Servant: The Dark God Book 1

by John D. Brown

  “They killed Da,” Sugar said.

  “I know, Sweet,” Mother said.

  The warmth of Mother’s body, the stroke of her hand, the touch of her cheek on Sugar’s skin—suddenly the stone within her melted and was replaced with a wave of emotion that rose from within, bringing to the surface the grief that had deserted her since the mob attacked. She sobbed tears into the dust on her mother’s neck.

  “You’re wonders,” Mother said and stroked her hair. “You both are wonders. Thank the Six.”

  Then Mother winced and cried out in pain.

  Sugar pulled back. “Matiga!” she called.

  “We’re here,” Argoth said behind her.

  The Creek Widow looked down at Mother and rolled up her dusty sleeves. “You don’t look good, my girl. But we can fix that.”

  “Look at that collar,” Argoth said. “It’s moving. Can you still feel the woman?”

  Mother reached up and felt the collar about her neck. It moved slightly at her touch. “The link with her is broken,” she said.

  “We’ll find a way to remove that,” Argoth said.

  Mother shook her head. “I’ve seen things here,” she said. “The woman took me abroad one night. Things are not right.”

  “What do you mean?” the Creek Widow asked.

  “The world of souls,” Purity said.

  Behind them Ke dragged himself to his feet. He was battered and bleeding about the head. He looked like he’d been worked over by a sledgehammer. He said, “We need to leave. Our light is burning low, and we do not know what else resides in these warrens. We need to get out.”

  The Creek Widow nodded. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a bag of rocks,” he said.

  She motioned at the chains holding Mother. “Help me with these,” she said.

  River and Zu Argoth joined her, and despite the fact that they were all injured, they pulled the chains from the wall.

  “Help your brother,” the Creek Widow said to River. “Argoth and I will take care of Purity.”

  River went to help Ke. Zu Argoth reached down and gathered up Purity and her chains in his arms.

  “What about Da?” Talen asked motioning at the monster into which the soul of Zu Hogan had been transferred.

  Ke put his arm around River’s shoulders and leaned on her. “He lies there yet,” he said grimly. “I don’t think the woman had the time to fully quicken that beast. We’ll come back for him. We’ll figure it out, Talen.”

  The Creek Widow took Legs’s hand. “Sugar and Talen, lead us out of this place.”

  Sugar let Talen lead because she didn’t want to release Mother’s hand. She didn’t want to stop stroking her arm. She didn’t want to ever let her go again.

  They began the journey back, but they could not move quickly with River supporting Ke, and Argoth and the Creek Widow taking turns carrying Purity. Nor could Talen do much more than shuffle with his injuries. All this meant that the torches burned out long before they’d reached the entrance to the caves.

  They stood in the darkness and Sugar wondered how they would ever make it back. Then Legs spoke up. “I think I recognize this place. Lead me forward.”

  Sugar used the rope in her sack and tied them all together, and then they moved forward, hands held out to feel in the darkness before them. Not long after, Legs said, “I know where we are!”

  “How can you know that?” Talen asked.

  “Orientation points,” said Zu Argoth. “A dead spot where there is no breeze, the place where you can hear the pouring of distant water, the corridor with the double echo.”

  “Precisely,” Legs said.

  “Then lead the way,” Talen said.

  Legs made his way to the front, and then they continued forward. They walked for what seemed hours in their shuffling line. They did take some wrong turns, but Sugar eventually heard the water falling over the rocks. It wasn’t long after that that Legs led them out of the cave and into the light.

  Sugar blinked in the sunlight. The warm air of early evening wrapped about her like a blanket. She took in a glorious breath of sunlight and air. They’d done it!

  Argoth laid Mother down, and Sugar dropped to her knees next to her in relief.

  A moment later the woods about the cave boiled to life with men armed with swords and axes and spears and bows, all wearing Shoka blue and green.

  “The sleth woman!” a man shouted.

  A murmur arose, and the bowmen drew their arrows, pointed them at Sugar and the others. There had to be at least a hundred of them. Behind them teams of hunting dogs began to bark and strain at their masters’ leashes.

  * * *

  Argoth looked at the faces of the men surrounding him. He looked at their dogs. They stood thirty paces away, the proper distance for confronting sleth. He knew all of them. Then Shim pushed his way through and stood at the front of their line.

  “Captain Argoth,” the warlord boomed. “Whom do you serve?”

  For a moment Argoth faltered. Had he misjudged Shim? Were all of his pleadings and talks of alliances just a ruse? After all, it was Shim who had told him the lie that Skir Master had lost his beast. It was Shim who had wanted him to expose the Order just before the Skir Master arrived.

  “I serve you, Lord.”

  “Oh, but I have a Bailiff here that says the monster is yours.” Shim motioned at the Bailiff of Stag Home. Next to him stood the man they called Prunes, a warrior of many battles, a man that was frightened by neither death nor torture. His face, oddly enough, shone with fear. And Argoth realized these men were preparing to slaughter them.

  Argoth shook his head at the futility of their fight. They’d just dealt a blow to an unimaginable enemy, and these fools were going to kill them.

  “What did you say?” asked Shim.

  “The monster,” said Argoth, “is destroyed.”

  “And its master?”

  “Fled. But you can search the cave and verify what we say. You will find a room with the bodies of Hogan the Horse of Blood Hill who fell trying to protect the people of this land as well as the bodies of nine more terrors that would have been unleashed upon us.”

  The Warlord turned to the Bailiff. “Since you bring the accusations, I’m going to let you lead the search. Pick fifty men.”

  The Bailiff turned and looked at Prunes who appeared to quail at the prospect of entering the cave, but he did not refuse and soon the two of them had selected the men to go with them. They decided to use Purity’s daughter as the guide, bound her hands, and disappeared into the hole. The rest of the soldiers eyed Argoth and the others warily.

  “What about the sleth woman?” a captain of the Shoka asked, clearly worried Purity might rise to attack them.

  Shim looked down at Purity. “Is she sleth? Or is she a victim of yet another Fir-Noy plot against the Koramites? Was her guilt ever proven? If she truly is a wicked killer, then I will slit her throat myself. But first I want answers.”

  “We should at least bind her and those children,” another man said.

  “Feel free,” Shim said and waved the men on.

  The men hesitated.

  Argoth said, “I vouch for every one of them. But if you will throw me your ropes, I will bind them.”

  That seemed to satisfy the men, and they threw Argoth a number of lengths of cord to bind the wrists and ankles of the others. When he finished, Argoth sat on a rock. And they waited, the men of Shim’s army ready to fill them with arrows.

  The search party returned as the sun was setting and confirmed what Argoth had told them. They brought with them the body of Hogan and part of the monster’s leg.

  “There were eight others like this,” said the Bailiff.

  Eight? But there had been nine. Hogan, Argoth thought, my dear friend—where have you gone?

  “Captain Argoth said there were nine.”

  “We only found eight, Zu.”

  Argoth turned to River, “Did I miscount? Were there eight or nine?”
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  River didn’t miss a beat. “Eight, I think,” she said.

  Argoth turned to Shim. “There were eight. But we cannot leave them there. They need to be collected and destroyed. Their dark lord must not return and find them.”

  The Bailiff said, “We found a passage beyond the chamber where the battle took place. It is deep and broad and leads into the belly of the mountain.”

  Shim nodded. “For years we’ve lived with the caves of this land, ignoring them, ignoring those who disappear. Perhaps it is time we find out what lives in their depths.”

  Shim cross over the space between his men and the battered party and stood before Argoth. “You’ve done well, Captain,” he said. “Very well. And you’ll have your celebration feast, but not just yet.”

  Argoth looked into the eyes of his old friend and found . . . honesty.

  What a fool he’d been to doubt him.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Shim.

  “Nothing,” said Argoth.

  “You don’t trust me yet?” asked Shim. “Lords, I should take offense.”

  “I—”

  “I nothing,” said Shim. He pitched his voice low. “Of course, maybe I should take that as a good sign. If I convinced you, then I convinced all the merry fellows I brought with me.”

  “Do they trust this?” asked Argoth.

  “I trust it,” said Shim. “And they trust me.”

  “You’re taking a great risk,” said Argoth in a low voice.

  “Such little faith,” said Shim.

  He put one of his arms around Argoth’s shoulders and turned to his men. “My Lords,” he called.

  Lords?

  Two men separated themselves from the other soldiers. As they approached, Argoth saw it was Bosser, a captain of the Vargon clan, and the Prime, the head of the clan council.

  “Do you see?” asked Shim. “You are not alone.”

  Both Bosser and the Prime came forward to stand before Argoth.

  Bosser stroked the moustache that grew down to his chin.

  “Welcome back, Captain,” said the Prime.

  In a quiet voice, Shim said, “It is time, my friend, for us to receive a little instruction.”

  Argoth should have felt hope or worry, but after all that had happened, he only felt a weariness descend upon him.

  “A new order will arise in this land,” said Shim.

  The words struck Argoth. Weren’t those exactly the words the woman had used? Argoth looked to Bosser. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Not all Glories inherited their rule,” said Shim. “Some of them had to take it by force.”

  “There are more powers at work here than just those of men,” said Argoth

  Shim shook his head. “Then we adjust the strategy,” he said and turned around to address the larger group. “Men of the Shoka!” he shouted. “It is time to celebrate. Argoth the Hammer has defeated the monster that terrorized our lands!”

  * * *

  They did celebrate that night at the Shoka fortress Lord Shim himself commanded. Shim made sure to ease his men with plenty of ale. They ate and drank and danced, and then Argoth told them about how the monster had come after him and Hogan, the two who had first attacked it in the tower. He described the giant night maw in the cave and its bluish light. He described the power of the monster and its beautiful master. He told of Sugar and Talen having the courage and sense to deliver the Skir Master’s ravelers. Of the battle, he spoke little. Then he told of how Legs had led them out again.

  He left huge gaps in the story. He had to. Over the next few days the men would begin to wonder—what of Purity? Why did the beast rescue her? What was Matiga’s connection? What was the Refuge? He suspected The Crab, before he died, would have revealed that the Skir Master enthralled Argoth. He was sure that report was running, even now, through the clans.

  After the tale, someone called out for a song. “That blind one’s a singer,” one of the men said. “Let him earn his keep!”

  Legs sat up, chewing on a mouth full of frog’s leg.

  “Come on, boy,” someone called. “A song.”

  Legs swallowed, put down his frog leg, and wiped his mouth. “I shall sing, but only if you promise not to pelt me with vegetables, bones, or knives.”

  A few men chuckled.

  “I don’t want to be blindsided,” Legs said.

  More laughed at that joke.

  Argoth considered Legs again. The boy was resourceful. He kept his wits. He also was a puzzle. Had the weave that changed Talen changed him as well? It was something they’d need to look into.

  Legs took a big breath, made a flourish, then began a song about the Mighty One Hundred—the sleth hunters in old Cath. Again Argoth was surprised. Legs sang with strength. It wasn’t the full-bodied voice of a mature man. It was simple and clear and Argoth couldn’t help but feel the emotion of the story. When he finished there was silence for half a beat. Then the men cheered and called for another. But not all the men were as pleased. Some of them looked at Legs with wariness.

  Legs led them in a group song about a one-legged slave who saved the village onions. Then someone called out for “The Hogwife.” It was a humorous song about a beautiful sleth who had consumed the soul of a boar. Usually the singer sang each verse alone, then the group came in on the choruses.

  Legs paused, then started the men clapping the rhythm.

  Argoth wondered if he was the only one to see Legs’s brief hesitation.

  Legs began.

  Her face fired devotion,

  Her body fired blood,

  If only she’d cease

  Her rooting in the mud.

  Argoth watched the faces of the men. This was probably not the best song. It would only raise questions about Purity. He wondered if the men would sing the chorus, or if they’d feel the jarring as well, but most of the men joined in, even if some were still wary.

  Oh, I’ve got me two wives

  All mixed up in one,

  A woman and a sow,

  But Get have I none

  Legs continued.

  I married her sweetly

  We labored to breed

  But, blister me, monsters

  Can’t quicken men’s seed.

  Legs belted out the last bit like some depressed lout and it was perfect. He sang like one of the entertainers at the gaming fields. More of the men joined in this time.

  Oh, I’ve got me two wives

  All mixed up in one,

  A woman and a sow,

  But I want a son.

  When they sang the last line, the men raised their fists and shook them in demand.

  E’re long came my pretty,

  Blackened weave in her hand,

  To bed, and I’ll make you

  A proper hogman.

  Someone made a love sick call. Legs sang on in a secretive voice.

  To bed, and in darkness

  Irresistible she

  Fed me the boar

  And enhanced my breed

  Now dirt’s my moustache,

  And worms muddy my eyes

  Legs changed his tone back to the full gusto.

  But, oh, honeyed heaven

  There’s nothing so fine

  As Hogwife and I

  Rooting side by side

  The men joined in again, some swinging their mugs of ale.

  Oh, I’ve got me two wives

  All mixed up in one.

  She bore me a litter—

  Five smart piglet sons!

  Many of the men clapped, whistled, hooted. But not all. Someone called out for another, but Legs waved them off, took a bow, and sat down. The men around him clapped him on the back. The ale had loosened them, but tomorrow when they were sober, they would begin thinking.

  Argoth looked at Shim who, it appeared, had been watching him. Shim pointed at the door with his chin, indicating he wanted to talk with Argoth outside, and Argoth exited the room into the night. Above him, the stars hung br
ight in the heavens. Behind him, a group of men began another song. In front of him, in the middle of the fortress inner court lay the eight bodies of the monster’s brethren. He shook his head: there was so much the Order didn’t know.

  A few moments later Shim exited the building. “That blind one’s full of surprises,” he said.

  “I’m sure we don’t know the half,” said Argoth.

  Shim nodded. “Come with me.” He led Argoth to his command room across the bailey. Shim lit a lamp. The shutters were closed, but Shim pulled a small, thick blanket across each. In the winter such would keep the cold out. But they also muffled sound.

  They sat in chairs, the lamp burning on the table to the side of them. “My friend,” said Shim. “I have shown you my love. I have shown you my trust. You need to honor that now and tell me your tale.”

  Argoth hesitated. Such secrets were too dangerous to tell, but he had hidden all his life, and it had led to nothing but loss. How could bringing the truth into the light of the sun be any worse? “Give me your hand, Lord.”

  Shim stretched out his rough and callused hand. Upon the wrist was the tattoo of the Shoka clan. Surrounding that and running up Shim’s arm were the tattoos of Shoka manhood and his military orders.

  Each Clan had their own designs for manhood, military orders, and other markings, but each was built around the same simple clan pattern. Each child was required to have that pattern dyed into their flesh by a Divine. The pattern of Mokad.

  And suddenly something the woman in the cave said fell into place. He looked at Shim’s clan tattoo again.

  Those who were ruled by other Glories had a different base pattern. And if they should be conquered or immigrate, the tattoo of the new ruler was added. He thought of Hogan with the simple Koramite tattoo and the Mokaddian added to it. He thought of all those he’d seen—the men of other nations, Bone Faces, Cath—all wore tattoos. All of them inked by Divines.