T. C. Southwell

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CHAPTER SIX (cont)

Water Demon

When Mirra woke, daylight shone through the big window at the back of the empty cabin. She climbed onto the rumpled bed and gazed out at the grey, heaving sea. Her head ached, and her swollen face throbbed. The cut on her arm had almost healed, but she knew that bruises bloomed in her cheeks, and she fingered the scab in her hair. She had thought that Bane would kill her, but he had only slapped her, the blows almost gentle compared with the ferocity with which he had beaten her before. It seemed that he did not wish to kill her yet. Now she could help no one, not even herself. Bane's suffering saddened her even more now that she had only her skills with herbs to fall back on, a puny resource compared with her power. Perhaps she could not have healed him while he was filled with the dark magic, but she could have eased his suffering.

The door opened, and she turned with a smile. Benton stood there, looking furtive. He closed the door and strode over to her, cupping her bruised cheek in his rough hand.

"Why did he do this?"

She sighed. "He has so much anger ..."

"He's a damned monster!"

"No. He needs help, but now I can do little for him."

Benton groaned, looking exasperated. "Mirra, you're such a gentle, forgiving girl, you can't see that he's bad to the core."

She put her hand on his. "No one is bad to the core, Benton."

"I wish I could help you."

"Do not try, you will only suffer. Where is he?"

"Up in the bow, with that ... thing of his." He took something from his pocket. "Here, I brought you something to eat; I doubt that he's bothered to feed you." He handed her a small paper packet.

Mirra tore it open, wolfing the sweet bread and apple inside.

Benton watched her for a moment. "I must go, if he finds me here, he'll kill me."

Mirra nodded, her mouth full, and he left with a smile of gentle reassurance. After she had eaten, she returned to her perusal of the cold sea.

Bane returned at dusk, ignoring her timid smile as she got off the bed. He studied her bruised face, grasping her chin and turning it this way and that in the lamplight. His grip hurt, his strong fingers digging into her flesh with unfeeling brutality.

"Most impressive. As soon as they heal, I will give you some more."

Mirra stepped back as he released her, tears stinging her eyes. He chuckled nastily and stretched out on the bed with a sigh, ignoring her again as she curled up on the floor, rocked to sleep by the ship's motion.

Mirra was dragged from her exhausted slumber by the drunken lurching of the ship and the howling of the wind, mingled with the distant sound of banging doors and breaking glass. Pale watery light came through the window, and Bane lay on the bunk, clad only in his trousers. The captain's distant bellow of "Landlubbers!" mixed with the snapping of loose canvas and the thuds and cries of the men as they struggled with the sails. The wind keened in the rigging, and the hull boomed as it crashed through the deep troughs. The ship shuddered, creaking and groaning as if it was being torn apart by the storm. Bane gazed out of the window, apparently enjoying the tempest. He looked around as she sat up.

"Seems I overdid the bad weather," he commented dryly.

"Can you stop it?"

He shrugged. "Naturally. But it will give me a headache."

"People could be hurt."

"So?"

"The ship might sink."

"I will not let it," he assured her, scowling.

Mirra nodded, huddling against a cupboard. Bane stretched, yawned and rubbed his eyes, all such normal human actions that she smiled. The rune scars on his chest were still an angry red after his last ritual, stark against his pale skin. He rose and pulled on his boots, tunic and cloak, then strode out of the cabin. Mirra climbed onto the still warm bed and gazed out at the wild sea, fascinated by its awesome power. After a while she decided to venture on deck for some fresh air, and to experience the fury of the storm. She found a warm cloak in the closet and wrapped herself in it, then climbed the steep stairs to the deck.

Above, bedlam reigned. The wind shrieked through the rigging with unbridled glee, ripping at the tough storm sails. Lashing rain, mixed with spray, drummed on the deck of the wallowing ship. The captain roared orders at the scurrying men, who slipped on the wet deck as they tripped over ropes snaking about like live things. Sheets of spray flew over the ship, drenching the struggling men as they fought wet rigging and slippery fittings. Torn canvass littered the deck amid snapped spars and broken rigging.

The men lashed themselves to the masts and railings as they staggered to and fro, the ship heeling and listing, rearing over huge waves and plunging into deep troughs amid cascades of salt spray. The Sea Bird ran from the wind, spilling most of the gale from the ragged canvas. Huge walls of water reared over the stern, threatening to engulf the ship, but it rose up the swells like a cork, making her knees buckle with the added gravity. As it crested the swells, her weight became normal, then she seemed apt to float off the deck as the ship slid down into the next trough. Smaller waves boomed against the hull, whipped up by the veering wind, drenching the deck and crew.

Bane stood in the bows, riding the plunging ship like a mettlesome steed. His clothes were dry, for little spray came over the bows, and he was in the lee of the jib, which protected him from any that did. The Demon Steed stood nearby, as steady as if nailed to the deck. She crept out further, spying the captain, who clung to the wheel, lashed to it, his burnt face rimed with salt. A wave smashed against the ship, stinging her cheek with spray, and she revelled in its cool wetness. Clinging to handholds, Mirra ventured onto the deck, darting over to the railing, where the whole panorama of stormy sea and heaving ship lay before her. The wind tore at her, amazing her with its power. Black clouds raced overhead, and distant thunder boomed.

Holding onto the rail, she watched the men run about, lashing rigging, putting up fresh storm sails and clearing away debris. A wave splashed her, making her gasp at its iciness. Deciding that it was too cold and wet on deck, she started back to the cabin. A huge wave broke over the side of the ship as she released her grip on the rail, sweeping her feet from under her. She was washed across the deck, desperately trying to grab something, but the water pulled her, dragging her to the far rail. Another wave swept over the ship, foaming with white spume. Mirra was picked up and carried through the railings, flailing wildly as she tried to grab a rope or stanchion. Nothing came to hand, and as the grey water rushed up at her, she screamed.

The Demon Lord's head jerked around at the faint scream that mingled with the howling of the wind. He knew at once that the healer had been swept overboard; his magically enhanced senses told him so. With a distasteful look at the grey ocean, he ran lithely back to the men amidships. They fled from him, all but one, who slipped and fell. He grabbed the man, shouting over his gibbering shrieks.

"The healer fell in, go get her!"

Bane tossed the man overboard, and he was swallowed up by the raging sea. A smirk tugged at Bane's lips. "Not able swim, hmmm? I would wager that stupid girl cannot either."

The smirk vanished, and he frowned. "So be it. Good riddance."

Still he felt no satisfaction at her death, and as he stood at the rail and stared down, a strange sense of loss came over him. Bane fought it. He did not need her, she was just a toy, one with which he was growing tired of playing. Her pain brought little satisfaction any more, and her death would please his father. His father. Of course, the Black Lord was behind this, not a freak wave. Bane smiled. This was a challenge.

The cold water engulfed Mirra, and she fought to rise to the air above. Salt stung her eyes and nose as she struggled, her heart hammering. She could swim, but not well enough to survive a sea like this. She prayed that someone had heard her scream, and would throw a rope. Gasping in sweet air, she choked as a wave leapt into her open mouth, making her cough and wheeze as the salt closed her airway. Something cold gripped her ankle, and she was dragged under, thrashing. She called out in the language of the sea, joining her voice to the great Song of the sea.

The Song wafted around her, drifting on currents, calm beneath the raging surface. If not for her burning lungs, it would have been pleasant, but cold. Her chest convulsed, trying to suck air, but she kept her mouth closed. Her stomach clenched, and no matter how hard she swam, she continued to sink. No current flowed down so strongly.

A grey shape barrelled out of the blue gloom, slowing beside her. Mirra gripped the smooth fin, and the dolphin lashed its flukes, powering for the surface. They broke through in a spray of water, and she gasped blessed air, clinging to the smooth grey shape beside her. The dolphin supported her, and its calm, beautiful Song soothed her. More grey shapes broke the surface nearby, sending up gusts of spray with soft puffing sounds. She joined the Song again, singing her love for these gentle, generous animals that had come to save her.

A cold hand gripped her ankle and dragged her down, breaking her grip on the dolphin. She screamed, her air rushing out in a stream of bubbles as terror swept through her in an icy tide. The dolphins responded, concerned but frightened, and a grey shape slipped up beside her. As she reached for its fin, a burst of dark power came from below, and the dolphin convulsed, shuddering horribly, its air bubbling from its blow hole. A demon. She looked down, but little was visible in the gloom. The dolphin lay still beside her, its gentle eye blank in death. Mirra released its body as the Song of its companions turned to sorrow. The one that they had just lost was a father, brother, son and mate to them, and their grieving Song washed over her.

Mirra added her sorrow to theirs, and they accepted her grief, another grey shape slipping up beside her. Mirra pushed it away, crying out a warning, and in a moment the dolphins had vanished, leaving only their Song behind. The dead dolphin floated upwards, and Mirra joined the Song again as she sank into the black depths, pulled downwards by the demon's grip on her ankle.

Bane leant over the rail and glared at the raging sea, cursing his father. Now he would not only get a headache, he would have to get wet too. He hated water in any form, and if there was one thing worse than the accursed rain, it was this vast expanse of cold sea. It was probably part of his father's plan, to see if he would get wet in order to rescue his plaything from the depths. Cursing again, he flung off his cloak and leapt from the ship.

The sea held no danger for him, although he had never been taught to swim, since there was no water in the Underworld. The dark power protected him, and other than being wet and cold, the sea could not harm him. He dived into the water and down, propelled by dark power. The Song of the sea repelled him, its harmony a discord to his ears. Grey shapes darted past, vanishing into the gloom, trailing grief. He sensed the girl's presence like a beacon, and near her, the cloaked water demon.

Increasing his power, he rushed towards the fleeing demon, rapidly catching up, for its power was no match for his. But all it had to do was keep the girl under long enough to drown her, and it would have won. Spurred by anger, he moved faster still, determined not to be beaten. The limp body of the girl loomed before him, held by the water demon's power. He unleashed a burst of dark magic, forcing the demon to release the girl and retreat, radiating triumph. Bane swept up to her, gripped her limp body and powered for the surface.

Bursting from the water, he turned her to face him. She seemed to be dead, for her face was ashen, and she did not breathe, but her heart still beat. The waves hampered him, slapping and tossing him about, wind torn spray stinging his eyes. He knew that she must breathe again, or the Black Lord had won.

Bane winced at the prospect of the headache that would result from this, then gathered his power and rose out of the sea on a pillar of fire. Free of the beating waves, he put his mouth over hers and breathed air into her lungs. The touch of her cold lips revolted him, and his stomach heaved. Angrily he did it again, and this time she coughed, white foam oozing from her mouth. Turning her so that she spat it out, he let her choke and gag as he headed for the ship.

Mirra woke to find herself tucked under Bane's arm, floating above the sea on a column of black fire. The power coursed through him strongly, making her vomit, and he grunted in disgust, shifting his grip as if he longed to drop her. Steam swirled below, swept away by the wind, for where the fire touched, the water boiled. The Demon Lord travelled towards the distant ship, apparently without effort. The dark fire filled her with the terrible evil that radiated from him, now that she no longer had the power to ward it off.

Bane floated over the side of the ship, the fire scorching the deck before he cut it off, dropping onto the smouldering wood. Men hurled water on the burning deck as he strode away with his burden. He did not carry her far before dumping her on the deck, wiping his hair from his face and glaring down at her.

"Do not thank me, girl, you will pay for it."

The Demon Lord strode away, leaving her wheezing, trying to suck air through a raw throat. Benton appeared at her side, placing a dry blanket around her shoulders as the icy wind chilled her even more than the freezing sea had done, making her shiver violently. He rubbed her arms and chafed her hands, encouraging her to keep moving and not retreat into a shivering huddle.

When she was able to give a jerky nod, he helped her onto shaking legs, and she wobbled below with him. In the damp dimness of the crew's quarters, she sat on a bunk and drank the water that he gave her, the sweet taste a balm to her burning, salty mouth. Between them they managed to get her out of her wet robe, and Benton wrapped her in a dry blanket. She continued to shiver from shock as well as cold, longing for a cup of hot soup or tea to warm her frozen insides. But with all the crew fighting the storm, no fire was lit in the galley.

Benton sat beside her, shaking his head in wonder. "I never saw anything like that before, Healer. He just floated on that fire, like some damned awful dragon."

"He is very powerful."

"Evil too." He touched her bruised cheek. "Look what he does to you, and then he saves you."

She nodded. "I do not understand him either."

"It's like he thinks you belong to him. As if he keeps you alive because you're his, not because he likes you or anything."

Mirra rubbed her burning eyes, dampening a cloth to wipe the salt from her face. "He is confused and lonely. I like him."

"He's a monster. He's going to free the Black Lord and ruin this world. If I could, I'd fight him, but I can't, so I'm just staying alive as long as I can. Nobody likes him, Healer, not even his own father, I'll wager."

"No, probably not, but I do."

Benton shook his head. "You're just too good, Healer, you don't know what hate and anger are."

"I am glad of it, for they would do me no good."

The soldier gave a snort and got up. "I'd better get back on deck, there's still a storm out there. You stay here until you feel better."

Mirra smiled, and he climbed back up the steps to rejoin the battle with the storm. As soon as he had gone, she rose and reeled along the swaying passage to Bane's cabin.

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