Dark God

by T C Southwell

  A trickle of blood ran down Bane's chin from his split lip. Ellese raised a hand to wipe it away, but he leant away from her, and she let it fall with a sad sigh. She still held his hand, and if she could, she would probably have hugged him. Mirra had not understood Bane's strange ways, yet Ellese obviously did, and she began to understand why he was the way he was.

  All the time she had been with him, she had not thought to offer him friendship, give him a choice in the matter. She had been so desperate to help him that she had thrust her friendship upon him, and he, rebelling, had rejected it. If only she had understood from whence his bitterness and hatred stemmed, she might have made the same impression on him that Ellese was making now.

  Perhaps deducing that she was putting too much pressure on him, too soon, Ellese stepped back, releasing his hand. Bane rubbed it as she turned and walked up the steps. Mirra started after her, but Bane stayed at the bottom, frowning. She beckoned, and he followed with a suspicious glance at the healers behind him. Ellese led the way into the chapel, where Bane's boots rang on the smooth marble floor. The eternal flame burnt at the altar, white and pure. Mirra walked past it, but Bane approached it, his expression curious.

  Ellese glanced back and shouted, "No!"

  Bane stopped as the white flame lashed out, striking the runes on his chest. The sacred fire crawled over him, and he collapsed with a choked cry. Mirra ran to him, skidding on her knees to his side. He writhed, struggling to draw breath that was denied him. The altar flame was out. Ellese rushed to him and also dropped to her knees, her hands fluttering above his writhing form. Bane's head was thrown back, his mouth open as he fought to breathe, but the white fire held him. His skin took on a bluish tinge. Ellese rose to approach the altar, holding her hands out, palms up, in a gesture of supplication.

  Her voice shook as she cried, "Great Lady, spare him, I beg you. He is the receptacle of evil, not evil itself. Spare him! We need him!"

  The altar flame lighted, and Bane drew a harsh gasp. The white fire had released him, and he lay panting. Ellese returned to kneel beside him, but he sat up before she could touch him. Mirra knew better than to try, and merely smiled at him.

  Ellese said, "I am sorry. You went too near the flame. You must not approach it so close."

  A sudden realisation struck Mirra. "That is why you abandoned the abbey. It would have killed him."

  Bane looked from one to the other, scowling.

  Ellese nodded. "It would, which is why, in every abbey he attacked, the holy fire was snuffed out before he entered the chapel, on my orders."

  Bane said, "You could have killed me then, and the Black Lord would not have risen."

  "No. We would have merely delayed it for twenty years while he prepared another boy. The next one he would have warned not to enter an abbey. Once he had solved the problem of how to break the wards, he would not have stopped until he succeeded. We needed you alive, up here, able to match the Black Lord's power. And besides, we do not kill."

  Bane rose to his feet. "I have not agreed to anything other than to come here with the healer."

  Ellese nodded, and they gave the flame a wide berth as they continued through the chapel. She led him down one of the long, pillared walkways that bordered the inner garden. The Demon Lord's dark aura looked out of place against the backdrop of flowers and twinkling fountains. The healers favoured only the palest blooms, and strived to recreate the mythical cloud gardens of the light realm in their humble dwellings. Soft grey and sacred white permeated every aspect of the temple and its denizens, signifying their devotion to peace, love and life. Through this crucible of goodness and salvation stalked Bane, death-bringer and darkness-wielder, whose shadowy presence, clad in crimson and jet, the colours of blood and death, sullied the hushed serenity of the Goddess' sanctum.

  Tallis appeared, and gave a shout of joy when she spotted Mirra, running towards them. Mirra dashed to meet her, and they hugged, jumping with happiness. Tallis' soft brown eyes sparkled with joy, and a huge grin wreathed her square, staid countenance framed by bouncing brown curls that fought to be free of an untidy plait.

  Ellese looked at the Demon Lord, who watched them with a slight frown. His clear, intelligent eyes gleamed with curiosity, and something else, which she could not fathom. It might have been resentment, bitterness or jealousy, she could not tell. Ellese walked on, and he followed, glancing back often at the girls, who happily chatted, their arms around each other's waists. Again she caught a flash of some strange emotion in his eyes.

  "They are friends," she explained.

  "Friends? One owes the other a favour?"

  "Is that what they told you friendship was? Nothing could be further from the truth, but you will learn. Here is your room."

  Ellese opened the door of a cramped cell with a dim window, narrow bed, well-worn table, an elderly chair and a painting of a sunny landscape on its pale grey wall.

  "I am afraid it is not much, we are rather full at the moment. We do not have a lot of time. The Black Lord crossed into the New Kingdom yesterday. He leaves a trail far bloodier than yours, if that is possible. Fortunately for us, his slaughter slows him, which buys us a little time, though not much. Once he learns of our plan, I think he will approach much faster. Your purification will start tomorrow. Would you like me to tend to your cut, or shall I send Mirra?"

  He dumped the pack on the floor. "I will do it."

  "Of course. You do not need our help."

  Bane's eyes flicked up to meet hers, filled with angry suspicion.

  She smiled. "It is all right, I understand. Down there, if you accepted help, you owed a favour. Up here, it is free."

  "Is it?"

  She shrugged. "For the most part. Rest now. I will send Mirra with your food later. It will not be poisoned, but she can taste it for you if you like."

  His expression darkened further. "Did you spy on everything I did?"

  "I did not spy, although I am certain that is what they would call it. I watched you, suffered with you, wept for you..." She shook her head at his hard, unyielding expression. "Oh, what is the use? If you want to talk, I shall be in my study. It is down the corridor, the third door on the right."

  She went to the door, then turned. "Oh, one last thing. If you want to wander about the abbey, ask Mirra or I to go with you. I do not want my young acolytes having hysterical fits because the Demon Lord gave them the evil eye."

  He smiled with weary bitterness. "As you wish."

  Ellese left him to tend his wound in the solitude of his cell and walked to her study, pondering him. How she longed to throw her arms about him and give him the love he had never received. So many times, he had haunted her dreams, a small boy with hunted eyes who ran through the Underworld's empty caverns, seeking to hide from the demons' endless taunting and cruelty. So many times, she had seen him fall and lie bleeding and crying for hours before an angry droge came and smeared the burning ointment on his wound, cuffed him and left him to sob, or shouted at him to be quiet until he was. It had tormented her to see him whipped for no reason, mocked for his weakness and taunted for his cries of pain. A feral look had replaced his innocence as he hunted the small Underworld creatures, clad in filth and matted hair.

  Then an angry teenager had stalked the caverns, trying so hard to give what he had so often received, but unable to hurt the elusive demons or the droges that felt no pain. How they had mocked him, scorned him and humiliated him over and over again, stoking his futile rage until it seemed likely to consume him. She had watched his lost young eyes fill with bitterness and hatred, seen his face settle into cruel, harsh lines. With his mastery of the power had come a transformation. The filth had burnt away, and his tangled mane had become a silken fall as glossy as a raven's wing.

  What a beautiful child he had been, and what a striking young man he had grown into. Had he lived a normal life, he would have had the maids swooning over him, and probably would have been wed with a babe on the way by now. His life had taken a d
ifferent course, however, and he had grown up a solitary, unloved boy. After eighteen years, he had been unleashed, filled with power, bitterness and hatred for all things. She shook her head in wonder, pushing open her study door.

  At last he was here, as she had so often dreamt, but a grown man now, hating the world and all in it, save Mirra. His feelings for Mirra were indeed baffling him. The flare of jealousy he had experienced when she had greeted Tallis so effusively had confused him still more, and it would take a while for him to understand it.

  Bane sat on the hard bed, gazing blindly at the grey wall. Events had taken an unexpected turn, and he struggled to deal with it. He had expected a cold, even hostile reception from the healers, and a business-like offer to heal him in return for his help. Instead, after the initial slap, which was supposedly his punishment, he had been welcomed, and offered friendship without any bargain being struck. He was suspicious of everything that was said and done in this nest of witches. He trusted none of them, especially the old spying one. When he had told the old witch that he had not agreed to help them, however, she had not turned a hair, as if that was no news to her.

  Yet she spoke of his purge beginning tomorrow, so he might be healed. What did they want of him, these women with their strange ways and inscrutable smiles? All were like that, save Mirra, whose feelings shone so clearly in her eyes. Feelings he did not comprehend. All he knew was that she liked him, for she had told him so. The look in her eyes spoke of something more than mere liking, but he knew not what. He had been surprised and hurt to see the same look on her face when she had greeted her friend, and wondered why it hurt. Why should he care if she liked others too?

  The Demon Lord rose and paced the room, his thoughts whirling in a wild jig. He did not care about these people, not even the girl. He was merely a little grateful to her for saving him. Then again, why should he be? She had only saved him in the hope that he would save them. Her talk of his humanity, confirmed by the Black Lord's cruel words, irked him. More than anything, he longed to return to the Underworld, where he belonged.

  That was no longer his home, however, no matter how much he missed it. He was an outcast, hated by the people of the Overworld and the demons below, although they had to obey him while he wielded the dark power. The one being he had counted on, looked to for guidance and respect, had turned his back on him. Now that the girl was amongst her own kind, she no longer needed him, and he was useless, rejected, lost and alone as never before. All he had left was his hatred, which burnt in him; a fire that ate at his guts. Hatred for the Black Lord, who had deceived and used him, then left him for dead. Hatred for the healers, who also wished to use him, whose foul plan had denied him the release of death by forcing him to protect the girl.

  Bane stopped before a wall, banged it with his fist, then turned and flung himself onto the bed, which creaked in protest. The whirling jig in his head had slowed to a stately dance of dark and gloomy thoughts, filling his heart with bitter coldness. The idea of vengeance had appealed to him when the girl had suggested it. The dark power within him agreed with that kind of wish. Nothing would bring him more satisfaction than to destroy the Black Lord forever, not to save this ugly world, but for his pride, which the Black Lord had trampled so harshly into the dust.

  For that, he would undergo the healing the witches offered. Let them think it was for their sake, but once he had won his victory, he would go down and take the Black Lord's place as ruler of the Underworld. The thought brought a cold smile to his lips as he pondered his plan. Once he was enthroned in the Underworld, the Overworld would be at his mercy, for nothing could stop him from rising and sporting with the feeble humans.

  His satisfied smirk faltered when he thought about the girl, for she would still live above, that was certain. He squashed the thought savagely, angered by it. She would do as he wished. Why did he care where she was anyway? The stately dance speeded up, spurred by this intrusive thought, and his mind spun again, looking for a way out of the trap. His mood darkened when he realised that he was still caught, still held by the healer's spell, and he cursed her.

  Mirra and Tallis chatted excitedly in the corridor, both so filled with news that they were too impatient to listen to the other speak. Their chatter rose to a gabble, and Mirra tugged on Tallis' arm to quiet her.

  "Do you want to meet him?" Her eyes hunted Tallis's face for the same kind of enthusiasm and fascination for Bane that she had.

  Instead, Tallis paled. "He is the Demon Lord."

  "His name is Bane, and he is my friend."

  "I know what his name is," Tallis almost snapped, "and I know what he did to you. How can you claim him as a friend?"

  "It does not matter what he did, he has changed."

  Tallis pulled a face. "I doubt that."

  "Well he has, and I want you to meet him. He needs friends."

  "Friends? He is a monster!"

  Mirra shook her head. "No he is not, he is just lost. He needs to learn that people can be nice to him."

  "It would help if he had ever been nice to someone else."

  "He has. He saved my life more than once. Does that not count in his favour?"

  Tallis sighed. "It would, if he had done it for a better reason than so that he could torment you."

  "He is not like that anymore."

  "He is still evil."

  "Tal, he is going to save us all."

  "We hope."

  Mirra grabbed her friend's hand and dragged her down the corridor. "Come on, you will like him too."

  "Could we not just go somewhere and talk? You have spent months with him, give him a rest."

  "I want to make sure he is all right."

  Tallis hung back. "Mir, is he not dangerous?"

  "No! Well, maybe, but he is not going to get angry with you. Why should he?"

  "I do not know. What if I say the wrong thing?"

  Mirra snorted. "I will not let him harm you, he listens to me." She spoke with all the proud confidence of a sixteen-year-old lion tamer.

  Mirra towed Tallis to Bane's door, where she knocked. A gruff reply told her to come in, and she did, pulling Tallis. Her smile faded.

  The Demon Lord sat on the bed, his back against the wall. His cloak draped the bed like a pool of blood, and his boots rested on the clean linen. He looked so tense and alone that her heart cried out with pity, and she longed to run to him and hug him, give him some of the comfort he so plainly needed. His cold eyes daunted her, however, flicking to Tallis with a freezing glance. Mirra ignored his warning look and tugged Tallis forward.

  "Bane, this is Tallis, my friend."

  "What of it?" His tone dripped contempt.

  Mirra sighed. "I wanted you to meet her."

  His eyes sent needles of ice at Tallis, who bobbed and mumbled. His cold gaze slid to Mirra, not warming one iota. "Well, now I have met her, so you can run along and have your little girlish chat."

  Mirra snorted, releasing Tallis, and walked over to sit on the bed beside him. His tension increased, and he watched her with suspicious, angry eyes. His expression told her that he did not want company, hers or anyone else's.

  "Why do you not relax?” she asked. “Be nice."

  Bane regarded her steadily, and Mirra beckoned to Tallis, who hovered. "Come here, Tal, he does not bite."

  Tallis approached, and Bane waited until she was almost at Mirra's side, then sat up.

  "Do not be so sure, girl," he growled.

  Tallis squeaked and fled.

  Bane laughed, his eyes flicking back to Mirra, alight with malice. "Your friend seems a little frightened of me. I wonder why?"

  Mirra shook her head in gentle reproof, puzzled by his black mood. "That was nasty."

  "I am a nasty person." His eyes narrowed. "You think you are safe, and perhaps you are, but do not tempt my anger with your foolish little friends. I did not come here to be shown off like a caged beast, for you to brag about to your friends, tell them how harmless I am now that you think you have d
rawn my fangs with your spell. Think again."

  "If it seemed that way to you, I am sorry, I did not mean it like that. All I wanted was for you to meet Tallis, make another friend, so you would not feel so terribly alone."

  He studied the wall. "I do not feel alone. I am used to it. I do not need friends, and I do not like being disturbed by gibbering girls who wet their pants at the sight of me."

  "If you did not look so forbidding, and were a little friendlier -"

  "I have just said I do not want friends," he interrupted, his angry gaze flashing to her.

  Mirra frowned. "Do not let your bitterness eat away at your heart. Friendship is a wonderful thing."

  "How would I know? I enjoy my solitude. The old crone warned me not to stalk about and frighten the little girls, but she did not say I could not if they invaded my room."

  "No one will invade your room if you are horrible to them."

  "Good." He paused, frowning. "Anyway, I did nothing to her."

  "You could see she was terrified of you. Why scare her?"

  He shrugged. "It was fun." His eyes slid away from her accusing gaze. "And I do not enjoy being stared at like some loathsome thing that just crawled out from under a rock."

  Mirra nodded, regretting her urge to have Bane meet Tallis, for he was right, Tallis had stared at him with deep loathing and fear. It would take a long time for anyone to get to know Bane, and overcome his or her initial, natural revulsion for what he was. Perhaps, once he was purged, things would change, but no one who knew who he was would ever treat him as a normal person. Bringing Tallis to meet him had been a mistake, rubbing salt into the wounds of his torn and battered ego, and probably making him feel like a monster. Eager to put the unfortunate incident behind her, she changed the subject.

  "Did you tend to your cut?"