Demon Lord (17 page)

"It was not poison, Bane. It has
already worked, but Benton has no pain, so he feels nothing."

Bane swung a leg, smiling. "So,
it is a slow-acting poison then. Doubtless a painful death awaits
him in a few hours’ time. How do you feel, soldier?"

Benton bowed, keeping his eyes
on the floor. "Lord, I've always had a knee that troubled me, an
old wound, you see. The ache has completely gone, so I would say I
feel very well."

Bane's brow furrowed, and his
smile vanished. "So you are in collusion. You think she will give
you the antidote. I am certain she would, if she was able, but I
will not let her." He studied Benton, looking for signs of
nervousness, but the soldier stood blank-faced. "Well, you
obviously think you can outsmart me, even now that I have divined
your scheme. I would like to see you try. Mord, lash him to the
mast."

The troll and soldier retreated,
and Mirra turned to Bane, her expression hurt. "I would never harm
you."

"If that was true, it would make
you worse than a fool, witch. It would make you a traitor. I am
your enemy, the Black Lord's son, about to unleash him upon your
world. I have beaten you, dropped you in a cesspit, and tortured
you. You should hate me."

"I do not. Healers do not make
judgements. Our only purpose is to heal. We cannot turn away a sick
person because he is a robber or even a murderer, we are not
allowed. It does not matter who you are or what you have done, I
will always try to heal you."

Bane rose and loomed over her.
"Lies, all lies. You were sent to kill me. Admit it."

"No." Mirra shook her head,
ignoring the palpable menace he radiated. Her eyes shone with
honesty, which seemed to anger him more.

Bane's hands curled into fists.
"I should kill you now, before you try again." He swung away,
staggering a little as the ship rolled. "But I told my father you
would not succeed, so if I kill you I will not be able to prove
that point. I have to wait until you try, then defeat you. This is
only your first attempt, and a stupid one at that. Did you really
think I would consume any foul concoction of yours? You will have
to think up a better plan, stupid girl."

Bane shoved her out of his way
and left the cabin, returning a few minutes later with a length of
rope. He bound her unresisting hands and tied her to the table.

"Now you will not be able to
feed your friend the antidote, and by morning he will be dead." He
appeared to search for some flicker of remorse in her expression,
and when she showed none, he shook his head with a rueful smile.
"You are good, I have to admit. Is this what you were trained to
do? To be such a consummate liar and actress that you would be able
to fool me? This little battle may even become interesting
yet."

Mirra could only shake her head.
His suspicion hurt and his accusations confused her. The only
training she had received was in the art of healing, learning to
use her power to sooth pain and mend the afflicted flesh of injured
or diseased people. She had never told a lie and did not know how
to act at all, but he seemed to find some other, devious purpose in
her presence here, even though her capture had been nothing but an
accident. She had not even known of his existence until she met
him, and she wondered why Elder Mother had not told her about him.
It seemed odd that such an important part of her education had been
so completely neglected.

Bane flopped down on the bed,
tossing and turning as the pain hammered in his head before falling
into a restless sleep. Mirra curled up on the floor and listened to
the ship's creaking while she tried to ease the pinching of the
ropes around her wrists. Bane had knotted them tightly, and soon
her hands grew numb. Before long her twisted arms ached unbearably,
and she bit her lip to prevent herself from calling out to him for
help. She knew that if she woke him from his restless doze, he
would be furious.

Bane's movements woke Mirra, and
she opened her eyes as he left the cabin. She whimpered when she
tried to move. Her joints had seized up, and the ache in her arms
had spread to her shoulders. The ship's gentle rolling told her
that the storm was over, and the cries of gulls came through the
open porthole, which could only mean that they were close to land.
Bane returned within a few minutes, scowling. She gazed at his
boots as he stood over her, wondering if he would kick her.

Instead he growled, "He still
lives. You had someone else give him the antidote."

"No, how could I? He is not dead
because it was not poison."

He bent and slapped her, making
her ear ring. "You are lying. You got a message to one of his
cronies. I know you witches have tricks like that. You had better
start telling the truth, or I will make you suffer every time you
lie. Who did you send to save him? Tell me!"

"No one."

"What are you, a complete moron?
You dare to defy me? You, a weak human female, dare to lie to me?
Tell me the truth!"

Mirra gasped as he gripped her
hair and twisted her to face him. "I am! I was not trying to kill
you, that is the truth."

Mirra thought he would snap her
neck with a quick twist of his hands, then he pushed her away.
"Perhaps not. Indeed, maybe you are telling the truth. This was not
the poisoned cup, but a harmless one, meant to lull me into a false
trust of you, so later you could give me the deadly one with
impunity. A fair plan, I suppose, ensuring that you would not be
found out. But let me assure you, I will never trust you, and you
will not live long enough to see your scheming through."

Bane strode out, leaving her
tied to the table for the rest of the day. By the time he returned
in the evening, she ached all over, her skin burnt where the ropes
had chafed her, and hunger made her queasy. He untied her and made
her sit on the bed, where she slumped, tears leaking down her
cheeks. She rubbed her numb hands to force the blood back into them
and bit her lip as they burnt. Bane's bloodshot eyes told her that
the pain in his head had not abated, and he regarded her with deep
contempt.

"We have reached the island.
Tonight I will break the ward, and you will accompany me."

Mirra nodded, not daring to
speak lest she incur his wrath again. Bane ordered the troll to
bring food, and settled down to eat his usual foul concoction while
Mirra nibbled hard bread. When the frugal meal was over, Bane
donned his cloak and stalked out, leaving her to follow.

The ship floated upon a calm
sea, anchored close to a rocky island dark with moon-cast shadows.
The full moon rose at the end of a glinting silver path, bathing
the jagged land with ghostly light. Waves lapped at the
barnacle-encrusted rocks that plunged into the sea, not softened by
any beach. Only a few feet separated the ship from the rocky shore,
and a gangplank spanned the gap. The men had lassoed jagged
outcrops to moor the ship, using long stout boathooks to keep the
vessel from grinding its timbers against the sharp stones. The
demon steed trotted across first, its hooves striking sparks from
the rocks when it reached the shore. Bane strode after it, and
Mirra followed.

Ashore, the sharp volcanic rocks
stabbed her bare feet, and she hobbled. Healers did not wear shoes;
their contact with the earth enhanced their natural powers, which
also protected them from any harm. Now her feet bled, and she
sobbed as she stumbled after him. Bane mounted the stallion and
rode towards the granite cone of the old volcano. Mirra tried to
ignore the pain that knifed through her feet at every step, biting
her lip until she tasted blood. The demon steed returned with a
clatter of hooves, and Bane looked down at her, chuckling.

"What is the matter, witch, are
the rocks too hard for you?"

She nodded, keeping her head
bowed to hide her pained expression.

Bane gave a grunt of annoyance.
"I am not waiting all night for you." He held out his hand. "Come,
you will ride with me."

She knew this was not a
charitable gesture, and stepped back, wincing as a rock stabbed
her. "I cannot."

He laughed and jumped down. "Yes
you can, witch."

She backed away. "It will burn
me."

"You think I care?" He seized
her arm and dragged her towards the fiery stallion. She hung back,
even though she knew her attempt to resist him was futile, and the
rocks flayed her feet. The demon steed snorted a foul exhalation
that made her gag, and its dark power caused her stomach to try to
crawl into her throat. She whimpered as its flames licked her, and
Bane lifted her onto its back. Mirra leant over and vomited as he
leapt up behind her.

"That is a revolting habit you
have, girl."

Mirra groaned, almost fainting
from the evil that battered her with foul waves.

Bane sniggered. "She is sorry,
Drallis, for vomiting on you."

The demon steed leapt forward,
and Mirra clung to its mane, surprised that it did not scorch her
hands. Bane was pressed close behind her, and she fought a strong
urge to turn and cling to him to escape the demon steed's raw evil.
Although she knew nothing about demonic creatures, either human or
animal, she sensed that the demon steed's touch would have killed
her had it not been for Bane's presence, and her gentle nature
found a deep font of gratitude for his protection. The rocks passed
in a blur, but she was hardly aware of the amazing speed at which
they travelled. Her stomach heaved, and a strange darkness clouded
her vision.

It vanished when Bane pushed her
off, and she fell onto stony ground, bruising her thigh and arm.
Climbing to her feet, she swallowed the sour sting of bile and
gazed around at a crater. Moonlight silvered a lake surrounded by
short greyish grass and stunted trees. An untidily thatched stone
house huddled on the shore, a vegetable patch beside it.

Bane strode towards the house,
and the demon steed stood like a burning statue where he left it.
Mirra hobbled after him, the grass cool under her bleeding feet,
her fresh bruises aching. As he approached the dwelling, a man
stepped out to confront him. Pure white hair and whiskers framed a
gnarled countenance with a hooked nose and sunken eyes. A flowing
blue robe picked out with intricate silver designs hung from bony
shoulders, pinched at the waist by a white belt. The man's knobbly
hands gripped a carved staff some six feet tall, which he used to
aid his shuffling steps as he moved towards Bane, into an open area
next to the lake's black beach.

The Demon Lord stopped and eyed
his adversary. The old man spoke in a reedy, quavering voice. "At
last you come, Bane. I have awaited you for three hundred
years."

Bane spat, his lip curling. "You
think to stand in my way, old man?"

"I shall strive to do what I
can, be it not much. It is to that which I have dedicated my life,"
he stated phlegmatically.

"Then your end is nigh,
mage."

The old mage shuffled closer,
approaching to within ten feet of the Demon Lord, then stopped and
grounded his staff. "Perhaps, but every time you use your power,
the pain becomes a little worse, does it not?"

"What of it?"

The old mage sighed, tugging at
his beard with a twisted hand. "The Black Lord planted the seeds of
your destruction when he gave you his power, Bane. Did you really
think he would share this world with you once he had won it?"

"I am his son."

"You are not." The mage shook
his head, his long beard wagging. "You are human, like me, like
her, like the people you were sent to kill. He is using you to
break the wards, and by the time you have completed your task, you
will be dead. He has no use for you after that. He had to make you
as powerful as he is; he will not suffer you to live."

"You lie."

The mage leant on his staff.
"No, I tell you the truth. You are one of us. My small effort will
speed your destruction. It is all I can do, for I will surely not
persuade you. Only the healer can -"

Bane raised his hands in a
sweeping motion, and black fire burst from them. The frail old man
reacted with surprising speed, raising the staff. Blue light flared
from it and met the black in a swirling inferno of opposing forces
that hissed and crackled around the mage. He chanted, his reedy
voice almost lost in the sound of the warring magic, and his blue
power grew brighter, forcing back the black. Bane gestured, and the
dark fire became fiercer, eating away at the blue.

Mirra sat down as her legs
turned to jelly, riveted by the amazing battle. The old mage
chanted again, raising his staff higher. The blue magic turning a
vivid, sparkling hue, as if fragments of summer sky had entered the
fray. Like a war between day and night, the light and dark raged
together, each seeking to blot out the other. Bane ground out two
harsh words, and the dark power closed like a giant fist, crushing
the brilliant blue within it. The old mage screamed and held the
staff up with quivering hands, warding off the black power with a
supreme effort. His ululating cry seemed to spur deep fonts of
power from him, and flames of pure cyan lashed outwards, burning
away the shadows that endeavoured to smother it.

As Bane sought to quell the
mage's fire, the power he wielded seemed to escape his control.
Mirra gasped as the Demon Lord transformed. Great bat wings of
spectral darkness appeared over him, and his features darkened and
elongated into slavering jaws filled with black teeth. His eyes
flared red, and curled horns swept up from his brow. He seemed to
swell, and she blinked, hardly able to believe her eyes. A
monstrous form mantled Bane, as if the magic he wielded consumed
him.

The creature he had become
loomed over the old mage. Its vast wings spread, and curled horns
scythed the air as it tossed its head, stepping nearer to the
cowering magician. The old man fell to his knees, his face filled
with terror and despair as he held the staff up with both hands,
but he was clearly doomed. As the black fire ate away at the blue
shield around him, he raised his head and shouted a word in a frail
treble. Tears stung Mirra's eyes at his desperate cry.