rock he was sitting on and moved out of its way, closer to Uncle Argoth. So much for the Creek Widow’s theory of him being bred to greatness. He’d cracked like an egg.
And so much for the Creek Widow. He wondered what had happened to her.
He wondered about Da. The Skir Master had said the monster had taken him. Talen tried to talk to Uncle Argoth. But the man totally ignored him. He ignored everyone and sat to the side, rocking on his haunches and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
“What do you think will become of us if the Skir Master kills it?” Talen asked.
“I don’t think we have to worry about that,” said Legs. “Usually the bait is the first thing to go.”
“True enough,” Talen said.
They were silent for a time. Talen wondered where Nettle was at this moment. He hoped he was safe but wished, nevertheless, that he was here. Then Sugar spoke up. “Once he faces off with that creature, I say we slip away. Because if he takes it, he doesn’t know where the monster’s cave is, which means we can walk straight into that lair and retrieve whoever is still alive. And if he doesn’t destroy it, then I certainly don’t want to be anywhere close.”
“The only clear path is up that hill,” Talen said. The outer dreadmen and Fir-Noy had positioned themselves everywhere else. Talen didn’t think running would work since the Fir-Noy had horses, but thinking about escape was better than thinking of being devoured by a monster or questioned by a Divine whose ship had burned underneath him.
Uncle Argoth reached out and gripped Talen’s arm much too tightly.
“Uncle?” Talen asked.
“He knows,” said Uncle Argoth, his grip tightening even further. “He knows everything.”
“What’s he talking about?” Sugar asked.
Talen shrugged. He tried to pull away but his uncle would not let go.
A dreadman broke the tree line on the other side of the meadow on the valley’s floor. He was tall and thin and fast, as fast as a horse at full gallop. He ran across the field and in moments he stood before the Skir Master. “Cos and Heel are dead, their backs broken.”
“Shegom reports nothing,” said the Skir Master.
“They’ve been dead for at least an hour.”
The Skir Master studied the hills about the valley. To this moment, he hadn’t yet withdrawn any of the hag’s teeth. He did so now, removing one of the silver spikes from its blue velvet bed and grasping it in his white, gold-studded glove. “Where are you?” he said under his breath.
As if in answer Talen saw a stone above the mouth of the cave move. He looked closer.
“Goh,” he said. It was as if a part of the hill had come alive.
The Crab followed Talen’s gaze.
Then the creature jumped, dropping down with a thud only paces behind the Skir Master. In the morning light its features were clearer than they had been that night in the yard. It was a grotesque giant. And while clumps of grass still clung to it here and there, he saw the underlying color was of dirt and blue stone. One shoulder was burned. Along the other, a patch of small white flowers grew.
The Skir Master turned, but he was too late and the creature slapped the hand holding the tooth. The hand flew backward violently.
The Crab cried out. He clutched at his throat, at the spike that stood out of his neck. Then the end of the spike curled like a worm. In a flash of silver it wriggled into the Crab’s neck.
The Crab gasped and stumbled. He tripped toward Talen and the others. Talen tried to scramble back, but Uncle Argoth would not release him. Then the Crab twitched and toppled into the fire. Ash puffed up in a billow.
Talen tried to pry Argoth’s fingers away, but could not. He choked on the ash that blew into his face.
The Skir Master danced back with blinding speed, trying to pull another spike from his case, but the monster moved more quickly and swatted the case out of his hand. The case flew wide, disappearing into the brush a number of paces away.
“The teeth,” said Uncle Argoth. He released Talen’s arm and scrambled to the bushes where the case had fallen.
Leaf cried out, drew a black-bladed sword, and charged the monster. The speed of the dreadman was frightening.
“Shegom!” the Skir Master yelled and dodged away from the monster.
Another dreadman, who had been hiding only paces away from where the monster