Demon Lord (16 page)

A grey shape barrelled out of
the blue gloom and slowed beside her. Mirra gripped the smooth fin,
and the dolphin lashed its flukes, powering for the surface. They
broke through in a spray of brine, and she gasped blessed air,
clinging to the smooth form beside her. The dolphin supported her,
and its calm, beautiful Song soothed her. More grey shapes broke
the surface nearby, sending up gusts of spray with soft puffing
sounds. She joined the Song again, singing her love for these
gentle, generous animals that had come to save her.

A cold hand gripped her ankle
and dragged her down, breaking her grip on the dolphin. She
screamed, her air rushing out in a stream of bubbles as terror
swept through her in an icy tide. The dolphins responded, concerned
but frightened, and a sleek shape slipped up beside her. As she
reached for its fin, a burst of dark power came from below. The
dolphin convulsed, shuddering, and its air bubbled from its
blowhole. A demon. She looked down, but little was visible in the
gloom. The dolphin lay still beside her, its gentle eye blank in
death. Mirra released its body as the Song of its companions turned
to sorrow. The one they had just lost was a father, brother, son
and mate to them, and their grieving Song washed over her.

Mirra added her sorrow to
theirs, and they accepted her grief, another streamlined form
slipping up beside her. Mirra pushed it away, crying out a warning,
and in a moment the dolphins had vanished, leaving only their Song
behind. The dead dolphin floated upwards, and Mirra joined the Song
again as she sank into the black depths, the demon's grip on her
ankle pulling her down.

Bane leant over the rail and
glared at the raging sea, cursing his father. Now he would not only
get a headache, he would have to get wet too. He hated water in any
form, and if there was one thing worse than the accursed rain, it
was this vast expanse of cold sea. It was probably part of his
father's plan, to see if he would get wet in order to rescue his
plaything from the depths. Cursing again, he flung off his cloak
and leapt overboard.

The sea held no danger for him,
although he had never been taught to swim, since there was no water
in the Underworld. The dark power protected him, and other than
being wet and cold, the sea could not harm him. He dived into the
water and down, propelled by dark power. The Song of the sea
repelled him, its harmony a discord to his ears. Grey shapes darted
past and vanished into the gloom, trailing grief. He sensed the
girl's presence like a beacon, and near her, a cloaked water
demon.

Increasing his power, he rushed
towards the fleeing demon, rapidly catching up, for its power was
no match for his. All it had to do was keep the girl under long
enough to drown her, however, and it would win. Spurred by anger,
he moved faster still, determined to defeat it. The girl became
visible in the gloom, the water demon towing her deeper. Bane
unleashed a burst of dark magic, forcing the demon to release her
and retreat, radiating triumph. Bane swept up to her, gripped her
robe and powered for the surface.

When he reached it, he turned
her to face him. She seemed dead, her face ashen and her breath
stopped, but her heart still beat. The waves hampered him, tossing
him about, and wind-torn spray stung his eyes. He knew she must
breathe again, or the Black Lord had won.

Bane winced at the prospect of
the headache that would result from this, then gathered his power
and rose out of the sea on a pillar of fire. Free of the beating
waves, he put his mouth over hers and breathed air into her lungs.
The touch of her cold lips revolted him, and his stomach heaved.
Angrily he did it again, and this time she coughed, white foam
oozing from her mouth. Turning her so she spat it out, he let her
choke and gag as he headed for the ship.

Mirra woke to find herself
tucked under Bane's arm, floating above the sea on a column of
black fire. The immense power that coursed through him made her
vomit, and he grunted in disgust, shifting his grip as if he longed
to drop her. Steam swirled below, swept away by the wind, for where
the fire touched, the water boiled. The Demon Lord travelled
towards the distant ship, apparently without effort. The dark fire
suffused her with the terrible evil he radiated, now that she no
longer had the power to ward it off.

Bane floated over the side of
the ship, and the fire scorched the deck before he cut it off and
dropped onto the smouldering wood. Men hurled water on the burning
deck as he walked away with his burden. He did not carry her far
before he dumped her on the deck and wiped the hair from his face,
glaring down at her.

"Do not thank me, girl, you will
pay for it."

The Demon Lord walked away, and
she wheezed, trying to suck air through a raw throat. Benton
appeared at her side and placed a dry blanket around her shoulders
as the icy wind chilled her even more than the freezing sea had
done, making her shiver violently. He rubbed her arms and chafed
her hands, encouraging her to keep moving and not retreat into a
shivering huddle.

When she managed a jerky nod, he
helped her onto shaking legs, and she wobbled below with him. In
the damp dimness of the crew's quarters, she sat on a bunk and
drank the water he gave her, the sweet taste a balm to her burning,
salty mouth. Between them they stripped off her wet robe, and
Benton wrapped her in a dry blanket. She continued to shiver from
shock as well as cold, and longed for a cup of hot soup or tea to
warm her frozen insides. With all the crew fighting the storm,
however, there was no fire in the galley.

Benton sat beside her and shook
his head in wonder. "I never saw anything like that before, healer.
He just floated on that fire, like some damned awful dragon."

"He is very powerful."

"Evil too." He touched her
bruised cheek. "Look what he does to you, and then he saves
you."

She nodded. "I do not understand
him either."

"It's like he thinks you belong
to him. As if he keeps you alive because you're his, not because he
likes you or anything."

Mirra rubbed her burning eyes
and wet a cloth to wipe the salt from her face. "He is confused and
lonely. I like him."

"He's a monster. He's going to
free the Black Lord and ruin this world. If I could, I'd fight him,
but I can't, so I'm just staying alive as long as I can. Nobody
likes him; not even his father, I'll wager."

"No, probably not, but I
do."

Benton shook his head. "You're
just too good. You don't know what hate and anger are."

"I am glad of it, for they would
do me no good."

The soldier stood up. "I'd
better get back on deck, there's still a storm out there. You stay
here until you feel better."

Mirra smiled, and he climbed
back up the steps to re-join the battle with the storm. She rose
and reeled along the swaying passage to Bane's cabin.

Chapter Seven

The Isle of Lume

Bane lay on the bed, clad only
in his trousers, his skin gleaming with water. He gripped his
pounding temples as he fought the terrible headache that the potion
had clearly not soothed, grinding his teeth, his eyes clenched
shut. Mirra crept into the cabin, her heart torn with pity. She
longed to help him, but settled on the floor to watch him.

Soon he rolled onto his side
with a groan, then sensed her presence and opened his eyes a slit,
groaning again. "Are you an imbecile?"

"No."

"You tempt my
anger, you know that? Next you will start whining about how
grateful you are, and how much you
like
me
." He spat the last words.

"But I do. You did not have to
save me, and now you suffer because of it."

"You are wrong. I did it because
my father said he would kill you and I said he would not." He
rubbed his temples and ran a hand down his face as if trying to
wipe away the pain. "You are a bone between two dogs, witch. As for
the pain, I am accustomed to it."

Mirra shook her head. "I have no
wish to die, but there would be no shame in losing to your
father."

"It is not about shame, idiot,
it is about power. Now get out and leave me alone."

Mirra obeyed, although she hated
to let him suffer alone, she did not wish to upset him. She sat in
the passage outside his door, huddled in the blanket. Benton found
her there later, and gave her an old blue robe. She put it on and
thanked him.

He said, "The storm's dying down
at last. Come and eat with us."

Before she could agree, the
cabin door was yanked open, and Benton fled as Bane appeared. He
glared at her with bloodshot eyes, then gripped her arm and dragged
her inside. His lips were unnaturally red, and his black mane,
stiff with salt, contrasted starkly with his alabaster skin. He
looked ill, and her healer's longing to alleviate suffering flared
as it always did in his proximity. The evil flooded into her from
his hand, and she flinched from it. He pushed her against the bed
and paced the worn carpet.

"What do you think this is, a
damned leisure cruise?"

"No."

"Anyone would think so, the way
you and that scruffy traitor carry on. Stray too far, girl, and you
will die. Like you nearly did with the water demon, and yet you are
so monumentally stupid you still go swanning off whenever you feel
like it." He stopped before her and placed his fists on his slim
hips. Mirra leant away from his anger, and he raked her with a
scornful look. "You have already given me one headache too many,
and I tire of it. Next time you wander off and a demon finds you,
so be it. I will not rescue you again, understand?"

She nodded, gazing up at his
drawn face. The headache was obviously still bothering him, and
impulsively she said, "Let me help you."

He gave a harsh bark of
laughter. "You cannot, remember?"

"I could make a medicine for
you."

"With what? I do not see you
carrying a witch's bag."

"There must be herbs in the
ship's stores I could use."

Bane's eyes narrowed, but he
seemed to consider this. "Very well, do it."

Mirra's heart sang with joy as
she trotted through the heaving ship to the galley. A twinge of
trepidation made her pause, for she was away from him again. Was
that why he had agreed, to see if she would ignore his warning? She
shrugged it off, determined not to let her fear of demons keep her
from her calling. At last he was going to let her help him, and
this was her chance to prove her good intentions. Once she had
shown him her ability to sooth his pain with her healer's skills,
surely he would soften his demeanour towards her and accept her as
the friend she wanted so desperately to be?

It might seem strange to those
who hated him for his evil ways, but healers made no judgements
about such things; it was not their place. A healer's mission in
life was to help others, no matter who they were. She rummaged
through the cupboards, finding a selection of herbs, some of which
were used for healing. After several minutes of searching, she
found what she wanted, and steeped the dried flowers in boiling
water. She made it strong to impress him, added cold water to it,
and hurried back to his cabin. Bane watched her from the bunk. As
she approached with the cup, he sat up and gestured to the
table.

"Put it there."

Perplexed, she obeyed. "It is
not hot."

He smirked, then shouted, "Mord!
Get your ugly hide in here!"

Mord appeared in the doorway,
cringing. "Yes, Lord?"

"Bring me the man she has
befriended."

Mord left, and Mirra wondered
what he planned to do with Benton. He regarded her coolly, his hard
expression telling her nothing, and the silence grew strained as
they waited. She stood by the wall, bracing herself against the
ship's rolling, while he sat swinging a leg, seemingly relaxed, but
for the lines between his brows that told of the pain in his head.
At last Mord returned with a frightened-looking Benton, who
hesitated on the threshold. Bane snorted.

"I know he is too afraid to come
near me, so give him the cup."

Since he had to come within
touching distance of the Demon Lord to fetch it, Mord almost
crawled to the table. He grabbed the cup and retreated to the door,
handing it to Benton, who took it as if it was a poisonous snake.
Bane nodded at the terrified soldier.

"Drink it."

Mirra said, "But it is for
you."

"I know, stupid, that is why he
is going to drink it."

"But he has no pain."

"I do not care." He scowled at
Benton. "Drink it!"

The soldier gulped down the
potion, his hands shaking. Mirra gazed at Bane in confusion as he
watched Benton, a slow smile tugging at his lips. The soldier
shifted under the Demon Lord's cold eyes, his own fixed on the
floor. Mirra went over to him and laid a soothing hand on his
arm.

"What was that?" he whispered,
darting Bane a furtive glance.

"Just something for pain. It
will do nothing to you."

He relaxed a little. "Why did he
want me to drink it?"

"I do not know. I made it for
him."

"Oh. I see." He sighed with
obvious relief.

"What?"

Benton leant closer and
whispered, "He thinks it's poison."

Mirra paled and turned to Bane
in surprise and disappointment, blurting the words Benton had
whispered so confidentially in her ear. "You thought it was
poison?"

He looked exasperated. "Do not
try to pretend it was not. Your innocent act does not fool me. You
obviously do not care for this man as much as you pretend, for you
did not even try to stop him from drinking it. Admirable. Even
healers are prepared to make sacrifices to win this war, it seems.
I will enjoy watching him die. How long does it take?"