Demon Lord III - Grey God (25 page)

"Shevra!"

She smiled. "I
want to give you a gift, Marik. In return for the plant."

He gulped.
"You do?"

"Yes. Sit
down."

"But we're...
we're not supposed to..."

She looked
puzzled. "Not supposed to what?"

"You
know..."

"Accept gifts?
Don't worry, it's not something you'll have to carry back to the
city."

"I know."

"How could you
know what it is before I've told you?"

He sat down.
"So tell me."

"I'm going to
dance for you."'

"Oh." A look
of relief, mixed with disappointment, flitted across his face. "But
there's no music."

"That's all
right, I don't need it."

Shevra smiled
and stepped closer to the fire, then gestured. A flame leapt from
it and hovered in the air before her.

"Goddess!"
Marik recoiled. "You're a fire dancer!"

"Yes. You
didn't know?"

"No."

"It bothers
you?" Shevra knew that some people were superstitious about fire
dancers.

"No, it's all
right."

"Good."

Shevra raised
her arms in the first slow, graceful motions of a fire dance. The
flame split into many small ones, which circled her in a weaving
pattern. She bent with a sweep of her arms, and the flames followed
her movement, leaving bright trails in the air. Her hands wove
intricate patterns, and the fire spiralled around her in a stately
dance of brilliance. The soldiers watched her leap and spin,
weaving a radiant web.

The men began
to clap in time to her dance, and she moved into a more difficult
discipline, causing the flames to multiply, then wink out in a
series of sweeping trails, like comets. She wove patterns in the
air and swept gouts of flame from the fire, hurling them high. All
the while she leapt and spun, the fire following her every
movement. The men watched entranced, all save a few who muttered
darkly and were elbowed into silence by their fellows. She swept
her hands through the flames, making them swirl and flare, allowing
them to lick her skin in a hot caress.

Shevra
performed a last twirling leap, then stood still, guiding the fire
in brilliant patterns with broad gestures. Finally she let her
hands fall to her sides, and the flames settled into a stately
circle around her head, like a fiery crown. She made them drift
upward, allowing them to shrink to tiny sparks, then snuffed them
out. The troops burst into enthusiastic applause, and she turned to
smile at Marik as the men drifted away. He smiled and clapped, but
his brown eyes were sad. She knelt beside him.

"What's
wrong?"

He shook his
head, turning to stare at the fire. "You're so beautiful and
talented, and I'm just a soldier."

"What does
that matter?"

"Are you
looking for a one way trip to the city?"

"No! I will
not leave my parents."

"Then why are
you trying to impress me?"

"I'm not. This
was simply a gift, in return for the plant." Shevra frowned.
"You're far too suspicious, Marik, and you're wrong."

"Look, I
understand. No one in their right mind would want to live
here."

"Oh, so now
I'm either crazy or a liar?" She jumped up. "This is my home."
Spinning on her heel, she raced away, dodging between the
troops.

"Shevra!"

Ignoring his
shout, she ran home, where she sat at the kitchen table and gazed
at the plant, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. How unfair he
was to assume that she was seeking a ride to the city, either as a
stowaway, or as his bride, which was the only way she would be
allowed to travel there. She liked him, but he was not a marriage
prospect. Perhaps it was not such an unfair assumption, considering
all the girls who were trying to worm their way into the soldiers'
affections for that very reason. She was not like them, however,
she was a fire dancer, and she had her pride.

Shevra became
aware of a growing nausea, and chills ran down her spine. She
thought that she might have caught a cold, or overdone the dancing,
then she realised that it was neither. Clutching her stomach, she
stumbled to the door and retched, bringing up her meagre
supper.

The floor and
walls gave off a nauseating chill, and the shadows seemed to
thicken in the room's corners. Tottering back to the table, she
climbed onto it with shaking legs, her stomach heaving. Dra'Nith
were rare, but lately they had become more frequent, and more
intense. She crouched on the table, hugging her knees as she fought
the nausea and a growing headache that pounded at her skull.

Andira
appeared in the doorway and hurried over to her, climbing onto the
table beside her and embracing her. Moments later her father joined
them, and the family huddled together, drawing comfort and warmth
from each other as the air became colder and the dark power
thickened. Her parents were similarly stricken with nausea, but she
was sensitive to the dark power, and for her it was worse. Tears of
misery forced their way under her eyelids and slid down her cheeks.
Her father prayed to the goddess for aid in their dark hour.

Shevra opened
her eyes to gaze at the plant, drawing comfort from the presence of
something that had been born of the light, and carried the golden
touch of the legendary sun in its bright green leaves and pink
petals. A sob clogged her throat. The fragile leaves were
blackening at their edges, curling slowly.

"No!"

Shevra pulled
away from her mother's arms and scooped up the plant, cradling it
against her as she sought to protect it from the dark storm. It
continued to blacken and curl, dying in her arms, and her mother
wept with her, stroking her hair. The flower petals shrivelled and
dropped off one by one, falling like tears onto her pale arms, then
the blackened leaves followed them.

By the time
the nausea faded and the air warmed as the shadows leaked away, the
plant was nothing more than a brown, withered stem. She sat and
stared at it with desolate eyes while her father went to check
their stores in the loft, where it was kept to protect it from the
dark power that rose from the ground. His curses made Andira bow
her head and groan.

"The grain's
been spoilt. This will be another lean month."

"It's getting
worse," Shevra whispered.

"The goddess
will protect us."

"She hasn't
done much so far."

"Have faith,
she will. Come, let's get some sleep, it's late."

Chapter Thirteen

Blue
Council

The next
morning, the town’s folk gathered in silence to watch the supply
wagons depart, only two horses pulling the empty one, since four of
them had died during the shadow storm. The remaining beasts were
wild-eyed and skittish, fighting their bits and foaming at the
mouth. Shevra stood in the doorway and watched them pass, not
waving as she usually did, since no one else was, either. The town
was steeped in gloom again, because half of the supplies that the
wagons had brought were now spoilt, and the people faced more
hunger before the next ones arrived.

Shevra helped
her mother around the house for the rest of the day, then went for
a walk down to the lake in the afternoon. Derrin sat on the bank,
venomously hurling stones into the still water with vicious flicks
of his arm. He scowled at her when she sat beside him.

"What do you
want?"

"Someone to
talk to, perhaps?"

"I'm not good
company right now."

She sighed.
"Who is?"

"Our entire
supply was spoilt. My uncle had not stored it in the loft before
the storm hit." Derrin's father had died several years ago, a
victim of the dark power, which had made him go mad and try to
murder several people before he was killed.

"The mayor
will issue you more from the community supply."

"Most of that
was spoilt too. Even the horses that died can't be eaten, their
flesh turned rotten." He threw another rock.

"Poor things.
The plant died too."

"That's a
shame. My mother keeps saying that the goddess will save us, but
when?"

"That's what I
want to know as well."

Derrin scowled
at the stone in his hands. "It's making me mad too, Shevra. Last
night I wanted to kill someone, I really did. One day I will, then
they'll kill me like they did my father. It's a weakness that
children inherit, you know."

"I know, but
you're strong, Derrin. You've already withstood far more than you
father could."

"But it's
getting worse. The storms are stronger now. It's only a matter of
time." He hurled the rock so hard that it bounced along the surface
for some distance before sinking. "Imtal's wife went berserk and
tried to beat him to death with a faggot. He had to tie her up. My
turn's coming."

"Pray to the
goddess."

"I do. It
doesn't do any good."

"Perhaps she's
already protecting you." Shevra glanced around as a movement in the
barren, ash covered distance caught her eye. "What's that?"

"Where?"
Derrin followed her gaze, peering into the gloom. The glowing
reddish clouds barely gave enough light to see anything far away,
but Shevra was sure that she had seen movement.

"Over there."
She pointed.

They stared at
the spot for several minutes, then Shevra spotted the movement
again. She jumped up, her eyes widening. Dark shapes poured over
the horizon in a black tide, filling a hollow between two hills.
Her blood turned cold and her heart began to hammer as she stared
at the misshapen forms of the grotesque creatures that shambled,
loped and crawled towards them.

Derrin leapt
to his feet with an oath. "Goddess! They're dark creatures!"

"We've got to
warn the town!"

Shevra raced
along the path that led to the village, kicking up puffs of ash,
and Derrin sprinted after her. They crested the brow of a low hill
and stopped to stare in dismay at the terrible scene before them.
Another dark horde had reached the far side of the town, and some
of the buildings were ablaze. Women, children and old people fled
screaming through the streets in panic, while a few brave men tried
to battle the dark beasts with pitch forks and scythes.

Derrin grabbed
her arm. "We've got to get out of here!"

Shevra glanced
around at the horde behind them. "How? We're surrounded."

Derrin's eyes
filled with panic. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm going to
look for my parents. You should find somewhere to hide; a basement
or cellar, and barricade yourself in. Perhaps they won't find
you."

Derrin started
to nod, then hesitated. "I must find my mother first; we should
stay together."

"Come on
then!" Shevra tugged him forward, and they ran towards the doomed
town.

Two days
passed before Kayos decided that it was time to speak to the Blue
Council, since Bane seemed to have recovered most of his strength.
He went in search of Sharri and Tarris, and found them praying in
the chapel. They followed him back to Bane's room, but Sharri
begged to be allowed to prepare to meet the Blue Council, and
vanished down a side corridor at Kayos' nod. She caught up with
them as they arrived outside the door, clad in a vestment of white
linen edged with gold embroidery that covered her head, fastened
under her chin and flowed over her shoulders to her waist. A thin
circlet of gold fitted over it, and a drop-shaped diamond glittered
on her brow.

The Demon Lord
turned from the window as they entered the room, and Kayos was
struck afresh by the cold emptiness in his eyes. Mirra sat on the
bed, and the two men sharpened their blades on the floor.

Kayos nodded
at Bane. "It is time."

Grem and
Mithran rose, sheathing their weapons, and Mirra slipped her hand
into Bane's.

Kayos shook
his head. "No. Just the priestesses."

The trio
looked at Bane, who eyed the Grey God, a slight smile curling his
lips. It was becoming a little crowded, and it meant that Kayos
would have to transport four people. Not that it would tax him, but
it would be inconvenient when they faced the Blue Council. Bane
inclined his head and turned to Mirra.

"Wait here, we
will not be long. You will be safe, and if you need me, you know
what to do."

She looked
mutinous, then glanced at Kayos and nodded. "Be careful." Pulling
his head down, she kissed him.

Bane pressed
his lips to her brow, then straightened and turned to Kayos. The
Grey God held out his hands to the two priestesses, who took them,
and he Moved. Bane followed an instant later, arriving in a broad,
black marble hall. They were invisible, and the people who wandered
past did not appear to notice the surge of dark power that
accompanied Bane. Fluted pillars lined the vast hall, inlaid with
gold and jade designs at their base and summit.

Floral designs
in gold, jade and white marble adorned the ceiling and some of the
walls between the pillars. Brave statues of long dead heroes and
heroines stood between other pillars, their pale marble faces
frozen in expressions of stern bravado. The prosperous populace of
the hall wore rich clothes of simple cut and strange design, to
Bane's eyes. The women's sleek, knee-length gowns appeared to have
no fastenings, as did the men's snug-fitting trousers and well-cut
tunics. Many turned to stare at the two priestesses who had
appeared in their midst.

Sharri stopped
a passing servant and asked for the location of the Blue Council.
The man bowed. "They are in audience with the Queen, high
priestess."

Sharri nodded
and set off down the hall. Bane followed, glancing around, and
noticed that Tarris kept looking back as if seeking him or Kayos.
They stopped before a tall ebony door inlaid with mother of pearl
designs and banded with copper. Two soldiers guarded it, clad in
strange, snug-fitting flexible armour over royal blue tunics and
trousers, silver tubes strapped to their hips. As Sharri and Tarris
approached, one raised a hand.