Reaching out with his mind, Bane
summoned a mass of stone from deep within a distant mountain and
released it above the Black Lord. Arkonen shouted a harsh word as
he was buried under the rocks with a gritty rumble, allowing Bane a
brief respite while the shadow form oozed free, minus his sword,
which remained trapped beneath the rubble. Arkonen straightened
with a foul smile, and the futility of their struggle struck Bane
afresh. Sensing a surge of dark power beneath him, he Moved as a
gaping hole appeared where he had been standing.
The Black Lord raised his arms
and gestured, muttering, "Gre'ath dra rogane pry'vor nyresh. Vor
dramyr leryn pryash grond."
The soil and ash around him rose
in a whirling eddy, rushing together to form a towering, monstrous
shape, its substance hardening while Bane watched. The ground
shuddered and groaned as fissures tore open beneath its feet, and
molten metal poured in fountains from them, sheathing the construct
with iron armour. Huge hands formed on the end of long, muscular
arms, tipped with razor-edged steel claws. Spines burst forth to
bristle along its back and mantle its sinuous neck. Its powerful
legs ended in broad, clawed feet, and a massive tail dragged behind
it, giving it added stability. Yellow eyes opened in its grotesque
head, and its jaws filled with sharp metal teeth.
Chapter
Twelve
Intervention
Ellese gasped and
recoiled, her eyes wide with horror. The other seer closed her eyes
and swayed, almost fainting. Two Elder Mothers rushed to help her,
patting her cheeks and holding a cup of water to her bloodless
lips. Their eyes sought Ellese, desperate for an explanation.
Ellese looked away, becoming aware that sweat trickled down her
face. Her muscles cramped with tension, and her nails had bitten
into her palms, drawing blood. It seemed like only minutes that she
had been watching the terrible battle, but a glance at the water
clock told her that more than an hour had passed. With an effort,
she opened her aching fists and tried to relax, raising a shaking
hand to her brow. Shayla came to her side with a damp cloth and
wiped the sweat from her face, her eyes filled with
concern.
"What is it?"
Ellese shook her head, her
throat tight. A cup of water was pressed to her lips, and she
sipped it, coughing a little. She closed her eyes, only to find the
image of Bane, dwarfed by the Black Lord's monstrous creation,
burnt into her mind. Opening them again, she glanced around at the
ring of tense faces.
"He is doomed. Goddess save us.
Surely he is doomed."
Bane looked up at the huge
monster and smiled. The Black Lord had opened a Source to power his
creation, and dark power surged forth in cold waves. As Arkonen's
construct shimmered and flowed in its last moments of fluidity,
Bane Moved, reappearing several hundred yards away.
Raising his arms, he spoke the
same string of guttural words that Arkonen had. Dust and ash rose
all around him, and the seven runes flared to brilliant yellow as
he Gathered again, the power flowing out to bind and shape the
dust. He reached into the ground with his mind, and fissures opened
with dull tearing sounds and booming reports as rocks tore and
crumbled. Dark magic poured forth from the Underworld at his
command, dimming the inner fire and causing hosts of demons below
to lose their substance.
Molten metal gushed upwards at
his behest, forming into armour and spines. He had not formed a
construct before, for it used a great deal of power. Had he tried
it when Arkonen's treachery had weakened him, he would have died.
He had been taught the theory, however, and now used it to form a
monster from his imagination, armed with long, sword-like claws and
curved spines protruding from the side of its head like scimitars.
Iron scales clanked into place all over it, and he stood in the
darkness within. The space was filled with dark power so thick it
formed a jelly-like substance, only a little less dense than
Arkonen's shadow form. A tube linked his nose to the outside air so
he could breathe, and he closed his eyes, using the Far See.
His construct's torso was short
and heavily armoured, the arms long and sword-tipped, its sinuous
neck balanced by a long tail ending in a spiked sphere. The head
was armed with a mighty curved beak of sharp steel, a pair of
forward-curving blades that could cut and pierce protruding from
its cheeks. Essentially it was similar to a droge body, but matter,
in the form of earth and metal, strengthened it. It was a match for
Arkonen's construct in every way, except his was a part of him,
whilst Bane's was like a suit of armour around him. It moved when
he did, and possessed massive strength. Once again he and Arkonen
were equals.
Bane cast a quick glance at the
knot of demons around Mirra, finding their numbers much reduced,
the battle waged on a mound of demon dust from all those that had
gone below. The outcome of that conflict would depend on who had
the most demons, in which case it seemed likely that Arkonen's
minions would triumph in the end. At least the Black Lord could not
use her as a shield while Bane's demons held her. She appeared to
have fainted, and he was glad she was spared the horror around
her.
Bane raised
his construct onto its short, powerful legs and took a few steps,
swinging the arms and finding that it followed his movements
perfectly, with little effort. The ground shuddered, alerting him
to the Black Lord's approach, and he focu
ssed on the monster that lumbered towards him.
Arkonen's construct moved fluidly, indicating an experience Bane
lacked, and he settled his creature on its haunches to wait,
forming two massive spikes on its chest to meet the challenge of
Arkonen's charge.
Ellese whispered, "Praise the
Goddess! He is a match for the Black Lord."
The Elder Mothers leant closer,
hope brightening their eyes as Ellese described the scene in her
glass. The other seer had recovered, and gaped at her glass. Ellese
winced as the behemoths crashed together, the earth tearing beneath
huge clawed feet as long tails lashed to keep their balance.
Arkonen's charge almost bowled Bane's monster over, but it kept its
feet, the spikes on its chest driving deep into the Black Lord's
metal-clad chest.
The vast amounts of dark power
that poured from the Sources they had opened caused the clouds to
roil and thicken. Lightning flashed down to hammer into the ground,
and thunder rumbled through the abbey walls from the distant
battle, bringing the reality of it to them. A wind rose, carrying
the stench of sulphur in through the open windows.
The Lady writhed on the radiant
softness that upheld her, dismayed by the image of the battling
behemoths that hung in the air before her. Her power poured from
the light realm to keep the abbeys lighted and hold Arkonen's power
at bay within the young healer. Her realm had shrunk further under
this strain, some parts of it vanishing as the white fire that
formed it was expended. Her fingers clasped the shimmering flesh of
her right arm, where ugly blue welts had appeared on her pale
skin.
"No, Bane," she whispered. "That
is not the way. You will lose."
The battle of the behemoths
surged to and fro across the battered plain, tearing the earth with
massive feet and ripping great gouges in it with lashing tails.
They gripped each other and struggled, neither able to overcome the
other, then broke apart and stabbed, gouged or pounded their
opponent with various parts of their armoured bodies. Lost scales
and chunks of droge flesh were swiftly regenerated, drawing more
mass from the shuddering ground to replace what was lost.
Bane exulted
in the power of his construct as he tore and pounded Arkonen,
inflicting damage beyond his wildest hopes. Its beak ripped chunks
from his opponent, snapp
ed
spines and tore off metal scales with consummate ease. The Black
Lord inflicted similar damage upon Bane's monstrous creation, and
the injuries were translated to his body, vastly
reduced.
Bloody welts scored his
shoulders and arms where Arkonen had torn chunks from his
construct's flesh. This meant that the battle could not continue
for too long, or he would become badly injured. He knew that
although Arkonen also shared his construct's injuries, his shadow
form could regenerate itself, which put Bane at a distinct
disadvantage and was clearly the reason Arkonen had chosen this
form of combat.
Accepting the
challenge had been a mistake, and now he had to find a way
to escape unharmed. He also had to
make sure Mirra was safe. His concern distracted him, for he feared
Arkonen's demons might harm her. He stabbed his opponent with a
sword-tipped arm and raked a chunk from Arkonen's flank with the
other, then arched his neck and sank his beak into the Black Lord's
shoulder.
Bloody scratches appeared on the
side of his neck as Arkonen's claws raked him, and a cluster of
shallow cuts oozed blood down his belly from a stab of Arkonen's
hind claws. He raised his head, lifting his foe off the ground, but
the Black Lord's spear-tipped tail lashed around and sliced into
his shoulder. Involuntarily he clasped the wound, hissing, then
jerked up his head and opened his jaws. The Black Lord's construct
flew through the air and crashed onto the ground several hundred
yards away, raising a cloud of ash. He rose, unhurt by the
fall.
Bane spoke the words of
unmaking, releasing his hold on the construct. The monster fell
apart, dust raining down on him, metal scales and spines clattering
onto the ground all around. He glanced at the Black Lord, whose
construct had stopped in mid-stride and disintegrated as quickly as
Bane's had done. This, he knew, was because neither of them could
Move whilst encapsulated in their monstrous creations. Now that
Bane could, Arkonen needed to do so as well.
Bane Moved, reappearing in the
spot where the demon battle had raged, but the battle was over and
the demons gone. Only the soil of vanquished earth demons remained
in a circular mound. He whipped around, searching in every
direction, wondering if his demons had carried Mirra to hallowed
ground, or whether Arkonen's minions held her. The latter seemed
more likely, and he spotted a group of fiends several hundred yards
away. With a curse, he Moved again, materialising beside them. They
cowered, and he spied Mirra in the arms of one who stood in their
midst, unconscious but unharmed.
Arkonen had lied again. His
demons had been instructed not to harm her. Either because he
wanted to use her against Bane, or kill her himself. He started
towards her, raising an arm to blast the demons in his path, then
staggered back as the Black Lord appeared almost on top of him,
sending him reeling with a blow. He stumbled and fell, throwing out
his arms. Arkonen strode after him, raising his fists to bludgeon
him again. Bane rolled aside and leapt to his feet. Arkonen Moved,
reappearing beside the demon that held Mirra as Bane did the same
thing, materialising two strides away.
Bane faced his foe, panting.
Sweat slicked him, mingling with the blood that seeped from his
wounds. Arkonen's bat wings had shrunk and his arms lacked much of
their former brawn, his eyes dimmer. The demon that held Mirra
bowed to its master and laid the healer at his feet, then sank into
the earth at a gesture from the Black Lord. Arkonen's red maw
curved in a malicious smile.
"So, Bane, have you had enough?
Have I proven to you that you cannot beat me yet, or would you like
to go below and wrestle in a lava sea? Perhaps we should hurl
mountains at each other, or see who can tear the deepest pit in
this wretched world. I made you my equal, not my superior, and for
you to think you could triumph in combat was sheer arrogance.
Already you are hurt, and eventually you will lose."
Bane glared at him, his hatred
burning like a hot coal in his heart, an icy dread for Mirra
cooling it. The power that their conflict had unleashed gathered
the angry clouds until they almost touched the ground around them,
and flashes of lightning tore the air with vicious cracks. Thunder
rumbled, shaking the earth.
Bane nodded. "All right. Give me
the healer, and you can keep the Old Kingdom."
Arkonen laughed, an ugly,
triumphant sound. "No. All deals are off, boy. I will keep the Old
Kingdom anyway, even if you reclaim this land for the Lady, so I do
not need to make deals with you. There is nothing more you can do,
so now you will watch her die."
"No."
"Yes. You should have accepted
my last offer. Now it is no longer on the table."
"It never was."
Arkonen chuckled. "Ah, Bane, at
last you begin to know me. Yet there was a time when you believed
all that I told you."
"That was before you betrayed
me, but now I know why you are called the Father of Lies."
The Black Lord smiled and turned
to look down at Mirra. "I have enjoyed tormenting you both, but now
it is time she died. You have learnt the futility of fighting me,
so all that remains is for you to watch as I crush her soul and
send it to the Land of the Dead. One day you will join her there,
and then I shall have the pleasure of your suffering once again,
when I destroy you."
Arkonen reached down, and Bane
charged him. The impact drove the Black Lord back several steps,
and his hands flashed up to close around Bane's throat. The Demon
Lord Moved.
Ellese's eyes widened as Bane
and Arkonen vanished, the force of the air sucked in by the sudden
displacement of matter raising a cloud of ash. This told her that
they had not become invisible again, but had Moved. She sat back
and glanced at the other seer, who frowned at her glass in
confusion, then met Ellese's eyes with a helpless look. Ellese
gazed into her glass, biting her lip as she waited for them to
reappear. Where had they gone?