The Dark God: Servant Part 38
"What is it, boy?"
Talen scanned the woods and caught movement out of the side of his eye. He turned.
Iron Boy pulled to a stop, blew his lips, and stamped one foot.
"Where are they?" asked Nettle.
"It's not a they," said Talen. "It's an it."
"Where?"
Talen pointed at a tree in front of them. Something was standing in the boughs about halfway up. It was not a mountain cat. Not nearly that large. Nor was not one of those troublesome monkeys that were expert in stealing everything from knives to fruit. It was about the size of a small dog, hunched, and long-limbed.
He looked closer. It was a light gray, the color of shadow and bark, and its limbs seemed awkward and long. Or maybe it was just the light. "What is that?"
Nettle followed Talen's gaze and stared. "Well, it's kind of hard to say. I can't be sure, but it looks like a tree to me."
"Goh, in the tree. About fifteen feet up that pine. There's something looking at us."
Nettle looked at Talen; he looked back at the tree, squinted, and looked back at Talen again.
"Nothing's there."
"It's right in front of your face."
"Hallucinations." Nettle said. "Maybe those stupid sweet almond abominations did have come-backs."
Talen wasn't seeing things. It was right there.
"I never have this problem with bread pudding," said Nettle.
Whatever it was moved out of the shadows of the trees and into the waning light.
Talen blinked. It was still there.
Iron Boy chuffed.
"See that?" Talen asked. "Iron Boy didn't have any sweet almond."
He had to admit the coloring of the thing made it difficult to see. It put him in mind of insects that camouflaged themselves to look exactly like bark or leaves.
"There's nothing in the tree," said Nettle. "Nothing on the trail. Let's just get home."
Talen flicked the reins and started Iron Boy into a trot. The mule protested and tried to turn away, but Talen gave the reins a good tug to keep him on the road and put Iron Boy in motion.
When they pa.s.sed by the pine, the creature began to move again.
Iron Boy whinnied and picked up his gait.
The creature swung down the limbs of the tree to the pine needles on the road. Then it began scampering after the wagon in an odd, hunched gait, quickly closing the distance.
"You're right," said Talen, "I'm hallucinating."
Because if he wasn't, that meant they'd attracted the attention of a small nightmare. What else could it be? As the thing drew nearer, Talen could more easily discern the eyes, hands, and feet. But they were misshapen. The nose was flat and crooked. The fingers too long.
There were creatures not wholly of this world. There were the mighty skir that the Divines enthralled; there were the souls of the dead. But there were also other things, some of which could, under certain circ.u.mstances, be seen with the naked eye. This thing matched the descriptions of one of those. Talen had never seen one before, but he'd heard about them. They fed upon the Fire of the weak and dying. Like the creatures that ate carrion of the flesh, they were attracted by death and disease. They shadowed the edges of armies and hid in cellars and that thatch roofs of villages smitten by pestilence. They did not flock in great numbers like crows and ravens. At least, he'd never heard tell of anyone seeing more than a handful together at once. But did numbers matter? When they got a hold of you, they burrowed in like ticks to gorge upon your Fire. And like ticks they were hard to dislodge and sometimes left bits of themselves behind.
G.o.dsweed was supposed to keep them at bay which is why soldiers smoked themselves with it before battle. Drinking it in a tea was also supposed to help, but such a tea gave men horrible cramps. Talen reached up and felt the G.o.dsweed braid on his arm. Even wearing the herb was supposed to have an effect.
Iron Boy trotted down the road, nervously turning his head to the left then right so he could get a better view of what was behind him.
Talen looked back again and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The odd-limbed thing was only a few paces behind them.
"Cousin," Talen said, "I believe that we've just attracted ourselves a fright."
At that moment the creature closed the final distance, then grabbed the wagon bed with one long-fingered hand and disappeared underneath.
30.
Secrets "IT'S UNDER THE WAGON," Talen said.
Iron Boy kicked and jerked into a canter.
"Will you shut up," Nettle said. "You're giving me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s."
Iron Boy tossed his head. He might bolt, and it would not do to lose control of the wagon, so Talen braced himself, but he felt like he did after an exceedingly hard day's worth of work. And then such a wave of weariness fell upon him that he could not keep his eyes open. He sagged into Nettle.
Nettle elbowed him back to his senses. "What are you doing?"
"I think the come-backs have finally worked their way through," Talen said. "Take the reins. I've got to lie down."
"What about your fright?" asked Nettle.
Talen looked down at the boards beneath his feet. Frights did not have power to steal from a healthy man. He and Nettle had nothing to fear. And panicking might only lead to them crashing the wagon. Besides, they had G.o.dsweed with them.
"It's gone," said Talen. "A vapor of my mind."
"Lords and lice," Nettle said, "I've never heard of come-backs like this. We've got to get you to River."
Talen wasn't going to argue. "Sure," he said. Then he handed the reins to Nettle and half-climbed, half-fell into the wagon bed.
He rode that way, flat on his back, looking up at the tops of the pines and the darkening sky beyond. Nettle drove too fast. Once, Talen almost b.u.mped completely out of the wagon bed. But he couldn't bring himself to object. Nettle kept turning around to look at him. At one point he reached down to feel Talen's forehead for fever, then turned back and spurred Iron Boy even faster.
Talen said nothing. The moon and the stars shone through the breaks in the tops of the trees. After a time he realized something cold lay on his ankle. Talen looked down. There, squatting in the back corner of the wagon bed was the fright. It was a hideous thing, all twisted and gray like a piece of knotty driftwood. One of its long fingers touched Talen on the bare skin of his ankle.
He kicked, and the thing released him, but it soon stretched out its finger once again.
"Nettle!" he said.
But Nettle did not turn.
Then Talen remembered the G.o.dsweed charm about his arm. Maybe he could brandish it and chase the thing off. He yanked on the charm, but it would not tear free, and the knot was suddenly too complicated for his fingers. He was so very tired. The touch of the fright was so very cold. It wasn't supposed to touch him, not with the G.o.dsweed. So maybe this wasn't a fright. Or maybe it was, and G.o.dsweed didn't have the virtue everyone claimed it did.
They b.u.mped along the road, and the creature reached out with another finger.
Talen kicked again. But he could not kick a third time-he was exhausted and in a cold sweat. His thirst was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. There was not enough spittle to even wet his tongue, much less swallow. And so he let the thing's cold fingers wrap about him, wondering if frights took more than Fire.
Iron Boy trotted at a good clip for some time. Talen lay there, the fright at his leg. Then the wagon pa.s.sed under some trees Talen recognized. He recognized the run of the slope off to his left.
Nettle drove the wagon across the stream and up the bank on the far side, then into the yard. But he did not slow quickly enough and almost side-swiped the well. When he finally got Iron Boy to stop, he turned around and looked down at Talen. "Goh, you look rotted through. This isn't come-backs. This is some plague. Can you stand?"
"I can get up," said Talen.
But he couldn't. He could hardly move. His lower left leg was ice. The fright had elongated its fingers, split and multiplied them, and wrapped them around his calf. It looked as if the spidering root of a young tree had attached itself to him.
Nettle called out for help. Then he jumped into the wagon bed and helped Talen sit up. The fright moved slightly, but it did not disengage.
"The fright," Talen said.
"Yes," said Nettle, then he looped his arms underneath Talen's and around his chest and dragged him to the back of the wagon. He pulled a lever and dropped the back gate of the bed, then in one fluid movement jumped out and pulled Talen over his shoulder like a sack of meal.
"River!" Nettle called.
Talen's head hung low. The fright still clung to him with one of its odd hands. Talen kicked, but the fright just swayed with the motion. Then Nettle pushed the front door of the house open, and Talen found himself in the main room. River stood from where she'd been sitting at the table. The candlelight shone off the beads about her neck. In her hands, she held clippings of Da's hair that she'd been braiding into an intricate decoration.
Talen looked for the hatchlings and saw the door to the cellar lay flat, shut up tight.
When River looked up, Talen saw her face go from annoyance to concern. "What's happened?" she asked.
"It's an overdose of come-backs," said Nettle. "Or worse. Earlier, he's a picture of liveliness-blinding fast, wrestling Fabbis to the ground, leaping to the tops of the trees. Now look at him. Nothing more than smelly dishrag. And he's seeing frights."
"I need something to drink," said Talen.
"He's drunk a barrel today. I've never had to stop so many times waiting for a body to relieve himself."
River cleared the table. "Put him here."
"Did the Fir-Noy come here?" asked Talen.
Nettle dumped him on the table.
"I haven't seen any Fir-Noy," said River. She began pulling up the sleeve of Talen's tunic. "Where did Da tie the charm?"
"How did you know he gave me a charm?" asked Talen.
"Where did he tie it?"
"Here," said Talen and lifted the other sleeve. He looked down at his leg. The fright was there, squatting all k.n.o.bby and hideous, staring at him with one of its raisin eyes.
River fingered the braid and cursed. Her face turned grave. "And he talks about risks." She removed the charm and cast it to the floor.
"Who?" asked Talen.
"n.o.body," said River. Then she slid her hand into the collar of his tunic. She had no sooner put her hand to his chest than she gasped and withdrew it.
"He's got the plague," Nettle said. "Doesn't he?"
"Do you have any of the baker's goods left?"
"Three small cakes," said Nettle. "I'll get them." Then he went back outside.
"Has he poisoned me?" asked Talen.
"No," said River. "And it's not Nettle's plague either." She looked at him, and Talen could tell something had happened. She was deciding if she should share some secret with him.
"Goh," he said. "It was the kiss. That girl!" He'd been wrong; they would have to kill her after all. Talen's weariness pressed down upon him even more. "And her familiar has attached itself to my leg."
River said nothing, but of course she wouldn't. Not if the girl had magicked her. He thought of the girl kissing him, and of kissing Atra, and then about being married, and that idiot that was courting River, and then he realized his mind was wandering. He focused on River, and it all came back to him in a rush.
"We'll have to be quick," he whispered.
"What?" said River.
"Quick," said Talen more loudly. "Quick. Kill them, the boy and girl, quick."
At that moment he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the girl standing in the doorway to the back room.
River followed his gaze. "He's out of his mind," she said to her.
"I'll divert her," said Talen. "You clobber her with the pot."
"Be still," River commanded.
Talen looked at the girl for a while, waiting for her to spring. "Playing us like a cat? Is that your pleasure?"
"Sugar," River said. "I need you to fill the mule's watering trough. We're going to need to lay Talen in it. Have Nettle help you drag it in here."
Sugar looked at the two of them, a storm brooding on her face. Talen thought she was going to say something, but she must have decided against it, for she strode across the room and out the door.
"Now's the time," said Talen.