Curse: The Dark God Book 2

by John D. Brown

  The children’s mother hid them in the upper reaches of their barn. But she wasn’t able to close the barn doors and the mists caught her. One slithered into her mouth and she fell to her knees. The second boy had wanted to go to her aid, but other mists flowed into the barn. And then a pair of men came along, hauled their mother to her feet, and dragged her away. The mists in the barn did not bother the men, but the children didn’t trust it for it lay along the dirt at the bottom of the barn, moving even though there was no wind.

  The children peered through a knot hole to see where the men were taking their mother.They saw something come out of the orchard, something tall with horns. Odd lavender flames flashed around the thing, but they never could get a good look at it. The children soon turned from the peephole, pressing deep into the hay and plugging their ears. But it didn’t block out the cries of pain that rose throughout the village. Sometime later the cries ceased.

  “And the men who took your mother,” Argoth asked, “what did they look like?”

  Tears began to spill from the little girl’s eyes.

  “Their faces were painted red and yellow,” said the boy.

  “Did you see their tattoos?”

  “Like Bone Faces,” he said.

  Argoth asked them a few more questions, but it was clear the children had told all.

  “I bet you’re hungry,” Argoth said.

  They nodded.

  He called Shim’s clerk in to take them. But the children wouldn’t go with him and clung to Sugar and Urban.

  Matiga said to Sugar, “Leave the things you retrieved here. Find them food and a place to sleep and where their uncle lives.” She pointed at Urban. “You go with her. And you, Talen, tell your brother I want a chat.”

  Sugar led the childred out with Urban. When Talen shut the door behind himself, Shim said, “We’ve fought the Bone Faces for years. This isn’t Bone Faces.”

  “Maybe the Bone Faces and Mokad are in league,” said Matiga. “We pose a common threat to both.”

  “It’s clear our plans need to be speeded up,” Shim said.

  “Argoth’s original time table was already too short to build an army of dreadmen by next spring,” said Eresh. “You can accelerate some learning, but the body can only be stretched so far. Developing someone into a dreadman takes time. Rush it, and you’ll just end up with a lot of broken men.”

  “What other options do we have?”

  “You can’t fight them here, bottled up in a fortress,” said Eresh. “You have no Skir Masters. If you try to stand against them toe to toe, they’ll pin you down with a barrage of wind. You’ll shoot your rain of arrows only to have their skir winds throw them off course. Then the winds will pound you with sand. You can wear goggles to keep it from blinding you, but mixed in with the sand will be shards of shale that will cut like knives. And then they’ll bring up the larger skir. They’ll slam hundred-pound stones into your gates and knock them to splinters, blow your men off the parapets. You cannot beat them by playing their game.”

  “That was never our intent,” said Shim. “We always meant to fight them with ambush and raid, with sabotage and subterfuge. We meant to assassinate the Divines first. And when the snake’s head was cut off, we would then chop up the body. Without the Divines, the weaves of their dreadmen would soon run dry. Our army, on the other hand, would never run dry because we would teach each man and woman the lore. Because we wouldn’t be relying on weaves, Mokad would grow weaker as we grew stronger.”

  “Killing a Divine is not as easy as it sounds,” said Eresh.

  Argoth said, “We could flee. As distasteful as that option is, it must be on the table.”

  Shim shook his head. “You can’t disappear a whole people. We’d have to leave the bulk of our clans behind. Leave our fair wives and children to become like Redthorn. I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

  “It might be your only option,” said Eresh.

  “No,” said Shim.

  “You cannot send candidates to contend with the terrors of Mokad,” said Eresh.

  “Then let us force them to the next level,” said Argoth.

  “I just told you,” said Eresh. “You’ll end up with broken men.”

  Argoth said, “That’s not entirely true. It can be done in a way that minimizes the loss.”

  Ke and Matiga raised their eyebrows in surprise.

  “I’ve done it before,” Argoth said.

  “How big is this loss?” asked Shim.

  “Ten percent. Maybe a bit less.”

  “Or maybe a bit more,” said Eresh. “Maybe a lot more.”

  Forcing a man was like stuffing a burlap sack with something that was much too big for it. Some sacks stretched. Other sacks broke instead, ripping along a seam or some weak part of the weave. Likewise, some men could bear, up to a point, a sudden multiplication of their powers. In time their bodies and the bindings of the three vitalities matured and strengthened, and they could be forced again.

  Others could not bear the added stress. Their bodies and bindings tore. And through the gaps their Fire poured forth in a rush. If it was not stopped, those who broke would die, sooner or later, in a muggy haze of firejoy. Of those that didn’t die, some of them could heal over a few months or years and try to wield their Fire again. Others became brittle and had to wear a governor the rest of their lives.

  Shim sighed heavily. “I don’t want to lose one of our candidates.”

  “That’s not your only problem,” said Eresh. “Three hundred weaves eat a prodigious amount of Fire. I’ve looked at your weaves. They are starting to run dry. I don’t think you have two week’s worth of Fire.”

  “Then I will make another sacrifice,” said Shim.

  Shim had already given huge amounts of Fire. Argoth didn’t know how much more the man had.

  Shim saw Argoth’s look. “These soldiers follow me. They risked everything trusting my word. If I have to sacrifice all my Days in their service, I will do it.”

  “I didn’t speak against it,” said Argoth.

  “I will,” said Eresh. “You pour too much of yourself out, and you’ll be dead. Then who will lead them?”

  “If this fails,” said Shim, “we’re all dead anyway.”

  Up until this point, River had stood in the corner keeping her silence. She spoke now. “We’ll all make another sacrifice. And we’ll pray the ancestors bless us. But there’s more. Harnock has Fire,” said River. “He has the Book of Hismayas. There might be lore there that could help. We should send someone one more time to fetch him.”

  “He will not leave the Wilds,” said Matiga. “Especially not with Divines here.”

  “The book of Hismayas?” asked Eresh.

  Argoth sighed. The book was supposed to contain great treasures of lore, the crown great treasures of power. Many had fought and killed for it. The Divines had stolen it; the Order had stolen it back. But the Book was beyond any of the Order.

  “Lords, man,” said Eresh, “where is it?”

  “It cannot be opened,” said Argoth. “It has killed all who have tried.”

  “It hasn’t seen the likes of me,” said Eresh.

  “And it won’t,” said Matiga. “It’s in Harnock’s hands. If you try to go there, he will slay you. I’m telling you: it is not an option.”

  River shook her head. “He didn’t act that way toward me when I went with my father.”

  “Harnock and your father had a bond,” Argoth said. “If we had time, we could work it out with him, and I would send you. But even if you got in, the book is sealed. What we need are Fire and dreadmen. We need you here helping us raise the candidates, not chasing a dicer’s dream.”

  River sighed.

  “Let us do as we planned at the beginning,” said Argoth, “although our chances are now stretched even thinner.”

 
“You cannot take retreat off the table,” said Eresh. “I suggest a time limit. We fight not just for the people in these lands. If we lose, there will be no mercy. They will exterminate every living thing associated with us. And the truth about the Divines will be lost.”

  Matiga said, “The truth will only sound like lies until we can prove it over and over. What mankind needs is proof. We can shout the truth from the rooftops, but until we can prove it in their eyes, the truth will be labeled as just one more vile sleth heresy and turned against us.”

  Eresh learned over to Argoth. “That one has some brains. A nice form. I think she’ll do nicely.”

  “Careful,” said Argoth.

  “Indeed I shall be,” said Eresh, delight shining in his one eye.

  Matiga raised one eyebrow and gave him a look that pegged him somewhere slightly above a toad.

  Shim said, “We’ll prepare to carry the truth into the wilderness. But now is not the time to retreat. Now is the time to kill the snake that is before us.”

  “We’ll need reconnaissance,” said Ke. “And tactics. They’re going to bring a Skir Master or three in. The chief Skir Master is the one we need to target first. He’ll have rings of security about him. And you can be sure he’ll bring kitemen. It’s going to be very tricky approaching him with them watching everything from the skies.”

  “And,” said Argoth, “if I know Mokad, they will have a few dogmen on the ground.”

  “Toth,” Eresh spat. “I never liked that country.”

  “It’s going to be very difficult to find a weakness,” said Argoth. “Especially if we only have a matter of days to do it.”

  “What about the Victor’s crown?” Shim asked. “Have you repaired it?”

  Argoth sighed and shook his head. They had thought it impervious, but later found that the Devourer had damaged it in the battle in the cave. The lore was ancient, and none that now lived fully understood it. “We have tried everything we know; it still eludes us.”

  “What about that Flax of the Hand?” River asked. “Why don’t we bring him into this council?”

  “No,” Eresh bristled. “The Hand thinks only of itself. You will rely on them to your sorrow.”

  “Surely they have dealt with this before,” said River. “More than any of us, they know how to hunt Divines.”

  “What they know is how to turn their backs on their allies. That is all they know.”

  “They have killed Divines,” said Shim.

  “They have killed loremen as well.”

  “Master Kish,” said Matiga. “You’re going to have to get along.”

  Eresh licked his bottom lip. “Oh, I’ll get along, your most formidable loveliness, right up until the time he and his betray you. And then I’ll be there with my knife to carve out his throat.”

  “I’ll take that as an oath,” said Shim. “And seeing how much you protest those who break their oaths, I expect it will be worth something.”

  “Aye,” said Eresh, “worth my weight in Hand blood.”

  “We still don’t have a decision,” Matiga said.

  Shim said, “We will prepare to move out and break into smaller units that can hide more easily. Two days from now there will be nothing but a small number left here to make the enemy think this is still our base. For the rest of us, our mission is to locate the Divines sent against us.”

  “The Skir Master must fall in the first stroke,” said Eresh. “He must be the prime target. We’ll be lucky if we get one chance, and we don’t want to be wasting it on lesser targets.”

  “Agreed,” said Shim. Then he turned to the pack Sugar left on the table. “Now let us see if Purity left us anything that might be helpful.”

  13

  Chicken Bone

  SUGAR AND URBAN took the children to the kitchens, Legs in tow. The odors of the thick dreadman’s stew the candidates called swamp rose from the cooking pots and wafted across the fortress. The stew was made of many things: barley, fish, beef, cabbage, and probably twelve other ingredients. All candidates ate it every afternoon and evening. The weaves multiplied the powers of the body, but they also multiplied hunger and thirst. And this stew slaked both. To her surprise, Sugar actually had grown to enjoy it. She and Urban took three wooden dishes and filled them with swamp for the children, telling them that they would be taken back to the border later, for it appeared they had an uncle that lived in a village not far from Redthorn.

  An old cook filled Sugar’s bowl with swamp, then fetched a basket from a shelf behind her and pulled away the cloth cover to reveal half a dozen mushroom and cheese pies left over from the Apple Dance. She asked Sugar how many she wanted, and Sugar asked how many she could get. The cook simply gave the basket to her, telling her she was a brave lass. Sugar offered Urban a pie, but he waved it away. “I need to talk to Argoth about your special skills.”

  Sugar took a bite of pie. The cheese was soft and pungent. The mushrooms were spiced and mixed with sweet onion. And the pastry shell flaked with every bite. She thought she might pass out for the joy of it. She took another bite. “What skills?” she asked around the mouthful of pie.

  But Urban only smiled and walked back across the bailey.

  Sugar thanked the cook profusely for the pies, then made her way to some tables with Legs and the children.

  When they sat, Legs said, “I hate the fact that I couldn’t be there to help you.”

  “It all turned out.”

  “One of these days, I’m going to pluck the eyes out of a goat to see if they won’t grow in my own head. Then the next time you go to Plum, you won’t have to go alone.”

  “Yes, and both of us would have then fallen into the trap.”

  Legs shook his head. “Tenter’s famous for his love of garlic. If I’d been there, it’s likely I would have smelled him out.”

  “But would you have smelled Redthorn?”

  “I’m telling you, one of these days,” said Legs, “I’ll have my goat eyes and be able to fight. Then you won’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

  “You and your goat eyes,” said Sugar. “If you’re pining after eyes, why not long for something that will bestow superior sight, like a hawk’s?”

  “A hawk?” asked Legs. “Too small. Can you imagine? Those little things, rolling around in my sockets.”

  “Why are we even talking about this?” asked Sugar. “You can’t grow an eye.”

  “If the Green Ones can bring back the dead, they can bring back an eye.”

  “So say the Divines, but I don’t know that we should believe everything that falls from Divine lips. It’s probably just more propaganda.”

  “It’s propaganda I want to believe,” said Legs.

  “And that’s the problem with propaganda,” she said.

  Sugar ate with Legs and the children until she thought she might burst, and then she found a fist of men who were on patrol later and could take the children back. Shortly after that, the leadership filed out of Shim’s chambers along with Urban. Argoth gave the command for the candidates to form ranks. Shim’s army was a little over six thousand strong. A number of hammers were out of the fortress on various duties, and there were terrors and cohorts of men stationed at various places around the clanlands, but almost two thousand soldiers were in the fortress, and they lined up. Of these, 327, including her and Talen, were dreadman candidates. The rest were waiting expectantly to be awakened to the lore.

  The army stood at attention in sharp lines, grouped by their units. The smallest units in Shim’s army were fists of ten or so soldiers. Two to four fists combined to make a hammer.Four or five hammers made up a terror. Shim’s army had enough men for three dreadman terrors, although almost all were still only candidates, their bodies still in the beginnings of change brought about by their awakening. With time, they would increase their capacity and move to more powerful
weaves, then no weaves at all, wielding the lore as Ke and River and Argoth did.

  Sugar took her place and watched as Argoth and Commander Eresh reviewed the soldiers. Next to Sugar stood River and the other eight females of her fist. They were the only women who had been given weaves. The plan was to teach the lore to all men and women, but priority had to go to the strongest and fastest of those already skilled as warriors. The Creek Widow, however, had insisted on a fist of women for spies, if nothing else, and had put River in charge. Legs stood behind Sugar, outside the official ranks. The big blond foreigner came in after everyone was formed up and stood next to him.

  Commander Eresh walked down the line of candidates. He took one man by the ear and pulled his head back and forth as if appraising how well it was connected to his shoulders. He sniffed another man. Another was told to open his mouth and show his teeth and gums. Sugar herself was told to look up so he could see the whites of her eyes.

  Eresh said, “There are better uses for pretty things than putting them in front of a great mass of brutes.”

  “Zu,” said Sugar, “with all respect for your fearsome power, the pretty things here can beat half the fists in this army.”

  Eresh looked at Argoth.

  “They’re good,” Argoth said.

  Eresh grunted and moved down the line. When he finished, both he and Zu Argoth returned to the front to address the group.

  “Candidates,” said Zu Argoth. “Before you stands Eresh the Bloody. He was one of those that stopped the black hordes and sent them back to their mountains. He once led two terrors of Dreadmen. He has joined our cause and is now the master of candidates and will oversee your training.”

  But Commander Eresh had wandered over to the cooking pots. He took the ladle from one of the cooks and took a sip of the hot and steaming broth. He rolled it around in his mouth and smacked his lips.