Dark God

by T C Southwell

  The black, lowering sky depressed her, and the birds were silent, evidently unsure of whether it was day or night. The ill effects of the lack of sun were starting to show. After more than a week of near darkness, some sensitive plants had turned yellow and started to wither. The lack of rain had not yet affected the plants, but the ground was hard and dusty. The demon steed carried them across the river. In its new guise and with its increased powers, it was able to swim the torrent. Water still disagreed with it, and the moment it stepped out, it was dry. It suffered the crossing well, however, and only balked a little at the outset.

  In the New Kingdom, Bane commanded the demon steed to travel at a normal pace for a horse, since its unnatural speed would betray its true nature. This still allowed it to gallop all day, for it was tireless, although it slowed their pace considerably. Bane was reluctant to enter the first village they came to, but he gave in to Mirra's pleas and guided the demon steed into it.

  They stopped at an inn, and Mirra's mouth watered in anticipation as she led Bane into the welcoming, lamp-lighted interior. Clean rushes covered the floor and filled the room with an earthy redolence, and a few patrons sat at the rough-hewn tables, making desultory conversation.

  Bane glared about with a fierce frown, causing men to look at him askance. The innkeeper hurried over and guided Mirra to a table, clapping his hands to summon a gaggle of maids with steamed vegetables and milk. He looked surprised when Bane swept aside his cloak and sat at her table.

  Mirra asked that food be brought for Bane as well, and this was served far more slowly, a meat stew that Bane recoiled from with a look of deep disgust. Mirra gazed at him while she ate, but he made no effort to sample the food.

  "Bane, eat the food."

  He glared at her. "It is foul human slops."

  "It is this or starve."

  His nostrils flared. "It is poison to me."

  "You are going to have to accept that you are a human, whether you like it or not."

  Bane's lip curled, and she kicked him under the table. He jumped in surprise, and fury flared in his eyes, then he subsided and picked up the spoon. Placing a tiny drop of gravy in his mouth, he tasted it. His expression remained disdainful, but he ate the stew, glaring at her sometimes, pretending he hated it whilst scraping the bowl clean. When he was finished, she smiled impishly.

  "More?"

  "No."

  "Foul human slops?"

  "It was tolerable."

  Mirra grinned with unrestrained joy at his grudging admission. He regarded her stonily.

  The innkeeper came over, frowning at Bane. "Will you be paying now, sir, or do you want a room?"

  "He is with me," Mirra said.

  The plump man's expression softened when he turned to her. "Really, healer, he looks like he can afford it."

  Mirra shook her head. "No..."

  Bane raised a hand to silence her and glared up at the innkeeper, then rose to his feet, looming over the stocky man. Mirra watched him, unsure of what he was going to do. This was a man who killed with a touch, and had no compunction about doing so.

  "Bane..." she murmured, but he ignored her, studying the innkeeper.

  "You require coin?"

  The man nodded, shifting a little under Bane's cold glare.

  Bane cocked his head. "Have you a coin?"

  "Of course," the innkeeper blustered, "but you have to pay me."

  "I merely wish to borrow it, that is all."

  The innkeeper dug under his gravy-stained apron and drew out a copper coin, which he handed to the Demon Lord. Bane cupped it in his hand, and when he opened it, a gleaming gold coin lay there.

  The innkeeper gaped, and Bane enquired, "Is that enough?"

  The man nodded, took the gold and walked away polishing it lovingly. Mirra stared at Bane in amazement as he sat down again.

  "How long before the spell wears off?"

  "What spell? The coin is gold now."

  "You must not use your power."

  "I did not."

  She frowned. "How is that possible?"

  "It is something I have always been able to do. A mere trick."

  Before she could point out that turning copper into gold was no mere trick, a commotion outside diverted her attention. A cry of pain and yell of fear made most of the patrons hurry to the door to peer out into the street. A nasty suspicion prompted Mirra to go to the door and see what had happened, and Bane joined her as she tried to elbow her way through the crowd. The men parted to let him through, glancing over their shoulders when he approached, as if sensing him. She wondered if it was just his air of dominance, or his power that made their hair bristle when he came near them.

  Outside, two men sprawled in the dirt, and Orriss stood, swishing its tail, where Bane had left it. One of the men held a rope halter, and Bane walked over to confront him as he stood up.

  "Were you trying to steal my horse?" he demanded.

  The man recoiled. "No! We saw him without a bridle, and thought he was a stray."

  Mirra walked up as Bane said, "He needs no -"

  "He is a very well-trained animal," she interrupted.

  The man, clearly cowed by Bane's glare, nodded and hurried off, his partner following.

  Mirra eyed the snorting demon steed, which looked like a horse, but certainly did not act like one. The stallion threw up its head and cantered from the village, scattering strolling people. The pack containing the tent and Bane's furniture remained on its back, but they would not need it at the inn. She turned to Bane, who shrugged.

  "He will only cause trouble here."

  Mirra nodded and followed him back into the inn, where the crowd of curious onlookers had returned to their tables. After the day's travel and big meal, she longed only for a bath and bed. Bane paused just inside the door, his eyes becoming intent. Following his gaze, she found the object of his scrutiny to be a sharp-featured man who had evidently entered the common room while they had been outside, for she did not remember him being there earlier. The man looked disreputable, but wealthy, his clothes fine and his fingers heavy with gold rings. He kept the company of a rather miserable looking, but lovely woman, whom his presence seemed to cow. Bane's interest in the couple surprised her. She had not thought that a woman's plight would move him.

  She glanced up at him. "What is it?"

  "He is a demon."

  Mirra's mouth fell open in surprise, and she turned to stare at the man, trying to fathom what made Bane so sure he was one. There was nothing unusual about him, other than his piercing black eyes.

  "How do you know?"

  Bane smiled and leant closer to whisper, "I am the Demon Lord."

  "Why does he seem not to know who you are?"

  "He is beyond the range of my influence, so he cannot sense me."

  "I did not know you had limits."

  "I do not, but when my power is leashed it is difficult to sense that far away."

  The man was on the far side of the common room, engrossed in a conversation with a stout, well-dressed merchant. Mirra's gaze drifted to the despondent woman who sat beside him, and her heart ached with pity.

  "We must help her."

  Bane's brows rose. "Must we?"

  "You can banish him."

  "Why should I? Now that the wards are gone, there will be hundreds like him, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh in such a disguise. And if I do it here these people will witness it."

  She frowned. "We cannot let him continue to torment that poor woman. I will denounce him then."

  Mirra started forward, but his hand flashed out and gripped her arm, making her glance up at him in surprise.

  "He will deny it," he growled.

  "I am a healer."

  "Can healers detect demons?"

  She shook her head. "Not like you can."

  "Then you have no proof on which to base your accusation."

  "I have enough influence to make them summon a priest, who can perform an exorcism."

  H
e released her arm. "As you wish."

  "What sort of demon is he?"

  "Earth. A lesser demon. Very weak."

  "How can he look so human?"

  "A pseudo form, like Dorel had. It requires little power to make, and, unlike her, he can do it himself."

  She studied the man again. "So he is not really dangerous?"

  Bane smiled. "He could kill you with one blow."

  Mirra shivered. "But he would not dare."

  "Why not?"

  "Because then he would reveal himself."

  "If you betray him, why should he care? He can return to the Underworld in an instant and emerge again somewhere else, which is no hardship for the reward of killing a healer."

  She chewed her lip, frustrated. "There are too many people here. They would not let him."

  "No mortal can hope to match a demon's speed."

  "Except you, I suppose."

  He inclined his head. "I have no need to enter into a physical confrontation with him. But yes, I am faster."

  "Then I shall find a priest."

  "As you wish."

  Bane walked back to the table where they had dined and sat down. Mirra headed for the door, then stopped, realising that leaving Bane in a crowded common room was probably not a good idea. Instead, she approached a man beside the door, who straightened and hid his tankard of ale behind his back like a naughty child. When he had left to convey her message to the local priest, Mirra joined Bane at the table, staring across the room at the well-disguised demon.

  Bane leant towards her. "If you take so much interest in him, he will become suspicious."

  Mirra looked away, but not before she glimpsed the man glance in her direction. A serving wench came over, her eyes lingering on Bane, her smile flirtatious.

  "Some ale or wine, My Lord?" she enquired, thrusting out a hip and placing her hand upon it.

  He cast her a contemptuous look that wiped the smile from her face. "Wine."

  The girl turned to Mirra. "And milk for you, healer?"

  Mirra nodded, frowning at Bane. As soon as the girl left, she said, "This is not a good time to get drunk."

  He glared at her. "I doubt your Overworld wine will do much to me, but I am not a complete fool."

  She looked away, chastened. "How do they make wine in the Underworld?"

  "I have never enquired. I believe the water demons make it."

  The serving maid returned with their beverages, and Bane seemed to find the wine to his liking, judging by the way he swilled it down. His stony expression and air of aloofness discouraged conversation, and his clipped answers made it difficult, so Mirra gave up trying to talk to him. Bane smothered several yawns while they waited, and Mirra's eyelids drooped as she sipped the creamy goats' milk.

  When at last the priest arrived, he came over to their table, casting Bane a curious look. He was a mild-faced, balding man clad in a coarse, cowled white robe tied with a brown rope belt, and leather sandals shod his feet. He returned Mirra’s smile and sat beside her when she gestured to the vacant chair.

  "Healer, you're very welcome in our town. How may I help you?"

  Mirra glanced at the man-shaped demon, who stared at Bane, and leant closer to the priest. "The man sitting over there with the woman is a demon."

  The priest grimaced, but did not seem unduly surprised. "We've had a few lately. Which man exactly?"

  Mirra described him, nodding at the trio, and the priest turned his head to follow her gaze. The sharp-faced man looked agitated, and rose, dragging the woman with him. The priest studied him with narrowed eyes.

  "What makes you suspect him?"

  "I just know, and it is not a suspicion."

  His brows rose. "You have a gift?"

  "I have a reliable source of information."

  The priest looked at Bane, who ignored him and sipped his wine. The man-shaped demon headed for the door, his female companion in tow, and she hung back with obvious reluctance. To reach the door, he would have to pass close to their table, and Mirra wondered how close he had to be to sense Bane. The Demon Lord did not seem worried, however. With a tight smile in Mirra's direction, the priest rose and approached the demon, confronting him halfway between his table and theirs. The man halted, scowling when the priest pointed at his face.

  "You will leave this place. You are not welcome here."

  The demon made a feeble attempt to look innocent. "What did I do? I was just going, anyway."

  The man tried to sidestep the priest, tugging at the unfortunate woman, who now looked alarmed. The priest stepped into his path again, keeping his finger aimed at the demon's forehead as if he was going to blast his brains out with a celestial bolt. The other patrons turned to watch the confrontation, many gaping in astonishment. Mirra glanced at Bane, who watched them with a bland, disinterested expression.

  "You," the priest stated, "are a demon."

  "I am no such thing! Who has accused me?" the man blustered. "I demand to know!"

  "You have no rights here, demon."

  The priest pulled a silver flask from his pocket and intoned the words of exorcism. The demon released the woman and lunged at him, thrusting him aside with a mighty push that sent him stumbling into the table behind him. Mirra jumped up in alarm as the demon strode towards her, his expression murderous. The priest recovered, opened the silver flask and trotted after him, speaking harsh words as he prepared to sprinkle the holy water on the man.

  The demon swept up an ale flagon from a table and spun, hurling at the priest, who failed to duck fast enough and was struck in the chest. Once again, the priest recovered and pursued his quarry towards Mirra and Bane as he continued to speak the words of banishment. Mirra backed away, and, as the man came within a few strides of him, Bane rose to his feet. The man's eyes flicked to the Demon Lord and widened, which, Mirra guessed, meant that he had just crossed the invisible boundary and sensed Bane's power. His mouth swung open in surprise.

  "You!"

  The priest flung a stream of holy water at the demon, and at the same moment, Bane raised a hand.

  "Begone," he murmured.

  Mirra sensed the tiny frisson of cold power, and the demon vanished, leaving a cloud of settling dust. The priest stared at it, looking stunned, and the demon's erstwhile companion fainted, causing a commotion as patrons shook themselves from their stupor to help her. The priest's eyes rose from the pile of earth, seeking Bane, who sat down and picked up his wine cup.

  The common room filled with a bustling hubbub as patrons talked and rushed about, some leaving, others gathering to discuss the event, a few tending the comatose woman. No one seemed to have noticed that Bane had had anything to do with the demon's banishment, except the priest. He walked towards the Demon Lord, his gaze intent. Mirra took his arm and guided him to his chair. His eyes never left Bane's face.

  "How did you do that?"

  Bane sipped his wine. "I did nothing."

  "Yes, you did. I didn't banish him, and I've never seen a demon vanish so fast."

  "Perhaps he decided to leave of his own accord."

  "No." The priest shook his head. "He was banished, and he seemed to recognise you."

  "How could he?" Mirra interjected. "And besides, what does it matter? The fiend is gone."

  The priest tore his gaze from Bane to study her ragged, travel-stained attire and weary face. Horror blossomed in his eyes, mixed with disbelief. "It cannot be... you... you're..." His gaze flew back to Bane. "You're..."

  Mirra laid a hand on his arm, and, when he glanced at her, raised a finger to her lips. The priest became pale and agitated, staring at Bane.

  "He's..."

  "My friend," Mirra said.

  Bane snorted, casting her a scathing glance.

  "He's..." The priest gulped, and the silver flask slid from his grasp and clattered onto the table. Bane picked it up and examined it, then opened it and tipped a little holy water onto his hand. The priest watched in stunned amazement as the Demon Lord tested
the water with a finger, then closed the flask and set it down, unconcerned by the drops of sacred water on his skin. Mirra also watched him, still holding the priest's arm in an attempt to gain his attention.

  He turned to her and whispered, "What's he doing here?"

  She shook her head. "It is best you do not know."

  He glanced furtively at the patrons. "If they find out... there will be pandemonium."

  "I know. That is why it is a secret."

  The priest leant away from Bane, his eyes fearful. "You did banish the demon."

  Bane shrugged. "Yes."

  "But they must think it was you," Mirra added, indicating the inn's patrons with a flick of her eyes.

  "Yes, of course. But why...?" He shook his head. "I don't understand."

  "The Black Lord has risen in the Old Kingdom, and he has cast aside the Demon Lord. It was he who told me of the demon's presence here."

  The priest turned to her, his agitation increasing. "What are you doing with him? Is he here to destroy us?"

  Bane's lip curled, and he looked away.

  "No," Mirra said. "He is going to help us."

  Bane snorted again.

  "All the wards are broken?" The priest seemed to have difficulty taking it all in. "We're doomed?"

  "No, we are going to defeat the Black Lord and put back the wards."

  "Goddess! How?"

  "With Bane's help."

  "Him?" The priest pointed a shaking finger at Bane. "He broke them."

  "And he can restore them."

  "Goddess preserve us!" The priest made the sign of the Lady, staring at Mirra, then his eyes flicked to Bane, and he studied him before shaking his head. "I must go. I have to pray."

  The priest rose, his eyes riveted to Bane, who sipped his wine in an unconcerned fashion. Mirra stood too, still holding the priest's arm.

  "There is nothing to fear. Tomorrow we will be gone."

  "Yes, yes, good."

  The priest hastened to the door and let himself out, ignoring the patrons who sought to thank him for banishing the demon. Mirra sat down again and looked at Bane, who sipped his wine and glared at her.

  "He will betray me."