Demon Lord by T C Southwell Read Free Book Online Page B

table before fleeing again. Mirra winced as
Bane drained the drug.
    "That will kill you."
    "Rubbish."
    "It is poison."
    "Be silent! All of a sudden you
have a lot to say, and I do not want to hear it. Must I gag
you?"
    Bane threw the cup at her and
lay back on the bed. Closing his eyes, he clasped his temples, his
face drawn with weariness. Mirra waited until his slow breathing
told her that he slept, then crept closer, forcing her legs to work
a little. Her nature cried out to help him. His pain hurt her
deeply, and she longed to ease it. Laying her fingertips on his
arm, she sensed again the alien power that blocked her healing. She
concentrated, trying to push past it.
    Bane jerked awake and lashed
out, striking her in the face and knocking her back against the
tent wall. The hurts healed as she turned to find him sitting up,
his face thunderous.
    "Keep your filthy hands off
me!"
    Mirra looked at her hands, which
were clean. "But they are not -"
    "Silence!"
    Bane ran a hand through his
hair, combing it into glossy, feather-like layers. He contemplated
her, then rose and tied her hands behind her with twine before
going back to sleep.
    For two days, she neither ate
nor drank, while Bane consumed evil, reddish food and a lot of
strong wine. For the most part, he ignored her while he studied his
maps or left her alone when he strolled amongst his men. Apart from
ordering Mord around, he spoke to no one, and seemed to wish no
company. Sometimes, he glared at her as if her presence, silent and
unobtrusive though it was, offended him. Apart from when Mord took
her to use the trench latrine, she spent all her time curled up in
the corner of the tent.
    On the third day, a troll runner
came in with a message. Bane sat at his table, maps spread across
it as usual, a cup of wine in one hand. The hairy creature abased
himself, and Bane gestured for him to rise.
    "What is it?"
    "Lord, we've found a ward, in
the sea town of Agaspen."
    "Is it in a church?"
    "Yes, Lord."
    With a cold smile, Bane
straightened and banged down his cup of wine, sloshing its contents
and making the troll whimper.
    "We march!" The troll darted
out, and Bane turned to Mirra. "A bit of marching should sap your
strength. Everyone dies of thirst, witch, even you."
    Mirra was unable to think of
anything to say in reply to this, besides which, her mouth was too
dry to speak.
    Amid much bustle and shouting
the camp was struck, and Bane mounted the red dragon to lead the
troops along the road. The horde straggled after him, its ranks
swelled by those squadrons that had returned from their search,
overflowing the road to blacken the fields around it. Mirra walked
amongst them, Mord leading her by a rope around her neck. As soon
as Bane was far enough away, one of the men who walked beside her
held a water skin to her lips. Mord turned and snarled at him, but
he ignored the troll, who was apparently unwilling to enter into a
physical conflict over the matter. When she had drunk her fill, the
men gave her dry biscuits and bread, and the sustenance gave her
the strength to walk for the rest of the day.
    When they camped at dusk, Mord
brought her to the Demon Lord's tent, and at the sight of her his
expression became murderous.
    "Those bastards!" With a vicious
backhand blow, he knocked her down. "They have been feeding you
again, have they not? They have given you water!"
    Mirra nodded, and Bane swung
around. She glimpsed Mord's fleeing hairy form.
    "Mord!" Bane's bellow echoed
around the camp, causing faraway men to abandon their campfires and
race for the woods. "Bring them to me! I want those men, or I will
torture every one of you! You will all pay!"
    "Please do not," Mirra begged.
"They were only being kind."
    "Silence!" Bane kicked her,
sending her rolling with a grunt.
    In a remarkably short time, two
terrified men were dragged before him, bound and bruised, their
dirty clothes torn. They struggled in the brutish hands of four
rough-looking men who obviously had no