Hunger felt the second worm burrow in. His panic rose. His arm was breaking apart like dried-out dirt. At one time he’d wanted dissolution. But not now. He saw his daughter, wife, and remaining son before him, caught in a stomach. The Mother would not spare them if he failed.
He was their only chance.
The second worm burrowed deeper, burning, burning, burning as it went.
He resisted the urge to clutch at it. If he released the one in his arm, he knew he’d never get it back again. They were as slippery as a fish, these worms. And strong.
The Mother ordered him to attack the shining Koramite. But he dared not move, dared not let go.
How do I stop the worms? he cried to her.
There was no answer.
His mind raced. Why could he not pry the worm open? It was intricate and oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place it. It was like no beast he’d encountered before.
The worm in his arm curled and another piece of him tattered. A clump of soil fell to the cave floor.
No! He had to stop it. He could not bear to think of his little girl being eaten.
The worm in his belly quickly slithered up toward one of his stomachs.
Creators, he prayed in his mind, if you have any mercy at all-
And then he realized where he’d seen the weave before: it was him. It was woven with some of the same patterns as he was.
Yes, he listened to the song of the worm in his arm, its trilling and thrum. He knew this weave. And with that knowledge came the knowledge of how to break it.
And break it he did. With a great tug he yanked the first worm out of his arm.
He punched a hole into his gut with the tips of his free fingers. The second worm was not hard to find. It had paused by one of his stomachs.
Hunger pushed his fingers in deeper and grabbed the second worm. It fought him, wriggling with violence, but he knew its secrets now and withdrew it from his body. In moments he held both teeth in front of him.
The weaves were beautiful, curling in the light. Beautiful and deadly. He grasped them tightly, found their weak points, and attacked. It was only a moment and they were unraveling like a spool of thread. Their curling slowed, their song wavered. And then they stopped altogether.
The Mother commanded him to her.
I’m coming, he said. But he was talking to his wife and daughter, deep in the Mother’s cave, still caught in his stomach. I’m coming!
Argoth watched the woman catch Hogan’s arm midstrike, preventing his blow.
Hogan pushed her back against the wall, throttling her. The lines of his body blurred at the edges, blurred even her form. She was choking. Her ribbon familiars seemed to shudder with a sympathetic pain.
For a brief moment her visage flickered. One moment she was a woman whose face shone with such beauty it almost took Argoth’s breath. The next, the woman was gone, and in her place was something horrible with a round sucker mouth full of teeth that looked like it belonged on a leech or lamprey. Her undulating creatures seemed to swim with less vigor for a moment. And then the goddess was back.
She held a pointed weapon in her hand. With a quick jab she thrust it at Hogan’s gut. There was a flash, but it didn’t look as if it had penetrated the mantle.
Argoth began to believe they might win this fight.
But then the monster flickered in the corner of his eye and Argoth turned. It held up the two hag’s teeth in its rough hands.
Argoth watched in dismay as the teeth stilled their movements. Then the monster crushed the teeth and threw the lifeless twists of metal to the dust.
“Hogan!” Argoth yelled in warning.
But it did no good. Hogan was too focused on the woman.
The monster charged. With three enormous strides it covered the distance between it and Hogan. Then it dropped its shoulder and crashed into Hogan, its large bulk hurling him away from the woman.
Argoth wanted desperately to join in the battle. But the crown yet drew from him. He would be surprised if he had enough energy to walk.
Hogan turned on the monster. With deadly violence, he struck it in the head with his stone.
The monster reeled to one side.
Argoth marveled at the power of Hogan’s blow. He’d seen the dreadmen attack this thing. He’d seen the Skir Master. None had come close to this.
Hogan followed with another blow, the very air seeming to bend before him.
The monster fell back to the floor.
There was more in those blows than the simple force of stone. The mantle was at work. He could see the stone glistening with the power of it.
The ribbons of light swirled about the room. A number still clung to Hogan, and Argoth could see they’d eaten partway through the mantle.
Hogan raised the stone once more and suddenly jerked back.
The woman had penetrated the mantle with her weapon. It stuck deep in Hogan’s back.
He twisted around and caught her with an elbow.
She flew backward, but Hogan dropped to one knee. He tried to rise, but the monster scuttled over and fell upon him. It ripped the stone away from his grasp.
Hogan struggled. He delivered two more mighty blows to the monster, but they were not what they had once been. Argoth could feel a weakening in the binding between him and the crown. The monster caught the second blow in its rough hand, and wrapped Hogan in its long arms. Then it took him down to the floor in a full body hold. Hogan thrashed, but he did not break free.
The woman walked up to Hogan, a number of her shining school of light still writhing, hissing, and whispering about her. She reached down and clutched at the golden square of the crown.
Hogan twisted in the monster’s grip.
Argoth felt the woman through the bond of the crown. It felt like something gnawing on his bones. She was breaking the crown.
How was this possible? This was a victor’s crown. It was supposed to be impenetrable. And then he realized the crown was, but the bond was another matter entirely.
The bond suddenly changed. The harmony that sang through him departed, replaced by something painfully off-key. Then the bond snapped altogether.
The Creek Widow cried out.
Argoth felt a great gust of his essence whirl up and away. The break had rent him. In panic, he tried to close up the leak.
Hogan grunted and struggled once more against the monster’s grip.
Argoth stemmed the break. A portion of his strength returned, but it felt as if a sword had just sliced through him.
The woman ripped the crown from Hogan’s head and tossed it aside. It landed only a pace or two from Talen.
The monster squeezed Hogan tighter, then shook him. And as it did, sparks of light fell from Hogan like pieces of ash to the floor.
“Unruly beast,” the woman said to Hogan. Her shimmering school drew around her, but not so tightly as before, for she was visible in their midst. She felt the side of her face where Hogan struck her with the chain.
She turned to the monster. “Hunger. Take him there.” She motioned to a place next to the rough figures on the floor.
The monster changed its hold on Hogan to clasp him firmly in one arm and got to its feet. Hogan struggled, but to no avail. The monster dragged him to the earthen bodies lying in their horrible rows on the other side of the chamber.
“That one will do,” said the woman.
The monster stopped and lay Hogan next to a rock and clay figure with a vicious muzzle. Splotches of dead grass sprouted from the side of the figure’s head and chest.
The woman moved close to the monster. She hovered over it. “This,” she said, “will be your first child. He’ll be more aware than you were, have more human memories from the start, be more intelligent, more powerful. You were a mishmash of many things; I couldn’t recover you whole. Not with the binding your original master had put upon you. But he is unfettered and pure.”
What was she talking about? Fear rose in Argoth’s mind.
“Separate the man,” she said. “Put his soul and Fire into the body of earth.”
At first Argoth could not believe his ears. Then the shock rolled over him. She was transferring Hogan’s essence-Fire and soul-to one of the still creatures on the floor.
“No!” he cried. “Stop!”
The woman turned to them. “You all will serve me,” she said, “with a lesser binding or with one of rock and stone. In your current bodies or that of another. I am now your master.”
Hogan struggled in the monster’s grasp. “Ke!” he called out. “River!”
Ke was already charging. But how could he? The breaking of the bond had nearly crippled Argoth. Argoth marveled at the strength in the boy.
Ke held Hogan’s chain in his hand. In a blinding motion, he drew back and struck at the monster with terrible ferocity. The chain wrapped around the monster’s neck.
Ke grabbed the chain with both hands and yanked it backward. Such a move would have ripped the head off a normal man. The monster jerked back, but it did not loosen its grip on Hogan. Instead, it reached up with one hand and tore the chain out of Ke’s grasp. Then it struck him with it full in the face. Ke fell to the floor.
“No!” shouted Talen. He held a knife aloft and charged.
The monster turned slightly when Talen got close and struck out in an almost lazy fashion. The blow made a sickening sound and sent Talen flying backward to land sharply on his side.
Talen gasped, rolled over, and tried to catch his breath.
The monster turned back to Hogan.
“Please,” said River, her collar still circling her neck. “We can come to an agreement.” But the woman paid her no mind.
“Nothing!” Hogan shouted. “Give her nothing!”
The monster covered half of Hogan’s face and head with one hand. It put its other hand on the face of the earthen figure.
The woman turned to the rest of them and spoke. Her voice carried like soothing music into his mind. “You cannot hide the one that was conceived and developed by my power.”
She held something up. It was the wisterwife charm Argoth’s sister had found on the chair in her bedroom. “Where is the one I planted? Where is the one that wore my might?”
Her words confused him. The one she planted?
Legs suddenly came shuffling in through the entrance to the chamber, feeling the wall as he went. “Sugar?” he called.
“You are such wild creatures,” said the woman. “Such difficult things to manage.” She motioned at Legs. “You fooled my servant with your ploy, but you cannot fool me.”
The ribbons of light obscured her face for a moment. “A new order is arising here,” said the woman. “One that hasn’t been seen in ages. The master that leads this harvest will rule empires. You will bring him to me.”
Argoth looked at Talen, who was holding his side in pain. Argoth’s mind raced. His sister, Hogan’s wife, had conceived wearing that weave. She had worn it through the whole pregnancy as the boy ripened in her belly. She had placed it upon Talen from the day of his birth.
They had all suspected he would be a prodigy: a restorer of lost knowledge, a champion. A gift from the Creators to help them fight their enemies.
He looked at the weave. Dear gods, what had they done? His mind snagged on something she had said: “this harvest,” she had said.
A great foreboding rose up in him. Snippets of ancient tales and lore flashed in his mind. Tales of devouring. He’d thought they were figurative. But he now realized they were literal.
“I have been calling,” the woman said. “I know he’s alive. I can feel him. He should have heard me. He should have come. But instead you hide him.”
“Lies!” shouted the Creek Widow.
“We shall see,” said the woman.
The monster turned back to Hogan and the earthen figure on the floor. Then the creature covered Hogan’s face with its massive hand.
Hogan twisted, trying to wriggle away, but he could not. He cried out and grasped the monster’s forearm.
“Be careful,” said the woman.
Hogan arched his back; he struck violently at the monster’s arm. The schools of light moved furiously, shining, shimmering, swirling around the woman, around the monster, around Hogan and the figure on the floor. Hogan jerked once, twice.
Argoth was paralyzed.
How could he fight this being? How could anyone when they didn’t even know what she was? The only thing he did know was that she was full of malice and that she wanted Talen. For what purpose, he could not guess. But she wanted him. And so she must not have him.
Argoth could not save Hogan, but he could rescue Talen from her.
He turned to River, who had almost worked the collar off her neck. “There is no way out,” he said. Even if they could find their path in the dark, they could not run fast enough to escape the monster. They could not fight it or its master with lore. “I used to think we could fight the thralls, but we cannot. Better to die free than live a slave to some horrible purpose in which we deliver our kind up on platters.”
River paused. He could see the anxiety in her bruised face.
“I do not have the strength, so you must deny her the one thing she desires. Put Talen beyond her reach. And then eliminate the rest of us.”
River’s eyes grew wide in dismay.
“I beg you,” he said. “Tell me another way.”
Death was their only escape. He wasn’t prepared to go through that doorway, but who ever really was? He thought of his wife, his daughters, and wondered if they still lived. He could not protect them now. He thought of Nettle lying on that table and the sacrifice that Argoth had recklessly wasted. Grief welled up in him.
He could see River felt that same grief. Her mouth was a line of grim determination. Her eyes brimmed with angry tears.
River nodded. Then she slipped the collar ever so slightly to the left, gave it a smart tug, and broke it free.
The woman’s words reverberated through Talen. They stroked and caressed him. Every time she spoke he was filled with a small elation. He wondered if she were one of the old gods. And yet, there was Da, lying in the dust.
Da jerked. Beneath the monster’s hand, he screamed. And then the screaming stopped. Da’s body relaxed, and his arm dropped to the floor.
“No!” Talen cried out. “No.” His ribs were on fire. They cut like knives every time he took a breath. Talen tried to stand and gasped from the pain.
The woman was cooing, her shining escort swimming about the monster kneeling between Da and the clay figure on the floor.
He needed to stop this. The crown lay in the dust within his reach. It still glittered as it had upon Da’s brow. He clutched at his side, crawled forward, and picked it up.
A vast power stirred within. It was alive as the Creek Widow had said. He could feel its music. A small thread of peace welled up in him. He could feel the power, but he was blocked from it as if a heavy iron door stood fast in his way. What was more, Talen had no idea what to do with this weave. He knew no lore, only the bestowing of Fire River had taught him. The crown was useless to him.
He looked up at the Creek Widow for help, but she was on her hands and knees as if recovering from a mighty blow. He turned to Uncle Argoth. “Help me,” he mouthed.
“I’m sorry,” Uncle Argoth said, his face full of despair.
Talen clutched the crown. There had to be a way, but he could not think.
Through the ribbons of light, he watched a thick blackness pass from Da into the monster’s arm.
Da’s leg shuddered.
The blackness rose into the monster’s forearm. It reached its elbow.
Talen could not speak. Was that the essence of Da’s soul?
A moment passed. Another. The blackness rose almost to the monster’s shoulder.
“Well done,” the woman said. “Well done.”
Talen felt the praise in those words and craved it.
The monster removed its now black hand from Da’s face, and Da’s head flopped to one side.
“Da,” Talen said, horror slithering itself about him.
The monster held its ink-black arm aloft, then it punched it into the belly of the figure lying on the floor. It knelt there until Talen realized the blackness was leaching out of the monster’s arm and into the clay belly of the second monster.
Talen could barely whisper. “No,” he said in a small voice. “No.”
An eternity passed, and then the monster withdrew its fist. The blackness was gone.
The earthen body upon the floor stirred. Its hideous mouth opened as if taking a breath. Then it turned its awful head to look Talen in the face.
Talen recoiled.
He could not breathe. Could not speak.
They had killed Da, used him to animate that creature.
The woman turned to them. She reached up, her escort shimmering about her.
Talen’s attention was drawn to her hands. They were smoky, flickering. Almost like that of a wraith. He had not noticed this before.
“Your former masters were lax and allowed untamed elements into the populace. So I shall educate you. There is a great order of beings. This is the nature of creation. Humans have mastered many things, but not all. There are greater powers still. I will protect you from all takers. Serve me, and I will give you knowledge and power beyond what you can imagine. I shall raise you and crown you as Divines to your people. Think of all you could do with such power. Just bring me the master of the harvest.”
Her words were as smooth as silver. She was so beautiful, so convincing. A scrap of a memory came to him. And he realized that when he was a child, he’d dreamt of this woman, of the bands of living light. He remembered the joy of those dreams. So long ago. Before Mother had died.
Part of him wanted to bask in her radiance. But there was a part of Talen that resisted her, part of him roiling with revulsion. If he could only don the crown, perhaps he could do something. But the power of the crown was beyond him.
“So I shall ask again,” the woman said. She held up the wisterwife charm. “Where are you hiding the one that bore my might?” Her words caressed Talen like silk. If he had known the truth, he would have told her.
But perhaps…
The charm, the dreams, the words River and the Creek Widow had spoken to him-they all roiled in his mind. His mother had discovered, working in the fiber of his body, strange and intricate patterns of power. “Twisted,” River had said. “Pruned and grafted for a great purpose,” the Creek Widow had said.
They had all suspected it was for some greater good. But none of them could have imagined this.
It’s me, he thought. I am the one she seeks. With a clarity that rang like a bell, Talen felt the truth of it. It sounded in his very bones.
But what was he? Was he even human? He felt the panic of standing next to a high precipice and knowing he was going to tumble over the edge. He felt the fear of being dragged by a treacherous current far out to the deep and rough waters of a cold sea.
The woman motioned at Da’s body. “He’s cooling even as we speak, but it’s not too late. I can reverse the quickening. Tell me where the master is and you shall save your friend.”
He could save Da. Talen’s world was gone, replaced by this nightmare. But he could save Da.
His mind told him this was true. But in his heart was a warning.
He looked over at River. Her face was wracked with grief and fear. She shook her head, indicating he should say nothing. He noticed she’d freed herself of the collar, which meant she was probably working her lore, multiplying her powers. Even so, what could she do that Da as a victor could not? Her attack would be as futile as Ke’s had been.
“Don’t listen,” said Uncle Argoth. “She means to put us up like so much smoked meat.”
“That is true,” the woman said. “But this is the order of things. You love and cherish your cattle, your sheep, your beasts. But in the end you feed off of them. Why should it be any different with us? Besides, you will fare better under my management than you ever could on your own. Your people will grow old in peace. You yourself will live to the age of a tree, doing, if you decide, much good. You will protect those most dear to you. You will put down injustice and grind your enemies beneath your feet. You will heal sickness in children, cattle, and herb. Peace and fatness will reign in these valleys and hills, these shores and mountains, until the end of your days. This is what I give you-the power to bless.”
The joy of her vision overwhelmed Talen. Indeed, he thought, why should they fight her? Is this not what every man and woman desired? The good he could do was unimaginable. And how could he be so ungrateful when she was offering him the means to save Da?
Again, revulsion roiled in him. The vision faltered. Was she lying?
He looked at Da lying in the dust. He could save Da. He could do good. And if they didn’t pick up the reins she offered, surely someone else would. Someone like Fabbis who would rule with cruelty.
Her words filled him with hope, and he made his decision.
“I am the one,” he said. “It is me you seek.”
“No, Talen!” Uncle Argoth shouted. “She twists life. She will steal your will.”
“On the contrary,” the woman said.
Her countenance shined upon Talen and it made him glad.
“An overseer must take the position freely or not at all,” said the woman. “It must be so. Thralls do not endure. They are creatures destined for madness and wrath. And when a creature’s wrath is full, there is nothing left to do but cut it down for the devouring. Thralls are used for those who fight, but not for those who rule. And it’s best that humans rule other humans. It’s a matter of trust.”
“She lies,” said Uncle Argoth. “You can fight her.”
“Does not a dog glory in the praise of its master? Has it not been bred to do so? The world of men was domesticated ages ago. Your very nature makes you dependent on us. The only difference between you and your dogs is the genius with which you were bred.” She turned to Talen. “You were woven to work with me without impediment. Your only taskmaster will be my approbation.”
The woman came to him in her beauty and shining light.
“Save him,” Talen said and pointed at Da.
“All in good time,” said the woman. “All in good time. First, we shall see if you are what you claim to be.”
Yes, he thought. That was right. But underneath it all he knew it was not. Da was dying. Every second would count.
“You have been bred to wield power impossible to others. We will raise an army from the very earth,” said the woman. “And you will command it.”
She approached him, reaching out with her smoky hands. Her shining escort enveloped him.
He should have felt fear, but all he felt was the ease of the woman and her smiling eyes. The music in the crown built. He could feel it vibrating in his feet and across his shoulders. But why was he even holding it? He let it drop to the floor. An odd thought came to him: Atra was nothing compared to this woman, yet this woman looked like Atra.
Something probed him. Talen held his doors closed, but he could feel her gnawing all along his essence with something as small and sharp as the teeth of rats.
The probing became stronger.
Reflexively, he shut himself tight as River had taught him.
The woman pulled away and appraised him. He felt her pleasure and it almost sent him to his knees. “You are indeed mine. Mine from the moment you were conceived. The weave has been changed. But it’s nothing that, with time, cannot be undone.”
She spoke in Atra’s voice. Looked at him with Atra’s eyes. Except they weren’t Atra’s. They were at once more alien and more captivating than Atra’s could ever be.
Another wave of pleasure washed over him. He looked at Da’s body. It was not right to have such wondrous feelings. It was wicked. It was an abomination. And yet he could not deny the power of them.
“In time you will become as great as the Goat King himself.”
Suddenly a music inside him swelled. It sang in his blood and bones. He thought it was the crown, but then he remembered he’d dropped that. For a brief moment the fog in his mind cleared away. The woman’s voice fell flat.
Talen looked at her. Gone were the luminous eyes, the elegant neck and brow. Gone the alluring lips. In their place were black pits for eyes and a sucker mouth full of sharp teeth.
He recoiled.
An illusion-she was not one of the old gods. Not a benefactor. It was as if a huge blast of cold wind had just awakened him. His mind had been foggy, but now was crystal sharp.
And yet the desire to serve her seeped back through him.
“Yes,” said the woman. “He too was a master of the harvest that served my mother ages ago. For a time, the populace under his care yielded marvelous results. You will be his heir.”
The Goat King’s heir…
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-that longing was her doing.
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 eyeblink she sped from 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 stepped 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 would crack his skull. At the very least it would snap his neck bones.
River’s face was twisted with fury and grief.
Talen had no time to react.
But the blow did not land.
The monster rushed forward and, in a lightning strike, caught her ankle. River’s foot stopped a breath away from his face.
The monster twisted her leg, and River fell to the ground.
“Another one,” 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,” said Uncle Argoth. He made a small movement with his hand indicating Talen should come close. In his hand, close to his leg, he held a stone.
Why did they want to kill him?
The answer came: they believed they couldn’t fight this creature. They didn’t have the power.
But he was something else. “A body,” River had said, “can 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.
No, they couldn’t fight the woman. But perhaps he could.
Yes, he could. He didn’t have much of a chance. But something was better than nothing at all.
Argoth beckoned. Talen looked again at the stone in his Uncle’s hand. Even if he could get close to Argoth, the monster would be watching. It would foil Uncle Argoth as it had River.
He knew what they wanted-they wanted the woman’s tool destroyed. But his plan could do that. He might not be a victor. But he could fight despite his limitations. And he would do it in a way that would put the woman on her heels.
The monster still held River’s ankle as if she were some child’s toy.
Talen stepped around them, toward the woman. “I choose to serve you.”
Her pleasure rushed through him; it washed him from heel to crown, an ecstasy like he’d never experienced. His resolve faltered. He wanted so desperately to serve.
“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. Of course, part of him didn’t care what she was. Most of him didn’t care.
“No!” shouted Argoth. “No good can come from this. You cannot lie with sheep and sire men.”
“Hunger,” the woman commanded.
“Trust me,” Talen said again. But he didn’t know if he could trust himself.
He turned to his sister and saw her dismay. He looked into her lovely, grief-stricken eyes. “I love you, sister,” he said. “I will see you in brightness.”
Her face fell.
“No,” said Uncle Argoth, but the heat was gone from his voice.
The living light about the woman reached out to 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. It left her there and strode over to Talen.
Talen flexed his essence. River had told him to practice closing himself every moment he could. He had done this. He knew how to open and close himself. He only needed to fling himself wide at the right moment.
The Mother spoke into Hunger’s mind. As soon as we have the master 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 tensed. The monster’s hands were rough with stone. But more unsettling still was the feeling of something probing along the seams of his being.
The monster readjusted its grip.
Talen prepared to fling himself wide.
Then he was lost, floating, in his body, but out of it.
Panic rose in him. He’d missed his chance.
“River,” he called.
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. 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. However, it didn’t matter now as much as it had only moments before. He just 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.
“You please me,” said the woman.
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.
“Come!” he shouted into the roar of noise. “Come and take me!” He threw open the fabric of his being and poured himself forth.
The Fire coursed from him through 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.
But 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.
“What is he doing?” the woman asked in warning. “Stop it. Close him up.”
Talen ripped the remanants 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 white 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.
Power rolled off the boy and filled the room. He was a storm, and Hunger was desperately trying to devour it all.
The amount of Fire roaring through Hunger 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 said.
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 flowed forth. The Fire engulfed 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.
The monster’s arm and chest were now as white as ash.
Talen no longer watched the Fire. He was the Fire. He was a furnace, an inferno, a roaring, molten sea.
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.
A patch on the monster’s face turned ash gray. Then all flashed a blinding white.
There was a deafening roar.
The woman screamed.
A huge blast cracked Talen’s world.
The shock tore the monster into pieces, flung Talen like a leaf, 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 smashed into the walls.
Talen reeled and saw a body below him.
He expected to slam into the ground, but did not. He was floating above the scene.
He looked closer at the body on the floor, and realized it was his.
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 him 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 the mother’s binding.”
Talen tried to pull away, but couldn’t.
“Quickly,” it said.
A piece of the creature before him struggled, 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 that was because this 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.
“Quickly,” it repeated. “She keeps them in the room where she sleeps.” Then it 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 ears.
The monster turned as if alarmed.
Something black darted past it.
“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 his whole world went white.