Bane dropped to his knees beside Mirra, cold dread piercing him at the sight of the blood that oozed from the wound. "Use your power. Heal yourself!"
She coughed. "I... have none."
Bane looked up, raising his arms as he prepared to summon the dark power and blast aside the clouds that blocked the sun. Mirra gripped his shirt, and he looked down at her. Red froth oozed from her mouth as she struggled to speak.
"No, it will... kill you."
He frowned. "It does not matter."
"Do not leave us at the mercy of the Black Lord."
"I will have my revenge."
"Bane... do not leave me."
He stared down at her, confused by the strange emotion that clogged his throat. "I will take you back to the temple. The healers will make you better."
Her lips curved in a tremulous smile, then the light faded from her eyes, and they drifted closed. She sighed, and her head lolled to the side.
Bane tried to find a pulse in her throat, detecting only a faint, fading flutter. He bent and pressed his ear to her chest, but her heart was still. Straightening, he frowned down at her delicate features, her soft golden hair ruffled by the wind. He stroked her cheek, wondering why he was so empty. He had seen many people die, and killed quite a number himself, but never had he had any regret at their demise.
The emptiness gnawed at him, spreading through him like fingers of fire, consuming the cold pit at the centre of his being. For the first time, he understood the meaning of loneliness. It welled up in him like a black river. The walls of ice within him melted and crumbled, bricks of frozen rage fired by years of pain and mortared with hatred lost their cohesion. A new kind of pain seeped from the broken walls around his heart, one that he had never experienced before, and never knew existed. An exquisite, all-consuming pain.
A cold stab of loss and desolation shot through him, and the river of sorrow overflowed within him, saturating him with emptiness, an aching void that nothing could ever fill. Slow, painful tears forced their way into his eyes and flowed down his face like threads of ice. He bowed his head, confused by the overpowering emotion for which he had no name. Driven by an urge he did not understand, he gathered her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. For the first time, he held another human being. Her face was peaceful, a faint smile still curving her lips as it had when she had slipped away from him. The cold wind whipped his hair, tearing at the cloak that swirled around him, rising to a shriek that mocked his despairing words.
"No. I will not let you go."
Rage filled him, a fury the likes of which he had not experienced before. Dammed for so long in the depths of his heart, his bitterness and hatred for the world that had so misused him burst from him in a savage scream. It mingled with his sorrow to form an overwhelming emotion that threatened his sanity. She would not slip away from him now. He was the Demon Lord. He held the fate of this world in his hands, and death would not defeat him. Raising his face to the stormy sky, he shouted his defiance and pain to the wind.
"You will not leave me now! I shall tear this world asunder! I will bring you back!"
Bane bent and laid her on the ground, then stood up and raised his arms. Black fire exploded from him, channelled up his arms to rip a pit of utter blackness in the heavens, tearing the clouds apart. As they rolled aside with majestic splendour, agony stabbed through him and his heart hammered. A ray of sunshine shot down, gilding Mirra's pale skin. He glared at the hole in the clouds with ink-black eyes, and his savage cry rent the storm's wail, powered by the darkness.
"Hear me, Lady! I am the Demon Lord! Return her to me, or your Overworld dies!"
Bane lashed out, uncaring of the destruction he wrought, he flung the power from him with sweeping, savage gestures. The forest behind him burst into flames as the dark fire razed it. The ground opened in a yawning pit that swallowed yellow grass and dying trees. The Overworld perished in the spreading ring of malevolence that rippled from him, crisping the dry grass, burning the soil with a soft sizzling whine. The black circle of a demon surrounded him, killing all it touched with the power that blazed from him unchecked, the runes glowing with brilliant fire. He ignored the shafts of agony that spiked his brain, consumed by a grief that dwarfed the pain in his skull.
"Return her to me, damn you! I will destroy this world and all in it! None can stop me, Goddess!"
Again he flung wide his arms, unleashing a tide of power that rolled across the land in a black wave, consuming all in its path. The earth trembled, and lightning, this time his own, hammered into the ground in an unending barrage, followed by roars of thunder that all but deafened him, goading the searing agony in his skull. He clutched his head, dark magic licking over him in a deadly dance. The wind howled, buffeting him, and he looked down at Mirra's peaceful face, self-loathing suffusing him.
Bane fell to his knees and gathered her into his arms again, yearning for the warmth of life in her. She was limp and cold, her cheek pressed to his black shirt beneath which the scars of evil power burnt with dull red light. The emptiness within him swelled, and the agony of the dark magic weakened him, yet he could not snuff it out without risking his demise. His fate was sealed unless the Lady intervened, and he did not care if he died now. Nothing mattered.
The dark world vanished, taking with it the roar of thunder and howling wind, plunging him into utter stillness. Bane froze, his arms tightening about the dead girl. Sweeping pillars of ice penned him in on all sides, and his eyes narrowed as he gazed around. Fury burnt like a hot coal in his chest. He knelt in the centre of an ice cavern, frozen columns disappearing into the gloom high above. Between each pillar a white flame floated, throwing pale glimmers into the translucent ice. The pain in his head was gone, though the dark fire still licked over his hands. He leashed it into his bones, where it smouldered with sullen animosity.
Bane lowered Mirra to the dry, sandy floor. Stretching out his senses, he found nothing beyond the pillars, as if the world ended there. The white flames told him that his abductor was the Lady, and a grim satisfaction warmed him. He turned to Mirra and pulled out the bolt with an angry jerk, flinging it away, then wiped the blood from her face with a corner of his cloak. Her skin had paled, taking on a waxen quality. The cavern remained silent, the flames flickering in their niches, filling it with peace. Bane looked around with growing impatience, his fury a dull ache.
"Show yourself, damn you. Speak to me or strike me down. Do something!" His voice rose. "Give her back to me, or your precious Overworld perishes, Goddess."
Silence answered him, mocking his rage. He wondered what would happen if he lashed out again with the dark magic, but had a nasty suspicion that it would do him no good. In the cavern's silence he waited, the emptiness within him growing until he thought it would devour him. His despair congealed into a solid lump of anguish and his heart became as cold as the frozen pillars.
A flare of light made him look up. One of the white flames swelled, brightening the cavern with ghostly light. It formed a glowing female figure against the glimmering blue of the ice wall, an indistinct form clad in a flowing, iridescent gown. Its radiance filled the cavern with peace and serenity, a spiritual warmth that flowed from it in gentle waves. A female face with a firm jaw and slanted, pale green eyes, mahogany hair and golden skin formed within the radiance. A glowing rainbow nimbus surrounded her pale visage, and golden sparkles glimmered in her eyes. A face perhaps too strong for true beauty, but filled with a regal presence that left no doubt in his mind as to who she was. Her pale lips parted.
"We meet at last, My Lord." She spoke in a soft, melodic voice.
He regarded her coldly. "Lady."
"You called upon me, Demon Lord."
"Indeed, what is your answer?"
"You mourn the one who lies before you. Why?"
"I did not want her to die."
"She has nothing to fear from death, My Lord."
"I know."
"So why do you mourn her? Are you not
glad that she is dead? Did you not want to kill her?"
"No. At first, I thought I did, but I could not... I was misled."
The Lady smiled with sweet benevolence. "And now you want her back."
"Yes."
"Why, Bane? Did you not say that you do not need anyone? Why would you want her back? To suffer the brunt of your temper, and follow you like a cur?"
Bane went cold as the blood drain from his cheeks.
"Yes, My Lord." The Lady's eyes softened. "I have watched you too. Think you that I do not see all?"
"Did you bring me here to taunt me?" Bane's rage tried to break through the wall of ice that trapped it. "Is this your punishment for the wrongs I have done? Beware, Goddess, your Overworld will be destroyed without my intervention."
She shook her head. "This is not the Underworld, My Lord. I do not taunt or jeer. It is not my way. Why would you want her back, when you intend to abandon her and return to the Underworld?"
"If that is your condition, I will stay in the Overworld."
"So, you need her."
He hesitated, confused. "I want her back. Return her to me."
"But why do you want her back? You do not care for her, do you? You do not know the meaning of love, nor do you wish to."
"What do you want of me?"
"I want nothing, My Lord. It is you who want something you have never had, something you have always longed for. She gave it to you. Now you have lost her, and you never returned it."
Bane frowned. "I do not know what you mean."
"What about her needs? Did you ever stop to consider her?"
He looked down at the girl and stroked her cheek. No words could express his pain.
"Ah, Bane." She sighed. "I feel your sorrow. Why did you never caress her when she lived? Can you only touch her corpse so tenderly? What it must be, to be caressed so, by the hand of the Demon Lord. What a shame it is too late."
"It is not too late. You can bring her back. You are a goddess!"
"Why should I? Why do you not? Are you not the all-powerful Demon Lord?"
"I cannot, as you well know."
"So, you need my help."
"You need mine more, or your Overworld will die," he retorted.
"Ah, but did she not only suffer at your hands?"
"She will not again, I swear it."
She shook her head in gentle reproof. "That is not enough."
"Then what do you want?" Bane's voice rose, harsh with pain. "I will fight the Black Lord, free the Overworld, but only if she lives."
"Tell me what you would give to her."
"Just give her back to me!"
The pale radiance faded. "I will not send her precious soul back to sup the dregs from your table, Demon Lord."
"Wait! Do you care nothing for the Overworld? Will you let it perish?"
The light that enshrined her pulsed. "I will ask the question one last time. Only when you admit it to me, will you admit it to yourself. What do you feel for her?"
He shook his head, confused and angry. "How should I know what it is? I have not felt anything like it before. It weakens me, and I hate it. It is an Overworld emotion, born of their puny flesh, of which it now seems I am a part. Send her back, and I shall not harm or abandon her. More than that you will not get from me, since I have no more to give. Make of that what you will."
"You may not know what it is you feel, but I do. You love her, Bane." Her green eyes glowed. "Very well, I shall return her to you, but you will provide the life force to bring her back. It will be your punishment, and it is no small thing, for suffering is something of which you have had far too much."
Bane looked down at Mirra, frowning. Nothing would be too great a sacrifice, if it brought her back. He groaned as a terrible weight seemed to fall on him, making him slump. A deep cold invaded him, and his strength drained from him as if an artery had been opened and his blood flooded out. His vision darkened, and the cave spun sickeningly. A trembling weakness followed on the heels of the cold, and the crushing weight pressed down on him so he laboured to breathe, his heart racing. Sweat ran down his brow, yet he shivered as the terrible cold froze his gut. He gasped, drawing breath with a great effort, and wondered if he was dying.
Mirra sighed. Her skin blossomed with golden radiance, and the wound in her chest vanished, leaving only the bloodstain on her robe. Her waxy pallor faded as colour returned to her skin. He struggled to stay conscious to witness the miracle of her return to life, but a black curtain descended and oblivion washed over him.
When Bane woke, he lay on his back, a sour taste in his mouth. He sat up, fighting the quivering weakness of his limbs, which barely obeyed him, and examined his hands, expecting to find withered skin and liver spots. They looked no different, but he knew something of what the Goddess had done, and wondered how many years of his life he had given to bring Mirra back from the dead. He ached, and his stomach tried to crawl into his mouth.
Mirra slept, her skin warm, a pulse beating in the hollow of her throat.
"Bane."
He looked up at the Goddess, who gazed down at him with gentle, glowing eyes.
"Some of your life has been given to her, as you rightly suspect. As for your threat. Yes. You could have forced my hand, for I will not let the Overworld die if I can find a way to save it, but it is better this way, for both of us. You may yet lose her again, Demon Lord, for she is in great peril. When your hour is blackest, and your need greatest, remember this; no one can stand alone always."
Bane opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but her radiant visage vanished. He looked down at Mirra, the ice within him thawing. The glow under her skin had paled, and she shivered in the cave's chill. He unclipped his cloak and wrapped her in it, but she continued to shiver, and he glared around at the ice pillars, finding that they, too, had vanished. The grey walls of an Overworld cave replaced the Lady's sanctum, watery sunlight coming through the mouth a few feet away.
Bane rose and went in search of wood, finding a scrubby, windswept hillside outside. When he had gathered enough fuel, he piled it beside the sleeping girl and lighted it with his fire, not caring about the tingle that jabbed through his head. The blaze warmed the cave, and he knelt beside it, feeding it dry twigs.
Mirra's shivers lessened, and her breathing quickened as she began to wake. He watched her, trying to analyse the strange emotion that had driven him to call upon the Goddess for aid, something he would never have otherwise considered doing. After several minutes, she sighed, and her eyes opened, roving the cavern before coming to rest on him. She looked confused and vaguely alarmed.
"Bane? What happened?" She sat up and glanced around. "Where are we?"
He shrugged, studying the fire. "In a cave."
"How did we get here?"
He hesitated, unwilling to relate the tale of his threat and the Goddess' subsequent abduction. "I brought you. Dorel shot you, remember? I brought you here, and spoke to your Goddess. She healed you."
"You spoke to the Lady?" Her eyes widened. "What was she like? What did she say?"
Bane shrugged again. "She was a goddess. She glowed. I asked her to heal you, and she did."
"You have received a rare honour. The Lady appears rarely in visions, and then usually only to an Elder Mother."
Bane nodded, looking ill at ease, and Mirra studied him more closely. He seemed subdued, and his eyes avoided hers. Lines of weariness bracketed his mouth and gathered around his eyes, and his skin had a sickly pallor, worse than before. As if uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he rose and walked to the cave entrance to stare out at the bitter sky as lightning played across the land. She noticed that he was not wearing his cloak, and found that she was wrapped in it. He turned to face her.
"I have a task to complete. I will return you to the temple."
"You must be purged and healed, Bane."
He hesitated, then inclined his head. "Very well."
His agreement surprised her, but she was too thrilled to question
it. She rose, her legs a little weak. Approaching him, she held out his cloak. He took it, and, to her surprise, draped it around her shoulders, wrapping her in it.
"You need it more than I. It is cold."
Bane turned away, and the thunder of the demon steed's hooves outside heralded its arrival. She followed him out to where Orris snorted fire and pawed the ground. The icy wind stung her face, probing the cloak for a way in, and she was glad of its warmth. She gazed around, shocked by the vista that greeted her. The grass that covered the hillside was yellow and brittle, and the wind had stripped it away in places, leaving bare, dead soil. A stand of dying trees lashed naked branches in the unnatural wind. In the few hours that had passed since the accident with Dorel, the Overworld's demise had leapt ahead.
She turned to Bane, who gazed at the destruction. He glanced at her. "I will set it right."
Bane lifted her onto the demon steed, then mounted behind her. She leant against him, and his arms slid around her waist and held her, to her amazement. A gush of joy washed through her, and she marvelled at the change in him, wondering what had caused it.
Chapter Five
The Purge
Ellese eyed Bane, wondering what it was about him that appeared different, apart from his pallor and the shadows under his eyes. He looked exhausted, and stood close to Mirra. She noted the bloodstains on the girl's robe.
"What happened?"
Mirra grinned, looking immensely happy and just a little smug. "Bane will be purged."
"I meant, what happened to you?"
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