Demon Lord III - Grey God

by T C Southwell

  "You know we do not drink wine," Mirra said.

  "Which is why we brought some." Grem grinned, then cast a sheepish look at Lyriasharin, who raised her brows with a smile.

  "Good thinking." Bane headed for the feast table.

  "I hope you are not going to drink too much," Mirra muttered as she walked beside him.

  "Would I do that on our wedding day?"

  "I would not put it past you."

  Bane chuckled, and the goddess went to a shady tree at the edge of the forest and settled upon the grass. Grem reappeared with a flagon of wine, and the celebrants filled their plates from the platters on the table, then found comfortable spots on the grass to sit and eat. Bane sat beside Lyriasharin, with Mirra on his left. Ellese joined their group, and for a while they ate in silence, the goddess sipping ambrosia. When it became clear that the other members of the group were not about to start a conversation with Lyriasharin, Bane did so.

  Mirra listened to them, taking the opportunity to let her eyes linger on her husband's face. Over the past two years, she had come to know Bane far better, and her love had grown stronger than she would have thought possible. The effects of his upbringing, and wielding the darkness, had left him distrustful of everyone save her, his father and Grem, and they all strived to be worthy of it. It had taken many months for him to understand what a real joke was, unlike the cruel tricks that served as such in the Underworld, and to laugh at one. In this, Grem had proven to be the most effective teacher.

  The grey-eyed warrior had gradually eroded Bane's innate dislike for being teased, and had even, on occasion, played pranks on him, which had provoked angry reactions at first. Grem's good-natured, back-slapping frankness and total disregard for Bane's anger had taught Bane that such things were not intended as insults or meant to be degrading. The turning point had come when Grem had enlisted Bane's aid to play a prank on Mithran. The resulting levity, along with his father's jovial reaction, had finally convinced Bane that such things were intended to be enjoyed.

  Mirra was grateful to Grem, who had proven to be more courageous than Mithran. He had been far too serious in his treatment of his son at first, and Bane's demeanour towards his father had been too formal. Bane seldom used his powers, and then only for serious pursuits, or to please her. It had taken almost a year for Grem to persuade Bane to play a prank on Mirra. Grem had informed her that Bane had refused on the grounds that she would be upset, frightened or hurt by it. With her help, Grem had convinced Bane to go along with a minor prank that had been the source of much hilarity for several months, the very mention of it bringing gales of giggles from her. Since then, he had played a few rather lame tricks on her, and had been delighted by her amusement. What most amazed her was that he had not once used his powers to trick her, which would have made him the ultimate prankster. Bane had joined Grem in several other amusing pranks, and discovered the joy of such simple pleasures.

  Grem had become part of the family without invitation or protest, but Mirra knew that, had he attempted to leave, Bane would have asked him to stay. Grem was somewhat older than Bane, and just the kind of mature male friend he needed, and he had profited from the friendship. Grem appeared to possess a great font of affection for Bane, and had taught him much about the Overworld and its people, as well as their customs, quirks and weaknesses.

  Mirra's thoughts strayed to the coming night, and her heart quickened. For almost two years, Bane had refused to bring the wedding date forward, confining her to no more than an occasional chaste kiss or hug. It had bothered her so much that she had spoken to Ellese about it on one of her visits to her old abbey. Elder Mother had assured her that it was just Bane’s way of showing his respect for the Overworld’s traditions, since Mirra was too young.

  Mirra became aware that Bane had shifted away, removing the warmth of his leg against hers, and glanced at him. He rubbed his brow as if he had a headache, yet she sensed no pain from him. Setting aside his empty plate, he rose, gesturing to the others to remain seated, and turned to the goddess.

  "Will you walk with me, My Lady?"

  Lyriasharin smiled and rose. "Of course."

  Mirra longed to go with him, but did not dare to ask, since he had not invited her.

  Chapter Two

  Power

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Bane turned to Lyriasharin, looking perturbed.

  "What is it, My Lord?" she enquired.

  "I do not know, exactly. I sensed something, when I was sitting beside Mirra, almost as if..."

  "You could read her mind?"

  "Yes. Am I supposed to be able to do that?"

  She smiled, but her eyes were concerned. "This is only happening to you now? Your powers are coming upon you slowly, My Lord, perhaps too slowly."

  "So this is something I should be able to do?"

  "Long since. This power usually manifests at puberty."

  Bane frowned. "A person's thoughts are their own. I do not want to know them."

  "One day you may need to, but, until then, you will have to learn to block them out."

  "How do I do that?"

  "It is difficult to explain. Think about it, and it will come to you." She turned and wandered on, and Bane fell into step beside her. "Your next power should be the ability to read people's minds at a distance. When you do, they will feel it, so if you must experiment, do it on someone who knows what you are doing and will not be alarmed."

  "Why do you say it is happening too slowly?"

  "You are already twenty-two. By our standards you are still a child, but by human standards you are a man. This power is one that usually comes much sooner. Something is slowing your development down to a crawl."

  "What does it mean?"

  She shook her head. "Without knowing its cause, I cannot say. But it may have an adverse effect on your development. Gaining the basic powers at such a late stage makes it more difficult for you to adjust to them, since your mind is more set in its ways. You may unwittingly seek to block these changes, and in so doing, stunt your true potential, or over-compensate, and make them stronger than they should be."

  "How many more... powers am I going to get?"

  "That is impossible to know. Some of us have more than others, and different ones. These are the basic ones you are receiving now, we all have them."

  He sighed. "This could not have happened at a worse time."

  "Yes, you should warn Mirra."

  "Could she block it?"

  "No one can do that."

  Bane stopped, glancing back. "We should return."

  "Yes, you should, but I will leave you now, My Lord."

  "As you wish."

  Lyriasharin stroked his cheek. "Mirra is a lucky girl."

  Bane tried unsuccessfully to hide his embarrassment, and she vanished with a skirl of laughter.

  Dusk's shadows crept across the meadow when he returned to the edge of the trees, and fires had been lighted. Three young healers played a merry tune on drums, pipe and fiddle, and others danced around the fires. Grem and his father had been persuaded to join the revellers, and Mirra ran up to him, taking his hand.

  "Where is the Lady?"

  "She left."

  A little of her joy ebbed away, but she nodded. "Of course, she dislikes the darkness." She dragged him towards one of the bonfires. "Come dance with me, husband."

  Bane dug in his heels, eyeing the cavorting dancers. "Like that? I think not."

  "Do not be such a stuffed shirt. It is fun."

  "I will fall over my feet. I have never danced."

  "Then it is time you learnt."

  A powerful sensation of leaping and twirling, mingled with a sense of exhilaration and joy, assailed Bane. He yanked his hand from her grasp.

  Mirra looked concerned as he clasped his brow. "What is wrong?"

  The sensations vanished, and he rubbed his forehead. "I am receiving a new power."

  "What is it?"

  "When I touch you, I can read your mind."
>
  She stared at him in stunned disbelief, then her brow wrinkled. "Of all the powers you could get, that is the one I really do not need you to have."

  "I know. I have to learn how to block it."

  "And how long is it going to take you to do that?"

  "I do not know."

  She scanned his despondent face, her frown fading. "I am sorry, I should not complain. It is not your fault. You can practice making blocks on me, if you wish."

  "Just do not think about dancing while I do it. It made me quite queasy."

  "All right." She took his hand, and they sat on the grass, Mirra watching him as he waited for the next vision. It came swiftly, a clear picture of his face, and he frowned.

  "I do not look like that."

  Mirra's eyes widened. "Goddess! That is amazing.

  "It is unpleasant."

  Bane rubbed his temples, trying to find a way to block the vision. For several minutes it remained unaffected, and his head began to pound. Mirra's healing ended the discomfort. As Bane concentrated on banishing the vision, he became aware of her thoughts just below it, filled with concern for him, mixed with something that at first confused him. After a moment, he realised what it was, and almost jerked his hand away again, hating the invasion of her innermost thoughts and emotions. His dislike of it caused his willpower to rise up against it like a wall of darkness, and a sharp pain lanced his brain. The vision vanished, along with her thoughts. Mirra winced and bit her lip, but he relaxed with a sigh.

  "I think I did it."

  "That was quick."

  Bane nodded, then grimaced as the block collapsed, allowing her thoughts to rush in again. With a groan, he pulled his hand free. "It has returned. I do not think I should experiment on you."

  "Why not?"

  "I can see too deep, beyond your surface thoughts."

  "I have no secrets from you." She took his hand again.

  Bane opened his mouth to protest, then her thoughts rushed in, filled with concern and love, a thread of uncertain longing beneath it. Closing his eyes, he tried to block it out, and it dimmed, becoming less distinct, but no matter how hard he struggled, he could not banish it. His head pounded again, and Mirra soothed it, but after several minutes he tugged his hand free.

  "I cannot. Perhaps it is too soon."

  "Maybe your ability to block it will come by itself, later."

  "I hope so. Before I went for a walk with Lyriasharin I only got fuzzy sensations and emotions, now I am seeing clear visions and even memories."

  Mirra studied him. "That is fast. Let us hope your ability to block it goes apace."

  "Indeed. I dislike this power."

  "It could be useful once you have mastered it."

  "Until then, it is a problem."

  She nodded. "How did you do it just now?"

  "My will blocked it, but I do not think that is how it is supposed to be done."

  Tallis ran up, panting, and stopped before them. "Come and dance, you are missing all the fun."

  Mirra shook her head, but Bane waved a hand. "Go."

  Sensing that he wished to be alone, she rose and allowed Tallis to tug her towards the fires. Her friend noticed her glum expression, and her grin faded.

  "What is it?"

  Mirra sighed, ignoring the dancers who cavorted around them to the tune of the fiddle and drums. When she had explained the problem, Tallis shook her head in wonder and dismay.

  "That is terrible. It could not have happened at a worse time."

  "No. But it developed in only a few hours, so perhaps he can learn to block it just as quickly. We have time."

  "And if he cannot, you have the rest of your lives."

  Mirra gazed at Bane, who had bowed his head, and appeared to be deep in thought. "This is my wedding night."

  Tallis followed her eyes. "I am sure he will do it, after all, he is a -"

  "Tal! Do not keep reminding me, please."

  "Sorry." Tallis looked remorseful for a moment, then grabbed Mirra's hands and dragged her into the thick of the dancers, tugging and bouncing until she joined in. The exhilaration of the dance soon swept away her worries, and she laughed as she leapt and twirled, spinning around the fire. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the grass, and sparks danced around her like tiny stars.

  When at last she stopped, her legs ached and her breath came in gasps. She glanced over at Bane, who was deep in conversation with Mithran, and not watching her as she had hoped. Tallis followed her gaze, then took her hand and led her towards the feast table.

  "Let us have some strawberries and cream."

  Bane shook his head. "No, it is not right."

  "Come on, Son, I want you to," Mithran urged. "It's better than doing it to Mirra, and I have nothing to hide. If you find some memories of your mother, you deserve to share them. You've got to get this thing under control."

  Grem padded up and flopped down beside Mithran, mopping his brow with his sleeve before taking a gulp of wine from the cup in his other hand. "What's going on?"

  Mithran explained, and Grem's brows shot up. "Wow. You can try it on me if you like."

  Bane frowned. "Why is everyone so keen for me to read their minds?"

  Grem shrugged. "Just wanted to help."

  Mithran shot Bane a reproachful look. "Would you rather we refused to let you touch us?"

  "I would understand, but I would not prefer it, and you do not have to volunteer."

  "Well, it seems we want to."

  "Damn right," Grem said, revealing the fact that he had imbibed a little too much wine.

  Mithran put his arm around Bane's shoulders and leant closer. "Well, what do you see?"

  Bane closed his eyes as a vision of a young girl rushed into his mind, her bright blue eyes alight with glee, her raven hair flying around her head as she ran into his arms and embraced him passionately. He leapt to his feet with a startled oath, freeing himself of Mithran's touch and the vision.

  Mithran gazed up at him, looking abashed. "I guess that wasn't the most appropriate thing to show you."

  "No, it was not."

  "Sorry."

  Grem put down his cup and stood, swaying. "I reckon what you need is summing you wanna block out, but that you can't so easy."

  Mithran smiled. "Tie him up?"

  "Nar, I reckon we just sit on him a bit."

  "You are both drunk," Bane said.

  Grem raised his brows. "Mebbe."

  "Trouble with him," Mithran pointed out, "is he's stronger than the two of us put together."

  "Aye, there is that," Grem agreed, "but if he knows what's good for 'im, he won't put up too much of a struggle."

  "That's a bloody good idea." Mithran jumped up, and Bane backed away, eyeing them.

  "No, it is not."

  Grem glanced at Mithran. "Don't he have... whadayacallit... modes? Like combat mode, normal mode, that sort of thing?"

  Mithran shrugged. "Search me."

  "No, I do not," Bane said.

  "Good." Grem nodded. "Get his legs."

  Bane swung to face his father as Mithran circled him, grinning. "This is a bad idea."

  Grem chuckled. "I think it's bloody brilliant."

  "You're a genius, Grem," Mithran averred.

  Grem feinted, drawing Bane's attention, and Mithran tackled him around the legs, yanking them from under him. Bane sprawled on his back with a grunt, and Grem flung himself onto Bane's chest, straddled him and pinned his wrists. Bane fought the urge to laugh at their rough horseplay, then the vision filled his mind, and he grimaced.

  Gasps from several healers made Mirra glance around, and she froze in astonishment, a spoonful of strawberries and cream poised before her mouth, which fell open. Bane lay prone on the grass, Grem seated on his chest and Mithran on his legs, both looking smug and a little triumphant. The strawberry on her spoon slid off and landed in the bowl with a soft plop, breaking her fascination. She put down the bowl and started towards them, but someone grabbed her arm, and she turned to
find Tallis holding her back.

  "Leave them, Mir."

  "What in the world are they doing to him?"

  "Whatever it is, I am sure it will not harm him."

  "It is not him I am worried about. They are both drunk."

  Tallis tilted her head. "You think he will hurt them?"

  "No." Mirra gazed at the trio. "But it still does not strike me as a terribly good idea. Even those two have never dared to try anything like that before, except when Mithran... when he and Bane first met. But I would like to know what they are up to."

  A battle scene filled Bane's head, making him writhe and flinch as a soldier beside him died in a spray of blood and a gurgling scream, torn apart by a creature of darkness. The heavy sword made his arms ache, and blood ran down it in a thin stream. He raised it as a malformed grim rushed at him, toothy jaws agape, and thrust it into its neck, severing the jugular with a swift lunge, then yanked it free to lop off the head of a vampire as it swooped at him. He had no control over the scene or his actions; they were ghosts from Grem's past, memories of the historic battle he had survived.

  The massive conflict surged and ebbed as the dark creatures were cut down and more rushed in to take their places. Smoke, screams and the stench of death filled the air, blood dripped from his hands and chain mail and ran down his face in sticky rivers. He tried to banish the vision, making it dim and grow hazy, but it remained. Howls came from his right, and he glanced that way, as did his foes. A black-clad man strode from the temple, his ankle length, crimson lined cloak flaring. Dread and loathing filled Bane's heart at the sight of him, mixed with desperate hope. The distant stranger gestured, and shadows poured from his hands, consuming the fleeing dark creatures in bursts of lurid fire and dull concussions as some of the beasts exploded in sprays of foul gore.

  Bane groaned, wanting to free his wrists from the hands that gripped them, but he resisted the urge.

  The creatures of darkness surged away from the battlements, and a bolt of shadow ploughed into some nearby, killing them with shrieks and splatters of blood and guts. Bane reeled back, raising an arm, the heavy sword sagging in his tired fist. Relief filled him as the dark army turned tail and fled, trampling each other in their desperate bid to escape the horror that had been unleashed upon them. His breath rasped in a dry throat, and dozens of wounds ached on his arms and chest. He glanced at the black-clad man, who strode towards the distant forest, sending streaks of dark fire after the fleeing army with casual flicks of his hands.