Demon Lord Read Online Free Page B

the chains. He smiled, enjoying his power. Everything
was afraid of him, and he liked that. No one had dared to touch him
since he had mastered the dark power in the Underworld four years
ago. Then an air demon, Yangarra, had tried to torment him by
sucking the air from his lungs and sniggering as he gasped - the
kind of cruel trick it had played on him for years. A burst of dark
fire had burnt it to ash. He had suffered the headache afterwards,
and his father's wrath, but it had been worth it. His father had
not dared to punish him.
    Bane picked up the cruel
headgear that allowed him to control the dragon. Vicious spikes
were attached to a thin chain bridle, and gouged the beast's muzzle
whenever Bane jerked on the reins. He pulled it onto the cowering
beast's head and fastened it so it could not be shaken off. The
trolls shuffled away as he threw the thick woolly skin over the
animal's back and mounted. The dragon writhed, hurt by his touch.
He prodded it with a sharp metal goad, making it lurch forward into
its smooth flowing run with a resentful hiss.
    The army followed him through
the next valley and into a town at its far end. Only a few aged
livestock and an old man who died of fright when he saw the first
troll inhabited it. Although expected, Bane found the Overworld
people's cowardice annoying. It robbed him of his daily
entertainment. The troops took some enjoyment in setting the
village alight, but Bane found little satisfaction in that.
    Leaving the town to burn, he led
them down the road a few leagues before he stopped and turned to
survey them with narrowed eyes, searching for a bold look or a
defiant air amongst them. If he could find fault with one of them,
he could devise a painful punishment for his amusement. The men
cowered, giving him no excuse for such an action, and he snorted in
annoyance. If he tortured one of them for no reason, they would
leave, and he did not relish the prospect of doing everything
himself. He turned and led them onwards. There had to be some old,
weak, sick or injured stragglers that could provide sport for the
evening.
    By the end of the day, a group
of trolls had found only one child lost in the woods, but had torn
him apart in their eagerness. When Bane found out about this, he
had them whipped for cheating him of his evening's entertainment.
That provided some small measure of the amusement he craved,
although it was not as satisfying as torturing an innocent. He was
tempted to scry, but that used the dark power, and would bring back
the headache.
    By the time they camped for the
night, Bane's mood had turned ugly, and he kicked Mord when the
troll brought his supper. The food, a reddish concoction sent from
the Underworld, was his only sustenance. He pondered it as he ate,
ignoring its bitter taste. As an Underworld creature, Overworld
food would be poison to him, his father had said. The Black Lord
was naturally concerned for his son's health, although Bane was
unsure how Overworld food could poison him when he was so powerful.
His father seldom explained things, however. He simply expected
obedience.
    Like making Bane hate women. He
must have had a reason, but he had never told Bane what it was.
Instead, he had filled his son's head with terrible stories about
witches and evil women since he had been old enough to understand
them. Then, when Bane was fifteen, the Black Lord had captured a
pretty girl and brought her to the Underworld. She had begged Bane
for mercy, since he was the only creature there who even resembled
a human. Every time he had looked at her, his father had grown
angry, accusing him of weakness and sentiment. At first, she had
fascinated him, but his father's mockery and the demons' baiting
had made him hate her, and his father had ordered him to kill
her.
    Up here, he had come across many
women, and found that they died as easily as men. None lived up to
the stories his father had told him. Not even the healers in the
abbeys. They had been the easiest to