Curse: The Dark God Book 2 (5 page)

“Black Knee and Sugar both knew our contingency plan,” River said. “They’ll make it back, or they won’t, but there’s nothing more for us to do here. Although I hate to leave Rooster’s and Shroud’s bodies behind.”

“Vengeance is what their spirits will want,” said Oaks. “We can get their bodies later.”

“Come on then,” River said to Talen. She held her hand out to help him up behind her on the horse.

Talen waved her off. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that horse. And he didn’t want to ride off and leave Sugar.

“Killing yourself won’t help her,” River said. “Come on.”

“I’m going to run,” Talen said, telling himself it was logical to leave Sugar and Black Knee to their own skills, but knowing it was betrayal.

“Talen,” River warned.

“Just go. I’ll keep up.”

And keep up he did, walking when the horses walked and running when they trotted. An hour or so later when they came to open country, River insisted he conserve his strength, so he climbed up behind her and rode, hating his coward’s heart and cursing his rotted desires.

It was early morning and still dark when they sneaked their way across the border between Shoka and Fir-Noy lands. Two hours later, in the early pre-dawn light, Talen jogged along the road that led to the fields surrounding Rogum’s Defense, the fortress where Uncle Argoth and Lord Shim had been training up their army of dreadmen. Trees rose on both sides. A few yellow autumn leaves littered the road. They were cool and moist with dew under Talen’s bare feet. Maybe Sugar
had
found her way back. Maybe she was here.

5

Visitors

ARGOTH, FIRST CAPTAIN of the Shoka clan, sat upon his horse in the middle of the main road running through the village of Rogum and watched the naked man up ahead in the morning light. Well, he wasn’t all naked; about his neck he wore a bright blue scarf. But the rest of him was bare and revealed a strong body that had been shaved all over. It was quite the sight. And not only was the man naked, but he was muttering, holding a herring out to a number of gulls, trying to coax them closer. The gulls, however, seemed more interested in pecking the remnants of last night’s Apple Dance festivities that still lay about the village square.

Shim, warlord of the Shoka, sat upon his own stallion next to Argoth. He said, “That’s a lovely picture. Do you think I could impress the ladies with a scarf like that?”

“They’ll be astounded, I’m sure,” said Argoth.

“I would place it a bit more strategically,” said Shim. “A woman wants mystery, Captain. A bit of the old hide and peek.”

“Indeed,” said Argoth. “I shall inscribe that into the annals of wisdom.”

“You doubt me?”

“Never, Lord.”

One of the black-headed gulls walked away from the rest of the noisy flock to eye the naked man and his herring. The bird walked with a bit of a limp and looked like it was missing one toe.

Two of Shim’s body guards rode with him today. Shim turned to the new guard behind him. “Armsman, you’re a middling to handsome man. Perhaps a bit more handsome than our Captain Argoth. So we’re going to run a small test. On our next feast night I want to see you in that.” He pointed at the naked man. “I’ll have Captain Argoth show up in more strategic wear.”

Shim was as hard a man as Argoth had ever met. He looked like he was made from boiled leather and revealed just as much in his expressions. And so when he said such things, people who didn’t know him had a difficult time determining whether he was serious or joking. This guard was new and looked at Shim with shock.

“What?” demanded Shim. “You don’t fancy ladies?”

“I,” the armsman stammered. “It will be done, Zu.”

“Indeed it will,” said Shim. Then he turned back around. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Argoth, the smallest hint of a grin betraying his intent.

All of Shim’s guards went through some hazing. Argoth had no doubt this new one had been prepared by the others to know that Shim was a hard and eccentric man who tested his men’s loyalty with odd demands, which meant this armsman would surely show up at the next feast night wearing nothing but a blue scarf about his neck.

Argoth smiled. Then up ahead the leader of the hammer of men guarding the village along with two other soldiers and a couple of men from the village marched up to the naked man. A number of the gulls startled, then, in a rush of flapping wings, the whole flock took flight, including the one brave bird the naked man had been courting.

The naked man watched in dismay as the birds wheeled around the square, then cursed. But he did not curse in Mokaddian. Argoth couldn’t see the man’s wrist tattoos clearly from this distance, but knew they were not those of any Mokaddian or Koramite. This was a foreigner.

Then the man turned, and Argoth saw the tattoos on his face and the brownish orange color of his eyes.

“What’s a Mungonite doing here?” Shim asked.

The hammerman approaching the man said, “See here. All foreigners need to have a token to travel these parts.”

The man ignored him.

“Mungo, I’m talking to you.”

The naked Mungonite watched the birds, and when they settled upon the gables of the inn, he struck out after them. The hammerman tried to block his way, but the naked Mungonite was quick, and he dodged past the soldiers and village men and ran for the inn.

“Stop him,” the lead guard called out.

Two other guards standing on the porch of the inn strode out toward the man.

But the Mugonite ran away to the side of the inn. He put the tail of the herring between his teeth, leapt to the seat of a wagon, up to the porch roof, then climbed up the face of the inn to the gables.

“He’s a squirrel,” Shim said.

“He’s something,” Argoth replied. And it wasn’t a squirrel. The man was a bit too fast. Too strong. “That’s not a drunken reveler who extended last night’s festivities. I think we’ve got ourselves another
visitor
.”

That was the code word that allowed them to mark a man as sleth without proclaiming it for all to hear.

When Shim had indicated he wanted to raise a kingdom of loremen on these shores, Argoth sent a call to all the Groves of Hismayas, asking them to join with them. He also sent word to groups that were not part of the Order of Hismayas. The problem was that not all loremen were as strict in their practice of the lore as others. Some crossed the line into abomination.

Argoth had known it would be a problem. And the issue had indeed raised its head as soon as the “visitors” had begun to trickle in. Not a week ago they’d had to hang one when he’d been caught stealing Fire from children. And so it was important that all visitors be identified and brought to Argoth and Matiga to be questioned before they caused a stir. Argoth had positioned men to catch them as they came off the docks. Obviously, this one had slipped through. But that wasn’t the only problem here. This was a Mungonite sleth, and Argoth had sent no message to any group in Mungo.

The soldiers stood back and watched the man, trying to figure out if someone should go up after him. Then one of them spotted two boys, one with a sling.

“Are you any good with that?” the hammerman asked the boy.

“Good enough for pins at thirty paces.”

“What about your friend?”

“Better than him,” the second boy said.

“Why don’t you give our friend on the roof a bit of motivation? No head shots. Maybe a sting in that hairless butt of his.”

The two boys looked at each other. Then they looked past the soldier at Shim.

“Go ahead,” Shim called.

The boys looked at each other again, then grinned. The first loosened a sling he’d tied around his waist as a belt. It was woven of dark hair. He slid the loop at one end over his middle finger, then held the knot on the other end in a pinch. He fetched a brown oval stone the size of a small egg out of a pouch tied at his waist and slipped the stone in the cradle. Then he stepped back a number of paces to get a decent angle.

Up on the roof the naked Mungonite muttered and approached the gulls with his fish.

The boy whirled the sling three times over his head and cast the stone. Not with all his might, but with enough to hurt. The stone flew up and over the roof a little to the left of the Mungonite, who paid it no mind at all. A moment later the stone smacked into a wooden roof beyond the inn and clattered to the ground.

“Ha,” the second boy said. “Stand back.” He whirled his sling a bit faster, this time the stone flew straight and struck the Mungonite in the side of his thigh.

The Mungonite turned and glared at the boys.

“Good slinging,” said Argoth to the boy. Then he yelled up at the Mungo. “Friend! Can you understand me? Come down.”

The Mungonite didn’t move.

By now a crowd of people were gathered to watch.

“Give him some more motivation,” Shim urged the boys.

The first boy whirled another stone. It was a straight shot, but the Mungonite snatched it right out of the air.

The second boy cast another stone. It was a bit faster than Argoth would have liked, but the Mungonite ducked, then threw the stone he’d caught at the boy.

The boy turned, tried to dodge, but the stone nailed him in the back with a solid thud.

He cried out.

Then the gulls scattered again, a number flying to the peak of the roof next to the inn.

The first boy slipped another stone into the cradle of his sling, but the Mungonite raced down the slope of the roof and leapt across the lane between the inn and its neighbor.

The distance between the two roofs was a good twelve feet, and a number of people in the crowd exclaimed their surprise with a chorus of ooh’s.

Then the Mungonite scrambled up the other roof.

This would not do. The man was clearly multiplied and not in his right mind.

“Bring him down,” Argoth said to the captain of the guard.

“Aye,” the man said and motioned to his men, sending some to circle around behind the roof where the Mungonite was.

“Come down,” the hammerman called. “Or we’ll start hitting you with blunts.”

The Mungonite ignored the captain and started in with his herring and muttering again, trying to coax the one bird with the missing toe closer.

The hammerman motioned to his men. Two of them strung their bows, then began a series of small pulls on the strings to waken the wood. A third soldier went into the inn and came back out with quiver of practice arrows.

The Mungonite crouched and held his herring out.

A few birds squawked and flapped back, but the one brave bird eyed the fish.

“Come down,” called the hammerman.

But the Mungonite ignored him.

The hammerman nodded to his men, and they withdrew a number of blunt tip practice arrows from the quiver.

The hammerman called to his men that had gone around back. “He’s going to come your way. Be ready.”

The soldiers nocked the arrows and drew their strings back. They were all using warbows with heavy pulls. The first loosed his arrow, and it shot forth with a velocity that was going to hurt.

But the Mungonite saw it at the last moment, twisted, and snatched the arrow.

The second solider loosed his shaft. It flashed up toward the man.

The Mungonite batted it away.

“Ho,” said Shim in appreciation.

A big man with long blond moustaches and plaid pants pushed himself off the wall of the inn where he’d been lounging. “Zu,” the man said, using the honorific. “You’ll not catch him that way.”

“Oh?” Shim asked.

The man wore a sword, gloves, and tall brown riding boots. He walked toward Shim and Argoth.

One of Shim’s bodyguards moved to block his way.

Argoth looked at the man’s wrists. His hands were covered with tattoos. Those who wore their tattoos from the wrists up were said to wear their honors on their arms. This man wore his honors on his hands, as was the custom of many of the coastal clans in Mokad.

“No,” the big blond said. “Blunts won’t do it. I know. I sailed with the blighter, and he was murder to fetch out of the rigging.”

His accent marked him as a mainlander.

“And who might you be?” asked Shim.

“Flax from Lem,” he said.

“Lem,” said Shim thinking. “That’s old country.”

“Yes,” he said. “My cousin Silver wrote me about the wonders of this place. I’ve come to join him. Maybe see if one of the clans will let me open up new land.”

Argoth perked up his ears. That statement was part of the code he’d written in his call to the Groves. In order to make more land arable, the clans would sometimes make an offer to any who would do the work. If they cleared the land, they could get the tenure on it as well as the first year’s rent. And so making such a claim wouldn’t seem unusual. The part that marked him as someone from a Grove or order was the cousin named Silver.

Shim knew the code as well. He said, “There are a lot of Silvers here. Which one were you referring to?”

“A hayward with the Vargon clan,” he said. His left hand hung nonchalantly down by his side, but it was held with the index and small finger pointing straight out, the other fingers and thumb in. It was the first sign and identified a man as a user of the forbidden lore. Of course, knowing the sign didn’t mean he was a fellow loreman. The Divines had their spies and infiltrators as well. This Flax could very easily be one of them. Only when he’d passed the other tests would they know.

Then the blond made the sign that identified him as part of the Hand of Mayhan. The men of the Hand were killers. Sleth of the darkest stripe that hunted down dreadmen and priests. In their long years as an order, they had even killed a handful of lesser Divines.

Argoth had sent no message to any in the Hand. All those in the Hand that he’d known personally had died or disappeared long ago. But that didn’t mean his message might not have been passed on.

Argoth eyed him warily. “I don’t know you, Zu,” he said.

“No, but there’s one of yours who can vouch for me, even though he might not like to do so.”

Argoth was going to ask who, but one of the soldiers shouted out, “Got him!”

Up on the roof the naked Mungonite glared, then turned back to the bird. The second soldier loosed his shaft. It too struck the man in the back and glanced off.

The man flinched, but crabbed a bit closer to the bird.

“That’s going to make a smart bruise,” Shim said.

The soldiers nocked more arrows. The Mungonite crabbed a bit closer to the bird, which eyed the fish. Then the Mungonite sprang forward and caught the bird in a great flapping of wings and loud squawks.

The solders raised their bows.

The Mungonite looked down at them, gritted his teeth, then ran down the far side of the roof.

The bowmen moved to get a clear shot, but the Mungonite jumped to the next roof, scrambled up to the top, ran to the back, and leapt to the roof of a barn.

The hammerman yelled to his soldiers to give chase.

The Mungonite ran to the end of the barn roof, jumped, flying out over a girl in a pea green frock who was leading a cow out to its pasture. It was an amazing leap. An inhuman leap.

He broke his fall with a roll, then was up in the blink of an eye, running for the woods.

The big blond said, “Even if your men catch up to that Mungonite priest, they’re going to have a time roping him. Our naked friend has
skills
.” He emphasized that last word. “It would be easiest if someone with equal
skill
went after him. Let me fetch him for you. We’ll call it a gift of good intent.”

A Mungo priest? If that were true, it would mean he wasn’t sleth. But if Mungo were going to send a spy, it would not have been a lunatic wearing nothing but a blue scarf about his neck.