Curse: The Dark God Book 2 (34 page)

Lords, how were they ever going to fight that? And the Mokaddians had two more like it still out over the bay.

She prepared to move back up the slope to her body when a man walked out into a field across the river close to the fortress. He held a horn in his hand. Sugar should have ignored him, but there was something about him, about that horn. The man brought the horn to his lips and blew.

The note sailed out clean and clear, and the part of the tattoo that was in the wrist of her soul moved. The skenning tightened around her arms. She startled and looked down at her wrist and the tattoo there. The man blew the horn again. Again her tattoo moved. This time joy filled her. It was like when she heard the horns announcing feast day. Or the fiddles striking up before a dance. She wanted to run to the sound. But the skenning moved again, covering the tattoo, and the desire subsided. The horn sounded again, but this time it was only a sound in the distance. She shook her head, and not for the first time wondered what they were doing sending her, a girl with no experience, out as a spy. She knew nothing and wished Withers was back with her body, giving her instruction.

A flock of orange skir that undulated flat and thin like huge leeches flew out over the field where the man stood. The blue urgom dove at them and chased them away. And then, from the trees at the edge of the wood, a man appeared.

No, not a man—the soul of a man. He walked out onto the field. Others appeared in the trees. On the rooftops of the houses on the streets below, another handful of souls appeared. The man in the field blew the horn again. The souls on the field began to run to him. Those on the rooftops leaped toward him from house to house. They were like children running to a juggler.

The orange skir evaded the blue urgom and dived toward those souls out on the field. But a number of men in spiked armor rushed out from the fortress. She recognized them from the description Withers had given her. They were Walkers, those that soulwalked for the Divines.

The Walkers rushed out onto the field brandishing their weapons at the orange skir. One of the creatures dove at a soul, but a Walker fought it off. Then the big blue urgom was there, and from a clump of hair a long whip struck out at one of the orange skir and knocked it to the ground. The blue urgom struck another orange skir.

More souls filtered out of the trees and from the streets, running to the Walkers. All her life Sugar had been told that the ancestors came for the souls of their fallen dead to protect them and escort them to safety. She did not see any ancestors.

Howlers bayed in the distance. The blue behemoth chased orange skir. One darted down and caught a soul and carried it away. The rest of the souls began to panic and ran to the field with the hornsman and the Walkers. A few souls held back by a house, but a Walker approached them with his spear and moved them along like a cowherd prods reluctant cows to join back with the herd.

More of the flock of orange skir tried to dart down and take a soul, but then the whole flock startled and fled, scattering like pigeons before a hawk. A moment later Sugar felt something behind her. She turned and scanned the field, the cliff’s edge, and the sea beyond. Suddenly, a large skir rose up over the precipice. It was followed by three others. They were not the beautiful blue of the urgom or the frightful sickly orange of the long flat skir. These were golden with bellies of hair that was long and dark.

They cruised over the field and hovered above the souls being herded into one big group. The souls of the fallen stood looking into the sky. The Walkers backed away.

The first golden skir snaked down a whip-like arm, snatching a soul and nestling it in the hairs of its belly. It whipped down another arm and took another soul. And then another arm and another until it seemed it was grabbing the souls with a dozen arms, nestling them in the long hairs of its belly.

The souls of the fallen did not run, did not move. The horn sounded yet again, and the other golden skir joined the first, their whip-arms plucking up the dead like a farmer picked pods of peas.They worked methodically. Two of the souls yelled in alarm and tried to flee, but it was too late. One skir snaked out a whip-like arm and wrapped it around the man’s leg before he could get away and lifted him aloft. Moments later another skir grabbed the second man’s soul by the waist.

Sugar was petrified. This couldn’t be right. Surely, this isn’t how it would end. All the stories of the life after death talked about the ancestors coming to gather their seed, protecting them. Her mind raced to make sense of what she was seeing.

Why weren’t the souls running? Her only guess was the horn. Somehow it had pacified them. Or maybe the Walkers had said something to them.

The skir picked up the last few souls and buried them in their grasping hairs. The souls hung from the bellies of the skir, wrapped in the long dark brown hairs, row upon terrible row like insects in a spider’s web. The sight revolted her. Then the skir rose and flew away toward the sea. A lone soul of a woman stood upon a rooftop watching the spectacle in shock. As one of the skir flew over, it snatched her up, trailing her along behind in its whip-like arm.

The skir flew out past the fortress, down to the shore, and out to a large Mokaddian death ship. One descended to the deck while the rest hovered above. Sugar couldn’t see clearly at such a distance, but she saw enough.

The Walkers hadn’t been sent by the ancestors. They were servants of Mokad. Servants of a Devourer. This wasn’t a reunion—it was a harvest! The souls of the dead were being taken to the ships, to be killed or transported to some terrible slaughter pen that was kept somewhere else. All those people going, not to the loving arms of their beloved dead, but to their end. To nothingness. To the bellies of their masters.

She thought about her mother and Da, their deaths. Had they been snatched up like this?

“Holy Six,” she prayed, unable to finish the thought.

“Sugar,” Argoth said. “We need to go.”

Across the river, the horn sounded again. She felt it tug at her wrist again. Felt something stir inside her. The skenning was protecting her, but she could still feel the horn calling.

A pack of howlers bayed close by, startling her. Sugar raced back to her body. She removed the skenning as fast as she could and slipped back into the comfort and security of her flesh. The horn pealed in the distance, calling to her, beckoning her, enticing her, compelling her to come. But she closed herself up tight in her flesh and shut out the sound.

38

Urban’s Warning

SUGAR AND THE OTHERS retreated in haste from the precipice that looked over the river and followed a wooded road to the south. Shim’s escort of two hammers rode horses. Some of Argoth’s men rode doubled-up with them, but Sugar and Urban’s crew ran, leading the wounded Lamborn along on a mule. All of them watched the sky for Mokad’s kitemen.

She could not get the horror of the souls coming to that field out of her mind. She could not unhear their cries. She could not unsee them wrapped in the living hairs on the bellies of the creatures that collected them.

A few miles later, Shim halted the group to let a handful of his men scout the road ahead. While they were waiting, Argoth asked her to report.

She told them what she’d seen in exact detail. “I think the horn calls to them,” she said. She held up her wrist and pointed at the tattoo. “There’s something here. I felt it leap to the call of that horn. Had I not been wearing the skenning, I believe I too would have gone to the field.”

The men about her looked at their own wrists.

Shim spat. “Skir masters. Their kitemen and winds—it’s all show. Their real pupose is to help with the slaughter.”

Argoth said, “We saw the Skir Master out on his ship with his priests and skirmen.”

“You know him by sight?”

“Aye,” Argoth said and motioned at his men. “We all marked him.”

“We’re not done,” Shim said. He turned to his men. “I want you to think about what you accomplished today. You killed two Divines, at the very least. We will kill more. A couple more Kains, a Skir Master. Five or six men. That’s all that stands between us and victory.”

Urban and Soddam glanced at each other, and Sugar thought they did not share Shim’s assessment.

Shim continued. “I don’t know where the ancestors were today, but it’s clear it’s time for the living to help the dead.”

Sugar thought about her parents. If Mokad wasn’t stopped, she was sure that evil horn would be taken to every hollow and plain in the New Lands, and if Mother and Da had not already made their journey, what protections would they have? They’d be as helpless against the call as those souls today, leaping across the rooftops to their doom.

One of the soldiers sent to watch their rear came running up the road and reported that a kiteman was winging their way.

“He’ll have a harder time finding us if we split up,” Urban said.

Shim agreed, and they broke up into their respective hammers and moved out. Sugar went with Urban. He’d lost five of his crew on the streets, and it looked like Lamborn would be next. The shaft had gone right into his gut, and gut wounds did not heal well. Lamborn told them to leave him, but Urban wouldn’t hear of it and ordered him to stay on his mule.

They burned their Fire and jogged, Sugar keeping them headed in the right direction. One man stayed some distance ahead to scout their way. Another lagged behind to watch their backs. Sugar had been multiplied for many hours now, and a burning thirst was upon her, and she wasn’t the only one. When they came to a brooklet, all of them rushed to the clear water. Some of the men fell to their knees and scooped up the water with their hands. She knelt at the bank next to Soddam on a carpet of bright autumn leaves that were soft with moisture and slurped straight from the cold, delicious flow.

When she’d had her fill, she sat back on her haunches and wiped her mouth.

A few moments later Soddam sat back and smiled at her. “You did well today.”

She shrugged. The loss of men and the horrors she’d seen didn’t make her feel like celebrating.

“How’s your Fire?”

“Steady,” she said. “It flared once, just after we exited the cave, but I brought it in control.”

He nodded. “I’m still thinking about you and those maulers in that workshop. That was steel, girl. Hard steel.”

“Only because I knew a fearsome sleth had my back. How is the hand?”

He held it up. The bandages were bloody, but it looked like the bleeding had stopped and dried. “I’ve had worse,” he said.

She thought about him on the roof, the seafire and the men screaming in pain below as they burned. The sights and smells of burning flesh and the stink of seafire pressed in on her mind and sickened her.

“You look troubled,” he said.

“I’m just thinking about those men we burned today. I know it was us or them, and the Divines have to go, but I just can’t shake the faces. I can’t shake the feeling I’ve done some horrible thing. Some of them were probably good men. Had children or lovers they were faithful to. And that one in the hallway . . .”

“It was gruesome,” Soddam agreed. “That’s for sure. But is it worse than what the Divines did to the souls out on that field? Those Kains were ugly as sin and deserved to die. So does that Skir Master.”

“Even when they’re enthralled?”

“Especially when they’re enthralled. Being a thrall does not excuse their actions. Think about what they’re doing. The only way to stop them is to kill them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, “although it doesn’t feel any better.”

He reached out and smoothed her hair, looping it behind her ear, and looked at her with his slit-iris eyes. “I have a daughter like you: all heart.” He was about to say more, but a look of pain flickered across his face, and he drew his hand away and looked to the side.

“You knew my mother from before,” Sugar said.

“Aye,” he said tossing a yellow leaf onto the water. “She was a fiery thing.”

“Was she in this crew?”

He laughed wryly. “Now, that would have been the sight. Her submitting to the likes of Urban. No, but she did help train him. She was a grand woman, open-hearted, destined for great things. I’m very sorry to hear how she died.”

Sugar wanted to hear more about what Soddam knew of her, but Urban approached. “It’s time to move,” he said and held some dreadman biscuits out to them.

Soddam took a few biscuits and rose. “I’ll take point,” he said.

Urban nodded.

Soddam turned Sugar. “We’ll talk later,” he said, then headed down the road.

Sugar accepted a biscuit and dipped it in the water to soften it a bit. “I wonder how much of our futures we’ve consumed with our Fire. It’s a strange thing knowing you’re hastening your end.”

Urban shrugged. “I tend to think it’s what you spend your days upon that matters. Not necessarily how many of them you have left. Those that forget that are the ones that go awry.”

Sugar pulled her biscuit out of the water. Dreadman biscuits were made with honey and fine milled flour and salt. Sometimes the bakers would mix in seeds. She bit down on this one and began to munch.

She said, “Soddam seemed quite distressed a moment ago.”

“About what?”

“His daughter.”

Urban nodded. “The sight of you probably causes him pain.”

“But why should that distress him? Has he been away from them long?”

“They’re dead. His wife, daughters, all of them butchered.”

“Oh,” Sugar groaned in sympathy.

“It would be nice if the world were neat and tidy,” he said. “Clean sheets, clean beds, pretty flowers. But it’s not.”

“He talked as if his daughter was still alive.”

“Let me ask you something. There are some who join the Grove and lose their way. They make a mistake. What happens to them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Your mother was one such.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swallowed and took another bite of her biscuit.

“The Order has its discipline.”

“Well, there are rules.”

“Do you agree with them?”

“The lore is not something to be trifled with. I suppose it’s necessary.”

“Is it? Were they right to mark your mother for death?”

“She wasn’t marked,” said Sugar.

“Have you asked Argoth and Matiga? Did you think it was chance your mother was so sick after your encounter with the Devourer and the others were not? I would wager they decided on poison.”

“It’s not like that,” she said. “She’d been pierced through by arrows, and who knows what the Devourer did to her.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.”

“There’s a difference,” Sugar said, “between someone who makes a mistake and turns away from it and one who turns toward the sin with appetite.”

“How right you are,” he said. “But the Order doesn’t see it that way. It culls any member who has sinned against the light. It’s to preserve the rest of them, they say.”

Sugar didn’t know how to respond to that. This was the first Sugar had ever heard of this.

“Soddam made a mistake long ago,” Urban continued. “He lost his daughters and his wife for it. He suffered for his crime, but the Grove sent me to hunt him down. They always sent me. I found him living on roots and insects, haunting his wife’s grave. He looked like an animal, but he was a man, with a man’s heart, who made one mistake. It was very clear to see.”

“So they listened to you and spared him?”

Urban shook his head. “If only it were that easy. I decided not to carry out the orders they’d given me. They didn’t know about it, or they would have sent another. But it wasn’t the first time I’d chosen not to carry out their orders. And by the time they found out, it was too late.”

“You think the Order is wrong.”

“I think the Order has strayed a bit. Not all who sin deserve to die.”

“But surely some do. It sounds like you just have a different measuring stick to determine who that is. And what says yours is the right measure?”

“That’s the question,” he said. “That’s the very heart of the matter.”

She suddenly wondered how many sleth he’d saved. “How big is your crew?” she asked.

“As big as it needs to be,” he said.

She thought about Withers and Soddam and the fact that Argoth had asked them to make their quarters outside the fortress. “You seek them out, don’t you? You seek out the fallen.”

“We rescue those we can.”

She thought about that and wondered what had started him on this path, wondered if he himself had fallen and some Grove had put a bounty on his head. Then her mind turned back to what he had said. Had Matiga and Argoth really ordered her mother’s death?

“Soddam said my mother trained you.”

“She was part of my father’s Grove.” He smiled, reminiscing. “I think we were all in love with her. And not just because of her looks. When everyone else in our Grove had determined to kill my brother, your mother spoke out against it. She went tooth and nail against my father.”

“Your brother?”

“My father killed him. Oh, he wept a river, but he killed him all the same. I vowed on that day never to bind myself in a similar manner.”

Sugar was speechless. She couldn’t imagine what that would have been like. She could no more kill Legs, or imagine Mother doing it, than she could fly to the moon.

“Soddam was once like your mother,” said Urban, “all fire and life. I hope one day he becomes that man again.”

Sugar’s mind whirled. Had Zu Argoth poisoned her mother? Is that why she had died when everyone else had survived?

They left the stream and followed the path Soddam had taken. As they ran, Sugar thought about Urban’s words. About a mile later they came to a hill that gave a wide view of the bay.

Up ahead, Soddam had stopped to wait for them.

“I thought you were on point,” Urban said.

“I sent Sniff ahead.” Then he pointed out at the water. Ships stretched out for miles. Dozens upon dozens of fighting and cargo ships, all making their way to the Blue Towers harbor. Sugar had never seen so many ships.

“How many do you calculate?” Urban asked.

“I’m thinking an army of forty to sixty thousand.”

Urban looked out at the ships, shook his head, and blew out a sigh.

“They already had a few thousand dreadmen coming to dock when we were there,” Soddam said.

“And a full ship of priests, skirmen, and lesser Divines with the Skir Master,” said Urban. “And Kains, and eyes in the skies, and who knows what else.”

“And look there,” Soddam said and pointed, “out past the big ship with the striped sail. Those are from Toth, which means there are more of those blighted dogmen out there.”

Urban turned to Sugar. “What do you think about Shim’s odds?”

Shim’s army had about six thousand men in it. A few terrors of dreadmen.“We’re outnumbered almost ten to one.”

“More than that with the Skir Master and his crew,” said Urban. “It’s going to be a slaughter.”

“But commander Eresh’s strategy,” Sugar said. “That’s exactly why we’re breaking up, to avoid a slaughter. We’ll hide. We’ll strike as we can.”

Urban said, “They’re going to raze every Shoka village. How long before Lord Shim’s own people give him up?”

“All we have to do is take out the Divines.”

Urban smiled. “Just like that, eh? With sixty thousand troops surrounding them, and every last one of them alert to our intentions now.”

It had to be possible. There had to be some way to sneak a hammer or two of dreadmen in.

Urban shook his head. “I truly wanted this to work.”

“We can still do it,” Sugar said.

“So says the great warlord Sugar.” Urban’s eyes took on a gentle look. “It’s important we face the facts. Not what we hope and wish might occur. Impossible odds are for fools; and you don’t want to be gambling with the lives of thousands. I’ve seen my fair share of battles,” Urban said. “This one is not going to end well.”

“Lord Shim—”

“Lord Shim is noble. He’s brave. But this is now nothing more than a glorious dream. The opportunity to build an army here has passed.”

“What are you suggesting?” she asked.

“Do you remember our discussion of an exit?”

“You’re just going to leave?”

“I’m surviving. It’s what I do.”

“You’re abandoning us.”

“I will not waste my men,” said Urban. “They have put their lives in my hands. Think about what’s going to happen when Mokad sends its thousands into Shoka territory to rape and pillage. Think about that horn and what’s going to happen to you and Legs and everyone else they slaughter. And I haven’t even started with the Bone Faces.”

“I can’t leave my friends.”