Chapter Nine
The Dark Army
Tallis sat up when Bane’s eyes opened, elation dispelling her lethargy. He gazed at the roof, then his eyes drifted down to her, and a slight frown furrowed his brow. Her first impulse was to run and fetch Elder Mother, but she quelled it, remembering the tonic that waited on the table. He tugged at the ropes on his wrists, his frown deepening.
“Untie me.”
Tallis leapt up to fumble with the knots. “We had to bind you for your safety. You were injuring yourself,” she almost gabbled, afraid he would think they had tried to imprison him.
Bane rubbed his wrists while she untied his ankles, still looking annoyed. His hands shook when he lowered them to his sides again and closed his eyes. Tallis picked up the bottle of tonic and poured some into a cup, bringing it to his side.
“You must drink this. It will make you stronger.”
Bane eyed the cup. “More foul potions?”
“No, it is only a tonic. You lost a great deal of blood. That is why you are so weak.”
“Weak?” His smile was bitter. “I can hardly move.”
“I will help you.” She sat beside him.
“I must be ill. Even you are not afraid of me anymore.”
Tallis placed the cup on the bedside table and helped him to sit up, pushing pillows in behind him, then handed him the cup.
H sipped the tonic and pulled a face. “What the hell did they make this from, fermented horse dung?”
Tallis smiled. “I do not think so.”
“Well, that is what it tastes like, or, at least, that is what I would imagine fermented horse dung would taste like.”
“Why did you abandon Mirra?” she burst out, then bit her tongue.
“So that is why you are here, so you can be the first to find out what happened.”
She bowed her head, nodding.
“I knew I was dying,” he said. “I tried to reach her. I failed.”
“Did the Black Lord prevent you?”
“No. Although he probably would have, had she managed to get any closer.”
“Why did you leave her? Why did you not bring her with you?”
“I tried.” His eyes became distant. “I had to be touching her to Move her with me.”
“Oh.” Tallis hesitated. “But will you... Are you going to try to save her?”
He studied the murky tonic. “You do not think I will, do you?”
“Not after what you did to her.” Again, she cursed her truant tongue, which spoke without consulting her brain.
He raised his eyes. “You have no right to judge me, girl. I was supposed to kill her, yet I have already brought her back from beyond death.”
She met his gaze, astonished. “How...?”
“Evidently the old woman was not spying on me at the time, or she would have told you.”
“But you tortured her.”
“Did I?” He glared at her. “You have no idea what I am capable of, do you? Had I really tortured her, it would have driven her mad, and I doubt she would have survived. I treated her badly, yes. I chose to think of it as torture, but it was not. I thought she was my enemy, sent to kill me. Yet I let her live.”
“And you think that excuses it?”
“Tallis!” Elder Mother’s voice cracked from the doorway, making the young healer jump up, mortified. She hurried out, receiving a sharp glare from Ellese.
Ellese approached Bane. “Take no notice of her. She is just worried about Mirra.” She picked up the bottle of tonic, took Tallis’ place beside him and topped up his cup. “Drink it all.”
“You jest.”
“No, I do not. The Black Lord’s army approaches. You must regain your strength.”
“This stuff is more likely to poison me.”
“We do not have much time.”
He took another gulp, grimacing. “Dragonroot?”
“That is one of the ingredients, with others that prevent its after effects.”
He peered at the new scar on his belly, fingering it. “How did you do this?”
“The Lady granted a miracle. The True Fire aided us.”
“She intends me to keep my promise, it seems.”
“What promise?”
Bane shook his head and drained the tonic, shuddering. He frowned at the cup, then gave her the benefit of his piercing gaze. “Do you really think I am a god?”
Ellese hesitated, taken by surprise, then inclined her head, giving up any idea of prevaricating. It was probably time he knew. “Yes. I do not think it. I know it. Arkonen made you one before you were born. I watched him do it. He had to, for no ordinary mortal could wield the amount of power you do, nor would they be able to control demons as you can. You would not have the power to destroy a god, as you do, unless you are one.”
He closed his eyes. “I do not feel like a damned god.”
“You almost died.”
“Gods do not die.”
“Mortal ones do.”
Bane looked deathly tired, blue shadows under his eyes. She took the empty cup and moved to the chair, wondering what promise he had made to the Lady. Mirra’s peril distressed her, not only because of her love for the girl, but because of how Bane might react if she perished. He was unpredictable in the extreme. Half an hour later, a young healer appeared in the doorway.
“Mother, the monsters are upon us.”
Bane opened his eyes and sat up, then swung his legs off the bed. “Bring me my clothes.”
Ellese handed him a fresh shirt, which he donned, tucking it into the trousers he had slept in, then found his boots under the bed. She held out his cloak, and he clipped it on. He managed to rise halfway his feet, and then sank back, scowling. Ellese tried to help him, but he shook her off.
“I can do it.”
A bevy of healers now stood in the doorway, watching him. On his second attempt, he stood up and swayed for a moment before his knees gave way. Ellese took his arm, ignored his attempts to shake her off and beckoned to the healers to help her. One took his other arm, and they lifted him to his feet and walked with him to the door, his knees buckling at every stride.
The rest of the healers followed as they half carried, half dragged him through the temple. The wounded soldiers who lay in the halls watched the little procession pass with incredulous expressions. An elder mother brought the bottle of tonic and attempted to give Bane some when they paused for a brief rest in a doorway. He glared at her, making her recoil from the faint surge of dark power that emanated from him. It surprised Ellese only a little, for Bane was in an exceedingly foul temper, and it was just as well to remind the healers of who and what he was. They were becoming inured to him, and it was not a good idea to take liberties with the Demon Lord, no matter how bad his health.
Martal was in the inner garden, and stared at Bane with a mixture of hatred and disbelief. His men guarded the hastily barricaded gates, looking resigned to their fate. Ellese stopped by the fountain, intending to let Bane sit on its edge, but he shook his head.
“Take me outside.”
“You cannot stand alone.”
“It does not matter.”
Martal approached, eyeing Bane. “Is he going to be any use to us in this state?”
“Watch, if you have the courage,” Bane sneered.
“Open the gates,” Ellese said, bowing under his weight.
Martal shouted at his men, who pulled aside the barricade of overturned handcarts and bags of grain. The trio slogged towards it, Bane unable to do more than move his legs. Outside the temple walls, dark creatures blackened the land to the distant forests, shuffling closer. When Bane emerged, they gibbered and howled, but most held their ground; only a few moved away furtively. The reason for their bravery stood beyond the hallowed ground, five earth demons ready to crush any who dared to flee.
“Put me down,” Bane instructed when they were about two hundred yards from the temple.
Ellese and her helper lowered him to his knees, and he sank back onto his haunches. She eyed the massed monsters, her heart quailing.
“Go back inside the temple,” Bane ordered.
Beyond the host, the demons pounded the ground with deep, booming reverberations. The horde howled, the goading galvanising them and terror driving them to attack. Ellese hesitated, loath to leave Bane alone in the path of the snarling throng, where it seemed certain that he would be torn apart. How could even he hope to defeat so many?
With a roar, the Black Lord’s army charged, and Bane shouted, “Go! Now!”
Ellese fled, her helper taking her arm and dragging her along. As they reached the abbey, Ellese turned to look back. Bane knelt, a small, solitary figure in front of the charging masses, his cloak flaring in the wind. He waited until the dark army was about two hundred yards away, then raised his arms and spread his hands. Black fire poured from his palms in twin rivers of darkness that struck the horde’s leaders as he swept it across their ranks. Those it touched either burst into flames or exploded in showers of gore, dying with brief, agonised shrieks.
Bane turned, guiding the searing shadows to raze hundreds of goblins, trolls and rock howlers. Dark creatures quit the shelter of the wood and charged into the fray. Vampires took wing and swooped to try to rend him with teeth and claws. Their terror of the Black Lord, who had undoubtedly promised them death if they failed, overwhelmed their fear of Bane. This proved to be well founded, however, for as fiery comets they plummeted from the sky, their screams mingling with the cries of those who perished on the ground in ever-increasing numbers.
The stench of burning flesh and torn entrails hit Ellese in a foul wave. Combined with the illness the dark power brought, it made her stomach heave. Martal looked pale and sick.
“Goddess!”
The demons’ pounding forced the army on, promising death to any who fled. Mangled, burning corpses piled up around Bane in a low wall. Within the circle of carnage, the Demon Lord guided the power with casual motions.
Bane’s stores of power dwindled as he hurled it from him in waves of burning shadow, unable to Gather while he was so weak. Gathering drained his strength, and at the moment he had too little. A troll in the front ranks fell to his knees and prostrated himself, and Bane spared him, letting the fire skip over him to his neighbour.
Others noticed the cowering, unharmed troll, and followed his example, receiving the same treatment. Soon, hundreds of dark folk were prostrated, and many of the creatures of darkness assumed similar poses and received mercy. The tide of the battle turned, and the demons beyond the hallowed ground vanished into the earth one by one. As soon as the last one left, the remainder of the horde fled, those who had been spared racing after them.
The Demon Lord sent the dark fire in pursuit, goading them to greater efforts as he picked off stragglers who had not bowed to him, sending them to their deaths with explosions of fire and despairing screams. When the last of them vanished into the woods or over the distant hills, he let the dark power die, leashing it into his bones. He lowered his arms and bowed his head, then collapsed.
Ellese cried out and ran to him, four soldiers carrying a stretcher overtaking her. When she reached him, they had lifted him onto it, and he lay like one dead. She walked beside him back to the abbey, gazing at his face to avoid looking at the mounds of dead. Martal waited at the gates, and took her arm, apparently afraid she was ready to drop from weariness and stress. They followed the stretcher to Bane’s roon, where he was once more placed on his bed.
As the soldiers left, Martal shook his head. “What did he need an army for?”
Ellese forced a brittle smile and sat on the chair. “He was ill when he rose from the Underworld. Using so much power then would have led to his death before he broke the wards. Also, he was vulnerable to assassins who might have shot him from afar. The army was there to protect him. That is why he always camped in the middle of it. He also had to sleep. For all his powers, he can be killed as easily as any other mortal... Well, almost.”
“And now that he is healed, he has unlimited power?”
“He will need it to fight the Black Lord.”
“And afterwards? You do realise that he could rule this world, and no one could stand against him.”
Bane snorted softly, a faint smile curling his lips.
Ellese gazed at him. “Yes, he could.”
“So, by healing him,” Martal said, “you have given him this option. Otherwise he would have died at the seventh ward, correct?”
She nodded. “That is right, and we would be at the Black Lord’s mercy now.”
“So, instead, we may end up being ruled by the Demon Lord, and who is to say he will be any better?”
“Martal,” Bane muttered, “go and jump in the cesspit.”
The baron reddened and stepped towards the bed, then turned back to Ellese. “You do see what you have done, do you not? You had a wolf in the hen house, so you put another wolf in to kill the first, but you will still end up with a wolf eating your chickens.”
She smiled. “Except that the second wolf does not eat chickens.”
Bane chuckled.
Martal shot him a glare. “How can you be sure of that? Even if he does not now, he may develop an appetite for them in the future.”
“He will not, because he is both a wolf, and a chicken.”
Bane laughed softly again.
Martal said, “Unless, of course, you get rid of the second wolf when he has finished off the first, which, since he is really a chicken, would not be too hard.”
Bane growled, “Martal, if you are going to plot my death, at least do it where I cannot hear you.”
Ellese cast the portly baron a reproachful look. “No one will harm Bane.”
“You are taking a big risk, Ellese.”
“I do not share your view.”
“Did you see what he just did out there?”
“Yes, he protected us.”
Martal snorted. “He protected himself. He is the one they came here to kill.”
She sighed. “Let me explain something to you, Baron. The Black Lord thought Bane was on the brink of death. He had no idea we had healed him. He thought his army would be able to kill Bane while he was too weak to defend himself or escape. But, since he has been healed, Bane is quite capable of using the dark power to Move instantly to another place. He did not have to protect the abbey.”
“Unless he needs you to care for him while he recuperates,” Martal remarked.
“He does not,” Ellese and Bane said in unison.
“He needed you to heal him when he came here.”
Bane opened his eyes and pointed at Martal, who tensed, raising his chin. A faint surge of dark power chilled the room, and Ellese cast a worried glance at the Demon Lord.
“Get out,” he said.
Martal hesitated, frowning, then stomped out. Ellese relaxed as the chilling power vanished, and Bane’s eyes closed once more.
“He is afraid of you,” she assured him again in an attempt to soothe his anger.
“He should be. If he keeps goading me, he may rue it.”
“I know you will not harm him.”
“Then you know more than me.”
She smiled. “Perhaps I do.”
Mirra stood beside the fireplace in the room she had shared with Bane, wondering what lay in store for her next. She had her suspicions, based on the foul exhibition she had witnessed, and they did not bear thinking about. Two female droges had brought her here and left sniggering, which added to her trepidation. Many of the runes on the walls glowed, but not the same ones Bane had used, and she wondered what function they served.
The door opened, and the Black Lord entered, clad in a bright blue, silver-patterned shirt and tight crimson breeches. Whatever his ideas of beauty were, his dress sense was distinctly lacking. He smiled and wandered over to her, glancing at the silken bed. Stopping in front of her, he let his eyes roam over her in a sickening manner, leering.
“So, now it is time for the next entertainment of the evening. I trust you have been looking forward to it?”
Deciding that this was not the time to keep silent, she asked, “Why should I?”
He chuckled. “Why indeed? You have no idea of the pleasures of the flesh, do you, little maid?”
“Why would you wish to give me pleasure?”
“Ah! A good point. In fact, I doubt you will enjoy it all that much, do not worry. And tomorrow you will hate yourself. I was of course referring to my pleasure. Yours will be tainted by that puritanical little mind of yours. However, such pursuits as I have planned open the body and mind to the dark power, and will speed your corruption. Your immunity is indeed strong. That which caused the slight transformation of your arm would have utterly changed a normal human within a few seconds. This will speed it greatly.”
Arkonen went over to a table covered with platters of roast meat and vegetables and picked up a bottle of wine, pouring two cups. He returned to her and held one out. “Drink it.”
Mirra took it and tossed it into the fire.
He sighed, sipping his own. “You plan to be tiresome, then. I do not enjoy reluctance or even defiance, contrary to popular folklore. I like my women willing, and none can resist me, I assure you, not even you.”
“You think you can seduce me?”
“I know I can. The dark power aids me, and I am the handsomest man you have ever seen, am I not?”
“No. Bane surpasses you.”
“Rubbish!” His eyes narrowed. “A lie, healer? The Lady will punish you.”
“No, it is not a lie. Many people would think you handsomer, but to me, he is the most beautiful man in the world. Also, he is alive, while you are long since dead, and should have stayed in the Land of the Dead. You revolt me.”
He frowned. “That is unfortunate. But the body is a fickle ally to the mind, girl. It can be made to enjoy what the mind does not. The human women who were brought to my bed in the Underworld learnt to enjoy my touch, even though they feared me.”
“You corrupted them with your foulness. It does not work on me.”
“Not yet, but in time it will, when your body has been opened to it.”
“Bane will come for me.”
Arkonen laughed. “Your precious Bane is too badly injured to challenge me now. If he is stupid enough to come here, I will kill him. But he will not, because he cares naught for you. Has he ever shown you any sign of affection? Has he ever looked upon you kindly, even once? No.
“He cannot, and he never will. I made him what he is. Do you think I would allow him to be swayed by weak emotions? Your imagination has played tricks on you if you thought he felt something more for you than curiosity, and he used your weakness to survive. You are nothing but a silly little girl, so you can give up your idiotic dream that he will rescue you. Come.” He put down his wine cup and held out a hand. “Enough foolishness; let us begin.”
Mirra backed away, but he closed the gap in two strides and took her wrist, yanking her close. She sensed almost no evil from him. Evidently he had leashed it well, knowing its nauseating effect on humans. Her reaction to his proximity and intentions was immediate and instinctive, however. She raised her free hand and raked her fingernails down his face. The pseudo flesh tore like putty, leaving furrows in its substance. He cursed and recoiled, then slapped her hard enough to make her gasp, tears stinging her eyes. The furrows vanished, and he glared at her.
“Violence, healer? Your kind takes an oath to do no harm. You break your Lady’s laws.”
She clutched her burning cheek. “We do no harm to the living.”
“You would do well to apply that oath to me, or your life will become forfeit.”
“I do not fear death. It would be preferable to what you have planned for me.” Mirra quailed inwardly at her words.
“I will kill you in good time, when your soul belongs to me. Then perhaps I will grant you a droge body so you may continue to serve me.”
“My soul belongs to the Lady, and she will never release it into your foul keeping.”
“We will see about that. Many of the women who were brought to me spoke those exact words, but they all learnt to worship me.”
“I am a healer.”
He smiled. “A pleasant challenge.”
Arkonen lunged and seized her wrists, pushed her against the wall and pinned her there. She struggled ferociously, kicking his shins with all her might. He growled and trapped her legs with his own, pressing her hard against the wall. Her struggles hampered him, but he persevered, holding her wrists with one hand so he could caress her with the other.
“Relax; it will be so much easier.” His soft, seductive voice made her shudder.
“Your touch sickens me.”
“Resistance is foolish.”
As his hand slid up her neck to cup her cheek, she turned her head and sank her teeth into it. He snatched it away, leaving a chunk of it in her mouth, which she spat out with a grimace of disgust. He released her and stepped back to rub the injury, restoring it. His eyes met hers, the red glow flaring in their depths.
“Evidently other methods are necessary. But beware; there are worse fates than becoming my chattel, even than death. You would do well to remember who I am.”
“A vile, long-dead Underworld monster.”
His fist hit her jaw and knocked her into the wall. Everything went black.
The Demon Lord opened his eyes to find a strange elder healer watching him. She rose and went out, returning a few minutes later with a bowl of porridge and Elder Mother. Ellese smiled when he sat up to eat, dismissed the healer and settled on the chair beside him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not strong enough to do battle with the Black Lord yet.”
Her smile became strained. “Mirra still lives.”
“You have been spying on Arkonen?”
“Yes.”
“A dangerous pastime, now that the wards no longer bind him below.”
“It was worth the risk.”
He shook his head. “I do not recommend it.”
“I had to find out if she was all right.”
“I could have told you that she is still alive, but I assure you, she is not all right.”
“No.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “He has abused her.”
“He will try to corrupt her, but he will not kill her as long as he knows I am still alive.”
“Can you save her?”
He shot her a sharp glance, then continued to eat.
Ellese pulled a rueful face. “Of course you can; stupid question. I am just concerned about her. She is like a daughter to me. But he cannot corrupt her. She has the power to resist him.” Silence fell for a time, then she said, “You must rest today, regain your strength. Perhaps tomorrow...”
He shook his head. “I have things to do, and tomorrow will be too soon.”
“How long -?”
“Perhaps the day after.”
“But Mirra... Could you not bring her back now? Surely you have the strength for that.”
“She is in the room behind the altar in the Old Kingdom temple, where there are many runes on the walls. He will have set the runes to kill her the moment I enter it.”
“But she is immune to the dark power.”
Bane sighed, irritated. “I am aware of that. The runes will open an ancient channel to the Underworld, a Fetch that was put in place by those who built the temple, and she will be plunged into the deepest pit. Even she will not survive that.”
“Then how do you intend to rescue her?”
“I shall summon some demons. Arkonen will take her out of the room sooner or later, and they will be my spies.”
“Does the Black Lord not control all the demons?” she enquired.
“No. Only those he has summoned. They are not willing servants. Most are out sporting with humans.”
“Could you send one of them to -?”
“No. They cannot enter the room, and they cannot Move as I can. They must travel in their true form or go below and re-emerge, and they cannot take a mortal with them.”
Ellese slumped, then looked up again. “The Black Lord has snatched people from the Overworld many times. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” He put down the empty bowl. “But the runes in that room will react to my power and kill her. Also, Fetching only works from the Underworld. I would have to go below to do it, and then bring her here by Moving.”
“But if she leaves the room -”
“He will be with her. It takes time to create a channel for a Fetch, and he will sense it. Then he will either try to block it, or kill her. If he tries to block it, she will be torn apart.” Bane considered. “There is of course a Summoning. That would work.”
“So why not do that? Does it require a great deal of power?”
“Yes. Summoning a mortal also requires a blood sacrifice.”
“Oh. I see. That is out of the question, of course.” She frowned. “How do you know where she is being held? Are you also watching Arkonen?”
“No. He would sense it if I did, as he can sense your eyes upon him. He can also block my Eye and your spying. That he chooses not to only shows that he wishes you to see what he is doing to her. I have no wish to see it, since I can do nothing to prevent it at the moment. I know him. I know what he will do.”
“So there is nothing you can do until you are ready to face him?”
“No.”
“Did he use a Summoning to take her when she left the temple, when you were fighting him?”
“Yes. He must have performed two sacrifices before the battle, one to summon the soldier he used to taunt me, the other to summon her as soon as she stepped off the hallowed ground. He planned it.”
“Poor Mirra.” She sighed.
Bane found his boots under the bed and pulled them on, then donned his shirt and stood up a little unsteadily, reaching for his cloak.
Ellese rose as he clipped it on. “Where are you going?”
“To summon some demons.”
Elder Mother opened her mouth, probably to ask another question, but he was tired of answering them, and Moved. He rematerialised in the midst of the dark folk who camped just beyond the forest, out of sight of the abbey. They were the ones who had bowed to him and received mercy, and they cowered at his sudden appearance, gibbering and moaning. He raked them with a hard glance, noting the glowing red eyes that watched him from the wood, where the dark creatures that had chosen to worship him hid.
They had no need to stay in the forest’s dimness any longer, but did so out of habit. There were no humans or gnomes amongst the dark folk. Evidently the hard, fast marches had weeded them out, along with the weaker non-humans. Those who remained were footsore and weary, thin and dirty, their gaunt faces resigned and scared. Bane despised them more than ever, knowing the folly of their worship, but as long as they were loyal to him, he would use them.
“Let your leaders come forth,” he instructed.
A troll, a rock howler and a goblin crept closer, and were joined by a dark creature from the woods, a grim. When they were assembled, he pointed at the abbey.
“You will protect that place. Make your camp outside it, on the hallowed ground where demons cannot reach you.”
“Lord.”
The four bowed and retreated to relay his orders to the rest. The dark folk doused their fires and gathered their few possessions. Bane wandered over to the nearest fire, whose owners scuttled away. The dark power whispered to him in answer to his need, and he spoke a harsh word of summoning, followed by a name. The flames leapt, streaked with sickly hues of green and violet. A ring of blackness spread from it, crisping the yellow grass to ash, the soil sizzling as it burnt. The fire swelled and roared up, seven feet tall, sprouting six arms as a demon formed within it. Three glowing yellow eyes opened in its head, and it stepped forth, bowing.
“Demon Lord.”
“Jarabesh. Go to the Old Kingdom, to the temple where the Black Lord resides. Bring me news of the healer he keeps prisoner there. When he takes her from the rune room, return instantly and inform me. Do nothing else.”
The demon bowed and stepped back into the fire, shrinking as it mingled with the flames until it disappeared, returning to the Underworld to travel to the Old Kingdom. Bane spoke the word of summoning again, followed by the name the dark power whispered to him. A second fire demon rose from the flames and stepped forth to bow to him.
Bane eyed it. “Vanrayel. You will protect the Goddess’ Temple, should the Black Lord’s army return. You will harm no human, and do nothing else.”
The demon’s eyes flared, but it bowed again. “As you command, Demon Lord.”
Bane summoned two more fire demons, four earth demons and an air demon, issuing the same instructions to them. The dark folk hastened towards the temple, casting fearful glances at the demons, eager to quit their proximity. As they received their instructions, the demons followed, taking up positions around the edge of the hallowed ground and speeding the army’s retreat to its safety. The summoning tired Bane, and he decided that nine demons would have to do. He walked back to the edge of the holy ground, stopped and bowed his head, spreading his hands.
Closing his eyes, he looked deep within the earth, finding slight weaknesses there, imperfections of soil and rock that he could use to ease his task. This was a power he had always possessed, no gift of the darkness, but something with which he had been born. At first, it had been too slight to be useful, and had served merely to fill many hours with idle play. When Arkonen had ordered him to dig tunnels, he had tried to use it, but the demons set to guard him had punished him, forcing him to use his muscles instead. He took hold of a large chunk of the earth with his mind and pulled. A shiver went through the ground as rock and soil parted with a soft grating, and a section of the earth floated free, held by his mind.
With a flick of thought, he sent it to a distant plain, where it formed a hill of settling debris. He inscribed a rune in the air above the pit with a trickle of shadow, muttering, “Thorack nadir empeth dralnor.”
The hole vanished, replaced by an illusion of solid ground, identical to that which had been there before. The shadow rune remained to mark the trap, invisible to mortal eyes.
The demons watched him, knowing the trap would capture them too if they strayed too close to it, and cost them a great deal of power to escape. The trap was not merely a pit and an illusion. It contained a spell that would suck any who came within its influence into its depths. The black fire within it would incinerate a mortal, and even a demon would be forced to flee to the Underworld before it was consumed. Bane walked along the edge of the hallowed ground, creating five more traps.
Martal watched the approaching dark people with growing unease, his men and some healers gathering behind him to stare at the shuffling host. He raised the spyglass, muttering under his breath when he spotted the demons beyond the hallowed ground, and, close to them, Bane. Ellese appeared at his elbow, making him jump and lower the glass.
“What is that evil bastard doing?” he demanded.
Ellese took the spyglass and peered through it. “He is protecting the abbey. He must expect the Black Lord to send his army back when he is not here. You should be grateful, Martal. You know we cannot withstand another attack.”
The baron grunted. “I hope you are right, but I dislike demons hanging around so close by. At least they cannot come any closer, but as for that lot...” He indicated the dark horde. “I would not trust them as far as I could throw them.”
“I am sure Bane knows what he is doing.”
Martal jumped again when the Demon Lord appeared a few yards away, a chill running through him at the touch of Bane’s power. He looked exhausted again, and Ellese made a soft sound of annoyance.
“Bane, you should be resting, not tiring yourself further.”
He strolled up to them. “The Black Lord will attack this place again, either because he thinks I am still injured, or because I will bring Mirra here. Either way, it must not fall. I will not be able to guard you all the time.”
“Surely he knows you have been healed?”
“His spies can only report what they see. They have no way of knowing I am healed, only that I am still alive. He did not see what you did. He cannot far-see or cast an Eye within hallowed ground.”
“You would have died within minutes from that wound.”
He shrugged. “He does not know that.”
Martal asked, “How do you know those bastards will not attack us as soon as you are gone?”
“They serve me now.” Bane glanced at the dark people, who were setting up a new camp on the yellow grass. “They would not dare.”
Martal blustered, but Bane walked away.
Arkonen surveyed his new temple with a smile. He had raised it from the reluctant earth in a matter of minutes, fulfilling a whim. Huge stone pillars upheld a vast domed roof, and the inner fire’s ruddy glow shone through the cracks in the floor. Runes covered the pillars and walls, some glowing red, and arcane images writhed between them, serpentine and evil.
“Much better,” he muttered. “The destruction of the Overworld goes apace.”
“Your power knows no bounds, Lord,” an attendant droge assured him.
“But that damned human still lives.”
“Surely he cannot survive much longer, Lord? He now protects himself with demons and dark folk, so he must be too ill and weak to defend himself.”
“Yes.” The Black Lord considered. “Why would they ally themselves with one so weak?”
“They are too stupid to know, Lord. He killed thousands when they attacked the temple.”
“That in itself is remarkable.” He studied the droge. “You were once a priest. Is there any way those damned witches could have healed him?”
“Not without power, Lord. Unless they still had some stored.”
“No.” Arkonen shook his head. “They have been without sunlight for too long, and the battle would have used up all they had.”
“Then all they have is the eternal flame, and it cannot be used for healing.”
“Unless the Lady allowed them to, which she might, to save him.”
“That would be a great miracle.”
Arkonen grunted, frowning. “If he has been healed, he is only waiting until he has regained his strength. Then he will challenge me again.”
“He has no hope of defeating you, Lord.”
The Black Lord glared at the droge, who cowered. “I know that, fool. But I have no wish to be pestered by him in his stupid bid to save the Overworld. I will be rid of him. I must strike while he is still weak. The army must attack the temple. See to it.”
“At once, Lord.” The droge bowed and ran off.
Arkonen gazed around his temple again, basking in the dark power that poured from the cracks in the floor. The evil within it would consume a human in moments. He strode out, heading for the old temple where the healer was housed.