He sat up and fastened his shirt, straightening his cloak. "Time to close the Source."
"And then you will help those poor people?"
"Yes."
Mirra stood up as he rose and walked down the steps. At the bottom he stopped and turned to face the temple. He raised his hands, and she braced herself for the wave of dark power. Instead, four runes brightened under his shirt, shining through it, and his hands weaved in graceful patterns. Their fluid movements fascinated her. His fingers traced the strange, arcane designs with apparent ease, although a glance at his face showed that he was concentrating hard.
A slight shiver went through the ground, and she realised that the power he wielded now affected the world below, commanding it as only a god could. She almost jumped out of her skin when he made a sudden, vicious downward motion and shouted, "Bre'nyth argarath!"
A deep, grating rumble shuddered the earth, like stones being dragged against each other as a mighty rock portal swung closed. The grating subsided, and a hollow boom echoed through caverns deep underground. The ruddy light within the temple faded as the Source closed, cutting off the stream of dark power and foul smoke that poured from it.
Bane let his hands fall to his sides and flexed his fingers. Glancing up at the dark, lightning-shot sky, he raised a hand and described seven dark runes in the air, speaking their names. Shadows fell from the sky, drifting down like tendrils of smoke, brushing Mirra's skin with nauseating chill that made her shiver. She sat down on the steps and watched him, marvelling at the power he wielded.
So much power in the hands of one so young should have spelt disaster, she mused, yet years of training and hardship had tempered him, giving him maturity beyond his years. He had changed a lot since their first encounter, yet he was the same. The anger and hatred in his eyes was mixed now with a hint of confusion and uncertainty, and the perpetual sneer no longer twisted his lips. An occasional flash of scorn still marred his expression, but his eyes warmed now when he looked at her, something he tried unsuccessfully to hide. If only he would give up the dark power, its influence would end and his true nature would be revealed again.
The Demon Lord described the runes seven times, each incantation of their names speeding the shadow fall, and by the seventh the dark power had fallen and vanished into the earth. Then he raised his hands and commanded the clouds, causing them to drift apart, thinning and becoming grey. The forests were not visible from where she sat, but she knew they would be shrivelled and dead, killed by the evil that had invaded them.
Bane turned to her. "Come."
Mirra followed him back to the steps of the old temple, and he climbed halfway up them, then turned to face the city.
"Come forth!" He raised his hands and spread them. "I am the Demon Lord, and I command you to come forth. I offer you mercy. Bring me those whom the Black Lord changed, and I will undo what was done to them."
"You know," she murmured, "a name like yours is not likely to inspire a great deal of confidence in your ability to dispense mercy."
"If they do not show themselves, they can stay as they are."
"You promised."
He shot her an exasperated look. "What would you have me do? Claim to be the angel of mercy?"
"I doubt they would believe it."
Bane sighed and sank down on the steps, looking tired, and Mirra sat beside him. His cloak spread around him like a pool of black-edged blood, and the slight breeze that sprang up lifted the hair from his brow. A soft rumble of thunder made him glance up.
"They had better hurry. I have no wish to get wet."
Half an hour passed before Mirra spied a movement amongst the buildings, and a soft scuffling of claws broke the silence, making her hair bristle. One of the many-legged monsters emerged from behind a wall with an awkward shuffling gait, its many arms and heads moving in weird, sickening motions.
Bane frowned at it, and Mirra raised a hand to her mouth as her stomach clenched. It whimpered and moaned with many voices, sobbing as it crawled closer. Its terror reached her in a foetid stench, rank with obscenity and decay, as if parts of it were dying while the rest lived. Bane watched it approach, apparently unmoved by its plight. The creature reached the bottom of the steps and flopped down as if exhausted, raising many clawed, misshapen hands in a variety of pleading gestures.
"Mercy, Demon Lord."
Bane rose and walked down the steps. After a moment's hesitation, Mirra followed. The creature whimpered and sobbed, some of its legs moving in a futile bid to retreat, but it remained, the bulk of those comprising it too weak or desperate to flee. Bane stopped beside it and studied it, his expression one of intense disgust. He held out his hand.
"Take my hand."
"Mercy, Lord," the creature begged.
A clawed, scaly appendage crept out to touch his hand, and four of the runes lighted as he started to Gather. The dark power flowed into him, and he dispersed it as cold shadows that sank into the earth. The Black Lord's transformation reversed. Spines and scales shimmered and shrank back into the bulky body, the twined, twisted forms untangling. With surprising speed, the black scales, hair and spines vanished, and the naked bodies returned to their original shapes.
As the binding power dissipated, the monster fell apart and released a dozen people, four of them dead. The rest crawled away from each other as if afraid they would be drawn together again in the foul embrace that had held them for so long. Some paused to gaze in wonder at their restored limbs and wail with joy. The young woman whose hand Bane held fell at his feet and tried to embrace his legs in a frenzy of gratitude, but he stepped back, avoiding her.
"Thank you Lord, thank you!" she cried, and some of the others joined in, prostrating themselves.
Bane waved a hand at them. "Go away."
They scattered, and another monster shuffled from the shelter of a building, moving towards him as rapidly as it could. Now that his intentions were clear, dozens of the afflicted creatures emerged from their hiding places to crawl forward and receive his mercy. Individuals came too, their bodies contorted and transformed like Mirra's arm had been. Bane cast an impatient look at her, but she was gazing wide-eyed at the growing throng.
"So many. I only saw him create a few of these."
"Clearly he spent time entertaining himself when you were not around."
"Yes." Her voice was faint. She wanted to run from the horrors that gathered at the bottom of the steps.
Bane held out his hand, and the first creature to reach him grasped it. As he drew the dark power from the monstrosity, it shrank back into another dozen people and fell apart, releasing nine people and three dead bodies. They knelt before him in worship, then retreated as the next creature approached.
Bane restored them one after the other, the pile of half-rotted corpses growing. He shot Mirra an occasional resentful look, clearly disliking the chore and blaming her for inflicting it upon him. As he worked, the throng of restored people grew, and a few red-robed priests appeared to watch the proceedings.
At midday, Bane retreated up the steps and sank down, leaving the next monster to whimper and whine. He looked exhausted, and beckoned to the priests who waited nearby. Two dashed forward to prostrate themselves before him, and he told them to bring food and wine. One ran off to obey; the other remained on his knees, his forehead pressed to the ground. Bane ordered him to clear away the pile of corpses, and the priest gestured to his fellows, who in turn ordered the people to do it, and they came forward to drag the cadavers away. Mirra moved closer to Bane, and he shot her a quizzical glance.
"What do you think of what the Black Lord did to these people?" she enquired.
He eyed her. "A waste of time and power, but evidently he found it amusing."
"It does not horrify or disgust you?"
"Their stench disgusts me."
"What about their suffering?"
"I have seen far worse in the Underworld."
She hesitated, disappointed by his replies and afrai
d to probe deeper. "Would you do this, for sport?"
"No."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "I would not find it amusing."
Their meal arrived, an assortment of cheese, nuts, dried meat and bread. Bane ate well, but Mirra could only manage a little, for the stench of rot permeated the food as well. The priests brought finger bowls and cloths, and filled Bane's golden cup with rich, blood- red wine. When he finished his meal he returned to his chore, and Mirra settled down to wait.
By late afternoon, the last monstrosity was transformed, and the crowd of released people, now joined by the rest of the city's citizens, began a hissing chant of gratitude and worship. A group of priests came forward leading a naked, blank-eyed girl, and bowed.
"A sacrifice for you, Demon Lord."
"No." Bane shook his head. "No more sacrifices. No more bloodshed."
The priests looked shocked and puzzled. "But the Black Lord..."
"I have cast the Black Lord down and sent him to the Land of the Dead. Stop worshipping him. He is a false god."
"Then you are the true god, Demon Lord."
"No. I want no worshippers."
"But -"
"Do as I say," Bane ordered, and the priests cowered. They retreated, dragging the girl, and the crowd muttered in confusion.
A man shouted, "Then who shall we worship, Lord?"
"I do not care," Bane said.
Mirra stood up, remembering her duty. "Worship the Lady. She will redeem you."
A short, pregnant silence fell, during which Bane shot her an amused glance, then an angry muttering came from the crowd. A stone sailed from its depths, aimed at Mirra. Bane raised a hand, and the rock exploded in mid-air, turned to dust. He strode towards the crowd, which fled with shrieks of terror. Mirra ran after him.
"No, Bane! Leave them!"
The Demon Lord stopped and turned, his cloak flaring. As she reached him, he held out his hand, and she slipped hers into it, then the world vanished in an instant of freezing blackness. They reappeared in the temple's inner courtyard, and Mirra bent over, clutching her stomach while he supported her. When her sickness passed, she followed him into the temple, where Ellese waited to greet them. Mirra hugged her, but Bane walked away in the direction of his room. Ellese raised an enquiring brow at the young healer, who shrugged and shook her head.
"He seems in a foul temper," Ellese commented.
Mirra nodded, and Ellese put an arm around her shoulders. "Come and tell me all about it."
In Ellese's study, an acolyte brought sweet bread and milk for their refreshment, which Mirra consumed under Elder Mother's indulgent eyes. When Mirra finished her tale, Ellese turned from the window where she had been gazing out at the ruined garden and regarded the girl.
"Do you think you could persuade him to give up the dark power, my dear?"
Mirra shook her head. "No. I will not ask it of him."
"Why not?"
"It is all he has left. Without it he will be defenceless."
Ellese bowed her head. "I know it seems a lot to ask, after all he has done for us. But if he keeps it, he will be an outcast."
"He is a god."
"He will not cease to be a god, my dear. Nothing can change that now."
"But you want him to be a powerless one."
"No, I want him to be a good one."
Mirra frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The dark power will corrupt him. He can use the blue, if he wishes to retain power."
"Is he immortal, Mother?"
"No. He will live a very long time, especially if he keeps the power, more than a thousand years. If he gives it up, he will live only half as long, but he will fly to the Lady when he dies. A better prospect than the Land of the Dead, do you not think?"
Mirra looked puzzled. "But when he dies, will he still be a god?"
Ellese smiled. "My, but you are worried about his godhood, are you not?" She chuckled at Mirra's abashed expression. "Yes, my dear, he will remain a god when he dies."
"What will happen to him then?"
"If he retains the dark power and it corrupts him, he will enter the Land of the Dead as a spirit so powerful that he will gather the power to free himself within a few months. Then Arkonen may choose to destroy him before he can acquire enough power to defend himself, or he may welcome him as an equal, but I doubt that. If he gives up the power, he will ascend to Eternity, where the Lady will greet him as an equal. Once freed of his mortal body, he will become even more powerful, but whether his power will be good or evil depends on what he chooses now."
"But it is his choice."
Ellese sighed. "I would like it to be, but I fear that external influences will force him to make the wrong one."
Mirra shook her head. "I think he will make the right one in the end, even if it takes him a little while to reach it."
"I pray you are right, child."
"I also think the Lady will be the one to persuade him, not me."
"Perhaps. She certainly will not want him in league with Arkonen, given his powers, although the wards will imprison him below too, once he has descended there as a spirit."
"But if he retains them while he lives, he will be the Overworld's protector."
Ellese looked grave. "If he becomes corrupted, he will be the Overworld's destroyer, and the Lady will not be able to stop him."
"Then she will ensure that he is not corrupted."
Three days later, Mirra persuaded Bane to walk with her in the pale morning sunshine, and they strolled away from the abbey across fields of dried mud. As yet no green had returned to the land, save for the tree Mirra had healed. The thick layer of dry sludge bound the grass beneath it, denying it light and air and poisoning the soil. Hunger stalked the surviving villages like a ravening wolf, and many people abandoned their farms to travel to the coast, where food could be found in the sea. Livestock survived on the stores of hay that farmers had put away for winter, but that would soon run out.
Mirra walked beside the Demon Lord in companionable silence, and he made no effort to break it. He had been even more subdued since their return from the Old Kingdom, and she had yet to understand why. There was no hostility in his grim mood, only a deep brooding, as if he pondered the world's problems, and perhaps he did. Nevertheless, a gulf yawned between them, which only Bane's occasional warm look or Mirra's timid caress crossed. Although he did not object to her gestures of affection, they seemed to confuse him, as if he could not understand why she wished to hold his hand on occasion, or even spend time with him. He generally granted her wishes, like walking in the sunlight, which he disliked.
Mirra skipped closer to him and slipped her hand into his, making him glance at her and smile. She grinned, happy in his company despite the drab surroundings and looming disaster that stalked the land. When she was with him such worries seemed insignificant. They stopped on the crest of a hill and looked out over a black, bare forest, the air heavy with silence. It seemed brighter than usual this morning, as if a celestial force was at work in the land.
Bane sensed a benign, rich power seeping under his feet, and frowned.
A soft, musical voice spoke behind him. "Are you not forgetting something, My Lord?"
Bane spun around in surprise. A moment ago they had been alone, and he had sensed no one approaching. He faced the Lady's shimmering, pearly form. Sunlight gilded her, permeating her brown hair with myriad warm colours, and golden sparkles danced in her green eyes. A pale glow suffused her, belying her ghostly translucence. Her pure white gown swept the ground, patterned with a delicate filigree of gold and silver and shot with rainbow hues. Golden sandals shod her feet, and where she stood, grass sprouted lushly and the soil burgeoned with deep brown fecundity. Mirra gasped and sank to her knees. He looked down at her in confusion, then raised his eyes to meet the Lady's.
"Get up, Mirra," the Goddess said.
Mirra rose and took Bane's hand, clinging to it, her eyes wide and awe-stricken. Lyriasharin w
alked closer, stopped within arm's reach and raised a pale hand to touch Mirra's brow.
"Peace, my special child."
Mirra relaxed, her awe washed away, apparently, by the love and compassion that flowed from Lyriasharin's fingers.
The Lady turned to Bane. "So, we meet again, Demon Lord. You have kept your side of the bargain, and that is good. For aeons I have been alone, with Arkonen as my enemy, and it is good to have another equal. Even though you are a dark god, you are not my enemy."
"No," Bane agreed. "I am not."
"I regret the pain I caused you when I gave you the power to cast Arkonen down. It was necessary."
"I understand. I am no stranger to pain."
"I know. We are allies, you and I. If not for you, the Black Lord would now own my domain. You are still too young to have defeated him alone, but, in time, you will grow more powerful."
"And I am grateful for your help."
The Lady glanced at Mirra. "Of course. It was worth it, even though it cost me dearly. We have both suffered for the other's sake, and it is well, for neither can claim to have been ill-used. Grudges between gods are ill things. You have much to learn, but already the most valuable lessons have been taught."
He inclined his head. "Yes."
"Now you have a task to complete."
"The wards."
"Yes. You must restore them to complete our bargain. But you must use the dark power, far stronger than the blue, and create wards that not even the Black Lord himself could break, and certainly not his proxy. In his foolishness, he has given me the means to seal him below forever, and, with Mirra's help, you have turned to me. I do not presume to command you. It is something you know must be done."
Bane nodded, glancing at Mirra, who gazed at the Lady with a rapturous expression. The Goddess turned to the girl and took her hands, a sweet smile curling her lips.
"And you, Mirra, how well you accomplished your task, saving Bane. You suffered greatly to do this, and I am grateful to you. Whenever you should need my help or guidance, just ask, and it will be yours."
Mirra's eyes sparkled, and she curtsied. "Thank you, Lady."
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