Dark God

by T C Southwell

  "Oh!" Mirra looked down at herself. "I am fine! Dorel tried to kill Bane, but I stopped her, and then he saved me."

  "Indeed."

  Ellese's eyes flicked back to the Demon Lord, who leant against the wall, studying the floor. Mirra's abbreviated explanation did little to satisfy her curiosity, but it could wait. The main thing was that Bane was back, alive. His eyes were glacial when he raised them to meet hers, so she assumed that he had had no great change of heart, but was here at Mirra's insistence. Mirra had succeeded where Ellese had failed. No matter. She nodded at the girl.

  "Good. We have little time. Come, Bane."

  The Demon Lord stepped around Mirra and followed Ellese along the short corridor to his cell. There, she once again held out the loincloth. He took it, his face hard.

  Unable to stifle her curiosity, she asked, "What happened?"

  "None of your damned business, old woman."

  Bane's harsh tone startled Ellese. It was unusually virulent, even for him. He had the look of a man who had been to the gates of Hell, except he had been born there, so such a journey would hardly constitute an ordeal for him. Whatever he had been through, she deduced that it must have been the most exquisite torture. Resolving not to ask again, she left him to change, and waited outside.

  While she stood in the hallway, pondering Bane's foul mood, she realised what it was about him that had changed. He looked older. The lines of his face had hardened and deepened, and his youthful beauty had given way to the strongly chiselled features of a mature man. She frowned. Mirra had skipped into the abbey bursting with happiness, which made her suspect that whatever had happened to Bane, the girl knew nothing about it. She resigned herself to ignorance with a sigh.

  Bane emerged wrapped in his cloak, presumably because it was chilly, or perhaps for modesty's sake. Ellese sympathised, but at least it would be warmer in the chapel, where the fires had been burning all day.

  Healers lined the chapel, standing around the walls like so many white-robed statues, their heads bowed, hands clasped in worship. Bane eyed them, reminded of the priests at the Black Lord's temple. This time he was the sacrifice, and something deep within him rebelled at the idea. He stopped, and Ellese turned to him, raising iron-grey brows.

  He nodded at the healers. "Is their presence necessary?"

  "I am afraid so. Their prayers will be needed."

  Bane walked on, his high-arched feet padding on the smooth floor. Ellese detoured around the eternal flame, moving behind the altar. When Bane followed her, he found that the back of the altar was sloped, rising at an angle to the floor, short chains with shackles at its top corners. It stood around seven feet high, and anyone chained to it would be spread-eagled against the cold white marble. He shot a suspicious look at Ellese, who smiled with gentle assurance.

  "It is not used for sacrifices. At times we use it to heal the very sick, or to cleanse black magicians, that is all."

  He glanced around. "Where is Mirra?"

  Bane's use of the girl's name surprised Ellese, but she hid it. "I thought it would be better if she was not here. It will be painful for you, and, therefore, for her."

  For a moment his guard slipped, and she glimpsed a look in his eyes that twisted her heart. The lost, forlorn look she had not seen on him since he had been a small boy in the Underworld. A look that spoke of agonies already suffered, dreading more to come. His expression was shuttered again in an instant, and he gave a harsh snort.

  "It seems you will all have your turn, first the Black Lord, then..." He looked away. "Now you."

  Ellese wondered again what he had been through while he had been away from the temple, but reined her curiosity. "Do not worry, we did not save you to kill you now."

  "Mirra saved me, not you."

  "I was the one who told her to give you the dragonroot."

  Bane glared at her. "She was the one who persuaded me to take it."

  Shrugging off the cloak in an angry, impatient gesture, he let it fall. Ellese could not help the way her eyes flicked over him, and his lip curled. The Demon Lord's broad, muscled shoulders tapered to slim hips and powerful legs. Alabaster skin lay taut over the lean, sharp-edged muscles on his chest and hard ridges of his belly. Rib ridges nestled amongst the long muscles of his flanks, where pink scars were visible.

  Elder Mother made her inspection leisurely, her eyes coming to rest on the rune scars on his chest, arranged in a deep 'V' across his pectorals. One of them glowed with a dull light, and she looked up to find him glaring, his sneer gone. He did not like being sized up, she gathered. With a smile, she gestured to the altar.

  "You must put the first shackle on of your own free will."

  Bane moved to the sloping marble slab and reached up to snap a shackle onto his left wrist. Using the steps carved into the side of the altar, Ellese fastened the other one, then descended, turned, and clapped her hands. The healers started to hum in a soft, soothing note, almost hypnotic.

  Bane tried to relax, but found it impossible. His eyes followed Ellese's every move. His limbs still trembled a little after his ordeal at the hands of the Goddess, and he strived to conceal his weakness. Ellese turned and bent to pick something up, and when she faced him again, she held a cup in which the white flame of the Lady burnt.

  Bane recoiled, pressing back against the cold slab, but the flame only flickered a little, yearning towards him.

  "We control it now," Ellese assured him. "My sisters keep the white power in check. It will not attack you. It will drive the evil from you, as it tried to do before, only now it will be gentle."

  Ellese approached him, holding out the cup. The white flame danced on its tiny wick, fed by clear oil. Ellese held it up to his chest, and it flared, flashing across the gap to settle on his skin, mantling it, crawling over him with a faint tingling sensation. At first it was almost pleasant, and he wondered why she had said that it would be painful. Then the burning began in his bones.

  Starting as a mild discomfort, it grew to an extremely unpleasant sensation, one from which there was no escape. He shifted in the chains, frowning, trying to ease the almost itchy feeling in his bones. It increased with each minute, the itchiness giving way to a burning pain, until he was forced to clench his jaw, sweat popping out on his brow. Ellese watched him, making subtle gestures, as if to guide the white fire.

  Bane tried to dampen the fire within himself, for the dark power surged through his blood, longing to lash out at the pale flames that licked over him. Four runes glowed, and he struggled to keep his power leashed.

  "Relax, Bane, do not fight it. Let it flow." Ellese looked up at him, pity in her eyes.

  His anger flared, and he was tempted to unleash the dark power, but held it back, glaring at her. He closed his eyes as it thrummed through him, demanding exit, burning his bones, igniting his blood. With every moment the pain increased, and he ground his teeth, grimacing. Agony coursed through him, his flesh aflame now.

  "Let it out, Bane!" Ellese's voice cracked with command, a thread of worry in it.

  Bane's eyes opened, and he snarled at her, unable to speak. Pain pounded in his head, scorched his eyes and filled his lungs with fire. All his years of training kept him holding it in, as his demonic teachers had painfully drummed into him. You channel it, focus it on your target, or concentrate it for Moving, rock or air walking. You never just let it out. The first time the Black Lord had channelled it into him, growling when he vomited, he had had no control over it, and it had flowed from him back into the rocks and shadows. A lash from Mealle's eyes had blistered his skin and made him scream.

  Ellese's worried voice broke into his memories. "Let it out, Bane. Relax your control, let it flow from you."

  Inwardly Bane smiled. She had no idea how much power was stored within him. Enough to air walk for fifteen minutes. Enough to raze this building to the ground, and she wanted him to let it out. Stupid woman. This was pointless. He should have just faced the Black Lord. The burning built within him, growing,
pounding, seeking exit. The white fire that flickered over his skin drew it, and the dark power reacted to its presence, pulled from his bones into his blood and flesh, where he held it trapped. The agony made sweat trickle down his skin, and his teeth ached from being ground together.

  A sharp pain distracted him, and his cheek smarted from Ellese's slap. She shouted, her voice muted by his suffering. "Bane, let go! You must let it go!"

  Numbly he thought about that, closing his eyes. Let it go, let it pour out of him, consume the chapel, the healers. Mirra was safe, only these vile women who sought to hurt him would perish. The dark power goaded him, filling him with its malevolence, urging him to end the pain, strike back.

  Ellese jumped back as the Demon Lord's face twisted, and his eyes opened, filled with fury. Their pure blue was swallowed up by inky darkness, and a prickle of fear shot through her. The pain she shared with him was almost unbearable now, and several nearby healers groaned as well.

  The black power burst from him, unfocussed, raging out from his skin in a wave of evil. The white fire met it, pushed outwards by it, and Ellese backed away in alarm. The white fire mottled as it warred with the black, then they melded, and she threw up her arms to shield her face as a blaze of brilliant blue swallowed Bane. Fierce cyan light flooded the chapel, and the healers fell silent, some crying out in fear, shielding their eyes from the incandescence that surrounded Bane.

  Tongues of blue fire lashed from him, arced into the marble floor and smashed the silver candleholders that stood on the shelves behind the altar. The candles that lighted the chapel guttered and went out, and the air crackled with a static power that made Ellese's hair bristle. A lash of sapphire flame hit her and sent her sprawling - the cyan streaked with black, almost too powerful to be transformed. Sickness roiled in her gut as she struggled to her feet to stare at the conduits of power that snaked across the chapel from the Demon Lord.

  Wooden pews exploded in showers of splinters and embers, burst into flames and leapt from the floor as the blue power snapped across the chapel in a series of crackling pops and bangs. The marble slab on which Bane lay cracked with a dull report, and the blue fire crawled up the walls to smash the metal curtain rods with dull pings and clangs of tortured steel. The stained-glass windows shattered with a roar and burst outwards from their mountings in cascades of broken glass. The healers screamed and cowered on the floor, hands clasped over their heads, many writhing and groaning as they shared Bane's agony.

  Ellese recovered her wits and gestured to some of her sisters, who hastened over to her, shielding their eyes. The flaring went on and on, showing no sign of dimming. The destruction of the chapel continued. Tiles popped off the walls to smash on the floor as the blue fire crawled under them; tapestries were consumed in blasts of white-hot flame. The chapel's heavy wooden doors burst outward, twisted on their iron hinges, the wood splintered. The fire reached the roof and crawled along the beams hewn from mighty trees. It reached the great crystal chandelier that graced the centre of the chapel and snapped its iron fixture, sending it crashing to the floor in an explosion of flying glass. Healers shrieked and tried to flee, turned back by snaking lashes of blue flame.

  Accompanied by the reluctant healers who had answered her summons, Ellese approached the blue-mantled form. Grimacing as it burnt her, she thrust her hands through the fire, her eyes closed. Her helpers did the same, though two cried out as Bane's pain flooded into them and staggered back, their burnt arms healing slowly.

  Within the blue fire, Ellese's hands touched Bane's chest. His heart thundered under her palms. She fought to slow it, her healing hampered by the dark fire, which flowed out of him in a seemingly endless tide. Her helpers groaned and whimpered as the burning magic crawled up their arms and reddened their skin. Ellese ignored the pain and concentrated on keeping Bane alive, shuddering at the corruption within him. The blue power reached the ceiling above the beams and blew chunks of masonry out of it, burnt away the mural on the arched ceiling and painted its blackened image in its place.

  The flow of black fire ceased. Several healers collapsed as the agony released them. The blue magic surged across the room, dwindling, then winked out, its source cut off, snuffing out the white. Ellese slumped against Bane's sweat-slicked chest, where the runes still glowed. Pushing herself away, she looked up at him. He hung in the chains, his head bowed, jet hair veiling his face. His heart still beat, and she sagged with relief. Bane's loss of consciousness had saved them, for without his mind, the black power became acquiescent, trapped within him.

  Never had she imagined that he held so much power. It amazed her. No mortal man should have been able to contain so much, and still there was more. Shuddering at the baleful glow of the four crimson runes that burnt like evil sentinels, guarding the dark power within him, she gestured to some healers to help her. They unchained him and lowered him to the floor. He breathed shallowly, sweat oozed from his ashen skin, and his lips were an unhealthy blood red. His lapse of consciousness had saved him too, she suspected. Any longer, and he might have died. His pounding heart slowed, the danger past.

  Ellese knelt beside him and brushed the damp hair from his face, lifting a lid to inspect a blood-shot eye. Four women helped her to lift him onto the stretcher that had been placed in the chapel earlier. They bore him to his room, leaving behind the soft sobbing of the stunned healers who sat amongst the debris.

  Mirra rose from the chair with a cry of dismay when they carried him in, hurrying over to his recumbent form. She called his name, looking at Ellese for assurance. Elder Mother rubbed her brow, still dazed. She pulled the distraught girl away as the healers lifted Bane onto his bed.

  "He is all right, Mirra."

  "What happened? He looks ill. Like he did after he broke the seventh ward, only he is not bleeding."

  Ellese put a comforting arm about her shoulders. "He had more power than I thought, that is all." She shook her head. "It was incredible."

  "You saw how much he has. He is not just some black mage. He is the Demon Lord."

  Ellese nodded. "I did not think that he stored so much within him. He will be all right. We drained a lot of it, but it will take longer than I thought, perhaps five days. I will have to ask Baron Martal for help to keep the Black Lord's army at bay until we have him ready. It means more killing, but it cannot be avoided. We must protect him while he is powerless."

  The rest of the healers filed out, muttering in subdued voices, casting half fearful, half amazed glances at Bane. Mirra fetched a bowl of water and a cloth and sat beside him to wipe his brow. Ellese hovered for a while, then left to send her message to the Baron. Bane's unnatural sleep and renewed illness dismayed Mirra. A scratching at the door made her look up. Tallis hesitated on the threshold, wide eyes fixed on Bane.

  Mirra smiled. "Come in, Tal. It is all right. He is unconscious."

  Tallis sidled in, staring at the still-glowing runes. "I heard what happened. Will he be all right?"

  "Elder Mother says so." Mirra sighed, her eyes straying back to him. "I just wish it was over, and he did not have to go through any more hardship."

  "He looks different, peaceful."

  "He is not a monster." Mirra wiped his chest with the damp cloth, and Tallis winced as Mirra's hand passed over the runes.

  "How can you bear to touch those evil things?"

  "They do no harm, they are just used to help him Gather and use the power."

  Tallis shook her head. "I do not know how you can stand to be near him after what he did to you."

  "Oh, do not be silly. He was taught to hate people. How could you expect him to be kind? He is different now. He would not harm you."

  Bane shifted and sighed as Mirra wiped his brow. His eyes opened and flicked around the room before coming to rest on her. He winced and raised a hand to his head. Mirra gestured for Tallis to bring her the cup that waited on the table. Bane drank the potion and lay back again, closing his eyes.

  "How do you feel?" Mirra asked.
>
  "Bloody awful. Those damned witches... healers almost killed me with their hare-brained scheme."

  "You gave them quite a fright. They were not expecting so much power."

  "What do they think I am, some third-rate black mage?"

  "They have not had to deal with someone like you before. They did the best they could." Mirra smiled, laying her hand on his chest to soothe him.

  The lines smoothed from his face as the potion worked, and he sighed again, opening his eyes. "I thought I was going to incinerate the lot of them, but instead it turned into a blue light."

  "Yes, the white neutralised the black, making it blue, which is neither good nor evil. Most mages use the blue. The white is impossible to store. It is the Lady's power, and rare. We are granted the eternal flame, but even that is difficult to use, unpredictable and hard to control.

  "The blue magic is the easiest to wield, but also the weakest. It cannot stand against the black or the white. Few use the black, for it corrupts the soul, and is hard to store. Black mages are like leaky pots, Gathering while they wield, but most of it seeping back out of them."

  Bane's eyes roamed over her face while she talked, occasionally flicking to Tallis, their gaze cooling when they rested on her. "I was taught to hold the black power, and the runes are part of that, allowing me to Gather more. A few black mages tried to join me when I came from the Underworld." He smiled. "They were pathetic, and did not stay long. I think they felt rather inferior."

  Mirra nodded. "The blue mage who stood against you on the Isle of Lume knew that he had no chance. He merely tried to speed your end. But the Lady blessed him when he cried out to her. That is why his magic turned white."

  Tallis spoke into the short silence that fell. "Do you have no more power now, Demon Lord?"

  Bane frowned, his eyes freezing. "Would you like to find out, girl?" He sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

  Tallis backed away, encountering a wall, her eyes wide with fright.