Demon Lord (13 page)

Mirra nodded, then her eyes
widened as he drew his dagger and leant closer. She gasped as he
sliced her cheek, and a drop of blood escaped before the wound
healed.

He smiled. "I thought so. Your
powers are waning. You have not seen the sun for a while, have you?
Yet you still heal those stupid men, and soon you will have nothing
left for yourself."

"I must help them while I can.
It is my calling."

"How idiotic. And when your
powers are gone? What then?"

"Then I will suffer and die,
just like them."

His smile broadened. "Good.
Perhaps you will be more amusing then."

"Then you will not kill me?"

"You should be begging for
death, girl. When your powers are gone, you will be at my mercy,
and I have none."

She shook her head. "I think you
do."

"You are wrong," he retorted,
his smile vanishing. "Next you will be telling me that you like
me."

"I do. I want to help you, Bane;
you suffer so. No one should suffer like that." She spoke with soft
sincerity.

Bane frowned. "After all I have
done to you? How can you like someone who revels in your suffering?
And I do, you know. You amaze me with your stupidity; you may even
become boring. Beware that day, for then I shall enjoy watching the
next demon destroy you. Already you are pathetic and repulsive, a
weak mewling thing." He turned back to the map, unrolling it again,
and Mirra lay down with a sigh.

When the Black
Lord visited Bane's dreams that night, he was oddly subdued, not in
a raging fury, as Bane had expected.
His
fire glowed dimly, a nimbus of evil power that did not lash out as
before. The mood vision for this dream was a barren grey desert
dotted with stones under a lowering sky of swirling
clouds.

"A pity Yalnebar failed," he
commented.

"You broke your word, Father.
There were no healers at the abbey."

"Yes. Unfortunate." The scene
behind him darkened, becoming more forbidding, flashes of red
lightning lighting it. "Had the girl not called you, she would be
dead now. Also unfortunate. Why did she call you, son?"

Bane shrugged. "I helped with
Mealle."

"She seems to look upon you as
her protector. Interesting, do you not think?"

"She is a dimwit. Never have I
come across a more gullible, trusting human. At times she sickens
me."

The Black Lord's eyes flared.
"Does she? That is good. Then you will kill her now." The vision
became yellow-tinged.

"No. Tell me why I should. Give
me a good reason."

The Black Lord sighed, and the
background paled as his anger drained away. "Very well. I did not
want to tell you this, but now I must, since you are being so
stubborn. She is the weapon the healers have forged against you.
She is the one chosen to stop you from achieving your goal."

Bane laughed. "A fine jest,
Father."

"It is true." The background
swirled into a mess of red and yellow.

"How can one pathetic girl stop
me? She is harmless. All she does is heal the sick and injured,
even those who murder her people. She cannot possibly harm me; she
even wants to help me."

The Black Lord shook his fiery
head. The abstract swirling changed to a calm black sea under a
huge red sun. "I do not know how she is meant to stop you, I just
know she is. Are you prepared to take the chance that she has a way
to destroy you?"

"Yes. It should be interesting
to see her try to kill me. I think the healers made a mistake
choosing her. She is no warrior woman, just a girl, young and
stupid. Do you seriously think her a threat to me?"

"I cannot force you to kill
her. I ask you to, as a dutiful son."

"No. I am curious, Father. I
will study her more carefully. Should I discover that she has the
means to kill me, rest assured I will strike first. She is not
indestructible; she is weak. I could smear her like a bug."

The Black Lord sighed an
exhalation of fire, and the red sun vanished, leaving only
blackness. "Very well, but I shall not stop trying to kill her.
Yalnebar was hurt. Try not to kill anyone, Bane, they are your
kin."

Bane chuckled. "If they pit
themselves against me, they will get hurt. Advise them to be
careful."

"Yalnebar did not strike you,
son."

"A good thing, but he was one
blow from killing her."

"The witch will die. I will see
to it."

When morning broke on another
cloudy day, Mord came to take Mirra away as usual. Bane raised a
finger, making the troll freeze.

"She stays with me from now on,
Mord."

As the troll bowed and backed
away, Mirra turned to Bane. "Why?"

"My father has sworn to kill
you. He will send more demons. The only way to stop them is if you
stay with me. I have no wish to expend power and suffer headaches
for your sake. No demon may manifest close to me without my
knowledge."

She smiled. "So you will not
kill me."

"Not yet."

That day, Bane made Mirra walk
beside the dragon, and her legs burnt with the effort. She often
had to trot, and exhaustion took its toll. When, at midday, she
fell and could not rise, Bane ordered Mord to carry her. The troll
was immensely strong, and Mirra a small burden. His pungent smell
was unpleasant, and the coarse hair on his arms and chest prickled
her skin, but her leaden legs blessed him. In this fashion, they
travelled on towards the sea.

Ellese sat back from the scrying
glass and rubbed her temples. Tallis offered her a cup of water,
and the seeress sipped it as she thought about what she had seen.
Tallis bit her lip while she waited for Ellese to put down the
cup.

"She still lives."

Tallis sagged. "How does she
fare?"

"Not too well, I am afraid.
Another demon attacked her, and her power is drained, but Bane
keeps her alive. He drove off the demon to save her, and I am more
confident now. Every day her power over him increases, and her
weakness helps. Already he defies his father. He will not be parted
from her."

"But he still does not let her
help him, and he torments her."

"Patience, my dear Tallis, this
will come in good time, if all goes well."

Tallis shook her head. "Already
two wards are broken, and he marches unhindered to the next."

"The Earl of Timon raises an
army, but I will advise him not to fight Bane. He will lose. His
land lies in the Demon Lord's path, and he is determined to face
him. Even now he marches to challenge him. The Earl is old. He does
not understand what Bane is. No one can stand against him; our only
hope is Mirra."

"It seems a fragile hope."

"Do not underestimate her; she
will succeed."

Tallis rose and paced the shabby
room of the seaside inn where the healers sheltered. The Lady's
white flame burnt in an oil lamp on the mantel, and she bowed her
head to it.

"How much longer will we stay
here, Elder Mother?"

"Only a few more days, dear."
Ellese wrapped her scrying glass in a thick cloth. "Then we will
journey to the sea coast abbey, to join our sisters there. Some of
the older sisters require rest. Go now and tell everyone to meet in
the common room, I will speak to them shortly."

Tallis left, and Ellese turned
to gaze out of the window at the drab day outside. Beyond the cold,
deserted beach, gulls wheeled and squalled, diving for fish in the
wind-tossed sea. Boats bobbed on the waves as fishermen struggled
to haul their daily bounty from the grey depths. As Bane neared the
coast, the weather grew grimmer, and now only occasional shafts of
sunlight broke through the clouds. She hoped the abbey up the coast
still received some sun. Her healers needed the power they could
only obtain from direct sunlight. Many sick and injured queued
outside the inn, but the healers were growing weak. Now all but the
mortally ill were given only herbal treatments.

Ellese thought back to the time
when Mirra had been conceived. Larris's dream had seemed
ridiculous, and many elder mothers had scorned her suggestion that
it was a sign from the Lady, so at first it had been rejected. When
no one could come up with a better idea, however, or received any
sign, it had been reconsidered. Putting it into practice had not
been easy. Much power was needed to make it work. First, a young
healer had volunteered bear the child, knowing her daughter would
never know her, nor would she be allowed to raise her. A man had
been put into a deep sleep and brought to the abbey.

Ellese remembered Mirra's father
well. A handsome, golden-haired youth, a perfect choice. He never
knew that something had been taken from him while he slumbered, and
woke unharmed where he had fallen asleep. Had anyone told him he
had sired a daughter that night, he would have been most surprised.
When Mirra's mother had informed them she did indeed carry a
daughter, the real plan had been put into action. The girl basked
in the sun every day, drank only pure spring water and ate the best
food. She was excused from all work, and took leisurely walks in
the gardens for exercise.

When the foetus was firmly
established in her womb, she travelled to all the abbeys in the
land. At each one, the healers laid their hands upon her belly and
poured their power into the child. Prayers were chanted in every
chapel, and candles lighted for the unborn girl, the saviour of the
land. No healer shirked the task of giving power to the child, nor
shaping her with their gifts. Few healers had the gift of speaking
to animals; fewer still could speak to trees and plants. Although
many could heal themselves, few could do it well. Ellese herself
gifted the child with the ability to scry, though this was one
talent that had lain dormant. Each one had poured their love forth
with their power, ensuring that Mirra was born with an innate love
for all things, and judged no one.

Mirra's upbringing had been a
miracle. Her birth, aglow with power, had set awe in the hearts of
those who witnessed it. Ellese took charge of the baby as soon as
she was weaned, and her mother was sent to a faraway abbey.
Everyone who came into contact with the child was instructed on how
to behave around her. Never did Mirra see an argument, nor was she
shouted at or scolded. Her childhood was filled with peace and
laughter, and she flourished, her joy and goodness shining in her
clear blue eyes.

Ellese remembered her dread for
the fragile girl, and how she had hated the day when Mirra would be
placed in the path of the Demon Lord. When Bane had emerged from
the Underworld, Mirra was just fourteen, too young for the task.
For two years he had ravaged the land unopposed, until it became
clear that time was running out. He would overrun the land and
destroy the wards before Mirra was eighteen. For the first two
years he had merely conquered, amassing a mighty army. Then,
shortly after acquiring Mirra, as if she was the catalyst, he had
started breaking the wards.

Shaking her head, Ellese turned
and descended the creaking stairs to the common room, where her
sisters waited, seated at the rough tables that served the inn.
Their pale, gaunt faces turned to her, drained of power and life
itself, their eyes dull with despair. They awaited news of Mirra,
and Ellese made her report clipped and concise, leaving out the
distressing details.

At the end, many looked more
downcast, while others appeared hopeful, depending on their
natures. Ellese held their attention.

"We must help her, sisters. We
must prepare another golden pearl."

A gaunt woman cringed. "We have
so little, Mother."

"I know, but we must do this for
her. She is our hope, and even if some of us perish, as Balia did,
we must help her. Anshee will call one of her wild winged friends
to carry the pearl. Any who gather power will donate it. All
healing will stop."

A groan went around the room at
this. Healers hated to turn away the sick.

Elder Mother shook her head. "If
Mirra fails, we will all die, and healing some now will only
provide more for him to torture. We will do what we can for them
with herbs and potions, and use the skills taught to ungifted
midwives and doctors. We must try to make the pearl in the next few
days."

Heads nodded around the
room.

Bane dismounted and regarded the
red dragon with disgust. It was a weak, Overworld animal, unable to
withstand the forced marches and his weight. In two years he had
used up three of the beasts, and this one was now finished too.
Dragons did not eat well in captivity, and liked being ridden even
less. The red dragon's fiery colour had faded and the fierce glow
in its eyes had dimmed. It no longer attacked the trolls that fed
it, but lay listlessly and ate little. He had to goad it constantly
to keep up the appearance that it was still a strong, fierce
beast.

Two wards were broken, and two
demons had already manifested on the surface. It was time for a
mount that befitted his status. He looked over at the pale girl,
who sat where Mord had deposited her, watching him. This would make
her suffer, and he smiled at the prospect. His new mount would
terrify her, and it promised entertainment. He pondered his idea,
weighing the benefits against the resulting headache. His mind made
up, he turned to the cowering troll.

"Mord, build a fire, a big
one."

The troll bowed and scurried
away, an action ill-suited to his huge shambling form. Two other
trolls erected Bane's tent. He preferred to be served by trolls,
who seemed to fear him less than most. When the tent was up, he
stood before it and directed Mord, who had returned laden with
firewood, to build the fire close to the tent. He noticed the men
who gathered in the shadows and smiled again. Many would probably
flee in terror this night, but that did not bother him. His only
regret was the headache this would give him.