When Ravens Call: The Fourth Book in the Small Gods Epic Fantasy Series (The Books of the Small Gods 4)

by Bruce Blake

  The soldier reached up with both hands, grasped the sides of his helmet and removed it. Brown hair fell past the rider's shoulders. Dark, intense eyes bore into Trenan.

  A woman!

  She glared at him, her mouth curled into a snarl, and he sensed she awaited his reaction. He knew better than to give away his surprise.

  "Welcome to Ikkundana, swordmaster Trenan."

  The rider spun on her heel, returned to her horse, mounted, and led them behind the walls of the City of the Sick.

  Trenan followed.

  IV Teryk - Serpent

  To Teryk's eyes, the strip of green perched on the horizon neither grew closer nor drifted farther away. It felt as though the chunk of deck on which they floated awaited the distant shoreline's approach or flight, but the land proved hesitant.

  The three men watched, waited for the sea or the shore to make their decisions. No one spoke for an age—Teryk rarely heard the other two draw breath. He endured the silence for as long as possible; when they continued not to speak, he took it upon himself.

  "The day is too calm." He looked from one to the other, waiting to gauge their reaction, but neither showed any. Anger rose to his cheeks; he hadn't survived a beating and a ship sinking to die floating atop a piece of wood within sight of land. He bit hard on his back teeth and spoke through his clenched jaw. "We'll never reach the shore if we do nothing."

  Still no response. How long floating here before his chance to fulfill the prophecy passed him by? What might happen to the world if the firstborn child of the rightful king died? He fought the urge to stand, yell, jab an accusatory finger toward the listless men. They'd lost their crew, and Rilum his son, so Teryk tried his best to be compassionate, but the effort grated on him. Who mourned a few dead compared to the end of mankind?

  "Aye, you have a point," Rilum said after a pause. "But maybe it be for the best."

  "For the best?" Teryk's voice rose in volume and pitch as his brows dipped toward his nose. "What do you mean? How can it be for the best?"

  The prince cast his attention to the surrounding ocean, lips pressed tight as he searched for a reason for the sailor's response. He spied nothing but the hint of green on the horizon ahead and the endless sea everywhere else. Did Rilum know something he didn't? If so, he in no way acted eager to give up his secret. Frustrated, Teryk forced his rage back into his chest, cleared his throat, and made another attempt.

  "What are you talking about?" He faced the other man. "Captain, what does he mean?"

  Bryder stared straight ahead, face slack, eyes hollow. His lips parted, quivered. Teryk's frustration and anger wound themselves into a ball in his gut as he realized the man wore an expression he'd never seen on the old seaman, not even during the rageful storm. He held his eyelids wide open, and he chewed his nails without appearing to realize he did so. The unexpected shore lying on the horizon appeared to have spooked the lifelong sailor.

  "That..." Bryder spoke in little more than a whisper, then paused and swallowed hard, the saliva clicking in his dry throat as if the one word had taxed him. "...Is the land across the sea."

  Teryk's gaze snapped back to the green strip; it suddenly appeared menacing despite the distance between their bit of wood and the shore.

  "We've gotten turned about." The prince shifted, craned his neck to peer over his shoulder, and set the makeshift raft rocking. He saw nothing but ocean around them before returning his gaze to find both the other survivors staring at him. His voice trembled as he spoke again. "Home lies ahead of us. We're saved."

  "Calm yerself or we'll end up in the sea again," Rilum growled.

  "But maybe it's home, right? You might be mistaken."

  Bryder shook his head before Teryk finished speaking.

  "Can't a landlocked fool see where the sun hangs in the sky? Don't you recognize we're past midday? The sun is to port; if the Windward Kingdom lay ahead, you'd find sunset to starboard."

  "Go easy on the lad, Rilum." The captain's quiet voice lacked the authority Teryk had become used to hearing in it.

  The prince watched Rilum's face redden, his eyes narrow, before he replied.

  "Easy?" he blurted. "I lost my son. You, your ship and crew. The worst stroke of luck ever to strike the Whalebone with but one thing different on this voyage from every other." He raised his arm, extended a finger toward Teryk. "This lying whelp."

  The sailor's accusation sent nervous and fearful energy prickling across the prince's skin. He opened his mouth to protest without having a clue what he might say, but Bryder interrupted, relieving him of the burden.

  "He's no more to blame than you or me, Rilum. Leave him be."

  Teryk watched the seaman's glare slip from him to the captain. The prince had become accustomed to reading angry expressions after dealing with his own father for so long, and he saw more reflected in the sailor's eyes: the grief of losing his son, his friends.

  "If it's not his fault for being bad luck, who else is to blame?" His words carried the sting of a whip, emotion dripping from each syllable.

  "What are you saying?"

  Rilum's lip curled. "You know what I'm saying. If you can't blame luck, blame the skipper."

  Bryder's sudden, explosive anger pushed him to his feet, a movement made more difficult than expected by the listing of the raft and his wooden foot left askew, its support not in the location he'd anticipated. Rilum Seaman jumped up in response, too, sending the raft's delicate balance out of true. The chunk of deck tilted and Teryk lunged to his right, pressed himself against the wood, as the other men lurched over the side.

  Frigid water splashed against the prince's skin, his muscles going taut as he prepared to plunge into the sea again. Instead of flipping, the sudden displacement of the other men's weight sent the raft slapping back against the ocean, jerking a shock through Teryk's cheek where it contacted the wood and jarred his head. It stunned him for an instant and he lay chest down until the chunk of deck settled.

  Behind him, splashing and shouts boiled up out of the sea. The prince blinked, stared at the spot where his face rested, taking in its grain, jagged splinters protruding in places, a black mark where flame had burned its surface. He released his frightened breath from his chest and pushed himself up on his elbows.

  As the noise suggested, the other two survivors of the Whalebone grappled in the water. Whether out of anger or in an attempt to help each other out of the sea, Teryk didn't know. He dragged himself across the chunk of deck toward the edge nearest them, careful not to upset his haven's balance. A sliver inserted itself into his right hand. He jerked away, breaking the embedded piece of wood off, breath hissing between his teeth. A drop of blood welled up around it and he resisted the urge to put the tip of his finger in his mouth.

  "Stop it, both of you."

  He moved toward the side closest to the men, but without their weight to counterbalance his, the raft lurched again. Teryk flattened himself against the chunk of wood once more, legs spread behind him, arms thrown wide before him. His hands extended right to the edge of the deck, fingers wrapping around it as the ripples and waves created by Bryder and Rilum Seaman splashed against them. Brine stung the small wound where the sliver remained lodged in his finger.

  The other survivors continued their struggle, each grabbing the other by their shirt front. They pulled and pushed, each one occasionally dunking the other under the water to come out sputtering a few heartbeats later. Teryk thought he might have found the scene humorous if it weren't for the fact they represented his best chance of surviving. If they brought about each other's demise, he'd float alone on the sea with no way to make shore and no hope of fulfilling the destiny laid out for him in the ancient scroll. He inched himself closer to the edge, the muscles in his jaw clenching as the raft listed farther.

  He glanced back over his shoulder at the green strip on the horizon. Bryder and Rilum thought it the land across the sea—and who was he to dispute their navigation skills? They'd spent their lives using the s
ky to find their way while the prince sometimes got lost in the castle he'd lived in since the day of his birth—then fate pointed him in the right direction. He'd learned the prophecy possessed its own plans for how things should occur, despite what he may think he should do.

  Teryk turned back toward the others, pulled himself closer to the edge, muscles tensing, knotting as the chunk of deck tilted a little more. Bryder shouted sailorly obscenities at Rilum, and the sailor responded, words garbled by seawater splashing into his mouth. He coughed, spat, dunked his captain's head beneath the surface and held him under.

  "My only son," Rilum said. The captain's arms thrashed, fighting to emerge. "First the sea took my father, and now my only son."

  Panic tied Teryk's gut into a tight knot. His mind flashed back to the day he and Danya found the scroll, when he'd gotten caught under the grate at the bottom of the river beneath the castle. His body recalled the alarm of needing to draw a breath but knowing doing so meant his death. Did Bryder experience the same distress? The prince's air grew short, as though it was him unable to breathe; anxiety burned in his limbs and chest. He pulled himself closer to the edge, the raft tilting enough his arms slid into the water halfway to his elbows.

  The tilt of the piece of deck redirected his gaze away from his fellow survivors and toward the sea. A flash of color near his hands caught his attention.

  Fish.

  Half a dozen finger-sized ocean dwellers maneuvered around him, fighting to find space. Fascinated by the reds, blues, yellows, and greens of their scales, the swishing movement of their fins and tails, Teryk forgot the two men struggling in the water. He wondered if the shape of the raft floating above their home drew these types of fish out of hiding. In response to his thoughts, he felt a smooth, toothless mouth brush against his fingertip. Such a gentle touch shouldn't have hurt, but it sent a mild jolt along his nerves—the little creatures attempted to feed at his wound.

  They're attracted by my blood.

  The realization yanked the prince from his distraction. He raised his chin, looked toward Rilum and Bryder.

  The sailor had released his captain's head, and the skipper blustered and coughed, spewing equal parts seawater and profanity from his lips. As he watched them continue their pointless struggle, fear rose in Teryk, filling his chest and flowing into his limbs. He jerked his hands out of the water, setting the raft rocking.

  If blood attracts small fish, what else might it attract?

  His head filled with an image of the God of the Deep rising out of the waves to sink the Whalebone and his breath caught.

  "Get out," he said, the fear in his chest turning to terror and squeezing his lungs so the words came out but a gasp.

  He swallowed hard, cleared his throat and opened his mouth to warn them again. A shape broke the ocean's surface behind Rilum and Bryder a mere three horse-lengths from them. Sunlight flashed on smooth, gray skin as the coil of a monstrous serpent pulled through the water. It ended in a pointed tail flicking droplets of sparkling spray into the air before disappearing beneath the sea.

  "Get out," Teryk screamed, finding his voice. "Get out now!"

  The two men ceased their watery squabble and directed their attention toward their companion. He waved his arms, frantic to get them moving and out of the water. He didn't know if they'd find safety on the raft, but it must be better than being in the sea with whatever monstrosity lurked beneath the surface. Despite his efforts to make them realize the danger, they both merely stared at him.

  "Something's after you," he shouted, beckoning them.

  Bryder half-smiled and waved a dismissive hand, as if to say a land-bound stowaway didn't understand what the sea held. He'd captained a ship since before Teryk took his first breath. But the captain hadn't seen the slick, gray coil, nor the way the smaller fish so greedily consumed his lifeblood. Might the ocean around this foreign place hold things a seasoned sailor never dreamed of?

  Rilum appeared to take Teryk's warning at face value, or he no longer wanted to be near his skipper. He drew one hand out of the water, threw it over his head scattering sparkling droplets in the sunshine, then plunged it into the brine, stroking toward Teryk and the chunk of ruined deck.

  "Coward." Bryder splashed water at the other man the way Teryk might have done to his sister as children playing in the river.

  The captain leaned back, floating atop the salty sea with his eyes directed upward to the cloudless sky. The panic in Teryk's gut coalesced with a familiar frustration he'd felt so often when speaking to his father. How many times had he wanted to tell the king things, only to experience dismissal the same way he did now at the hands of the captain? More than he'd ever hope to count.

  Rilum reached the edge of the last surviving bit of the Whalebone, leaned against it. Teryk flattened himself against the wood before realizing he'd need to help the man out of the water. The prince inched back toward the middle of the piece of deck, got to his knees and held out a hand. The sailor grasped it, using the assistance to leverage himself up and onto the raft. It bobbed and rocked under his weight but Teryk kept his position. With Seaman safely aboard and the chunk of wood settled, Teryk clambered back to the side.

  Bryder continued floating in the same place, gazing skyward without a care in the world. For an instant, the prince's frustration waned. The captain had lost his entire crew; the prince couldn't imagine how it must weigh upon the man. If anyone deserved respite, Captain Bryder did.

  Beyond the captain's prone form, the water swelled.

  Teryk's eyes widened and panic flooded through his body. He waved his arms above his head, opened his mouth, but his voice refused to issue the warning perched at the back of his throat. The swell moved toward the skipper, the smooth coil closing in on him without his knowledge. The prince slapped his hand against the water, hoping to draw Bryder's attention. It didn't work, but it brought Rilum to the edge of the raft.

  The chunk of wood tilted under his weight, making Teryk think he'd plunge into the sea with the beast stalking Bryder. Rilum Seaman stopped short of the side, a man used to where to place his feet when afloat on the ocean.

  "Bryder!" he called in a deep and booming tone.

  Teryk watched the captain turn his head the direction of the sailor's voice. A shadow fell across the prince and he knew without looking Rilum had raised his arm to point at the creature. The swell lengthened, grew, drew closer to the floating man. Bryder looked to the spot where Rilum indicated, saw the ridge of water moving toward him, and rolled onto his front, stroked for the raft.

  The prince got to his knees, the chunk of deck tilting precariously. Rilum shifted to keep his footing, placed his hand on Teryk's shoulder, no doubt expecting the normally land-bound lad to have trouble staying put. Truthfully, if the man hadn't steadied him, Teryk would have ended up in the sea with Bryder.

  The captain splashed in the water, legs throwing droplets high in the air. The block of wood he wore as a foot proved an ineffective flipper, slowing his progress toward the chunk of the Whalebone's deck. Rilum crouched, held his arms out to his captain.

  "Hurry. It's closing on you."

  Teryk glanced passed the struggling man. A snout broke through the surface of the water at the leading edge of the swell. Two black eyes stared out of the wide, flat head. A mouth split it from one side to the other, rows of sharp teeth lining both the top and bottom jaws. A menacing thing, but not the God of the Deep he'd seen tear the Whalebone apart; this thing appeared a worm in comparison, but big enough to pose a mortal threat.

  Bryder closed on the raft as the creature edged closer to him, the two of them locked in a race for their goals. Rilum shouted at his captain, exhorting to go faster, to swim harder. Teryk watched, transfixed by the captain's struggle as compared to the smooth ease with which the animal cut through the ocean. Despite the many turns of the seasons he'd spent commanding ships floating on the turquoise brine, he was no more made to be in it than a bird or a horse. His arms splashed, the shape of his
body slowed his progress, he fought to draw air into his lungs. Behind him, closing fast, the sea creature opened its mouth. Streaming water cascaded past sharp teeth, over a pointed tongue.

  The length of three men separated the captain from the raft. Teryk shook himself from the beastly distraction and leaned over the edge, held out a hand for Bryder to grab. The fingertips of his other scraped against the wood, digging for purchase to keep him from tumbling into the sea.

  The tips of their fingers brushed, and the captain ceased swimming, concentrating instead on grabbing one of his rescuers' hands. The sudden stoppage pushed his head under the surface and he swallowed a mouthful of the briny water, then resurfacing, sputtering and coughing. He waved his arms, reaching out, desperate for someone to save him.

  Teryk caught hold of his left hand as Rilum nabbed the other. The prince leaned back, eyes closed, pulling as hard as his position allowed without slipping off the chunk of wood, but the water-logged sailor weighed as much as a war horse. The sounds of thrashing and splashing assaulted Teryk's ears. He bit down, the muscles in his jaw knotting. A grunt escaped his throat as the captain cried out; Rilum called out his name, an unsettling tone in his voice making Teryk not want to open his lids.

  Somehow, the skipper jerked back as though trying to escape their grasp. The action threatened to pull the prince off balance, but he held on and kept from being yanked off the raft. He dug his heels in, pulled harder. This time, Bryder slid so easily from the sea, Teryk fell over backward still holding onto the captain's hand. He lay on his back listening as the turmoil of churned water dissipated, his own heavy breath loud in his ears. He opened his eyes, sat up, parted his lips to ask the captain if he was all right.

  The words died on his tongue. Nothing but a pink streak in the sea and the arm attached to the hand Teryk held remained of Captain Bryder. He stared at it for an instant before panic seized him. With a jerk of his wrist, he cast the disembodied limb away and scuffled backward from it, desperate to distance himself from the appendage.