And Night Descends (The Third Book of the Small Gods Series)

by Blake, Bruce

  Juddah watched as the fellow scooped another spade full of dirt over his shoulder, then stopped upon noticing his captor. Shovel in hand, he met Juddah’s gaze, waited.

  He’d already discovered many times the man didn’t understand his words anyway, so he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he made a rough gesture, jerking his thumb to one side and hoping the fellow might understand he wanted him to toss aside the spade. When he didn’t, Juddah pointed at the digging tool and gestured again. The fellow looked at his hands gripping the worn, wooden handle, then threw the spade on the pile of fresh-turned earth.

  Juddah tugged at his beard, took a step back and waved his hands toward himself, letting the man know he should climb out of the modest hole. He did. Another signal to stay put and Juddah retrieved the key from the bib pocket of his overalls and undid the lock tethering his captive to the steel spike in the ground.

  “I had enough of both of you,” he grumbled as he straightened, the words intended for himself rather than for the man. “Going to lock you up where you can see her but not touch her.”

  He walked a wide berth around the stranger, the distance between them enough for the chain to stay taut, then he yanked it to get the fellow moving toward the outbuilding. Having learned his place, he complied.

  They crossed the yard, metal links clanking, and Juddah threw open the barn door with a thump. Behind him, Kooj let out a bark from the porch, but he ignored the dog as he swung his arm to urge the well-digger across the threshold.

  “Get in there.”

  The man passed by him close enough for Juddah to smell the tang of sweat digging had brought to his skin. It coaxed a crooked smile to his lips beneath his sagging whiskers.

  She ain’t gonna enjoy the way you stink, fella.

  He entered the barn after him, letting the door swing closed, and Kooj barked again. The woman crouched on the floor with her back to the wall. She swung her sightless gaze toward them as they entered and stared, her milky eyes settling on Juddah despite her inability to see him. He diverted his face, ashamed, his shrunken staff retreating farther.

  “Get over there,” he said pushing the well-digger by the shoulder.

  The man stumbled across the dirt floor, head turned toward the woman cowering against the wall, and Juddah wondered if he wanted to ask if she was hurt. Would he do that if he could speak, or would he be smart enough to hold his tongue?

  Juddah gestured with his chin for the prisoner to move toward the far side of the room, giving him space to affix the chain to the stake in the floor. The fellow obeyed and Juddah knelt to lock him in place when Kooj broke into another noisy flurry.

  “Damn it, Kooj,” he hollered over his shoulder. “Be quiet.”

  But the dog didn’t. The barking spilled off the porch and crossed the yard as the dog’s shadow blocked the sun in one gap between wall boards after the next.

  “What are you doing, dog?”

  Juddah clicked the lock and hurried back to the barn door, not bothering to spare another glance at the stranger he’d found near-dead on the beach or the woman he’d saved from a religious whorehouse. In that moment, nothing mattered more than finding out what was going on with his only friend. He slammed the door and trudged across the yard, following the sound of the dog’s constant barks.

  “Kooj,” he called, heading the direction the dog had gone.

  He went three paces and stopped, brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown. A figure stood at the edge of the forest, one that was becoming all too familiar to Juddah.

  “Birk,” he whispered.

  An instant later, he realized the pesky man had brought friends.

  XXIII Man From Across the Sea—Intruders

  He sat on the dirt floor, staring across the barn at Ailyssa where a thick rope with fraying strands bound her to the wall. His muscles ached from digging, but the pain in his limbs didn’t keep him from finding his way to her side—he knew the chain was too short.

  She sagged against the boards, chin drooping toward her chest, and he wished she could peer back at him. When they’d touched, and he’d understood the words she spoke, he experienced something he’d abandoned since finding himself a prisoner with no memory in this barn: he’d found hope.

  But hope is fleeting when it bends to the whims of others. Especially men of Jud-dah’s ilk.

  He inhaled the all-too-familiar scents of old manure and filth, rubbed his bare and aching right shoulder, and crouched, watching the woman. After a moment, she lifted her chin, cocked her head.

  Listening.

  He did the same, but heard nothing other than the dog’s barking. Ailyssa rose, dirt on the front of her shift where her knees had touched the floor. She attempted a step forward, but the rope tied around her wrists stopped her. Two heartbeats later, he detected the sounds of footsteps approaching the door and stood, too.

  Sunlight flooded through the doorway as a hand threw the door open and Jud-dah’s outline blocked it for an instant, then he hurried across the barn.

  “Yewgod a’elp,” he said in his unintelligible language. His feet kicked up a cloud of dust as he scuffled along, but not headed for the man; instead, he made for the wall of shelves and barrels. “Goda’elp orweer gunnad eye.”

  Metal rattled against wood as he wrapped his hands around the hilts of weapons protruding above the edge of a barrel. Jud-dah held them up, examining them, but the dots of rust along the blades and chips out of the edges didn’t seem to dissatisfy him. When his captor faced him, he took a step away.

  “Here,” Jud-dah said and tossed a weapon with a wide, short blade toward him. He jumped back with a rattle of chain as the short sword thumped on the floor. “Pig idup anfallam ee. Yewgoda fitebes idemee ordye.”

  The bearded man stomped back toward the doorway, leaving his captive to stare after him, confused. His gaze slipped from Jud-dah’s back to the sword lying in the dirt, then to Ailyssa. The woman’s milky eyes stared after Jud-dah, her mouth twisted in what the man guessed to be fear. Their captor threw another sword—this one longer and heavier—at the woman’s feet, startling her. She squealed.

  Juddah halted in the doorway.

  “Fukmee.”

  With Kooj’s barks echoing across the yard, Jud-dah stalked back toward his well-digger. The prisoner glanced at the weapon lying near his feet, but didn’t think he’d be able to reach it before Jud-dah got to him. And if he did, he couldn’t be sure he’d know how to use it.

  He didn’t have to find out.

  The bearded captor stopped at the spike driven into the floor, kneeled beside it, a third sword leaning against his thigh as he dug into the pocket of his bib overalls. He pulled out the piece of metal he used to open the contraption holding the chain, but bobbled it in his thick fingers. It hit the floor in a puff of dust.

  “Dammit.”

  He scooped it up with a handful of dirt and fumbled it into the device, rotated it until it clicked. When it did, the chain came free of the spike, then he closed it again, leaving it attached to the last link.

  Jud-dah stood and hurried toward the door again, jabbing the tip of his sword in Ailyssa’s direction—a gesture, not a threat.

  “Untiren cumwi fmee. Yewguna fiter yewgunad eye.”

  His shape blocked the sun again as he passed through the doorway, then he disappeared. Kooj barked and barked and the man stared at the sunlight shining into the barn in disbelief.

  He’s freed me.

  Another thought followed the first.

  Why?

  Other thoughts might have followed if not for Ailyssa’s words interrupting them. He jerked his gaze away from the sunlight, his eyes taking a moment to adjust as they found her pulling against her bindings, fear and desperation pulling her features taut.

  “Pleez,” she said. “Pleez undime ee.”

  The man gave his head a shake, picked the ill-tended sword off the floor, and crossed toward her, chain clanking behind him. When he reached Ailyssa, he put his hand
on her arm instead of going straight to the knot holding her.

  As soon as his fingers found her, a mist cleared in his brain.

  “What’s happening,” he said, surprised by the words coming from his lips despite knowing to expect them. “What did he say?”

  She stared at him, eyes clear, the fear disappearing for an instant, hidden beneath the wonder of seeing again. Distress rushed back in.

  “He said you should untie me. He said we have to fight beside him or die.”

  ***

  The robed men stalked across the field toward the barn, the tall grass brushing their black robes. Juddah counted enough to take up all of his fingers and thumbs, plus Birk. Even with the man and woman helping him, he wouldn’t stand a chance if they wanted a fight.

  Why else were they here?

  Kooj stood in the middle of the yard, barking himself hoarse, teeth exposed. The noise he made didn’t deter the men; they’d come within a dozen paces of the half-dug well.

  “Kooj, come,” Juddah yelled as he stomped through the tall grass to meet the interlopers. His furry friend had other plans.

  The dog shot out like a quarrel from a crossbow, bounding across the yard and over the would-be well. His four feet touched the ground twice more, muscles beneath his glistening pelt rippling before he launched himself at the closest man.

  The dog snarled and snapped his jaws as he flew and, for an instant, Juddah reveled in the thought of Kooj’s teeth tearing out the fellow’s throat. It would mean the start of a fight, but at least he’d be sure the blood of his enemy soaked the earth.

  Before the dog’s gaping mouth reached him, the robed man’s hand shot out from the long sleeve, grasping Kooj by the neck, plucking him out of the air as though someone tossed him a ball. The dog’s growl transformed immediately to a whimper. He scrabbled with his front paws, but the man twisted his wrist and the sharp crack of Kooj’s neck snapping stopped Juddah in his tracks.

  “No.”

  He whispered the word, glaring at the fellow holding his limp dog dangling from one hand. Rage exploded in Juddah’s chest. He brandished the sword, clenched his teeth hard enough to cause himself pain. Muscles in his forearm strained with the tightening grip on his weapon as he resumed his path toward his adversaries, feet stomping the ground.

  The robed fellow responded by tossing Kooj’s body at him.

  The dog hit the dirt a few arm lengths in front of Juddah and skidded to a stop, tongue lolling between slack jaws, back legs twisted. Juddah halted, stared at Kooj’s blank eyes. His hand went limp; the sword fell from his grip and he dropped to his knees.

  “Kooj?”

  He slipped one hand under the dog’s neck, one under his shoulder, and pulled the animal toward him, rested its head on his knees. It swiveled in a way he’d never felt it move.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Kooj.” He ran his hand along the top of the dog’s head and down his neck, buried his fingers in his scruff. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  It occurred to him it might be wise to take up the sword and defend himself, but the thought got ignored, same as the one that told him he shouldn’t cry because Birk’d see him and tell everyone at Krin’s tavern. The weapon lay in the dirt, the tears got lost in Juddah’s tangled beard.

  “Oh, Kooj.”

  When Juddah next raised his head, the unwanted crying had made Birk and his robe-wearing friends smeared and blurry, but it didn’t change the fact they’d formed a rough circle around him. Juddah snorted a wad of snot back into his nose and glared at Birk, despair giving way to anger.

  “Where is he?” Birk said. “Where is the man from across the sea?”

  Juddah clenched his jaw and shook his head, scanning the grass for where his sword ended up. It lay on the ground to his right, nearer than an arm’s-length away but less than a hand’s breadth from one of the robed men’s bare feet. It might’ve been the fellow who murdered Kooj, but Juddah didn’t know. No matter; he wanted to kill him and stuff him in a sack, whether it was him who’d done it or one of the others.

  “Look at me,” Birk demanded.

  Juddah did, taking in as many of the others as possible. He didn’t see a sword or pike amongst them. If they bore no arms, he might beat them, even without help from Ailyssa and the silent man.

  Why didn’t they come? I saved them when no one else would.

  The tears clinging to Juddah’s lashes continued to blur Birk’s appearance, but he saw the man grasped no weapon in his hand, either. In fact, he held his arm out in front of him, palm stretched open. Juddah thought it a mighty odd gesture.

  “Where is he?”

  Juddah sniffed hard, pulling his response out of his nose and into the back of his throat, readying to launch it between his lips. But a glow appeared out of nowhere in Birk’s open palm, stopping him. He stared at it, unable to move or react as the skinny man moved closer, closer.

  Closer until Juddah screamed.

  ***

  With an arm hooked through the man’s, Ailyssa rubbed her wrists where the rope had chafed her skin. She stayed close to keep from losing contact with him; if it ceased, her sight would, too.

  He peeked around the doorway, shielding her to keep her from seeing what transpired, but it didn’t stop her from hearing.

  Barking. Snarling.

  “Kooj, come!”

  Four paws beating the ground. Growl. Whimper. Snap.

  The final sound contained something ugly and painful. She realized it wasn’t the sound made by a foot stepping on a dry branch, but a living thing. She winced when she heard it.

  “Now. Let’s go,” the man said.

  She didn’t know his name, because he claimed he had none—or didn’t know it either, at least—yet she followed him without question. As she followed Juddah, and Creidra before him, the Goddess before them all.

  Will I ever stop following?

  Ailyssa adjusted her grip on the sword, the weapon’s hilt foreign in her hand. The man stepped out of the doorway, pulling her along behind him, but he didn’t head the same direction as Juddah. Instead, he pulled her the opposite way, to the right, toward where she suspected they’d find the sea.

  He moved with stealth, the length of chain wrapped around his forearm to prevent it from clanking. His movement forced her to concentrate on her footing to keep up, but she stole a glance over her shoulder.

  Juddah knelt in the middle of the yard, Kooj in front of him, the dog’s head in his lap. Even from a distance, she understood the snap she’d heard had come from the animal. The barking had ceased immediately after and not resumed. Juddah hung his head over his lost companion, so he didn’t notice the group of men creeping up around him.

  Ailyssa dragged her feet, attempting to stop her companion, but he continued pulling her along. She yanked her arm away and their connection broke for an instant. White overtook her vision and panic tightened her chest until he grabbed her by the wrist.

  “No,” she said. He didn’t respond. “We can’t leave him.”

  The man stopped and faced her, gaze flickering past her for an instant before finding her eyes.

  “He meant to kill me and rape you,” he said, his tone angry and desperate. “Who knows why those others are here or what they’ll do to us. Do you want to take that chance?”

  Ailyssa stared into his face, barely recognizing it from the man whose arms she’d collapsed into in the barn when her sight first returned. His features were hardened, his expression dire. Were all men this changeable? Juddah had been.

  Juddah.

  The thought of him squeezed her heart. She looked back over her shoulder at the men ringing her rescuer, the man who’d been her captor. The robed men blocked him from her sight except for the side of his face, the dog’s hind legs folded over its body. She cringed at what had happened, but her companion was right: if they did this to Kooj, to Juddah, what might they do to her?

  She spun away from the scene and allowed the man to lead her past the ramshackle house a
nd into the woods, toward the sound of water. It filled her ears as they moved.

  Until Juddah screamed.

  XXIV Horace—The Green

  Wakefulness arrived with a poundin’ skull and a ringin’ in his ears what refused to go away.

  Horace pulled his tongue from where it stuck to the roof o’ his mouth and smacked his lips. The sound it made within his noggin worsened the pain, which prompted a groan outta him, which then put a worse hurtin’ in his head. He’d been in this predicament before and understood what it needed to make it stop…more ale.

  The ol’ sailor pushed himself from prone to sittin’, eyes closed tight lest openin’ them allowed his eyeballs to jump clear outta his skull. He steadied himself with both hands on what his brain thought should’ve been a mattress, or a hard floor, but what were plainly dirty ground covered with what felt like needles fallen from some tree. A breeze caressed Horace’s cheek, disturbin’ his whiskers, and the tiny wind carried realization along with it.

  More ale?

  Weren’t no ale what brought Horace Seaman to this place o’ splittin’ headache and dry mouth this time. He wished it were so, but things far worse’n too much drinkin’ did it.

  The ol’ sailor pried his eyes open, stuck shut as they was by more sleep’n he’d had in longer’n he might recall. The lids and lashes came apart and light flooded in, blindin’ him and bringin’ more pain. He caught a blurry glimpse o’ brown and green—leaves and tree trunks, he suspected—then threw his forearm in front o’ his face to block it out, not wantin’ to see neither the trees nor the light.

  His memory returned: the rocky beach, the cliff what collapsed under him, the tasty apples he’d ate before dozin’ off.

  More’n dozin’, judgin’ by the sun.

  He forced his lids open again, filterin’ the sunlight with his grubby shirt-covered forearm until his peepers grew accustomed to the concept o’ lettin’ in the glare. When they did, he lowered his arm, notin’ the brown tree needles stuck to his palm. He brushed them away on his pant leg and turned his attention back to his surroundin’s.