Curse: The Dark God Book 2 (17 page)

Talen left Ke and ran back to the fortress gate. He entered the inner bailey and found a group of candidates crowding around a body lying upon the ground. Commander Eresh stood among them. He was livid. “You fool!” he said to Flax.

“I just killed you a dreadman,” Flax said.

“You just killed someone we might have gotten to talk.”

“He wouldn’t have talked.”

“He would have talked to me!” Eresh roared. He turned to a group of candidates.“Drag his body into the hall so we can get a better look at him. And bring his head.”

Four candidates picked up the body. Another grabbed the severed head that was still dripping gore.

Flax stood to one side, a number of the candidates slapping him on the shoulders in congratulations.

“What happened?” Talen asked.

“That big blond is a wonder,” one of the candidates said. “He caught the whoreson.”

“We were pressed,” another man said. “Commander Eresh came. He drew first blood.”

“Aye,” the first candidate said. “But that Flax, he was lightning! The dreadman bloodied us and was about to kill another when Flax caught him in the back. Spitted him like a pig. The dreadman turned to strike, but Flax pulled his sword out and hacked his head off. One blow, like he was slicing butter, and so fast you could hardly know he’d actually made the stroke.”

“Yes, and put him beyond our questions!” Eresh roared back.

The men silenced.

Commander Eresh stormed into the hall.

Flax glanced over at Talen and their eyes met. “So much for repairing relations, eh? And so much for curfew.”

Talen nodded at the headless dreadmen. “It was curfew for him though.”

Flax smiled wryly, the rain soaking his blond hair. “Yes, he took one too many risks.”

They followed the candidates out of the rain and into the hall. When they entered, Eresh commanded a number of lamps be lit and brought over. The attacker was laid out on the cobbled floor, his head placed on the stones beside him. Blood from his wounds and severed neck ran onto the stones and mixed with the water dripping from the men and their clothes.

Eresh knelt next to the man and pulled up his sleeves. The tattoos there were the same odd markings Talen had seen on the man in his dream. Eresh searched pockets and pouches. He sliced open the tunic with his knife to bare the man’s chest. Nothing. No necklace, purse, pendant. Only the weave of might around the man’s arm and a weave of tattoos over his body.

“What is he?” a candidate asked.

“A slayer,” Ke said from behind.

The men turned. Ke stood in the door holding up a dagger. He walked over and dropped the knife onto the table.

The knife had whorls etched into its curved blade.

Eresh raised his eyebrows and walked over to look down at the knife. “So it is,” he said.

Talen marveled. Slayers were dreadmen of the highest level. They fought in battles as no others could.

“Well, men,” said Eresh. “Tonight you have fought a dreadman I gauge to be of the fourth level at least. I hope it’s to your taste because I can guarantee you more will follow.”

Talen shook his head. A dreadman of the fourth! Few could survive such a multiplication of their Fire. However, he suspected the man chasing him had probably been the same. No wonder he was so quick, so strong. Then Talen thought of Ke, struggling with the dreadman, and holding his own. Ke had been stronger than that dreadman. He hadn’t been faster in a dead run, but he’d clearly had more might.

Talen looked at his brother with new eyes. Ke had bested a man of the fourth!

“Let us pray you all survive your quickening,” Eresh said. “Mokad has come. And for all our sakes they had better find an army here to meet them.”

* * *

Berosus looked over at Talen. This should have been an easy snatch, but it was clear the boy hadn’t drunk the drugged wine. Not enough of it, anyway. It annoyed Berosus that he’d lost Rosh. But there was no way he was going to let him fall into the hands of that Kish. At the same time, his death hadn’t been for naught. Berosus had seen how Eresh and Argoth looked at him. He knew they wouldn’t trust him until he’d proven his allegiance and worth.

Well, tonight’s display should convince them. They might not completely trust the Hand, but he had shown he was no friend of their enemy. As for Rosh, when the loose souls were collected in this land, Berosus would cut him out of the pack and reward him.

Berosus reached down and sliced a lock of hair from Rosh’s severed head with his knife. He kept remembrances of all his men. Then he took an ear in good sleth fashion. Finally, he slipped the weave from Rosh’s arm. As Rosh’s killer, it was his right to take the booty. He suspected Argoth would demand he turn it over, but he’d stand on principle, just as any man of the Hand would.

Berosus considered taking Talen now. But he needed to remain under cover until the plan was in place to capture them all.

One thing was clear: this rabble didn’t know what Talen was. You didn’t bunk such a one as he with common men. Of course, maybe they did know and wanted him to blend in. However, after tonight, they would know that wasn’t going to be possible. They would have to try to hide him somewhere else.

And that too was a bonus. It would make taking him all the simpler, which meant, in the long view, tonight’s raid had actually been a success.

18

Nilliam

ARGOTH STOOD UPON the tall wind tower in the northeast corner, looking out into the night. Shim stood next to him. The rain fell loudly upon the roof and blew in from the gaps between the roof and battlement, wetting the stone floor and Argoth’s legs.

Down in the great hall, Matiga and Eresh were already putting another group of candidates to the test. It would take more than two days to finish them all. Argoth prayed the ancestors they wouldn’t all break.

He looked out at the dark woods. There was no way they’d find any trace of the two slayers that escaped. Not with this rain. More than fifteen candidates had been wounded in tonight’s attack. Eight were dead. Another, he suspected, would not live to see the morning.

“How are we going to fight them?” Shim asked over the din of the rain.

“We’re not, remember? This is exactly why we’re breaking up. They caught us unaware. And they did it with some help.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and I both inspected the work done on the walls. There was no way anyone, even a dreadman as powerful as Ke, could scale them silently in the night.” Argoth picked up the rope he’d found hanging over the wall. “Our ship,” he said, “has rats.”

Shim looked down at the rope.

“This is how they got in.”

“Who was it?” Shim demanded.

“I don’t know,” said Argoth.

“They were targeting Talen,” Shim said, “weren’t they?”

“It appears so.”

“What is that boy?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think he’s safe staying with the troops.”

“Find a place then. We’re breaking up anyway. And put all the hammermen we know we can trust on alert. Tell them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. In the meantime, we’ll figure a way to flush the rats out.”

Argoth nodded.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” said Shim. “I’d rather face Slayers than another one of those grass and earth things you battled down in the caves.”

“Creators spare us,” said Argoth. “But I don’t think we’ll have to worry. I did get some insight as a thrall to Mokad. When I told the Skir Master Rubaloth about the creature Hunger, he was surprised. It was clear Mokad didn’t have that lore. If they did, I believe they would have already sent it against us.”

“Thank the Six,” said Shim. “We have our hands full with normal flesh and blood. And I have one particular flesh and blood woman that needs to be alerted. I want you to get a carriage and bring my wife in. I don’t think it’s safe for her to be visiting relatives any longer.”

“No, but will
you
be safe if you bring her in?” Argoth asked.

Shim smiled ruefully. “I’ll be a sight better with her than you are with your Serah.”

Serah, Argoth’s wife, was not happy with the lies he’d told her and the secret life he’d kept from her for all these years. But she could deal with lies and secrets. The problem was Nettle, his son. Saying that he was not doing well was an understatement. Half his mind was gone. And she blamed him, as was right, for his condition.

“I’ll send a carriage for her tonight,” said Argoth. “In fact, I think that will be the perfect ruse to smuggle Talen out.”

“Good,” said Shim. “And now I’m going down to submit myself to the Creek Widow. I’m not waiting another minute to be forced.”

* * *

Argoth knew Talen couldn’t just ride out in full view in daylight. He’d have to be smuggled out under the cover of darkness. For that, he’d need a carriage or wagon. But all the wagons in the fortress were full.

Shim was a practical commander and there was no room here for anything but what his army would use. But the village that stood close by would make up the lack. The tavern owner there hired out his carriage and wagon.

Argoth found Oaks and ordered him and his fist of men to join him. By the time they saddled their mounts, the storm had broken up. They rode to the village, the cold wind cutting through their clothes, the mud sucking at the horses’ hooves.

He found the village homes dark and quiet, but Argoth built his Fire nevertheless. There were two taverns for the soldiers. Argoth rode to the first and dismounted, but instead of calling to the house, he softly rapped on the shutters to the tavern owner’s bedroom around back. He rapped again.

“Who’s there?”

“Argoth.”

“Aye,” the innkeeper said. “A moment.” A minute later the tavern owner opened the back door and held his lamp aloft.

“Captain Argoth,” the man said too loudly.

Argoth motioned for him to speak quietly. “I need to be discrete. We don’t need a driver. Just the carriage and horse.”

“Goh, it’s a freezer tonight,” he said. “Can it wait until morning?”

“Quietly, man,” Argoth said. “It can’t wait. We’re fetching Lord Shim’s wife.”

The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why didn’t you say so right off? G’alls, we’ll have everything hitched and ready in a moment. Do you want to come in?”

“No,” said Argoth. “We can hitch the carriage. I just didn’t want you thinking Fir-Noy thieves were taking it.”

“I won’t hear of it,” the man whispered. Then he shouted into the house for his two sons to get up.

Argoth sighed. This tavern owner did not know the meaning of quiet.

By the time Oaks and a few of his men pushed the carriage out of the barn, the tavern owners’ two sons were dressed and hitching the team to the carriage. “I’ll have my Courage drive; he’s a good lad.”

“We’ve got a driver,” said Argoth, pushing a piece of silver into the man’s hand. It was more than what it should cost to rent a carriage and team and driver. “What I need is for you to prepare a breakfast. There will be at least ten people to feed when she arrives.”

The tavern owner rubbed the silver between his fingers. “Aye, we can do that.”

“We’re keeping this just between us,” Argoth said.

“Right,” the man said and touched the side of his nose with his finger. “I’m the very picture of a mouse.”

“Indeed,” said Argoth. By this time the team was hitched and one of the men sat up top as driver. The others mounted, and then the carriage and escort moved down the lane at the side of the tavern and out into the dark street. Argoth lingered behind and bid the tavern owner and his sons good night and saw them to their door. Then he turned back to his horse which was tied up by the barn.

He had just taken the reins and was going to mount when a man spoke from the deep shadows. “I heard the fighting at the fortress tonight.”

Argoth dropped the reigns, drew his sword, and spun. He flared his Fire.

The man stood under the eaves of the thick thatch roof. “I mean no harm. In fact, I bring good news.”

His accent was odd. There wasn’t much light, but the storm had passed by and allowed the slim moon to shine through. “Step out so I can see you,” said Argoth, pointing the tip of the sword at the man.

The man walked out of the shadows. He was a tall man. His beard was cut short and tidy. His clothes were fringed with tassels and decorations. Argoth did not need to see his tattoos to know where he came from.

“And what would I have to talk about with a man of Nilliam?” Argoth asked.

“An offer.”

“From whom?”

“From the Glory herself,” the man said.

The hackles stood up on Argoth’s neck. He glanced about him, looking for others, but couldn’t see anybody else. Argoth’s Fire flowed through him. He raised his sword.

“I come alone,” the man said. “Why would I want to threaten a potential ally?”

“Mokad has no love for Nilliam,” said Argoth.

“Ah, but you’re not of Mokad, are you? No, you are of the Grove, if I’m not mistaken. And such a Grove that it was able to slay a Skir Master that all the lords of Nilliam could not.”

“You do not know of what you speak,” said Argoth.

The wind whistled about the barn eaves.

“But I do. Let us not prevaricate. I am come to offer you, Argoth, root of the Order of Hismayas, the opportunity to rule in power.”

The man was guessing. He had to be. How could he know Argoth was a root of the Grove? “Lord Shim rules here.”

“Lord Shim is a distraction. Mokad seeks the fledgling Glory prepared to rule you. But why should you give him to Mokad, who offers you nothing? Deliver him to us. Deliver your kingdom to us, and you shall be made a ruler over it. You shall become one of those consecrated for greater things.”

Argoth did not know what powers this man had. But he knew he must be careful. “Do they teach the consecrated of Nilliam who really controls the Glories of the earth? Do they teach you that your masters are slaves to Devourers?

“It is the order of things. I have accepted it. As should you, because when you rebel against creation, you only follow Regret.”

“Is that the excrement parading about Nilliam as reason?” asked Argoth. He was waiting for the man to attack, but the man held his arms out.

“You don’t know what’s coming for you,” the man said.

“I think we have a good idea,” Argoth said. He didn’t drop his guard, but did lower his sword.

Somewhere in the village a door or shutter came loose and began to bang in the wind.

“No, you don’t. But I shall endeavor to explain. When Glories fight Glories on behalf of their Sublime—‘Devourers’ is such a vulgar word—they do so with restraint. Our masters have accords with one another, even if they bend at times. But, you see, you fight for no Glory. You are literally a wolf among the sheep. And so the forces which have been gathered against you are not coming to subdue or conquer, but to exterminate.”

“That’s obvious. Do you think the Grove is made up of babes?”

“When a wolf comes to a vale, all members of the vale turn out to hunt it, even if some are enemies. If Mokad will not remove you, then all the other Glorydoms will be bound to do so. If you’re lucky, you may win a battle or two against Mokad. But you will not beat the combined might the Sublimes will bring to bear. I give you a way out. Join with Nilliam. When you do, Mokad will have no claim. You’ll be ours then, and their coalition will unravel. Toth and Urz will both stand with Nilliam. Mokad will be forced to retreat. Our Glory is gentle and fair. You will prosper and grow fat.”

“You sicken me,” said Argoth.

“I have walked this land. There are sicknesses Divines can heal. Furthermore, the borders your last master established are gone. Haven’t you noticed?”

Argoth didn’t know what he was referring to.

“No,” said the man. “I see you haven’t. There are many creatures that would prey upon us—Fire, soul, and flesh. But our sublime masters keep them out. Their servants work on our behalf to keep us safe.”

Argoth thought of the creature in the river, of the village and the infestation of frights, of the wurms that had broken through the gap.

“You have no wisterwives. You have nothing to protect you now. The world outside will soon discover your lack of defense. And then you will beg for us to help.”

“Listen to me,” said Argoth. “We defeated one of your Sublimes down in her cave. We destroyed her monster. We do not fear you or any other goblin you might conjure.” He stepped closer and raised his sword again, holding the point only a few inches from the man’s chest. But the man seemed not to care.

“It can be a difficult thing for us to contemplate man’s position in the world. But perhaps the choice will be clearer if I bring it closer to home. Join us and you will not only spare many in this land, but you will be able to repair the damage you did to your own son.”

Nettle? How did he know about that?

“I don’t ask you to make a decision now,” said the man. “Just think on it. In the end you will see it’s wisdom’s path.”

The man took a step back.

Argoth did not follow.

The man took another step back. A moment later a huge gust of wind banged into the buildings behind Argoth. The wind howled down between the barn and the house and slammed into Argoth, knocking him a step forward. Wet leaves and debris pelted him, forcing him to squint.

And then he felt the wind go through him. Felt a chill along his bones. A chill he’d felt once before out on the Skir Master’s ship. Argoth gasped for breath.

And then the wind moved off. Argoth tensed for an attack, but the lord of Nilliam was gone.