Story #351 - Hungered

Hungered

So it was that the Queen of all things made her choice, and allowed her soul to be consumed, eaten by the Once-was. People of the world were unaware, made ignorant by their own action and kept that way by That Which Eats. That Which Hungers…

“Get down!” Bello Pris screamed, pulling the young man down off of the hill-line. “You might as well light a fire-beacon for the hordes to shoot at!”

“What?” The soldier’s face was slack, his mouth loose. “I don’t –“

Bello did his best to tamp down the anger that flared but it was difficult. The Monarchs had been sending him the bottom of the barrel for months, but it appeared they’d finally managed to scrape through that barrel and down into the ground.

“On top of a ridge line with the sun to your back you might as well scream out our position, son – the enemy not only gets a clear shot at you but it lets them know we’re watching.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I…” the kid trailed off, and Bello clapped a hand down on the young man’s shoulder.

“What were you before this, boy? Before the war?”

“A cobbler,” he said, dropping his head. “And a good one. Had my own shop up and running until the guards came and pulled me away, told me I was in the army.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Took me from my girl.”

Bello felt a stab of compassion – he’d left behind a wife and son, but such was the life of a solider. At least he’d been given a choice.

“Get up,” he said gruffly, “and get back to camp. Tell them to expect me shortly.” He raised his voice. “Men! Back to camp!”

The boy looked as though he was going to protest, but those around him were already moving, crawling down the hill and then striking out along the dirty game-trail that led back to their forward post. They knew better than to question their command when he wanted to be alone; even if Bello was caught by a stray arrow or scouting party, there were others to take his place.

He waited until all of the men were gone before he started swearing, a long string of curses that streamed out into the autumn air. Even a cursory glance at the group below told him that the Those Which Hungered numbered in the thousands, if not tens of thousands, and his army stood no chance. The Monarchs would not be pleased to hear such an assessment, not happy to learn that they were once again outmatched. It had become a common circumstance of late – borders both north and south were beset by the ravening hordes, and Bello had heard rumors of Hungering armies crossing the sea.

“Bello…” A faint voice came to his ears and he was moving, rolling down the hill and coming to his feet, sword in hand. Nothing had pierced his flesh, no hooks had ripped out his eyes – yet – but sound typically meant death facing the hordes.

“Come out, cur!” He called. “Face me as a being of honor!” There was little chance of that – most of those arrayed against him knew little of respect, little of war. They would kill at a whim and only their leaders had any semblance of decency, a mockery of the true spirit shown by good men who gave their lives in service.

“I am not you enemy,” the voice went on, and a shimmering shape descended, sparkling in the slanting light. Crystalline reflections were cast down around him, shimmering things that spread out along the grass and touched gently blowing leaves with gold. After a moment the creature within came clear, but where perfect spiritual form should have appeared was a hideous beast, hunch-backed and warted, snapping and snarling even as it came. “I am the Queen of All.”

Bello snorted. He had heard the stories, but the Queen was widely regarded as the most beautiful creature the Lands had ever seen. Though she was nothing but the stuff of legend, Bello was certain should she choose to step out of the world of fantasy she could at least clean herself up.

“You are skeptical, my Bello, and rightly so,” the voice continued, “but have you never heard the stories?”

He frowned, schoolyard tales coming quickly to mind. The Queen had given herself for the good of all, allowed herself to be destroyed –

“Consumed,” the voice interrupted his thoughts. “I was consumed by this…thing.”

Bello looked again, looked more closely at the figure that had touched down before him. Its body struggled, anger clear in rippling waves of flesh and taut veins along knobbled hands, but its eyes were serene, its gaze peaceful.

He had mastered his share of enemies, driven down enough men to know – the beast was controlled.

“I…” he hesitated. “What would you have of me, my Lady?”

“Good,” she went on, “you still remember the old ways. I have a task for you, Commander, an aim that you must accomplish. This world has turned full circle, and soon the being in which I am contained will burst free.” The figure snarled at her words, snapping at the air and stamping its feet. “You must be there when it does so – I will be too weak, too spent to stand against its attacks after eons of control. Save me, Bello!” The voice began to fade along with the figure. “Come to the Pass! Do not abandon this world!”

She was gone before he could speak again, and in moments he was at his mount, swinging into the saddle and riding north. The Pass lay firmly in the hands of his enemy, but he had been looking to strike a blow against the Hungering elite. It would take all his powers of persuasion, but was sure the men could be made to follow. The Monarchs would not approve, but his force would be committed before they could act.

Bello had a Queen to save.


- D