Demon Lord (28 page)

Bane walked through the inferno
and found the young Prince, whom he had spared, sobbing beside his
father's body, crying his name. The Demon Lord gripped his arm and
yanked him to his feet, thrusting him out of the room. Mirra
unfroze from her stupefied state and stumbled after them, her
stomach still protesting the black power that had touched her. Bane
glanced back at her once, his expression wrathful.

Outside, the horde waited,
blackening the manicured gardens around the palace. Rock howlers
munched flowers and gnawed on the roots of ornamental shrubs.
Goblins relieved themselves on the lawn, and trolls reclined on the
immaculately trimmed hedges. They looked up as their master
appeared, and when Bane raised his fist they swept away into the
city with a roar, leaving behind a trampled ruin of a garden. Just
beyond the palace grounds, they clashed with the city's troops, and
savage battles raged in the streets. The horde set buildings
alight, forcing those who sheltered within to flee their
safety.

Bane thrust the stumbling Prince
at the three portage trolls who lingered with Mord, shouting,
"Bring him!"

Mounting the demon steed, he
galloped towards the distant postern gate, the two armies diving
from the fiery beast's path. Mirra urged the grey stallion after
him, but the swift demon steed left her behind and the combatants
closed in around her. The warhorse avoided the fighting men who
filled the streets after Bane had passed, however, dodging swinging
swords and stabbing lances.

Those he could not avoid he
thrust aside with his powerful chest, and Mirra clung to his mane
and the pommel to keep her seat. She glimpsed valiantly fighting
men standing in knots that bristled with steel, but the horde flung
themselves upon the defenders in a fury of rending claws and teeth,
stabbing daggers and swinging, bloody axes.

Torch-wielding goblins ran
about, thrusting their brands into houses and shops, setting alight
to stores of hay and wool. The smoke soon became thick and black,
making her eyes and throat burn as it swirled between the houses.
Fighting men and beasts loomed out of it, and the stallion swerved
to avoid their swinging weapons, his hooves slipping on the bloody
cobbles. She urged the warhorse to flee the city, and he seemed to
know the way out.

At last the postern gate came
into view, its barricade burnt to ash by Bane's passing, and she
galloped from the doomed city. Free of the smoke, blood and
violence, she gasped fresh air and let the stallion go where he
wished, not caring where that might be. After a while he slowed to
a trot, and she raised her head to take stock of her
surroundings.

Not far away, an ancient forest
bestrode the land in thick a green blanket, and she headed towards
it, drawn by an unfathomable sense that Bane was there. She found
him pacing under a spreading oak at the edge of it, the demon steed
standing like a statue nearby. Dismounting, she stood and waited,
not daring to approach him while he still seethed with the dark
power. It licked over him in shadowy flames, and she backed away
when he strode over to her. Ignoring her gasp, he gripped her
wrists, his black eyes boring into hers.

"It is lies! All lies! You are
all in it together, you humans. You are all trying to turn me
against my father. It is lies, is it not?"

"I do not know!" Mirra cried,
sickened by his touch. "I know nothing about you!"

"The Black Lord gave me this
body so I could break the wards. He created me. I am no peasant's
get!" She shook her head in helpless confusion, and he thrust her
away with a grunt of disgust. "You are useless. You know nothing.
Human trash, like all the rest."

With an effort, he leashed the
fire, thrusting it down, deep inside, his eyes turning blue as he
studied the black smoke rising from the city. Huge flames licked up
now and then, and Mirra was glad she was too far away to share the
pain of those who perished within the walls. Silently she prayed to
the Lady for their swift passage to her realm. Bane waited, arms
folded, as four running figures emerged from the doomed metropolis,
dragging another between them. They hastened up to him, Mord
leading the two trolls who held the Prince. They thrust the singed
and blackened young man at Bane's feet, keeping their distance.

Prince Holran tried to rise, but
Bane sent him sprawling with a kick, and Mirra whimpered. Bane
glanced at her, momentarily distracted, and the Prince launched
himself at the Demon Lord with a shout of rage.

"Murderer! Bastard!"

Bane stepped back, avoiding the
Prince's hysterical attack, and hammered the young man to the
ground with his fists. Before he could rise, Bane kicked him again,
sending him rolling. Mirra started forward with an anguished cry,
reaching for the injured Prince to heal him, but Bane grabbed the
back of her robe and flung her aside with such force that she
sprawled with a grunt.

"Leave him!" he shouted. "Try to
stop me this time, and I will have you tied up."

The Prince climbed to his feet
and stood swaying, clutching his ribs. Bane turned to him, drawing
his dagger. Prince Holran flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes
and glared at the Demon Lord.

"You monster," he grated, "you
murdered my father, my mother!"

"And I annihilated your city,
what of it?" Bane sneered.

"You are still human, but you
are depraved. A butcher. Your mind has been twisted by evil. You
stink of it!"

Bane laughed. "And now you will
see just how evil I am, Princeling. I do enjoy torturing the likes
of you."

The Prince spat, and Bane's hand
flashed out, his dagger slashing the youth's cheek. Prince Holran
gasped and clasped the wound, blood seeping between his fingers.
Mirra moaned, biting her lip. Bane raised the dagger again, but the
Prince lunged at him, punching him in the ribs. Mirra whimpered as
the pain of his unhealed wounds flared, but Bane hardly flinched.
His fist lashed out to knock the Prince down again, breaking his
jaw. She cried out, clasping her arms about herself as their pain
suffused her. This time she knew she could do nothing to help the
Prince. Bane beat the boy for his own enjoyment, and would not be
prevented.

Bane stood over the Prince, his
eyes alight. "You have courage, boy. I like that, it is more
fun."

Prince Holran shook his head to
clear it, blood trickling down his chin from his lacerated lip. He
could no longer speak, but struggled to his feet once more, his
face twisted with hate. Bane punched him in the ribs, and Prince
Holran collapsed again with a grunt. Mirra wailed, and Bane rounded
on her.

"Damn it! Leave, witch! Go and
moan somewhere else."

Surprised, she sent him an
anguished look and fled to where Mord erected the tent, diving
inside. There she curled up on the floor, trying not to think about
what was happening to the Prince. Mord carried Bane's furniture in
and set it up meticulously the way it always was, taking no
interest in the Prince's plight.

Half an hour later Bane came in,
shouting for his drug, which Mord had already prepared. After he
had drunk it he lay on the bed, his skin dewed with sweat, his
bloodshot eyes staring at the leather above him.

Mirra uncurled. "Are you all
right?"

His eyes flicked to her. "Why
would I not be?"

"The power hurts you, as do your
wounds."

"What of it?"

She sighed. "I can help. I know
you do not trust me, but I could take the pain away."

"Leave me alone."

"Did you kill him?"

He raised himself on one elbow,
his eyes narrowing. "Are you questioning me?"

Mirra shrank back, shaking her
head.

Bane lay down again, rubbing his
temples. He sounded tired, as he muttered, “No, I did not Go and
heal him if you want, then I can beat him again."

Mirra's heart leapt then sank.
"Please do not hurt him anymore,"

"You beg for him? You never
begged for yourself."

"I do not matter."

"And he does?"

She shrugged, but he was not
watching. "He is just a boy."

"He insulted me."

"Has he not suffered
enough?"

Bane sighed, sounding bored, as
if his rebuke was becoming routine. "Do not question me."

Mirra left him to rest and went
in search of the Prince, whom she found slumped against the tree to
which he was bound, his face a mask of pain. She laid her hands
upon him and healed his broken jaw, ribs, arm, bruises and scrapes.
The Prince opened his eyes and looked up in amazement, as all
people did who experienced healing for the first time. Mirra
smiled, and he returned it shyly.

"Thank you, healer."

"I am sorry for what has
happened to you, Prince Holran. I am sorry for your family and
city. Bane feels nothing for people. He only wishes to please his
father."

"But he feels something for
you."

"What do you mean?"

The Prince's eyes flicked over
her face. "He did not like it when you felt my pain. Did you not
notice?"

"I think I was distracting
him."

"No, your whimpering was easily
ignored, but he could not."

Mirra shook her head. "He used
to beat me just as badly."

"But he stopped."

"Yes."

"I rest my case."

Mirra settled herself more
comfortably on the grass beside him. "Perhaps he has grown used to
me. I have been with him for some weeks now."

"He is not the kind of man whom
anybody grows on, but you would grow on anyone." He nodded sagely.
"I would say he has a large soft spot for you."

She smiled, flattered. "I hope
so. I like him."

Prince Holran stared at her in
horror. "He is the Demon Lord. How can you like someone so evil?
You have seen what he does. He kills... slaughters innocent people.
He beat you. How...?" The Prince stammered into silence, clearly
flabbergasted.

Mirra cocked her head, still
smiling, her innocent eyes full of the wisdom with which she had
been born. "You should not judge, Prince Holran. That is for our
Lady to do. Bane is not the Black Lord. He is filled with pain and
suffers terribly."

"He makes others suffer
more."

"No." Her smile faded. "He
endures pain that would kill you, every day."

"Why do you stay with him?
Surely what he does is terrible for a healer?"

"Yes, it is terrible, but I long
to help him, to end his suffering. I help all I can, but I can do
so little, for he will not let me. He distrusts me, you see. Those
he slays wing safely to our Lady, beyond my help, but he remains,
and he suffers."

The Prince glanced at the brown
tent in which Bane rested. "Were you not a healer, I would say kill
him. End his suffering and ours, but I know you cannot. Even if he
handed you a knife and bared his throat, you would not strike
him."

She sighed, disliking the
thought. "No, I would not. But I can help you, my Prince, and I
will."

Mirra untied the rope that bound
him, and he glanced anxiously at the three trolls who were huddled
around a fire, but their backs were turned.

"He will be angry with you."

"He has been angry with me
before."

The Prince shook his head. "He
might beat you. Come with me."

"No, I will stay. He cannot harm
me, My Lord, I am a healer."

Prince Holran cupped her cheek.
"You are an angel. Thank you."

"Go now, slip into the woods,
head for another town where you will be safe."

"No one will be safe from him.
When he breaks the last ward, we will all perish, even you." His
expression became bitter.

"Yes." She smiled sadly.

Prince Holran took her hand and
raised it to his lips in a gesture that touched her heart and
filled her with a warm glow. Then he climbed to his feet and walked
into the forest, avoiding twigs that might snap and give away his
escape. Just before he was swallowed up by it, he paused and cast a
last glance back at her. She watched him until he vanished amongst
the trees, waited for a while to give him a good head start, then
went back to Bane's tent.

The Demon Lord did not stir when
she came in, and she thought he was asleep, but as she settled on
the floor he muttered, "You should not have done that."

Mirra shot him a startled
glance. "I had to, or you would have beaten him more."

Bane moved like lightning,
grabbed her robe and dragged her close to glare into her eyes.
"Perhaps you should be beaten instead."

Mirra paled, but met his gaze.
"If you wish."

He pushed her away as if unable
to bear her touch. "I do not wish to, and that is what bothers me."
He rubbed his eyes. "Ah, well, it does not matter. He had a good
beating already."

"Thank you."

"What for now?"

"For letting him go. For not
punishing me."

Bane chuckled with cold malice.
"He will suffer more alive than dead, his family gone, his city
gone. He will probably throw himself down a well anyway. I begin to
understand humans. They are strange, but I see their weaknesses.
Their greatest is this emotion called ‘love’. It makes them
vulnerable and very stupid."

Mirra sighed. "Yes, but it also
brings great joy. Without it, life would be empty."

"Power is satisfying. No one
needs more than that."

"Power only brings sorrow in the
end. To wield it, you must hurt people, and that makes them hate
you. Even if you try not to hurt anyone, people will always fall
prey to envy. Powerful people are lonely; they have no real
friends. Power corrupts, and one is always tempted to use it for
selfish gain."

Bane turned his head to look at
her. "You have power."

She smiled. "I have the power to
heal others, and myself, that is all. It can hardly be used
selfishly, even if I wished to."