Servant of a Dark God

by John Brown

  The boy cried out again with his high-pitched squeal, terror written on his face. He tried to run off again, but Sabin kicked him in the gut so hard it knocked the boy over.

  “Pull up his tunic,” said Fabbis. “We’ll see if Zu Snake wants a taste of walnuts and sausage.”

  Leave it to Fabbis to think something like this up. Rat snakes carried no venom, but that didn’t lessen the pain of their bite. Fabbis and Sabin had both gotten their clan wrists, which only proved those tattoos meant nothing. These two weren’t men.

  Talen turned to see if Nettle had followed, if anyone had come, but he was alone.

  Talen did not know this boy; he could quietly step back around the trees and wait for Nettle. Step back and let the Mokaddians do what they pleased. That would be the smart thing, but this would only get worse. Besides, hadn’t he been that boy only yesterday?

  “Surely,” said Talen, “you could get at the vital parts a bit better by making him stand.”

  Fabbis looked back over his shoulder. When he saw Talen, his face broke into a wicked grin. “I was just saying to Sabin here, wouldn’t it be nice if Turd Soup joined us? Where’s the Koramite lover you came with?”

  “At the fuller’s.”

  “Well, we don’t need to wait for him. Come on over here, half-breed. You can help.”

  At one of the musters last year Talen had momentarily left his lamb soup to fetch a load of arrows for Da from the wagon. When he returned, he took a spoonful and found someone had slipped rabbit turds into the bowl. When he looked around, he’d seen Fabbis and Sabin watching him, grinning with delight.

  Talen knew exactly what kind of help Fabbis meant. Usually Fabbis also had Cat with him, a boy who kept his dark hair oiled and shining and painted his eyes with kohl as many of the sons of the clan lords had begun to do. Talen looked about, but it appeared Fabbis and Sabin were alone. “Actually,” said Talen, “you’ve done me a great service. The fuller asked that I find his stable boy. And there he is. I’m sure the fuller would be interested to know how you’ve corrected him.” Talen held his hand out. “Now, come along, boy.”

  The boy’s eyes were red. His face covered with dirt and tears.

  Sabin began to let go his grip, but Fabbis put a hand out to stop him.

  “This, a fuller’s boy?” Fabbis shook his head. “I don’t think so. Besides, the thief was sneaking into that house when we came along. We only thought to wring a confession from him. Maybe identify the members of his cabal. There’s never just one, you know.”

  “I wasn’t stealing,” said the boy.

  “Shut up,” said Sabin and clopped the boy on the head.

  Talen knew what that felt like as well. He was positive the boy hadn’t been doing anything close to breaking and entering. He’d probably been walking along, minding his own business, and Fabbis had spied him and seen an opportunity for yet another small-minded torture. “I’m sure the street boss would commend your vigilance,” said Talen. “Not to mention the fuller. Think what it would cost him were his servant to be caught stealing. Let’s take him to the fuller; I’m sure he’ll reward you just to keep your mouth shut.”

  Talen glanced about. Nobody had come to investigate the cries. His best bet was to leave now and get some help.

  Fabbis looked at Sabin. “Maybe he’s right. What were we thinking? Deliver the boy to Master Half-breed.”

  Sabin approached, malevolence in his lazy eye. But Talen knew exactly what he was going to do, and he wasn’t going to let Sabin within a dozen feet. “Just let him go,” said Talen, taking a step back. “I’m sure he’s seen the error of his ways.”

  “Of course,” said Sabin, but just then Talen heard something behind him. He turned and saw Cat, painted eyes and shining hair, with a rope. Talen dodged out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough and the rope fell about his shoulders.

  Talen grabbed at the rope, but Cat gave it a yank, and the rope tightened about his neck. Cat yanked again and Talen stumbled to his knees, the rope choking him.

  Talen pulled at the noose with one hand and grabbed the rope with the other.

  “It looks like we’ve rolled double pleasure with today’s dice,” said Fabbis. He kicked Talen in the side. “Get his feet.”

  Panic rose in him, and Talen yanked at the rope with all his might. He didn’t expect to wrest it free from Cat so easily. But Cat could not keep his grip. He yelled and opened his hands as if they’d been burned. Talen loosened the noose and rolled to his feet.

  Fabbis pulled back the snake to swing it into him. But Fabbis hadn’t taken a good stance, and Talen delivered a sweeping kick that knocked Fabbis’s feet from underneath him.

  He fell, arms wheeling, the snake flying wide.

  Talen saw his chance. He snatched the snake as it flew. And before it could coil about his arm and bite him, he grasped it by the base of the head.

  Fabbis landed with a thump, and Talen fell upon him, driving his knee into Fabbis’s gut.

  Fabbis grunted. He tried to roll, but Talen stuck the serpent in his face.

  “Should we see if Zu Snake wants a taste of walnuts and sausage?” asked Talen. “No? How about a kiss?” Talen shoved the mouth of the snake against Fabbis’s cheek.

  Fabbis turned his head away.

  “No kiss?”

  Fabbis tried to struggle away, but Talen found he could hold him.

  He couldn’t explain it. This shouldn’t be happening. Da forced Talen to wrestle Fabbis in the musters. He said the best practice for fighting someone bent on your death was to fight someone bent on your death. And since they didn’t have a large supply of young Bone Faces about, he found the next best thing-a Fir-Noy. Fabbis always beat him. Once he’d broken Talen’s nose just to spite him. But perhaps Talen had finally begun to get his speed and size. He glanced over at Sabin to make sure he didn’t get blindsided, but Sabin just stood there with his mouth hanging slack like some great fish.

  Cat had not moved. He still stood in the same spot, his hands held out in front of him.

  Then Talen noticed Nettle just beyond Cat, a look of surprise on his face.

  “Oh, now you show up,” said Talen. “Grab the boy.”

  The beggar boy looked at Talen with fright on his face. He pulled away from Sabin and ran down the lane.

  “How sad,” said Talen to Fabbis. “Your bounty has just floated down the river.” He got up, making sure to push down extra hard on Fabbis’s gut with his knee.

  The snake tried to coil itself around Talen’s arm, but Talen simply changed his grip, grabbed the tail, and let it hang loose.

  Fabbis scrabbled to his feet and backed away, weeds clinging to his clothes and hair. He had a strange look in his eyes. “Nobody moves like that,” he said.

  “I just did,” said Talen. Then he swung the snake at Fabbis. “Don’t be scared.”

  Sabin and Cat backed away as well.

  “Oh, come,” said Talen to Sabin. “You were willing enough to tangle with me yesterday.”

  “Stay away,” said Fabbis. He backed up, Sabin and Cat not a pace behind him.

  Talen couldn’t believe it. “Cowards,” he said. Da had always told him that the meanest bullies were always the biggest cowards. He had never believed that. But maybe it was true.

  Fabbis pointed at him. “You’re a dead man.”

  “Ya!” Talen shouted and lunged at them.

  The three of them startled, turned, and ran.

  Except Talen knew Fabbis: he wasn’t running away. Fabbis wasn’t one of those who could be satisfied knowing he’d been beaten. He’d be back, and he’d bring others with him.

  Talen gently let the snake to the ground, and the creature slithered away toward the cover of the trees.

  “That was,” said Nettle in amazement, “unexpected.”

  “You were right,” said Talen. “I didn’t need to spook.”

  “No,” said Nettle. “I meant you.”

  What was his cousin talking about?

  “You p
lucked the snake right out of the air.”

  “So?”

  “So,” said Nettle, “I came around the corner and saw Cat holding the rope and Fabbis coming at you. But before I took another step you were on him. It was… too fast.”

  “Too fast?”

  Had he always been so slow? “Maybe, at last, my speed has come upon me.”

  “Yeah,” said Nettle, but Talen could see he wasn’t convinced.

  “Is it impossible that Hogan’s runt suddenly got some of his old man’s growth?”

  “No,” said Nettle. “But I can tell you this: Fabbis won’t see it that way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That was dreadman quick, Talen.”

  “I just grabbed the snake,” he said. He’d just been lucky. Lively with alarm and fear.

  Nettle said nothing, that look of astonishment still on his face, but he was right. Fabbis would twist what had happened. He would be back. About that there was no doubt. And if Fabbis ran into that group of men by the baker’s, it would be only a matter of minutes before he returned.

  “We need to get out of here,” Talen said.

  “Act normal,” said Nettle.

  “Will you stop with the normal,” said Talen. “Get in the wagon.”

  21

  THE DIVINE

  The severed hand of the creature lay upon a table in the center of the Mokaddian Council chamber. Almost two dozen Council members crowded about Argoth as he probed the hand. They had heard almost two hours of testimony about the hunt at the village of Plum, the taking of Barg’s family, and the battle at the fortress. It was now Argoth’s turn to relate his tale. He wondered where Hogan was. He should have been here an hour ago.

  One of the fingers broke off, and Argoth flaked away small pieces of dirt and grass with his knife. “You can see,” said Argoth, “what appears to have been bone and sinew. But look.” He scraped at the finger innards with his knife.

  The men crowded in. A nearsighted lord of the Harkon clan leaned over close.

  Shim stood next to Argoth, his bright eyes shining in his leathern face. “It crumbles like common dirt,” Shim said. “As if it were nothing more than a child’s mud doll.”

  One of the men cursed. “Who can fight dirt?”

  None spoke. All knew the answer to that question. But Argoth wondered. Matiga kept the weaves of their Grove. She had the ancient crown that gave its wearer incredible might. The powers it bestowed were not just those of the flesh as were given to dreadmen. It was power from the very earth itself. Victors is what the wearers of such crowns had been called. And, though the records were sparse, it appears these victors had put armies to flight. They had toppled fortress walls. Surely, such a one could overcome this beast.

  Of course, much had been lost. They knew how to quicken the crown. But could they wield it like those of old? Abilities ran in bloodlines. Some men could multiply themselves. Others who couldn’t might be able to do other things. Hogan and Ke could control some of the crown’s power. But they had been waiting to see what Talen might do. He had not yet been awakened, and so whatever gifts he might have still lay dormant. But he was full of peculiarities. Full of possibility. There was always much anticipation seeing what a new member of the Grove was capable of.

  The Crab caught Argoth’s gaze. He was not looking at the hand like the other men. He was looking directly at Argoth. What was he hiding? Did he have reason to suspect Argoth as Shim had?

  Finally the warlord for the Mithrosh spoke up. “And what of its bones? Are those dirt as well?”

  A clamor arose outside the chamber. The men crowding around the table turned and the doors opened. In walked three dreadmen, the only three with any power left in their weaves. Between them they escorted Hogan as if he were a criminal. About his neck was a king’s collar.

  Argoth’s heart dropped like a stone. Did they know about the Order? He met Hogan’s gaze, but he could read nothing there.

  Shim turned to the dreadmen. “What is the meaning of this?” He did not raise his dry voice, but every face turned to look at him.

  The Crab, the red-faced Fir-Noy territory lord, raised his hand in a placating gesture. “It is what prudence demands. If he’s innocent, we’ll find that out. If he’s not, it will have prevented us from having to hunt him down. Because, once alerted, I am sure we would not have gotten a second chance.”

  Argoth looked at the Council, wondering who was in on this. The Council was made up of a primary and secondary body. The Primary, those who spoke for each clan, consisted of the territory lord and warlord for each clan. It also included the bailiff of the Koramites. Their faces revealed nothing. Argoth looked at Shim.

  Had Shim revealed his secret? Had he been trying to trap him before at the fort?

  Shim did not look like a man playing cat and mouse. Argoth knew his lined face. The expression he wore now was the same he wore when preparing for battle.

  “You cannot simply collar a man without cause,” Shim said to the Crab. “Unless, of course, this is some ploy to goad us into doing the same to some troublesome relative of your own.”

  Some in the room smiled at his joke. But the Crab did not.

  “We do have cause,” said the Crab.

  Shim folded his arms and waited.

  If the Crab and his allies knew Arogth’s secrets and had devised a trap, this would be a good time to spring it. He glanced at the dreadmen to see if they were positioning themselves to overcome him, but they remained by Hogan. Nevertheless, Argoth began to build his Fire.

  “The Koramite was there when the creature broke into the tower,” said the Crab. “You yourself say that you were only there for a short time. What are the odds that this beast would show up exactly at that moment?”

  “Nonsense,” said Shim. “I charged Captain Argoth with that very task. And the Koramite himself fought the beast. Look at him. The bruising on his neck and face belies your charges.”

  “Almost,” said the Crab. “But when Captain Argoth was cast aside and only the Koramite stood in its way, it suddenly ran away. Isn’t that odd?”

  “That is not what happened,” said Argoth.

  The Crab turned on him. “Your devotion to the man’s deceased wife might be clouding your vision.”

  Argoth had borne all the backbiting when his sister had first decided to marry Hogan. He had told everyone that Hogan had indeed enchanted her-with his wit, his handsome strength, and his good-hearted laugh. He thought that had all been put to rest, but he saw that there would always be people like the Crab who thought it their duty to keep such doubts and rumors alive.

  “My vision is crystal clear,” said Argoth. “I was there. You were not. We were outside when it broke into the tower.”

  The Crab turned back to the Council. “It had no eyes. The Koramite might have been acting as a guide.”

  Argoth had seen something that looked like eyes on the monster, pits they were. But all askew and in such an unnatural position. “You assume it needed to see,” said Argoth. “But, if you remember, we found it in the dark. It navigated well enough to elude the cohorts of the fortress. If it could do that, I do not think it needed a guide.”

  “We only want to be sure,” said the Crab. “Nobody can speak with any authority about this creature. But even if we could, you are right, the timing of the creature’s appearance is certainly not enough to accuse a man. But there’s more, a pattern, if you will. The Koramite refused a legal search.”

  “Legal?” asked Shim. He looked to a bailiff with the ice-cold eyes. “Did those armsmen apply to you for a token?”

  “No,” said the bailiff. “Nevertheless, I myself conducted a search.”

  “And?”

  “We found nothing but two youngsters sporting behind a closed door.”

  “They were alerted by the first attempt at a search,” said the Crab. “They had a night to remove anything that might compromise them.”

  “Oh, come,” said Shim. “Your zeal has exceede
d all bounds.”

  “And here is the third part of the pattern,” said the Crab. “We just received word that the Koramite’s own son has been seen in the city performing feats only dreadmen can.” He turned to the whole Primary then. “And this witnessed by at least five Mokaddians. What’s more telling is that Captain Argoth’s son was with him.”

  A murmur arose in the chamber.

  What had happened in the city? Argoth hadn’t even known Talen and Nettle were here.

  Shim waved his hand, calling for quiet. “Anyone can make up a story. Where is the corroboration?”

  “One or two stories,” said the Crab. “I agree, we could discount them. But too many swirl about this man. He was a friend to Sparrow the smith.”

  Argoth looked at Hogan, still wearing the token of the Council, obviously a ploy to get him to come in. The Crab and his allies here had maneuvered Shim.

  “On that basis then you yourself should wear this collar,” said Shim. “Didn’t you visit Sparrow’s smithy many times? And did you not visit the tower on the night it was struck? A pattern, is it not?”

  Argoth could see that Shim’s comments struck a chord with some of the Council members.

  “We will proceed with the correct protocol,” said Shim. “Let those who accuse Hogan’s son come forth and swear to take upon them the punishments prescribed by law should they be found to bear false witness. If they swear, then we shall proceed. And I will oversee every questioning session.”

  “But we have already applied to a Divine to oversee the questioning,” said the Crab.

  A Divine? There was no Divine here.

  A murmur arose. A lord of the Vargon spoke. “Mokad has finally sent us aid?”

  “No,” said the Crab. “Not just aid. The Glory of Mokad has sent us Rubaloth, Lord of the Winds.” Many of the lords stood straighter. Surprise shone on their faces, then it turned to hope.

  There were only a few dozen Divines in the whole realm of Mokad. Unless, of course, the Glory had raised others since Lumen disappeared. Rubaloth, the Skir Master, was the most ancient of them all. He was powerful. Some said as powerful as the Glory himself.