The God of Hunger gazed around the courtyard, barely illuminated by torchlight and the fading light of dusk. He wasn't what I had expected. Tall, too tall, and lanky. His hair was blonde, shoulder length, pulled tight into a ponytail by a strip of leather. His face was gaunt, clean shaven, and not particularly handsome. He was shirtless, and wore black pants that ended just below the knees. They looked well made, but not fancy. The spear he carried made up for it. Runes and swirls and filligree glowed along it's shaft in red and green and gold. The head of the spear he carried was red, slick with blood.

The Devourer's eyes fell on Nynyane, still chained to the table that served as a makeshift altar. He smiled. His teeth were jagged and sharp. It was like watching a shark grin. At the sight of it, the Lady On The Table jerked frantically, her gag muffling cries of panic as she struggled uselessly against her bonds.

Satisfied with what he saw, the deity turned his attention to the Knights kneeling before him. The three surrounding Nynyane's table waited in silence, heads bowed. The rest of us in the back of the courtyard kept our mouths shut as well. Mike shifted, and I clamped a hand on his arm before he could start his suicidal charge. Running face first at a hungry god and his three minions didn't strike me as a winning plan.

"Long have I waited." The Devourer's voice was smooth, sibilant, and came with a whispering echo. Oddly enough, the sound of it reminded me I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I was suddenly starving. "Too long. Shut from the world, starved of worship, the flow of souls reduced to but a trickle. It's been so long I've run out of people to eat." His smile widened, eyes burning with an eagerness that made my blood run cold. "But now the wait is over. Now I will walk the earth once more. And who should I find waiting for me, but the woman who sealed me away." He stepped closer to the table, grinning down at the Lady. "Nynyane, last of the nine sisters. You have no idea how pleased I am to see you."

Nynyane froze in place, staring in abject horror at the nightmare she'd worked so hard to prevent. "Tell me, priestess," the God of Hunger whispered. Have you opened the Partition? Let your gods back into the world?" The God of Hunger stroked long, pale fingers down the woman's cheek. She flinched away, and he grabbed her by the hair, forced her to look at him. "You haven't have you?" A vicious chuckle echoed through the courtyard, sending terrified goosebumps down my arms. "They're trapped beyond the veil. Powerless." He leaned closer. "They can't contest me. Can't save you. Can't stop me from eating your soul." He released her, letting her head thump back down on the table. "But not yet. Not soon. We'll have a long time together, you and I." He stroked her again, eliciting another flinch and a choked cry. "You will experience such things as to break the minds of mortals. You will suffer as no other creature ever has. As no other creature ever will." His voice dropped to hissing whisper. "I promise it."

The Red Knight jerked halfway to his feet, despite my attempt to hold him down. The Green Knight jerked him back down. He turned to look at him, furious, shaking with rage. William gave him a slow shake of the head. He was right. We couldn't charge in. We needed more information. We needed an edge. We needed... ah hell. I didn't know what we needed. But I was sure we didn't have it. If Mike charged in now, he was dead, and he'd take the rest of us with him. Patrick was probably as upset as Mike was, but he'd kept his cool, at least. The treacherous Orange Prophet hadn't moved either. He looked worried. I didn't take that as a good sign.

The God noticed. His gaze flicked over to Mike. The Red Knight lowered his head, shoulders clenched, fist strangling the hilt of his sword. For a moment, I thought we were screwed. The Devourer was going to come over, and the fight would start. The God smirked, and turned away. I let out the breath I'd been holding.

The Lord of Wyrms addressed the Knight kneeling in the center ritual circle. "Servant," he said to the man. "You have done well. You have corrected your father's failure."

"Thank you, my Lord," the Black Knight kept his head bowed. His accent was English, posh. His voice was solid and resonant, with the confidence and charisma one would expect from a cult leader or a despot. If I hadn't known the Black Knight was their leader, the voice alone would have confirmed is for me.

"Perhaps it is better this way," the Devourer mused. "Once we leave this island, I will be the only God in the mortal realm. All of humanity will be mine to play with." He stroked a long fingered hand across his pointed chin. "Yes. You've done well, indeed. You may ask a boon of me."

"Thank you, my Lord," the Black Knight raised his head slightly, meeting the gaze of his master. "There is but one boon I would ask."

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"Name it."

"Free us," asked the Knight. "Long ago, my father pledged his soul to you. His soul, and the souls of his descendants. I ask that you release us. Release me. Release my children."

"Release you?" The God stared down at the man. "Release you?" He snarled. "I offer you a boon, and you respond with insolence? Fool." The word boomed, echoing through the courtyard. "This world is mine. Every body. Every soul. To free you from your father's oath would be pointless. You would still be mine."

"This is the boon I ask," the Knight known as Roderick said simply. "Will you grant it?"

"Fool," the God boomed again. "You are mine. You exist to serve me. You, and all your line. I grant you nothing."

"I am sorry to hear that." The Knight regarded his master evenly. He rose to his feet, drawing his sword out of the ground. The other Knights with him rose as well. "Freedom would have been preferable." He raised his sword. "But if our souls are destined for your realm, I'll take comfort knowing you'll be too dead to eat them."

The Black Knight raised his sword. The Devourer waited. The Black Knight started forward, then froze. He tried again. And again. The Purple Knight pointed his sword at the God. Nothing happened. The Brown Knight managed a single step, sword drawn back for a swing. He grunted with effort, but could move no further.

"Pitiful." The Lord of Wyrms shook his head. "Did you forget that I own your souls? Did Mordred not tell you?" His spear flashed out, taking the Brown Knight in the stomach. The man screamed as he was lifted into the air. "Your defiance is useless. You cannot harm me."

The God regarded the impaled man. "I can feel your anger. Your hunger for violence." He gave Roderick a smile. "I believe I promised you a boon." The Brown Knight screamed louder, higher pitched. His armor disappeared, revealing a clean cut man in a brown suit with a red tie. His face contorted. His body stretched. His skin turned grey. "I will sate your hunger. I will give you something to fight."

The impaled man's voice changed, amplified. It was not one scream, but dozens, all issuing from the same mouth. Limbs elongated. Fingers stretched into claws. The man's mouth widened and widened, teeth sharpening into needles. The Lord of Wyrms lowered his spear, letting the man slide off onto the ground. He convulsed, tearing at himself. Finally, finally, the man stopped moving. The screams fell silent.

"Thomas?" The Purple Knight moved towards the fallen man. He had the same accent as Roderick, but he sounded a lot younger, and a whole lot more lost. "Oh, God. Thomas." He started to kneel, but the Black Knight grabbed him by the shoulder, flinging him backward. A long grey hand sliced the air where his head used to be.

The thing that used to be Thomas rose to it's feet. It was tall. Eight feet, at least. It's body was thin, stretched. I could see it's bones under loose grey skin. It opened its maw, and the sound of a screaming woman came out of it's mouth.

The Brown Knight was gone. In its place stood a Wendigo. The thing flickered into motion, reaching Roderick in less time than it took to blink. The Black Knight was faster. I didn't see his sword move. It was just suddenly in a different position. The Wendigo fell in several pieces.

It wasn't dead. Not yet. Its limbs twitched, and it's head glared up at Roderick, hateful and hungry. The Black Knight stepped closer, his voice steady. "I'm sorry, son." His blade cleaved the thing's head in two.

The Red Knight was up. I'd let my grip on his arm slacken while I was watching the fight, and he surged up and forward before I could react. If I wanted to stop him, I'd have to get up myself. I shared a look with William and Patrick. The Green Knight rose to his feet. Patrick and I followed.

Mike sheathed his sword, pulling the shotgun strapped to his back. He walked with the calm stride of a man who did not expect to be stopped. The Hungry God was saying something to the Black Knight, but I wasn't paying attention anymore. I gripped Solais, a sword made by gods to kill other gods. Would it be enough? Would I be? I still hadn't come up with a plan, yet.

Mike had. His unhurried stride ate up the distance until he was a mere twenty feet away from the Lord of Wyrms. "Hey! Buttchug!" The god gave him his attention, face darkening at the disrespect. Mike stopped walking, bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder. "Eat this."

The shotgun boomed. A steel slug slammed into the forehead of the Devourer of Souls. It made an entry wound the size of a quarter. The exit wound blew the back of his head to pieces. The God dropped like a wet sack. He hadn't even had time to look surprised.

I stared at the dead god. It couldn't be that easy. Could it? The Red Knight kept his weapon trained on the corpse. The Devourer didn't move. After a few silent seconds. Mike let out a "Holy shit." He spoke with reverent surprise. "I didn't think that would work."

"Mike?" The Blue Knight deadpanned. I noticed he kept his rapier at the ready. "Did you just refer to a literal damned god as Buttchug?"

"Yeah." The Red Knight shrugged a shoulder, gun still trained on the body.

"We've got to work on your insults, mate." The Green Knight left the dead god to Mike and Patrick, facing his sword and shield towards Roderick and the Purple Knight. "Buttchug? Really?"

"I like it," I decided. I trained Solais on the Orange Knight behind us. Leaving a size changing mercenary who could see the future unattended would be a poor tactical decision. Also, if the God of Hunger really was dead, killing the bastard was about to be my number one priority. "That's what we're calling him from now on."