Part 20 (2/2)

Men yelled above. There was a crash; something heavy tumbled down the upper stairway.

”They're not going to be able stop it,” said Argoth.

Hogan's face twisted in surprise. ”Lumen,” he said.

”What?”

”Lumen's soul.”

Lumen, the Divine who had overseen the Nine Clans. The Divine who had gone missing last year. Is this how he had disappeared, taken by this rough creature? Or was this an experiment gone awry?

Another crash sounded from above.

Argoth raced out of the room and up the stairs. Smoke from the straw fire in the room rolled up along the ceiling, choking him. So he ran up into the darkness, crouched low to keep under the smoke. Towards the top of the first flight of stairs he almost stepped on the Hog where it must have fallen from the creature's leg. He called back to Hogan to pick it up, then burst into the first cellar and heard the clamor of many men above.

He ran up the next flight of stairs. On his way up, he found two guards lying on the stone steps. One was dead, splayed out in a horrible pose. The other lay on his back, moaning. Argoth sprang past the men to the main floor above.

He emerged into the back room and found that the battle had moved outside where men with torches and pikes struggled and shouted. The bulk of the men surged to one side as if hit by a large wave.

He'd been able to hack off the thing's hand. Of course, it had done as much good as chopping a worm in two. But he'd much rather face that thing in pieces. And if all they could do was dismember it, then that's what they must do.

He charged outside. A number of the men shouted a warning and pointed at something on the wall.

Argoth turned. The thing climbed the wall like a dark, three-legged spider, s.h.i.+elding Purity against its chest like a mother might her newborn babe.

The half moon made silhouettes of a number of guards on the wall above. Many took aim and shot their arrows. Others threw spears.

Those would do nothing to the creature, but they could kill Purity. If this was her monster, that might dissolve its bindings. But they needed a bigger weapon.

At various points upon the wall stood seven ballista. The shafts from those machines could skewer a horse.

”The ballista!” he shouted up to the men. ”Turn the ballista!”

The guards manning the one closest to the creature began to turn the war machine.

Hogan appeared at Argoth's side with the Hog. ”It's hers, isn't it?”

”I don't know” asked Argoth.

”We'll soon find out,” said Hogan.

The creature moved with such speed he knew the ballista men were only going to get one shot.

”Take it when it crests the top!” Argoth shouted.

More archers arrived and the thrumming of their bows made a chorus. He could hear the ballista men on the wall cranking their engine back. One five-foot, iron-headed dart from these machines could transfix several armored men. The only weapon more powerful would be one of the war wolves, casting a ma.s.sive stone. But those would be ineffective against such a small, mobile target.

The creature neared the top.

”Lead it!” a man shouted.

The moon suddenly shone through a gap in the ragged clouds and lit up the wall. It was hideous how the thing moved, like an insect. Then it reached the top and raised itself up, its back bristling with arrows.

”Now!” Argoth shouted. ”Shoot now!”

The men pulled the release lever. The ballista made a loud thwonk. The creature took one ma.s.sive step upon the wall, a dark, hulking figure, Purity's naked form like a small pale flower held at its chest, then, in the next moment, both were swept away.

”Lords,” said Hogan.

”Quickly,” Argoth shouted. ”To the bailey!”

By now most of the fortress guard had awakened and come to the call to arms. Torches burned in many hands. A quarter of a cohort, almost 150 men, rushed to the gate of the inner wall, Argoth and Hogan following behind. They disappeared through the tunnel, emerged in the bailey on the other side, then rushed to the spot where the creature should have fallen.

Argoth expected at any moment to hear the men in front call out that they'd found the creature, but no such shout arose. Then one soldier lifted the ma.s.sive ballista dart into the air.

”Scan the walls!” someone shouted. Men stood back to examine the face of the moonlit walls. A group of soldiers charged forward, beyond the location where the ballista dart was found.

Argoth grabbed a torch from a soldier and stepped up to examine the tip of the dart. It was clean. Not a drop of blood. Not a speck of dirt.

He looked at the ground where the dart had fallen. Nothing heavy had landed here. He looked up at the wall. He knew the soldiers searching the rest of the bailey would not find the creature. It was gone, vanished into the night just as it had come.

”Purity,” he said. ”What have you wrought?”

17.

Soul Meat THE DART FROM the ballista might have pa.s.sed through Hunger like stick through a pile of sand, but the Mother had created him with more than dirt. He had a skeleton of wood and stone. Of course, it was not just wood. Not simple stone. Whatever power the Mother controlled had bound him. He wasn't just a piece of carpentry, for then the ballista dart would have shattered his chest. But it didn't. The dart stuck in his ribs and the force of the impact threw him backwards.

But it did not throw him directly away from the wall and into the bailey. Instead, it cast him off the rampart and into the bottom wall of the h.o.a.rdings used to sweep attackers off the slopes and cliffs on the back side of the fortress. And that saved the sleth woman, for Hunger was able to keep hold of her with one hand and grasp one of the h.o.a.rding timbers and swing up underneath with the other.

Hundreds of feet below him the sea sparkled in the moonlight. The waves surged and crashed upon the rocks, spraying forth great gouts of moonlit foam. Hunger would have survived the long drop to the sea, but the sleth woman would have broken on impact.

He heard the men yelling, and he felt . . . pain? It was not sharp, but there was an echo of hurt. And then he realized it was not him, but the sleth woman. He could feel the emotions roiling inside her body, feel them like one might feel a puppy thras.h.i.+ng in a sack. He realized he'd always been able to feel the souls of his victims, smell those emotions. He wanted to devour her, but he couldn't do it here. And he didn't dare climb down the cliff, for the men would see him, and then she would die. So Hunger skittered like a spider along the belly of the h.o.a.rdings until he was on the other side of the fortress, far away from the shouting.

He laid the sleth woman onto the rock and spa.r.s.e gra.s.s that grew here. He had probed the collar down in the cellar of the tower, but could not find its clasp. It was said only a Divine could remove a King's Collar, only they knew the lore of unbinding. But did he not have magic also? He examined the collar again. There was no break-the collar seemed to have been woven around the woman's neck. But nothing was that perfect. He could find an opening if he searched slowly.

It seemed he had only just begun, when the Mother stirred again. Hunger bent his concentration, moving faster and faster along the loops and whirls finding nothing, nothing, nothing!

She was coming, he could feel it. Feel her fingers reaching out to his mind.

Panic rose in him. She couldn't have it. She mustn't have it. Then he found a spot that seemed different from the rest, but he couldn't tell for sure if it was the spot of joining. It wasn't a break; it was just a spot.

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