Raveler: The Dark God Book 3
Read Raveler: The Dark God Book 3 Online
Authors: John D. Brown
Tags: #Teen & Young Adult, #coming of age, #dark, #Fantasy, #sword & sorcery, #epic fantasy, #action & adventure, #magic & wizards
THE WAR WITH MOKAD BEGINS!
Harnock leaned in close and sniffed. Then he dragged his rough tongue up Talen’s cheek, and the smell of Harnock’s soul mixed with the odor of fish on his breath.
“Not nearly enough fat,” Harnock said, “but you’ll hang and ripen nicely.”
“We need help,” Talen pleaded.
“I don’t help thralls,” Harnock said. “I kill them.”
For Nellie
Contents
1
House of Bones
TALEN WOKE ON the stone floor of a small, dark shed that smelled of blood and hanging meat. His ankles and wrists were lashed together. His head pounded like someone had been at it with a mallet.
He brought his bound hands up and felt for damage. One side of his head was tender, but there wasn’t any blood. Nor was the bone broken underneath. So he still had his brains, the little good they did him.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position against one of the walls and felt a stab of pain shoot down his left side. Then the image of River on the forest floor came to him. Grief welled up again. Tears sprang to his eyes. He sat for some time thinking of her and the creature he’d tried to protect her from.
He knew that beast wasn’t a woodikin. It was far too tall. And no woodikin he’d ever heard of built sheds. They lived in great trees or burrowed in the ground. Which meant the creature had to be Harnock. Or was it something else that lived in the Wilds?
Either way, he had to get out of this shed. He had to find her. He explored the darkness and found the skinned and headless carcass of a large animal hanging by its hind quarters on the other side. He ran his bound hands along its length, felt the hooves at the top, and confirmed it was a deer. The carcass explained the smell. It also suggested exactly what was going to happen to Talen in the not too distant future.
The image of his own carcass skinned and hanging next to the deer’s set his heart beating a little faster. There had to be a way out of here. He felt his way to a door and carefully tried it, but it was barred from the outside. He pushed harder. The door gave just a little, but the bar was solid and held fast. Maybe there was a window. He felt about for one, but the shed was wattle and daub from top to bottom. And it was thick wattle, which meant it wasn’t going to be an easy thing to kick through. The floor was made out of slabs of stone cemented together with mortar. Such a floor was a good defense against animals wanting to dig their way in. It was also good against young men with nothing but their fingernails to use as pry bars.
The beating of Talen’s heart kicked up a notch.
He took a breath to calm himself and realized that even if he did get out, he wouldn’t be running far with his ankles and wrists bound. So he went to work on the lashing around his wrists, picking and pulling with his teeth. The knots were tight, but they weren’t impossible, and he finally succeeded in loosening one of them. It took only a few minutes longer to defeat the lash completely and wriggle his swollen hands free. He rubbed them, then went to work on the lashings around his ankles. When his legs were free, he stood, and realized that not only was it quite possible he’d missed something feeling about in the dark, but also that he had the eyes to see despite the blackness about him.
He concentrated and tried to separate the part of himself he’d used to attack River and escape the dreadmen, but his other part eluded him. He thought back to when he was by the dreadmen’s campfire, tried to remember what he’d done, and felt for that part of himself again. This time he felt the odd shift, and a part of himself detached. A moment later the interior of the shed revealed itself in a dim yellow light. And then, to his surprise, two more parts of himself joined the first.
He suddenly perceived the shed from three different angles, and the competing views disoriented him, made him dizzy.
He let out a cry and pulled his parts back in and was once again plunged into darkness.
Regrets eyes! What kind of a freak was he?
He felt a panic rising inside, then told himself that running about like a chicken wouldn’t do anyone any good. Whatever his affliction, it wouldn’t go away by him setting his hair on fire. Besides, his freakish parts had allowed him to escape Nashrud and those dreadmen. Whatever he was becoming, he would deal with it later. Right now he needed to see.
He calmed his breathing, sent his parts back out. Again, the dizzying view of the yellow world rushed upon him, but this time he tried to relax. When he did, he realized he could focus on the view seen by just one of these parts. It was like bringing your thumb up in front of you and switching your gaze between it, something a few feet away, and a scene in the distance beyond—when focusing on one of the views, the others faded into his periphery.
Talen settled on the view closest to his body and gazed at the other two parts of himself. They were long and eel-like. They reminded him, to his horror, of the shining eel-like creatures that had surrounded the Mother down in her cave. Then his anger rose, and he told himself he didn’t rotting care what they were or what he was. If some cursed creature had twisted him, he would use that power to his advantage. He could see in the darkness with these things. Could attack and spy. In time, he might be able to do more.
He looked about the shed and saw nothing that would help him dig through the floor. Saw no easy way through the roof. So it was back to the door. It had given a little; maybe he could force it. If he was multiplied, he was sure he could.
Talen prepared to multiply himself, then remembered the king’s collar about his neck. He yanked on it, tried to break it by brute force, but the metal was strong and resisted him. He thought a moment. Maybe the weave could be broken by Fire. After all, that’s how he’d destroyed the monster in the cave. He tried to multiply himself, to pour forth a flood of Fire, but the surge only flowed away from him. He tried again, but it was like trying to hold the wind in your hand, and it was clear that if there was a lore for breaking the bond, this wasn’t it. He’d have to break the door down unaided.
However, it would do little good to start banging around with his captor right outside, so he held still and listened for what might be there. He stilled his breathing, focused on sound, and heard nothing outside the shed.
After a few minutes, he decided there was no reason to delay further. He tested the door again, then shoved it hard with his shoulder. He thought he felt it give just a little, and his hopes rose. He shoved again, but failed to move it more. He squared himself to the door and kicked it as hard as he could, and the thinnest of cracks of light appeared around the side and bottom. He kicked again and saw the cracks of light widen.
He pulled himself up and prepared to kick one more time with all his might when the bar scraped up and the door flew open. The creature that had throttled him in the piney wood stood there, the sun silhouetting its massive frame.
The light rushed in and gave Talen a fourth pair of eyes—the eyes of his three roaming parts and the eyes of his flesh. The quadruple vision turned everything into a terrifying sight. In reflex, Talen struck at the beast with his roamlings.
And with that strike, the scent of the creature’s soul shot through Talen, and his hunger for it sharpened. The creature smelled delicious.
The creature snarled and bared its fangs. “That tells the whole story,” it growled.
It was the height and build of a tall man. Its body was covered in a short-haired fur that lightened toward its belly and loins but darkened and lengthened along its back and legs. As for clothing, it wore nothing but a loincloth below and a cord around its neck above. A small bone that looked like it belonged to a human finger hung from the cord. Above the cord, its face was strange, feline with a nose that was a little too broad. And seeing all of this in the yellow and blue worlds at the same time made it even stranger.
Talen stepped back into the wall behind him. His roamlings prepared to attack. The scent of soul was right there in reach. “Please,” he said. “I’m a friend.”
“Who are you?” the creature snarled. “Who sent you?”
This had to be Harnock.
“Speak!” it shouted and grabbed Talen’s face. Its hand was strong, its claws sharp. And its touch only intensified the smell of its soul.
“Harnock,” Talen said.
The creature slammed Talen’s head into the wall. “Answer my question!” it growled.
“River,” Talen said in alarm. “She wanted to ask for your aid. She brought us here. I’m part of the Grove. I’m her brother.”
“You weren’t with any Grove,” it said. “You were with Mokad.” Its claws dug into Talen’s cheek.
“No,” Talen said. “The dreadmen poisoned River. They took me.”
Harnock leaned in close and sniffed. Then he dragged his rough tongue up Talen’s cheek, and the smell of Harnock’s soul mixed with the odor of fish on his breath.
“Not nearly enough fat,” Harnock said, “but you’ll hang and ripen nicely.”
“We need help,” Talen pleaded.
“I don’t help thralls,” Harnock said. “I kill them.” He leaned in close to Talen’s ear. “Do you hear me? Send who you will, they’ll all meet the same fate. I will not be taken.”
“I didn’t send anybody; I’m not a thrall.”
“I’m not talking to you,” Harnock said, then he turned Talen’s head to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to worry anymore, brother. I know how it is, being on their tether. It’s no life at all. Which is why I’m going to set you free.” Then he forced Talen around and shoved him up against the wall. With one hand he grabbed Talen by the hair and pulled his head back to expose his throat.
“Travel safely,” Harnock said.
“No,” Talen said.
Harnock drew his knife.
Talen tried to twist free, but it was like trying to pull free of iron fetters. “Harnock!” he cried.
“Quiet,” Harnock said and raised the knife.
Talen’s panic rose, and he lashed out, striking Harnock with all three roamlings, looking for a way to bite into his soul.
Harnock flinched. “Oh, but they’ve turned you into a vile thing,” he growled, then slammed Talen into the wall again.
“No!” Talen shouted. He struck again with his roamlings, but Harnock just gritted his teeth, hunched his shoulders against the attack, and brought his knife to Talen’s throat.
At that moment, a cabbage flew through the open door, struck Harnock in the head, and thumped to the floor.
Another flew in and struck Harnock in the shoulder.
Harnock turned and snarled, his knife still at Talen’s throat.
“Harnock!” a woman yelled.
Cabbages? Talen surely must be dreaming. Which meant the situation would probably soon shift, and he’d be listening to a group of singing pigs or standing naked and mortified in some impossible public situation.
“Let him be!” the woman commanded.
That voice—
“I know a creature of the Divines when I smell one,” Harnock said, “and this one has their filthy fingers all over him.”
“He’s our weapon,” said the woman. “Not theirs. Let him go!”
“He will never be our weapon. He’s designed for their hand, just as I am.”
“River?” Talen asked, not daring to hope.
He turned his head to see out the door. River stood outside the shed, holding a formidable turnip. She cocked her arm.
It was impossible! “River!” Talen shouted.
“Release him!” River commanded. “You’re better than this.”
Harnock wrinkled his broad, catlike nose. He growled in frustration, pressed the knife closer, and for a moment Talen thought Harnock was going to pull it across and slice through.
Then Harnock pulled the knife away and spun Talen around so they were standing nose to nose. “You try to enter me again,” he growled, his breath still thick with fish, “and I’ll gut you and string your innards out for the crows.” Then he gave Talen a shove that sent him reeling into the hanging deer and strode out of the meat shed.
Talen detangled himself from the deer and turned.
Outside, Harnock stormed past River. “Sooner or later he’s going to need killing,” he called back. “Better to get it over with now.” Then he crossed the yard and entered his house.
Talen rushed to the door. “You were dead!” he said. “I myself felt for your pulse. There was no breath.”
“No,” said River.
The lurid vision of both the yellow and blue worlds together sent a wave of dizziness over him, so he pulled his roamlings back. They retreated through his wrists, and suddenly the multiple views of the yellow world winked out, and the scene became normal again. And there stood River in the blue world, a bit pale, but looking far better than the last time he’d seen her. He thought he’d known how much he valued her when she died. But the joy of seeing her now went beyond even that clear insight. He ran to her, hugged her tight, pulled her off her feet, and swung her around.
Underneath it all was the smell of her soul and his desire, but he ignored it.
“Careful,” she said.
He put her down. “How?”
“Harnock found me,” she said. “He brought me here and revived me.”
“From the dead? He brought you back from the dead?” It was astonishing. “Did you see anything? Lords, was Da there?”
“He didn’t revive me from the dead,” River explained. “I never died. There was still breath and pulse in me, but very slow. Exceedingly slow. I told you I was diminishing.”
“Well, yes, but there was nothing there. Why didn’t you respond to me?”
“Just as you can multiply your Fire and powers to the very brink, so you can diminish them until the Fire is but an ember, almost a memory. I had to go that far to slow the workings of the poison. But when you do that, you go into a place that’s difficult to leave. Harnock found me and called me back.”
“Then bless him,” Talen said. He turned to the open door of Harnock’s house and raised his voice. “Bless you!” he called.
“I’m thirsty,” River said. “And I’m not quite a hundred percent. Give me your arm.”
Talen did not want the desire that came with the touch, but he stuck his elbow out anyway. She took it and kept her balance. Then he helped her over to a well that stood in the yard. He tried to focus on the bucket and well instead of his hunger for her soul. It was a relief when she let him go. He dropped the bucket, let it sink and fill, then cranked it back up. While she drank, he looked about the little farm.
It was small and tidy in Koramite style. It lay in a small clearing. There was a main house, a few outbuildings, including a small stone shrine for the dead with flowering vines that had grown up the sides and were blooming white. Across the way stood a garden with a high fence to keep deer out. Next to it were some goats in a pen. Talen had expected a larger garden, but perhaps Harnock was more lion than man and just needed meat.