A small, skinny howler staggered from the fracas and collapsed, exhausted, keening in a high, nasal whine. Tallis had not expected this. She had thought they would carry the food with them and eat it on the journey, or at least divide it up equally amongst themselves. Desperate to at least distribute it fairly, she tried to wade into the mob and fetch some for the weak howler and others like him, thinking the howlers would let her. Many dirty hands ejected her forcibly from the fray with as little consideration as they had shown the weaker members of their species. She stumbled back and sat down in the ash, jarring her tailbone. The trolls and goblins shuffled closer, their eyes on the feeding howlers, their lips wet with drool.
"No!" Tallis shouted. "It is not for you, only for them!"
The trolls and goblins growled, and she cast a desperate glance at the temple, where several healers watched with patent disapproval, and the men bearing the next load had stopped. Tallis turned back to stare at the sea of dark people that surrounded the temple, for whom the food that was available would be less than a mouthful each. If they entered the fray it would be a disaster, and bloodshed would be inevitable. The howlers made up only a fraction of the army, and even for them the food was pitifully little. The trolls and goblins advanced menacingly now, closing in on the two squabbling knots of howlers.
They halted, their eyes focussing on something behind her, and from their expressions she knew who it was. Bane strode past her, and the dark army retreated, except for the howlers, who seemed oblivious to everything but the food they so desperately needed. The Demon Lord halted beside one of the struggling groups, and those on its outskirts spotted him, sidling away.
"Stop this," he said.
The bulk of the combatants froze, watching him as they munched the food, while others moved away, their cheeks stuffed with potatoes and flour. Those who had not managed to reach the food gazed at Bane hopefully.
He turned to Tallis. "Tell them what you will. They will obey now."
Tallis stood up, brushing ash from her robe as she addressed the howlers. "Each of you take one potato and a handful of flour, then go and wait over there. Those who have already eaten go there now."
Tallis indicated an area away from the trolls and goblins, and some of the howlers moved away from the food, shooting her dark looks. A troll stepped forward and bowed to Bane.
"Lord, we hunger too."
Bane glared at him, making him cower. "You will eat the dead, as you have been doing. They do not eat meat, they take nothing from you, and you will take nothing from them."
"Foul meat, Lord," the troll whined.
"But food nonetheless. Hunt, if you have no stomach for it."
"The game is gone, Lord."
Bane frowned. "Do as I say."
The troll scuttled away, and the rest retreated. The howlers took food and moved away as they had been instructed, enviously watching the others collect their share. Now that order had been restored, the soldiers brought another load of food and dumped it on the ground to be ripped open and shared out amongst the weaker howlers. They wolfed it down before joining their fellows, undoubtedly because it would have been stolen from them otherwise. A bag of sour green cider apples was greedily snatched up, and several loaves of stale bread were ripped apart eagerly. All the howlers showed signs of starvation, but so did the trolls and goblins. Tallis pitied them, silently praying that the Lady would save them and bring them into the light.
Bane soon grew bored with the proceedings and vanished into the abbey, but, despite his absence, the feeding continued in an orderly manner. When the howlers had consumed the last of the food, they headed for the forest. All that remained of their meagre feast were torn bags and a trampled area. Every trace of flour was gone, along with a good deal of ash.
Fury flashed in the Black Lord's eyes as he frowned down at the crouching earth demon. The news of Bane's easy triumph enraged him, and its manner did not tell him whether or not the Demon Lord was still injured, although his continued existence made Arkonen suspect that he was healed. The wound had certainly looked fatal when Bane had received it. He dismissed the demon and paced around his temple, various ideas presenting themselves, only to be rejected. Sending demons to terrorise and slaughter the populace would have no effect on the Demon Lord, who cared nothing for them. Since threats to the girl would not lure him out, not many options remained. Arkonen could send a mortal assassin to the temple, but he doubted that a mere man would succeed in killing Bane.
The possibility of opening a Gateway and sending an army of his worshippers from the Old Kingdom occurred to him, but if Bane offered them mercy, the Chegdhin would undoubtedly go over to his side too, and there were not many of them left, anyway. If his dark army had only succeeded in snuffing out the Holy Fire, the temple grounds would have ceased to be hallowed and the healers would have been at his demons' mercy. Bane might have been able to protect some of them, but most would have perished, and Bane would have nowhere to hide.
Arkonen walked to the massive doorway and gazed up at the black clouds, above which the sun shone, and, somewhere in its ethers, the Lady's realm hung like a shining jewel. That was his next goal, once the destruction of the Overworld was complete and Bane defeated.
"I will find you, Lady of Light," he promised. "I shall conquer your realm too, and you will bow to me. You will walk in darkness with me, and I shall be your master. You will spend the rest of eternity as my slave. So shall you pay for what you did to me. Bane cannot defeat me. He is but a weak human, not worthy to be your weapon. A foolish choice, Lyriasharin. He will fail."
He paused, as if expecting an answer, then smiled and re-entered the temple.
Mirra lay curled in the corner of the rune room, shivering. Her jaw was clenched to stop her teeth from chattering, and she barely clung to sanity. The horror that crept up her arm tore at it, shredding the serenity she had always possessed. Her peacefulness was being stripped from her, baring the bones of her mind and the inner fears she had not known resided there, hidden under a thick blanket of faith.
Nothing seemed certain anymore. The doubts that had plagued her when Bane had broken the seventh ward seemed trivial now. Did the Lady truly love her? Would the Goddess let her perish in this blighted place, her soul corrupted by the foulness that crept through her blood? Would she be cast down into the Underworld to dwell amongst demons, a servant of the Black Lord? The doubts gnawed at her, becoming certainties. Bane was not going to rescue her. He cared nothing for her. Why should he, when she was just an insignificant girl, and he was a god?
Her fingers slid over the cold, hard scales that sheathed her arm to the elbow, an oily sheen on their shiny blackness. Something slowed its progress up her arm to a crawl, and it was not her power, for she had none. All that remained then was her last shred of faith, a thin and weak thing now, yet she sensed that if she gave it up, she would be transformed in the blink of an eye. That in itself was enough to make her cling to it with as much fervour as she could muster, for she did not want to become a monster.
All across the Overworld, the white fire in the chapels grew dimmer, sending alarm into the hearts of the healers who sheltered within the Lady's power. They knelt in fervent prayer day and night, desperate to strengthen the Goddess with their faith, yet still the eternal flames shrank.
Ellese watched the flame in the temple with deep concern as she knelt with her sisters in endless prayer, their soft chanting echoing around the ravaged chapel. The chanting was a ritual liturgy, a repetition of love and faith for the Lady, designed to strengthen her. It ended, and the healers sat back on their haunches for a brief rest of silence.
Ellese jumped at a gentle touch on her arm, and turned to find Tallis beside her.
"Why do the flames shrink, Mother?" Fear shone in her eyes. "Is the Lady dying with her world?"
"No." Ellese patted the girl's hand. "Never believe that. I believe that the Lady is embroiled in a struggle of her own, and it drains her. She will not abandon us."
> "What does she struggle for? Bane's soul?"
"No. That can only be given to the light, not taken by it. I think it is another soul that she fights for. A precious one." Ellese paused, blinking. "It is Mirra's."
Tallis gasped, and her eyes sparkled with tears. "Goddess!"
"Pray, child, as you have never done before. Give her the strength she needs."
Tallis bowed her head, and the chant began again.
Bane stood just beyond the temple walls and gazed at the thick, swirling clouds that blocked sun. Above them, the Lady strived to thin their impenetrable shroud, but the Black Lord held them in place. He was winning, for no shred of green lingered in the blackened land. The trees bore only withered brown leaves and a blanket of ash hid the grass. The plants' demise was not merely due to the lack of rain and sun. It had only been just over a month since the Black Lord's ascension. The dark power now rose from the ground in foul waves, killing all vegetation. Around the temple, the white fire within the chapel held it at bay, but the hallowed ground shrank with the flame.
Refugees from nearby towns converged on the Goddess' Temple, bringing with them a few scrawny goats and sheep, which the trolls and goblins eyed hungrily. The glum, hollow-eyed people camped as far away from the dark army as they could, setting up tents or sleeping under their barrows. Their livestock consumed the yellow grass, bawling their misery as they dug in the ash. Soldiers from the abbey wandered amongst them to guard them from the dark army, receiving grateful smiles and an occasional cup of mead from a farmer's cherished flagon in payment.
Bane turned his head, scanning the horizon, then something closer at hand caught his eye. Four trolls crept towards the human camp, their postures furtive. No livestock grazed in their path, but two young children played in the ash only a few yards ahead of them, oblivious to their danger. Bane watched them, wondering if one of the soldiers would spot the trolls before it was too late. The dim twilight hid their hulking forms, however, and only Bane's enhanced vision enabled him to see them clearly.
The foolish children's prospective demise did not bother Bane in the least, even though the healers would not like it, or the people. He did not care about their outrage either, even though this incident would spark others like it as the dark folk grew hungrier. Mirra would not like it, though. The thought of her brought a familiar stab of pain in his chest. Her pleading eyes haunted him, full of tenderness and pain, shared equally between himself and his victims, which had driven him into fits of rage because it affected him so much. She would not want the children to die.
The trolls were less than two yards from their intended victims when Bane Moved. He reappeared almost on top of them, and they recoiled with grunts of terror, falling in the ash. The children screamed and ran, retching at the touch of the power. Their cries brought several people running from the human camp. Bane pointed at the grovelling trolls.
"Look at me."
They twisted their necks and blinked at him, their eyes flinching.
"You touch one human, and you will die. Or even a goat."
"We hunger, Lord," the largest troll whined.
"Then eat each other. I will cook one of you now, so the others may eat. Which of you will it be?" Bane's finger swept over them, and they whimpered.
"No, Lord! We won't touch the humans, we swear it!"
"If you do, I will know," Bane lied. "And I will know who it was, then he will be cooked for the rest."
"Yes, Lord."
"Not even a goat. Now go!"
The trolls galloped away so fast that they raised a cloud of ash in their wake, and their fellows in the dark army muttered. Bane turned, surprised to discover that he had a human audience as well. Six people, two of them soldiers, stood there. A woman clutched the two children. They backed away a few steps when he turned, all save the soldiers, who were a little braver. One bowed awkwardly.
"Our thanks, Demon Lord," he said. "We didn't see them."
"Obviously."
"It won't happen again."
"No, it will not."
One of the villagers stepped forward. "I too, wish to thank you, er... My Lord."
Bane cocked a brow. "That is not necessary."
"Oh, but it is. These are my sons." The man gestured at the thin boys who clutched their mother's skirts.
Bane shrugged. "Keep them close to you."
The man nodded and forced a pathetic smile. Bane started to turn away, and the woman cried, "When will you save us? When will you fight the Black Lord?"
The men gaped at her in horror, and one leapt to clamp a hand over her mouth.
"Be silent woman!" her husband rasped, then glanced fearfully at Bane. "I apologise, My Lord."
"Let her speak," Bane murmured.
The man released her, but she looked too scared to speak now that Bane's attention was focussed upon her. He sighed and gazed at the landscape again, then back at the villagers. The falling ash rimed their hair and soot smudged their faces. Their eyes held a deep despair tinged with faint hope. The sounds from the human camp and the dark army's muttering ceased as all watched the confrontation. Even the beasts were quiet, and, with the absence of birdsong or wind, the terrible hush of a dead land enwrapped the world. Only the healers' faint chanting broke it, rising and falling like a funeral dirge.
Bane looked down at what the children had been playing with. A dead, desiccated white dove, its wings spread in pathetic beauty, the falling ash already covering it once more. Somehow, it reminded him of Mirra, so fragile and vulnerable, killed by the touch of dark power. She was not dead yet, but she would be soon. He raised his gaze to the woman's face again, and glimpsed a glint of green in her eyes, sensing someone else looking out at him through them.
"When?" she whispered into the hush.
"Soon." Bane turned and strode away.
Chapter Eleven
The Final Conflict
The Lady sighed and leant back against the radiant softness that supported her, closing her eyes. Around her, the white power permeated a landscape of pearl and white, trees of gleaming silver and pale cloud, flowers that sparkled like stars. Stones glowed like the embers of a diamond fire. The sky shimmered in an ever-changing medley of rainbow hues. A fraction of this her father had set in the Overworld, to shine briefly in the sun after rain had fallen, a hint of the glory here.
Time was running out, just as her power was pouring forth to keep the temples lighted beneath the evil shroud that covered the land. She could not reach Bane in his dreams. The evil within him blocked that route, so she had tried to reach him through the woman. Casting even an essence of herself into the woman had taken a great deal of power, and she did not know if Bane had even seen it. If not, the effort had been wasted.
Bane doubted his ability to defeat the Black Lord after his first brash, disastrous attempt. Now Arkonen had Mirra, and, with her, the key to Bane's defeat and death. This too, he knew and dreaded. It was all she could do to keep Mirra's slight hold on her faith intact, and she channelled the healers' prayers to aid her. Healing Bane had cost her dearly, and her realm had shrunk appreciably in the wake of the double effort.
If he did not act soon, the battle for the Overworld would be lost, and Arkonen would gain entry into her realm. One Gate remained: a relic of the Overworld's creation, accessible only from that realm. The key to that Gate was in Arkonen's hands. Only the soul of a healer could open the great World Gate between the Overworld and Eternity, and only one who had fallen to the darkness. She raised a milk-pale hand and touched the faint marks that were starting to appear on her other arm, flickers of white power sparkling at her fingertips.
"Hurry, Bane."
"Tomorrow." Bane turned to face Ellese. "Tomorrow I will defeat Arkonen, or die trying."
They stood on one of the abbey's balconies that overlooked the ravaged land and the huddled masses of human misery that sheltered there from the evil beyond the hallowed ground. Although the growing sickness of the people within the abbey was grave, it
paled in comparison to the suffering of those who remained on land now so steeped in evil that it had begun to stink of sulphur.
"You are sure you are strong enough?"
"It does not matter. Your Lady's power is dwindling. If I do not face him tomorrow, it will be too late."
Ellese nodded. "She fights for Mirra's soul."
He swung away, gazing out across the sombre landscape again. Ellese looked down at her clasped hands.
"Fifteen demons were amongst the people when they came here. They turned aside at the edge of the hallowed ground. So many amongst so few."
"When your white fire dies, they will rise and destroy you."
"I know. It was a good thing you did, saving those children."
He shrugged. "It was nothing."
"It was a great deal, to them."
"A pity no one saved me."
"Yes. I wanted to, so much. But I do not have the power to go below, no one does."
"Why did you watch me?"
She shook her head. "I do not know. Concern. Pity."
"Curiosity?"
"Perhaps a little. I wanted to know you, so I could be your friend, understand you."
"And do you?"
"A little, I think."
Bane turned to face her again, leaning against the railing. "If I had met you when I emerged from the Underworld, I would have killed you."
Dark God Page 20
