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wanted to hit her. "I am sick of your self-righteous prating. They struck
me!"
    She stood her ground, raising
her chin. "Let them go."
    His hand swung up, and her eyes
followed it, then he spun away, lowering it. "Damn you."
    She turned to the grovelling
bandit. "Go, quickly."
    Mirra had never seen men move so
fast. One moment they were there, the next, only the soft sigh of
the wind in the leaves and the faint trilling of a distant bird
disturbed the wood's peace. Bane stood with his back to her, his
shoulders stiff and his hands clenched. After she had gathered up
their belongings and put them back in the pack, she walked over to
stand beside him.
    "What would killing them have
achieved?"
    "Satisfaction," he growled.
    "It was unnecessary. They were
already terrified."
    He snorted. "They deserved it.
They are scum."
    "Even such as they can find
redemption, if given the chance. How did you make the rune
glow?"
    He looked down at it. "This?
Easy. It requires no power at all. It is merely activated, like
so." He traced another rune, making it glow. "It is just to limit
my use of the power. The more I activate, the more power I can use,
although if I need more, the others will become active on their
own."
    "Have you ever used seven?"
    "No." He rubbed the faded scar
in the centre of his chest. "Not since my... the Black Lord cut
it."
    She shivered, gazing at the
runes. "Can you stop them glowing?"
    "Of course." He looked down at
the scars, and the glow vanished, then his eyes flicked up to her
again as he fastened his tunic.
    Mirra smiled. "Thank you for
letting them go."
    He shrugged. "You asked." A
slight frown furrowed his brow. "Actually, you ordered, which I do
not appreciate."
    "Does it matter to you, what I
want?"
    Bane's face stiffened, and he
eyed her. "I suppose so."
    Mirra laid a hand on his arm,
and he stood still for once. "Why?"
    "I suppose... I owe you my
life."
    "I owe you mine."
    He shifted with apparent unease.
"What of it?"
    "The debts are cancelled. What
is the real reason?"
    He frowned. "You know perfectly
well. Your damned spell."
    "And you ought to know by now
that there is no spell."
    "Ought I?" He swung away,
shaking her off. "Whether I do or not is none of your damned
business."
    Striding to
the demon steed, he picked up
the pack and flung it onto the stallion's back, then mounted,
frowning at her before holding out his hand. Orriss had resumed its
normal horse aspect, and they set off again.
    As they rode, she pondered his
strange mood swings and the lameness of his argument, wondering
what was the matter with him. He seemed defensive, almost confused,
but perhaps it was the odd situation in which he now found himself
and the pain of the Black Lord's betrayal. He still did not trust
her, but found himself with no choice now, unless he rejected her
advice as lies and went after the Black Lord alone. She wished that
she understood him better, but since he hated to be questioned, he
remained a mystery. Despite his harshness towards her, his
confusion wrung her heart.

Chapter Three

    The Lady's Temple
     
    T hree more days of
travel through a gloomy, ash-covered countryside brought them to
the Lady's Temple. The demon steed's tireless gallop ate up the
miles at an astonishing rate, covering the distance that had taken
them weeks of travel at the army's pace. Its powers now had full
rein, with no wards to constrain it, and when they crossed wild
areas where no one would see them, its flying hooves swallowed up
the leagues. They learnt, from their encounters with bandits, to
avoid thickets and woodland, and the detours they had to make made
little difference to their time, since the demon steed could travel
much faster in open country.
    Twice they
spotted bands of mounted men in the distance, but their speed was
such that they were far past before the outlaws even had time to
turn towards them. Mirra came to appreciate the stallion's powers,
even though it was from the Underworld. Without the demon steed, it