T. C. Southwell

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CHAPTER SIX

Water Demon

Two days later they reached the sea town, Mirra forced to walk beside Bane's fiery Steed. The stallion horrified her, radiating dark power as the demons had, making her ill just to be near it. Its molten eyes sought her often, its gaze repellent.

The sea town had no fortifications of any kind. It clung to the peaceful beaches of a small cove, straggling into the surrounding countryside, where cultivated fields nestled between low walls made from loose rocks stacked upon each other, marking the boundaries of each farmer's land. The pretty white houses looked like toys in the distance, each with a grey thatched roof, set in a patchwork of rich brown and vivid green. Beyond them, the sea broke upon a white beach, deep blue edged with spume. This was a proper seaport; a long stone quay had been built along the rocky side of the cove, where deep water came right up to the land. Large warehouses lined the quay, and several ocean going ships were moored there.

At first Mirra thought that she would have to witness another slaughter, for this town was still inhabited, unlike those that they had passed through since the fishing village. But it soon became obvious that the people were prepared for the Demon Lord's appearance. Bells rang out in warning, and distant farmers fled into the town, abandoning their homes. Within a few minutes, ships started putting out to sea, laden with the erstwhile occupants of the city.

The evacuation must have been planned and drilled, for it was achieved with remarkable speed. Bane cursed, and the Steed leapt forward, galloping towards the town, leaving scorched hoof prints behind it. Mord snatched Mirra up and ran after him, the army following with a great roar and rattling of weapons. The dark creatures burst from the woods, vampires taking wing to cross the cultivated land around the town, their dark forms melting into the shadows of the buildings when they reached it.

By the time they reached the quay, it was deserted, the ships sailing away in the distance, their sails stretched by the icy wind. Mord deposited Mirra near Bane, who sat on the stallion, gazing out to sea. He dismounted, shooting her a sour look, anger radiating from him.

"Those fools will pay for this headache."

The Demon Steed stepped back as Bane raised his arms, and Mord fled. Mirra backed away, her stomach clenching as the dark power oozed from Bane, licking over him like black flames. When she was beyond its influence, she watched him gather the power that flowed from him in rivers of shadow, and then fling it from him in a bolt, sending it streaking away across the sea. The dark fire split as it reached the small fleet of ships, dividing into smaller streaks of shadow. Each headed directly for a ship, and Mirra gasped as several vessels exploded in flashes of orange fire, the muted thunderclaps reaching them moments later. One bolt of darkness did not destroy its target, but spread and settled over a ship in a foul mantle, like a black fog.

The Demon Lord's hands twitched, his long fingers moving in subtle motions. His ink black eyes glowed redly, and his hair bristled as if full of static, lifting and swirling in a spectral wind. For a time nothing seemed to be happening, Bane and the Steed stood as if carved from stone, while the men hiding around the wharf muttered. Mirra studied the cloaked ship, which was growing larger. Slowly, but gaining speed, the ship was being dragged backwards. The sails, dim in the black fog, hung limply from the masts, and people ran frantically around the decks.

As the ship re entered the harbour, waves foaming at its stern, the passengers and crew started diving off. Tar waterproofed its hull, and the sun bleached grey decks were caulked with pitch. Patched, yellowed sails hung from the spars amid sagging brown ropes. Gleams of copper and brass came from polished fittings and the broad bands of brass that strapped the masts. On the bow, the name 'Sea Bird' was painted in white, but Bane had robbed of her of her ability to fly before the wind.

Bane brought the ship alongside the wharf, booming against the rubbing timbers. With a wave, he dissipated the black fog. By the time it cleared, only one man remained on board, standing beside the helm. The giant, red bearded man, barrel chested and brown skinned, was dressed in a sailor's leather vest and loose cotton pantaloons. The trousers were caught at the knee by leather thongs, which crisscrossed his calves to the sturdy sandals on his feet. Bright tattoos decorated his brawny arms and chest, and he glared at Bane with icy green eyes, his broad, weather beaten face set in a wintry expression.

Bane turned and beckoned to Mirra, who froze for a moment before obeying when his brows snapped together. When she reached his side, he took hold of her arm, ignoring her whimper. Dragging her to the ship, he forced her to board it beside him and accompany him to the captain. The man stood silent and still, watching Bane's progress with narrowed eyes, a large pipe clamped in his mouth. Bane found himself on a level with the giant, both men standing over six feet tall. A slow, cruel smile stretched his lips. The black had faded from his eyes, and bright blue met cold green. The captain was the first man Mirra had seen who did not cower from the Demon Lord. Instead, he drew himself up and puffed a cloud of smoke.

"Good afternoon, Captain," Bane said in a mocking tone.

The captain pulled the pipe out of his mouth and blew smoke in Bane's direction. "What's good about it?"

"For you, not much, your crew seems to have abandoned you. For me, lots, I have a ship, which I need to take me to the Isle of Lume."

"Not my ship."

"Come now, Captain, you are in a poor bargaining position."

To Mirra's amazement, the captain leaned forward and poked a stubby finger into Bane's hard chest. "I'll not deal with the likes of you, Sonny; you can go burn in the Underworld."

Bane chuckled. "How courageous of you, Captain. You have obviously deduced that if I need a ship, I also need a captain to sail her, and you would be right. However, there are many ways to make you cooperate, so do not try my patience. Do you know what this is?" He pulled Mirra forward.

The captain nodded. "A healer."

"How would you like to see her suffer?"

"You can't harm a healer, Sonny."

The Demon Lord smiled with cold malice. "But I can. You see, she has almost no power left, so she does feel pain."

The red bearded captain stared at Mirra. "Is this true, Healer?"

Sadly, she nodded.

Bane tightened his grip, and she gasped. The pain was not bad, but it leaked through her blocks now. "You see, Captain, I know you people revere healers, so you would not like to see her suffer, would you?"

"No. But neither would I like to have you aboard my ship, Sonny."

"Either way, you will take me to the island or someone will suffer, if necessary, more than one."

The captain turned to Mirra. "Healer?"

Bane looked amazed. "You ask her what to do? Her stupidity knows no bounds, I hardly think her qualified to give you advice, Captain, and you would do better to quiz a seagull."

The captain glared at Bane, his face mottling with rage, but Mirra put a hand on his arm. "He will take your ship, one way or another. I am not afraid to suffer, and nor are you, but it would be futile, he can use your ship without you, he just wishes to spare himself a headache, nothing more."

The belligerence drained from the captain's face, and he nodded. "I'll not argue that. But the crew's gone."

Bane said, "I have plenty of men."

"Landlubbers." The captain spat over the side.

The Demon Lord shrugged. "If a few fall overboard, what of it? I will bring some spares." He signalled to Mord, who hovered within earshot, and the troll trotted off to select men. Many fled, and Mirra knew that they dreaded being aboard the same ship as Bane. He turned back to the captain, and his manner grew menacing.

"One more thing, Captain. If you ever call me 'Sonny' again, I will kill you, understand?" He touched the huge red beard, and it burst into flames, consumed in a gout of fire.

The captain roared, beating at it as he staggered back. Mirra gave a cry and ran to touch him. Her power flowed, but so weakly that it did little more than stop the pain. As the last of it drained from her, she crumpled. The captain fell to his knees beside her, but Bane loomed over him, kicking him aside.

"Leave her! Touch her and you die."

The captain moved away, eyeing the Demon Lord, whose crimson lined cloak billowed in the sea breeze, spreading around him like evil wings. Bane smirked, then turned and strolled along the deck, surveying his new ship. The captain leaned against the helm, fingering his burnt cheeks, his eyes flicking to the crumpled form of the healer, filled with concern.

Bane stationed himself in the bows as his men filed aboard, casting furtive looks at him. Last, the Steed boarded at his command, the deck smoking under its hooves. It joined its master, leaving the men to work unimpeded. Mord delivered the soothing potion to Bane, who settled on a coil of rope. The inexperienced men fumbled in the rigging, following the shouted instructions of the captain, and the ship moved out of the harbour.

Benton found Mirra lying on the deck and shot the captain a dirty look. The big man leaned closer to murmur, "I wanted to help her, but he wouldn't let me."

Benton nodded, kneeling and lifting Mirra's head to trickle water from his flask into her mouth. She coughed, opening her eyes and gazing around as he helped her to stand on the swaying deck. The captain jerked his chin at a hatchway.

"Take her to my cabin, she'll be comfortable there."

Following the captain's directions, Benton found a small, cosy cabin in the stern of the ship, and helped Mirra to a soft bunk under the windows that overlooked the sea. Cupboards and lockers made from polished, fine grained wood lined the cabin, for no space was wasted on a ship. A cheap grey carpet covered the floor, and the faint aroma of bilges wafted from the corridor. Exhaustion numbed Mirra, and her head seemed to be filled with cotton wool. For the first time in her life she was utterly without power, and its lack left her weak and trembling. The soft bed soothed her aching body, and she fell asleep, hardly aware of Benton leaving the cabin.

Mirra opened her eyes to find Bane standing over her, burnished by the golden light of lanterns. She smiled, and was rewarded with a scowl.

"Get off my bed."

She obeyed, a roll of the ship making her stagger, forcing her to grab a table for support.

Bane sat on the bed, studying her. "Now you have no more power, do you, witch?"

"No."

"Come here."

Mirra stood before him, her head bowed. He pulled the black bladed dagger from his belt, then gripped her arm and drew the blade across her skin. Mirra gasped and bit her lip as blood welled from the wound, trying to tug her arm away, and Bane grinned, revealing even white teeth.

"So, now I can really have fun."

Mirra gazed at him, her eyes liquid with tears.

He laughed. "You think that you can melt my heart with your puppy dog looks? Think again, dolt!"

His palm cracked across her cheek, and she staggered back with a cry. Bane came after her, grabbing her robe and yanking her towards him like a rag doll. He slapped her again, making her yelp and raise her arms to ward off the next blow. This only made him hit her harder, smacking her until she crumpled, her robe ripping in his grip. Bane jerked her to her feet and sent her staggering with another slap. Her head hit the bulkhead and she slumped, unconscious. Bane strode over and lifted her, then dropped her with a grunt of disgust. Leaving her in a heap, he flung himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

His nostrils flared with thwarted rage. Beating her had not been as much fun as he had thought it would. She was too helpless, too weak; it was like stepping on an ant, hardly satisfying at all. It had been much more fun setting the captain's beard alight, the man had guts. If the girl only had an ounce of defiance, he would have enjoyed it. He had given up feeding her meat for the same reason, she simply obeyed, eating it without protest, then was sick afterwards. Torturing her with another's pain was equally boring, all she did was whimper and wail, beg him to stop, and weep sickeningly. If she had tried to stop him, put up some sort of physical or verbal fight, it would have been far more fun. The only reason he kept her alive now was because she was supposed to be a threat to him, and he enjoyed a challenge. Closing his eyes, he drifted into an untroubled sleep.

Chapter 6 Continued