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.