Servant of a Dark God (69 page)

And so it happened that on the morning of a cool autumn day, Talen placed the monster’s stomachs on a large slab of granite on their farmstead. The survivors of the battle in the cave gathered around.

Talen donned the fine, white, gold-studded gauntlets and removed the last hag’s tooth from its silver case. He held it up.

“This,” he said, “is to honor the bravery of Barg, Larther, and all the many other things that composed the servant of our enemy. May they find the safe path in the world of souls.”

Then he lowered the tooth to the stomachs. When its sharp tip touched the first stomach, it came to life and wriggled out of his hand.

All stood around the stone, watching the tooth weave its way in, around, and through the stomachs that lay on the rock. The blackness of the withies leached away, leaving behind simple wood.

A small breeze gusted through, and then, for the briefest moment, Talen thought he heard singing.

The tooth wriggled out of the pile of spent stomachs and rolled off the rock into the dust.

Talen picked it up. It had yet one more task to perform.

That evening Talen stood on the hill above the farmstead. At his feet lay three graves: one for Mother, a new one for Da’s body, and another for that of Sugar’s mother.

When Sugar had said she had no home, River and Talen had insisted she did. It was too risky for her to go back to her village and gather up any of her father’s bones that might remain. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t make a small monument for the time when they could retrieve the bones. Nor did it mean they couldn’t bury Sugar’s mother here.

Talen had expected someone to desecrate the graves, for the Fir-Noy were causing more troubles than ever. But that had not happened yet. Instead, they’d found gifts left on the graves in respect. Some were gifts of apples, others were bunches of late summer flowers. There weren’t many. But it surprised Talen. Once they even found a bowl of blood from a small sacrifice. It was believed by some that the ancestors could drink the Fire of a newly killed animal as it poured forth.

But there were no gifts this evening. Instead, Nettle crawled in circles below the graves as if searching for something in the grass. Uncle Argoth had told them all what he’d done, and it pained Talen to see Nettle so. Half mad, the other half lost. Legs, River, and Sugar were with Talen on the hill.

There were reports of something in the woods, something killing the deer and sheep. Legs said he’d heard it one night in the yard. They had found footprints the next morning, and the evening after that Talen had seen its face in the shadows staring at him. They’d tried to track it, but lost the trail, and the dead bodies of animals began to mount.

“Let us hope it isn’t the woman seeking revenge,” said River.

“If it were, wouldn’t it be killing humans?” asked Legs.

“It’s Da,” said Talen. “Who else could it be?”

“I don’t know,” said River. “We hardly know anything.”

“Well, I know this,” said Talen. “During that last battle, it was Da that was looking at me from the eyes of the earthen figure. It was Da in that awful body, and he wants release.”

They built a fire when the sun set, Legs sang a few mournful songs, and then they waited, watching the bats flit over their heads and an owl occasionally swoop silently across the field below.

Talen wore the gauntlets. In his hand he held the last raveler. The case now lay on the ground at his side.

The air was cold with the first breath of autumn. The leaves had begun to turn color and fall, and he could smell the fine scent of leaf mold. It had not yet frozen hard enough to kill all the insects, so the mosquitoes rose as the sun set, but an evening wind kicked up to blow them away. River fed the fire, and they waited, the stars shining above them in the night sky, a hard-edged sliver of a moon giving them light.

One by one each of the others fell asleep in their bedrolls, but Talen did not. He waited and watched, and when he began closing just one eye to rest it, he roused himself and stood.

A light burned in the window of their house across the field below. Ke was there, being nursed back to health by the Creek Widow.

Talen walked to a stone on the far side of the hill. When he came back, he found River awake, making them both a cup of tea, the Creek Widow sitting next to her. Talen took his cup gratefully, then sat with the two of them, sipping the red liquid and letting the cup warm his fingers.

He looked at his sister. She had tried to kill him. He did not hold it against her. However, she was not quite the sister he knew from before.

He’d just poured himself a second cup when a branch cracked at the edge of the wood behind them.

Talen turned.

He could make nothing out at first; the shadows along the forest edge were too deep.

“Just to the left of that great pine,” said River.

It was the earthen figure, the one with the vicious muzzle, the one the monster had awakened.

“Slowly,” the Creek Widow said.

They rose and faced the creature.

“Da?” Talen called out.

The thing did not move. It was covered in grass as the first monster had been. Talen hesitated. The other creature had been so powerful.

Behind them the fire popped, and Nettle snuggled up closer to Legs.

“Father,” said River, taking a step forward.

“Careful,” said Talen.

But the creature stepped out of the deep shadows of the wood into the remaining vestiges of the moonlight. In one hand, it held a doe by the leg, dragging it along behind like a child might an overlarge doll.

“We’ve brought help,” said Talen and held up the raveler.

The creature opened its ragged mouth.

It reminded Talen of the first creature, and he began to fear. What if the woman
had
returned?

He forced himself to take another step forward. Then another.

Soon he stood an arm’s length away.

This body was shorter than the first one. It was made of more than dirt and stone, for he saw many growths of withy wood rising from its skin.

“The ancestors are waiting,” said Talen. “It is time for your release.” He held the last raveler up.

The creature dropped the doe into the tall autumn grass. It stood for a moment, and then it reached out for Talen. At first Talen thought it was going to grasp him by the throat as the first had, and he stiffened. But it simply ran its rough fingertips down the side of his face.

River touched its arm. “You watched over us here. Watch over us now from the other side.”

The Creek Widow said nothing, but Talen could see she was trying to hold back tears.

The monster that was Da grasped the raveler. Talen could feel the horrid strength in that stony hand. Now was the moment. Talen wondered if it would destroy this tooth as the other monster had done.

“We will see you in brightness,” Talen said, and he released the raveler.

The monster held it up in the moonlight as if examining it. Then the spike flashed to life and burrowed into the rough hand.

The creature opened its ragged mouth and took a terrible breath.

River stepped back.

The creature stood for quite some time, its arm outstretched, as if noting the progression of the raveler. Suddenly, it looked down and felt its chest. Then it looked back up at Talen and River and staggered back a step.

“Da,” River said.

The monster threw its head back and opened wide its mouth. No sound escaped. But three shining ribbons of lavender light shot out and streaked up into the night sky. Moments later, the monster leaned to one side, sagged, and fell heavily to the earth.

Talen waited for it to move again, to continue the throes of its death, but it did not move. Something silver flashed in the moonlight and the raveler wriggled its way out of the creature’s side, dropping into the dry autumn grass.

Talen picked up the raveler and it immediately stilled. He looked around. He hoped the ancestors had been there and gathered Da into safety. “Do you think they came?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” asked River.

“Those ribbons,” said the Creek Widow and trailed off. “So many questions.”

Earlier they had discussed the glorious visions of the woman or man, or whatever it was in the cave. He told the Creek Widow he’d seen its true form, but the Widow had questioned that—how did he know it hadn’t shown that awful visage to him on purpose? Indeed, the Creek Widow was right. There were so many questions for which they had no answers.

Talen looked into his sister’s eyes, then he took her hand and they walked back to the campfire to sit and drink tea.

The Creek Widow stayed back with the body for some time, talking to it, talking to Da. When she returned, he gave her another cup of tea. He motioned at the gauntlets and raveler case. “A little bit of knowledge,” said Talen. “That’s all that separated Da from the Divines.”

“In a way that’s true,” said River. “But in another it’s not. The Divines serve their own masters. But Da served the Creators.”

“At least what we know of them.”

“That is right,” said River. “He was more like one of the old gods than anything else.”

That set Talen back. The old gods were the stuff of stories and legend.

“Imagine what he could have done,” said River, “if he had been able to practice in the open.”

“He would have blessed the hens,” said Talen. “He would have multiplied their eggs.”

River looked sidelong at him. “How do you know he didn’t?”

“Goh,” said Talen. And he realized Da probably had. Their farm had prospered. Not always. The hens had died, after all, but even the peach trees seemed to bear more fruit than those of the neighbors.

“Da would be so pleased to know that the vision he worked for is now beginning to come to pass,” said River. “Not in the way he hoped, but coming to pass nevertheless.”

“Perhaps,” said the Creek Widow.

“We’ll be attacked on all sides,” said Talen.

“We will,” said River. “But we should have a season to prepare. And if we ultimately fail, we will go out like Da, fighting.”

Talen nodded. He wrapped the white gauntlets and raveler case in a cloth and placed them in a sack and put it aside. “If Da was like one of the old gods, does that also mean I have to worship you? Because I’m just not going to do it.”

River laughed then she hit him on the forehead with the heel of her palm. “You will always worship me.”

“I will,” said Talen. And he meant it.

They began to reminisce about Da and Mother. The Creek Widow added stories Talen had never heard before. Every remembrance seemed to call forth three more, and soon the bittersweet memories came as a flood.

So many memories.

Sugar and Legs woke to the Creek Widow’s laughter, and after being led to view the creature’s body, they joined Talen and River at the fire, drinking tea and adding the stories of their family. Nettle slept on. But the rest of them talked through the night, the fire crackling at their feet, the stars shining brightly above.

When the eastern sky began to lighten, Blue and Queen joined them, Blue hobbling up the hill on three legs. His hind leg was still worthless, but the injury was healing clean. Eventually he found Nettle and licked his face until he woke.

“Blue,” said Nettle in recognition. He turned and looked at the others by the fire. “What have I got to do to get something to eat?”

“He’s not all gone, is he?” said River.

“You only wish,” said Nettle.

Talen and River looked at each other. Could the old Nettle have come back?

But then Blue licked his face again and Nettle began to roll around like a toddler, playing with the dog.

Down at the farmstead Prince Conroy began to crow, and as the sun rose it turned the ripple of thin clouds a breathtaking gold and pink.

“We’ll need to lever that body onto a cart,” said Talen, “and take it home to Uncle Argoth.”

“No,” said River. “I think in this case we shall leave it where it is and build over it a monument of stones.”

Talen nodded. “After that we’ve got a field of barley to mow.”

“I will help,” said Sugar.

“And I,” said Legs, “will dance and sing.”

TERMS AND PEOPLE

POLITICAL HIERARCHY

While there are many variations, the basic power hierarchy in the realms of the western glorydoms flows from the Glory down:

Glory

|

Lesser Divines

|

Territory Lords and Warlords

|

District Lords and Village bailiffs

There are still some small areas of the known world ruled by barbarian kings or chieftains, but almost all of these pay tribute to one Glory or another in the form of treasure, slaves, or Fire. The major western glorydoms include Mokad, Koram, Nilliam, Kish, Urz and Cathay.

THE SIX ORDERS OF THE DIVINE

• Fire Wizards

• Kains

• Skir Masters

• Guardians

• Green Ones

• Glories

Infamous Divines include the Goat King, the Witch of Cathay, and Hismayas, the ancient lord of the Sleth.

MAJOR MOKADDIAN CLANS WITH HOLDINGS IN THE NEW LANDS

• Birak

• Burund

• Fir-Noy

• Harkon

• Jarund

• Mithrosh

• Seema

• Shoka

• Vargon

KORAMITES

Hogan

River

Ke

Talen

Sparrow and Purity

Sugar

Legs

The Creek Widow/Matiga

MOKADDIANS

Argoth and Serah

Nettle

The bailiff of Stag Home

Bosser (captain of the Vargon Clan)