Friendship
Bane strolled along a corridor towards number three mess hall, where Drevarin resided and most of the surviving refugees socialised. After three days of rest, some of Bane’s strength had returned, and someone had washed and repaired his clothes while he slept. The corridors were almost deserted, making him surmise that the survivors of Tolrar’s rampage rested, too. The crewmen he did encounter stepped out of his path, and a few ducked into doorways ahead to avoid him.
In the mess hall, the refugees sat around tables, drinking ale or tea, some eating, and the low hum of conversation ceased at his entry. Most of the refugees still regarded him with deep wariness, but several managed weak smiles and nodded, and a few stood up and bowed. Mirra sat with the other women, engrossed in a conversation. They looked around and smiled, as did Grem and Mithran, who played a card game with Artan and two other men. Drevarin, who reclined on his couch, gazing into an Eye, cast Bane a smile, and the buzz of voices resumed.
Mirra came over to hug and kiss him. “Come, sit with us. We shall have tea and biscuits.”
He shook his head, unnerved by the thought of joining the female discussion. “I think not. I am on my way to see Sarjan. I thought maybe you, Mithran and Grem might like to come with me.”
She studied him. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing; I just thought it would do Sarjan good to see me as a man, rather than a god.”
“He does not see you as a god. He does not believe in them.”
“A dra’voren, then.”
Mithran and Grem approached, and Mithran clasped Bane’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you back on your feet, Son. How are you?”
“I am well, Father.”
“Bane wishes us to go with him to talk to Commander Sarjan,” Mirra said.
“Of course,” Mithran declared. “We should all go.”
Grem nodded, and Ethra ran up, Sarrin following at a sedate pace, while Nikira hung back.
Drevarin sat up and looked around. “Are we on a quest, then?”
“Not exactly,” Bane said.
“Count me in.”
“Wonderful. I hope we can all fit into that little room that goes up and down.”
“That’s a lift,” Nikira said.
Ethra scowled at the ex-commander. “Don’t try to make Bane appear foolish just because he doesn’t know what you call your silly room that goes up and down.”
“I wasn’t; I was just trying to help.”
“He doesn’t need your help, he’s -”
“Ethra,” Bane said, “stop it.”
“She’s -”
“That is enough.”
“But -”
“Shush.” He wagged a finger at her.
The girl heaved a dramatic sigh and shot Nikira a glare.
Mirra cast him a smile. “When Sarjan sees you surrounded by your entourage of female admirers, and how well you keep the peace, I am sure he will no longer be able to think of you as a dra’voren.”
Bane snorted and turned away, only to almost bump into Grem, who raised his chin and said, “You’ll have my sword beside you if there’s any trouble.”
Ethra glowered at Grem. “He doesn’t need your protection, he’s -”
“Ethra.” Bane shook his head at the mutinous child. “I do not need you championing my cause every time someone says something.”
“But they’re -”
“My friends; and they are only trying to help.”
“Disrespectful.” Ethra muttered, almost inaudibly, since she knew she was out of line.
Bane opened his mouth to continue the debate, but Mirra slipped her arm around his waist. “Hush, husband, you will not win this argument.”
Bane smiled and headed for the door, the little troop following. The lift ride to the bridge was a cramped affair, and Drevarin opted for a less crowded route. Mirra ensured she was closest to her husband, pressed against his chest by Mithran’s broad back. Even so, when the lift doors slid open to disgorge its packed contents, Bane was glad to quit its close and rather smelly confines. He resolved to speak to Mithran and Grem about personal hygiene, for, while a weekly bath had been sufficient and understandable when they had lived in a forest and had to bathe in an icy lake, there was no excuse for lack of washing on a ship equipped with easy to use ablution facilities. The two men had stuck to their weekly wash routines even after Bane had provided hot baths in the cabins with the blue power, but now the ship’s confines made hygiene more of a necessity than a luxury.
The bridge crew turned to stare at the invaders, and Sarjan straightened from studying a minion’s screen. His eyes raked the group and came to rest upon Bane, who approached him. The commander held his ground, his expression wary. Bane was aware of his followers spreading out amongst the consoles to peer, poke and point. Drevarin entered through a wall, causing several officers to jump up and retreat.
Bane stopped a pace away from the commander, sensing the man’s deep unease at his proximity. “Commander Sarjan. I am grateful for your aid when I was injured.”
“Ah, well it was nothing, really.”
“I disagree. It took a great deal of courage to keep your word when you thought I was your enemy.” Bane paused. “And yet, you are still afraid of me. Rest assured, you are in no danger, and would not be even if I had power.”
“You don’t? I mean… I thought you’d have gathered more by now.”
“No. I loathe the darkness. I cast it out whenever I do not require it.”
Sarjan glanced around at his men. “So you don’t plan to destroy this ship?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Because it’s a threat to you.”
“Do you intend to hunt me down and kill me?” Bane enquired.
“No.”
“Well then, I have nothing to fear, and neither do you. We can be allies, Sarjan, if you are prepared to put aside your preconceptions.”
“That won’t be easy for many of my crewmen.”
“I understand. You have lived with the threat of dark gods for a long time, so it must be hard to accept that I am different. But I am. Allow me to present my family and friends.” Bane introduced all the group’s members except Nikira, whom he assumed Sarjan already knew. Drevarin waved from his perch on a console. Several officers cast them disbelieving looks, and Sarjan was clearly gobsmacked, as Bane intended.
“So you see,” he said, “I am just a man with a few friends and family.”
“I know you’re not just a man, though.”
“Do you still think I am a dra’voren?”
Sarjan hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, that is an improvement, I suppose.”
Two officers muttered, and Ethra, who stood within earshot of them, scowled and marched closer to shout, “Take that back!”
Bane turned to her. “Ethra, leave them.”
“They’re rude! And stupid!”
“Come away. They are entitled to their opinions and prejudices.”
“But not their ignorance!” she said. “Tell them they’re wrong! We’re not your slaves, or under your spell, and we’re not too afraid to argue with you.”
“You are certainly giving a good display of just how unafraid you are.”
“They don’t even appreciate that you saved their world from four dark gods!”
“Four?” Sarjan asked Bane. “So you destroyed the one who attacked the ship?”
“No, I cast him down. That was when the beast god attacked me. It was his ally.”
“How long before they return?”
Bane shrugged. “It will take them a few months to gather enough power.”
“And then what happens? Can’t you destroy them?”
“I could, but I prefer not to. It is unpleasant for me. I will set wards in your world, powerful artefacts that will trap them in the Underworld where they cannot harm you; at least, not as much. They will still be able to snatch people, but that happens rarely.”
“What about the fiend?”
Bane smiled. “Is he giving your people a headache?”
“I’ve given up questioning him.”
“I thought you would. But I cannot dismiss him without power. You can shred him, or order him to leave the ship, but would it not be useful to have a demon at your command?”
“Maybe,” Sarjan admitted. “And the droge?”
“Again, I cannot rescind his form without power. If you want to be rid of him, shred him.”
“So… what can you do without your power?”
Ethra, who wandered about, pushing buttons and twisting knobs and scowling at the officers who corrected her adjustments, glared at Sarjan. “He can do anything he wants, roast you on the spot, turn you to stone, make you -”
Bane said, “Ethra!”
“What?” She thrust out her chin.
“Stop trying to frighten everyone.”
“If they’re too stupid to see that you’re good, they don’t deserve your friendship.”
“You are not helping by telling them I can roast them on the spot, are you? You do not even know that. You are just making it up.”
“I bet you can.” Ethra smiled, then swung around as one of the officers muttered and bellowed at him, “I am not brainwashed!” She glanced at Bane. “What’s brainwashed?”
“Forced to think in a certain way.”
The girl approached him. “You can command the seas to part and the stars to fall, yet you let these idiots think you’re evil.”
Bane wondered what was going through Sarjan’s mind, but he appeared to be interested in the answer. “And how does having that power prove I am not?”
“Because if you were evil you’d do it.”
“They think I am a destroyer, and you think if I destroy things it will convince them I am not?”
“No… What about if you fixed things?” she asked.
“Such as?”
“The ship is damaged, isn’t it? I heard people talking about it. There are wounded people, too. Mirra could help them.”
Bane cocked an eyebrow at Sarjan. “Would that allay your fears?”
“Can you do that without your power?” the commander enquired.
“Yes.”
“But… if you can do that, you must have power.”
“Not the darkness.”
Mirra said, “I did not know there were injured people on the ship. I would like to help them.”
Bane gestured to the lift. “Take us to your wounded, Sarjan.”
The commander led the way to the lift, where Bane turned to the little crowd at his heels. “We are not all squeezing in there again. Father, Grem, Sarrin, let Commander Nikira show you the way. I will go ahead with Sarjan.”
In the lift, he remarked to Mirra, “I am surprised you did not sense their pain.”
“So am I.”
Sarjan said, “Our wounded crewmembers have been given painkillers.”
“That explains it,” Bane observed.
“Your wife can sense pain?”
“She is a healer, so yes, she can, if they are close enough.”
“Why doesn’t Drevarin heal my men, like he healed you?” Sarjan asked.
“Gods are a funny bunch.”
“But you’re one too, or so you claim.”
“He is!” Ethra declared.
“Hush,” Bane rebuked her, then addressed Sarjan. “I am not like them, being mortal. I am inclined to do things they will not. They have all kinds of rules, regulations and rigmaroles, which I tend to ignore. You could call me an upstart god, I suppose, although I find being called a god… discomfiting. I prefer to think of myself as a man.”
“The fiend says you are one,” Sarjan said, “but what do you think a god is?”
“Someone who can create or destroy a world.”
“Yeah, I guess that would qualify as a god’s powers.”
Ethra piped up, “And Bane could destroy your world if he -”
“Ethra!” Bane said.
She pouted. “Why won’t you let me tell him stuff?”
“You are trying to frighten him.”
“He should be frightened. He -”
“Stop it. I will put you over my knee if you do not behave.”
Sarjan glanced from one to the other, then said to Bane, “Presumably, if you have all these powers, you could easily silence an impertinent child.”
“But he wouldn’t,” Ethra retorted, “because he’s good!”
“It will not stop me paddling your backside,” Bane warned.
The commander shook his head. “I saw you attack a dra’voren, yet you let a little girl be cheeky to you.”
Bane smiled. “And what does that tell you?”
“That maybe you’re not evil, unless this is a bloody good act and she’s your puppet.”
The girl scowled. “I’m not a puppet!”
The lift doors opened, and Sarjan led the way down a short corridor to a spacious, spotless white room lined with beds. White-clad medical personnel hurried up and down the aisle, tending to their patients. Mirra went to the closest injured man and placed her hands on his bandaged chest, and within moments he opened his eyes, gasping a little. Bane knew how wonderful it was to be healed, and understood the awe and amazement on the man’s face. Mirra made her way from bed to bed, and the doctors followed, releasing the men from the tubes and needles that fed them medicine.
Sarjan shook his head in wonder. “That’s… a miracle.”
“Yes,” Bane agreed. “A pity I cannot do that. It would doubtless convince you of my good intentions. Perhaps I can bask in my wife’s reflected glory.”
After watching Mirra for a few minutes, Sarjan said, “Perhaps we should go and have a look at the damaged areas now, while your wife’s busy.”
“I will wait for her.”
“She’ll be quite safe, I assure you.”
“I am not concerned about her safety.”
Sarjan was clearly puzzled by this, and Bane thought he would enquire about the reason for Bane’s lack of concern, but then he merely said, “Of course.”
“Are you going to kowtow to me now, Sarjan?”
“Is it required?”
Ethra snorted.
Bane shot her a quelling look. “Not by me.”
The rest of Bane’s little group joined them, and after a further ten minutes Mirra returned, her task complete. All the former patients were sitting up or rising to don their uniforms, while the doctors and medics stood in a murmuring group.
Sarjan led the way along several corridors to an area that fire had ravaged, where he turned to Bane with an expectant expression. Evidently the ship’s skeleton crew could not spare men to clear away the wreckage and make even temporary repairs. Bane wondered what Sarjan thought he was about to see, and whether what would happen would fulfil the commander’s expectations.
Bane studied the melted walls, scorched floor and warped ceiling for several moments before he closed his eyes and stretched forth his senses. His awareness brushed metal alloys, peculiar, unnatural materials and others derived from plants and animals. He so rarely used his inborn powers that his lack of experience made what should have been an easy task harder. Causing substances to burn was probably the simplest use of his natural abilities. Remaking destroyed structures was a lot more complicated. When he had used the dark power to do this in the past, it had just been a matter of commanding it to do his bidding, now he had to remake the corridor himself.
Opening his eyes, he spread his hands towards the destruction. The air filled with a deep, vibrating hum as he took hold of the substance of reality, and the floor shivered. Bane envisaged the damaged area as it must have once looked, just like the rest of the ship, and commanded the matter to return into its former shape and state. The hum intensified, then, with a rush of movement, air and a soft crunch, the ruined corridor reformed.
Sarjan’s mouth dropped open, and Ethra crowed with delight. Mithran and Grem beamed, Sarrin clasped her hands and Mirra giggled at Sarjan’s stunned expression. Nikira gazed at Bane with wide, awe-stricken eyes.
Sarjan closed his mouth. “How did you do that?”
Bane shrugged. “I command all matter.”
“So you just…”
“Commanded it to return to its former state.”
“Like turning back time, almost.”
“Almost.”
The commander faced Bane. “Okay, you’ve convinced me that you’re not a dra’voren. I don’t believe you’re a god, either, but you’re certainly strange.”
Bane nodded at Drevarin. “Do you believe he’s a creator?”
“Maybe.”
“You are a hard man to convince, Sarjan, as, I suspect, the rest of your people will be. They do not want to believe in gods. They prefer to think they have the ultimate power. Unfortunately for them, they do not. They are pitting themselves against us, and they will lose. The sooner they realise that, the better.” Bane wandered away along the corridor, Mirra beside him, the rest tagging along behind.
Sarjan fell into step with him. “Will you fix the other damaged areas now?”
“Some, but it is tiring, and I have yet to regain my full strength.”
“How do you do it?”
“With my mind.”
Ethra said, “He can also take control of -”
“Ethra…”
“What?”
Mirra giggled at the girl’s indignant tone.
Bane smiled. “How about you let me give the explanations?”
“You aren’t doing a very good job of it.”
Sarjan chuckled, shaking his head. “Was she ever afraid of you?”
“No. She hated me at first. She wanted to kill me, and she tried a couple of times, too.”
“I was misled!” Ethra said.
“You stopped her?” Sarjan asked Bane.
“No. She could not go through with it, apparently.”
“Sherinias had a bash at that, too,” Drevarin commented from the rear of the group.
“And Nikira,” Bane added.
“That wasn’t my idea,” the former commander protested. “I didn’t want to.”
“I suppose most people will want to remove a perceived threat to their lives,” Sarjan said.
“That was certainly Sherinias’ motivation,” Bane agreed. “I only know one person who has never feared me and very few who have not tried to kill me.”
Mirra smiled and slipped her arm through his. “I instantly fell in love with you.”
“Was that before or after I tried to burn you to a crisp?”
“Before, of course, but it did not change my feelings.”
He turned his head to smile at her. “At least I gave you reason to fear me, but it seems to come naturally to everyone else.”
“That is because they do not know you, you big dolt.”
“You see what I have to put up with, Sarjan? A cheeky child and a wife who bullies me, a bossy spirit father and a spoilt sister.”
Sarjan nodded. “You certainly come across as nothing more than a man. Why did you want to prove to me that you’re not a dra’voren?”
“You have earned my respect.”
After a brief silence, Sarjan asked, “Who wasn’t scared of you?”
Bane’s smile broadened. “Drevarin.”
Sarjan cast a look of deep respect back at the light god. They arrived at another damaged area, worse than the last. Smoke rose from a hole in the floor, and the melted walls around it slumped into hardened pools of metal. Above it, another hole in the ceiling revealed that this was where one of Tolrar’s conduits of black fire had penetrated the ship, seeking vital areas to destroy.
Sarjan went to the edge of the hole and peered into it. “It goes right down to the engine room.”
Bane closed his eyes, spread his hands towards the affected area and reached out with his mind to examine the areas below and above the damaged floor, following the trail of destruction Tolrar’s fire had left. Just like when he summoned substance from afar, he used his expanded awareness to sense things he could not see. A far-see was another way of doing this, although not quite the same and not available to him without the dark power. Spreading his hands helped his concentration, for, unlike when he summoned bits of a mountain or magma from deep underground, he needed to understand the intricate nature of the structure he wished to remake. The air thrummed, then the damage vanished with a flash of movement, a whisper of air and dull thud.
Sarjan stared at the remade corridor. “Can you do that to anything?”
“Yes.”
“Could you destroy something the same way?”
“Yes.”
“Have you -?”
“No.” Bane strolled on down the corridor. “I am tired now. I will restore the rest tomorrow.”
The commander stepped aside to allow the others to pass, and they turned into a side corridor to return to the mess hall. Bane and Mirra continued to their cabin, where he flopped down on the sofa, rubbing his brow.
Mirra sat beside him, her eyes full of concern. “That takes a lot out of you, does it not?”
“I am still weak, but yes, it does.”
“You should lie down.”
“I will be all right.” He lowered his hand and smiled at her.
“We should adopt Ethra.”
He stared at her in surprise. “What?”
“Come on, Bane, you know you love her too.”
He snorted. “You jest. She is a nuisance.”
“She is trying to impress you, and be useful. She thinks it will persuade you not to leave her in Drevarin’s domain.”
He groaned. “I cannot keep accumulating hangers on. She is a child.”
“She is clever and resourceful, and she loves you.”
“You truly want this?”
“Yes. Artan and Sarrin have asked to stay with us, too.”
He groaned again. “Soon I will have an entire village traipsing after me, demanding food, protection and shelter.”
“I think that is part of being a god.”
“Do not start.”
She climbed onto his lap and clasped his face, kissed him and drew back to stroke the wings of hair from his brow. “She will be a good daughter, and help me when we have children of our own.”
“I will help you… and you are not planning on doing that any time soon, I hope?”
“Do you not want children?”
“Not while we are traipsing through the God Realm with a ragtag bunch of vagabonds in tow.”
“When we get home.”
He smiled. “I look forward to it. How many would you like?”
“Three, I think.”
“I want a dozen.”
“Then you can have the other nine yourself.”
He quelled a chuckle and feigned a shocked expression. “Are you shirking your wifely duty?”
“That had better be a joke.”
“A compromise, then: seven and a half.”
“Counting Ethra?”
“No.”
She giggled and hugged him, burying her face in his hair. “Promise me you will not do anything dangerous for a while?”
“I will do my best.”
“Good.” She sighed and snuggled up to him.
He bent his head and whispered, “How about six?”
She giggled again. “Three.”
“Five?”
“Three.”
“Spoilsport.”