Servant: The Dark God Book 1

by John D. Brown

  The morning of the next 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 round.

  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 round the stone, watching the tooth weave its way in, around, and through the stomachs that lay on the rock. As it worked, 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 becoming more belligerent than ever, but that had not happened yet. Instead, they’d found gifts left on the graves in respect: apples or bunches of late summer flowers. There weren’t many gifts. But it surprised Talen there were any at all. Yesterday, they’d found a bowl of blood from a small sacrifice, clearly from someone who believed that the ancestors could drink the Fire of a newly killed animal as it poured forth.

  But well-wishers weren’t the only ones visiting the area. There were reports of something in the woods, something killing the deer and sheep. Legs said he’d heard and smelled 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.

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

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

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

  “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 wanting release. It’s him. I can feel it.”

  They built a fire, Legs sang a few mournful songs, and then they waited, watching the sun set and bats come out to flit over their heads. An owl swooped silently across the field below. Next to the graves, Nettle crawled in circles as if searching for something in the grass. It pained Talen to see his friend in such a state—half mad, the other half lost. But he respected Nettle for the sacrifice he’d made.

  When the light finally faded completely, Talen pulled on the gauntlets and removed the last raveler from the Skir Master’s case. The late summer air had turned cold with the promise of autumn. 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 on the other side of 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,” River said.

  The earthen figure, the one with the vicious muzzle, the one Da had been poured into, stood in the night shadow of the tree.

  “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, and that gave Talen pause. They didn’t know if Talen and the monster had killed the woman, or if she’d merely fled. If she wasn’t dead, then this creature, Da, could very well be her thrall.

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

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

  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.

  “Careful,” the Creek Widow said.

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

  The creature opened its ragged mouth, just like the first had. Talen’s shoulders and neck prickled in alarm. What if the woman had returned?

  Talen 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 late-summer grass. It stood for a moment regarding them, then reached out for Talen. He 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, and Talen wondered if it would destroy this tooth as the other monster had the first two.

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

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

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

  River stepped back.

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

  “Da,” River said.

  The monster threw its head back and opened wide its mouth. No sound escaped. But three ribbons of lavender light shot out and streaked up into the night sky. They weren’t as bright as those down in the woman’s cave, but shone nevertheless. Moments later, the monster leaned to one side, sagged, and fell heavily to the earth.

  Talen waited for the creature to move again, to continue the throes of its death, but it lay sti
ll as the earth from which it had been formed. Something silver flashed in the moonlight by the monster’s chest, and the raveler wriggled its way out of the creature’s side, dropping into the dry grass.

  Talen picked up the raveler, and it immediately stilled. He looked around, hoping the ancestors would arrive quickly to gather Da in. “Do you think they will come?”

  “Purity will find him,” River said. She looked out into the night. “Farewell, Father.”

  “What do you think it means that he had those ribbons in him?” Talen asked.

  “What ribbons?” River asked.

  “The ones like those down in the cave.”

  The Creek Widow shook her head. “I saw no ribbons.”

  “Neither did I,” River said.

  He had seen them; it hadn’t been his imagination. “They came out of his mouth. They were pale and faded. Like the ones with that sucker-faced woman.”

  “You don’t know that was her true form. She could have shown that awful visage to you on purpose. But that’s another matter.” The Creek Widow shook her head. “Those ribbons and your sight are yet another mystery. I feel it will be years before we answer them all.”

  River looked over at him and took his hand. She’d loved Da probably more than any of them, but there were no words to say. So they walked back to the camp fire to sit and drink tea and stare into the fire with their thoughts.

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

  “Knowledge and heart,” said River. “Remember: he was given the choice to rule and refused.”

  “Do the Divines choose?” asked the Creek Widow. “I wonder if they all leap to it.”

  “Regardless,” Talen said. “Da served the Creators to the last.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t compare him to Divines. I think 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, and 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 the dog 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?”

  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 pink and gold.

  “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.”

  “Sing while you may,” said the Creek Widow, “because a storm is going to come across that ocean, and when it breaks, it had better find us prepared.”

  “Will we be ready?” asked Sugar.

  “Only the Six know.”

  The End

  Dear Reader

  I HOPE YOU enjoyed Servant. If you did, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or another favorite bookseller’s website. Even if it’s only a line or two, your hearty huzzah will be much appreciated by ye doughty author as well as fellow readers looking for good books.

  For those wanting an even more noble reason, it’s rumored that the proceeds of the sales of this book are being donated to foundations actviely seeking to reintroduce hobbits back into the wild. And a few orcs, but only very small ones.

  Terms & 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 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, and Urz.

  The Six Orders of the Divine

  Fire Wizards

  Kains

  Skir Masters

  Guardians

  Green Ones

  Glories

  Infamous Divines include: The Goat King, The Witch of Cath, 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 & Purity

  Sugar

  Legs

  Mokaddians

  Argoth - Serah

  Nettle

  Bosser (Captain of the Vargon clan)

  The Creek Widow (Matiga)

  Fabbis (Son of a wealthy Fir-Noy lord)

  Leaf (The Eye of Rubaloth)

  Lumen (The missing Divine of the New Lands)

  Rubaloth (Skir Master of Mokad)

  Rose (Sister to Argoth, wife of Hogan the Koramite)

  Shim (Warlord of the Shoka clan)

  The Bailiff of Stag Home

  The Crab (Territory Lord with the most holdings of the Fir-Noy clan)

  Armsmen

  Every clan has various martial orders wi
thin it. The ranks of the vast majority of these orders are filled with those who are not full-time soldiers, but farmers, laborers, and craftsmen. However, there are orders in some clans of elite and sometimes professional soldiers. These are the orders of the armsmen.

  Bone Faces

  Barbarian raiders from the South who have begun striking Mokaddian holdings by sea.

  Dreadmen and Fell-maidens

  Those without lore who are endowed by Divines with weaves of might. When such weaves are worn, they multiply the wearer’s natural mental and physical abilities. However, the weaves carry a cost: worn too frequently, the body wastes, consuming itself to fuel the magic.

  Escrum

  A weave that binds the wearer to a master, allowing communication over long distances.

  Frights

  Not completely of the world of flesh, frights feed on Fire. They most often prey on the sick and dying, attaching themselves like great leeches.

  Godsweed

  An herb with properties said to repel some creatures such as frights and the souls of the dead. The smoke from one thin braid can rid a house of an infestation for many weeks. But its effect does not discriminate between frights, ancestors, or even the servants of the Creators. Hence the saying: take care to appease those you’ve chased with smoke.

  King’s Collar

  A weave wrought by a special order of Divines called Kains. Such collars not only prevent a person from working magic, but also weaken the wearer, making those captured easier to handle.

  Skir

  Orders of beings that inhabit the heavens as well as the deep places of the earth and sea. While invisible to the naked eye, many do exert power in the visible world and can be harnessed by those knowing the secrets. But not all are useful to man. Many orders of smaller Skir are deemed insignificant, while other powers are so dreadful none dare summon them.