Demon Lord III - Grey God Read online

  Bane gritted his teeth, longing for the hated vision to end, and thrust against the hands that pinned him more powerfully. As he did so, he sensed a tingling deep in the base of his brain, where something tore open, and knowledge flooded out. A wall of darkness formed, clanking into place like steel shields, swallowing the vision. It rose swiftly, eating away at the images, thoughts and emotions he received from Grem, mixed with flashes of memory from his father. When the last vestige of alien thought had gone, he opened his eyes and looked up into Grem's grinning visage. The warrior's eyes gleamed.

  "Well, did it work?"

  "Yes."

  Grem gave a hoot and slid off Bane's chest; Mithran grinned and released his legs. "I knew it would!" Grem crowed.

  Bane sat up, rubbing his temples, and Mithran studied him, his smile fading. "Are you all right, Son?"

  "Yes. How long did that take?"

  "About half an hour."

  "It seemed shorter." He turned to Grem. "I did not realise you saw that."

  "We all did. 'Twas bloody amazing."

  Mirra came over and sank to her knees beside Bane, shooting the two miscreants an accusing look. "What did you do to him?"

  "We fixed 'im!" Grem cried, gulping the rest of his wine and refilling the cup from a jug. "No more worries for you, Healer."

  Mithran nodded and winked. "He won't be reading your mind tonight, lass."

  Mirra flushed, then looked at Bane. "You learnt how to block it?"

  "Yes."

  "Good."

  He shot his father an amused look. "But that does not mean I cannot read minds anymore, only that I can do it at will now."

  Mirra gasped. "You would not dare!"

  Bane smiled. "You would never know."

  "I would!"

  "How?"

  "I do not know, but I would. Do not!"

  Bane chuckled, and she pounced on him, pushed him back onto the grass and aimed playful cuffs at him, which he blocked easily. She grabbed his wrists and pinned his arms to the grass beside his head, grinning down at him. There was something oddly exhilarating about being able to wrestle with him, and she understood why Grem and Mithran had enjoyed it so much. Bane sighed, rolling his eyes.

  "What, is it 'sit on Bane' night, tonight?"

  "Maybe. I will let you go when you promise not to read my mind, ever." She glanced around as Mithran tugged a grumbling Grem away, who demanded peevishly to know where they were going.

  "Then I definitely will not promise anything of the kind," Bane said.

  "You like being sat on?"

  "Only by you."

  She snorted. "You are impossible. Promise me, or else."

  "Or else what?"

  "I will put farron leaves in your dinner."

  Bane's brows rose. Farron was a powerful laxative. "You would never do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Your healer's oath?"

  Mirra shook her head. "That is not harm."

  "I would definitely consider it harm, and besides, a little while ago you were volunteering."

  "That was so you could learn how to block it while I could control my thoughts."

  "You did not do a very good job."

  Her grin faded. "Why, what did you see?"

  "I am not going to tell you."

  "Bane!"

  "No."

  "That is not fair!" She leant closer. "It should have been one of your vows, not to use any of your powers on me."

  "Probably, but it is too late now."

  She shrugged. "Then it is the farron leaves for you."

  He looked horrified. "No, not the farron leaves! Have mercy! Help!"

  Mirra giggled. "The farron leaves it is."

  He frowned and growled, "Do you really think your Overworld poison will work on me, witch?"

  She froze, her mouth dropping open in surprise and dismay, and he studied her expression, his own becoming disbelieving.

  "You think I am serious?"

  "You were convincing." She blushed and looked away.

  Bane chuckled. "You are a silly little thing, are you not?"

  "Sometimes."

  "No. It was not funny. I will not do it again."

  She released his wrists and hugged him, then raised her head to study him. "No, next time I will laugh."

  "You are certain?"

  "Absolutely." She pinned his wrists again with a grin. "Now, about that other promise...."

  "What other promise?"

  "Not to read my mind."

  "I did not promise that."

  "I know, that is the problem." She glared at him in mock anger. "Now you are being facetious."

  He chuckled. "You cannot make me promise."

  "I will tickle you until you do."

  "Ooh."

  "Bane!" Her brow wrinkled with frustration.

  He sighed, rolling his head from side to side. "I should put you over my knee and spank you for even thinking I would do that."

  "You would not dare."

  "You think not?"

  She crawled further on top of him, pinning his legs, her toes pressed to his shins. "Now you cannot."

  "Oh, right, I am helpless. Forgot that."

  Mirra smiled and stroked his cheek. "How did I become so lucky?"

  "What makes you think you are?"

  "I have only to look at you to know it."

  He snorted. "Damaged goods, already used and much abused, slightly bent out of shape, and not very well trained."

  "No you are not."

  "I am not going to argue about it."

  "Good, come and dance." She jumped up and tried to tug him to his feet.

  "No. I like it down here, and if I get up someone will just sit on me again."

  "No they will not. I will not let them."

  "My little protector."

  "Come on, Bane."

  He shook his head. "I do not want to act like a dolt."

  "You will not."

  "I will if I have to prance around like that lot over there." He cast a scathing glance at the revellers.

  "Do I have to drag you?"

  "You could try."

  "Very well, I will get help."

  Mirra released his hand, eluded his attempt to grab her and raced away, leaving him groaning on the grass. She returned a few minutes later with Tallis in tow, looking determined, and he smiled.

  "You really think the two of you are going to be able to drag me over there?"

  "We will have a jolly good try," Mirra declared, gripping one of his hands. "Get his other hand, Tal."

  Tallis moved to obey, and Bane growled at her, making her recoil. He chuckled, and Mirra giggled.

  "Tal, do not be silly," she remonstrated.

  "Silly? Right."

  Tallis shook her head and bent to grip Bane's wrist, ignoring his mock glare. They tugged on his arms, managing to shift him only a little with much puffing and groaning, while he smiled at their efforts. Tallis soon gave up, shaking her head at Mirra.

  "It is hopeless, Mir. He weighs a tonne."

  "I will have to put him on a diet, then."

  Bane grinned. "You could try."

  "Oh, of course, the ambrosia." Mirra sighed. "You will have to start being a bit more co-operative, you know."

  "You mean, let you bully me?"

  "Exactly."

  "Why?"

  "Because it is normal!" She stamped her foot in frustration. "It is our wedding night, and I want you to dance with me."

  Bane studied her despondent expression, then rose to his feet in a lithe movement, making Tallis step back. Mirra looked up at him, and his smile widened as he sank down on one knee.

  "Your wish is my command, My Lady."

  Mirra swung away. "Stop doing that!"

  He chuckled and jumped up, reached her in a bound and swept her up in his arms, then strode towards the fires.

  "I have legs," she pointed out.

  "Very nice ones, too, if memory serves."

  "I have no secrets from you
, do I?"

  "Not as far as I know."

  She glanced at the fires as they drew closer. "You can put me down now."

  "I could, but I will not."

  Bane ignored her growl of frustration and carried her to the edge of the dancing throng, where he set her on her feet. The musicians fell silent as Bane turned to them, looking nervous, and the dancers stared.

  "Play something slow," he ordered, then turned to Mirra and said, "If I am going to do this, I am not going to prance about like that lot."

  "I like that idea even better."

  "Good."

  After a few abortive tootles and tweets, the young musicians played a slow melody, and Mirra stepped closer to twine her arms around Bane's neck. He clasped her waist, and, following her instructions, moved his feet in an appropriate manner. In moments he had mastered the steps, as he was inclined to do with any new challenge, Mirra had discovered. The rest of the dancers melted away to return to the feast table or talk in the shadows, and the musicians kept playing until Bane decided enough was enough and led Mirra away from the fires. By that time, the rest of the healers where stretched out on the grass, sated and tired. Bane glanced up at the full moon.

  "It is late. We should go."

  Mirra nodded, her heart fluttering.

  Grem snored on the grass beside the empty wine jug, and Mithran dozed next to him, propped against a tree. Bane roused his father, but Grem was out cold, so Bane hoisted him onto his shoulder and carried him to the flower-bedecked cart, dumping him in the back. Mithran climbed in beside him and stretched out with a sigh. Ellese appeared as if by magic to kiss and hug Mirra, then turned to Bane and spread her arms.

  Bane eyed her with a wry smile, but returned her embrace. Tallis hugged Mirra and crowned her with a garland of daisies, and many of her other friends from the abbey came forward to wish her well. Bane climbed into the driver's seat and helped Mirra up beside him, then clucked to the elderly carthorse that had waited so patiently since being hitched up earlier. The throng of healers waved as the cart rattled down the narrow, moon silvered trail.

  When they reached the two cabins Bane had helped his father and Grem build, Mithran roused himself and took the cart away to unhitch and stable the horse, promising to see to Grem as well. Bane opened the door to the cabin he had shared with Mirra for over a year, picked her up and carried her over the threshold.

  "Who told you to do that?" she enquired when he put her down inside.

  "Father."

  "What else did he tell you?"

  "Not much." Bane waved a hand and muttered, "Fire."

  All the candles lighted, filling the cabin with a warm golden glow. Mirra clicked her tongue and put down the tinderbox, shooting him an exasperated look. Bane pushed open the door to his bedroom and entered it, pulling off his jacket. She followed, her heart pounding, and he sat on the bed and tugged off his boots, then flopped back, patting the sheet.

  "Come here, wife."

  Mirra sat beside him, fiddling with her golden rune pendant.

  He took her hand and gazed up at her with fire-blue eyes. “So, you have been trying to seduce me for two years, now is your chance." Her face grew hot, and he chuckled. "Silly girl."

  She snuggled up to him and tugged at his shirt laces. "Will you do some magic?"

  "What would you like?"

  "Something pretty."

  "Hmmm." He pondered, and then a glowing rainbow appeared above them. "You like rainbows."

  "It is lovely. More."

  Bane spread his hands, and blue light poured from them, engulfed the bed and turned it into a cloud. Cerulean fire crept up the walls, mantling them, and sprouted delicate branches tipped with bright star flowers of pale cyan. In moments, the room was transformed into a fantasy world of shimmering clouds and filigree light, sparkling with brilliant blooms of the palest hue.

  "Beautiful," she whispered.

  He gestured, and the air filled with the soothing swish of waves on a beach.

  "I did not know you could do sounds as well."

  "That is a new one."

  Mirra pulled open his shirt and ran her hand over the contours of his chest, tracing a rune scar. It filled with a sullen red glow, and she gasped.

  "Did I do that?"

  He chuckled. "No, silly, I did."

  "Oh, you... "

  "Monster?"

  "Sometimes!" She gazed into his eyes. "But you are my monster, and I love you."

  "And for the life of me I will never understand why."

  "Then you are a dolt."

  "Insults now?" Bane pulled her down beside him. "For that, you will pay."

  Mirra drifted from sleep’s soft arms, becoming aware of a wonderful scent of erros flowers, and that she lay upon satin softness, her head pillowed on a warm arm. Opening her eyes, she gazed at the bed of red erros petals within the glowing cocoon of the blue power that mantled the room. She raised her head and turned to the man who slept beside her, propping her chin on her palm. Time would not touch him, and in a thousand years he would look as he did this morning. How would he react when she grew old? Would he stop loving her then? She thrust the thought aside, hating it and the pang it sent through her heart.

  Bane's eyes opened, and he smiled, stretched and yawned.

  She looked away. "I will make breakfast."

  His hand flashed out and gripped her wrist, foiling her attempt to rise. "No you will not." He pulled her close and enfolded her in his arms. "You will stay right here."

  "Then who will make breakfast?"

  He sighed. "We need a servant."

  "No we do not."

  "Then I will make the breakfast."

  She giggled. "You cannot cook."

  "I can make porridge."

  "Yuck. Your porridge is lumpy."

  "I am not hungry, anyway."

  She snuggled closer to him. "But I am."

  "Lumpy porridge it is then."

  "No, I will make pancakes with berry jam, fresh cream and buttered scones."

  He groaned. "You are a temptress, and you are going to make me fat."

  "You will never get fat."

  "Then you will."

  Mirra gasped, raising a hand, and he released her to ward off the mock blow, allowing her to slip from his grasp, grab her robe and escape. Bane made an abortive attempt to catch her, but she eluded him and ran giggling to the door.

  "Witch!" he said.

  "Slow poke!"

  "Right, that does it." Bane sat up and pulled on his trousers. "Time for a spanking."

  When he padded into the kitchen, Mirra turned from lighting the stove, skillet in hand. She brandished it as he approached, and he veered off and filled the kettle instead. When he put it on the stove, she pointed to a chair beside the table.

  "Sit."

  Bane smiled and made a mock feint towards her, and she squeaked and jumped back, raising the skillet. Chuckling, he flopped down in the chair. He rose to make tea, then returned to his seat as she placed a heaped plate in front of him.

  Chapter Three

  Grey God

  Lyriasharin leant back on her bed of glowing cloud and smiled at the image of Bane and Mirra relaxing on the lakeshore in her Eye. She enjoyed watching them, although she respected their privacy, too. Her feelings for Bane had grown considerably, and she did not dare to plumb them too deeply, afraid of what she would find. He said something that made Mirra giggle, and a warm glow filled Lyriasharin’s heart. He did not seem to mind that she watched him; he could have prevented her from doing so, had he wished.

  Lyriasharin turned her head as a distant chiming filled the sweet, scented air with musical notes. For a moment she frowned in puzzlement, then realisation hit her like a bucket of cold water, turning her heart to ice. Although she had not heard it for a thousand years, she knew what it meant. Someone stood outside the Realm Gate, demanding entrance, or was attempting to find a way in.

  Beyond the Gate lay the dark, forbidding realm of the gods, where she had
never dared to venture. Her father had vanished into the God Realm over a thousand years ago in search of her daughter, who had fled into it to escape Lyriasharin's husband, Arkonen, now the Black Lord, ruler of the Underworld. The only being who could be at the Gate, making it chime with imperious notes, was another god.

  Lyriasharin rose and ran along the path that led through the glowing cloud garden to the vast Gate Hall. It stood in solitary splendour in a clearing beside the sheer rock cliff that marked the domain's boundary, surrounded by a broad swathe of diamond sand. The last time she had entered its echoing confines was on the day her father had left, yet nothing about it had changed. Like everything in Eternity, the aeons had not touched it.

  Runes covered its walls, and massive alabaster pillars supported a high roof ornamented with carvings of the creatures and landscapes found in the mid realm below, celebrating its beauty. The cloud garden's brilliance poured in between the pillars, filling it with shimmering radiance. She stopped before the towering Realm Gate, fear gripping her heart in a cruel fist. It glowed, pulsing with pearly light, the chimes echoing through the hall.

  The runes carved on its edges glowed and dimmed in a sequence that travelled around the portal. An occasional solitary one lighted briefly in a code that told her that whoever stood outside held a Key to this Gate, and was in the process of unlocking it. If the being outside was a dark god, her domain was in grave danger, for she had no defence against such an invasion. The Gate was her only protection, and, although the portal was all but impregnable, it was about to open, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

  The chiming stopped, and she held her breath as the pulsing glow faded. A soft grating told her that the massive stone lock was disengaging. The sounds ceased, and the Gate swung open with ponderous majesty. Lyriasharin stood frozen with dread, her power clenched within her, ready to flee whatever danger lurked beyond the Gate. The only one who owned a Key to this domain was her father, but a dark god might have stolen it, or possess one that opened many gates, since such existed. The widening gap revealed an impenetrable blackness that swallowed the pale light of her realm without reflecting a glimmer. She stepped back as a cold draught seeped over the threshold and lapped at her feet.