"I see."
She tilted her head. "You seem displeased."
"It sounds tedious."
"You do not have to answer their prayers. Generally, dark gods do not, except when they wish to entertain themselves by getting involved in a war."
Bane gazed at her. "Why is Mirra only a mortal? Would it not have been better for her to be a goddess?"
"No. Had she been born a mortal goddess, you would have seen her as a threat, and driven her away, since you could not kill her. If I had been able to make her a true goddess, you would have fought with her, and either enslaved her or driven her away."
"You cannot make her a goddess?"
She shook her head. "I am a relatively weak goddess, My Lord. I gave half my power to raise up Arkonen, then forfeited it when I cast him down the first time. Even before that, I was not powerful. My father is a powerful god, but the only way I can create a true god now is to give birth to him."
"Could I make her a goddess?"
She looked away, her expression pained. "Yes, My Lord. You could make her a dark goddess, steeped in evil, her soul corrupted by it. Her mortal body would wither and die, and she would become like Arkonen, with a droge body or a dark form."
"Why could she not keep her mortal body?"
"Because she was not born a goddess. Her body cannot adjust to the changes now. I am surprised that you would even consider it."
He shrugged. "I am just curious. Can a god change their power? Can a dark god become light?"
"No." Lyriasharin smiled. "A nice thought, though. The best you can do is cast aside the evil and become neutral. You will lose much of your power, but not all. You will be able to use the blue fire, and you can take up the dark power again at any time."
He considered. "Earlier you said that the dark power loathes ugliness, yet Arkonen used it to create monsters."
"Yes, the dark power can be used to create ugliness, since it obeys its master and the ugliness is his creation, but it enhances its user."
Silence fell while Bane digested this, sipping the ambrosia that still filled his cup to the brim.
Lyriasharin studied him, finding the presence of this powerful young dark god in her realm exciting and alarming. Kayos would not have approved of bringing him here, and, by doing so, giving him an open invitation to return, which was dangerous. If he chose to keep the dark power and became corrupted, he could now invade her realm easily, but then, she reflected, if he did turn to the darkness, he would have little trouble opening the World Gate.
On the other hand, he was a powerful ally, and, should a time come when a dark god threatened her domain from the God Realm beyond, he would be able to help her. Far better to befriend him now, while he was young and impressionable. The temptation to seduce him remained strong, for he would make an excellent partner, despite his youth. In her realm's brilliance his skin glowed, his eyes blazed, and his hair shimmered with a blue patina. Regrettably, his love for the mortal girl was too strong, and any attempt on her part to entice him would be futile.
Putting aside her cup, she stood. "Come, My Lord, let me show you the city of Eternity, where the blessed dead dwell."
Bane looked surprised, but rose and followed her along a path to a place where the land dropped away in a high cliff. Far below, a vast city nestled in the radiant clouds, the distant streets lined with shining trees and sparkling flowers. The graceful buildings flowed upwards in shimmering mother-of-pearl towers and diamond minarets, a delicate filigree of pathways connecting them. Ghostly figures wandered the streets, some gathering to talk or walk together.
"What do they do?" Bane asked.
"Much the same as they did when they were alive, except they have no need to work. They do not hunger or thirst, and they lack the urge to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, since they have none. Most ponder their former lives and prepare for their next one."
"Do you walk amongst them?"
"Sometimes. Mostly I watch the Overworld. It is more interesting."
Bane gazed at the city for some time, then they returned to the gazebo. When he had settled upon the couch, she sat opposite and held out her hands.
"It is time I gave you your gift, My Lord. A small thing, but the only thing that is within my power. Give me your hands."
Bane hesitated, then placed his hands in hers, and she studied the illusion that hid the scars. "Remove this, and withdraw your shields."
The illusion vanished, revealing his mutilated fingers, and she grasped them. A flash of white light engulfed his hands, and a strange, sharp sensation accompanied it. He flinched, closing his eyes as he snatched his hands away. Black spots danced in his eyes when he opened them again, and he squinted. The Lady settled back on her couch with a smile. Bane studied his hands, finding the scars gone and the missing flesh restored.
"Thank you."
"There may come a time when I will ask for your help, My Lord. I hope I can count on it?"
He inclined his head, his eyes narrowing. "If it is within my power."
"There is little that is not within your power now."
The Goddess picked up her ambrosia, and Bane relaxed on his couch. The conversation turned to other matters, and continued for many hours. The passing of time went unmarked in Eternity, where there was no night, and, with ambrosia to sip, no hunger or thirst. Bane soon grew to understand how gods could while away aeons without noticing their passing. Time was meaningless to them. The brightness gave him a headache, however, and when the Lady asked if he wished to return to the Overworld, he nodded.
Lyriasharin laced her fingers, and they reappeared on a grassy hillside overlooking a red sea. A huge crimson sun sank into the waves as boats sailed in with their haul of fish, their sails pink in the ruddy light. Below them, a town bustled with evening traffic as people hurried home from their work, calling greetings to friends and neighbours. The distant sounds of braying donkeys, barking dogs, shouting people and rattling carts drifted on the breeze. A haze of smoke rose as wives lighted hearth fires and stoves for the evening meal. Candles appeared in windows, throwing soft radiance onto the streets, where occasional lamps formed pools of yellow light.
The Lady turned from her perusal of the peaceful town. "So, a day has passed whilst we talked, and your ordeal is finally over. The world is safe from the Black Lord, Arkonen, trapped forever now in his evil misery, a man of goodness and light who turned to the darkness. Saved by Bane, Demon Lord, a dark god with a good heart, filled with hatred and evil, now returned to the light. How strange life is."
She sighed, staring out across the bloody sea again. "And, of course, gentle Mirra, an innocent thrown to two dark gods who fought over her, one trying to kill her, the other to torture her, when all she wanted was to help. My special child, who brought redemption to the blackest of innocent souls, and helped cast down the greatest evil in the land, all unknowing."
The Goddess turned to him and smiled, raising a hand to caress his cheek, blue fire riming her fingertips where they brushed his skin. "She saw an angel in you. A fallen angel, twisted and filled with pain, but the light of your innocence shone in your eyes, the windows to your soul. Those eyes, Bane, told her of a gentle soul steeped in evil, yet untarnished at its core.
"There is work for you still. Two hundred and fifty-three demons have remained in the Overworld, above the wards. For now, they are hidden, but, in time, they will reveal themselves as tormentors and tricksters. They cannot be banished now that the wards are restored, so they must be destroyed. And, of course, there is him."
Lyriasharin's eyes focussed on something behind Bane, and he swung around. The demon steed stood there, its glowing silver eyes fixed upon the Goddess. Its fiery mane and tail leapt and tossed, and it snorted fire, pawing the ground. Bane frowned at it, realising that he had forgotten to banish it before he had set the wards, primarily because the Lady's sudden appearance had distracted him.
"Orriss." She smiled at it. "How long have you been below?" She cocked her he
ad, listening to the demon steed's silent answer, then nodded. "Perhaps your punishment has been enough."
Orriss reared, arching its blazing neck, then dropped to all fours and bowed to her.
The Goddess made simple gesture and said, in a musical tone, "Syr fellya sha."
The demon steed's fire died, and its blazing flanks turned white. Falls of silken hair replaced its fiery mane and tail. It gazed at her with soft brown eyes, then shrank to a point of brilliant white light that shot upwards like a comet, streaking into the darkening sky to vanish amongst the glimmering stars.
The Lady turned to Bane. "I suppose you thought he was an elemental, like the demons. Not so. Orriss was a mortal horse once. But he was ill-treated, and became a rogue. He killed his master and seven other people before they hunted him down and shot him. It is rare that an animal's soul is sent to the Underworld, but he and the other demon steeds are just that, the condemned souls of mortal horses, being punished just as people are. Orriss has been below for eight hundred years. I think his term was up, and he was trapped here, since you forgot to banish him before you restored the wards."
Bane averted his eyes, embarrassed by the oversight, and Lyriasharin's smile widened. "A trifling matter. Now it is time I left. Find your father, he needs your help. Farewell, Demon Lord, until we meet again."
Bane nodded. "Until then, my lady."
The Goddess faded to a shimmer of light, then vanished, and the night closed in as if she had been holding it at bay with her presence. He gazed across the peaceful, sleepy land bathed in the sunset's ruddy embers. Only the barking of a distant dog broke the hush.
With a swirl of crimson-lined black cloak, the Demon Lord turned and stepped into the darkness, to be swallowed up with a last gleam of pale skin. The final dregs of crimson seeped from the sky, letting the stars flood the world with their pure light, draining all colour and leaving only shades of grey.
Chapter Seventeen
Judgment
Mirra laughed as she skipped and twirled around the fire the healers had built in the centre of the inner garden. Grass covered the ground within it and the land around the temple, as far as the eye could see. The forests had sprouted new shoots, and faint birdsong drifted from them during the day. The healers celebrated the Goddess' return with a feast that used up most of their remaining provisions, since the vegetable gardens now grew lushly, promising a bounty of food within the next few days. Baron Martal celebrated with the rest, his florid face wreathed in smiles. His eyes were alight with triumph, as if he had defeated the Black Lord and restored the Overworld himself.
The soldiers danced with acolytes, drunk with joy at the return of life to the land, their stomachs full for the first time in weeks. Mirra and Tallis whipped around the roaring fire, clinging to each other's arms and spinning until they fell down with dizziness. Ellese watched them with a sedate smile, the last dregs of her concern washed away by springtime's return. The Goddess' appearance to one of their own, and her restoration of the land, made the healers jubilant, filled with optimism for the future.
Mirra flopped down on the cool grass, gasping, her cheeks aching from laughing. Tallis sprawled beside her, panting and giggling as the world spun. When it stopped, Mirra sat up and gazed at the celebrants who sat on the grass, eating, singing, or leaning on each other in joyful camaraderie.
She turned to Tallis, her smile fading. "I wonder when Bane is coming back."
Tallis shrugged. "He has only been gone a couple of days, Mir."
"I know, but I miss him. He should be celebrating with us."
"Maybe it is taking a while to restore the wards. Or maybe he is not coming back."
"What do you mean? Of course he is coming back."
Tallis shot her a doubtful glance. "Think about it, Mir. He is a god. Why would he want to be with mortals? Perhaps he has gone to find his own domain."
"No, he would not leave without even saying goodbye." Mirra's heart ached, for Tallis' words made a lot of sense.
"Oh, Mir, I am sorry." Tallis hugged her friend.
"He would not just leave. Ellese says he loves me."
"Did he tell you he did?"
"No." Mirra bowed her head. "But I hoped it was true."
"Even if it was, he is still a god."
"A mortal god."
"Do you think that makes a difference?"
Mirra chewed her lip. "I do not know."
Bane sat on the edge of the lake on the Isle of Lume, idly throwing stones into the still water. The moon's reflection shattered into crescents as the ripples tore it apart, then reformed. His thoughts troubled him, whirling about in a wild jig, then slowing to torpid despair. Where did he belong? What would he do with the rest of his long life? Everyone else had their place in the world, but where was his? He was a god, yet mortal. He could be killed with a knife or sword as easily as any other mortal, yet he had the power to destroy worlds. Now he must give up that power or be corrupted, and become what? A god with limited powers, able to command the earth but not to protect himself if a gang of louts set upon him in a dark alley. He was no longer needed now that the wards were restored, and, considering his past, who would want him?
Lyriasharin had spoken of Mirra's love for him, but could he really make her happy? He found it hard to believe he could do so just by being himself. His bitterness ran deep after a lifetime of being tortured, taunted and goaded by demons and droges, and he knew many of his reactions were wrong.
Could Mirra ever forget what he had done to her, even if she had forgiven him? If he gave up the power, would the demons loose in the Overworld hunt him? If they did, could he defeat them with the blue fire, once he had learnt how to use it? Could he protect Mirra? He threw another stone, watching the moon's reflection shatter again. His upbringing in the Underworld had not prepared him for life amongst his own kind. He understood demons better than people. He knew that he was suspicious and distrustful, as he had been taught to be in the Underworld.
Innocent questions could ignite a strange fury in him, even without the dark power whispering its malevolence in his mind, as if the echoes of its presence lingered. How much of his true self was left, after four years under its influence? How many of his reactions were his own, and how many were remnants of the dark power's evil and his torturous upbringing? Even now, it mocked his wish to remain in the Overworld, waiting like a leashed monster for something to spark his anger and release it from the prison of his will. If he gave it up, would he be able to change? Or would the taint of evil linger in him, and one day hurt the only one who loved him? Could he take that risk?
Tallis brought a plate of food from the feast table and settled on the grass beside Mirra, casting her a worried look. The young healer stared at the ground, plucking blades of grass, her expression forlorn.
"Come on, Mir, have some food, you are way too thin."
"I have always been thin."
"Yes, but..." Tallis sighed. "Look, I think he is pretty amazing too. I mean, a real god, and he was here, in our temple. I helped when he was injured, while you were away. I wanted to hate him at first, but being so close to him was quite an experience. I do not think he even likes me. He told me I snore. But I cannot imagine someone like him loving me; it would be too overwhelming. I mean, if you love him, do you worship him? What does it mean, to love a god? We all love the Lady, but we worship her."
Mirra raised her head. "But I do not think of him as a god, Tal. To me, he is just Bane. I loved him from the moment I met him, although I did not realise it at first."
Tallis spooned mashed potato into her mouth. "Well, if he is a god, surely he can hear prayers?"
"What if he can?"
"Well, if you are so worried about him, why not pray to him and see if he can hear it?"
Mirra stared at her friend. "We are only allowed to pray to the Lady."
"Who says? We only pray to her because there is no one else to pray to, apart from the Black Lord, and he is evil. Mind you, the Demon Lord kind
of fits into that category too."
Mirra ignored the jibe. "I would not know how."
"The same as you would pray to the Lady, of course. Do not look at it as a prayer if it bothers you, just call him."
Mirra watched the cavorting dancers, lost in thought. "He may be busy."
"He does not have to drop everything and rush here, does he? He will come when he can, if he will." Tallis frowned. "A moment ago you were almost in tears, wanting him here. Now you do not want to bother him?"
Mirra smiled. "It is just that the thought of praying to him seems really strange."
"Well, you had better get used to the idea that he is a god, if you plan to spend a lot of time with him. I mean, if one day he strays with some barmaid, you can jerk him back with a prayer like, 'get back here you naughty bugger!'"
Mirra gasped and giggled. "Tal! That is terrible. He would never do that."
"You had better hope not, because the way he looks, girls will queue up to worship him."
"Goddess! I hope not."
"Mir, the man is a dream come true. Or he would be, if he did not have that horrible power."
"I hope he will give it up."
Tallis nodded, spooning her food. "So do I. Without it at least you could touch him without feeling sick."
"You can, when he lets you."
Tallis scraped her plate clean and put it aside. "Come on then. Call him. Let us see what happens."
Mirra hesitated, then folded her hands and whispered, "Bane, come back to me, please."
Tallis burst into giggles, and Mirra smacked her playfully.
"Do you know how silly that sounded?" Tallis gasped.
"I know how silly it felt." She paused. "But it will not seem silly if he comes."
The Demon Lord gazed into the lake's inky depths, the questions and doubts that plagued him multiplying. The intense silence offered no answers, and no matter how hard he searched within himself, he only found more doubts and questions.
Dark God Page 32
