Servant of a Dark God - By John Brown Page 0,141

form of one’s body? Surely, more than anyone in the Order, and that thought filled him with dismay.

He looked at her again and swore her visage shifted. “What are you?” he asked.

She ignored his question and held up the stomach that contained the souls of his family. “You still fight me. Have I ever given you a reason not to believe I will do what I say?”

What was she going to do with them? His panic began to rise again, but he could not let her know that. She was wicked. Wicked and cruel and the slightest slip would mean the end of his wife or children. He looked at the stomach and said nothing.

“Wicked?” she asked. “Is it wicked for the master to demand obedience from his dog? Is it wicked to break a beast of its rebellious ways? And if it demonstrates quality, is it wicked to administer praise and reward?”

“I am not your dog.”

“Oh, but you are. And I will have loyalty from you. It is your decision. Obey me and you will eat from my table. Defy me and you will learn by the things you suffer.”

“I can withstand your pain.”

“Perhaps I did not state myself clearly before—you can be free one day, and so can your family. I’m not a cruel master. I don’t want to be such, even when such methods do have their advantages. No. I govern by giving you choices. You’ve chosen poorly and shall reap what you’ve sown. But I will give you this: I will let you decide which one I shall eat.”

His panic swelled. “No,” said Hunger. “Please.”

“Choose.”

“I’ll do whatever you say,” he said. “Spare them.”

“It is too late,” she said.

“Take me then. Eat my soul.”

He was close enough to reach out and take his stomach from her, but he could not move. And the horror of his helplessness washed over him.

“Then I shall choose,” she said. “I will take the lesser of them to show you I am merciful. I shall take the youngest male.”

“No,” he said. Not, his son.

Not any of them!

She opened the mouth of the stomach, reached in, and withdrew a shining form. It bucked and sparkled like a hooked fish in the sunshine.

Souls held the same rough form as the bodies they animated, or so the wise ones said. And while Hunger could see part of the form, he could not see it all. It was like glimpsing something in the water, seeing only one distorted facet. But distorted facet or not, he knew this soul. “Russet,” he whispered. “Son!”

This was a nightmare.

“I keep my promises,” she said. “Remember that.” Then she opened her mouth and fell upon the shining like a cat might the neck of a large hare.

“No!” Hunger cried.

The silvery light struggled violently.

Then she wrenched it. The light flexed in one brilliant flash, then hung limp in her hand. She gulped a portion of his son like a swamp snake gulped in part of a piglet, like a man gulped overlarge quantities of blood pudding.

Hunger’s mind split. His world turned white.

Rage and horror and grief flooded him. He turned to the women behind him. The Mother wanted them, well, he would deny her that. He might not strike her, but he could strike them and deprive her of their service, whatever hideous form that would take. And by so doing, he’d save them from her awful bondage.

“Halt!” said the Mother.

“Let me go!” he said and fought her binding with all the force he could muster. He succeeded in taking one step toward the women. Ha! he crowed in triumph.

“Enough,” said the Mother, and Hunger found he could not move. A smoke of confusion clouded his eyes, and he knew no more.

Hunger woke on the cave floor. He smelled the women—Purity and River. Smelled the coals of the dead fire. And remembered Russet, his son.

His grief rose like a tide.

“You have a choice,” said the Mother.

He wanted to strike her, but could not. “I will not listen to you.”

“Quiet.”

Hunger fell in on himself.

“Pursue this course and I will eat them all. There are three others here in this stomach. Live to free them. I’ve given you my promise. I am not cruel. Obey me and reap your reward.”

He could not trust this creature. “When will you free them?”

“When your loyalty is thoroughly tested. And then, after a time of service, I will free you.”

“You lie.”

The Mother shook her head. “Prove to me your loyalty. Stop fighting me. You will see I am

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