Bane stepped forward as the Black Lord gestured, and Mirra appeared beside him. Arkonen gripped her arm, making her cry out. He shook her, and she doubled over, retching. Black Lord jerked the girl upright and clasped her throat.
"Come any closer, and she dies."
Bane seethed with fury. Mirra stared at him with beseeching eyes, and Bane cursed her soft heart and trusting nature. She had been out of the Black Lord's reach on hallowed ground, but the moment she stepped off it she was vulnerable.
"Why did you not stay in the temple?" he shouted.
"He... he said you were hurt."
"It was a trick!"
Arkonen chuckled. "How sweet. The young lovers."
Bane shot him a look of unadulterated loathing. "I can love no one. You made sure of that. But I will not let her be harmed."
"Give me your life, and I will let her live. I shall keep her in a gilded cage and bring her out for the demons to sport with."
"Never."
"Then I shall kill her now, boy. You can watch her die slowly. Then you will have nothing to fight for, will you?"
"If you kill her, I will not rest until you are destroyed."
The Black Lord laughed. "Then it will change nothing, except to give me the pleasure of watching you suffer as she dies. How I have longed to torment you, but I could not until now. My reward for your loyalty was to leave you to die on the plains, but here you are, back to annoy me once more. This time you will pay for your impertinence, and for destroying my demons."
A black dagger appeared in his hand, and Mirra cried out as he drew it across her chest, sniggering when bright blood flowed.
"Excellent. No power. This will be fun." Bane stepped towards him once more, but he wagged the dagger. "Do not be silly, boy."
The threat to Mirra riveted Bane's attention, and the widening of her eyes warned him. He spun around as an earth demon's granite club descended. Unprepared, he was smashed to the ground. The sword blade snagged on the stones and was wrenched from his grasp, falling with a soft peal. He rolled, bright flashes exploding in his eyes. The club thudded on the ground beside him. The Black Lord shouted furious orders at the demon, goading it to greater efforts. Bane rolled again, eluding the club, then sent a stream of fire in the demon's direction, sensing its demise in a flash of foul magic. Shaking his head, he rose to his hands and knees, his sight blurred.
"Look out!" Mirra's cry ended in a choked shriek, and Bane swung around as another brown form loomed over him. He reduced the demon to dust, which the wind whipped away. The world swam as Bane tried to reel to his feet, falling sideways. The thunder and lightning seemed to have died down, and the Black Lord's chuckle reached him through his pain, fuelling his rage. Something warm trickled down his face, and he clung to the swaying earth, a roaring in his ears.
"Now you will die, like the miserable human you are."
Bane spun and unleashed a sheet of unfocussed fire, annihilating three earth demons that rose together.
The Black Lord shouted, "You begin to annoy me, boy! I will kill her!"
Bane raised his head. "No!"
Arkonen's inky hand tightened on Mirra's throat, and she whimpered, rigid with terror. "Bane! Help me!"
Arkonen's choking grip tightened further, and she clawed at his shadow arm.
A lance of icy anguish tore Bane’s heart, and he staggered to his feet. "No! You will not!"
"Try to stop me," the Black Lord jeered, and laughed with triumphant, unholy glee. Bane lunged at him, but rebounded off a wall of black power that shot up between them.
The Black Lord's laughter rose to a grating cackle. "I did not teach you everything, stupid boy. In fact, I taught you very little."
Bane climbed to his feet again, wiping blood from his eyes. Arkonen was going to kill the only person who had shown him kindness and saved his life. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he realised that the pain he had experienced at her death had been the most terrible sorrow. He fought Arkonen to save the Overworld for her sake. Without her, there was no reason for him to do it, except vengeance.
The barrier would always remain between him and Arkonen; there was no way around it. He cast about for a way to distract the Dark Lord long enough to gain an advantage. He tried again to open the clouds, hoping that this would force Arkonen to release Mirra. The Black Lord held them in place without relinquishing his hold on the girl's throat, laughing. The barrier offered Bane access to the Black Lord's power, however.
Arkonen's laughter died when Bane gripped the barrier and drew on its power with all seven runes, which flared to yellow brilliance, shining through his shirt. The barrier became translucent, forcing Arkonen to feed it with a dark conduit that sprang into being before it collapsed. The barrier yielded far more power than Bane could hold, and he guided the excess upwards in a column of pure blackness that tore a hole in the clouds.
The Black Lord was compelled to enter the battle for the clouds once more, whilst maintaining the barrier as well. This forced him to Gather at a vast rate, and the double distraction made him relax his hold on Mirra, allowing her to breathe. Bane tried to figure out what he was going to do next. The power thrummed in his blood and heated his flesh, making sweat bead his brow. He had entered into a stalemate, trapping himself and Arkonen in a struggle that neither could win. Nor could either of them break away from it. The Black Lord because he would lose control of the clouds, and Bane because Mirra would die.
Bane sensed something behind him and flung his power outward in a rippling wave, but the earth demon flung its spear before he annihilated it. The weapon struck Bane in the back, and the impact thrust him against the barrier. He looked down at the iron spearhead that protruded from his belly.
Dark blood surged from the wound and soaked his trousers, dripping onto the blackened ground in a spreading crimson pool. His strength ran out with it, and then the pain hit him in a nauseating wave. His hold on the barrier weakened, and his fingers slipped from its edge. He fell to his knees, then collapsed sideways, the spear shaft preventing him from falling onto his back. It tore at the wound, sending fresh torture through him.
Bane gasped and bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out. He gripped the bloody spearhead, his knuckles whitening as he strived to stem the agony that exploded in his belly. Waves of cold darkness washed over him, threatening to rob him of his senses and condemn him to a swift death at Arkonen's hands. He fought it, resisting the strong urge to let his head sag to the ground and allow sweet oblivion to wash the pain away.
Arkonen released the barrier, which disintegrated into shards of shadow. Dropping Mirra as if she was a broken doll, he stepped forward and raised his fists to strike the fallen Demon Lord. Bane spread his hands, and a curved shield shimmered into being over him, absorbed the Black Lord's blows and drew power from them. Arkonen snarled with frustration, then smiled, certain of his victory.
"Now you die, snivelling human, like the weak mortal you are."
Mirra coughed and raised her head. Her throat ached from the Dark Lord's crushing grip and the black power knotted her stomach. With choked cry of horror, she crawled towards Bane, drawn by his pain. He turned his head and stretched out a hand.
"Mirra!"
Mirra floundered across the rough ground, not caring that sharp stones cut her hands and knees, desperate to reach him. Anguish and despair filled her, for even if she succeeded, she could not help him. Yet he seemed just as desperate to get to her, and dragged himself along, the spear tearing at his insides. Lightning crackled close by, and the stench of burning and corruption clogged her nose and fogged her mind.
The Black Lord laughed at their struggles, and Bane sagged. His hand lowered and the shield shimmered. She renewed her efforts to reach him, her shaking limbs barely strong enough to carry her. Hot rocks burnt her palms and knees, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. She crawled over the remnants of the earth demons Bane had destroyed, whose foul corruption permeated their scattered soil. Bane's head drooped,
wings of hair falling forward to hide his face, and she cried out in despair. The shield above him wavered and became translucent. The Black Lord raised his fist to deal the killing blow.
With an inrush of air, Bane vanished.
The Black Lord gave a shout of rage, his yellow eyes flaring, his red maw twisted as he glared at the spot where Bane had been. He turned his baleful gaze upon Mirra. "So, he abandons you to save himself. It seems he does not feel as much for you as I thought."
Mirra cowered as he stalked closer, tears of pain and sorrow coursing down her cheeks. Arkonen loomed over her, his visage twisted.
"I should kill you now, girl, but you may yet be useful. For the moment, you will live."
A host of earth demons sprang up all around them, and the Black Lord swept them with hot yellow eyes. "Send those cowardly mortals back to the temple. I want him killed while he is injured."
Several demons vanished back into the ground, and Arkonen gripped Mirra's arm and yanked her to her feet. Her empty stomach rebelled at his touch, and she retched, her head swimming. Her knees buckled, and only his hold on her arm kept her from falling. A surge of dark power engulfed her, and blessed oblivion slammed down.
Chapter Eight
The White Fire
The Demon Lord appeared in the centre of the chapel, the wave of dark power that accompanied him guttering the candles. The healers who were gathered there to pray recoiled with cries of fear, some turning to clutch their neighbours. Bane lay on his side, held there by the protruding spear shaft. Ellese jumped up with a horrified cry and rushed forward to fall to her knees beside him. The dark power that licked over him made her gag. He gasped, his skin ashen. Sweat dampened the wings of hair that framed his haggard face. His eyes turned blue as he leashed the power. Blood oozed from the great wound and pooled on the pale marble floor, running out at an alarming rate.
For a moment Ellese was too stunned to do anything but stare at him in dismay, then she barked orders at the healers, who ran to obey. Bane frowned at the spearhead, grasping it as if he intended to pull it out.
"Help me," he groaned.
"We will," Ellese pulled his hands away, amazed to hear those words from him. "Just relax."
"Mirra..."
"Where is she?"
"Arkonen has her."
"Goddess!" Ellese blinked away tears. "We could not stop her. When she heard you were injured, she ran like the wind. Tallis pursued her, but she vanished."
"It was a trick," he whispered.
"I thought as much."
Several young healers ran into the chapel, carrying clean cloths and bowls of boiled water. Ellese snatched a cloth from one and pressed it to the wound, wrapping it around the spear shaft to try to slow the bleeding. Tallis was similarly employed at his back, her face twisted as she shared his pain, her hands red with the Demon Lord's blood. Ellese raised her eyes to the Elder Mothers who had gathered, and they shook their heads.
"We have no power, and that is a fatal wound," a woman called Shayla stated, her mien despairing.
"I know that." Ellese chewed her lip, frowning. "We have to do something."
"He will not survive."
"If he dies, so do we all, sisters."
"What can we do?"
Ellese's gaze flicked to the altar. "The flame."
Several healers glanced at the holy fire, their expressions incredulous. "We cannot, the True Fire is too hard to control."
"In this, the hour of our greatest need, do you think the Lady will not help us?"
"You are expecting a miracle?"
"Perhaps I am," Ellese said. "If she wants to save the Overworld, she must help."
"He will die when the spear is pulled out."
"Perhaps not, given what he is."
Shayla frowned at Bane. "He is filled with the dark power."
"We can do it if he is unconscious."
As if to oblige her, Bane slumped. Ellese grabbed a young healer and pulled her closer, placing her hands on the cloth.
"Hold it. Lift him. We must get him to the altar. The rest of you control the flame. It must not strike him now."
Many hands took hold of Bane, and Ellese cradled his head as they lifted him. Tallis held the spear shaft so it did not tear the wound. The rest of the healers bowed their heads and hummed. Bane left a trail of blood as they carried him to the altar and laid him on the floor beside it.
"Pray, sisters," Ellese said, pushing Tallis aside to grasp the spear shaft. "Pray as you have never done before."
The healers sank to their knees, clasped their hands and closed their eyes, whispering fervent words. Ellese braced herself and glanced up at the eternal flame.
"Help us now, Lady."
Ellese pulled, and after a moment's reluctance, the spear slid from the wound with a wet, glugging noise. A gush of blood followed it, lapping at the base of the altar, and Bane's ashen skin became almost grey. Dropping the heavy weapon with a dull clang, she rolled him onto his back and ripped open his shirt to expose the hole in his belly. She glanced up at the flame, willing it to respond to their need. Their last hope of survival would die with Bane.
The healers who prayed nearby, rocking and wringing their hands, knew it just as well as she did. Surely the Lady would not abandon them now, after bringing them so far along this road to redemption? It seemed an eternity that she knelt there, joining her prayers to those of her sisters as Bane's lifeblood flowed out onto the floor. It could only have been a few minutes, however, for he did not have that long to live.
The eternal flame brightened, filling the chapel with a soft, pearly radiance, then flowed down from its wick and settled upon Bane's skin in a fiery mantle. Ellese was amazed, despite her hope, that it had answered their prayers. Such a thing had never happened before, and the healers fell silent, staring in awe at the white fire.
Ellese gestured at them to resume, and they renewed their efforts with redoubled fervour. Taking a deep breath, she thrust her hands through the pearly fire, laying them on Bane's skin. As far as she knew, no one had ever used the True Fire to heal, and she was not sure how to go about it. Despite the prayers, it slithered like quicksilver in her grasp, defying her to use it.
"Help me, Lady," she whispered.
A glimmer of golden radiance formed between the white fire and Bane's skin, soaking into her hands. She channelled it into him, encountering the dark power’s acquiescent barrier. At first it resisted her, and she concentrated harder.
A soft blue glimmer appeared within the wound as the black power strived to oust her magic, then the light slipped into him, and the bleeding slowed. She struggled to control the fire. The flame's power was far more difficult to use than the sun's benign light. The huge wound defied her, soaking up power without healing, until, at last, a faint glow appeared around it, and the torn organs healed.
With a groan, Bane woke. Ellese recoiled as blue fire engulfed the wound, burning her hands as she snatched them away. The Demon Lord opened his eyes and grimaced.
Ellese turned to Tallis. "Fetch a sleeping draught."
Bane tried to sit up and flopped back with a grunt, clasping the half-healed wound. Ellese held him down, gripping his chin to make him look at her.
"Bane, you are not healed yet. Lie still. We cannot heal you while you are awake. I have sent for a sleeping draught."
He frowned. "If you put me to sleep, you will all die."
"Why?"
"Arkonen will send his army to finish me off."
"We have to complete the healing."
"Then you had better pray I wake up before they get here."
She nodded. "We have been doing a lot of that lately."
Bane closed his eyes, too weak even to object to her touch. The shadows had burnt away the sweat that had sheened him, and made inroads into the blood too.
Ellese turned to the nearest healer. "Go and find Martal."
The woman left as Tallis hurried back in with a wooden cup. Ellese took it and gestured for her t
o lift his head. The young healer hesitated, then obeyed, and Ellese pressed the cup to his lips.
Tallis cradled the Demon Lord's head in her lap, his hair spilling over her hands. He drank slowly, coughing a little, and fresh blood oozed from his wound. She wondered why she had feared him so much before. He seemed so helpless now. When he finished the potion, Ellese set the cup aside and watched him, clearly concerned by his pallor and rapid, shallow breaths. A normal man would have perished from such a wound within minutes, and Bane's hold on life was precarious at best.
Martal strode in, his boots clacking. "So he failed!" He sounded almost triumphant, and Ellese turned to glare at him.
"Scum-sucking Underworld..." He trailed off when he spotted Bane. "Goddess!"
"When you have faced the Black Lord, Martal, you can fling insults at the only one of us who can and has," Ellese said.
"Is he alive?"
Bane opened his eyes. "You may yet rue those insults."
Tallis found that she was stroking Bane's glossy hair, and snatched her hands away. His eyes closed.
Ellese rose and faced Martal. "The Dark Lord's army is returning. You may have to hold them off until Bane wakes up again."
"My men are exhausted! Those who are not dead, that is."
"We have no choice."
"No, I suppose not." Martal frowned at Bane. "How long?"
"A few hours at most. As soon as he is asleep, we can complete the healing, then we just have to wait for him to wake up."
He glanced at the twisted iron spear, six feet long and as thick as a man's wrist at its widest point. "How the hell did someone get that into him? I thought he was all-powerful."
"A demon," Bane muttered. "I was... distracted."
Ellese took Martal's arm and turned him towards chapel door. "Go and rally your men. You are keeping him awake."
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