Demon Lord (37 page)

Mirra was in more danger now
than ever. If the wards were so weak that demons could rise and
take human form, they could trick her too. She must contact her
soon and explain everything, so she would know what to do. While
she stayed close to Bane it was impossible, however, and if she
strayed from him, she was in peril. Sighing, Ellese tucked the
flower into her bodice and watched two young acolytes digging up
weeds in a flowerbed. The abbey was safe, for now, but if the Black
Lord rose, nothing would be.

Turning, she headed back to her
room. She must stay close to her glass, so she would be there when
the opportunity came to contact Mirra.

Mirra woke enfolded in luxuriant
softness. Stretching, she opened her eyes and froze. Bane lay
beside her, so close that she had almost brushed against him when
she stretched. Her heart skipped a beat and began to pound. Her
first impulse was to jump off the bed and get away from him as
quickly as possible, but then she realised that no dark power
emanated from him.

Mirra edged away, her eyes fixed
on him. He was fast asleep, and looked oddly vulnerable. In repose,
his face lost a lot of its fierceness, his lips no longer twisted
in a perpetual sneer, his brow smooth. The sharply angled brows and
widow's peak still gave him a demonic look, but his mouth was well
shaped and gentle when not twisted, and his long black lashes lay
innocently against his cheeks.

Mirra smiled. The Demon Lord
looked like nothing more than an extremely handsome young man. How
strange, she thought, that he should have such an arresting face
when he should be ugly to match his deeds, and the evil within him.
With his tormented eyes closed, however, he did not look
frightening at all. His eyes were the source of her fear. The
hatred in their clear blue depths chilled her, and when they turned
black they terrified her. Her gaze dropped to his chest, where the
red rune scars were stark against his skin, the only outward sign
now of the evil power within him.

Bane's eyes flicked open, and
she recoiled, slipped off the bed and landed on the floor with an
inelegant thud. The bed creaked as he sat up and peered down at
her, his sneer back, his eyes cold with contempt. She scrambled to
her feet, backing away, and he smiled.

"If I had known that you wished
to share my bed, I would have invited you."

Blood rushed to her face. "I do
not. I fell asleep, by accident."

"What were you doing on it in
the first place?"

"I just wanted to try it. The
floor is very hard."

Bane snorted. "Well, stay off it
in future."

"I will. I am sorry."

Bane slid off the bed and stood,
favouring his blackened foot. When he was dressed, they ate the
breakfast already waiting on the table, no doubt served by the
ever-faithful Mord.

Mirra blew on a spoonful of
steaming porridge. "Are we leaving today?"

"No. I would like to, but I want
to give Agden a chance to try his luck. No doubt he will have
planned a day of entertainment, and will seek his opportunity
during it."

"Why do you want to do
this?"

He shrugged, as if killing a man
was no more important than swatting a fly. "He annoys me."

A timid tapping on the door
heralded a grovelling priest, who informed Bane that Agden had
organised a day of games, fights and orgies for his pleasure. Bane
pretended to consider.

"What manner of fights?"

"Gladiators, Lord."

"Do they kill each other?"

The priest shook his head
awkwardly, still prostrated, since Bane had not let him rise. "Not
usually, Lord."

"How boring." The Demon Lord
yawned. "You tell Agden, if he wishes me to stay he will have to
have a lot of bloodshed in his arena, or I will be displeased."

The priest scuttled away. Even
they had lost their dignity with Bane, Mirra reflected, he inspired
fear in all those around him. Perhaps it was the aura of dark power
that hung about him like a cold shroud, or the icy glint in his
eyes, which informed everyone that he was a cold-blooded killer.
She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. The thought of watching
men fight to the death sickened her. She had already seen more of
it than she could bear. There was nothing glorious about a sword in
the gut, nothing heroic about blood spurting from a sliced throat.
The smell of gore and excrement was hard to forget, its sickly
taste stayed in her mouth for days, as if the cloying stink clung
to the inside of her nose.

She glanced at Bane's grim
visage. "May I stay here?"

He frowned. "No."

Mirra's heart sank, but she knew
it would be useless to argue, he was clearly in an unbending
mood.

The arena's huge stone blocks
looked newer than the rest of the city, as if it had been a late
addition. The stepped interior provided seats for the masses, and a
crowd was already in attendance when Bane arrived. Most wore drab
tunics of black, brown or crimson, some were clad in dull green,
but gay colours like yellow, blue or pink were absent. The murky
grey sky dampened the festive air somewhat, since bright, warm
sunshine would have added to the crowd's enjoyment of the day.

When the Demon Lord appeared, a
muted roar of welcome greeted him, which he ignored. A priest
guided Bane to a lone chair on a platform cut into the side of the
arena, above and separate from the common folk, set aside for
royalty and the priesthood. Agden sat a few feet to his right, and
the priests were ranged behind them. A rich black velvet parasol,
edged with gold, shaded them from the weak sunlight. Mirra settled
beside Bane's chair, trying not to attract unwelcome attention.

The games began immediately, but
it soon became obvious that the Demon Lord found foot races
intensely boring, judging by his yawns, and the athletes were
shooed off, giving way to the fighting. The gladiators fought
slaves, who had no idea how to use the weapons that had been placed
in their unwilling hands. It was little more than butchery, and the
arena soon stank of blood and death. Bane seemed to enjoy it,
although even Agden looked mildly sickened, and Mirra refused to
watch, plugging her ears.

At last lunch was served, and
the men gravitated to the laden tables behind the royal grandstand.
Mord brought Bane his Underworld food, which the priests eyed with
the same greedy glint in their eyes that Orran had displayed. Mirra
could eat nothing, her stomach in knots, though the others had no
such qualms and tucked into the succulent spread. Agden kept
glancing at her, and finally plucked up the courage to ask about
her.

"Lord, who is the girl?"

Bane glanced at her, and his lip
curled. "Nobody."

Agden's eyes gleamed. "She is
your captive?"

"Yes."

"Why do you keep her?"

Bane shrugged.
"Entertainment."

"Ah." Agden smiled. "I too,
enjoy such pleasures a lot. Perhaps I could borrow her sometime?"
He leered at Mirra.

Bane's spoon hit his plate with
a clatter, and everyone froze. He turned to glare at Agden, who
shrank back. "Agden, your stupidity is only outstripped by your
arrogance. What is mine is not for the likes of you to borrow, not
even to ask for, ever."

Agden nodded vigorously, his
face ashen. As Bane turned away, the Emperor's eyes lost their
fear, becoming glacial. Mirra shivered as he shot her a promising
look.

After lunch, Bane led the clutch
of dignitaries back towards the grandstand, passing through a knot
of young priests waiting to clear away the remains of the feast.
The hard-faced youths prostrated themselves as Bane passed them,
but Agden did not follow him, and Mirra paused, watching him. A
faint smirk tugged at the Emperor's lips, and his eyes darted, then
he gave an imperceptible nod to the young priests Bane had just
passed.

She shouted, "Bane!"

Four priests charged Bane,
drawing daggers. The Demon Lord spun, his eyes turning black as
dark fire poured from his hands. Two priests were flung back,
engulfed in flames, the other two exploded in a shower of blood and
guts, splattering the senior priests near Bane. They recoiled with
cries of horror, backing away as Bane watched the screaming youths
burn.

As the last one stopped
writhing, he turned to Agden. The Emperor gaped at the corpses, his
eyes wide with shock and terror. Everyone else had moved away from
Bane, but Agden stood transfixed, perhaps frozen by the enormity of
his betrayal and the realisation of what his failure would cost
him. Bane glared at him, and Agden raised his hands, starting to
back away. Bane's eyes remained black, and dark power emanated from
him in sickening waves.

Mirra retreated, burning with
the agony that had flooded into her from the stricken priests as
they died. The searing pain had punched the air from her lungs and
robbed her of the ability to scream. Bane advance on the Emperor,
and Mirra dreaded what was to come.

"You arranged that bit of
entertainment, not so?"

Agden shook his head. "No! I
swear I had nothing to do with it!"

"Do not lie to me, fool." Bane
loomed over him. "I know you do not want my father to rise. It
would rob you of most of your petty power, would it not? You do not
want to show me proper respect, you certainly would not want my
father here."

Agden fell to his knees and
pressed his forehead to the ground. "Lord, I did not send them, I
swear!"

Bane's expression became
scornful. "Do not beg for mercy, Agden. Pleas for mercy only fill
me with contempt. You are supposed to be an emperor, a high priest,
charged with the worship of the Black Lord. Instead you are a
grovelling, snivelling pig who thought to challenge me, the Black
Lord's son. Did you think your minions could kill me?

"You are a powerful black mage
in your own right, granted that power by my father. A big mistake,
it seems. You will pay dearly for your effrontery, and my father
will enjoy tormenting you. He will show you the meaning of pain.
Your puny powers will avail you nothing down there." Bane studied
the grovelling man. "Raise your head."

Agden obeyed, his hands clasped
in supplication. "Spare me, Lord, I -"

"Be silent." Bane reached down
as if in benediction and touched Agden's head.

"No! Please, Lord!" Agden's cry
ended in a strangled scream as the burning power flowed into him,
boiling his insides while he thrashed and shrieked. His skin
blackened, and smoke rose from his smouldering robes. With a choked
cry, Mirra fled.

When she reached the room with
its softly glowing runes promising safety, she flung herself onto
the bed and wept. Bane's penchant for death filled her with
despair. How could a man enjoy inflicting pain and death so much?
Every time he killed, it grew more unbearable for her. The more she
liked him, the more his evil ways hurt her. No wonder the men of
his army feared him so much. No doubt they had witnessed just that
sort of exhibition, and that was why they would not come near him.
Until now, she had not realised the true horror of his power; that
he could kill so terribly with a mere touch.

"Girl."

Mirra scrambled off the bed at
the sound of Bane's voice. He stood in the doorway, scowling, his
eyes blue once more, the power leashed within him. She backed away,
not wanting him near her after what she had just seen.

He closed the door. "I did not
give you permission to leave."

"I could not bear it." She
pressed her back to the far wall, wishing she could sink through
it.

Bane approached her. "Now you
know why no one comes near me."

"Yes."

"So will you scuttle from me
too, now?"

"No."

He stopped in front of her. "Why
not?"

"I do not fear death like they
do."

"Still, it is painful, as you
know. Now you have seen what happens to people who try to kill
me."

She edged away along the wall.
"I am not trying to kill you."

"So you say, but I know you
are." He grabbed her arm, and she cried out, shuddering at his
touch, which had just killed a man so monstrously. Bane smiled
wryly. "Your spell protects you. Why do you fear me?"

"Because I have no spell."

"Why do you keep lying? I know
you have a spell, because I feel it. If you did not have it, you
would be dead long ago."

She gazed up at him. "What do
you feel?"

"I have told you, and I shall
not repeat it. The entertainment is over, so we are leaving. These
idiots can amuse themselves finding a new emperor. I have two more
wards to break."

Bane pushed her towards the
door, and she gladly moved away from him. Mord waited outside, the
Demon Lord's pack already strapped to his back. He scurried down
the corridor, and Mirra followed, uncomfortably aware of Bane
radiating cold anger behind her.

The Emperor's death had thrown
the city into confusion, and the people in the arena had long since
fled to spread the news of what they had witnessed. Priests abased
themselves as the Demon Lord passed, but the populace stayed away,
peering from the shadows of doorways and windows. The demon steed
pranced and snorted fire, eager to be off, and the grey stallion
was just as keen. The dwindling army straggled behind them, unhappy
about leaving the city, where they had been made welcome in every
possible way. Bane would win no popularity contests, Mirra mused.
He had come to a city that idolised him, and left one that only
feared him. She was undoubtedly the only person in the world who
liked him.

Unlike the previous day, she
sensed the forest's malevolent gloom, with its towering, ancient
trees and dripping moss. To her relief, after a few hours they
journeyed into more normal woodland. She put the horror of what she
had witnessed from her mind, since dwelling upon it did no good,
concentrating instead on the passing scenery as they traversed a
rocky, mountainous land thickly wooded with conifers.