Curse: The Dark God Book 2 (14 page)

Eresh pitched his voice so low that it was a strain for Talen to hear. “I see through your game, Handsman; you may have scored points with them. Not with me.”

Flax smiled and shrugged.

Eresh turned to the candidates. “If you’re going to beat Mokad, you need to think differently. You underestimated me. You came to me on my own terms. Even our blond wonder only thought to pair with one of you. The whole lot of you should have turned on me. Do you see now? Mokad will come, and if you try to stand against them man-to-man, you will die. And then, bish-bash, there goes your pretty field of blue and your brass sun. There goes your wife. Your pretty children. There goes your soul.

“You cannot beat them at their game. You cannot beat them as individuals. You will only beat them by breaking off a part and attacking it with the odds in your favor. And even then, you won’t be enough. So you will fight with cunning. You will ambush and harry. You will trap. You will flee.” He pointed at Talen. “You will take your enemy unawares with any weapon at hand. You will sing your enemy to sleep. You will not fight his war. You will fight your own. And you will remember that the fist is everything. There will be no single heroes in this army. You will stand together, or Mokad will scatter you like chaff before the wind.”

Commander Eresh paused and surveyed the candidates. “Mokad’s troops have already begun to arrive. So tonight you will prepare yourselves for the first quickening. We do not have time for luxuries. Those who pass will become dreadmen of the first level. Some of you will break. But even if we had time to wait for every last one of you to mature, some of you would still break. More will break when you go through the second quickening a few months from now. Still more will break when you move to the third. But you’ll never make it to the second or third if we don’t field a stronger force today.”

14

Gifts

ALL AROUND TALEN the candidates talked excitedly, some with surprise and eagerness, others with grim concern. As far as Talen was concerned, the quicker he moved through the changes that the lore were awakening in him, the better. He could smell the army about him. Smell the sweat of their bodies and clothes that hadn’t been washed in a week. Somebody’s bad breath kept assaulting him. Mixed in were the smells of the horses in the stables and the cooking swamp. And underneath it all were lovely whiffs of Fire and soul.

Lords, but he couldn’t wait until that craziness was gone.

Sugar came over to him, leading Legs along by the hand. “Well done. Very brave going against that wild man.”

Legs spoke up. “Indeed. Such valor deserves a poem. Luckily, I have sounded one out.” A few of the men in the immediate area overheard him and turned. Legs cleared his throat.

The Kish was insulting our men,

Dealing death with his boiled chicken.

A few of the men chuckled.

Mighty weapon in hand,

Talen said, “this won’t stand!”

And with his gourd he did the foe in.

Talen rolled his eyes. “That’s it?”

“A saga for the ages,” Legs said.

“I think your rhythm is off in that last line.”

Legs said, “I believe I shall call it ‘Talen, mighty wielder of lettuces and sundry vegetable products’. Or maybe ‘The Gourd Warrior’.”

The men about Talen hooted with laugher. A few clapped him on the shoulder. He smiled, going along with the joke, but would they have laughed as hard if they knew at every touch he wondered what it would be like to taste their souls?

Flax walked up then. He put his arm around Talen and held a jug of wine high. Talen tried to shrink away from his embrace, but the big man was strong.

“For Talen and the spoils of war!”

“Ho!” a number of men cheered.

“That’s not much spoils,” a skinny man said and pointed at the jug. “Divide that up, and each of us won’t get more than a lick.”

“Which is why,” Eresh said, cutting in, “I’ve ordered a barrel up from the buttery.”

The men turned to look at him.

Eresh continued, “Bring your cups with you when you come for your swamp this evening. We shall celebrate your quickening.”

Someone shouted, “Bloody Eresh!” The crowd responded with another “Ho!”

“Bloody Eresh!” the man shouted out again. This time more of the army picked up the refrain. The man shouted once more, and this time the “Ho” rose from the whole host, ringing about the walls of the inner bailey in a deafening chorus.

Eresh pinned Flax with his one good eye and gave him a look of contempt. Flax just smiled.

“He doesn’t like you very much,” said Talen.

“I can’t imagine why,” said Flax. “Do you think it’s my pants?”

This time Talen laughed.

* * *

Talen and Legs stood in line in front of the large cooking pots and got their bowl of swamp and a section of hard bread. Sugar said she’d already eaten, but made sure to get a generous serving for Black Knee.

They went and sat by a group of men asking Flax about his background and exploits as he ate. Someone asked him about the Hand and if he’d ever himself killed a Divine.

“Divines do not die easily,” he said, gesticulating with his spoon. “And killing a Divine isn’t always the objective.” Then he told a story about how he once was smuggled into the palace of an Urzarian Divine by a eunuch to steal weaves and scrolls of lore. He told another story about rescuing five of his fellow sleth from a hanging in Cath. He showed them a puckered scar on his back that he’d gotten from that exploit when a guard had skewered him with a knife. He showed them another scar from a tumble he’d taken out of a tree while avoiding a giant of Trolumbay.

The men listened raptly. Some added anecdotes of their own. Eventually the conversation wound around to whether there were more of the Hand coming. “Perhaps,” said Flax. “A few of the leaders have died. The others sent me to observe and report. I hope they join us.” He stood. “And now I need to run an errand.” He took his wooden bowl and spoon to the washing cauldron, rinsed it out, and put it in the stack to dry. Then he waved to them as he walked out of the bailey. The men turned back to the last bits of their meal.

“He appears to be a quality fellow,” said Black Knee.

“Aye,” said Talen, “that he does. What do you think, Legs?”

Legs had removed his father’s skull from Sugar’s pack and was soberly running his fingers over every crack and bump. Legs had told Talen many stories about his da; it was clear he loved the man. Talen hoped that skull brought him some solace.

Legs said, “Earlier, when I was waiting, Flax said he had things he might be able to teach me.”

Talen felt a little pang of jealousy. “Like what?”

“Things,” Legs shrugged.

“Maybe these are things I might benefit from too.”

“I don’t know if you’ll have the chance,” Black Knee said. “I’m hearing that Shim has decided the army needs to be out more, not squatting here at the fortress where it’s easy to find us. This won’t be a war of fortresses. And the speech our commander of chicken bones gave confirms it. So I think we’ll be splitting up.”

“What do you mean?” Talen asked.

“The army is going to be going out more. Patrols, raids, spying. I think Shim wants us to practice communication and maneuver, breaking up and disappearing as smaller groups, and then suddenly joining up in great numbers to surprise the enemy. I’m thinking we’ll camp in terrors. And they’ll send hammers and fists off on specific missions.” He looked at Sugar. “I don’t know what they’ll do with the women.”

“Commander Eresh seems to have other plans for them,” said Talen.

Sugar said, “Let him tell the Creek Widow to keep us out. I’d like to see that.”

“That’s indeed a fight I’d pay to watch,” said Talen. “But I doubt you’ll be coming with us. I bet the Creek Widow has plans for her fell-maidens.”

“How can I get myself in that fell-maiden fist?” Black Knee asked. “That’s what I want to know.” Then he looked down at Legs who was still running his fingers over the skull and said, “What are you going to do with that?”

“I don’t know just yet,” Sugar said. “Mother’s ancestors are buried back in old Koram across the sea. Da’s are in Koramtown. But part of me wants to keep him about.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” said Black Knee. “In fact, it’s a good idea to have some bones close by. It helps the ancestors find you. Myself, I keep a bone about my neck to help my grandfather remember me.” He pulled up a necklace with a small bone threaded through it.

“His finger bone?” asked Talen.

“No. This is from one of his dogs; they were his pride and joy. I imagine they’re in that place with him. They’ll snuff me right out.”

Sugar nodded.

“What about the other items you retrieved?” Talen asked Sugar. “What were they?”

“I don’t know,” said Sugar. “The Creek Widow is examining them.”

Over by the great hall, Argoth called out for the first fist of men to report for the quickening. All the eyes in the bailey watched the fist of men walk over and disappear through the door.

“Creators bless them,” said Black Knee.

As the men went into the hall, Ke exited. He spotted Talen and began to make his way over. A number of the women by the hall said something to him. Ke grinned, and they laughed. Sugar watched Ke, and then she looked at Talen. He looked over at her and her green eyes. She smiled, her teeth white against her honey skin, and something thunked inside of him, disorienting him a bit.

She got this look on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said and looked away. “I’d better go see if I can do anything to help the Creek Widow with these forcings.”

“Aye,” said Talen.

She gave him another look, hugged Black Knee, then left the three of them there. Talen watched her go.

When he’d died the first time, he’d been laid out on the dusty floor of the Mother’s cave like a doll with all its straw scattering to the wind. He’d been floating above himself until the monster stuffed him back into his bones and made a request. A request which Talen had fulfilled. And now, having met death once, Talen did not want to go into that peril again loaded down with regrets, if-onlies, should-haves, and small cowardices.

A man could die not having ever really lived. Life was like the setting sun—the spectacle lasted but a few moments, and if you were too stupid or afraid to seize the moment, it would be gone. He’d begun to think that Sugar was just such a moment. And if he delayed, that sunset would be gone forever, snapped up by one of the men here with the guts and sense to act.

“What are you looking at?” Black Knee asked.

“Nothing, grandfather,” he said. “Just contemplating the task of hauling you up the stairs.”

“Legs,” said Black Knee. “Let’s save Talen some effort. Why don’t you take me to your quarters instead?”

Legs bunked with Sugar and the fist of women training to become fell-maidens. “You’re a bit large to sneak in,” said Legs.

“I’ll pretend I’ve been blinded like you.”

“Oh, that will fool them for sure.”

Ke threaded past a group of soldiers and hailed them. “Still milking that leg wound I see,” Ke said.

“Indeed,” Black Knee said. “I was just telling Legs that it appears I’ll have to bed with him and his crew of women.”

“Maybe I need a leg wound,” Ke said.

“You’ve got plenty of admirers,” Black Knee said. “Leave the leg wounds to us less favored folk. Besides, I thought you were helping Argoth with this forcing, which means you won’t be using a bed anyway tonight.”

“No, I’ve got other duties.”

“Oh, other duties he says. Would these be duties with that milk maid from Grib?”

Ke groaned. “No. A bit of eyes and ears work.”

“Ah,” said Black Knee. “Well, watch out for Fir-Noy dreadman. That’s all I can tell you.”

“We shall,” Ke said. “But I’m not going to be gone long. I’ll be back in an hour or so. You keep a bed warm for me.” He turned to Talen and fished about in his pocket. “I’ve been meaning to give you something. I thought I’d better do it before all of the chaos tomorrow will bring.” He removed a length of ivory from a pocket.

The ivory was carved all over with intricate designs and banded in silver. Parts of it had yellowed. “Da’s sending,” Talen said and took the ivory.

It was like a whistle, as long as a finger, but a little thicker. There was a hole carved in one end that would allow it to be strung on a necklace. It was heavier than it appeared. A sending was supposed to be able to allow someone in the world of the flesh to communicate with the dead. Talen said, “I thought Da said these didn’t work.”

Ke shrugged. “I don’t know the lore. But I’m not giving it to you to call the dead. I thought you’d like to have it to remember him by.”

Da had secrets. Even Ke and River didn’t know them all. He had been the head root of the Grove of the Order of Hismayas here in the New Lands. He was obviously a man of great power. Who knew? Maybe he had actually called the dead with this.

“Thank you,” Talen said. The relationship between him and Ke had changed since the battle in the stone-wight’s warren. They’d become closer. Talen had always wanted to be like his older brother, always wanted Ke to be proud of him. A great sense of gratitude welled up in him at this gift.

“There are many stories of sendings working,” said Legs. “I think the legends are true.”

Ke looked down at Legs with his wild hair. “Oh?”

“My ancestor, he saw one of the shining ones.”

The shining ones were those from the world of the dead who had made the perilous journey to the great brightness and clothed themselves in flame. A soul all by itself was a weak thing, but clothed in everlasting burnings it became formidable. Of course, there were more than the souls of men who journeyed to the great brightness.

“You sure it wasn’t an herb-induced hallucination?” asked Black Knee. “Some old reprobate in your line?”

“He was indeed a reprobate, but I don’t think it was something he smoked.”

“So what happened?” asked Talen.

“Old Ethem was on a great cliff running from a bear. He knew he was going to die one way or the other. So he figured it would be better to die quick at the bottom of the cliff instead of in bits and pieces to the bear. He blew his sending and yelled for his grandfather, but just as Ethem was about to jump, that bear stopped. It walked back and forth a number of times as if something stood between it and its prey. Then it spooked. Ran off as if Ethem himself was the predator.”

“Sometimes bears bluff a charge,” said Ke.

“True,” said Legs. “But Ethem swore he saw the ancestor. Saw him like a flame. And then he was gone. Didn’t even linger to bind Ethem to a task.”

“All those old stories,” Talen said. “Why don’t you hear about the ancestors visiting someone now?”

“You do,” Legs said.

“Not like that.”

Black Knee nodded. “The dead seem to only communicate with the dead these days.”

“There are many things that are yet mysteries,” said Ke. “I don’t doubt the tale. Maybe this Ethem was spared for great things.”

“No,” said Legs. “He was tried and executed not much later for stealing his own lord’s mare.”

Black Knee laughed. “Which goes to show there’s no sense saving a man who lacks brains.”

Ke looked at Talen. “Do we just give up on you now then?” he asked.

“Har,” Talen said.

Ke grinned and clapped Talen on the shoulder. “Hold your course. Make Da proud.”

“I will,” Talen said and put the sending in his pocket.

Ke bid them a goodnight, then made his way to the stables.

“That’s a fine thing for your brother to give you.”

“Aye,” said Talen. It was a very fine thing.

By this time the sun had sunk low in the west. The shadows of the fortress walls stretched almost all the way across the bailey. The cooks and their helpers began cleaning up, the smoke of their extinguished fires filtering away. A number of hammers put on their gear went out to patrol or change places with those on the walls. Others were moving to their barracks. A few of the washerwomen who slept with Sugar’s fist in the grain cellar were retiring as well.