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 wa
il. 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.
“Lies!” he told himself, but he wanted to feel her voice in him again.
You mortally wounded your own sister. But she was never the one destined to lead us. She was always too small. So I saved her, as you should have done. I consumed her, and have grown, and will grow again as I bring you back into the fold. She pushed into him.
Talen panicked. She was wrong! He was human! But he himself knew that was not completely true. He struggled back, away from her. I will not be one of you! I am my own!
You are ours, this new Mother said.
Talen pushed with all his might and was barely able to keep her at bay. But he knew it wouldn’t last. Her ease would weaken him, and he would eventually give in. He could feel that desire growing in him even now.
He had to break it. Had to break away. But she wouldn’t let him go, and so he turned on her. She blocked his attack. He struck again to no effect. Then he realized the monster was her path to him. There were doorways and connections, and all he had to do was break that connection.
You will not, she said.
But
he ignored her command and bit into the thrall growing inside the monster and frantically began to ravel it.
The Mother sent a wave of pain into him that turned his bones to fire, but he gritted his teeth and kept working.
On the field in front of him, the monster charged. Talen backed away, but couldn’t run for the raveling demanded all his focus.
“Stop the creature!” Talen yelled to the others.
River shouted and attacked with a sword. Harnock picked up a polearm with an axe blade on one side and a frightful hook on the other and swung the blade around in a mighty blow that sank deep into one of the monster’s knees.
The creature took another step, but the blade of the poleax was deep. Something cracked, and the creature tumbled to the earth. It tried to rise, but couldn’t get its wounded leg to work.
Harnock swung again, but the monster immediately scuttled forward with horrible speed on its two long arms and one good leg like some insect.
Talen backed away, focused on his roamling, on raveling.
Chot struck the monster in the face with his axe.
River tossed her sword and grabbed its good leg.
The monster swatted Chot out of the way. It broke free of River’s grasp. Harnock hooked the beast in the shoulder with the polearm, but the beast ripped the pole out of Harnock’s hands.
Inside Talen’s mind, the Mother shrieked in frustration. He felt her wrath and knew her punishments would be vast. But after a moment, he realized the power of her voice and touch was receding.
He was weakening her link!
Courage sprang forth and along with it righteous anger. The monster’s mouth was open now, and Talen was almost finished with the third urgom. He sent another roamling streaking down from the massive urgom and sent it into the Mother’s creature, then darted away in the flesh.
Your kind killed my father, Talen shouted at the Mother. You killed my mother. You and yours have preyed upon humankind, but no more!
He ripped into the thrall with all three mouths. He tore and drank the creature’s Fire. Power rushed into him, and he redoubled his efforts.
Raveler: The Dark God Book 3 Page 34
