Dark God

by T C Southwell

  Ellese knew that this was the Black Lord's location, where he waited for Bane to walk into his trap. Bane turned as she came up to him.

  "Do not ever do that again, or next time I will burn you."

  She met his angry eyes. "I had to stop you, and if I have to do it again, I shall, regardless of your threats."

  He studied her. "As you see, I am still here."

  "Yes."

  "And you had better pray you are right, or you will all pay."

  "You know I am right." She moved closer, trying to read his tense face. "Mirra will be all right, although I weep for her suffering."

  "As you did when she suffered at my hands?"

  She nodded. "We all did, and our prayers gave her the strength she needed to withstand it, just as they do now."

  "That which she suffered at my hands is nothing compared to what she will suffer at his."

  "I know, but the Lady will protect her and give her strength."

  Bane turned to gaze at the distant, lightning-shot clouds, his expression grim. "She will need it."

  Arkonen reappeared in the rune room of the old temple, furious that he had waited for almost an hour, and Bane had not come. The glowing runes on the walls flared when they detected his presence, then dimmed as they identified him, for they were keyed to react only to Bane's aura. When Arkonen had realised that the Demon Lord had survived the wound the demon's spear had inflicted, he had carved two new runes with the power to identify Bane, so he could not rescue the girl.

  The runes would trigger the ancient Fetch, and cast any occupant of the room into the Underworld. The Fetch would also be activated by the use of dark power to create another channel. Arkonen had created the Fetch when he had built the temple, before the goddess' mages had trapped him below. Originally it had been intended as a trap for the Lady, and many of her worshippers had been brought to the room and tortured to try to lure her into it. He had waited in the Underworld, so she would think it safe to enter the room and save her people, and he had intended to trigger the trap from below.

  Instead, she had trapped him, a fact that still rankled. A rough shove sent the girl staggering to the bed, where she collapsed, sliding to the floor and curling up, pale and sick from the power that had surrounded her during the Move. He swung to face the priest droge, who cowered from his ire.

  "He did not come. Why not?"

  "Perhaps he is too weak, Lord." The droge smiled soothingly.

  "He hides in that damned place like a cur! I cannot Far See him as long as he refuses to leave the protection of the white power. Is he healed or is he dying?"

  The former priest spread his hands. "Time will tell, Lord."

  "And if he is healed, time makes him stronger."

  "But if he is too weak to fight, your army will overrun the abbey, and once the white fire is snuffed out he will be at your mercy."

  "If he is not, he will smash them again," Arkonen fumed.

  "Perhaps he is not as fond of the healer as you thought?"

  "No, he is."

  "Then it can only be that he is not strong enough to face you, and your army's attack will weaken him further. And, if he is too badly injured to fight them, victory will be yours in just a few hours."

  "Yes." The Black Lord nodded. "But he should have been dead by now, if he had not been healed."

  "Perhaps if you sacrifice the healer, he will come."

  "He is not watching. Deliberately, I suspect. All that will do is release her from her suffering. Her soul is not yet mine. But her corruption goes apace, and it will not be too long now before she is mine. Only then will she die." He turned to look down at Mirra with a satisfied smirk.

  "You are infinitely wise, Lord."

  Arkonen waved a hand, dismissing him, and studied the girl. The blackened, scaly skin had reached her elbow, and her hand was a twisted, clawed thing. It amazed him how slowly the transformation was taking place. His power was triumphing, however, and the vast amounts of dark magic now emanating from his new temple aided it. Soon enough she would be his. She looked ill, her skin dewed with sweat from the fever that raged within her as her body tried to fight the invasion of alien flesh. It would fail. Since it had taken hold, she had ceased to speak, and become dull-eyed and apathetic. He turned and strode out.

  Martal handed the spyglass to Ellese, his expression grim. After gazing through it, she lowered it.

  "So, the Dark Lord sends his army back to finish us off."

  "And they will. If anything, it looks like more than before."

  "Bane will protect us."

  "In case you have not noticed, he can barely stand."

  Ellese sighed. "It does not matter, although another fight will weaken him."

  "I do not think this one can be avoided." Martal peered through the spyglass again. "There are demons with them, as before."

  "To goad them on, force them to attack even though they fear Bane."

  Ellese glanced at the dark folk camped on the hallowed ground, who had stirred from their fires to stare at the approaching army. Their number seemed few compared to the horde that approached, and their glum expressions told of their trepidation. Many cast hopeful looks at the temple, clearly wishing that the Demon Lord would make an appearance. Ellese doubted that they had ever craved his presence before, and almost pitied them. Mirra, she reflected sadly, would have found pity in her heart for them, but the atrocities Ellese had witnessed them commit had hardened her heart.

  The distant host emerged from the forest, advancing swiftly this time. A pillar of fire appeared in their path as one of Bane's fire demons moved to confront them, swelling from the tiny flame it had been whilst it had waited. A lash of its eyes turned a dozen of the foremost dark people to ash, and those behind howled with terror. Many tried to flee, but their fellows penned them in, pushing forward relentlessly as the demons behind them drove them on.

  Two earth demons rose from the soil to stamp out the lives of any who came near them, their fists crushing bones and skulls with sickening thuds. The dark folk surged away from them, flowing around them like minnows around feeding sharks. Another fire demon appeared in their midst, incinerating dozens with flashes of bright fire and the burning lash of its blazing eyes. Screams tore the cold, smoky air, and faint, agonised cries came from the woods, where Bane's creatures of darkness lay in ambush.

  Still, they poured from the forest in an endless tide, and those who eluded the demons charged towards the hallowed ground. All of Bane's demons were now in the fray, and the Black Lord's earthen minions rose from the soil to confront them. Four fire demons drifted into the battleground as flames before swelling to awesome size and ferocity as they attacked the defenders. A fire demon battled two earth demons, burning chunks from them while the earth demons tore and stamped its flames, making it darken and swirl like a wind-blown campfire. One of the earth demons slumped into a pile of soil, and Martal grunted in surprise.

  "Do they destroy each other?"

  "No."

  Ellese swung around with a gasp. The Demon Lord stood behind them, watching the battle.

  "They go below when they are defeated, but they cannot rise again for a time. Their strength is drained," he explained.

  "Of course." Martal looked sour, hiding his shock at Bane's sudden appearance. "Such as they would not give their lives to protect an abbey."

  "They cannot destroy each other. Their retreat is involuntary. Only the Black Lord or I can destroy them."

  Martal took a surreptitious step away from Bane, raising the spyglass again. A slight smile curled the Demon Lord's lips. Ellese turned her attention back to the battle just as a band of trolls triggered one of Bane's traps. A flare of shadow rose in a grasping hand that snatched the entire group down, sucking in those on the edges as well while flattening those beyond them. A deep rumble shuddered through the earth, and Ellese shivered. The sight of so much death, even if it was too distant for her to sense, sickened her, and Bane's traps horrified her.

  Sev
eral hundred dark folk made it onto the hallowed ground and charged the temple, howling and shrieking. Bane's army rushed to meet them, and they came together with a sickening crunch of flesh and metal. A fierce, bloody battle broke out, which made many of the healers who watched turn away and cover their ears to block out the terrible screams. Ellese glanced at Bane, wondering if he was enjoying the carnage, but his expression was unreadable. Another trap was triggered, sucking a company of goblins into the pit to be incinerated. Three earth demons snuffed out a fire demon, and two more earth demons slumped into piles of soil.

  Bane walked away, then vanished. He reappeared beyond the holy ground, in full view of the enemy. Ellese’s breath caught as he raised his arms, expecting the black fire to pour from him in another orgy of death, but instead he shouted words that she could not hear. Most of the dark people stopped fighting and turned to stare at the Demon Lord, their enemies forgotten. A few continued to hack and stab at their foes, too deafened by the battle's din to notice what was going on. A hush fell upon the battleground, broken only by the moans of the injured, as those who had not heard Bane's words realised that something was amiss and stopped fighting to look up.

  Bane lowered his arms and spread his hands in a gesture that needed no explanation. From bitter experience they knew he could defeat them without breaking a sweat, which made their battle pointless. Only their worship of the Black Lord and their fear of his demons drove them into battle, but now an equal fear of the Demon Lord countered it. With a simple gesture, he offered them the one thing Arkonen did not. Mercy. Their hesitation was momentary, born more out of confusion and the dread of being alone, then those who had pledged themselves to Bane earlier fell to their knees and chanted his name. In a spreading wave, the entire army bowed down before him, threw down their weapons and pressed their brows to the cold, blasted earth.

  The demons continued to battle each other, and those that harried the army's heels attacked all who knelt. The Demon Lord raised an arm, and the dark folk before him whimpered. He pointed at Arkonen's demons, and a bolt of darkness arced across the gap. It struck a fire demon in an explosion of flame and shadow, destroying it. Those around it departed almost as swiftly as their kin, sinking into the earth, or, in the case of the fire demons, into the fires from which they had risen.

  Bane lowered his arm and gazed around, searching for invisible air demons while he let the vast army grovel a little longer. Turning away, he walked back to the abbey, and the dark people did not rise until he had vanished into it. They stood uncertainly, unsure of what to do next. Some helped the injured, while others wandered to the edge of the wood and sat, staring at the abbey, clearly stunned by what had just happened and amazed that they still lived.

  Tallis took second watch in Bane's room that night, relieving the healer who had sat beside him since he had retired earlier. Since he did little but sleep and doze, recovering his strength, she wondered why he needed watching. Perhaps to serve him if he woke, or to ensure that he did not slip away during the night. Certainly she would not be able to stop him, only inform Ellese of his departure. Bane had shown no inclination to leave, however, and his sleep was deep and peaceful.

  The Black Lord, it seemed, no longer attacked him in his dreams now that he was not drugged. Ellese had rebuked her for her verbal attack on the Demon Lord, reminding her of their need of his aid and remonstrating with her never to do it again. In spite of this, she was now only allowed to watch him at night. Bane shifted and sighed, and Tallis' eyelids drooped.

  A faint, distant crash jerked her from her doze, and she straightened. Bane's eyes opened a slit, and she held her breath, wondering if he would awaken, but they drifted closed again. She looked at the doorway, wondering what had caused the noise, torn between curiosity and duty. The sound had come from the kitchens, and, as she listened, another muted clatter reached her.

  With a glance at the bed, she picked up the lamp beside her and went to investigate. The corridor's cold floor chilled her bare feet, and she hesitated outside the kitchen door, listening. Faint scraping and grunting sounds came from within, sending shivers down her spine. She considered rousing another healer in case whatever lurked in the kitchen was dangerous, then mustered her courage and pushed the door wide.

  Four rock howlers turned sharp, feral eyes upon her and froze in the act of plundering the pantry. The light from the banked hearth rimed their red fur, and a pot of flour spilt like snow across the floor. One crouched beside it, scooping it into his mouth. His black, dog-like face was almost completely white with flour, and his mouth was stuffed full. Two others munched raw potatoes, while the fourth had his hand in a jar of honey.

  For a breathless moment no one moved, then the floury howler bared his teeth and advanced in a threatening manner. Tallis stood frozen, certain that she should run but unable to move. The rock howler flattened its ears and cringed, whimpering, and the other three cowered. Released from the spell, Tallis turned to run and fetch help, but collided with something exceedingly hard and recoiled with a gasp.

  Bane stood in the doorway, his eyes chips of ice as he surveyed the howlers. He rubbed his chest where the flame of her lamp had licked his bare skin during their collision, for, although he had donned his shirt, he had not fastened it. The fire had not burnt him.

  "Thieves," he said.

  Tallis glanced back at the howlers, noticing that they were emaciated, their ribs visible through their thick red pelts. They continued to eat with desperate hunger, two of them now shovelling flour into their mouths. Bane stepped around her to confront the creatures, which cowered and whined, stuffing food into their mouths at a faster rate. Knowing that they were about to be chased from their feast, they seemed determined to get as much food into their stomachs as they could, and she pitied them. Afraid that Bane was going to burn them to a crisp, Tallis grabbed his shirt.

  "Wait. Do not hurt them. They are hungry."

  "I know that," he said. "And if they are not stopped we all will be."

  "No, we have enough to share."

  Tallis jumped when one of the rock howlers spoke clearly in a gruff, raspy voice.

  "Lord, we hunger. We have no food. All is dead."

  She had not thought that rock howlers could speak, and found the rasping words oddly chilling.

  Bane turned to her. "Rock howlers do not eat meat. You cannot possibly feed them all; there are hundreds, maybe thousands of them. They will starve eventually."

  "Then send them back to their homes. Surely they will find food there?"

  "I doubt it. Almost all the vegetation is dead now."

  "They may have stores."

  The floury rock howler made a soft fluting sound. "We do."

  "The Black Lord's demons will hunt them," Bane said.

  Tallis nodded. "But some will survive, especially if they split up. If they stay here, they will all starve."

  Bane turned back to the howlers, who continued to stuff food into their mouths even as they watched him fearfully. The one with the honey jar sucked the sticky sweetness from his hand, then stuck it in the pot again.

  The Demon Lord shrugged and addressed the rock howlers. "Leave tomorrow then. Return to your warrens."

  The four prostrated themselves. "Thank you, Lord," one rasped.

  "Take some food," Tallis told them. "And tomorrow we will bring you more for your journey."

  The howlers' eyes flicked to her in surprise and sudden hope, and Bane snorted. "They eat a lot."

  "We will give them what we can."

  "Do not make promises you cannot keep, healer. Your Elder Mother may not be so generous."

  "She will."

  Bane frowned at the thieves. "What do the others eat?"

  "Our people starve. The others eat the dead," the floury howler said.

  Tallis' eyes widened in shock, and her stomach heaved. "Goddess."

  Bane smiled. "I thought as much. At least you will not have to feed them too."

  She gulped. "What will they do
when they run out of bodies?"

  "Kill the injured, sick and weak."

  "That is horrible."

  "They are hungry." He shot the howlers a hard glance. "Get out."

  With a soft scurry of paws, the howlers vanished through the window at the far end of the kitchen, several potatoes and the pot of honey vanishing with them. Bane yawned and ran a hand through his hair, then returned to his room, Tallis padding behind him.

  The next morning, she made her report to Elder Mother, explaining what had caused the mess in the kitchen. When she finished, Ellese rose and went to stare out of the window at the blackened landscape that brooded under the roiling clouds, illuminated by the glow of the distant volcano and occasional flashes of lightning. Ash still fell in a whispering rain, blanketing everything with greyness.

  "So, you pity these creatures, yet you cannot forgive Bane, although what they did was worse."

  "They cannot be blamed. They only did as he ordered."

  "And he obeyed the Black Lord." Ellese sighed. "I am loath to give those monsters our food, but you are right, we must."

  "Thank you, Mother."

  "You will oversee its distribution."

  "Yes, Mother."

  "Ask Bane to help you. The others will try to take it. We do not want a war breaking out between them."

  "Yes, Mother."

  Ellese turned and nodded, dismissing her.

  Some of Martal's soldiers volunteered to carry the bags of flour and potatoes out of the temple, where hundreds of rock howlers waited. As soon as the men dumped the bags, the howlers rushed to tear them open and devour the flour. Tallis watched in dismay as they fought over the food, clawing at each other and shrieking, trampling much of the precious flour into the ash. Bane had not yet made an appearance, and her shouted orders fell on deaf ears. Worse, the trolls and goblins approached, muttering darkly as they watched the howlers feed. The men carried bags of potatoes out and dumped them on the ground, and half the howlers raced to rip them open. At least the potatoes would not be wasted in the ash, but the melee ensured that only the strongest ate.