45.

The Grove ARGOTH COULD NOT stop shaking. The tremors came in waves, starting deep within and building until his whole body spasmed. When each wave began, the monster carrying him would hold him tighter to keep him from shaking loose. He thought at first the tremors were signs of his terror at this beast, but the fear of the creature had quickly subsided, and he realized the first wave had come just after the creature had killed the Skir Master.

He suspected the shaking was an effect of the breaking of the bond. What it meant for his survival, he did not know. It might build until, like a case of lockjaw, he died in a horrible contraction. Or it might eventually pa.s.s.

Between tremors he examined the creature, the dark pits of its eyes, the rough edges of its hideous mouth protruding like the spines of a cod, the exposed skeleton of stone. A smattering of tiny, pale, yellow flowers grew across its neck and shoulder. He wondered why they had not wilted and supposed the earth from which they grew was living in its own fashion. At one point in the journey, when the monster stopped to kick a tumbled tree out of its way, a fat b.u.mblebee droned about the monster's head and landed on its shoulder. It had time to probe one of the pale flowers before the monster began running again and the bouncing shook it off.

Argoth could not understand why the creature had taken Legs. Perhaps he would deliver Argoth to the master and then reward itself with Legs as a meal. Whatever the reason, in between spasms, Argoth talked to Purity's blind boy, soothing him, thinking all the while of Nettle and the sacrifice he'd made-the sacrifice that had been wasted on his cursed, foolhardy scheme.

The creature kept, for the most part, to the woods. Argoth knew there was no use calling for help. He'd tried, and the monster had clamped a rough hand over his mouth. Besides, this was not a weave of flesh and blood. How it lived, he could not guess. What he did know was that it could only be undone by special lore. Lore of which he had no knowledge. He could only hope that the Creek Widow had mustered the strength of the Grove. He was spent, but there still was a chance the Grove could defeat this thing.

The tremors continued for the many miles, but then the time between them began to grow. Perhaps he would survive the breaking of his bond to the Skir Master after all.

The monster carried them along a ridge of hills. It came to a small bluff, covered in trees, and jumped down to the ground a few yards below. They landed with a thump, and when the creature turned, Argoth saw why they'd come here.

Before them a cave opened into the rock. The monster repositioned them in its arms and strode into the darkness. It splashed through water, icy spray wetting Argoth's exposed feet and face.

"We're in a cave," Argoth said to Legs.

"I know, Zu," said Legs. "Please, unless you see something, it is important that I listen and smell."

Argoth startled at the mild rebuke, but thought perhaps this is how the blind dealt with the unknowns in their world.

The monster climbed hill and valley, taking them ever deeper into the bowels of the rock. His tremors lessened. After some time, Argoth saw a bluish light up ahead. He mentioned this to Legs who said, "I don't know that I can keep the orientation points all in my head."

Orientation points? Then he realized: the boy was keeping a map of sounds and smells in his mind. Argoth looked at him with new admiration.

As the monster jogged, the light grew stronger. Soon Argoth could make out the walls of the pa.s.sage they were in. The monster took them past a chamber containing a large pool of black water, past pillars, past openings to other dark pa.s.sageways. The light grew, they turned a corner, and Argoth found himself in the room that was the source of the light.

The light came from the dead body of a large, pallid beast with an eyeless head. There was no odor of rotten flesh, which meant it must have been recently killed. It lay on the far side of the chamber. It looked like a monstrous salamander, as long as a man, but with a stubby tail and the tusks of a boar. Two vertical cuts ran along its belly. The creature's juices oozed out of the cuts, and when the separate juices ran together, the mixture shone with a white and bluish light. A bowl had been set on the floor beside the creature to capture the fluorescing liquid as it dripped from the creature's side.

Argoth had seen creatures similar to this before. They were called night maws. But those were never longer than a man's hand, and they were rare. That same light shone from two other bowls set in the room. It was not the blinding light of the sun, but an odd light that still left much of the room in shadow.

The monster set Argoth and Legs down.

"No," someone said.

Argoth turned. Chained at even intervals along the wall to his right were Hogan, the Creek Widow, Ke, River, and Purity.

"Not you too," the Creek Widow said again, her voice full of despair.

Argoth's heart sank. He'd hoped, at the very least, that Ke had escaped to call in the last two members of the Grove. But that would not be. There would be no muster.

Purity looked like the walking dead. Hogan did not look much better.

"Legs!" Purity said.

Argoth stepped towards them, but the monster grabbed him by his injured arm and wrenched him to an open set of manacles. Pain shot up Argoth's arm, and he took in a sharp breath.

Legs carefully walked to his mother, hands on front.

The monster stood Argoth a few paces from River and closed the manacled about his ankles, then his wrists. It pa.s.sed a chain through both to a stout ring in the wall then bent two links of the iron with its bare hands to secure Argoth to the ring in the rock. It yanked on the chain to test its strength.

Then the creature gaped open its mouth and coughed. It coughed again and plucked something dark and wet off its tongue. The object writhed like a worm or serpent between the monster's two rough fingers. The thing was as thick as a man's thumb and maybe a foot long.

Argoth backed up against the rock wall.

The monster reached out, steadied Argoth's head with its free hand, then held the wet serpent close to Argoth's throat.

Argoth felt a cold touch at the hollow of his neck. Then the creature slithered up and around and circled his neck.

The monster stepped back.

Argoth braced himself, but nothing happened.

The monster ran a finger along the creature, and then turned and walked over to Legs. He plucked him up from his mother and exited out of an opening in the far side of the chamber by the pallid beast.

"Mother," Legs called from the corridor.

"Be brave, son," she called after him, her voice hoa.r.s.e.

Argoth stood frozen, still expecting the creature about his neck to bite or burn. He reached up carefully and touched it. It was cold and smooth as silk.

"It's a King's Collar of sorts," said the Creek Widow. "At least, none of us can work any power that it doesn't immediately consume."

Argoth looked at each of them in turn-all wore a similar creature.

The Creek Widow shook her head in the pale light. "You were our last hope. We are not going to be able to resist her for long."

Her?

Argoth tested the chains. They were heavy and strong. The weight of them made his injuries throb. And he was cold. Another tremor built in him, the shaking increased. He braced himself, but it faded as quickly as it had come.

"Who is this new enemy?" he asked. "Is it Mokad? Or some rogue soul-eater?"

"Neither," said Hogan. "She is nothing like you have ever seen." Hogan sounded weak. He was covered with bruises and lacerations. The Fir-Noy had obviously tortured him.

"She is looking," the Creek Widow cut in, "for a young male."

"What? Who is this woman?"

"They see a woman," said River. "I see a man."

"She's right," said the Creek Widow. "It's no woman. No human. We are dealing with something else entirely."

"Something very old," said Hogan.

And it was searching for a male. They were talking about Talen. They had to be. Except the creature had cast Talen aside and taken Legs. "But how could she know about him?"

Hogan coughed wetly. "Brother," he said. "We were stewards of a great gift. Rose warned us he was special. We should have known that dark powers would seek to destroy him before he came into his powers and could threaten them. But we were fools."

"Who could have suspected this?" asked the Creek Widow.

"At least he's not here," said River.

"No, but who will train him?" Hogan asked. "Who will hide him? Harnock refused to come. How will he do it alone? His awakening almost killed him." Hogan pulled at the creature about his neck. "It will only be a matter of time before she cracks his ident.i.ty out of us. And that's if he escapes."

And then Argoth realized what else Hogan had just said-the enemy was nothing like he'd ever seen. "You feel awe for this enemy?"

"She is glorious," Hogan said.

Argoth search within himself and felt the awe he'd felt before. "No," he said. "No! These aren't just King's Collars. They're thralls!" He reached up and tore at the creature, but it only constricted tighter. He pulled again, but it was strong as iron. He shuddered, and his heart sank even lower. "Please," he said in a prayer to his ancestors "We cannot end this way."

River pointed toward the side of the chamber where the pallid beast lay. "It is not just us that will be broken."

Something lay on the floor beyond the pallid beast. He'd missed it in the surprise of seeing the Grove. It was a body, crude-featured, and dark. It looked to be made of earth. He saw another figure beyond it, and then another, and another.

"Lords," he said and counted them. There were nine. Nine more horrors like the one that had brought him and Legs to this chamber. They had slightly different shapes-one's head twisted into a point like an onion, another had no discernible head at all, yet another seemed to be made more of withies than stone and gra.s.s, a fourth had exceedingly long arms. But they were all of the same make.

He'd seen what the monster could withstand. He'd seen what it could do to the mightiest of men. A chill ran through him. All this time they'd worried about Bone Faces and Divines while this was happening under their noses. He felt sick.

He looked at the earthen figures, at the rough magic that had been growing in their midst. Despair welled up in him. "The Grove," he said, "is undone."

46.

Mantle and Crown THE TORCH IN Talen's hand spit and hissed as he and Sugar walked farther into the bowels of the ancient warren. With every step, the earthy smell of the monster grew stronger. Sugar held the tooth in front of her in her white-gloved hand, like someone might a knife.

Part of him could not believe they were doing this. Ahead, the pa.s.sageway curved to the right. The walls were not as well preserved here, for stalact.i.tes had grown, and here and there parts of the wall had crumbled to the floor. They stepped around a pile of rock that had caved in from the high ceiling and found a gaping hole in the wall. The hole was big enough to belly through. Big enough for the monster.

They both stopped.

"I really don't want to crawl into that," he said.

She pointed ahead at a scuffle in the dust of the floor. "I don't think we have to."

They skirted the hole and continued on, but as they did Talen swore he saw something move in the dark depths.

"Hide the torch," Sugar said.

Talen turned to her. "What?"

"I think I see a light," she said. "But the torch is ruining my vision. m.u.f.fle the light."

There was nowhere else to hold the torch, but in the hole. So he walked back and thrust it in. And saw nothing but rock. He heaved a sigh of relief, then he turned his head away from the light and stared into the darkness, waiting for his vision to adjust.

A few minutes later, she said, "Do you see it?"

"There's a faint bluish sheen reflecting from the rocks," he said.

Bluish lights had been seen in the caves of the Stone-wights before. Of course, very few who went to investigate the lights ever returned. And the reports of those did seemed to conflict. Some said the lights dashed about like will-o-wisps. Others explained it was just night maws: small lizard-like creatures that made an odd chemical light if they were cut the right way.

"The blue light has always been part of the caves," Talen said. "Might not have anything to do with the monster."

"Or," she said, "it might mean the beast has been there all along and has only recently come out to forage for food."

Talen wondered if the monster was like a lion that killed its prey immediately or like a spider that stunned its meals to let them ripen. Or was it like a leech, draining the life out in small portions? What if this monster had a brood to feed? He imagined a number of rough children wrapping rough limbs about Argoth and Legs, the Creek Widow, draining them until they were nothing more than husks.

The very thought of being eaten sent fear down his legs to the soles of his bare feet. But it didn't matter. They needed to move more quickly. Every minute they hesitated gave whatever was up there more time to devour those it had taken.

They both stood there a moment longer. "We need to pick up the pace," he said.

"Right," she said.

"I think we might have surprise on our side," he said. "We've come a long way; maybe our noise back by the cascade was not heard."

"Let's hope," she said.

Talen pulled the torch out of the wide hole, and they moved forward again. All they needed to do was get one of the teeth into the monster. Or deliver the crude crown to someone who could use it. When it came to it, Talen knew his job would be to throw himself into harm's way to distract the monster. Perhaps into the arms of the monster itself. He did not relish that idea.

Their third torch burned low, and he retrieved the fourth, noting that even if they hurried, the two remaining torches would probably not be enough for the trip back. He lit the fourth torch and dropped the burned one to the floor.

They walked a little farther and the pa.s.sage opened into a chamber that contained a large pool of black water. They skirted the edge of the water and at one point pa.s.sed many small, glowing crablike insects feasting on the remains of a spiny, translucent fish.

The bluish light coming from the end of the corridor grew stronger as did the odd smell. In fact, the smell was so strong he could taste it on the edges of the back of his tongue.

"The light ahead isn't moving," she whispered. "I can see a bend up a head. I think we'll find the source around that corner."

"I'm going to douse the torch," he said. The last thing he wanted was for the monster to know they were coming and the torch would announce them along the walls ahead with its flickering yellow light. Of course, it might already know of their presence and simply be waiting around that bend. And that's why he was going first. Sugar needed to be able to wield the tooth.

"Follow me," he whispered and quietly stepped forward.

He heard something ahead. A human voice? He heard it again. It sounded like River. His heart soared. They were yet alive!

He glanced at Sugar who had heard it as well.