Demon Lord (23 page)

Two men ran off, and Mirra
looked up, radiant with gratitude at this unexpected kindness.
"Thank you, Bane."

He shrugged. "I cannot afford to
waste time." Drawing his dagger, he cut the ropes that bound her
wrists, then remounted the demon steed, which pranced with
impatience.

Mirra called the stallion in the
silent language of horses, and he trotted from the woods, the two
frustrated men chasing after him. He stopped before her, nuzzling
her, and the panting soldiers returned to their group. With a word
of thanks, she mounted the huge beast, which bent one knee to help
her.

As he followed Bane, she
unbuckled the heavy chain mail, straps and livery, letting it fall.
She did not need to touch the reins, letting them lie on the
warhorse's wither. The stallion would not approach within ten feet
of the demon steed, and Mirra agreed with its aversion to the
Underworld creature. Bane looked back and snorted, his scowl
thunderous.

Chapter Ten

The Fourth Ward

After five more days of hard
marching through peaceful dales and scenic, abandoned towns, Bane
halted before the towering grey peaks of the Dragon Mountains.
Mirra gazed up at the grim walls of Torlock Keep, filled with awe.
Carved from the granite of the mountain, legend had it that giants
had built Torlock Keep, and she understood why people thought so.
It guarded the tunnel that led deep into the heart of the
mountains, beyond which lay the peaceful kingdom of Marrane.

The mountains formed an
impenetrable barrier of jagged, snow-capped peaks that brushed the
clouds, and the pass was the only entry into Marrane from Thawnia.
The castle towered over them, the stone battlements that had been
chiselled from the rock populated by the tiny, distant figures of
sentries. Its only entrance was a huge drawbridge of solid stone,
raised by massive chains, behind which were two immense stone
doors.

The keep had been built entirely
with magic; so long ago that no one could remember by whom or how
or when it had been created. Some said that giants had built it,
but others maintained that powerful mages had been responsible, a
story borne out by the narrow, man-sized corridors that were
supposed to honeycomb the keep. Whoever they were, the builders of
Torlock Keep had not intended that it be taken.

Food was brought in through the
pass from the kingdom on the other side of the mountains, as well
as fresh troops when necessary, and the impassable peaks kept the
supply route safe. Mountain streams provided water, and no one
could poison it without scaling the almost sheer slopes, an
impossible feat even without the defenders using them for target
practice.

The guardians of Torlock Keep
had been warned of the Demon Lord's approach, and the drawbridge
was up, the keep impregnable.

Bane gazed up at the castle,
narrowing his eyes against the pale clouds' glare. The tiny figures
of soldiers stared down, safe on their lofty battlements. A banner
snapped in the wind, green and gold, bright against the drab grey
mountain. Behind Bane, his army shuffled and muttered as they eyed
the fortress. Anyone could see that laying siege to this place was
as futile as trying to halt the tide.

Bane smiled, undeterred, perhaps
even pleased to face such an interesting challenge. What looked
impossible for a normal man was probably a mere trifle to the Demon
Lord, Mirra thought. He dismounted, and the troops made camp. Mirra
slid off her mount and removed the saddle, letting the stallion
wander away to graze. She had long since dispensed with the bridle,
which she did not need. Mord put up Bane's tent, and he retired to
it. Mirra followed, keen to get out of the icy wind. He glanced up
at her entry, his eyes glacial.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, I -"

"Then get out."

Mirra retreated, stung by his
harsh words. Since he had destroyed the air demon she trod warily
around him, for he seemed to hate the sight of her now, and avoided
her company. There were times when he spoke to her quite calmly,
then rage would enter his eyes again, and she kept away from him
when it did. He no longer seemed to care about the danger of
demons, and did not insist she stayed near him, often ordering her
to leave him alone. Forlorn, she sought Benton and Madick, who
started a fire with some friends, and welcomed her company. She
helped gather wood, then sat with them, warmed by the blaze. The
soldiers discussed the keep and how Bane planned to overcome it,
many suggestions flying about.

"I reckon he'll fly up there an'
raze them soldiers," one man said.

Benton shook his head. "Nah,
he'll probably order us to scale the walls, and most of us will die
trying. But I won't, I'll tell you that."

"Maybe he can walk through
rock," a soldier joked, taking a deep swig from a wine skin and
handing it to Madick.

Madick grunted, accepting the
skin. "He won't bother with that. He'll most likely bring the whole
bloody mountain down around their ears."

"So long as we don't have to
fight them," another man muttered.

Mirra listened to their
speculations with deep sorrow, wondering, like them, how many would
die trying to overcome the keep.

"Perhaps he'll start an
avalanche," the first soldier suggested, adding a branch to the
fire.

"That'll more likely bury us.
Won't harm them, they're inside the damned mountain," Benton
replied.

"He'll probably get his friends
to help," Madick said, and a profound silence greeted his
suggestion.

Mirra shuddered at the
thought.

Dusk fell while they talked and
ate, long fingers of shadow sliding down the slopes, the sky
reddening behind the clouds, turning them pink. She sat on the
cold, stony ground, wrapped in a thick woollen cloak that a
grateful soldier had given her, staring into the flames. The men's
talk was hushed and morbid, and she tried not to listen. However
Bane decided to take the keep, she had no doubt that he would
succeed, and that it would entail a great deal of bloodshed, since
everything Bane did was steeped in blood and death. The defenders
of Torlock probably thought themselves quite safe in their
fortress, but they had not faced the Demon Lord before.

A sudden scrabble of boots made
her look up to find Bane standing on the opposite side of the fire,
his lips curled in a cold, empty smile. The men had fled into the
darkness, leaving behind half-eaten food and slowly spilling wine
skins.

"How nice it is to be so
respected," Bane mused, gazing after them. "I wonder why they think
I wish them harm. I have not killed that many of them, only those
who were cheeky. But they go to extremes."

Hunkering down by the fire, he
stared into its depths. He had shown no sign of weakness or injury
since he had been wounded at the battle, and his new black shirt
hid his wounds. Mirra doubted that any of the men even knew he had
been wounded, unless Mord had told them. If they did, they would at
least know he was human. Bane poked the fire with a stick, his eyes
glowing in its light. He seemed more approachable than he had been
in the tent, and she ventured a question.

"How will you get past the
keep?"

He shrugged. "I seem to have few
options. It cannot be stormed or starved out. The gate cannot be
bashed in, and I am certainly not going to go in there and let them
try to poke holes in me." He glanced at her. "I am not called the
Demon Lord for nothing."

"You are going to summon a
demon."

Bane nodded, frowning.

She shivered, following his gaze
into the fire. "But it might try to kill me."

"It cannot. If I summon it, it
has to obey me. When I decide to kill you, witch, I will do it
myself."

Mirra glanced at him, but he
still scowled at the fire, snapping a twig and tossing the bits
into the flames. He stood up, throwing the last piece of twig into
the fire, and she knew he was about to start the summoning. She
rose to her feet and headed into the darkness to seek her friends,
but Bane's deep voice stopped her.

"Where do you think you are
going?"

Mirra turned to face him. "I do
not want to watch. Please do not make me."

He gave a harsh bark of
laughter. "Do you really think that I care what you want? You stay
here, or I will break every bone in your body, understand?"

Mirra came back to the fire,
casting him a pleading look. He ignored her as he turned to gaze at
the flames. For a moment he stood, probably contemplating the
headache this would give him, then all expression drained from his
face. His eyes filled with blackness as he unleashed the power
within him. Raising his arms, he spoke two harsh words, and the
fire flared.

The black ring that crisped
outwards from it detoured around her feet, leaving her standing on
an oasis of normal ground. Mirra watched in horrified fascination
as the flames changed colour, becoming streaked with sick, lurid
hues. Dark power surged forth, making her stomach heave as a shape
formed in the flames, swelling and brightening, rising up in a
seven foot column. The demon took on its six-armed, three-eyed
form, and bowed to Bane.

The Demon Lord greeted the fiend
with cold words. "Mealle. How nice to see you again."

"Bane. I knew you would require
my aid," Mealle sneered.

Bane smiled and flicked his
fingers in a dismissive gesture. "A dirty job that I cannot be
bothered to do is all. Why should I, when I have you at my beck and
call?"

The fire demon's eyes flared,
but its voice was coolly controlled. "What will be my reward, the
slut's life?" It looked at Mirra, who flinched from the burning
yellow eyes.

Bane frowned. "Do not be
impertinent. I do not have to reward you, and the girl is mine, to
dispose of as I see fit."

Mealle sniggered. "If you
can."

"Be silent! Insult me and you
will pay, just as Yansahesh and Yangarra did."

The demon bowed again. "What is
the task?"

"The keep. I want it cleared out
tonight, the gates opened and the drawbridge lowered. Then you
return here, nothing else."

Mealle's glowing eyes turned to
the fortress, where men ran about with torches, alarmed by what was
happening below. Its black slit mouth curved in a smile as it
formed legs and stepped from the fire, turning towards Mirra, who
backed away. Its gaze slid over her with a sickening touch of dark
fire, and her frantic eyes sought Bane. He merely watched her,
smiling, his hard stare challenging her to defy him and run. She
stood her ground, the blackened earth burning her feet.

"A brave one, that," Mealle
commented.

"That is what makes her such an
amusing toy," Bane replied, and the demon nodded, then stepped
closer to her, extending an arm.

"Perhaps I could torment her a
little."

The Demon Lord growled, "She is
my plaything, not yours. Get on with the task. I wish to pass
through the tunnel in the morning."

Mealle sniggered and turned
away. Mirra sagged with relief, shooting Bane a grateful glance
that he ignored, watching the demon. It shrank, its limbs and
features vanishing, becoming a flame that drifted upwards. Shouts
of alarm came from the battlements as the defenders realised what
was happening. Mealle ascended higher and higher, drifting like
thistledown on a warm wind. Arrows hissed down as archers tried to
shoot the demon, but those lucky shots that hit it merely burst
into flames.

"Idiots," Bane scoffed. "Do they
think they can harm a demon with arrows?"

"They are desperate," Mirra
murmured.

"Of course."

"Will you kill everyone in the
Overworld?"

His eyes snapped to her. "You
question me?"

She stepped back, shaking her
head, knowing how dangerous it was to anger him.

He snorted, his eyes raking her.
"I will not have to, my father will do it."

The Demon Lord swung away and
went to his tent to take his potion and sooth the pain she sensed
mounting behind his eyes. Mirra sank down beside the fire and
craned her neck to watch the demon vanish into the keep, the window
through which it entered flaring with orange fire. Screams erupted
from within, and she plugged her ears in a desperate bid to block
out the sounds. The cries were still audible, however, and her
fingers made her ears ache. She eventually gave up, letting the
tormented shrieks from the keep tear through her while she prayed
to the Lady.

Occasional flashes of fire came
from within, and soft explosions mingled with the screams of the
dying. She hoped that most would flee through the tunnel that led
to their homeland, for to try to fight the demon was impossible,
and if they opened the gates and surrendered they would receive no
mercy from Bane.

Many jumped from the
battlements, landing with sickening thuds on the rocks below,
choosing to die quickly rather than be burnt to death. Most did not
have that option, however, the slit windows too narrow to climb
through. Vampires flew up to join the carnage from the horde of
dark creatures that gibbered and howled with bloodlust below, and
wights scaled the rugged walls and slipped in through the windows.
Without the demon the defenders would have cut them down, but now
they were able to join the slaughter with impunity.

Benton and Madick crept back to
the fire, and Benton put his arm about her, trying to still her
shivers of horror. The soldiers who camped around them were silent,
and no one slept that night. The dark creatures' raucous howls and
gibbers made that impossible, even for those whom the screams from
the keep did not bother. Mirra was certain the demon could have
killed all the inhabitants of the castle in a few minutes if it
chose, and the prolonged suffering of its victims was only for its
entertainment.