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Authors: T C Southwell

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BOOK: Demon Lord
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The demon steed snorted fire,
its flaming mane writhing hotly. Yalnebar thrust out an arm to push
the stallion aside, but the demon steed dug in its hooves, holding
the demon back. The strange conflict that was arising amazed Mirra.
A demon fighting a demon steed. The situation was hopeless,
however. Bane may have ordered the demon steed to guard her, but he
had not known he would perish in the cave. In time, more demons
would rise to kill her, and the demon steed could not fight them
all.

Yalnebar heaved against the
immobile demon steed. "Orriss, I do not have a lot of time. The
Black Lord will be furious with you. I know Bane summoned you, but
the slut must die."

Orriss snorted, shaking its
burning mane, and the earth demon brought more arms into play,
grasped the stallion's neck and twisted. The demon steed lowered
its head and pushed the demon hard, making him stagger back,
scorched earth crumbling from his arms as the stallion slipped from
his grasp. He brushed the loose earth off, obviously annoyed, and
charged the demon steed, which lunged to meet him, the two crashing
together with a strange thud. Both recoiled, Yalnebar shedding
clods of soil, Orriss' fiery hide hissing. Mirra wondered what she
should do. Fleeing was pointless. The demon would find her, and no
one could protect her from it, save Bane. The demon steed would not
be able to hold the earth demon back for long, and then more demons
would come.

Mirra winced as the two clashed
again, Yalnebar losing more soil, Orriss' fire dimming. She
wondered if they would destroy each other, but surely the demon was
more powerful than the demon steed. With a sick feeling that her
time was running out, Mirra watched the diabolic battle with
horrified fascination.

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Revelation

 

Bane moved an arm, amazed that
he was unharmed. The dark power flowed through him like a river,
being consumed rapidly just to keep him alive. Using mind and body,
he sat up, his flesh passing through the rock like it was treacle.
Rock walking was something his father had forbidden him to do, and
he had only tried it once before. The strain was immense, already
his temples pounded and his flesh burnt. He must get free of the
rock before his power ran out, for he could not perform a Gather
whilst rock walking. He wished his first instinct had been to Move
and not run, now it was no longer an option.

Bane forced his incorporeal body
through the stone, rising to his feet. The spell had worked just in
time, he only hoped he was not bleeding. Not breathing was strange.
His lungs longed for air, but in this state he did not need it. He
waded through the rock, which required more effort than walking
along the seabed. The stone was far harder to penetrate than water,
even with his body magically transformed to a ghostly state.

One that he
could not maintain for long. The dark power surged forth to sustain
the spell, and he tried to walk faster. Pockets of air allowed him
spurts of speed, but then he slammed into rock again, moving
through it in ultra-slow motion. The runes burnt, ignited by the
need for power, adding a little fuel to his dwindling strength. He
tried to remember how far it was to the cave entrance, but he was
not sure how far he had run before the rocks had hit him.
Not far,
he assured
himself,
not far
.

 

Mirra stared at the two
combatants with growing amazement. She knew that when the demon won
it would kill her, but the fight Orriss put up surprised her. Why
did it bother? It was only a matter of time. Why did it fight so
fiercely, its fire dimmed to a dull red glow, its burning mane and
tail gone? Yalnebar had lost chunks of soil, and one arm had
crumbled away entirely while another was missing half its length.
She would have thought he would fight carefully, preserving himself
while exhausting the demon steed, but he appeared to be battling
with increasing desperation.

Yalnebar lashed out with a
hammer blow, knocking the weakened demon steed aside, and advanced
on Mirra. The demon steed picked itself up and raced between them
again, but some sudden urgency seemed to galvanise Yalnebar. He
thrust Orriss out of the way almost contemptuously, and the
stallion was unable to hold him. Mirra backed away. It was one
thing to realise that she was about to die, but quite another to
actually stare death in the face. She turned and ran, then stopped,
knowing it was useless. Yalnebar hurried after her, his remaining
arms reaching for her. Mirra tried Bane's trick, waving a hand at
him.

"Begone!"

The demon smiled, his lips
dribbling soil, and lunged for her, his fingers sliding off her
shoulder as she twisted away. She fled towards the soldiers, who
scattered, diving into the shrubbery. Yalnebar staggered as the
demon steed charged him, slammed into his side and threw him off
balance. He growled and pushed Orriss away, his stone eyes never
leaving his prey. Mirra knew she was merely buying time, darting to
and fro, but she was unable to give up. The demon steed's head was
still proudly raised, but it was transparent, its power
exhausted.

Mirra dashed away as the earth
demon lumbered up to her, trying to think of a way to escape it.
The soldiers watched the spectacle silently, crouched amongst the
sheltering shrubs at the edge of the gorge. She turned and sprinted
towards the cave on aching legs, gaining a little ground before
veering towards the canyon wall. The earth demon was fast when it
was allowed to gain speed, but too ponderous to change direction as
quickly as she did. By darting to and fro, she stayed just out of
its reach. She prayed for some sort of miracle, not knowing what,
but despair spread cold fingers through her as she tired. She
shrieked as the demon came dangerously close, its fingers brushing
her shoulder, leaving a smear of dirt.

The troops murmured and stared
past Mirra and the demon, but she was so intent on escape she
barely noticed.

"Yalnebar!"

Mirra jumped as Bane's voice
cracked across the clearing, and the demon stumbled to a halt. With
a glad cry she ran to him, amazed that he stood before the rock
fall, although his terrible appearance frightened her. She stopped
a few feet from him, staring.

Bane's face was chalk white, his
shadowed eyes crimson, and the blue irises brilliant. Sweat
streaked his skin, mixed with dust and blood, and his hair hung in
lank, filthy strings. The runes on his chest glowed redly through
the material of his tunic, and he tottered a little as he glared at
the demon. He ignored her, waiting as Yalnebar turned to face
him.

"How dare you?" His voice was
low and hoarse. "How dare you?" He glanced at the demon steed, a
pulse beating at his temple, his breath deep and rasping. "You
fight my demon steed? Disobey my orders?"

Yalnebar appeared to shrink. "I
obey the Black Lord."

"It seems my father is prepared
to go to any lengths, even waiting for something to befall me, then
rushing you here."

The demon nodded. "It seems
so."

Bane swayed, placing a hand on
the rocks to steady himself. "I thought you had learnt your lesson
last time."

Yalnebar's jet eyes glittered.
"You seem a little... weak, Bane. Did you have a difficult time in
the cave?"

"Would you like to try me?"

The earth demon shrugged.
"Perhaps you cannot stop me."

Bane smiled crookedly. "I can
always stop you, demon." He made a curt gesture. "Begone!"

To Mirra's surprise, the demon
slumped slowly, its form blending, its face smearing into mud. It
tried to speak, but no words issued from its smudging mouth, then
it slouched sideways and collapsed. Bane leant against the rocks,
closing his eyes, and she thought he would pass out.

"Bane! Are you all right?" She
gripped his arm, deeply concerned.

Bane jerked away. "Do not touch
me, damn you."

Mirra stepped back, but noticed
that the sensation of evil within him had diminished to almost
non-existence. Bane pushed himself away from the rocks,
teetering.

"Mord!"

The troll scuttled up, holding
out the jar. Bane smeared the green paste on the bleeding cut on
his temple, then threw the jar at the troll.

"Fetch the potions, now!"

As Mord ran off, Mirra asked,
"What are you going to do?"

"I am powerless, you moron. I
had to walk through rock to get out of that damned cave. My father
will send another demon, and if I do not perform a Gather I will
not even have the strength to banish it."

"But you need to rest."

Bane gripped her shoulders and
shook her. "Do you want to die?"

"No." Again the lack of
corruption in his touch startled her.

"I will not let my father win.
He has sunk to low tactics. I will not allow it." He pushed her
away, tottering back himself. Sitting on a rock, he watched Mord
race back with the pack. Mirra knelt beside him, placing a hand on
his arm again. He shook her off.

"Will you stop pawing me?"

"It is the power," she
whispered. "That is what makes you sick."

"I know that. Let go of me!"

Mirra held onto him this time,
sensing that he was too weak to do anything serious about it. "The
evil I have felt in you, the power that pushes me away, it is
gone." Wonder filled her.

"It will soon be back," he said,
prying her hand off his arm.

"No! You must not."

Bane glared at her. "Do not
presume to tell me what to do."

"Please, Bane. It is killing
you."

"Get away from me, witch." He
pushed her hard enough to make her sit down in the dust, jarring
her tailbone. She bit her lip as Mord set out the two jars and
bottle, longing to argue with him but knowing the futility of
trying. Mord retreated to join the men, who watched from the safety
of the bushes. Bane glanced at them and scowled. He preferred to
perform a Gather in private, and raised his voice to a hoarse
shout.

"You men, leave! If any of you
watch this, I will strike you blind!" He gestured towards the edge
of the chasm. "Go!"

There was a willing stampede
down the canyon, the men pushing and shoving in their haste to get
away, and soon Mirra and Bane were the only ones left. Bane
stripped off his cloak and shirt, then drew his dagger. Dirt and
sweat streaked his skin, and the rune scars glowed faintly still,
flaring when he sliced into them. She tried to endure the pain,
gritting her teeth while he carved the first rune, but hot tears
trickled down her face, and she whimpered. His eyes snapped up to
impale her with an icy glare.

"If you do not like it, leave.
Go and whine somewhere else. I have no wish to hear it."

Mirra wondered if he no longer
wished to torture her, or simply found her an annoyance. When the
power was at a low ebb within him, he was definitely less evil,
calmer and more approachable. It was as if the dark magic warped
his reason, filled his mind with loathsome thoughts and a love of
torture and death. His anger remained, however, as did his
unshakable faith in the Black Lord, causing him to take up the
power again.

Mirra moved away, sitting where
she could watch him without sharing his suffering too much. As he
Gathered the dark power his lips became that unhealthy shade of
red, and his eyes lost most of their humanity. Even from where she
sat, it sickened her, the shadows becoming a part of him, where
they did not belong.

When at last the Gather ended,
Bane sagged, the empty blood-cup falling with a clatter. Mirra
hurried over to him, his sick pallor and the lines of strain and
pain on his face worrying her. When she tried to touch him, he
pushed her away and sat up. She knew that sheer willpower and pride
fuelled his movements, and his brow glistened with sweat.

"He comes."

Mirra turned to watch the black
circle form on the ground, the soil whining as it burnt. The earth
demon that rose from the soil, formed out of it, was a stranger.
Mirra had been expecting Mealle, since Yalnebar could not return
after he had been banished. Bane watched the demon with dull eyes,
waiting until it was fully formed.

"Draynabesh."

"Young Bane," the demon grated.
"I was told you needed help."

Bane's lips twisted in a
contemptuous sneer, and he raised his chin. "Did my father send
you?"

"No, Yalnebar said you were
hurt."

Bane's sneer became a mirthless
smile. "I, hurt? Impossible, Draynabesh."

The demon moved closer, his
stone eyes calculating. "May I aid you?"

The Demon Lord nodded at the
demon steed. "Give Orriss your power."

Draynabesh sidled towards Mirra.
"You did not summon me."

"You refuse?"

"I came to help you, not
Orriss."

"I do not need your help."
Bane's eyes glinted.

"But you do. You need to be rid
of a problem." The demon edged closer to Mirra, who quelled her
longing to flee its looming presence. The demon was so intent on
her that it did not note the significance of the pots, or Bane's
lack of a shirt.

"Leave her alone," Bane
said.

Draynabesh ignored the order,
now close enough to raise a huge fist to crush Mirra. She yelped
and grabbed Bane, releasing him with a scream as the dark power
surged through him. His eyes blackened, and he gestured, fire
arcing from his fingers to strike the earth demon, burning a chunk
of soil from its chest. Draynabesh staggered back, gaping in
surprise, and Bane rose to his feet, his hands clenched, his
expression menacing.

"You dare to defy me? Disobey
me? You will pay!"

The demon cringed, opening his
mouth to speak, and Bane banished him with a harsh command. Then he
smiled cruelly and spoke the curt words of summoning. Draynabesh
oozed from the earth again, a third blackened circle joining the
other two. Bane waited until he was fully formed.

BOOK: Demon Lord
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