Demon Lord (21 page)

There seemed to be no more
wounded men, but in her wandering she came across a groaning horse.
The Earl's grey stallion lay on its side, many terrible wounds in
its chest and flanks. Healers scorned none, men and animals were
all deserving of life.

Mirra laid her hands on his
gently stirring flank, releasing the last of her power in a golden
stream. As it drained from her, she sagged against the stallion's
side, her strength ebbing with her power. Darkness impaired her
vision as the beast heaved itself to its feet, and she sank down on
the bloody ground. She shivered as a cold breeze touched her,
waiting for her strength to return.

The cold clamped down on her,
accompanied by a terrible fetor, and she looked up in surprise as
the air was sucked from her lungs. Icy, tenuous arms clasped her,
stilling her struggles, and a hissing voice sniggered in her
ear.

"End of the line, wench."

Mirra was pinioned by the
freezing air demon, her lungs empty. Ice formed on her skin,
blackening it as it froze the top layers. Agony flooded through
her, but she had no power to fight it. The cold bit into her,
sinking deeper, her skin cracking as it froze, the chill invading
her flesh with frigid talons. Blackness closed in, and, as it did,
the stallion squealed with rage, its hooves thudding down
nearby.

Chapter Nine

Air Demon

Bane looked up at a horse's
squeal, frowning. His keen eyes scanned the field for the girl's
white-robed figure. Men who had been dying now wandered through the
dead, their faces pale and shocked, disbelieving. He spotted the
grey stallion, a moment ago dying on the ground, now rearing near a
white-garbed form. He frowned, wondering what she was doing, and
how she had healed the men and horse without power. Had she been
lying about that too? Did she have power still? His gaze sharpened.
She was awfully still, sitting rigidly as if frozen, and the
warhorse pounded the ground beside her as if attacking an invisible
enemy. He stiffened. Yansahesh! She had strayed too far from
him.

Summoning the power, Bane Moved.
Instantly he was beside her, and sensed the invisible air demon.
Dark power flashed from his hand, and the demon coalesced
involuntarily as it was struck, its substance burnt to ash. Bane
experienced a moment of remorse as the demon perished, but the girl
slumped to the ground, her skin blackened and cracked, seeping
blood. Her lips were blue from cold and lack of air; her glazed
eyes stared sightlessly at the grey sky.

Bane fell to his knees beside
her, experiencing again the strange sense of loss and not
understanding it. An icy lance of pain shot through him, and
conflicting emotions warred for supremacy, most of which he
discarded as inconsequential. Fury blackened his eyes, however,
turning them to pits of utter darkness. Weakness washed over him
and his wounds ignited with fresh pain. The runes on his chest
glowed as he bent over the girl, finding a weak pulse. The Black
Lord had not won yet. She breathed in shuddering gasps, but she was
dying, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird, blood rattling in
her throat. The cold had seared her lungs, and she was drowning in
her own blood.

The Demon Lord flung back his
head and cried, "No!"

Black fire coursed through him,
fuelled by his rage. He raised his arms and performed a Gather.
Darkness rushed to him from all around, filling him with its
sickening power, yet even as it burgeoned, hopelessness invaded
him. Only the girl could heal. His power could only destroy, and
the demon was gone already. Still the magic gathered, soaking into
him, and the runes flared, burning crimson. His father would not
win. Raising his arms again, he unleashed the dark fire upwards in
a column of blackness so dense it appeared that a void had torn the
sky apart. The power struck the grey clouds, ripping them asunder
with his entire wrath behind it.

Bane groaned as the shadows
rushed through him, tearing at his wounds. The fresh injuries in
his chest and flank, so close to the four burning runes, sapped his
already diminished strength. With all his will he leashed the
power, bringing it back under control before it consumed him. As he
trapped it within his flesh once more, he sagged back under the
lash of agony that followed its taming. The clouds rolled back with
ponderous majesty, and a shaft of warm golden sunlight shot
down.

It bathed the pale girl, making
her skin glow with a translucent golden aura. Her rattling breaths
rasped in her throat, and Bane watched the sunlight soak into her.
Her hair lighted in a nimbus of pale fire, and her staring eyes
glowed like blue jewels. A shimmer of golden power licked over her
skin, and the blood stopped seeping, the cracks started to close,
the blackness receding. Her eyes closed, and a soft cough racked
her, blood oozing from her lips. Her flesh healed in the sun,
magically restored to pale gold. Her harsh breathing eased, and she
drew in a deep sigh.

The bright light hurt Bane's
eyes and its warm touch made his skin crawl, yet he endured it to
watch the miracle of her healing. He forced the dark power deeper
within him, making it recede from his eyes and drain from his skin,
leaving it coldly burning. The runes dimmed, their power leashed
once more. His hand crept to the wound in his chest that had warped
his magic, and he stared down at the girl with fresh hatred.

Mirra woke to blissful warmth.
Soft golden power glided through her like silk, soothing, wiping
away the pain. She basked in the sun's glory, soaking it up.
Gradually she became aware of a malignant presence beside her, a
source of terrible pain. Opening her eyes, she looked up at Bane,
and sat up with a cry of horror.

The Demon Lord knelt beside her,
his visage too terrible for her flinching eyes to bear. Bloody
tears streaked his alabaster cheeks, and his eyes were blue gems
set in crimson. Lines of strain and agony bracketed his too-red
lips, scored his brow and framed his eyes. Mirra reached out to
him, but Bane flinched away, scowling. With a grunt of effort, he
rose to his feet, swaying a little.

"I hope you are satisfied,
witch."

"Why? What did I do?" Mirra
gazed up at him, perplexed.

"You wandered too far from me,
when I warned you not to. I destroyed Yansahesh, and tore open the
clouds to save you. I doubt my father will forgive me for
this."

"Bane..."

The Demon Lord strode away, and
Mirra leapt up to run after him, quitting the precious pool of
light. She grabbed his sleeve, and he spun to face her, his fist
rising. It struck her on the jaw, the pain blocked, the injury
healed even before she sprawled on the ground. She scrambled up
again, and he glared at her.

"Bane, please, I can help
you."

"What have you done to me?" he
demanded. "Why can I not let you die? You were sent to kill me, and
I almost killed myself to save your miserable, worthless life.
Why?"

His face twisted with fury. "You
are nothing! A piece of worthless human trash! Yansahesh was worth
a hundred of you, yet I destroyed him. You lied to me, pretended to
have no power when you did, tried to kill me when I was injured.
You defy me, disobey me, force me to save you from your own
infernal stupidity! I hate you! I spit on you! And I will find a
way to kill you. I will break your spell, witch!"

Tears of grief and misery
overflowed Mirra's eyes. "I am not here to kill you. I want to end
your suffering. I do not have a spell on you, I -"

"Enough!" He sent her staggering
with a rough push. "I want nothing from you. I have no need of
help, yours or any other's."

Bane marched off, and Mirra
gazed after him, forlorn. He was right, she was hurting him with
her presence, putting him in danger by luring demons to try to kill
her. She had become a bone of contention between him and the Black
Lord, and the resulting rivalry between them might lead to his
downfall. Her heart cried out to help him, save him from himself,
but logic told her that she did him more harm than good.

"I will go. I will leave you in
peace then," she called after him.

The Demon Lord stopped as if he
had run into a brick wall. He turned to face her, some yards
separating them. "What?" Slowly he shook his head. "You are not
going anywhere. I will keep you with me until I discover how to
break your spell and destroy you."

"But... I have no spell."

He stepped towards her, his
expression daunting. "I should have killed you as soon as I knew
how, yet I did not. I should have let Mealle kill you, but I saved
you instead. I saved you from Amnon, and Yalnebar. I destroyed
Yansahesh! I want to know why, witch, if not a spell?"

"I do not know. It is the
truth."

He advanced on her. "I should
enjoy hurting you, but I do not. Why?"

"I do not know."

Bane gripped her arm, his
fingers digging into her like icy talons. "Well I intend to find
out. My father will help me, and your plan to destroy me will
fail."

"I have no plan. I am not trying
to destroy you." Her power reacted to his touch, but the evil
repelled it. He sensed it and yanked her forward, sending her
stumbling with a hard push.

"Lies!"

Mirra trotted ahead, keeping out
of his reach all the way back to town. He followed her to his room
at the inn, where she retreated into a corner. A cup of potion
awaited him on a table, and he tossed it back in a gulp. Mirra eyed
him, expecting a beating, or worse, but Bane sagged onto the bed,
holding his head. She shared the suffering that held him in its
merciless grip, claws of pain tearing at the delicate substance of
his mind.

It had been building since he
had used the power, and now it reached unbearable proportions. The
strain of wielding the power when he was wounded had done far more
harm than usual. With growing desperation, she tried to think of a
way to ease his pain. As he closed his eyes against the light that
amplified the hammering in his skull, she crept to the door and
slipped out.

This was dangerous, if a demon
attacked her now, Bane would be unable to help her, but she did not
think another would come so soon after Yansahesh's demise. She ran
to the kitchen, ransacking the cupboards for her herbs. Her nose
wrinkled at Mord's foul ingredients, but she found what she needed
hidden in a jar. Boiling water, she steeped the dried flowers in
it.

After what Bane had put himself
through, the pain in his head could drive him mad, even kill him.
The old mage had told him that the Black Lord had planted the seeds
of his destruction within him, and his extreme use of his power
speeded him to that end. She would have to lie, and that gave her
pause. Lying was a sin, if not a mortal one. It offended the Lady,
and she had always been taught to be truthful. The truth would only
hamper her now, however. Bane would never accept her help, which he
so desperately needed. Easing his pain was too important. It must
be achieved, even if it meant lying. Silently she begged the Lady's
forgiveness while she waited for the potion to brew, then added a
little cold water. She took it to his room in the same cup Mord
always used.

Bane tossed on the rumpled bed.
Sweat sheened his skin, deep lines furrowed his brow, and his
breath came in harsh gasps. She put the cup on the table, timidly
approaching him.

"Bane."

"Leave me alone."

"Mord brought more potion."

His eyes flicked open. "It does
not help anymore." He groaned, clutching his head.

"He made it stronger."

Bane levered himself upright,
his bloody eyes finding the cup. He gulped down the potion, not
tasting it, then flopped back. Mirra bit her lip while she waited
for the potion to take effect. After only a few minutes Bane's
tossing calmed, his sweating stopped, and the lines smoothed from
his face. For a while he lay still, breathing deeply, his striking
features relaxed.

When he sat up, he looked
puzzled. Mirra was delighted to sense no pain from him at all, just
the lingering corruption. Bane rose and sniffed the cup, his eyes
flicking to her. Putting it back on the table, he shouted,
"Mord!"

Mirra went cold. Her little
subterfuge was about to be discovered. She waited, her heart
pounding, as the troll appeared in the doorway, cowering.

Bane asked, "How many cups of
the drug did you bring me?"

"One, Lord."

Bane swung on her, his eyes
murderous. "You tricked me. You substituted your foul brew when I
was suffering."

Mirra stepped back, raising her
hands. "I only wanted to help. It did help, did it not?"

"You lied! What else does it
do?"

"Nothing. It just stops pain. It
is not poison. After what you did for me, do you think I could harm
you? I was never going to, anyway."

Her pleas ended in a yelp when
Bane's fist smashed into her face, sending her sprawling. Her power
rushed to heal the split skin and crushed cheekbone. Bane lashed
out with all his strength, breaking ribs as he kicked her across
the room. She gasped as the air was punched from her lungs, then he
gripped her robe and dragged her upright.

"First you ensnare me in a foul
enchantment, now you try to kill me. Slut! Harpy!" He hit her
again, sending her crashing into the wall, banging her head and
seeing bright stars. She slumped to the floor, and Bane dragged her
up by her throat. He pinned her to the wall, cutting off her
air.

"How I wish I could kill you."
His voice held a tinge of anguish that was not reflected in his
wintry eyes. "It would be so easy."

Darkness swirled in Mirra's
vision, and with a grunt, he released her. She slid down the wall,
ending up sitting on the floor with her back to it. For a while she
gasped, and he sat on the bed, raking back his hair into glossy
plumes with a shaking hand.