Aftermath
The following day, the soldiers buried their dead in the trench they had dug around the abbey. The dark army watched them with lacklustre eyes, and the villagers seemed too apathetic to do anything but sit around their campfires. Dark clouds hung over the dead grey land and the eternal flame in the chapel remained dim. The news of the Black Lord’s downfall spread amongst the people in whispers, but they were all too concerned with their misery and hunger to celebrate it. When the news reached the dark folk, they stirred and muttered. Some groups vanished into the forest, but the rest lingered.
Ellese started to regain her sight on the second day, but her eyes were still too painful to open. Tallis shared her time between Mirra’s bedside and Bane’s, as did Ellese. Bane’s eyes stopped seeping blood, and the dark power burnt all trace of it away. Neither of them showed any signs of waking, however, and Mirra’s arm worried Tallis. The healers removed the cloth to examine it, revealing the horror of the transformation, then wrapped it again. Ellese assured Tallis that as soon as the sun returned and the healers regained their powers, they would heal it.
Two more dark, miserable days passed, and Ellese’s eyes recovered a little. The healers shared their food with the villagers, and an occasional blood-curdling scream came from the depths of the dark army as one of its number perished to feed the rest.
On the fifth day, Mirra woke and pulled off the cloth that covered her transformed arm. Her screams brought healers rushing to her bedside, and Tallis tried to soothe her, but Mirra pushed her away, weeping hysterically as she clawed at the black scales. Her nails tore, and her fingers bled until the healers held her down and bandaged her hand. They also wrapped her transformed arm so she could not use it to tear the bandages off her other hand and, thus handicapped, all she could do was weep. It took an entire night and day before she calmed down, exhausted by her hysterics, after which she stared into space with vacant, hollow eyes. Tallis tried to persuade her to eat, but she turned her face to the wall and closed her eyes.
On the seventh day, it started to rain, and the healers thanked the goddess for the blessed gift, even though the rain was black with soot, and burnt. The acidic water scalded man and beast alike, and the villagers herded their livestock into the abbey’s stables to protect them. It ate into the temple’s bricks and mortar, causing unprotected outside walls to crumble. In some places, it burnt through the roof tiles and formed hissing pools until healers set buckets under the leaks. The dry ground soaked it up for half a day, then the ash turned into mud and ran downhill, filling hollows with thick grey slush. The villagers huddled in the chapel, their children filling the usually silent abbey halls with soft sobbing. The dark folk retreated to the forest’s dubious shelter, and Tallis knew Martal was glad to see them go, although he would probably have preferred that they left completely.
The rain continued to fall and the water to rise, invading the abbey with questing fingers of mud, flooding storerooms and forcing the soldiers to spend a day moving the supplies to higher ground. Tallis developed a strong wish that Bane would wake, but the Demon Lord lay like one dead. Only the movement of his chest indicated that he was alive. The seven runes dimmed to a dark reddish glow, and the power emanating from him lessened. The flesh melted from him, however, since he ate nothing but the sugar water the healers trickled into his mouth.
Tallis was dozing on the chair in his room when a soft cough jolted her awake, and she glanced at the bed. Bane stared at the ceiling with a distant, bemused expression. Tallis jumped up and hastened to his side, dithered, then ran to the door to shout the news into the corridor. When she rushed back to the bed, he had raised an arm to examine his bandaged hand. His eyes were impossibly blue, glowing like jewels, and she jumped when they flicked to her, impaling her with their brilliance.
“Take these off.”
She hesitated. Surely he should be asking for water, or food? “Your hands are badly burnt.”
He tried to sit up, but flopped back. “Do as I say.”
“All right, but could you...?” She motioned to his chest.
Bane looked down at the rune scars and closed his eyes. The glow vanished, and with it, the dark power. Tallis sat on the edge of the bed, hoping Ellese would arrive soon, for she found him extremely unnerving. She unwound the bandages, trying to be gentle and dreading his reaction to what was under them.
The healers had expected an infection to set in, which would have led to amputation without the power to heal him, but his hands had remained the same as the day they had found him. He scowled when she removed the last of the bandages, flexed his fingers and winced.
Ellese came in, followed by several elder mothers, who stopped in the doorway. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling.
“It is good to see you awake. How do you feel?”
He glared at her, shooting a hard glance at the women in the doorway. “Where is Mirra?”
“She is in her room.”
His tension eased, and he tried to sit up again, but failed. Ellese came closer and shooed Tallis away, then sat in her place and held out her hand.
“Would you like some help?”
Bane scowled, but placed his wrist in her hand. She gripped it, and with her help, he pulled himself up. Tallis pushed pillows in behind him, and he glowered at the women in the doorway.
“Leave.”
They obeyed, to Tallis’ surprise, for elder mothers did not usually take kindly to being dismissed in such a rude fashion. Bane glanced at her, and she froze, dreading her own dismissal, but after a moment’s consideration he turned his attention back to Ellese.
“How is she?”
“As well as can be expected.”
Bane seemed to accept this at face value, and glanced at the sheets of grey rain outside the window, then back at his hand. Ellese poured a cup of water from the jug on the bedside table and held it out to him. He raised his hand, hesitated, then closed his eyes and sighed.
“It seems fate has granted your wish, old woman. My hands are useless. I require your help.”
She smiled. “It will be my pleasure.”
Ellese held the cup to Bane’s lips, and he sipped the water. Something had changed, but Tallis could not quite put her finger on exactly what it was. When he had drunk half the water, he shook his head, and Ellese put the cup down.
“Bane, you require healing, and for that, we need the sun. It has been raining for four days. The land is flooded. Are you strong enough to help us?”
“Perhaps when I have eaten.”
Ellese ordered Tallis, “Bring some food. The best we have.”
Tallis nodded and fled, her bare feet pattering on the stone floor. The news of Bane’s awakening had spread throughout the temple, and it buzzed with excitement. Even in the kitchens, the women chattered animatedly. Bane’s request had been foreseen, and a rich stew bubbled on the stove, comprising the finest ingredients the abbey possessed. The god in their midst had woken, and the promise of deliverance from their hardship shone in the future like a beacon. Tallis ran to Mirra’s room, leaving the hope and happiness of the halls to enter its ambience of gloom and sorrow.
Mirra was curled up on the bed, facing the wall, her bound hands tucked under her chin. Tallis sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, which tensed.
“Bane is awake,” she said. “He is going to bring back the sun, and then you can be healed.”
Mirra began to weep again, and Tallis’ heart sank.
“Come on, Mir, this will soon be over, I promise.”
“You cannot heal me,” she said in a choked voice. “No one can.”
“Of course we can, and we will.”
“You cannot!” Mirra’s face twisted, and she buried it in the pillow.
“Mir...” Tallis shook her, but she only hunched her shoulder. “Come on, Mir. I will bring him to see you as soon as he is strong enough.”
“No!”
The vehemence in Mirra’s voice startled Tallis. “But I thought -”
“Do not bring him here. I could not bear it.” She raised her head, her eyes sorrowful. “I do not want him to see what that monster did to me.”
“But -”
“No! Do not. Promise me.”
“Mir...”
Mirra raised the swaddled, monstrous arm, waving it. “Do you think I want him to see this?”
“No, of course not. After you are healed then, all right?”
She lay back, closing her eyes. “Yes, after I am healed.”
“Good.” Tallis hesitated, sensing something amiss with her reaction, but shrugged it off and rose, heading back to the kitchens to fetch Bane’s food.
Ellese regarded Bane with deep affection, wishing she could embrace him. “What happened out there?”
“I think you know.”
“You called upon the Lady, and she blessed you.”
“Blessed me? She almost bloody killed me.”
“I am sure she had no choice.”
He held up his hand. “This is why there are no white mages.”
“Yes. The white fire is too powerful for a mortal to wield. The only reason you survived is because you are a god, albeit a dark one. She was able to use you as a conduit, but you had to ask for her help.” She placed a hand on his chest, her need to touch him overcoming her reluctance to anger him. “I watched it all. It was amazing. When he created that monster I thought you were doomed.”
A slight, bitter smile curled his lips. “Whatever the Black Lord can do, so can I.”
“Are the people outside the hallowed ground in danger from demons now?”
“Not for a while. Almost half of them were at the battle, the fire and earth demons, anyway. They are now all too weak to do anything for some time. And those that were below are also considerably weakened because of the vast amount of dark power that was drawn from the Underworld during the battle. Minor demons that were above at that time remain a threat, but generally demons do not kill humans for sport. They prefer tormenting and trickery.”
Ellese smiled. “Good.”
Tallis entered with a bowl of steaming stew, and the conversation ceased while Ellese fed him, being careful not to treat him like a child. He clearly hated his disability, often raising his crippled hand and glaring at it. After he finished the stew, she left him to rest, shooing Tallis out.
In the corridor, Tallis turned to her. “I told Mirra. She will not see him.”
Ellese raised her brows. “Why not?”
“Her arm...”
“Of course. That will change when she has been healed.”
“That is what I said. But I do not think she wants him to know about it.”
Ellese nodded. “Understandable. We will not tell him then.”
“We lie?”
“No, we do not tell him.”
The rain drummed on the temple roof, overflowed the gutters and seeped in through cracks and crannies, running down the walls to pool on the floor. The damaged roof allowed still more to pour in, and rivers of mud crept in through the doors. The eternal flame grew dimmer, and the people waited, whispering in the hallways, wrapped in blankets to ward off the increasing cold.
When Tallis went to check on Bane, he was asleep, and she sat on the chair to wait. The dim light outside faded as the sun sank behind the clouds, and more lamps were lighted. The healers eked out their meagre rations in a frugal supper, and those that could, slept. The rest waited, and some prayed.
Mirra wept in the darkness, her sorrow a black void within her. She could not let Bane see what the Black Lord had done to her. The prospect was too horrific to bear contemplation. She was an abomination, beyond help, for she knew with a deep certainty that her arm could not be healed. The transformation was not an injury or a disease, but part of her, her own flesh, changed into a monstrosity.
It would disgust him, being, as it was, a part of the world that had raised him, which he hated now. Everything she had hoped for, all her dreams of a future with Bane in it were gone, shattered by Arkonen’s casual cruelty. She wanted to scream, to tear the monstrous flesh from her arm, find a kitchen knife and hack it off. Instead, she listened to the rain’s endless drumming, and wept.
Tallis jerked awake and raised her head, wincing as her stiff neck protested. Her eyes fell upon the bed, where Bane sat, regarding her with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.
“You snore.”
She gulped, her nerves jangling. “I am sorry.”
He smiled and looked away, apparently aware of his effect on her. “Why is it always you I find sitting here when I wake?”
“I… The others are tired... I volunteered. I am Mirra’s friend. She would want me to look after you and I helped to bring you here and I volunteered...” Realising that she was gabbling, she shut her mouth.
“You are still afraid of me.”
“No. Yes. Only when you are awake.”
“Well, that makes sense.” He attempted to stand, and sank down again.
Tallis jumped up. “I will call Ellese.”
“No.” Bane glanced out of the window, where a slight lightening of the clouds indicated that dawn had broken beyond them. “I would rather not have an audience.”
“Of course.” She wrung her hands.
Bane tried to stand again, but his knees buckled and he winced as his bare hand came into contact with the bed.
Tallis started forward. “I should bandage that hand again, before you hurt it.”
He looked up, making her step back. “No. In fact, you may unbandage the other one.”
“But...”
He held it out. “Now.”
Not daring to disobey, she unwound the cloth. He studied it, then stretched out his hands towards her, making her breath catch.
He said, “Help me up.”
Tallis hesitated, her eyes riveted to his mutilated hands, and Bane sighed, lowering them.
“When I require breakfast, I will ask for some of that sludge you people call porridge. I have no taste for humans, no matter what my reputation says.”
Not wanting to appear any more foolish than she already did, she took hold of his wrists when he raised his hands again, providing support for him to pull himself up. His legs wobbled, and he leant on her, so close that she was almost nose to nose with him, and his hair brushed her brow. Then he straightened, swaying. As soon as he stopped leaning on her, she released him and stepped back, her eyes sliding away from his bare chest.
Turning to the table, she picked up his shirt, which had been cleaned and pressed, as had his cloak. She held it out, then realised that he could not dress himself without hands, and he had not even been able to don his boots. He turned to the window, took a couple of careful steps towards it and gazed out at the rain, which had ceased to be caustic two days ago.
Plucking up her courage, she said, “I will help you to dress, but it would be easier if you sat down.”
“I am not strong enough yet.” He paused, contemplating the rain. “What foul stuff your world is made of.”
“You mean water? Without it, we would die. Surely you have to drink it, just as we do?”
“No. Once I got wet in a storm like this though, and again when I broke the sixth ward. Most unpleasant.”
“You have never drunk water, or had a bath?”
He turned to face her. “No. I drink only wine, and the dark power keeps me clean.”
She studied her hands. “Would you like some breakfast now?”
“Yes. Then you will take me to see Mirra.”
She shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Why not?”
“I... I have told her that you are awake, and she has asked that you not see her until after she is healed.” She raised her eyes, dreading his reaction.
Bane’s frown deepened, and his piercing gaze made her shiver. “What is wrong with her?”
“She does not want you to know. That is why she will not see you now, so I cannot tell you.”
“She does not want to see me?”
“No.”
Bane sank onto the bed, his expression shuttered. Tallis wanted to blurt the truth, but bit her tongue, put down the shirt, and fled.
Bane stared at the floor, his heart turning to stone. The last time he had seen Mirra, she had not appeared to be injured, apart from a bruised throat, but he could not understand why a few bruises would make her refuse to see him. Her arm had been wrapped in a cloth, he recalled, but even if it was broken or burnt, that still did not seem like a good reason. A far better explanation was that now his purpose was served, the Black Lord was cast down, and she no longer needed to pretend to care for him.
Who could possibly care for him, anyway? She had certainly put on a good act, and he had fallen for it. Now he was being cast aside, yet who could blame her? After all he had done to her, she probably hated him. He raised his blackened hands and stared at them, wishing he could cover his face to hide his despair. She had betrayed him, just as Arkonen had done, only hers was far worse, yet he could not hate her. It was fitting punishment for his cruelty, and he accepted it, even though it caused a dark, nameless emotion that sapped his strength and weighed heavily on his heart, burdening his chest with pain.
When Tallis returned with his breakfast, he had no appetite, but forced himself to eat half of it for strength. Even so, when Ellese came to see him an hour later, he was barely able to walk unaided, but he agreed that it was time to close the Sources and drive the dark power from the Overworld.
Tallis was spared the onerous chore of helping him dress. Her blatant aversion to him made him wish she would just go away and leave him alone. Yet she hung around, to his annoyance, watching him with a mixture of dread and fascination that he found repugnant. He tolerated her because she was Mirra’s special friend, and wondered why he continued to do so now. Ellese helped him dress, smiling but looking concerned. When he was clad once more in his rich black clothes, he made two abortive attempts to stand up before he allowed her to help him to his feet, and stood swaying.
“Help me outside.”
She looked scandalised. “You cannot go out there. You are too weak. Surely you can do it in here?”
“No. You would not want that, I assure you.”
“Then wait a little longer.”
“No.”
“Bane...”
He scowled. “Do as I say.”
She sighed, her expression one of gentle reproach. “The courtyard?”
“No. Beyond the hallowed ground.”
Ellese said to Tallis, “Go and tell Martal to ready the cart.” The girl ran out, and Ellese beckoned to the healers in the doorway. “You two, help him.”
The two women took his arms, careful not to touch his hands. He leant on them as he walked down the corridor to the inner courtyard, where Martal waited with the cart and a few men. Bane climbed aboard with Ellese, Tallis, Martal and the two healers, all of them drenched to the skin within moments. The driver whipped up the horses, and the cart sloshed through axle-deep water, the horses slipping and sliding in the mud. Bane’s exhaustion was so profound that he was not inclined to use the dark power to Move or keep the rain off. He needed what little energy he had to command the shadows below.
Just beyond the hallowed ground, the driver guided the horses to a hillock that stood above the water, where they stopped. The healers helped Bane up the slight rise, and at the top he shook them off and turned to Ellese.
“Go away.”
The healers lifted their sodden gowns and climbed back into the cart. The driver clucked to the horses and they moved away, but stopped within sight of Bane, on the hallowed ground. He cursed their curiosity, then dismissed them and opened himself to his senses. The three new Sources were within his range, although it would have been easier if he had been closer to them. The one in the Old Kingdom was too far away for his commands to affect.
With some difficulty, he tugged open his shirt with the heels of his hands and traced the seven rune scars, igniting them. Turning in the direction of the Sources, he lifted his arms and spread his hands, describing a series of runic symbols in the air with the shadows that trickled from his fingers. When they hung before him in an unreadable dark sentence, he spoke their guttural names. They sank down, losing their form until they were wisps of shadow that vanished into the ground. All around him, so slowly that its movement was barely noticeable, the dark power began to fall. He repeated the runic sequence, speaking their names again, and they drifted down.
The dark power fell from the sky in a cascade of shadow, slowly at first, then faster as he completed the sequence a third time. The runes on his chest brightened, and sweat mingled with the rain that ran down his face. It looked deceptively easy, but was not. To command so much dark power took all of his will, and the power within him burnt as it fought him, yet he needed it to fuel his commands. The world grew darker as the shadows parted from the clouds and filled the air on their slow journey to the earth. The rain beat down, chilling him to the bone and making his teeth chatter. How he hated water.
The hallowed ground began to glow with a soft, muted silvery light that shone up through the soil as if a lamp had been lighted beneath it. The falling shadows drifted away from it, thickening at its edge before sinking into the earth. Bane completed the runic sequence a fourth time, and the shadows drifted down through the rain, gathering on the water like a foul mist. Thunder rumbled in the clouds again, and lightning flickered.
Bane turned his attention to the Sources, stretching out his hands towards them. Their closure required finger movements, and his hands hurt. This, he told himself, he did so he could be healed, but the ache in his heart mocked him. He described the flowing gestures of command, his fingers burning when he bent them, then made a vicious downward motion and shouted, “Bre’nyth argarath!”
A grinding shudder ran through the earth, as if a huge, long-unused gate rumbled shut, and the nearest Source closed, cutting off the flow of dark power from it. Again, he described the motions, his hands graceful despite their mutilation, as the darkness fell all around him. The gestures had to be exact; any deviation and the command would fail, for it was amongst the highest and most privileged of commands, available only to a god. His hands were stiff, defying his use of them, and, although he did not need to expend power through them, they burnt.
The runes burnt too, fighting him even as he used their power, for the dark power did not want to be banished below. He made the final, vicious gesture and shouted the command again.
The second Source rumbled shut with a hollow, echoing boom. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, bowing his shoulders, and he switched back to the free power, describing a fifth set of runes. The shadow fall continued at the same pace, but that which had gathered upon the ground and water vanished into it, sucked down into the Underworld.
It would replenish the exhausted demons, brighten the inner fire and fill the mighty caverns with shadows. It would not help Arkonen, however, for he was trapped in the Land of the Dead, where dark power was scarce. Bane described the runes a sixth time, muttering their names. The rain ran from his hair, spiked his lashes and stung his eyes. It soaked through his cloak and trickled down his back in icy streams. He turned towards the last Source, raising his aching hands to begin the painful gestures a final time, his burnt skin cracking and starting to bleed.
His fingers would barely move, and he almost made a mistake, catching himself as the command slithered, seeking to defy him. His hands jerked and the ground shivered, then he regained control and completed the sequence, made the final gesture and shouted the command. The rumbling lasted a long time as the gate dragged closed, almost failing. Then the boom of closure came through the hissing rain, and Bane struggled to remain on his feet, shivers racking him. He described the seventh and final set of runes with shaking hands, almost whispering their names, and the remaining dark magic rushed to the earth, vanishing into it.
Bane raised his head, letting the rain beat on his face, not because he enjoyed it, but because its chill touch revived him. Lifting his arms, he spread his bleeding hands towards the clouds as if to rip them asunder, and then slowly moved them apart. Dark power flowed from his fingers, touched the clouds, and tore them open, thinning their blackness to grey. They drifted apart, and the world brightened.
The Demon Lord fell to his knees, his aching hands curled against his chest. Blood ran down them to drip from his wrists. What little strength he had possessed was gone, and the world receded into a grey haze. He barely noticed the cart rattle up and Ellese’s worried words as the four healers carried him to it.
The deed was done, the dark power banished from the Overworld and sent below, the Sources closed. Already, the clouds drifted away, thinning and lightening, allowing watery light to come through. The runes burnt in sullen agreement with the angry power in his blood, inlficting waves of pain. He leashed it savagely, imposed his will upon it and snuffed out the fire in the runes, then darkness claimed him.
The Lady shifted and sighed on her radiant bed as the realm around her brightened, regaining some of its pearly glow. The power she had sent into the Overworld to aid the healers seeped back, drawn to its source, and the denizens of her realm stirred from their lethargy. Her hand crept to the bluish welts on her arm and clasped them, white fire riming her fingertips, but she continued to sleep.