"It does not matter."
"I do not have to use the power, Orriss can do it."
She shook her head. "It is not that. They have been punished, let them live."
Bane's hands clenched as if he wanted to hit her. "I am sick of your self-righteous prating. They struck me!"
She stood her ground, raising her chin. "Let them go."
His hand swung up, and her eyes followed it, then he spun away, lowering it. "Damn you."
She turned to the grovelling bandit. "Go, quickly."
Mirra had never seen men move so fast. One moment they were there, the next, only the soft sigh of the wind in the leaves and the faint trilling of a distant bird disturbed the wood's peace. Bane stood with his back to her, his shoulders stiff and his hands clenched. After she had gathered up their belongings and put them back in the pack, she walked over to stand beside him.
"What would killing them have achieved?"
"Satisfaction," he growled.
"It was unnecessary. They were already terrified."
He snorted. "They deserved it. They are scum."
"Even such as they can find redemption, if given the chance. How did you make the rune glow?"
He looked down at it. "This? Easy. It requires no power at all. It is merely activated, like so." He traced another rune, making it glow. "It is just to limit my use of the power. The more I activate, the more power I can use, although if I need more, the others will become active on their own."
"Have you ever used seven?"
"No." He rubbed the faded scar in the centre of his chest. "Not since my... the Black Lord cut it."
She shivered, gazing at the runes. "Can you stop them glowing?"
"Of course." He looked down at the scars, and the glow vanished, then his eyes flicked up to her again as he fastened his tunic.
Mirra smiled. "Thank you for letting them go."
He shrugged. "You asked." A slight frown furrowed his brow. "Actually, you ordered, which I do not appreciate."
"Does it matter to you, what I want?"
Bane's face stiffened, and he eyed her. "I suppose so."
Mirra laid a hand on his arm, and he stood still for once. "Why?"
"I suppose... I owe you my life."
"I owe you mine."
He shifted with apparent unease. "What of it?"
"The debts are cancelled. What is the real reason?"
He frowned. "You know perfectly well. Your damned spell."
"And you ought to know by now that there is no spell."
"Ought I?" He swung away, shaking her off. "Whether I do or not is none of your damned business."
Striding to the demon steed, he picked up the pack and flung it onto the stallion's back, then mounted, frowning at her before holding out his hand. Orriss had resumed its normal horse aspect, and they set off again.
As they rode, she pondered his strange mood swings and the lameness of his argument, wondering what was the matter with him. He seemed defensive, almost confused, but perhaps it was the odd situation in which he now found himself and the pain of the Black Lord's betrayal. He still did not trust her, but found himself with no choice now, unless he rejected her advice as lies and went after the Black Lord alone. She wished that she understood him better, but since he hated to be questioned, he remained a mystery. Despite his harshness towards her, his confusion wrung her heart.
Chapter Three
The Lady's Temple
Three more days of travel through a gloomy, ash-covered countryside brought them to the Lady's Temple. The demon steed's tireless gallop ate up the miles at an astonishing rate, covering the distance that had taken them weeks of travel at the army's pace. Its powers now had full rein, with no wards to constrain it, and when they crossed wild areas where no one would see them, its flying hooves swallowed up the leagues. They learnt, from their encounters with bandits, to avoid thickets and woodland, and the detours they had to make made little difference to their time, since the demon steed could travel much faster in open country.
Twice they spotted bands of mounted men in the distance, but their speed was such that they were far past before the outlaws even had time to turn towards them. Mirra came to appreciate the stallion's powers, even though it was from the Underworld. Without the demon steed, it would have taken them far too long to reach the Lady's Temple, she was sure. The threat of the Black Lord was constant, even though, for the moment, he had settled in the Old Kingdom. When he chose to move, it would be at his own demon steed's lightning pace, or worse, he would use his power and Move, as Bane could not. Their swift travel brought them to their destination before the Black Lord could deduce what they were up to, otherwise he would have overtaken them before they reached the temple, Mirra was certain.
As they entered the grounds, Orriss balked, digging in its heels and propping to a halt, its hoof prints smoking. Bane helped Mirra down, then slid off.
"It can go no further. This is hallowed ground," he explained, pulling off the heavy pack and dumping it on the ground.
The demon steed tossed its head and cantered away, leaving them to finish the journey on foot. Bane picked up the bag that contained his potions and spare clothes, leaving the tent and furniture. Beneath the racing black clouds, the Goddess' Temple gleamed pale grey in its garden of flowering trees and shrubs. No ash fell here, and the lush countryside was unspoilt, although it did not benefit from the sun's warm light.
A vivid meadow surrounded the temple, and tall forests crept up the low hills beyond it. After that the land became untamed. Belts of woodland ran through flower-spotted meadows where sheep and cattle grazed. The temple was far larger than any abbey Mirra had ever seen. A slender bell tower rose above the sweeping, pointed archway that framed the main doors whose golden wood was studded and banded with polished brass. The bell tower's domed silver roof gleamed in the dull light, and beneath it, white granite edged the steeply slanted grey slate roof. The tall, stained-glass windows, rimmed with white granite, bore images of the Lady in her various poses. Above the main doors, a circular window featured her most popular likeness, her hands spread and her eyes downcast as she blessed the multitudes.
At the rear of the chapel, corridors led to the abbey's dormitories, which bordered the inner courtyard with its garden, fountains and shady paving, where the healers relaxed and meditated. Two fountains bordered the path that led the abbey's doors, and a pair of spreading mage trees shaded it. The trees' pale, gnarled branches wept sweeping streamers of white flowers and slender grey-green leaves. Hedges of moon fire bushes swept out on either side of the entrance, the silvery blossoms shimmering against a backdrop of almost black leaves. In front of it, beds of white, orchid-like snow blossoms flourished beside cloud shrubs whose filigree white leaves gave off a delicate mint scent.
Mirra and Bane walked along the narrow dirt road that led to the temple's forecourt, where young acolytes worked in the gardens, hoeing and pruning, their girlish laughter carrying on the crisp air. As the pair drew closer, a girl looked up and gazed in their direction. Mirra waved, but the girl's eyes were fixed on the Demon Lord. She yelled and ran, making the others look up in alarm, then join her in a white-robed stampede into the temple. Clearly they had been warned of his coming, and knew who he was.
Mirra glanced at Bane, trying to see him as they did, for she was used to him now. He towered beside her, his ankle-length black cloak, which hung from his broad shoulders, showing flashes of crimson satin lining as he walked. His eyes were no longer bloodshot, and his too-red lips were the only outward sign of his illness, but she thought that he cut a demonic, god-like figure, despite his youth.
He glanced at her. "Do I look like a monster, or is it just my reputation?"
Mirra giggled, relieved that he could quip about his effect on the girls. "They are just young and easily scared. You look forbidding, but not monstrous."
He seemed unconcerned. "I suppose they have reason to fear me."
"You must put that all behind you. Do not torment y
ourself with guilt about what you did. That was the Black Lord, not you."
His brows rose. "I am not tormented by guilt."
Mirra shot him a shocked look, wishing that he was. At least it would show that he had a conscience, and was not inherently evil. Then again, she reminded herself, he was still filled with the dark power, which warped his thinking and twisted his reason, probably robbing him of a conscience as well. In fact, right now he carried more of the corruption within him than ever, since he had been forced to leash the massive energies he had Gathered at the seventh ward. Only once he was purged would his true nature be revealed. She had glimpsed it on occasion, when his tasks had drained his power, and then he had been a troubled, unhappy man. Even then, however, his loyalty to the Black Lord had made him angry and scornful.
Ellese waited at the top of the five steps that led into the chapel, her expression serene. The golden doors stood open, and a soft radiance filled the abbey behind her. Two other Elder Mothers flanked her, and a group of stern-faced healers stood behind them, their hard eyes on Bane. With a glad cry, Mirra ran up the steps to be engulfed in Ellese's welcoming embrace. It had been far too long since Mirra had known the comforting touch of another human being, and hot tears flooded her eyes.
"Mother! It is so good to be home."
Ellese hugged her, then held her away to study her, brushing the tears from her cheeks. Elder Mother's eyes also grew moist, and she pulled Mirra into her arms again, stroking her ragged hair. Clearly Mirra's thinness and frailty distressed Ellese.
"My poor, sweet child, how I have missed you," she murmured. "Thank the Goddess you are returned to us unharmed."
"I have missed you too, Mother."
"I know, my dear, but you are safe now. I regret all you have suffered, and the Goddess does too."
Ellese kissed Mirra's brow, then released her and looked at Bane, who stood at the bottom of the steps, his hands clasped behind him. He seemed a little puzzled by this strange behaviour, and rather bored, his pale eyes sweeping the gathered women. Ellese stepped around Mirra and walked down the steps.
Bane eyed Ellese when she stopped a step above him, her face almost level with his, and studied him. He held her gaze, his stare becoming a glare as her scrutiny annoyed him. Ellese slapped him so hard that he staggered.
"Mother!" Mirra ran down to Bane, who fingered his bleeding lip. He shook her off when she tried to grab his arm and spun to face the seeress with murder in his eyes. Ellese raised her chin, undaunted.
"I hope that hurt, Bane. You have had a lot of pain, but none of it was punishment, was it? That was for all the innocent people you have tortured and killed, for your ill treatment of Mirra, beating her, starving her. I think you got off lightly."
"How dare you?" Blood ran down his chin, and his eyes blazed.
Ellese smiled. "How dare I? It is a small punishment for what you have done. Do you want to use your power? Smear me to ash? You will die if you do, and your demon steed cannot help you here."
Bane glared at Mirra. "I did not come here to be insulted."
Ellese answered before Mirra could. "Did you think we would welcome you with open arms? The great Demon Lord, a walking corpse, alive only because of us. You ignored the warnings, broke the last ward, and now the Black Lord is risen. Here you will learn to be humble, to mourn those you killed."
"Never!" He swung away, only to find that healers surrounded him, mostly older women, their eyes stony. He had not yet regained all of his strength, and did not seem to relish the prospect of trying to fight his way through them, even if he could, which was doubtful. Apparently the thought of their touch made him shudder, and he turned back to Ellese.
"So you all hate me. Do you think I care? The girl said that you do not know hatred, but you do. She lied!"
Elder Mother shook her head. "We do not lie, that is the Black Lord's talent. Mirra does not know hate, she is devoid of those emotions. She knows only the good ones, which you have never heard of. We know hate, and you deserve it, just as you deserve our pity."
"I do not want your damned pity!"
"That has always been your war cry, has it not, Bane? Raised in Hell, you learnt only hatred, and the little boy in you still cries out against the cruelties and injustices you suffered. Demons love to taunt, do they not? Your only defence was defiance. 'I do not want your pity! I do not want your help! I do not want your mercy!' Is that not so, Bane?" She spat his name as if it was dirt on her tongue, making Mirra cringe at her unusual vindictiveness.
The Demon Lord became ashen, his eyes haunted. "That is a lie."
"No it is not. I know. I was there, with you, all those years. I shared your trials; I witnessed your humiliation. I understand you. You have never known love, never been touched in kindness, never been held in comfort. That is why you are incapable of it. I wept for you, all those years. I loved you, held you in my dreams when you crawled into a dark corner and cried, a small boy, lost and alone, afraid."
As she spoke, the harshness left her tone, as if telling the story of his torture reminded her of the suffering he had endured. The memory seemed to banish her animosity, and her face creased with sadness. She hated what he had done, that much was obvious, but at the same time she pitied him, and the pity overwhelmed her. Tears overflowed Ellese's eyes, and Mirra stared at her in amazement.
Elder Mother wiped her cheeks. "I suffered with you, trapped in Hell. I longed for your freedom. For twenty years I have waited for this day. Mirra brought you to me, and you do not even know her name. You have a heart, you were born with it, and the Lady created your spirit.
"You were conceived from love and raised without it. The Black Lord named you a curse, but you are not. I have stood by you, all these years, I believed in you. You come here at long last, and my heart's desire was to look upon your face, yet you look at me as if I was something you just scraped off your shoe."
Ellese stepped closer to the Demon Lord, who recoiled, looking confused. Mirra wondered if Ellese was being fair. It was too sudden. She touched his arm, and he jerked away as if burnt, his eyes hunted. He did not understand what he was being offered, having never experienced kindness or love. The dark magic within him filled him with suspicion and hatred, rejecting any kindness as trickery or worse, throwing him into a confused emotional quagmire.
Ellese smiled wearily, recognising his inability to accept what she wanted so much to give him. "I know you cannot possibly understand this. You have a lot to learn about love and friendship, trust and kindness. You will learn to be human."
Bane had the look of a wolf who had just found himself in the midst of a flock of exceedingly hostile sheep. He backed away as Ellese moved closer still, his confusion giving way to anger, clearly expecting more violence. All of a sudden he looked his age, just twenty years, only a young man, barely more than a boy.
"You have no right to lecture me, or insult me."
"I do, but you have nothing to fear from us. We mean you no harm." Elder Mother stopped when the healers behind him hemmed him in. Mirra held her breath, knowing how dangerous Bane could be, when trapped. Be careful, Mother, she thought. Ellese looked up at Bane, who stood a full foot taller.
She smiled. "I offer you our friendship, Bane." She held out her hand. "We forgive you for what you have done, and welcome you to the Goddess' Temple. You cannot be blamed for what the Black Lord made you do. He stole you from your mother's womb and moulded you to do his will."
Her hand remained poised between them, but Bane's stayed at his side. He glanced at Mirra, then back at Ellese. Her words clearly did little to reassure him, and suspicion darkened his expression.
"What do you want from me?"
Ellese let her hand fall. "Ah, Bane, always expecting traps and trickery. That is what they did to you, is it not? Offered a little friendship, made you pay dearly for it, then revoked it. That is what Yangarra did, and you destroyed him in the end. That is when you discovered the answer to your problem. If you cannot have it, destroy it
so it may not be offered to anyone else or used against you. And once you have shown those who dared to mock and abuse you what you are capable of doing, they will not dare to taunt you again. I want nothing from you but your hand in mine. Take it."
Again she reached out to him. It seemed to Mirra that he would not take it, that Ellese's gesture of friendship and reconciliation was wasted on a man as bitter as he. Then her eyes burnt as Bane raised his hand. He stared down at it as if amazed that anyone would want to hold it. He was used to being feared, shunned, and avoided at all costs. The very concept of friendship was alien to him, she was certain, and of love he knew even less. The fact that he could kill the person who dared to touch him as easily as he had done Emperor Agden was enough to prevent most people from offering their hands in friendship.
Mirra surmised that it was for exactly this reason that Ellese offered hers, not to test him, but to show him that she trusted him, and did not perceive him as a monster. Those around Bane had moulded him all his life, first the demons that had taught him to hate, then the people whose fear had taught him to scorn them. This was his first lesson in friendship and trust. He did not stretch his hand out to Ellese, but she closed the gap and gripped his. A smile of joy and relief lighted her face, and Mirra realised that she had been totally unsure of his reaction. His inherent human side warred with the dark power within him, and he could just as easily have rejected her.
"At last," Ellese murmured, smiling. "For all these years I have longed to touch you. Your weeping haunted my dreams, and I yearned to reach out to you, but could not. You have learnt that the greatest torture for a healer is to feel another's pain, but be unable to help them. Imagine my torture, to see and hear a small, innocent boy, suffering alone in the dark, and being able to do nothing. Twenty years of suffering. Twenty years of watching you grow from a frightened child into a large, bitter man. It is over now, you are home." Absently she brushed a tear from her cheek.
Bane stared down at her, his eyes still filled with confusion. Ellese reached up and touched the red mark on his face, where she had hit him earlier. "I am sorry I hit you, perhaps you did not deserve it. You did not know you were not alone. I am a stranger to you, but you are not to me."
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