Servant: The Dark God Book 1

by John D. Brown

The title felt marvelous, and yet, underneath it ran a filth with a sickening taint.

  The glorious woman was back. His heart longed to serve her. But in his blood and bones he knew the truth: he had been twisted to crave her.

  That knowledge momentarily lessened her power, and he wondered: was this what his mother had seen in him and given her life to fix? Surely even the pox wouldn’t take a whole life to heal. No, more likely she’d recognized the enemy’s tool and given her life to engineer one small flaw so that his adoration wouldn’t be totally complete.

  But if that were the case, it wasn’t much of a flaw because the woman’s joy rushed back to suffuse him.

  “River!” roared Uncle Argoth. “Now!”

  River rushed toward him. She moved with frightening speed. In an eye-blink she sped across the chamber and leapt into a flying kick.

  He’d fought with River. He knew, at this speed, her kick would carry the force to break bones.

  The woman dodged back, and as she did, Talen realized River was not directing the attack at the woman. She was directing it at him. At his head. Her blow, if it didn’t crack his skull, would, at the very least, snap his neck bones.

  River’s face was twisted with fury and grief.

  Talen had no time to react, but the monster did. It rushed forward in a lightning strike and caught her ankle, stopping River’s foot a breath away from his face.

  The monster twisted her leg, sending her to the ground.

  “So unruly a breed,” the hideous woman said. “It looks like we shall raise our army a bit faster than expected. Put her next to the male.”

  The monster moved to carry River next to Da.

  “Wait!” Talen said. “Wait.”

  The woman turned. “Will you serve me?”

  “Boy,” Uncle Argoth called. In his hand, close to his leg, he held a stone.

  Talen knew what Uncle Argoth wanted to do. Knew he could take Talen out of the woman’s grasp, but he couldn’t move toward him. And he could not resist the woman’s question.

  Talen looked back at her. “Yes, I will serve you,” he said, even though down deep in his bones the answer was no.

  Her pleasure rushed through him; it washed him from heel to crown, an ecstasy like he’d never experienced. How could he want to serve this wicked thing so desperately?

  “You will have your heart’s desires,” the woman said. But he knew she lied. She wasn’t going to save Da. She wasn’t going to spare River. He’d seen her for what she was. But he didn’t care.

  “No!” shouted Argoth. “No good can come from this. You cannot lie with sheep and sire men.”

  “Hunger,” the woman commanded.

  The monster grabbed River. Her lovely eyes were full of grief and dismay.

  “I love you, sister,” he said. “I will see you in brightness.”

  Her face fell.

  Talen wanted to resist, but he couldn’t.

  “No,” said Uncle Argoth, but the heat was gone from his voice.

  The living light about the woman reached out to Talen to caress him. “In the end,” she said, “they will see your wisdom and thank you. Now we must hollow you so that we may repair what was done. Hunger, come.”

  The monster took River back to the wall and chained her with double the chains. When it was finished, it turned to face Talen.

  * * *

  The Mother spoke into Hunger’s mind. “As soon as we have the one bred to be the overseer in our control, you will take the others and quicken your brethren.”

  “Yes,” he said, and his heart fell. Hunger had done all she had commanded. He had kept his part of the bargain. But she had just lied to the boy. And if she lied to her overseer, why would she ever keep her word to him, a thing destined for the devouring?

  But what could he do? He could not fight her.

  In anger, he reached forward and took the boy by the throat.

  * * *

  Talen was not a monster. He was not! And yet his desires told another story. The monster’s rough and stony hand closed round his neck, and then something probing along the seams of Talen’s being.

  Reflexively he closed himself, just as River had taught him.

  The monster readjusted its grip and probed again, nipping and biting all about him.

  Talen held himself tighter, felt the monster’s frustration.

  “Open yourself,” the woman crooned.

  She sounded like River had that night when he’d almost died. Open yourself, close yourself. Open, close. A wave of desire washed over Talen, but he held tight to the thought of River.

  The scene back at the house came to his mind. “A body,” River had said, “can only accept so much Fire at once.”

  The monster caught a snag.

  The words reverberated in him: a body could only accept so much Fire at once.

  He had poured forth Fire that would easily kill ten men. He could pour forth a flood. He had been bred to it. And he’d been given one tiny flaw.

  Talen looked at the monster. He could pour forth a flow that could kill ten men, but could it kill a monster? He knew how to open and close himself. He only needed to fling himself wide at the right moment.

  “Open,” the woman said, and this time he could not resist her ease.

  He felt the monster rip into him.

  Talen prepared to fling himself wide, but then he was lost, floating, in his body, but out of it.

  His panic rose. He’d missed his chance!

  “River,” he called in fear.

  With a roar like rushing water, a door burst open within him and another one behind it. He could perceive the chaos of the monster outside that first door, and beyond it, behind the second door, stood the woman.

  Beauty and power like nothing he could imagine. A being worthy of his every devotion. He longed to make her happy. But the truth sang in his bones. He knew she was an illusion. Knew her promises would turn to dust. And yet he didn’t care.

  No, he said to himself. The link between them must be magnifying her effect. He focused on Da and River, on the monster.

  “Well done,” she said.

  He basked in her gratitude and knew he was hanging by a finger. He was slipping, sliding, falling into a powerful river from which he knew he would never return.

  He had to act quickly. He could not withstand this longing.

  The monster wrapped its fingers around his being.

  “Yes!” Talen shouted into the roar of noise. “Come and take me!” Then he threw open his doors and poured himself forth.

  The Fire coursed from him and into the monster’s arm.

  Talen ripped himself wider, a massive rent. The Fire crashed around him like turgid rapids.

  But the monster simply swallowed it up.

  “Yes,” the woman said. “That is good.”

  How much Fire did it take to break a man? How much did it take to break a monster? Talen had no idea, but what he was doing didn’t seem to have any effect.

  Talen opened himself as wide as he could.

  Black spidery lines ran up the creature’s arm, spreading down its side and along its chest. But the creature showed no sign of breaking.

  Fear rose in him. This wasn’t going to work. He’d been a fool! He should have run to Uncle Argoth.

  He tried to pull away but could not, and he didn’t really want to anyway.

  No, Talen thought. No! He searched for more to give, to release all that was in him. And then he felt something slip. He had been standing in the rush, watching it flow by. Now he knew he simply needed to let go, to flow with the Fire. He had his weapon. He had his one tiny flaw.

  “What is he doing?” the woman asked in warning. “Stop it. Close him up.”

  Talen ripped the remnants of the wall that stood between him and the monster and let go. Pain shot through him, and instead of standing in the Fire and watching it flow away, the Fire picked him up, engulfed him, carried him like a piece of flotsam.

  So much Fire.


  The tips of the fingers of the monster lightened like ash. A wave of whiteness passed up the creature’s arm.

  “It’s too much,” said the woman. “Close him!”

  * * *

  The boy’s power was immense. His pool of Fire vast. Hunger had never felt such power in anything he’d ever eaten. He hadn’t felt it in the Mother, and she was the most powerful thing he knew.

  The Fire raged, and Hunger desperately tried to devour it all. The amounts roaring through him to his stomachs was astounding. But what shocked him was that, Lords, he felt pain.

  But no, it was the Mother’s pain. How could that be?

  The link, he realized. She used Hunger to wield powers she could not. And the link was exposing her to the heat of the raging Fire of the boy.

  “It’s too much!” she cried.

  An idea shot through Hunger. Hope sprang forth.

  “No!” she said and tried to break her bond to him, but Hunger held her fast.

  “Release me!” she commanded.

  “Never,” Hunger cried, and instead of funneling the boy’s raging might into his stomachs, he directed it all through his bond to the Mother.

  * * *

  Talen no longer watched the Fire. He was the Fire. He was a furnace, an inferno, a roaring, molten sea. He flowed forth, the Fire engulfing everything. His vision blurred. His body screamed.

  The woman yelled, but her voice was drowned out by the rushing of the Fire.

  He felt her trying to close herself against him, but the monster was fighting her.

  The woman yelled, commanded the monster to let go.

  The creature ignored her.

  “Here,” Talen said, “is my heart’s desire.” And he gave himself, every whit.

  The surge of Fire raged into the monster, turning its dirt and grass white as ash.

  The woman screamed. There was a deafening roar. And then all flashed a blinding white, and Talen’s world cracked.

  The shock tore the monster into pieces, flung Talen like a leaf, and hurled the others in the room into the rock. The Creek Widow tumbled away and crashed into the pallid beast, the bowls of liquid light splashing over the walls.

  Talen reeled and saw a body lying below him.

  He expected to slam into the ground or wall and braced for it, but he twisted and hovered above the scene.

  He looked closer at the body on the floor, and saw it was his body.

  River coughed. She lay on the floor, tangled in her chains. She got to her hands and knees. “Talen,” she said.

  “River!” he yelled.

  But she did not respond.

  “Sister!”

  She did not hear him.

  The fact of the body on the floor finally registered with him and Talen grew very silent.

  He’d expected pain would vanish at the moment of death, but he hurt all over. He felt as if he’d lost something essential, a leg or an arm.

  He looked about to see if the others were moving. Ke lay on his side, face to the wall.

  Something caught Talen and tugged him around.

  It was a hideous thing, all mottled blue with many twisting limbs and too many eyes.

  “Save them,” it said in a voice of gravel. “My pretty girl. My wife. Unravel her binding.”

  Talen tried to pull away, but couldn’t.

  “Quickly,” it said.

  A piece of the creature holding him struggled and then broke away and flitted off over its shoulder. Talen knew this abomination was the monster. It looked nothing like it had in that body of grass and stone, but he knew it was the many souls of the thing.

  It pulled on him with violence and carried him to his body.

  Another part of the monster wriggled free and flitted away.

  “Quickly,” it repeated. “She keeps them in the room where she sleeps.” Then it somehow stuffed him back into his body.

  Pain slapped him, left, and came back in earnest. Talen gasped for air.

  Another part of the monster began to writhe.

  A loud buzzing filled Talen’s ear, and something black darted past the creature.

  The monster turned as if alarmed.

  “Find my stomachs,” it said. “The ones she already took. Unravel them.”

  Something struck the monster, seemed to bite or bore into its back. The monster winced in agony, but continued to close Talen in.

  “Loose them,” it said. “Set them free.”

  Talen’s vision of this new world diminished like someone had drawn closed the mouth of a sack, leaving nothing but three horrid eyes. Then they too winked out and the monster, the wicked buzz, the motion and light—all of it vanished.

  Talen gasped and choked in a mouthful of dust.

  He couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Lords, he hurt. Something was broken inside his chest, cutting his innards like a knife.

  He rolled over and cried out at a searing pain in his ribs, a pain that stole his vision and turned it into a flash of light. “Merciful Creators,” he prayed, imploring, begging for help. “Da.”

  But the pain was too great and everything reeled to the side.

  48

  Shim

  TALEN AWOKE WITH his eyes closed, wailing in pain.

  “Talen,” a voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “Brother.”

  It was River. But Talen couldn’t contain his wails.

  River stroked his forehead. “Shush,” she said gently. “Shush.”

  He gritted his teeth, tried to stop. He panted, and then the wailing turned to sobs, great wracking sobs, and tears streamed down his face.

  He opened his eyes.

  Blood had run out of one of River’s nostrils and dried in the dust on her face. The odd beast light still lit the room behind her, but it had diminished greatly.

  “Where’s Da? Ke?”

  A weary grief rose in River’s eyes. “Ke is fading fast.”

  “And your father,” said the Creek Widow, “let us hope that he has been gathered by the ancestors.” Talen turned and looked at her. She’d tried to wipe it away, but he could see her mouth had been smashed. Dried blood caked the edges of her lips. It caked her gums. She was missing two teeth on one side.

  A sob rose in him. But he swallowed it. He could not fathom Da being gone.

  Talen closed his eyes and composed himself.

  “It wanted me to unravel its stomachs,” he said.

  The Creek Widow narrowed her eyes.

  “The monster,” said Talen. “Before it put me back.”

  “Talen,” Uncle Argoth said, “how did you do it? What magic was that?”

  Talen shrugged. “River had said you could kill a man by giving him too much Fire. I gave the monster everything.”

  “Incredible,” Uncle Argoth said.

  The Creek Widow shook her head. “My boy.” She took his hand. “My bright, shining boy. You have snatched victory from the jaws of death.”

  “But I didn’t,” he said. “The monster put me back.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The monster,” said Talen. “It put me back into my body.”

  “But the monster lies in pieces,” said Argoth.

  “It was there, on the other side. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  “This place,” said the Creek Widow surveying the chamber. “It will take a great many days to understand what went on here.”

  “Is the woman gone?” asked Talen.

  “Can you feel her inside you?” asked Uncle Argoth.

  Talen turned inward. He could not feel her. “I heard her scream,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Uncle Argoth. “We heard it also.”

  “There were doors between us,” said Talen. He felt inward and could find no trace of that link between him and the woman. “They are gone.”

  “Let us hope. But even if she is gone,” said Uncle Argoth, “I do not think her sisters will sit long. To them we are mad bulls broken from the pens and goring the good villagers.”


  “Talen,” said River. “Do you think you can stand? We need to make our way out while this odd light lasts.”

  “I can stand,” he said and rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Every joint of him protested in pain. His head swam. But he forced himself up. “I can stand.”

  A multitude of what looked to be pale sea kelp littered the chamber floor. “What is that?” he asked.

  “The woman’s creatures,” said River.

  “Or were they her children?” asked the Creek Widow.

  “We should take some to examine,” said Uncle Argoth.

  “I’ve tried to pick them up,” said River. “I cannot seem to handle them.”

  Uncle Argoth bent and tried to pick one up, but it only slid aside. He tried again and failed.

  The Creek Widow shook her head. “There are simply too many questions. And we don’t have time for them. We need to see to Purity.”

  * * *

  When Sugar recovered from the explosion, she ran to Mother who was still chained to the wall and knelt next to her. Mother was covered in dust, slumped. The living collar still coiled about her neck.

  “Mother,” Sugar said and grabbed her hand. “Mother.”

  She did not respond.

  “Please,” Sugar said and felt for a pulse on Mother’s wrist. There was nothing. She moved her fingers. Moved them again, and then felt something. She pressed harder. It was a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.

  Legs too was covered in dust. They all were. Legs also had a cut on his head, and the blood had mixed with the dust on his face and in his hair. “Sugar,” he called.

  “Here,” she replied, and then Mother stirred.

  Sugar turned round. “Mother,” she said.

  Legs felt his way over and grasped Mother’s other hand.

  And then Mother wearily opened her eyes. She took a shallow exhausted breath, and then looked up at Legs and then Sugar.

  “My dears,” she said. “Bless the Six.”

  “They’re gone,” Sugar said. “We can get you out of here.”

  Mother licked her dry and peeling lips, then reached out to touch Sugar’s and then Legs’s face. She smiled wanly. “You shining children. You are the moon and the sun.”

  “Oh, Mother,” Legs said and pressed into her in a tight embrace. Sugar pressed in as well, gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, then enfolded Legs and Mother in her arms.