“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.
48
Talen awoke with his eyes closed, wailing in pain.
“Talen,” a voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “Brother.”
It was River. But Talen couldn’t contain his wails.
River stroked his forehead. “Shush,” she said gently. “Shush.”
He gritted his teeth, tried to stop. He panted and then the wailing turned to sobs, great wracking sobs, and tears streaming down his face.
He opened his eyes.
Blood had run out of one of River’s nostrils and dried in the dust on her face. The odd beast light still lit the room behind her, but it had diminished greatly.
“Where’s Da? Ke?”
A weary grief rose in River’s eyes. “Ke is fading fast.”
“And your father,” said the Creek Widow, “let us hope that he has been gathered by the ancestors.” Talen turned and looked at her. She’d tried to wipe it away, but he could see her mouth had been smashed. Dried blood caked the edges of her lips. It caked her gums. She was missing three teeth.
A sob rose in him. But he swallowed it. He could not fathom Da being gone.
Talen closed his eyes and composed himself.
“It wanted me to unravel its stomachs,” he said.
The Creek Widow narrowed her eyes.
“The monster,” said Talen. “Before it put me back.”
“Talen,” Uncle Argoth said, “how did you do it?”
“River had said you could kill a man by giving him too much Fire,” said Talen. “I gave the monster everything.”
“Incredible,” said Uncle Argoth.
The Creek Widow shook her head. “My boy,” she said and took his hand. “My bright, shining boy. You have snatched victory from the jaws of death.”
“But I didn’t,” he said. “The monster put me back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The monster,” said Talen. “It put me back into my body.”
“But the monster lies in pieces,” said Argoth.
“It was there, on the other side. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“This place,” said the Creek Widow, surveying the chamber. “It will take a great many days to understand what went on here.”
“Is the woman gone?” asked Talen.
“Can you feel her inside you?” asked Uncle Argoth.
Talen turned inward. He could not feel her. “I heard her scream,” he said.
“Yes,” said Uncle Argoth. “We heard it also.”
“There were doors between us,” said Talen. He felt inward and could find no trace of that link between him and the woman. “They are gone.”
“Let us hope. But even if she is gone, I do not think her sisters that rule the glorydoms will sit long. To them we are mad bulls broken from the pens and goring the good villagers.”
“Talen,” said River. “Do you think you can stand? We need to make our way out while this odd light lasts.”
“I can stand,” he said. He rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Every joint of him protested in pain. His head swam. But he forced himself up. “I can stand.”
A multitude of what looked to be pale sea kelp littered the chamber floor. “What is that?” he asked.
“The woman’s creatures,” said River.
“Or were they her children?” asked the Creek Widow. “There are simply too many questions.”
Sugar knelt at her mother’s side. She wondered how they would remove her collar.
“Mother,” she said. “They’re gone. We can get you out of here.”
Mother licked her dry and peeling lips. She smiled and reached out to cup Sugar’s face. “You take care of Legs,” she said and winced.
The way she said that carried a finality that frightened Sugar.
“You’re coming with us,” Sugar insisted.
Mother smiled again. “You are a strong girl. I will find your father, and we shall prepare a place for you.”
“No,” said Sugar.
At her side, Legs held Mother’s hand to his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.