Servant of a Dark God - By John Brown Page 0,67

sacrifice of Fire would help her in the world of the dead. But he knew it wouldn’t lighten the pain he felt in his chest.

After a few moments of silence, Hogan said, “So, what emptied those bones? Wizards?”

It had always been a wizard’s dream to collect the bones of slaughtered animals and deceased humans, to harvest Fire without cost. The soul has departed; so there shouldn’t be any power there to resist a harvest of what remained in the bones. Battlefields, slaughter pens, dinner plates heaped with the remains of a meal—they should all be rich with easy Fire. But they weren’t. The bones resisted them. “Either someone has finally discovered how to persuade bones to release their treasure,” said Argoth, “or there’s a new power abroad.”

“Or an old one,” said Hogan. “Perhaps that is what killed Lumen.”

The ancient stories told of gods inhabiting many places. In the beginning, the old gods were servants of the Creators. There were gods for fish and beasts and trees, each chosen from its own kind. Each taught the lore by the Creators themselves so that they might guide and bless a certain small territory: a vale, a wood, or a group of hamlets.

But these old ones had proved unstable. One never knew if a god would end up being a curse or a blessing. And so the legends say the six Creators withdrew their presence from them. Regret, of course, did not. In time, a new order arose, an order of human Divines who sought to battle the old ones and rule huge territories. Some said the new order began with a group of gods seeking the ways of the first parents; others said it had nothing to do with the old ones, but had been established by the Creators directly.

Whatever the origin, the new order began to hunt the old gods. There were many tales of the ancient battles. In the end, the Divines triumphed. They claimed total extermination, yet there were always rumors of old ones that had slipped through the cracks. Could this be one of the old gods who had survived?

“This changes everything,” said Hogan.

“It does,” said Argoth. “Of course, why Barg? That part makes no sense. He was the key to . . . nothing.”

“A mere butcher, a harvest master,” Hogan said. He shook his head and looked up at the stars.

“Hogan,” said Argoth, “Lord Shim has been making suggestions again. Perhaps this is the opportunity we’ve been looking for. We do have the Book and Crown. Perhaps our time has come.”

“And who can read it?” asked Hogan. “No. We won’t risk that.”

Hogan was overly conservative. The Book and Crown of Hismayas held many things now lost to the world. It was said that Hismayas, the founder of their order, knew things not even the Glories of this world knew, things given him by the Creators themselves.

“We’ve discussed this before,” said Hogan. “Rushing to harvest only ruins the crop. The Order is not yet ripe.”

What would happen if they declared their powers openly? Some would join. Perhaps many. They might defeat the Bone Faces. But many might also prefer to submit themselves to that rot rather than ally themselves with Sleth. Bosser was one of those. He would fight against Argoth, and sooner or later, Mokad would find out; they would send an army to obliterate anyone having anything to do with the Order. The Nine Clans would join with them. Hogan was right: it could only end in chaos and ruin, but that did not make this cold logic any easier to bear.

A guard yelled back at the tower door, a mastiff snarled and was cut off. There were grunts, the sound of something metal clanging violently into the wall.

Argoth turned and looked at the gate, but the shadows obscured everything.

Something dark flashed in the corner of his vision and dropped from the sky. It thudded to the ground not two paces from where Argoth stood. At first Argoth thought it was a pile of rags, and then he realized it was one of the mastiffs that had been guarding the tower door.

It lay in a broken heap.

BREACH

A

thundering crack sounded from the base of the tower. A dim light briefly shone where the door should be. Argoth thought he heard Droz’s roar, but almost as soon as it started, all fell silent again and the light vanished.

There was no moaning that would suggest someone had been injured. No movement. Nothing but moon shadows and the monstrous dog

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