T. C. Southwell

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CHAPTER FOUR (cont)

Fire Demon

The next day the army rested in the foothills. Mord dragged Mirra out of the tent at an irritated grunt from Bane, to spend the day with Benton and his companions, sitting around a campfire. Bane appeared to be in a fouler mood than usual, glaring at her until she left, his headache troubling him. She had discovered that when he had a headache he did not bother with his cruelties and torments, preferring to be alone. She listened to the stories that the soldiers swapped, sipping hot tea and nibbling on candied fruits and cakes looted from the larders of the abandoned farms and shops in the village that they had passed through two days before.

The men of Benton's group had discovered that Mirra would not eat meat, and no longer offered it to her. Instead they made a point of collecting sweets and pastries for her, which otherwise they would have scorned, and the good food added to her strength a little, although her appetite remained poor.

Bane spent most of the day in his tent, emerging in the afternoon to stroll through the army, men, trolls and goblins fleeing from him. He did not approach Mirra's companions, but the men still watched his progress warily, their eyes filled with hatred and dread. When he had once more vanished into his tent, Benton relaxed, turning to Mirra.

"I don't know how you can stand to be near him, Mirra, he's so full of evil, it makes us sick.

She smiled. "He does not worry me, other than his suffering."

"He's a demon," Madick asserted.

"No he's not," Benton argued, "demons can't get past the wards. He's the Demon Lord, and evil, his soul is as corrupt as the Black Lord's."

"An' what's going to happen when the wards are all gone?" another soldier asked.

Benton shrugged. "We'll be ruled by the Black Lord, I guess."

Silence fell as the men digested this. Mirra thought about Bane's assurance that they would all die when the Black Lord rose, but said nothing, for it would only upset them. For now, they were safe, but if they knew the fate that lay in store for them, they might attempt to rebel, and die all the sooner.

A rock howler limped over to them, and the men let him approach Mirra. He had a cut foot, which she healed. Rock howlers wore no garment other than their thick red pelts, and their horny feet needed no shoes, usually. From time to time, members of Bane's army came to her for healing, and she denied none, not even those whom she recognised as the perpetrators of the atrocities.

The rock howler offered her a sweet pastry in payment, which she accepted with a smile. At first, the men she healed had tried to give her jewels that they had looted, but these she had rejected. Now they gave her only food, though some gave nothing. The first time that had happened, Benton had been enraged, but Mirra had stopped him with a gentle touch.

"Do not be angry," she said, "he is lost, and I require no payment."

Benton looked confused, and the man whom she had healed snarled and stomped off. After that, he did not object.

Mirra shivered as the cold mountain wind cut through her coat. Long shadows crept across the land as dusk fell. Soon she would have to return to Bane's tent for the night. Stretching her hands out to the fire, she tried to absorb more heat through her palms. The silence left by the rock howler's visit remained unbroken, the men sunk in private, morose thoughts. She gazed at the hot, flickering flames, remembering her life at the abbey, a smile curving her lips. A muttered curse from one of the men plucked her from her reverie, and she looked up to find them scrambling away from the fire.

Mirra followed their gaze, and snatched her hands back with a gasp. The warm red flames were flecked with green and black. She sat frozen, staring at the sickly fire.

"Mirra! Get away from it!" Benton hissed from the shadows where he hid.

Mirra could not tear her eyes away, held by an awful fascination as the flames leapt higher, streaked with sickly colours. A circle of black crept outward from the fire, the grass shrivelling to ash. At her feet, it stopped, creeping around her.

With a dull thud, the flames leapt upward in a column, green and yellow, streaked with purple, black and orange. The column writhed, seven feet tall, sprouting arms and a head, vaguely man-like, only it had six arms, each dripping fire. Mirra was rooted to the ground, dazed by the intense evil that emanated from the form.

Three molten yellow eyes appeared in the head, blazing like beacons. Their light fell on her, and she flung up her arms with a cry. Where the light touched, she burned. Her healing power leapt to her defence, healing the burns as they appeared, blocking the pain of it from her mind. The fire demon's eyes brightened, and a black slit appeared below the eyes as it laughed.

"You cannot defy me for long, slut; your powers are no match for mine." It spoke in a grating hiss, like the sound of wood burning.

Mirra experienced the same sickness that Bane's power had caused, but the demon's fire burned as his had not. The stink of charring flesh assailed her, and her ears rang with the demon's grating laughter. Regaining the ability to move, she tried to crawl away from it, but it formed legs and stepped out of the fire.

"You cannot run from me, human!"

Her strength waned, and she slumped against the charred grass, her healing power draining from her to fight the terrible fire of the demon's eyes.

A shadow fell on her, blocking the demon's power and bringing blessed relief to her burning body. She looked up at Bane, who stood over her, facing the demon.

"Mealle," he murmured, and the demon's eyes dimmed. "How nice of you to visit. I did not think you would be able to yet, with only two wards broken."

The demon stepped back, shrinking slightly. "The Black Lord sent me, my powers are weak still. He ordered her death, and you have failed to obey him."

Bane stepped aside, turning to look down at Mirra. "Is he so worried about one puny human female? I wonder why? She is my toy, Mealle, not my father’s; I will decide what happens to her. She affords me a little amusement at the moment, when I tire of her, I will kill her."

"You dare to defy the Black Lord?" Mealle's eyes brightened, but their baleful glare did not appear to worry Bane.

"I do not deny my father; I will obey him, when I am ready."

"He ordered you to kill her now."

Bane shook his head. "I have done everything he has asked of me, but in this trivial matter, I choose to please myself. He wants the people who stand against him to suffer, and she does, all the time. Why should I grant her the release of death? She will not go to his kingdom, she is a healer. I will corrupt her, and then he will be able to torment her too."

The fire demon seemed mollified. "I understand, Bane, your thinking is sound. I do not know why your father craves her death so much, but I will tell him what you said, perhaps he will understand too."

Bane smiled coldly at the demon, his eyes bright in the elemental's lurid light. "Good. Now, begone!"

For a moment Mealle's black mouth rounded in surprise, then he vanished in an implosion of air, leaving only a bad smell.

Bane looked down at Mirra. "Get up."

Shakily she stood, offering a timid smile. "Thank you, Bane."

He scowled. "For what? Denying you an end to your suffering? Are you so stupid that you cannot see that the demon was the one who did you a favour?"

"No. I do not want to die."

Bane leaned closer. "That is good, witch, because you will not until I kill you, and by then you will be begging me for it. But even then it will not be a favour; you will become my father's toy after me." He smiled, a slow, cruel expression that made her shiver. "No healer has ever descended to the Underworld, you will be the first, and my father will enjoy having you. It will be an achievement for me, to send a healer down."

Gripping her arm, he dragged her back to his tent, where he flung her to the ground, fastening the rope to a peg. Her hands were no longer bound, but she knew the futility of trying to escape, it would only cause one or more of the men to suffer as her punishment. She looked up at him as he sat on the bed.

"Why did you dismiss the demon?"

Bane's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I did not have to?"

"It looked so surprised; it would have left on its own, would it not?"

He smiled. "Yes, he was about to." The smile vanished. "I do not want the likes of Mealle up here. This is my war, and until three more wards are broken, I do not expect to have them bothering me. By banishing him, I ensured that he cannot return for seven days." A satisfied look settled on his features. "It is also unpleasant, humiliating for him."

Mirra nodded, her eyelids drooping with exhaustion, her strength drained by her ordeal. She lay down with a sigh, longing for sleep, but Bane gripped her arm and jerked her upright, his pain pulsing through her.

"I have not finished with you, witch." His brows drew together. "Why does my father want you dead?"

She shook her head, bewildered. "I do not know."

"Why can I not hurt you physically?"

"You can!"

"No, I could kill you, break your neck, throttle you, drown you, but you do not bleed, or bruise, and your bones do not break."

"I am a healer."

Bane snarled, "I have killed healers, and they bled, bruised and died from their injuries. I burned them with my power, but you did not feel it, and even Mealle had trouble. Do you not know that the eyes of a fire demon should reduce a human to ash, instantly? One eye should cook you very quickly, and he had three on you."

"I do not know. He did burn me, he would have killed me. Elder Mother said that I was exceptional, that is why she sent me out early."

He released her arm, pushing her away. "Really. So you are just a very powerful healer. That had better be all you are."

Mirra nodded timid assurance, and he glared at her for a moment, then seemed to lose interest in the subject and unclipped his cloak. She waited while he pulled off his boots and lay down, pulling the blanket over himself, then curled up on the cold floor.

Chapter 4 Continued