Tags:
demons,
Healers,
gods,
Battles,
goddess,
mages,
underworld,
white power,
dark power,
blue power,
black fire,
black lord,
demon lord,
grey god
meet. If all goes well, about a
year."
"I require an
oath from you."
"Name it."
"If I am
unable to, you will protect Mirra."
Kayos nodded.
"I swear it."
"I'm coming
too," Grem declared.
"And me!"
Mithran chimed in, not to be outdone.
"No." Bane
shook his head. "It is too dangerous."
"All the more
reason," Grem said. "You'll need us."
"Grem can
teach me to use a sword," Mithran added.
"No. Mirra at
least is immune to the black fire, and she is hard to kill when she
has her power. You two would only be liabilities."
"We would
not." Mithran scowled. "Whatever else you are, you're still my son,
and you'll obey me. We're coming."
Bane eyed him,
a slight smile tugging at his lips. "It is indeed a son's duty to
obey his father, and I am surprised you failed to mention it
before. However -"
"No. You'll do
as you’re told. Your mother would have walloped you for disobeying
either of us."
Bane sighed,
and Mirra whispered, "He is as stubborn as you are."
"I know," he
whispered back.
"Then unless
you want to debate this all night, you may as well agree."
Bane glanced
at Kayos, who looked amused and irritated, but clearly had no
intention of intervening.
Mithran
nodded, his eyes bright. "Good, that's settled then. When do we
leave?"
Kayos turned
to Lyriasharin. "I will spend a few days with my daughter, whom I
have missed these past thousand years. Make your preparations.
Perhaps you can find more volunteers to join our merry throng."
Lyriasharin
took her father's hand with a smile, and they vanished. Grem let
out a pent breath, sagging, and Mithran looked thoughtful.
"We'll need
provisions, ropes, clothes, weapons and tools. I'll go to the
village and buy them tomorrow."
Bane shook his
head. "Bring only your weapons and spare clothes. All else, Kayos
can provide."
Mithran sat on
the chair beside Bane. "This will be a grand adventure."
"More like a
torturous ordeal filled with hardship, danger and death. I wish you
would reconsider, Father."
"No. If I stay
here I'll just sit around wondering what you're doing and worrying
about you and Mirra. I want to be there to help you if I can, guard
your back and advise you, as I couldn't while you were growing
up."
"That was no
fault of yours."
"But this time
it would be."
Bane gazed at
the Realm Gate, studying the intricate patterns and carvings that
covered it. Some of the runes he recognised, others he had not seen
before, and the way in which they were used puzzled him. He sensed
powerful wards of warning and defence woven into the fabric of the
portal, directed towards the God Realm beyond. Kayos stood with his
daughter, cupping her cheek as he gazed deep into her tearful eyes.
Mirra stood beside Bane, her hand in his, and Grem waited nearby
with Mithran, both gazing around at the magnificent Gate Hall and
the glowing gardens outside. They wore hardy clothes and chain
mail, swords at their sides, daggers sprouting from their belts and
water skins slung over their shoulders.
Two Overworld
weeks had passed since Lyriasharin had asked for his aid, and he
had spent the time searching within himself for guidance and
pondering this new path that now stretched ominously before him.
The prospect of putting the people he cared about in so much danger
had kept him awake many nights, but Mirra had divined the source of
his unease and pointed out that Kayos would protect all of them
without Bane extracting another oath from him, because he was a
light god. More than that, the choice to come on the quest had been
theirs, and they had the right to control their destinies.
The prospect
of facing another dark god, one even more powerful than Arkonen,
still filled him with dread, however. He had fought Arkonen to save
the Overworld for Mirra's sake, but this dangerous adventure would
gain him nothing if Mirra chose not to accept his gift. The
prospect made him uneasy, and he wavered, tempted to revoke his
agreement and go back to his peaceful existence. The fact that
Learning to Kill: Stories