Dark God

by T C Southwell

  Mirra put a hand on his arm. "She meant no disrespect. She was just asking a question, not challenging you."

  Tallis edged towards the door, her eyes fixed on Bane, who glared at her.

  "I do not need magic to snap your neck like a dry twig, witch."

  "Bane! Stop it." Mirra thumped him. "Tallis is my friend. She was just curious."

  Tallis blurted, "I am sorry," and fled.

  Mirra frowned at Bane. "That was not nice."

  "She hates me."

  "No, she is scared of you, and you are not helping."

  He rubbed his face, running his fingers through his hair. "It feels strange, wrong, to be here, to allow my power to be stripped from me. Without it, I cannot defend myself against the Black Lord."

  "He will not be able to harm you. We will protect you until you are ready."

  "You?" He lowered his hands as his brows shot up. "A bunch of wi-healers is not going to stop his army."

  "No, not us. Ellese is sending a message to Baron Martal. He will send an army to protect us."

  Bane snorted. "An army of primping lords and knights. I annihilated enough of them. They will stand no chance against a dark army."

  "Baron Martal is a powerful man. He has many soldiers." Her tone was a little indignant. "They will fight on the abbey grounds, so the Black Lord cannot aid his army. They only have to hold them off until you are ready to face him."

  "What if the messenger does not get through?"

  "Our messengers always get through. We have help from unexpected sources." Mirra smiled, thinking of the winged friends that helped the healers. "Baron Martal is sworn to protect us. He will come."

  Bane lay back, looking tired. "I hope you are right. How long will this... cleansing take?"

  "Initially we thought three days, but now Ellese says longer, maybe five."

  He sighed, closing his eyes, and she stood up. "Rest now, you must get stronger. You will need your strength for tomorrow. I will bring you some food."

  When Mirra glanced back from the doorway, he was already asleep.

  The purging went well the following day. After an initial struggle to overcome his training, the black fire burst from Bane again in an uncontrollable torrent that scorched the walls and cracked the floor tiles, making the attendant healers cower under their cowls. After several minutes, Bane was able to bring it under control, and, heeding Ellese's instructions, let it flow out slowly. A soft blue glow engulfed him as the black fire trickled from his flesh, but the burning grew unbearable, and Ellese stopped the purge. This time he was able to walk back to his room, stumbling a little from weakness and fatigue. He did not comment on the barren state of the chapel, now devoid of ornaments, pews and hangings.

  On the third afternoon, Baron Martal's army arrived while Bane was sitting in the garden with Mirra. The temple's inner garden remained green, for the creeping death outside had not touched it yet. Bane's lip curled in derision when the liveried troops marched into the courtyard and formed orderly ranks with well-trained precision. Their bright yellow and white tunics were covered with shiny chain mail, or, in the case of the knights, polished armour. Plumes and banners fluttered in the wind, sergeants shouted, trumpets bleated, and the men stood stiffly, every lance in a perfect line.

  Bane snorted. "Toy soldiers."

  "Baron Martal is a veteran of many battles."

  "He has never fought trolls and grotesques. Where was he when I came through, hiding in his castle?"

  "He was waiting for you to come to him," she said.

  "Ha! What reason did I have to go to him? Why was he not protecting a ward, or even a town?"

  "At least he lived to fight this battle."

  "The Black Lord's army will crush him."

  She smiled at his pessimism. "I think not. He has a great many more men than the Earl had. These are just a few of them, and he is a seasoned strategist."

  Bane watched the soldiers, making no attempt to hide his scorn. "It is a good thing he only has to hold them off for two days."

  Raised voices made them look around as Elder Mother emerged from the chapel, arguing with a short, stocky man with a walrus moustache, a cloth-of-gold tunic, and a swagger.

  "Oh, dear," Mirra murmured. "I think we should leave."

  "Why?"

  "I think Baron Martal wants a word with you, and Mother does not seem to agree."

  Bane gazed at the arguing pair. "What does she think he will do?"

  "He will probably goad you and insult you, since he will not be pleased about guarding you. It is your reaction I think she is worried about."

  A malicious smile curved Bane's lips. "I think I should meet him."

  "No! Bane, come, let us go inside."

  With great reluctance, he allowed her to tug him to his feet, still watching the duo. Baron Martal gave a shout of triumph and marched towards them.

  Mirra groaned, "Oh, no."

  Bane's eyes brightened, and he straightened his tunic, throwing back his cloak to reveal its crimson lining. Baron Martal strutted up to them, Ellese in his wake, looking cross and worried.

  "You!" The Baron pointed a rude finger at Bane. "Yes, you, you son of a bitch! I want to talk to you!"

  Bane's lip curled, and he drew himself up to his full height, looking down at the far shorter man. His icy eyes raked the Baron's vainglorious figure in its peacock trappings of yellow and gold.

  Baron Martal stopped and thrust his pugnacious face forward. "You murdering bastard! I want you to know, I would rather slit your throat than guard you."

  "Then why do you not try?" Bane sneered.

  "Oh, I would love to, but I promised the healers, and my word is my bond." Martal's pale brown eyes raked Bane. "I want to see you and that foul monster destroy each other."

  "Something else you do not have the courage to try?"

  Martal's face turned beet red. "I would, if he was not surrounded by demons, and full of that foul black power!"

  "So you are outmatched, are you not? Since I can destroy him, and you cannot, you ought to be more polite."

  "That is enough!" Ellese stepped between them, glaring at each in turn. "We are on the same side. Martal, your conduct is unseemly, and Bane, your responses are immature. We have a job to do, and I will have no infighting."

  Bane shrugged. "He was looking for it."

  "And you were only too pleased to give it to him."

  Martal turned to Ellese. "I do not know how you can stomach this Underworld scum in your temple."

  Bane growled, "I do not know how she can stand having a foul-mouthed, overdressed, conceited little prig like you anywhere near her temple."

  "You need me!" Martal blared. "Without my protection, you are a walking corpse, boy!"

  Bane's eyes narrowed. "And without me, your precious world will soon be lifeless wasteland, lighted by the inner fire and home only to demons, droges, and the Black Lord."

  "Who is to blame for that, you bastard? Who broke the wards?"

  "I did not see you standing in my way. You were hiding in your castle, piddling in your britches."

  Martal purpled and swung a meaty fist, which Bane sidestepped, letting him stumble past. The Baron whipped around, but Ellese imposed herself between them again.

  "Stop it! That is quite enough!"

  Mirra tugged on Bane's arm, and he let her pull him away.

  Martal's parting shot came ringing after him at parade ground volume. "I am going to take great pleasure in killing you, if your father does not manage it!"

  Bane strode away without a backward glance, his cloak billowing. Mirra trotted beside him, glancing up at him anxiously. Inside the temple, he stopped and leant against a wall. The purges left him weak, sapping his strength as they drained his power. He seemed empty of dark magic already, yet each purge still evinced a blue glimmer.

  Mirra touched his arm. "Are you all right?"

  He nodded. "It is not going to be easy living in the Overworld when every farmer and his son will want to
kill me."

  "No, they will not," she stated without hesitation. "You will be the one to save them. You will right the wrong you did by breaking the wards."

  "That will not bring back the people they lost. They will be out for revenge."

  Mirra shook her head. "We healers have a lot of power. There will be a proclamation that you are pardoned of all crimes committed while under the Black Lord's influence, and any who try to harm you will pay dearly."

  Bane smiled with genuine warmth, which reached his eyes for the first time, and she gazed at him in wonder. Footsteps rang in the hall, and he glanced up, his smile vanishing when he spotted Ellese bearing down on them, murder in her eyes.

  "Bane!" Anger sharpened her tone. "That was a disgraceful display of bad manners."

  Bane's face became stony. "He insulted me."

  "You did not have to reciprocate. It would have been more dignified to say nothing, then he would have looked like a fool."

  His lip curled. "If you know me as you claim to, you should know that I do not tolerate insults, not from anyone."

  Ellese sighed and tucked an errant strand of hair into her bun. "You are so large and overpowering, I sometimes forget how young you are. Martal would have been completely cowed if you had just glared at him with those chips of ice you use for eyes. You did not have to say anything. He is afraid of you. You are the Demon Lord, for pity's sake. You just had to say 'boo' and he would have run a mile."

  "He did not seem scared to me."

  "That was bravado. He was shaking in his boots."

  "Indeed? I must try out your theory sometime."

  Alarm blossomed in her eyes. "No! Bane, leave him alone. If you chase him away, we will all suffer."

  Bane gave a nasty laugh and pushed himself away from the wall, continuing down the hall to his room. Mirra followed him, and, when they entered his room and closed the door, cast him a worried look.

  "You will not scare away Martal, will you?"

  He turned to her and shrugged. "It will serve her right for lecturing me, to think so. She says I am immature, but I grew up mighty fast down there."

  "But you did not learn to control your temper, because cold silence does not work on demons or droges, does it?"

  "No." Bane walked over to the bed and stretched out on it, closing his eyes, so she left him to rest.

  That afternoon, Martal's men dug a huge trench around the abbey, throwing up a wall of mud. An army of workmen joined them, drafted in from nearby villages. Cartloads of freshly cut poles arrived, and the workmen dug a second trench outside the first, in which they planted the sturdy poles, forming them into an eight-foot-high wall. Even further away, the workmen dug murder holes, deep pits bristling with sharpened stakes to impale any who fell into them. A flimsy layer of thin poles, over which the turf that had been dug out was replaced, making them invisible, covered each hole. A third, shallow trench was dug outside the wooden stockade and filled with oil-soaked wood.

  Mirra stood at one of the abbey's windows and watched the men toil in the freezing wind, the soldiers stripped of their armour and bright livery. Martal marched up and down the line, extorting them to greater efforts, muttering about the vulnerability of the temple. He had tried to persuade Elder Mother to take the healers and Bane to the safety of his fortress, a formidable stronghold to the south.

  Bane could only be purged in the Goddess' Temple, however, so they had no choice but to remain here and fight. Mirra looked up at the dark, angry sky with its swirling clouds shot with flashes of distant lightning, and shivered. A winged shape drifted to a window above her, fighting against the tearing wind. A few moments later, the patter of bare feet made her look around as a young healer, a raven perched on her shoulder, came running past. Alarmed by the look on the girl's face, Mirra stopped her.

  "What is it?"

  The girl shook with fear. "They are coming! Yallee has seen them, not a day's march from here, thousands! They are like a great black sea, horrible monsters amongst them. They will overrun us! We are going to die!" She burst into tears.

  "Hush. We will be all right. The baron will hold them."

  "I must tell Mother."

  The girl hurried away, the raven flapping to keep its balance on her bobbing shoulder. Mirra turned back to the window as she recalled the terrible day when Bane's army had fought the Earl of Timon outside the sacked town, and had defeated him so easily. Now they faced a larger army bent on destroying the temple and killing all within, especially Bane. Remembering the dreadful creatures that had followed Bane, she looked down upon the fortifications without much faith that they would hold for long.

  Although she did her best to remain positive about the Baron's ability to protect them for a mere two days, she could not stifle a shiver of trepidation at the frightening vision the young healer's description of the Black Lord's army conjured up. Even the four trebuchet that had been placed behind the final trench, their deadly ammunition of stone wrapped in oil-soaked cloth beside them, did not inspire a great deal of confidence in her now. Dread churned her stomach, and she left the gloomy vista to search out some work, hoping to keep her mind from dwelling on the horror to come.

  The Black Lord's army arrived that night. As it gathered around the temple, thousands of cooking fires spotted the darkness like red stars. The deep muttering of goblins and gnomes drifted to the temple on the wind, accompanied by rock howlers' occasional shrieks and gibbers and distant screams as the dark creatures hunted. Mirra had heard the dreadful sounds before, but terror overwhelmed many young healers, who had to be fed calming potions to still their hysterical weeping. Bane joined Mirra and Ellese as they stood and gazed out at the dark army from one of the abbey's balconies.

  "I hope your Baron Martal has plenty of clean britches," Bane murmured.

  Ellese shot him a frown. "Do not scorn him. Your safety depends on him too."

  "He has no idea what he is up against."

  "Perhaps you should tell him. Any help would be welcomed."

  Bane snorted. "I cannot tell him anything that he will not be able to see for himself tomorrow. Knowing it tonight will not help him."

  "Why do they wait?" Mirra asked.

  "They are resting after a hard march, and preparing. More are still arriving, and they are spreading out around the abbey so they can attack from all sides."

  "Is the Black Lord out there with them?"

  He nodded. "Not close, but near enough to oversee them."

  She turned to stare at the distant fires, biting her lip.

  Ellese glanced at Bane. "You should be resting."

  He glared at her, then stalked away.

  Ellese gazed after him. "He hates me."

  "No, Mother, he is just confused. All this is new to him, and it is hard for him to accept. He is used to being hated and feared. He cannot get used to being around people who do not. He will, though, and he has mellowed a lot already, since the dark power has been drained from him."

  Ellese sighed. "I just wish he would accept my friendship, but he does not trust me, even now."

  Mirra put a hand on Ellese's arm. "He will, just give him time."

  "I have waited for twenty years, my dear. It is hard to be patient any longer. I have loved him for so long. It hurts when he looks at me like that."

  "It is the influence of the dark power, that is all."

  Ellese shook her head. "No, it is more than that. The Black Lord corrupted his mind as well as his soul. The things he suffered down there... It does not bear thinking about. He suspects everything that is said to him, hears insults where there are none, hates kindness and sympathy. He trusts no one, and it will take years for the wounds to heal. Some may never heal completely."

  "But once he is purged, he will be different."

  "Yes, for a while. What worries me is once he is healed and has Gathered the dark power again to defeat the Black Lord, will he be willing to give it up a second time?"

  Mirra looked shocked. "Of course he will."


  "Do not be so certain. He could rule the world. There would be no way to force him to renounce it, and the Goddess would be helpless to stop him, just as she cannot defeat the Black Lord." She paused, glancing at Mirra. "You do know by now what Bane truly is, do you not?"

  Mirra hesitated, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. "I have seen him turn copper into gold without using the dark power. He said that it was merely a trick... but... I did not think such a thing was possible."

  "It is not, and that was no trick." Ellese sighed. "Bane is a god, my dear. Arkonen made him one before he tore him from his mother's belly. I also have trouble with the idea. He is so... human." She smiled. "Yet that is what he is, both human, and a god. Amazing, is it not?"

  "Yes."

  "And that is why he is so dangerous. Years of torture have warped his reason. He is filled with bitterness and hate, and he has the power to lay waste to this domain if he chooses."

  Mirra stared at Ellese, stunned. "I did not think he was that powerful."

  "Ah, but he is. Even he does not know the true extent of his power, I suspect. It is hard to imagine, when all we see is a young man, but he is, in fact, a young god. He is immature, dangerously angry and bitter, and fully capable of destroying this world."

  "He would not do that. He told me he is going to put it right."

  "I pray that you are right, my dear."

  "I am certain of it. He spoke to the Lady."

  "But you do not know what she said."

  Mirra shook her head. "No."

  "Then we can only hope that he will do the right thing."

  "Does he know what he is?"

  Ellese sighed, fiddling with her silver necklace. "I doubt it. Arkonen would not wish him to know his true nature."

  "Yet he knows that he is the Black Lord's equal, and that Arkonen is a dark god. Surely he must have realised by now."

  "Perhaps. Either way, I do not think it is something you should discuss with him now."

  "No, of course not, Mother." Mirra stared at the distant fires.

  As the dim red glow behind the clouds heralded another dark dawn, two vast drums that had been placed just out of bowshot of the temple boomed out a dull, resounding beat, hammered by brawny trolls. Rock howlers shrieked and gibbered, filling the air with blood-curdling howls of feral glee and bloodlust. The dark horde roared, surging back and forth as it prepared to attack; then the army stormed the temple. A hail of arrows hissed from the lines of archers that stood atop the earthen wall, and the leaders fell in droves under the deadly rain, their screams filling the air with the chilling sounds of death and agony.