Servant of a Dark God (59 page)

A Fir-Noy standing just beyond Uncle Argoth shouted. He leveled his spear and charged in for a death blow. He struck deep, but the monster simply ran him over, then plucked out the spear.

The Skir Master rose and began to search the ground about him frantically.

There was a movement at Talen’s feet. He looked down at the Crab. The man’s tunic had begun to smolder; but that wasn’t what had caught Talen’s attention. Something moved at the man’s ear. A glint of silver, and the long hag’s tooth came wriggling through the skin at the man’s temple.

Talen backed away.

The tooth curled an end as if sniffing the air. Then it wriggled the rest of the way out of his head and dropped to the ash.

Sugar pulled on Talen. “Lords!” she said. “Run!”

He scrambled to his feet, stumbled backward. He turned, only to find a dozen Fir-Noy, weapons drawn, charging straight toward him. Sugar and Legs ran one way. Talen was not quick enough and had to dive the other way to avoid them.

The men sped past and attacked the monster, but with one, two, three backhand swings the creature slew that many men. The remaining Fir-Noy hesitated.

The monster took a step and closed the gap between itself and the Skir Master.

The Skir Master turned and looked up at the beast.

At that moment, Leaf, who had retrieved his sword, screamed his battle cry and charged the monster again. His sword cut into the monster’s neck.

The creature grasped Leaf by the throat and lifted him up. Leaf yanked the sword out of the monster’s neck, then drove the blade deep into its chest. But it had no effect on the creature.

What kind of nightmare was it that could withstand a black sword of the Kains?

Then the monster twisted its grip and snapped Leaf’s massive neck like a twig. The big dreadman sagged in its hand.

The Skir Master rose in fury. In a flash, he charged the monster’s back. But instead of striking it with a weapon, he punched into it with his fist, going in up to his elbow.

The monster cast Leaf aside, the black sword still sticking out of its chest.

“Where is it?” the Skir Master cried. “Where is your quickening!”

The creature wrenched around, trying to get at the Skir Master, but the Divine was too quick.

“Clansman!” shouted the Skir Master, feeling inside the monster.

Uncle Argoth lay upon the ground, unmoving.

No, thought Talen. He can’t be dead. Lords, no!

Two more dreadmen closed on the creature. They carried spears and harried it, thrusting repeatedly at its head. Their movements were blinding fast. But it was useless, couldn’t they see that?

The creature grabbed one of the spears and jabbed it into one of the dread-man’s faces. The other dreadman struck, but the monster swung the spear and and gave the dreadman such a blow to the side that Talen was sure half his ribs had been staved in. The dreadman fell over backward.

The Skir Master withdrew his arm and punched into the back of the monster a bit higher. His arm sunk almost up to the shoulder. “Yes!” he said.

The monster reached behind its back. The Skir Master moved to one side, but then in a blinding flash the monster’s other elbow slammed into the Skir Master and sent him flying.

The Skir Master landed with a grunt many yards away on a clump of scrub.

The monster made a sound. A loud, horrible sigh. And turned toward the Skir Master.

Men littered this small battlefield. Talen looked around and saw a number of the Fir-Noy running. Those that did remain hesitated. The only dreadman still alive of those that had stayed by the cave was the one the monster had been dragging behind him. He stood, holding his side. He’d cut the rope connecting him to the monster, but had left the portion of the rope he’d knotted about his waist.

The Skir Master shook himself and rose, distaste and anger twisting his face. He held up something dark. Something he’d taken from deep within the monster. “You will not prevail,” he said.

But the monster seemed not to be affected.

The Skir Master stood his ground.

A sudden gust of wind kicked up dirt and debris. A huge crack sounded from the far side of the meadow. Talen looked and saw tree limbs as thick as a man’s body tossed into the air, swirling in a violent wind. The wind sped across the meadow, flattening the scrub of the clearing as it came.

The monster charged. One, two, three paces. It was almost upon the Divine.

But the wind was faster. It sped past the monster. The Skir Master stretched his tattooed arms out wide. The wind whipped about him. Then, before the monster could take another step, the wind picked him up and carried him into the air like a leaf in a storm.

The monster took two steps and sprang after him, leaping a dozen or more feet into the air.

Talen thought he saw it catch the Skir Master’s leg, but the wind thrashed the bushes, casting debris into his eyes. Then a huge gust slammed into Talen, knocking him onto his back. Something struck his face, nearly blinding him, and Talen covered his eyes.

The wind howled about him, then as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Talen rolled over and brushed dirt from his eyes, careful of the knife cut. Debris that had been cast into the air still fluttered about the whole meadow. He looked up. At first he saw nothing, and then, hundreds of yards above him, he saw the Skir Master and monster. He watched them sail upward into the morning sky until they were nothing more than black dots.

Talen’s hand stung. He found a thin twig sticking straight out of it, which he plucked out and cast aside.

Uncle Argoth shouted in pain.

Talen ran to him. He found Uncle Argoth huddling on his knees, the case of hag’s teeth lying in the grass beside him.

“Uncle,” Talen said. “Uncle.”

“No,” he said. “No, no, no.” Then he winced as if someone had struck him. He cried out in extreme agony.

Talen stepped back, expecting a hag’s tooth to wriggle its way out of him.

Argoth jerked. And then the terror fled his face and he sagged.

Talen put a hand gently on his back. “Uncle?”

Uncle Argoth turned, looked up at him. And then he heaved a great sob. He began to weep like a child.

“Talen,” said Sugar from behind. “Get the horse.”

“You’re going to be all right,” Talen said to Uncle Argoth. But it was a lie. “We’re all going to be all right.”

“By all . . .” said Sugar.

The fear in her voice made him turn. He followed her gaze into the sky and saw the Skir Master plummeting from the sky. Down he fell in a slow turn, one leg in front of the other as if he were taking one long lazy step.

He landed with a large, sickening thud at the edge of the clearing.

“Men!” the dreadman who had been dragged behind the monster shouted. He ran toward the Skir Master. One dreadman, the last that had manned the outer perimeter, followed. All the other dreadmen lay upon the ground. A group of the remaining Fir-Noy soldiers moved to join the dreadmen, but then exclaimed and shouted and pointed toward the sky.

Talen looked up. Another figure, larger and darker than the Skir Master fell from the heavens. It slammed to the earth only a few dozen paces from the Skir Master.

The Skir Master did not rise. But the monster did. It rose up, towering and fearsome.

It was impossible. This is the end, Talen thought. The very end.

The dreadmen halted, then turned and ran. The Fir-Noy shouted. Those on horse galloped for the other end of the valley. Those on foot followed, casting their weapons and what armor they could from them.

“Run!” he shouted to Sugar. “Run!”

He turned to Uncle Argoth on the ground. “Get up, Uncle! Get up!”

He pulled and tugged. Uncle Argoth looked up at him. “My boy,” he said and touched Talen’s face.

“Get up,” said Talen. “We need to leave.”

“He’s gone,” he said. “He’s gone.”

Talen glanced back. The monster raced toward them with giant strides.

There was no way Talen could outrun it, no way he could get to the Tailor in time. The creature crashed through the brush behind him.

Talen turned.

It stood not more than two paces away. Great hunks of dirt were missing here and there from its body, exposing bones of rock and some other substance. And yet the skin, if that’s what you could call it, moved like hundreds of worms to cover the rents.

The thing snorted and shook its head. It reached out and took a step forward.

THE MONSTER’S LAIR

H

unger’s desire to chase the Fir-Noy and consume them was immense. The battle with the enemy’s Skir Master had required huge amounts of Fire. The Skir Master had been very hard to break, but he’d killed him, just as the Mother had commanded. Killed him and reached through the doors of his binding to ravage the enemy whom the Skir Master served. But the Mother of the Skir Master broke the binding before he had a chance to do any damage to her.

He needed to eat. While he felt no physical pain, his body had sustained a large amount of damage. It would require Fire and soul to repair itself completely. He needed to eat. Except he dared not. If he distracted himself, he might lose this opportunity while it was in his grasp.

The Mother had commanded him to gather in all of this Grove of Sleth, all those who stunk. She’d commanded him to find the young male. He hadn’t recognized him at first. He’d recognized his scent, but couldn’t place it. But as he was carrying Ke and Matiga back to the Mother, he remembered smelling him in the yard of Sparrow, smith of Plum.

Hunger had found the male, Purity’s son. And he’d found the last member of the Grove. The last member that mattered. From Larther, he knew there were two others, but one had been lost for a very long time. The other, the rumored half-beast named Harnock, was elusive and unstable. In all the years Larther had been part of the Grove, he’d never once seen him. He suspected none even knew where he abode. But all those that lived on this side of the mountains had been accounted for. All except Argoth.

He could feel the Mother’s anticipation. And his own anticipation joined with hers. When he delivered these two, his task would be fulfilled. And she would be bound to let his family go. In the back of his mind he feared she would not keep that promise. But he pushed those fears aside. She kept her word; hadn’t she already proven that?

______

Sugar ran with Legs toward an outcropping of rock on the hill. Partway up she turned and watched the monster swat Talen aside as if he were nothing more than a grass doll.

Zu Argoth knelt in the grass, rocking back and forth, back and forth. He didn’t even look up to see the creature standing behind him.

Sugar watched as the thing bent over and picked up Zu Argoth, cradling him in one of its massive arms, and then it turned and looked directly at her.

“Down,” she said to Legs, pushing him behind the rock. “Down!”

There was no way she and Legs could outrun it. She could only hope it hadn’t seen her.

But it had. It had.

She waited there, listening.

Legs clutched at her hand.

She heard it coming, a pounding thump, thump, thump. Closer and closer. And then it was upon them. They couldn’t hide, couldn’t run. She glanced back, and the creature, in midstride, plucked Legs up and stole him from her grasp.

“Sugar!” he cried, panic on his face.

She bolted after him.

“Sugar!” he yelled.

The creature’s strides were immense.

Soon she was panting, her lungs burning, but she ran after him, laboring up the slope. The creature drew away from her, Zu Argoth in one arm, Legs in the other. One, five, ten strides, then it disappeared over the crown of the hill.

“Brother!” she yelled.

She could not go on.

“Brother!”

She doubled over, resting her hands on her knees. He was gone. Gone!

“Lords,” she cried. “No. Please, no.”

She slumped to her knees, panting, her mind racing. There was no way she could defeat it.

But she did know where its lair lay. She could lead an army there.

No. That would do nothing. It couldn’t be killed. Not by dreadmen, not by Skir Masters, not by whirlwinds. And then she thought of the remaining hag’s teeth. The Skir Master hadn’t been able to use them. Did they still lie below?

She turned and looked back downhill. The bodies of men lay scattered in the grass and scrub. The Crab smoldered in the coals of the fire, sending up a smoke that thinned in the breeze. Across the meadow the morning winds stirred the tree-tops. She spotted the Skir Master lying at the edge by a cluster of massive elms.

Something moved below. Talen was on his knees in the scrub.

“Hoy!” she called out.

Talen grabbed something then stood. He held his ribs on one side as if he’d injured them. Then he spotted her, and raised something high into the air, something silver that flashed in the morning light.

It was the case that contained the hag’s teeth. Maybe, she thought, they could stab the monster with one of those.

“I’m coming, brother,” she said. “I’m coming.”

At that moment, one Fir-Noy who had not fled with the others slowly rose from his hiding place. He gave Talen a glance, but turned away. As Sugar raced back down the hill, the Fir-Noy ran to a horse that still stood in the meadow. It was saddled, its reins tied to a bush. The Fir-Noy untied it, mounted, and then kicked it into a gallop heading away from her.

When Sugar reached Talen, he said, “I see you put the fear of Regret into at least one Fir-Noy.”

It was a hollow jest, but she responded in kind. “It’s a start,” she said.

He held the case up to her, showing its contents. Originally, there had been three spikes. Two remained. The spikes were almost the length of a span, their tips sharp as needles. She quickly scanned the ground around her, fearful of where the third one might be. The sight of it working its way out of the Crab’s temple still sickened her.

“We’re going after the others,” Sugar said.

“Of course we are,” said Talen.

She pointed, but didn’t dare let her finger get close. “What do you think the etching on the sides indicates?”