Raveler: The Dark God Book 3 (33 page)

Argoth shoved harder, felt the sword slide through Flax, then meet resistance as it punctured the coat and mail on the front and came out the front of Flax’s belly just under his rib cage.

Flax roared and backhanded Argoth, but a good portion of his core muscles had been cut, and the former power wasn’t in the blow. Flax staggered a step. A soldier by Eresh rushed forward with an axe and swung at Flax’s head.

Flax turned to avoid the blow and was struck high on the back of the shoulder. The axe didn’t break through his armor, but did send him crashing to the wall walk where he gasped with pain. He struggled to roll over onto his hands and knees.

“Give me a sword!” Eresh cried. “This one won’t die until his head is severed.”

Flax tore the sword from his back, then rose, impossibly, onto his feet.

The Shimsman behind Eresh placed a sword in his hand. “Filth!” Eresh roared and charged.

But Flax did not meet Eresh’s attack. Instead he cast himself over the wall.

“Get him,” Eresh said.

But a clamor rose from a number of Shimsmen on the wall. “The blackness!” a soldier yelled.

Out on the river, a number of Bone Face ships bore down on the Mokaddian vessels. Down at the mouth of the river were dozens of other Bone Face ships. Gathering above them, spreading out like a thunderhead, was a roiling blackness. The same blackness that had been at Fishing.

Argoth looked over the wall, but couldn’t see Flax.

“The river!” another man called.

“Gods,” Eresh said. “Argoth.”

Argoth looked up and peered across the field. Something huge broke the surface of the river and swam toward the shore by the Skir Master. The leviathan beached itself, opened its mouth and disgorged something onto the rocky bank, then retreated back into the water.

The thing it spewed upon the shore moved. Then it unfolded itself and stood.

“A Kragow?” Eresh asked.

But it was too tall to be a man, too oddly proportioned.

“Filth and rot,” Argoth said, his jaw paining him.

At that moment two more leviathans approached. They rose from the river onto the bank. They too gaped their mouths wide and deposited two similar creatures on the land.

“What in the Six are those?” Eresh asked.

Argoth had seen all three before. Even at this distance, he recognized them. There had been eight others down in the cavern when the battle was over. They were all different, but all clearly fashioned by the same hand. They’d been lying in the dust, waiting to be awakened. After examining them, Argoth had insisted they be sunk into the sea. But here they were, fresh from the deep.

And there would be no stopping them.

“That thing we killed down in the Devourer’s cavern,” Argoth said. “It appears its brothers have a new master.”

Eresh shook his head. “Are we to fight Regret himself next?”

Mokad’s war horns sounded, ordering its troops to turn, but Argoth knew that would do them no good.

“We need to get out of this place,” he said. “Is the path opened?”

“The path is ready,” Eresh said.

“Get the men organized!”

“After I finish our fine friend,” Eresh said. He turned and looked over the wall.

But Flax was gone.

* * *

Sugar jabbed at a howler in front of her, then had to take a step back as another howler lunged for her.

The fire along the bones of her flesh burned, and she gritted her teeth against it.

“Sugar,” Charge called. “Where now?”

“We’ve got to get across the river!” she shouted back, but the howlers had cut them off from that escape. At one time the river had run very close to the fort, but the river bed had shifted a bit farther up the canyon, and so she and the other souls were being backed up over old river stones into a corner of the cliff face and the wall of the fort.

A soul struck out at a howler, missed, and another howler flew at him, pulling him down. There were now only nine souls with weapons guarding the hundreds behind. If a few more fell, they would be overwhelmed.

A howler appeared on top of the fortress wall, and the souls behind her moved to avoid it.

If they allowed themselves to be cornered, they would be vulnerable to the horn. They had to make a run for it.

Charge stabbed at a howler and danced back.

“We need to get the souls across the river,” she said. “We need to push the howlers back.”

“We’ll lose some,” Charge said.

“We’ll lose them all if we don’t,” she said. Another wave of pain coursed through her, and she stumbled.

A howler lunged at her, but Charge slashed down with his soul spear, and cut the beast. It cried out and pulled back.

“We’ve got to do it now,” she said.

But then a troop of spiked Walkers appeared on the slope of the bank leading to the river bed. There had to be a full hammer of them.

Another howler ran along the top of the fortress wall, slavering. More appeared behind the Walkers.

A number of souls rushed at the howlers, trying to get to the river. The howlers bit. Other souls ran past, but then the Walkers rushed down to the river bed and cut off the escape, spearing a number of souls, until the men fell back.

“I think our opportunity to run just sailed out of port,” Charge said.

Another howler appeared on the wall.

“They’re going to jump,” Charge said.

“We’ll fight them to the last,” she said, knowing this was the end. The utter end. She would not see her parents in brightness. She would not see Legs. She would not be gathered with those that had gone before.

“For mankind,” she said.

“For mankind,” Charge agreed.

The howlers growled and moved forward. Sugar prepared to fight, but another wave of pain washed through her and stole her strength.

“Kill them!” a Walker cried.

The Walkers lowered their spears. The howlers moved forward.

Then a horn sounded.

But it was not the horn that had been blown before. Nor was it the roar of an urgom. It was high and sweet.

She and the other souls looked around.

The horn sounded again, reverberating off the rock walls. It was coming from the other side of the river, farther up the canyon.

A number of howlers turned. The horn sounded again, and a commotion rose in the woods on the other side of the river. Something was coming.

The Walkers stopped their advance, looked questioningly at each other.

Then a number of souls clad in whites and grays poured out of the trees. They were wearing skennings. They were holding blackspine and other weapons.

The horn sounded again now, loud and clear. And the skenning-clad souls rushed down to the water.

The Walkers began to back away from the river. The howlers barked, but moved back with them.

“The ancestors,” a soul said in wonder.

“The ancestors!” another cried.

The skenning-clad souls roared and charged out over the river. There had to be more than a hundred of them, and still more poured out of the trees. Among them were the souls of other beasts.

Sugar’s spirits soared. The ancestors hadn’t vanished. They were not abandoned! Maybe Mother and Da were there!

Then another wave of pain wracked her and sent her soul to its knees. This time the pain tore at the core of her being. She heard shouting, heard savage growls, saw the rush of souls about her, but she could not tell what was happening because the pain stole all thought from her mind.

“Lords,” she gasped.

She concentrated. “Soddam,” she said with the mouth of her flesh. “Did you get Legs? Soddam!”

But she did not hear his answer.

31

Old Enemies

THE PAIN IN ARGOTH’S broken jaw beat at him, so he ripped off a length of his surcoat and tied it around his head to keep every movement from jarring him. It would have to suffice until later.

He looked for Flax, but could not see where he went, and he didn’t have time to search. He didn’t want this army anywhere near the blackness spreading out over the plain. Nor those creatures the behemoths had deposited onto the bank of the river.

Mokad’s army had retreated back onto the field out of the shot of the firelances and back from the bows. They revealed a field littered with scorched and pin-cushioned men, a number still burning with seafire. The stink of burning flesh and seafire filled Argoth’s nostrils. The moans of the wounded sounded in his ears.

He estimated there were somewhere around four thousand soldiers still alive in Shim’s army. The bulk of the horses had swum the river, so the men couldn’t simply mount and try to burst through Mokad’s lines and gallop south.

“Where’s Shim?” he asked Eresh, trying not to move his mouth.

“He’s wounded. They’ve got him at the back.”

“Let’s get these men out of here.”

Four thousand was a lot of people to keep organized and keep from breaking ranks. A column that big could stretch half a mile. There were a number of reasons why soldiers practiced marching, but one of them was to learn how to keep such a long line moving smoothly. The last thing they needed was for them to panic and trample one another or spread too far apart and open themselves to attack.

Eresh shouted orders. Mokad’s army could charge again at any moment. So he ordered terrors to defend the gate and breach in the wall. The rest he ordered back.

The men cut tokens of hair or cloth from their dead comrades, tied whatever supplies they could to their walking poles, and began to move to the back, forming a big crowded queue.

In front of the fort, the mad skir wind was gone. Down by the river, Mokad blew its battle horns. There were shouts along the ranks of Mokad’s army on the field, then the cohorts of Mokad, Nilliam, and Urz turned and began to rush to the aid of those at the river, leaving only about a thousand of Mokad’s troops behind as a rearguard. The rearguard’s mounted leader was riding along the line, shouting something, but he did not order his men to engage.

Across the field, an earthen monster ran toward the Skir Master. A stone giant launched a large stone. A skir caught it, banked. The large stone was carried up more than three hundred feet into the sky, and then it turned. The stone slashed down and struck the creature in the chest with massive velocity; the sound of the collision cracked across the field. The monster slammed into the earth in a cloud of dust.

A beat passed.

Then the creature stirred. A moment later, it climbed to stand on its hind legs. A chunk of its torso had been knocked away. It felt the gap, looked back up, and continued forward.

Argoth marveled at the power of these things. Shim’s troops had to get out of here. They had to get out now.

The Bone Face ships continued to move forward up the river. The dark mists came with them, stretching out over the land. Something black and angular flew out of the mists and plummeted at the Skir Master. The soldiers around him shot at it with bows, and it swooped away back into the mists.

In the fort, Shim’s troops continued to move into the chamber at the back, up the stairs, then out into the slot canyon.

About a quarter mile upstream from where the Mokaddian Skir Master stood, the river bent closer to the fort. A clamor of shouts and cries of pain arose from that direction. Moments later a number of Mokaddian soldiers came pouring out of the trees in a wild retreat, running like panicked hares. Behind them an earthen creature stepped onto the battle field.

It stood eight feet at the shoulder. It was exceedingly broad through the chest. Its head looked like it was made of upturned roots.

A dogman and two maulers raced to attack the monster, but the monster grabbed the dogman by the throat, throttled him, and cast him aside in a heap. One mauler attacked the monster’s leg. The second grabbed onto its hand. The monster crushed the jaw of the one that bit its hand, then struck the other massive beast dead with one blow to its head.

A number of Mokad’s archers shot at the creature. Some arrows sank in, some glanced off the stone. The monster paid them no mind. It surveyed the battlefield. Looked down at the fighting around the Skir Master, then looked over at the fort. It gaped open its mouth two, three times like some great fish, then began to lumber toward the fort.

There were still a great number of men waiting to get out. And that creature would slaughter them. There was no way Argoth could destroy the creature, but he just might be able to do something else.

A few of the horses that had been taken into the fort had not been hurt. Argoth’s stallion was among them because he’d been taken back to the chamber. Argoth made his way off the wall and found Midnight who looked surprisingly well. Argoth mounted, grimacing at the pain, knowing the ride was going to be torture, and put his heels into the horse. The horse made its way through the trenches and fallen bodies. It balked at riding across the ditch at the gate full of dead men, but Argoth kicked his heels hard, and Midnight rode over them, his hooves slipping on the unsteady surface. And then they were picking their way through the dead and burning that covered the ground in front of the gates. Pain shot through his jaw with every bounce. Lords, he was going to go blind with it. But he rode out from the fort toward the creature.

Argoth yelled as best he could. “I was there when we destroyed your brother. I was there when we sent your Mother into Regret’s rotted arms!”

The monster regarded him. It was covered all over in barnacles. It gaped open its ragged, too-wide mouth. Argoth remembered the first creature doing the same thing, like a fish trying to breathe in the air.

“Here,” Argoth said and motioned at himself. “You stupid pile of rocks. Today I teach you the meaning of fear. Or perhaps you want to be released from your bond. We still have one raveler.”

The monster closed its mouth.

“Yes,” Argoth said. “We can do that. We can give you freedom.”

The monster suddenly charged forward.

Argoth put his heels into his mount. The horse surged away from the monster, away from the fort and out onto the battlefield. Argoth galloped through the smoke. With each thump of the hooves, pain shot through his head in a blinding wave. Argoth glanced back. The monster had taken his bait and was following him.

Following him and gaining on him.

Despite the pain in his jaw, Argoth urged his mount faster, and he sped across the battlefield.

The monster caught up before Argoth had ridden a hundred yards. The horse neighed in alarm. Argoth veered to the left. The monster grabbed for one of the horse’s hind legs, missed. Argoth tried to veer away yet again, but the monster grabbed the horse’s tail.

The horse cried out in panic and tried to surge forward, but the monster yanked its back end sideways. At a gallop, there was no way for the horse to keep its footing. It tumbled with a wail. Because of his Fire, Argoth was able to spring from the saddle and avoid being crushed by the horse, but he flew at an odd angle. Furthermore, he didn’t land square, and his momentum slammed him to the ground. Pain exploded in his jaw. A bone snapped in his wrist. He saw a sea of white and green sparks. When his vision returned, he rolled up to one knee, clutching his arm to him, and moved to rise, but the large shadow of the monster fell over him.

* * *

Another group of soldiers fleeing the battlefield ran toward Talen and the others. These soldiers were clad in the black and green of Urz with another group in the silver and blue of Nilliam trailing them. Harnock stood in front of Talen’s group with a shield and sword he’d stolen from a Fir-Noy, and when these soldiers saw him and the woodikin behind, they shouted and veered away, just as the other groups of fleeing men had. Talen’s small company was a boulder around which a stream of men flowed.

Talen had freed two of the three massive urgom which had flown away with the coming of the Bone Faces and the odd blackness they brought with them. Talen was working on the third urgom which was still being used against the Bone Faces.

Harnock waited for the last of the fleeing Urzarians to run past, then motioned the group forward toward the field in front of the fort.

Down at the river the clangor of horns and shouts rose as Mokad’s troops engaged the Bone Faces. Talen looked up. Above the battlefield, the mists of darkness began to blot out the sun. An orange skir darted into the mist, then immediately turned and raced out again. Things moved within that darkness—gray wisps and winged creatures. But even more unnerving was a pull, almost like a distant voice calling to him.

“Lords,” River said, “there’s another one of the abominations from the cave!”

Talen switched his focus from the mists that were moving across the battlefield to the fort. A hulking creature of earth and stone towered over a man.

“That’s Uncle Argoth!” she said.

Harnock growled and sprang forward.

Chot spat, sizing up the earthen monster, then he snarled and chased after Harnock.

Most of Talen’s roamlings were working on the last urgom, but he knew the power of the creature that towered over Uncle Argoth.

Talen had raveled the thrall of an urgom. Surely, this creature had something similar grown into it. He didn’t know what it would do once released, but he knew exactly what it would do under the thrall of its master. He peeled two of his roamlings off the urgom and raced toward the thing the Skir Master Rubaloth had called a son of Lammash.

The creature reached down and grabbed Uncle Argoth by the face. Talen’s roamlings sped across the field, but Harnock beat him to the creature, drawing his sword, and striking the creature in its outstretched arm.

The blade bit deep. It would have severed a normal arm, but this arm was made with black lore, and the blade stuck. Nor did the creature let Argoth go. Instead, it tried to grab Harnock, but Harnock danced away.

Talen rushed to defend his uncle with his roamlings and struck the monster in the back. The fabric of its flesh was different from anything he had yet encountered. He tried to break through that weave, but found it too strong.

The monster whirled. It tried to grasp a roamling, but Talen was too quick. Too slippery. Furthermore, he was hungry, and the monster was full of Fire. It contained more than he’d ever felt in any living thing. A wave of desire washed over him. If he killed this thing, that Fire would be free for the taking. His appetite surged, and he searched for the thrall.

But he didn’t find one.

The monster grabbed for a roamling, caught it by the tail, but then Chot sprang at the monster, distracting it, and Talen wriggled free and pulled back to examine the abomination at a distance. It could obviously see him for it tracked the roamlings. Then it gaped open its mouth at him.

Harnock and Chot struck again. This time the creature let Uncle Argoth go, and faced them.

Meanwhile, Talen thought. The thrall that controlled humans and animals was grown into the flesh, but this was stone and earth and barnacles. Talen thought back to the battle Skir Master Rubaloth had with the first monster. He’d plunged his hand into the creature’s back, looking for what he called its “quickening.”

The monster batted Harnock away, grabbed for Chot.

Then it gaped open its mouth at Harnock. And Talen saw his way in. He didn’t know what else to do.

Uncle Argoth groaned.

There was no time to dither. Talen sent a roamling straight into its mouth. He slipped past its stony lips and down into its gullet. Some substances behaved differently in the world of skir, but stone was solid, and as the monster clamped its mouth shut, Talen realized there was no way out.

He searched down its throat for a weakness in the weave of the earthen body and found nothing. More importantly, he could see no thrall. He moved lower and lower still until the way branched into several pockets, which were the monster’s stomachs. Then he moved into another area and ran up against one of the creatures bones.

The weave changed, and he soon realized the bones weren’t really bones at all. They were made out of wood, covered in something. It only took him a moment to see the pattern—the thrall grew like a skin through the wood.

The monster opened its mouth again and tried to reach in and grab him, but Talen was too deep. He could feel the monster’s frustration, and then the creature must have spied Talen in the flesh, for it gave up trying to fight the roamlings and charged across the field toward him.

Talen explored the bones. In a moment, he found an opening and bit in. As soon as he did, he felt a presence waiting for him. Not of the creature. He could feel its many souls, but that isn’t what frightened him. It was the presence of something sublime, something so wondrous he could not help but worship it, something he wanted to please.

He’d felt this before, and sometimes dreamed of it. It was the presence of the Mother, the one that had taken him in the cave.

He recoiled in fear and dismay.

It couldn’t be her. They’d killed her. He’d felt her pain.

The monster raced across the field. But the Mother reached for him through the roamling in the monster’s belly.
Ah
, she said. Her voice was as beautiful as he remembered. It commanded his adoration.
I thought we would have to search for you.

He felt her call sing along his bones. The Mother was not dead. He and Hunger had not killed her. She had come back and raised another horror. She was speaking again in his bones.

You have grown
, she said, and her beauty washed through him.
But you are still ours
.

I was never yours!
Talen shouted in defiance.

How can you say that? Does the hand tell the head it is separate? Does the foot seek to exist alone? You are part of us. We are part of you. We are one.