A hint of displeasure shadowed her face. "Be careful what you say, Demon Lord. Remember that I gave her back to you, and why. Had you not admitted your feelings for her, I would have taken her from you again, once you had completed your task. Had she not loved you just as much, I would also have taken her soul back at that time. You and she are soul mates, from another time, long ago, when you shared a love that has outlived death itself.
"I sent her back to turn you from your purpose. From the first moment you saw her, you could not have killed her. Only the evil within you made you so cruel to her. You are fortunate, for it is rare that two souls who have loved and died, then been reborn, find each other again."
Bane bowed his head, glossy hair sliding forward to hide his face. "I did not know."
"Of course not, but be assured, she is waiting for you to speak the words she longs to hear. Her heart aches for them."
"And yet it will be difficult. Even though she has forgiven me, I cannot forgive myself. Every time I look at her, I remember what I did to her. It haunts me."
Her eyes filled with sadness. "I understand, but if you abandon her, you will hurt her far more than you ever did when you tortured her."
"She would forget me in time, and that will spare both of us from suffering. I will outlive her by centuries, and her loss will bring me pain."
"She will never forget you, nor you her. All you will do is deny yourself many decades of happiness together. Life is full of pain, but joy too, unless you deny yourself the joy, in which case you will have only pain. I had centuries of happiness with Arkonen, and I treasure those memories still. Take the happiness, Bane, you deserve it, and so does she. You can make her very happy."
"I do not know how. All I know about people is how to kill or torture them."
She smiled. "Just be yourself. The rest, you will learn. Allow her to guide you. She is wise beyond her years. I gifted her with that myself, on the day she came into this world."
He raised his head and looked at her. "I will consider it."
"Good." The Goddess rose to her feet. "Now, we still have work to do." She glanced up at the sun. "Six more wards to restore."
The Demon Lord stood, and she clasped her hands.
They stood at the edge of the ravine, the thunder and mist of the falls engulfing them. The Lady seemed to revel in the settling vapour, raising her translucent face to its cool caress. Bane moved away with a shudder, disliking the dampness. She laughed at him.
"It is the dark power in you. If you choose to relinquish it, neither wetness nor light will discomfit you again."
Bane gazed at the shimmering rainbow. "Who created this ward?"
"Valdar, Master of Illusion. He thought to distract you into trying to destroy an illusion."
"He succeeded."
"No, he failed. As they all did." She turned to him, her eyes glowing like emeralds. "Had he succeeded, you would have perished trying to destroy a mirage."
"Mirra showed me the real one."
"Yes. Mirra and the mages were at cross-purposes. When I instructed the mages, I thought it would be enough. By the time I saw that it would not, they were dead, and the wards set. All except Tellgar, a stubborn old man, and Ronar, who has since died. Mirra was sent to save you, so she had to keep you alive. She knew nothing of this. It was her love for you that made her do it.
"It took Valdar three days to create this ward, and another three to set the trap. It took all his power to create an illusion that would last for all time, and bind it to a rainbow, which is without doubt the most elusive thing in the world, since it is a fragment of Eternity. It would have been easier to make an illusory rainbow, but he did not. The rainbow is real, and therein lies the true wonder of this illusion. In the end, the strain was too much for his heart."
Bane gazed at the illusory ward that hung in the rainbow's vivid stripes. The Lady stepped away from the edge, watching him. He glared at the thundering water, then unclipped his cloak and let it fall. Unleashing the dark fire, he stepped over the edge and floated down into the depths on a column of flame. The power thrummed through him, rushing out to sustain his flight.
Deep in the sparkling depths, he found the broken stone within the cascade where the solid ward had been, and sent it back into its place with a gesture. Then he described a dark pentagram and flicked it into the water that streamed over the ward in a pellucid curtain. When he returned to the top of the chasm, soaked and uncomfortable in clinging clothes, a black ward nestled in the falling water like an uncast shadow. He clipped his cloak on, and the Goddess folded her hands.
They stood upon the bleached bones before the tumbled rocks that marked the dragon's cave. The stench of the rotting corpses of the men and beasts that had died further down the chasm wafted to them on a warm breeze. Bane looked at the Lady, who seemed oblivious to the fetor.
She gazed at the rocks. "Drakanor, Master of Dragons. A clever man, though overly fond of his pets. It says much for his dedication that he endangered his favourite dragon by creating the ward in her cave. I am glad Estbatish was not killed."
"The dragon?"
"Yes. Mirra urged her to flee, and in the end she listened."
"Will she return?"
The Lady shrugged. "Perhaps. Dragons are strange beasts, and she has lived here for centuries."
"How did he die?"
"Drakanor met an unfortunate end, for he was not well suited to creating wards. His power was over dragons. Estbatish did not like the ward in her cave, and when he returned to set the trap within it, he was so engrossed in his task that he lost control of her."
The goddess walked away and settled under a tree. Bane made a series of graceful gestures, frowning in concentration as he instructed the magic to reform the stone to its original formation. With much grating and grinding, massive rocks rose from their crushing grave to form the cavern's roof, sliding back into their former positions. Again, it was as if time ran backwards as the cave took shape, and when the last pebble had scurried back into its niche, he entered and restored the ward within.
When he returned, the Lady stood and clasped her hands.
They stood before the shattered stone circle, the pale rocks partially buried in the dried grey sludge that encrusted everything, brown grass poking through it in places. Bane surveyed the destruction, remembering the terrible explosion and the injuries he had sustained. The sound of voices made him glance around. A group of people relaxed in the garden outside the tunnel that led to Torlock Keep. Men sat with their wives on the dried ash while their children played in it, scraping holes and building castles, shrieking with glee.
It surprised him that they appeared to be so content when their world was so dead and ugly. Since they did not react to the sudden appearance of two gods, he assumed that Lyriasharin had cloaked them in invisibility. She could not hide the greenness that spread from her feet, however, and the people soon spied it, crying out in delight at the miracle, some falling to their knees to pray. The goddess gazed at the shattered stones.
"This was created by Mar'kenin, Master of Runes. A wise man, quiet and watchful, a trifle devious too, as you discovered."
"The runes made no sense."
"You could not read them. He was a master, you are little more than a boy, and trained by one who knows even less of runes. Arkonen was not trained in rune magic. He was only an uneducated peasant. Becoming a god through my foolishness did not add to his knowledge, so all he knew of magic, the demons taught him. Demons know rune magic, but they did not teach him more than the basics, I would imagine. The runes were coded. Only Mar'kenin knew how to read them."
"He set a good trap."
"He intended it to kill you."
"I was injured."
The Lady smiled. "A great feat, to even injure the Demon Lord. Being a god, albeit a young and inexperienced one, even then you were far more powerful than any of these mages ever were. Now you are more powerful still."
"I would have limped for the rest of my l
ife, if not for the healers."
"A tribute to his wisdom, if a painful one for you. Mar'kenin was a frail man, sickly since boyhood. A scholar. He became ill while studying to create the trap, and soon after he had inscribed the runes, he succumbed to a lung sickness. He did not seek the aid of a healer. He looked upon this as the pinnacle of his power, the culmination of his life's work." She walked away, turning to watch him restore the fifth ward.
Bane summoned the power from his bones and spread his hands, commanding the shadows that streamed from his palms. Once again there was a rushing together of stone, a grating rumble as the shattered standing stones reformed. In just a few minutes, they stood tall and proud once more. Only the brown grass where they had lain showed that they had ever been broken. The people in the garden gaped at the reformed circle, forgetting the blooming greenness of their vale in their amazement, some walking closer to peer at the stones.
When he had restored the pentagram to the stone, the Lady looked at the descending sun. "We must hurry, I wish to leave before dusk. I do not enjoy your nights."
She folded her hands.
They stood beside the lake on the isle of Lume. The lowering sun burnished the still water with ruddy light, turning it fiery gold. The crater loomed over them in a jagged barrier, forbidding view of the sea beyond. The cottage huddled on the black beach, looking forlorn, as if it missed its owner. Bane grimaced, barely dry from his last wetting, and the Lady smiled at his pained expression.
"Tellgar created this one. A wonderful old man, Master of Links. Renowned for fence sitting. He never took sides, always awaited the outcome. So he fought you, as he promised he would, to make you use your power and hasten your death, but at the same time he tried to warn you, to make you trust Mirra and aid her in her task. He even appeared to her in a mirror in his house to reassure her of your inability to kill her, thinking to give her courage."
"She did not tell me."
"She was wise not to. Your arrogance, at that time, would probably have made you try to prove him wrong."
Bane nodded, frowning at the memories. Then, mindful of the Lady's haste, he stripped off his cloak and shirt. The goddess gazed at him with admiring eyes, and he looked away, embarrassed.
Her delighted laugh rang with bell-like purity. "Ah, My Lord, do not be disconcerted. You will have to get used to the admiration of women. You will receive a lot of it. If not for your lovely mortal healer, I would be tempted to try to entice you myself."
He shot her a shocked glance, and she sobered. "Does that seem so odd, My Lord? In you, I would have a true equal, as I did not in Arkonen. Although you are still mortal, you possess almost all of the characteristics of a god now, and, in time, you will gain the rest."
He opened his mouth to ask a question, but she held up a hand, indicating the sinking sun with a flick of her eyes. "Hurry."
Bane turned and waded into the lake, shattering the reflected sunset. In the cold depths, he recreated the solid ward, setting the shadowy pentagram above it, but forgoing the complex magic necessary for a link, since it was strong enough by itself. When he emerged, the sky had turned from gold to red and, as soon as he dressed, the goddess clasped her hands again.
The cold mountain wind cut through his wet trousers, chilling him. The cave gaped in the rock, rotted timbers and the scattered remnants of pots and tools testifying to the fact that it had once been someone's home.
The Lady said, "Ronar, not a master, but a dear hermit. A shy and silent recluse. A powerful mage, but a jack of all trades, as was his wont. He survived his ward and lived for another two hundred years, guarding it, but knowing that he would not live to meet you."
"It was easily broken. A simple trap."
"He was a simple man, and a bit of a sceptic. He felt that he had done enough."
Bane entered the cave, taking only a few minutes to restore the ward. The sky's red hue deepened and dimmed as the sun sank behind the mountains, casting long shadows that stretched dark fingers down from the peaks. As soon as he came out, the Lady folded her hands.
They stood in the church's wood-panelled room. Muffled chanting came from the worshippers in the chapel. Bane stared down at the shattered mosaic, remembering this, the first ward. Mirra huddled against the wall, his army slaughtering the townsfolk, their screams echoing through the streets. At least people had returned to the town, or perhaps some had survived his invasion, hidden in cellars and lofts.
The Lady stood close by in the cramped room, the faint scent of flowers clinging to her. "This was Trasson's ward. He was not a master, but a religious man, and conceited. He was the least of the mages, which was why I gave him the first ward, the last to be created. He did not expend much power in its creation, but his arrogance in not explaining to the people why he marched into their church and described an arcane and evil symbol on their floor enraged them, and they stoned him to death when he was finished. They could not be rid of the ward, so they sealed it off in this room, and have always believed it to be evil."
"I am surprised they did not tear down the church."
"This is not a rich town. They could not afford such an expensive gesture. It would not have done them much good, since the ward was indestructible until you came along. Unfortunately, there were only five master magicians in the world at that time, so two of the wards were set by lesser mages, hardly a challenge for you. I am sure you noticed that there was no trap in this ward, which is because Trasson did not survive its creation.
"By setting it in a church, he hoped to protect himself from the demon hounds that were sent to stop the mages. Even with six in place, they still rose. It did not work, since there is no white fire here, and, therefore, no hallowed ground. But the priests were forced to banish the Hounds that came to the church, thereby protecting him. Many perished, which added to the town's ire, since they blamed Trasson, quite rightly, for luring the demon hounds here. Despite its weakness, it was this, Trasson's ward, that finally bound the demon beasts below."
Bane released a trickle of power from his fingers, causing the smashed tiles to scuttle back to their places and weld themselves together again. Then he drew a black pentagram in the air above the solid ward.
The Lady regarded him with soft eyes the colour of sun-gilded spring shoots. "And now, My Lord, I would like you to accompany me to Eternity, to rest, and so we may talk some more. I also have a gift for you."
He raised his brows. "I had not thought it possible for me to enter your realm."
"All things are possible for you now, although without my invitation, you would be forced to enter it through the World Gate, and you know what that would entail."
"I would not attempt it."
"I know. That is because you are a dark god with a good heart, something I have never heard of before. Light gods tend to guard their realms jealously, since they are hard to create and offer us safety from those who would harm us. But I trust you, and, after you have travelled there with me, you will be able to do so at will."
Bane inclined his head, and she clasped her hands. They reappeared in a garden of glowing whiteness. Its brilliance hurt his eyes, forcing him to squint until the discomfort eased. A path wound between banks of cloud-like formations covered with twinkling stars. Tree-like growths with silvery trunks spread filigree branches covered with misty leaves that shimmered and waved in a cool breeze. The mother-of-pearl sky shone with ever-changing rainbow hues, and tiny winged wraiths flitted across it. He looked down at the blue flames that licked at his feet, finding that a nimbus of blue fire also edged his invisible aura of dark power.
The Lady led him along the path, the land vanishing into misty whiteness all around them. They came to a delicately carved gazebo made from ivory or alabaster, in which a cloud-like couch floated. Lyriasharin settled upon it and waved her hand, causing another to appear beside her, which she indicated with a smile.
"Sit, let us talk."
Bane lowered himself onto the fluffy couch, which looked too flimsy to s
upport him. Lyriasharin gestured, and two golden goblets appeared in her hands, filled with pearly fluid. She offered him one, and he sipped the drink, which had a fascinating taste that changed each time he drank it.
The Lady smiled at his rapt expression. "This is ambrosia, the food of the gods. You will be able to create your own soon. Although you were born a god, attaining your power has taken your entire life, and you are still not full-fledged.
"Being a god is relatively easy, unless we are threatened by our own kind, our opposite, of course. I have the power of life and creation, and the ability to sustain three realms. I am unable to destroy or kill innocents, however. That is the power of a dark god, such as you. Dark gods sometimes enslave my kind and steal their domains, since they cannot create their own. But light gods are not easily enslaved.
"Sometimes we find a mate and conceive offspring, but this is rare. Usually we are solitary creatures who surround ourselves with our creations, or, in the case of dark gods, elementals and the corrupted children of light gods."
Bane gazed down at the pearly liquid in the golden cup. "How can a union between a god and a mortal work?"
"There is nothing to prevent it, save for the differences between them, but offspring cannot be conceived unless the god is mortal, as you are, or the mortal is raised to godhood, as Arkonen was. If you choose to be with Mirra, and keep the dark power, your children will be demigods, with some of your powers. If you relinquish the dark power, they will be extraordinary mortals."
"What else do I need to know about being a god?"
She smiled and sipped her ambrosia. "Not much. You have almost reached the stage where you will start to hear prayers, which can be distracting."
"I doubt anyone will pray to me."
"You will be surprised. Black mages will pray to you for power. The people of the Old Kingdom will worship you and praise your name. Others may call upon you when they wish to curse their enemies or ask for your aid in their petty wars."
Dark God Page 31
