Demon Lord (2 page)

Ellese smiled with relief and
assurance. "Yes, Larris?"

Larris straightened, lifting her
chin. "I think I know what we need to do."

Chapter One

Daughter of Light

Mirra sat cross-legged on the
grass of the sun-drenched garden, weaving a chain of bright summer
flowers. Her slender fingers deftly twined the blossoms together,
and the sun burnished her flaxen hair that hung about her face as
she bent over her task. Thick dark lashes framed gentle blue-green
eyes in a serene, delicately featured face.

Tallis, who sat beside her,
picked up her garland and resumed her work with a sigh. This
morning, at the celebration for Mirra's sixteenth birthday, she had
watched Mirra opening her gifts, wondering how happy she would be
if she knew what was in store for her. Everyone knew but Mirra, and
that seemed so unfair. The secrecy puzzled her, for surely it would
be better if Mirra could prepare for what lay ahead? She looked
down at the wreckage she held and sighed again, trying to weave a
bright yellow daisy into the disaster.

Ellese gazed down at the girls
from her study window, which overlooked the garden in the centre of
the abbey. Her eyes burnt with unshed tears as Mirra crowned her
friend with the daisy chain. High girlish laughter wafted in
through the open window on the warm summer air. How she wished
things were different.

The Black Lord's human weapon,
Bane, had emerged from the Underworld two years ago, little more
than a boy, if the stories about him were true. From the
descriptions given by those unfortunate enough to have seen him, he
was now about twenty years old, an estimate she knew to be
accurate. The moment he had set foot above ground, an army had
gathered around him. First to join were the dark creatures that
inhabited the entrance to the Underworld, through which Bane had
emerged.

The enormous cave, fanged with
pillars of rock, gaped at the blasted lands around it from the side
of a solitary crag rising unnaturally out of a flat plain far to
the north. The cavern was large enough to accommodate two cities
within its bounds, and its denizens had built a metropolis of mud
and stone that filled almost half of it. Within its dim confines,
generations of grims, wights, night crawlers and vampires had lived
and died, awaiting the Black Lord's rising.

The dark power that emanated
from the Underworld in a foetid exhalation had killed all life for
leagues around, and only petrified forests stood sentinel on the
barren plains. Any human who had ever dared to set foot in the
cavern had been torn apart and devoured. The dark creatures
ventured out only at night to hunt, preying on the animals that
dwelt beyond the dark power's influence. No human lived within a
hundred leagues of the cave, for to do so was certain death.

Now the monsters had braved the
sunlight to leave their sanctuary and follow Bane. As he moved away
from the cavern, droves of goblins, trolls, rock howlers and gnomes
rallied around him, all worshippers of the Black Lord. They had
emerged from their underground warrens and mountain caves in droves
to enlist, armed with their simple, brutish weapons. Finally,
humans had joined his foul mob, swelling its ranks to thousands.
Every criminal, vagrant, bandit, mercenary and outcast had flocked
to his banner, drawn by the promise of riches and conquest. His
army had already conquered several fiefdoms, and, as they did, more
joined, some from fear, others from greed, until a huge horde of
rabble now marched behind him.

With these, he swept across the
Overworld in an unstoppable tide, slaughtering all in his path.
Armies fell before his advance like wheat before a scythe, and
those that fled were hunted down without mercy. Tales of torture,
rape, mutilations and wanton atrocities preceded him; descriptions
of his cruelty sickened all who heard them. The stories told of his
complete lack of mercy, or any other vaguely human emotion. He
revelled in death and destruction and laughed at his hapless
victims' suffering. Ruined towns and fields of rotting dead lay
strewn in his wake, breeding dread diseases that afflicted the few
survivors, who then spread it throughout the land. Whole towns died
without ever seeing the Black Lord's army, defeated by the sickness
Bane had unleashed.

King Margorah, ruler of the
largest kingdom in the Overworld, fought Bane to a bloody
standstill in a three-day battle that laid waste to vast tracts of
land and two towns. When at last Margorah realised that he faced
defeat, countless dead paved his retreating army's path as the dark
creatures hunted within his camp each night until he reached his
citadel. There, the dead gathered in mounds at the foot of his
walls, yet still he refused to accept defeat, determined to fight
to the last man. After five days, Bane grew bored and razed the
fortress with black fire, killing all within with a single stroke
of power.

Lesser rulers, barons and lords,
fell to the rag-tag horde in a few hours, overrun by sheer numbers.
Although Bane's army dwindled with each encounter, it soon swelled
again with fresh worshippers and fortune-seekers. Towns in his path
were abandoned as their residents fled in a desperate bid to save
themselves. All mankind feared the coming of Bane, whose name was
whispered with deep loathing and dread.

For weeks now, the roads past
the abbey had been clogged with fleeing people carrying bundles on
their backs and children on their hips, driving their few livestock
before them. The more affluent rode in wagons or carriages; wealthy
ladies whose husbands had sent them away to doubtful safety,
servants and flunkies dancing attendance. Their lordly spouses
remained to gird their armies for futile war, grist to Bane's mill
of unending bloodlust. All would flee until they reached the sea,
then there would be nowhere to go. As they huddled in the coastal
towns, the Underworld's army marched closer, bringing with it the
death their flight had only delayed. Doom had settled over the land
like a dull miasma, belying the bright spring days that should have
been joyous.

Bane's army was just a hundred
miles from the abbey now, and Ellese knew the time had come for
Mirra to fulfil her destiny. She had been raised within the abbey's
protection, and knew nothing of Bane. Sheltered from the world's
wickedness and taught only of its beauties, she had grown up a
happy, laughing child, innocent in a profound manner that sometimes
made her seem simple, until a person gazed deep into her eyes and
found the utter serenity there.

Ellese watched Tallis present
Mirra with a lopsided garland, then they jumped up and ran into the
abbey, trailing giggles. She turned away with a sigh. She had never
doubted Larris' vision, but, as the tales of horror reached her,
she worried. Still, she could not put it off any longer. Tomorrow;
it had to be done tomorrow.

The silence that greeted her in
the breakfast hall the next morning surprised Mirra. A sense of
doom hung in the air, and her smile faded as she headed for her
seat beside Tallis. Many acolytes sent her timid smiles, their eyes
sliding away. Her friend was intent on her porridge, and Mirra
spooned hers with keen appetite.

"Why is everyone so quiet
today?"

Tallis looked around shrugged.
"You are to see Elder Mother after breakfast."

"What about?"

"Ask Elder Mother."

When she finished breakfast,
Mirra ran to Ellese's study, bouncing in with a grin as Ellese
turned from the window. The sadness in the seeress' eyes stopped
Mirra's rush to hug her, and she advanced slowly, her expression
becoming solemn.

"What is wrong with
everyone?"

"We are all a little sad."

"Why?"

Ellese sighed. "Because today
you must leave us and go out into the world. You are sixteen now,
and I know normally girls leave at eighteen, but you are ready. It
is time."

Mirra's eyes sparkled. "How
wonderful! Why is everyone sad?"

"Because we will miss you, of
course."

"I shall miss you all too, but I
have always wanted to see the world."

"And so you shall, my dear."
Ellese became brisk. "So, when you have packed, the cart will be
waiting to take you to your new home. We have a lovely place in the
woods for you."

"Thank you, Mother!" Mirra flung
her arms around the old seeress' neck and kissed her on the cheek.
Ellese patted the girl's back, appearing sadder than Mirra thought
necessary at her leaving.

"Now, now, child." Ellese
disentangled herself. "Go and get ready."

Mirra skipped along bright
corridors to the grey cell that had been her home for sixteen
years. It seemed poky and uninviting now that her mind was filled
with visions of a little thatched cottage nestled in a forest
glade. She packed her few possessions into a worn leather bag, and,
with a last look around at the drab chamber, ran to tell Tallis.
She found her friend in the vegetable garden behind the abbey,
pulling weeds from orderly cabbage rows. Flowering fruit trees
hemmed the garden and filled the warm air with their heady scent.
Birdsong offset the dull rumble of wagon wheels on the road.

Mirra pounced on her friend,
laughing with childish glee. "I am leaving, Tallis! Is it not
wonderful? I am to have my very own house, in the woods, just as I
have always wanted!"

Tallis hugged her back, her soft
brown eyes a little moist. "That is... wonderful, Mir."

Mirra hardly noticed her
friend's sadness; she was too excited at the prospect of becoming a
true healer. She bounced around, avoiding the plump cabbage heads.
"In two years your turn will come. It will be marvellous! I shall
heal sick people, and animals too!"

Tallis looked down at the
wilting weeds she held. "Yes, you are so good at it. I will never
be as good as you."

"Nonsense, you are just as good
as me, and much better at cooking and sewing!"

They looked up at the sound of
footsteps, to find Ellese approaching. The grey-haired seeress
seemed to have aged in the last day, and her smile was tired.

"All ready, Mirra?"

"Yes!" She picked up her bag.
"Can Tal come with us, just to see?"

Ellese inclined her head. "Of
course she may if she wishes."

Mirra turned to Tallis, who
smiled and nodded.

The retired plough horse pulled
the wagon beside the clogged road, his iron-shod feet setting up a
dull clopping. The people who thronged the road walked in grim
silence, their eyes scared and despairing. They pushed barrows
piled high with their possessions and drove bellowing livestock
before them. The rumble of wheels mingled with dogs' yapping and
the wails of tired children who stumbled amongst the trudging
people.

Mirra smiled and waved, and a
few peasants responded half-heartedly. The desolation in their eyes
and the misery that hung over the throng puzzled the young healer.
Dust clung to the people's sweat-streaked faces, and drovers goaded
footsore oxen that bawled in protest. Some had pulled off the road
to huddle around campfires, warming food for hungry children and
resting exhausted beasts. Mirra sensed their fatigue in her bones,
and a frown wrinkled her brow.

She turned to Ellese. "Where do
they all go, Mother? Why are they so sad?"

Ellese glanced away. "They go to
the sea."

"Whatever for? They are all so
tired."

"To feed the fishes," Tallis
said, and the seeress shot her sharp, warning glance.

"Because they must," Elder
Mother stated, her tone discouraging further enquiry on the
subject.

Mirra thought about that, then
shrugged it off. Elder Mother's terse reply did not answer her
question, but Ellese must have her reasons. Mirra did not have a
questioning nature; hers was too serene for that. Accepting things
on face value was her way, and she never expected people to lie to
her. She trusted Elder Mother implicitly, and if Ellese did not
wish her to know, then she was content to remain ignorant.

Instead, she gazed around at the
meadows and shady woodland. The carolling of birds in the hedgerows
was audible over the steady rumble of wagon wheels and tramp of
feet. The lush countryside basked beneath a warm blue sky in
peaceful splendour, abuzz with busy insects and flitting birds. In
some fields, placid cattle grazed, their bells clanking as they
munched the grass. By contrast, the winding road clogged with human
misery made a dismal outlook, and she wondered afresh why these
people chose to make such an arduous journey to the sea when they
should be planting the season's crops and tending their farms.

Over the next three days, the
throngs dwindled until the trio of healers encountered only a few
footsore stragglers following the churned, dung-spattered road.
Beside it, crops ripened unattended in the fields and ploughs lay
abandoned on the rich earth as if the farmer had simply unhitched
his team and walked off, leaving the valuable implements to rust.
In empty towns, litter clogged the gutters, collapsed stalls spilt
rotting fruit into the roads, and smashed pottery crunched under
the cart's wheels. Precious, but useless items lay strewn amongst
the rubbish. Children's toys, cheap baubles and ornaments had
apparently been cast aside to lighten the loads people carried.
Clearly this had been an exodus, and Mirra wondered who she would
heal if everyone had left, but presumably they would be back,
otherwise Elder Mother would not have brought her here. Ravens and
crows gathered on the rooftops, raucous spectators to mankind's
downfall.

"Why has everyone left in such a
hurry, Mother?" Mirra asked.

Ellese shook her head. "You will
find out soon."

Tallis' eyes were haunted as she
gazed at the empty houses, where dry washing flapped forlornly on
the lines. Mirra wondered why this strange exodus was such a
secret, especially since Ellese and Tallis seemed to know what had
happened. She found their reticence a trifle vexing, and the
situation somewhat disturbing, spoiling her happiness.