Dark God (17 page)

"You must go."

Bane nodded, and she released
his hand, bending to pick up his shirt and help him don it.

"I asked you not to come."

"I know, but Ellese was afraid
you were going to hurt Martal."

Bane snorted. "I was only going
to singe him a little. He annoys me. Am I not allowed any fun?"

"Not at the expense of
others."

Ellese watched them with a tight
throat, marvelling at Mirra's courage. She had braved so much to
earn the Demon Lord's affection - a feat most had thought
impossible. Once won, Bane's affection was well worth having, she
mused, since his attachment to Mirra was the only reason he was
going to save the Overworld, something even he did not realise, or
at least, refused to admit to himself. Mirra handed him his cloak,
and he clipped it on. They regarded each other, then she touched
his cheek in a gesture of forlorn affection, her expression
sorrowful.

"Be careful. Promise me."

A
splintering crash came from the end
of the garden as one blow of a mighty battering ram smashed down
the gates. Twenty brawny trolls staggered into the inner courtyard,
carrying the massive tree trunk with which they had just flattened
the gates. They dropped their vast weapon and reached for the
battle-axes strapped to their backs. A host of howling trolls
thundered over the fallen gates on their heels. They swung
broad-bladed axes, their eyes alight with bloodlust. Martal roared
orders at his few remaining men, many of whom were wounded, and
they rose manfully to meet the enemy.

Bane thrust
Mirra behind him and raised his arm
. A sweep of black fire lashed into the trolls like a
giant, shadowy scythe. Hundreds fell screaming as their flesh and
hair burnt away, exposing bones and boiling eyes. Some leapt into
the air and exploded in sprays of offal and gore, splattering those
behind them with excrement and shredded meat. Bane gestured again,
a negligent flick of his hand, and the fire lashed out in a stream
of burning shadow, killing many more even as they howled in terror
and tried to flee. Ellese’s stomach churned as the black power
flowed past her.

The trolls fell over each other
in their eagerness to escape the garden, and the attack became a
rout as the army turned tail and fled. Bane's fire followed them,
causing those it touched to leap into the air with agonised shrieks
and burst into flames. Many more exploded with dull reports,
splattering their gibbering comrades with entrails and blood. Some
were overcome with terror and fell to the ground, curling into
balls as they waited for death.

Bane’s
fire spared none, and Martal's
soldiers scrambled away from the carnage with cries of horror.
Smoke rose from the fallen, writhing bodies that littered the
ground, and horrible, bubbling screams rent the air. Only a few
trolls escaped through the gates, throwing down their weapons to
sprint towards the safety of the distant forest. The rest of the
army, knowing the cause of the trolls' flight, surged away from the
temple in full retreat.

Bane lowered his arm and let the
fire die, the inner garden now strewn with hundreds of blackened
corpses. Mirra stared at the carnage, a hand over her mouth, unable
to hide her distress. Healers hated killing, even if it was to save
themselves, and to see it performed on such a scale, with such
ease, and in such a revolting fashion was enough to sicken even
hardened soldiers. No one had ever seen the power of a dark god,
much less used in this fashion.

Martal's men were ashen-faced,
and many of the young acolytes had fainted. The only one who
appeared to have enjoyed it was Bane, but when he turned to look at
Mirra, his smile vanished and his exultant expression evaporated as
he realised how his action had distressed her. He swung away, his
cloak flaring as he strode through the sea of corpses and out of
the smouldering ruins of the gates. Mirra called out to him, but
that only made him quicken his pace.

Ellese went to the stricken girl
and gathered her into a warm embrace. They watched Bane walk away,
occasionally blasting the distant, fleeing forms of trolls and
goblins. The Demon Lord had utterly routed the Black Lord's army,
which feared its former master as much as its present one, and with
good reason. Mirra clung to Elder Mother and wept.

"It is not his fault. The dark
power makes him like that."

"I know, my dear."

"Goddess, he must win, Mother.
Tell me he will win."

"Hush, my dear. Of course he
will win. He fights for the good now, much as he dislikes it, and
he is a god. He will win for your sake, because, although he would
deny it, even to himself, he loves you."

"Does he?" Mirra looked up with
sudden hope and surprise. "How do you know?"

"I am not blind, dear child. Why
else are you the only one who can approach him with impunity when
he is filled with the black power? Only you can sway him, touch him
without fear. You saved him, pulled him from the evil path, steered
him back from the brink of destruction to sail into the sunrise.
You are the only reason he is going to save our world.

"Rejoice, child, the Demon Lord
will return for you. He will survive for you; win for you. You are
what binds him to life, for he has something the Black Lord does
not, the most powerful force of all. Love."

Chapter
Seven

First Blood

A bitter taste soured
Bane's mouth as he left the temple, Mirra's anguish goading him.
The Black Lord had turned him into a monster and sent him to
destroy the wards and doom his people. He had stolen him from his
parents and killed his mother. Bane had a lot to be bitter about,
and Arkonen was to blame for it all. Now the Lord of the Underworld
would pay. He would have to face his creation, whom he had endowed
with his power. How sweet Bane's vengeance would be. He would make
the Black Lord rue the day he had conceived his plan to break the
wards that bound him.

Bane headed
towards the confrontation with a purposeful
stride
, the Gather having
restored his strength. Mirra's distress at his use of the power so
close to her disquieted him, reminding him of the atrocities she
had suffered at his hands. The distant, fleeing trolls and goblins
made him smile. So much for the Black Lord's army. They stood no
chance against him, nor would they return to threaten the healers.
Their terror would sustain their flight for many
leagues.

Reaching the
belt of trees that marked the edge of the temple grounds, he
summoned the
demon steed. By
the time it arrived, he was beyond the hallowed ground, waiting for
it. As Orriss bowed to him, a bolt of lightning struck the ground
mere yards away. The flash of fire it caused turned into a rush of
sickly flames as a fire demon manifested. It swelled until it
loomed over Bane, its three eyes opening to pin him with their
yellow glare.

"Mealle, how
nice of you to drop by," Bane
said.

Mealle's dark maw curved in a
foul smile. "The Black Lord awaits you eagerly, Bane, he asked me
to tell you so."

"Does he really? More likely he
is too scared to come himself, so he sent you as a sacrificial
lamb, for me to vent some of my rage on. Does he hope to placate me
with a few demons?"

Mealle's fire brightened and
flickered. "He urges you to forget the dirty humans and join him.
He was hasty in his decision to cast you aside."

Bane smiled. "So, he is even
more afraid than I thought. I shall enjoy destroying him."

"He raised you. He was a father
to you all your life. How can you turn your back on your own
kind?"

The Demon Lord's smile vanished.
"You are not my kind, and he was never my father. He stole me,
tormented me, befouled me with his power, mutilated and twisted me,
then betrayed me. I long for his destruction."

Mealle shrank
a little, his yellow eyes dimming. "Yet you ride a
demon steed and wield the power he
gave you. If you fight for good, why do you use his power
still?"

"Because I can. He cannot take
that away, and his mistake shall be his end."

The demon drew itself up,
swelling to loom over Bane again. "Then you will die. None can
defeat the Black Lord, not even you."

"As if you care. You were
foremost amongst my tormentors, offering friendship, then betraying
me at every turn. You will pay."

Bane raised a
hand, but the demon vanished with an inrush of air, leaving a
sulphurous stench.
Amused by
the fiend's cowardice, Bane mounted and urged the demon steed
towards the Black Lord. The clouds roiled overhead, darkening the
sky to a dim Underworld glow, and lightning ripped the air with
harsh cracks followed by rolling rumbles of thunder. The cold wind
had died with the Overworld's struggle, and the still air reeked of
smoke and corruption. In the distance, the lurid light that shone
through the cracks that crazed the land illuminated the
clouds.

Black smoke
rose from yawning pits, adding to the gloom and making it hard to
breathe. Orriss' hooves drummed across the dying land, and the wind
of its passage whipped Bane's cloak out behind him, tugging at his
hair. Crisp brown grass turned to ash beneath the
demon steed's hooves, settling in a
grey shroud over the corpses of birds and woodland beasts. The
winged creatures fell from the sky like feathered rain, killed by
the Black Lord's corruption as it consumed the land.

The ground
turned to lava, and Bane had mere instants to protect himself
before he plunged in. Black power surged through him as the molten
stone closed over him. The lava slowed Orriss' progress, and the
heat pressed against Bane's shields. His lungs heaved with the
instinctive need to breathe, but he quelled it as he flowed through
the rock. He urged the
demon
steed to rise, but it was unable to find purchase on the liquid
stone. Still, there were limits, even to the Black Lord's power.
Its hooves struck rock, and it heaved itself upwards.

They traversed
the wall of a pocket of lava, rising towards the surface. Bane
exulted at the lack of pain. His senses warned him, and he turned
his head as a second
demon
steed appeared, colliding with Orriss in a slow-motion impact that
forced Bane to grip Orriss' fiery mane. The second demon steed
slashed at Orriss, its neck arching with slow grace as Orriss
turned to meet it with equal torpor. Bane unleashed a lash of fire,
forcing the second demon steed to veer away. The other stallion
screamed silently, partly burnt away, and sank into the
redness.

Again Bane
urged Orriss to rise, and the
demon steed plunged sluggishly up the sloping rock. Bane
fed his hatred as they struggled from the trap, stoking the flames
with fresh rage. Images of his brutal treatment of Mirra flitted
through his mind, atrocities he had committed in the Black Lord's
name, influenced by his depravity.

The
demon steed emerged from the lava
unharmed, as did Bane. He looked back as the glowing pool vanished.
With a smile, he ordered Orriss onwards. While he had been below
ground, Arkonen's use of the dark power had caused the wind to rise
once more, and it howled with the Black Lord's fury. Lightning
crackled all around Bane, turned away by his magic. Dead trees
thrashed in the wind, lashing him with bare branches, gnarled
wooden claws tearing at him. Vivid flashes illuminated the
landscape with painful brilliance, throwing everything into stark
relief darkness swallowed it again. It seemed as if night had
fallen, for no glimmer of light came through the clouds
now.

A bolt of
lightning revealed a movement beside him, and Bane ducked as
something h
issed past his
ear. Halting Orriss, he turned to find his attacker in another
white flash. A black-clad man struggled to reload a crossbow, then
turned and fled when he realised that Bane had seen him. Bane
frowned and gestured, unleashing a lash of fire that reduced the
assassin's droge form to a splattered pool of grey sludge, and his
corrupted soul vanished into the ground.

Bane rode on,
but moments later the assassin stepped from the trees again, and
another quarrel skimmed past Bane's cheek. He stopped and burnt the
droge to sludge, then urged Orriss forward. Just a short distance
further on, a third bolt buzzed past, so close this time that it
tugged at the sleeve of Bane's tunic, and he halted Orriss once
more. A bolt of lightning revea
led a fleeing figure, and Bane destroyed the assassin’s
droge form again, but this time he waited.

The persistent assassin annoyed
Bane. He could shield himself from the bolts, but that meant using
power and concentration, something he resented doing for any length
of time, especially for such an insignificant foe. Within a few
minutes, the assassin reappeared in a surge of dark power,
staggering a little in the aftermath of the Sending. His expression
stiffened when he found Bane waiting for him, and he raised the
crossbow. Bane reduced the weapon to molten metal with a wave of
his hand, and the man dropped it. The Black Lord sent his assassin
to Bane's location, but he had no way of knowing, nor did he care,
that Bane would be prepared this time.

Bane raked the man with a
contemptuous glance. "What did he promise you, fool? A form that
feels pleasure, to keep forever? Or just an end to your torment? Do
you not know that the Black Lord does not keep his word?"

The assassin yanked a dagger
from his belt, but it sagged as the crossbow had done.