Demon Lord by T C Southwell

the swinging of its large head as it snuffled
across the floor. Terrified, Mirra watched the monster approach,
then it stopped.
    Apparently it had encountered
the Demon Lord's scent, and it raised its head to sniff in her
direction. It blinked and retreated. She slumped with a sigh. How
ironic it was that while Bane slept in another room, his mere scent
was enough to protect her from the monsters that prowled in the
night.
    During the day she dozed, the
mutter of passing men as they wandered through the town disturbing
her slumber. On the third day, she persuaded the troll to take her
out to sit in the sun, her legs shaking with hunger and
dehydration. She sank down in a patch of sunlight and raised her
face to the warm rays. Mord crouched in the shade, holding her rope
while she basked, a blessed relief after days shut up in the dim,
smelly inn. The sunlight gave her a little strength, but did
nothing to relieve the tight knot of her stomach or her mouth's
dryness.
    Mord whimpered, and Mirra
glanced around in alarm. Bane stood in the doorway, his eyes blue
fire in the bright light. Lines of suffering marred his skin,
accentuating his haggard appearance. He strode towards Mord, who
dived into a nearby building to avoid the kick Bane aimed at him.
Swinging around, Bane approached Mirra and jerked her to her feet,
glaring down at her.
    "So, you like the sun, do you?
That is where you get your power from, is it not? Well, say goodbye
to it, you will not bask in it again, witch." He dragged her back
into the inn and thrust her into a chair before pacing the room.
"Those idiots still have not found another ward, and I grow weary
of waiting. My father grows impatient." He pushed a bloated cadaver
aside and sat in its chair, glaring at Mirra. "I shall have to scry
for it."
    His scowl deepened. The prospect
of the headache that would result clearly angered him. Resting his
arms on the table, he spread his hands.
    Darkness filled his eyes, and he
radiated evil. She shivered as its sickening malevolence touched
her. Bane sat motionless, his eyes unfocussed, concentrating. After
a few minutes, he gestured, and an image formed in the air before
him. It appeared to be the inside of a dark cave, and a glowing
pentagram hung above lines chiselled into the stone floor. Bane
smiled, and the image faded. Sweat dewed his brow, and Mirra sensed
the pain building within his temples.
    "So, we march. Stupid human
wizards, each with his own notion of how to seal the wards. This
one thought he could hide it in some remote cave. Fools."
    Bane shouted for Mord, and the
troll appeared with a cup, receiving the kick he had avoided
earlier. Bane drained the drug and eyed the cowering troll.
    "Tell the captains to gather
their men. We march again."
     

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Fire Demon
     
    The following morning, Mirra
walked amongst the men while Bane rode ahead on the dragon. Grey
clouds obscured the sun, and a chill wind plucked at her robe,
making her shiver. They traversed pleasant rolling fields, then
joined a road that ran alongside a forest. Bane had allowed her to
be untied, and it was a relief to be able to move her arms again.
Benton walked beside her, clearly relieved to see her in one
piece.
    "We heard about what he did to
you. I'm sorry he learnt your secret from us."
    "It was no secret. Had he asked,
I would have told him myself. And even had he not asked, he would
have found out eventually."
    Benton shook his head. "I wish
we could set you free, healer, but you wouldn't get far, and he'd
kill us for sure if we did. We're not all bad, some of us are quite
decent fellows, but we joined his army rather than die. There are
those who enjoy murdering and torture, but my friends and I
don't."
    She smiled and patted his arm.
"I know. I would not ask you to risk yourself on my behalf."
    Mirra stumbled beside him, her
breath rasping in a dry throat. Benton supported her with an arm
around her waist, but by midday, the last dregs of her strength