Demon Lord (22 page)

"How ironic," he muttered, his
rage seeming to drain from him all of a sudden. "I am forced to
save you, who are my enemy, while you try to murder me."

"I am not." She drew in a
shuddering breath. "I swear, I would never try to harm you. The
potion only stops the pain."

He groaned. "How do you know
what it will do to me? I am from the Underworld. Everything I eat
and drink comes from the Underworld, sent up by my father at a
great cost of power. This world is poison to me."

"No, you are human, like me.
Remember the old mage? It will not harm you."

"Tricks and lies. The Black Lord
is my father. How can I be human? The mage was my enemy. You are my
enemy. You have poisoned me."

"No, I want to help you."

"Why, so I can destroy your
world?" He shook his head. "That makes no sense. You seek to
destroy me, to save your people."

"A healer cannot harm anyone.
The Lady forbids it."

Bane stared blindly at the cup
on the table, his eyes filled with despair. "You try to turn me
against my father. You have a spell on me to force me to protect
you, and now you try to poison me."

Hot tears welled in her eyes at
the anguish and horror in his voice. She longed to comfort him, but
was afraid he would lash out, her touch goading him to rage.
Instead she waited while he pondered his predicament, praying he
would come to the right conclusion.

Ellese sighed and looked up from
her scrying glass to smile at Tallis, who hovered at her elbow.

"She is all right, Tallis, stop
worrying."

Tallis relaxed with a sigh.
"What has happened?"

"She has won a great victory, my
dear. A very great one."

"Tell me." Tallis pulled up a
stool, her eyes eager.

"He saved her from the brink of
death, after he defeated the Earl of Timon's army. The Earl is dead
I am afraid, poor, foolish man. Mirra used the power we sent her to
heal the wounded men of Bane's army, as she must, of course."

"But they are the enemy."

Ellese raised an admonishing
finger. "Tallis, they are just men, misguided, but no less
deserving of healing than anyone else. Could you deny it to a
suffering man, no matter who he might be? We do not judge their
worthiness. That is for the Lady to do."

"We denied good people healing
to gather that power."

The seeress sighed. "I know, but
none of them were dying, as the men Mirra healed were. Anyway,
another demon attacked her, but Bane saved her. She has him
now."

"What do you mean, 'has
him'?"

Ellese chuckled, looking well
satisfied. "He does not know it yet, but he is starting to care for
her."

"The Demon Lord?"

"Yes, my dear, a very human
young man, and confused, I should imagine, right now. He has never
known love, Tallis. Can you imagine what that must be like? He does
not understand what is happening to him, but he does not like
it."

"What will happen to Mirra?"

"I cannot say. The Black Lord
will do everything in his power to turn Bane to his will, but we
hope he will fail. Bane holds the key to his release, so he will
have to be careful of what he does. Right now, Bane thinks he wants
Mirra dead as much as the Black Lord does, but of course, he does
not. Mirra is in great danger now. The Black Lord will try harder
than ever to kill her, and Bane must protect her. It pits the two
against each other, but they are equally powerful. Mirra must
persuade him to stop breaking the wards, but that will be
difficult. She has not won his trust."

Tallis shook her head. "He cares
for her, but he does not trust her?"

"Yes. Love is a strange thing,
my dear. The most powerful force of good in the world, but the most
misunderstood and mysterious. The goddess gave us the one weapon
that will work against Bane, for his only weakness is that he is
human."

Bane writhed
in the grip of a dream that was more akin to a nightmare. His
father was in a towering rage, with good reason, which was why Bane
did not try to shield himself from his wrath.
A seething storm of black fire engulfed him, buffeting him,
tearing at him with long lashes of burning pain. The Black Lord's
inky visage twisted with fury, and his slit yellow eyes blazed,
scorching Bane with their gaze.

"You destroyed Yansahesh. I
warned you not to!"

"She made me do it, Father. I
had no choice."

The Black Lord's raging
countenance hardened. "No choice? You fool! You protect the one who
was sent to destroy you. You must kill her, before she forces you
to do other things."

"She has a spell on me, or I
would have left her to die. She tricked me into drinking some
strange potion too."

The storm of black fire turned
into a red inferno of writhing flames that scorched Bane's skin. He
knew his power protected him from fire, so the burning was an
illusion, and he could have brushed aside the illusory flames, but
did not.

The Black Lord raged, "She will
do more than that! The longer she stays with you, the stronger her
power over you will become. Had you killed her when I first told
you to, you would be rid of her now. Your foolishness has caused
this. You must kill her, or send her away so I can."

Bane shook his head. "I cannot.
She uses me to protect her now. Her power binds me."

"Are you so weak?" The Black
Lord's words dripped scorn. "It is an Overworld spell. You must
find a way to break it."

"Yes, Father. But so long as
her magic binds me, I cannot let her die. You were right about her,
although her poison did not work."

The Black Lord's fury abated
and the burning stopped. The fiery vision turned to a calmer vista
of black smoke in which darting red sparks danced. "She will find
one that does though. You must guard yourself well. Otherwise, you
have done well. Another ward broken, only four more, son."

"Yes, Father."

"Bane, get to the others as
soon as you can. Nothing else matters. Let the girl have her silly
spell, it will not stop you breaking the wards. If she tries to
turn you from that purpose, beware. Do not listen to her. Once I
have risen, I will help you to be free of her. Do not fail me, son,
I am counting on you. And do not let her poison your mind against
me, either. I know she will try."

"She has already tried. She
will not succeed."

"Good." The Black Lord's red
maw twisted into a smile. "I forgive you for Yansahesh. I never
liked him anyway, air demons are so slick."

Bane woke refreshed, glad that
his father had forgiven him. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the
leather tent, enjoying the lack of pain. Only a dull ache sat at
the base of his skull, even now that the girl's potion had worn
off. He had grown used to the constant ache that Mealle's potion
did not completely banish, but it had not been so slight for many
months. After he had taken the healer's potion, the complete lack
of pain had been blissful. He sat up and studied her, curled up
asleep on the floor, and wondered how she had cast such a powerful
spell on him.

Such a fragile creature, small
and helpless. He could snap her neck like a rotten twig, but the
thought of doing that brought a stab of some indefinable emotion,
and it was not pleasure, as it should be. He resented that; it
robbed him of some of his power and confused him, too. His father
was right, however. It did not stop him from breaking the wards,
and when the Black Lord rose he would free his son from this
terrible enchantment.

Rising, he stretched, the pain
of his wounds flaring at the movement, making him stiffen with a
grunt. He glanced at the healer, afraid that she had seen his
weakness, but she still slept, and he allowed himself a brief
grimace. Good, pain was good, though he cursed the slight weakness
that still plagued him. He did not need any help from anyone, least
of all the whey-faced witch. He loathed her touch, her gentle
pawing and soft words. That was what had cast the spell, he was
sure, and he would not let her near him again. She was always
trying to touch him, he thought with a shudder. He hated being
touched, ever since he had been a small boy tormented by the slaps
and pinches of those who had tended him.

Bolstered by his resolve, he
padded to the table and used a soft cloth to rub the sleep from his
eyes, turning as the girl stirred. She sat up and smiled at him,
making him scowl. She smiled too much; as if something about him
amused her, and each time she saw him she was reminded of it. The
thought angered him, and he longed to smash the smile from her
face. He loomed over her, pleased when she retreated, faint
trepidation replacing her amusement. At least she still feared him,
though not as much as she should.

Mord brought his breakfast and
bread for the girl. Bane watched her eat while he spooned his food.
When she offered him some, he glared at her. He had told her the
Overworld food was poison, yet she blatantly tried to feed it to
him. Leaving the rest of his meal, he quit the tent, forcing her to
abandon her breakfast to hurry after him.

Outside, Bane shouted for his
captains, who ran to cower before him, straightening their dirty
finery and looted armour. He cast a scornful eye over their
unshaven dishevelment, making them shift in uneasy suspicion.
Finally he informed them that they marched to the fourth ward. The
captains ran to gather their troops, and Bane mounted the demon
steed. The girl walked behind as he rode out of town, Mord trailing
with his sack of potions. Three other trolls carried Bane's tent
and furniture on their strong backs.

The army straggled from the
town, circumnavigating the killing field with its mounds of dead
and flocks of carrion birds. Dark creatures had partially consumed
many of the bodies during the night, exposing meat and bones. Mirra
held a hand over her nose to try to block out the stench, and even
some of the soldiers did the same. The bodies had not yet started
to rot, but the dried blood and spilt entrails gave off singularly
foul odour.

Bane showed no sign of
discomfort, but she could only see his back, and could only guess
at his expression. He seemed a fastidious person, and she imagined
he would find the fetor as unpleasant as she did.

They had travelled about two
miles when the grey stallion cantered from the woods. He approached
Mirra, trailing broken reins, his fancy harness smeared with dirt
and blood. She stroked his nose, and he followed, nudging her.
Laughing, she looked up as Bane glanced back, her eyes
sparkling.

"He wants to carry me."

Bane stopped the demon steed. "I
suppose he told you that?" he enquired sarcastically.

She found nothing odd about
that. "Yes, of course."

Bane swung the demon steed and
charged the warhorse, which fled back into the woods, and he
returned to scowl at her.

"I am not a fool. You will
walk!"

She lowered her eyes. "Yes,
Bane."

For two days the army marched,
pillaging villages to strip them of food and valuables. The
occasional groups of refugees they encountered were slaughtered as
they fled or tortured to death, their bodies fed to the demon steed
and dark creatures. Mirra stumbled along behind the demon steed,
weeping for the people who died and blessing each with a swift
journey to the Lady, until Bane grew tired of her mumbling and flew
into a rage. He knocked her down and kicked her several times with
unusual ferocity, and, without her healing power, he would have
killed her.

After the beating, which drained
much of her strength, he tied her hands behind her back again and
gagged her. Mirra sensed that his anger was far more virulent than
his initial scorn and hatred. Then, he had tortured her for fun,
now he beat her with fury; incensed by the power he thought she had
over him. Her bound arms hampered her, and she struggled to keep up
with the demon steed.

The pace Bane set was almost too
fast for the troops, and whenever he got too far ahead, the men
would double time, loping after him, their armour rattling. Mirra
could barely keep up, forced to trot more often than walk, and run
when the men loped. At times she lagged behind, and Benton helped
her, but he could not give her food while she was gagged. Her
exhaustion grew more acute each day, for Bane only allowed her to
eat a little bread at night, and the hunting howls of dark
creatures disturbed her sleep. The grey stallion shadowed them in
the woods, its soft brown eyes on the stumbling girl.

In the middle of the fifth day,
Mirra fell, her legs too weak to carry her any further. Benton and
Madick picked her up between them, but the slight commotion her
collapse caused attracted the Demon Lord's attention. The soldiers
put her down and ran as Bane rode up. He dismounted and stood over
her, folding his arms.

"You are nothing but a problem,
girl. I should leave you behind for the demons."

Tears of misery and shame stung
her eyes. She had no wish to be a burden, nor did she want to be
abandoned to the demons. She flinched as he bent and pulled the gag
from her mouth with a rough jerk.

She licked dry lips. "I am
sorry. I am just so tired."

He leant closer, his eyes
glinting. "We still have a long way to go. Do you think those fools
can carry you all the way to the mountains?"

Mirra hung her head. "I wish
they did not have to. They are very kind, but it will be hard for
them. Perhaps I will regain my strength and be able to walk."

Bane sighed, straightening. His
hands curled into fists, and for a breath-stopping moment she
thought he would beat her again, then he said, "You simpleton, you
slow me down." He glanced over at the waiting men. "You there! Go
and catch that damned horse that follows us in the woods."