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

by Bruce Blake

  The yellowed grass crunched beneath their feet as they strode across the yard. Ive slowed to keep his two guests half a pace ahead of him. Partway to the barn, they encountered what had given the stocky man pause.

  The dog's death hadn't been an easy one. What remained of its tongue not picked apart by carrion eaters lolled out of the side of its mouth. The animal's bottom half lay twisted at an unnatural angle; wounds peppered its body, but Danya assumed they'd likely occurred after it died. When Evalal saw the poor beast, she gasped and turned her head away. The princess put her arm around the girl's shoulder and guided her past the carcass. Ive didn't react.

  They strode past the partially completed hole, dirt mounded beside it, the tip of a spade buried in the heap of soil. An uncompleted grave? If so, for whom? Not the dog; it was far too large even for that sizable beast. For her? She shivered and forced her gaze away from the pit, toward the listing outbuilding.

  They finished the short journey across the sad yard and stopped at the entrance to the barn. Ive stood so close behind them, Danya imagined his breath caressing the back of her neck. She stared into the barn's darkness, seeing nothing but black shapes and bits of straw where thin streams of light found their way in through cracks between the boards.

  "What did you find, Mr. Fellick?"

  "Not Birk." His voice swam out of the blackness, identifying him as a dark shape to their right.

  "I guessed it the case. He's been here, though, yes?"

  "Yeah. And five or six with him."

  "Now why would that be?"

  Ive ushered them forward, out of the sunlight and into the dim barn. Danya's eyes began to adjust, and the shapes rectified themselves into Fellick, and a series of barrels, shelves packed full, and the sad cow which had gone silent. The interior proved as much a mess as the exterior's disrepair might suggest it to be. She watched the silhouette of the big man's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

  "He kept prisoners in here. Two of them." He raised his arm, pointed to one spot on the floor then another.

  Danya squinted, trying to see what he saw. The straw seemed as though it had been disturbed, but she'd say the same about every piece of the tinder-dry material covering the ground. At the far end of the barn—the first place he'd indicated—she spied what appeared to be an iron ring protruding from the floor. But what did that prove?

  "Do tell," Ive prompted.

  "They were all over the inside," he moved his arm side to side, gesturing toward the dishevelment of the straw, "but it don't appear a struggle. No blood. A man and a woman."

  At the mention of the captives, Evalal reached out and grasped Danya's wrist, fingers digging in deep enough to hurt. She stifled a surprised gasp lest she gain their captors' attention.

  "Eight or nine people here at once, now none."

  "Plus the Juddah fella. Looks like he's in rough shape." Fellick paused and rubbed his chin. "Not as bad as his dog though. Poor love is lying dead in the field, his back broke. The carrion eaters have been at him."

  Ive nodded. "We saw the beast. And the blood." He prompted the girls deeper into the barn, guiding them more than halfway so they stood a few a paces from his partner and the array of barrels and shelves. When they stopped, he laid his hands on their shoulders, left them there. Danya clenched her teeth, hoping he'd move away. "And what's this?"

  "The Juddah fella collected some odd things." Fellick lowered his arm and moved the two steps to the nearest shelf. He reached out and picked up a clay pot. "Broken weapons, tools, jars, sundries. Nothing of concern to us. I daresay the law might have interest in the contents of a few of his barrels, though."

  "And what do these casks contain?"

  Instead of answering, the stocky man put the sole of his boot to the closest barrel and toppled it over. It struck the floor and threw up a puff of dust, the particles seeming to sparkle in the line of sunlight squeezing its way between the gaps in the wall boards. The cask's dry wood split and splintered as it hit, revealing the contents. Ive pushed on their shoulders and they moved forward, within a pace of Juddah's spilled collection. Whatever it contained gleamed a dull white, but Danya remained unsure what she looked at until Fellick stirred his toe amongst them, flicked some aside, clattering.

  Bones.

  Despite her best effort to control herself, a shiver rattled up Danya's spine. Evalal gripped her wrist tighter.

  "What...?" Danya started but stopped, swallowed the overabundance of saliva filling her mouth. "What kind of bones?"

  "Animal mostly," Fellick replied. He toed the collection again, the empty rattle enough to make the princess' gorge rise into the back of her throat.

  "Mostly?"

  He nodded. "Some come from men, too."

  Before she reacted, Ive leaned forward, inserting his head between her and Evalal. His hands remained on their shoulders. She tensed. This was the time they'd reveal their intent. Would they end up in one of Juddah's barrels? The grave in the yard?

  "See?" he said, voice quiet. "It's because of men like Juddah I insisted you travel with Mr. Fellick and me."

  He straightened without awaiting a response, used his grip on their shoulders to guide them back toward the door. The nervous worry in Danya didn't subside. Was lingering in a pot, waiting for it to boil better than being put to the flames? They walked out of the outbuilding and the princess raised her arm in front of her eyes to keep from being blinded by the sun. Evalal released her hold on her companion's forearm.

  "Where did they go?"

  Fellick appeared beside them, tilted his head away from the barn and toward the house. "Sunset."

  Ive nodded. "They're headed for the Green."

  "Seems so."

  The Green. The home of the Small Gods.

  He pushed them back toward the wagon, removed his hands from their shoulders. Danya was thankful he did, otherwise he'd have noticed her tension return full-force. Evalal reached out and grabbed the princess' hand this time, her grip hard enough to be on the edge of painful.

  "No surprise, eh, Mr. Fellick?"

  He didn't answer. Ive looked back over his shoulder, searching for his partner, and Danya couldn't help but do the same. He'd taken a different route than them, following the beaten path they'd made on their way to the barn while Ive guided them an alternate course. The big man had stopped and peered at his feet.

  "What are you doing, Mr. Fellick?"

  "Burying the poor dog." He bent at the waist, then stood, the dog's stiff carcass cradled in his arms, treating the corpse like a delicate thing, as though it might break if he wasn't careful.

  A frustrated sigh escaped Ive's lips, and he stooped close to Danya's ear. "I'm going to help Mr. Fellick. Go get in the wagon." He looked around, shrugged. "Nowhere else for you to go."

  He sauntered toward his companion as the stout man carried the dead animal to the inexplicable hole already dug in the field. He climbed in to place the beast to rest at the bottom. Danya watched for a second before turning toward the wagon. She scanned the area beyond it—nothing but the thick forest with the one narrow track they'd followed for a day after leaving Krin's tavern. Any notion of flight and escape drained out of her. Ive was right, nowhere for them to go. If they tried, they'd end up lost, or worse. Whether truly the case or not, they were prisoners of the weapons merchants.

  With realization, Danya's thoughts flashed to her brother, the prophecy. Where was he? She was convinced he yet lived, but what would happen to the world if the firstborn of the rightful king was lost?

  Evalal's grip on her hand tightened. She pulled the princess closer. Danya leaned in.

  "It's her," the girl whispered.

  Confused, Danya looked at her companion. "Who's her? What are you talking about?"

  They reached the wagon, and she glanced over her shoulder at the weapons merchants. Fellick busied himself filling in the hole, laying the dog to rest, but Ive's gaze lay upon them. Instead of awaiting her companion's reply, she gave the girl a boost into the wain
, then climbed in behind her. They each sat back where they'd been before, and Evalal leaned close.

  "The woman in the barn. Did you hear him speak of her?"

  Danya nodded, unsure what her companion meant. She must have read the princess' confusion on her face because she didn't wait for any further response.

  "It's the barren mother."

  Danya's eyes widened. On the wagon floor beside her foot, the Seed of Life vibrated.

  XIII Teryk – Sand and Sky

  The impact Teryk expected and prepared for never came.

  He continued holding his arm over his head until the muscles in his shoulder knotted with the unneeded effort, leaving him no choice but to relax and lower it. Perfect darkness surrounded him, but not perfect silence. A muted roar thrummed in his ears—not loud, but his forehead pulsed with the pressure, his eyeballs threatening to bulge out of their sockets. He swallowed hard, the wan saliva clicking in his throat.

  "Rilum?"

  He'd spoken the word aloud—his lips moving in concert with his tongue to do so—but the sound of his companion's name died as it left his mouth. He sensed nothing but a desperate rumble and bluster he realized must be the raging of the angry sea outside wherever he found himself.

  "Rilum?"

  He spoke louder this time, loud enough to hear his own voice. No reply.

  A knot formed in his chest. He didn't know the sailor well—wasn't sure he liked the man after seeing the way he treated his son—but he might be the last person he'd ever see. Now he was gone, too.

  Teryk allowed himself to slump until his ass hit soft sand. He took comfort from the silky consistency as his hands settled on the beach, sensed coolness between his fingers. Not for the first time, his heart yearned for the softness of the silk sheets adorning his bed at home. The silt flowed fine and sugary between his digits, but his bedding suffered no comparison.

  If I touched those sheets, I'd be with mother and father, Danya and Trenan.

  As much as memories of the piece of furniture itself warmed him, thinking of being at Draekfarren again brought an emptiness to his gut. Did the path laid out for him by the ancient scroll mean more to him than his own safety? He drew a deep breath and let it seep out between his parted lips.

  It has been more important since the day I left the castle.

  Teryk shifted, moving his hand to the right, fingers touching a hard surface. He snatched them back, worried whatever he'd encountered might be less than friendly, but no response to his touch came. Despising the tremor shaking his arm, he reached out again, cautious as he crossed the dark space.

  His fingertips brushed it again, and he jerked away, but the distance of half a hand's breadth this time. With no reaction again, he moved back, traced the pads of his fingers along its shape until he recognized a boot's leather sole.

  "Rilum!"

  Teryk changed position, grasping the man's ankle to give him a shake, but he stopped as he sensed a presence near his own head. Had it been there before? If so, he hadn't realized it, but now he felt it with certainty, an energy pulsing and reaching out toward him.

  At first, he sought to cower from it, to get as far from it as possible, but he doubted he'd find anywhere in the darkness to avoid it.

  Instead of shying away, he reached his free hand up beside his head. His fingers met a cool flowing substance not quite fluid enough to be water, but which he knew to be black sand.

  His contact with it lasted for the briefest of moments before the surrounding space changed. The blackness disappeared, replaced by bright light enveloping him. The mound fell out from beneath him, Rilum along with it, and the prince experienced a sensation of falling.

  Not falling—floating.

  For all he might guess, he dangled from unseen strands pulling him up and away from the world, air rushing around him as he rose. Teryk blinked hard to clear his sight but resisted the urge to rub a knuckle against each eye for fear of the precariousness of his position. The brightness soon dimmed; the light remained, but not enough to blind him. Blue surrounded him. It filled his peripheral vision, seeming to stretch on forever. He tilted his head back and found it above him as well but, in the distance, it darkened until it became black. He bent forward until his chin touched his chest, looked past his feet hanging in nothingness, and his breath caught in his throat.

  At first, he didn't understand what he saw.

  Most of it shimmered with a dark blue-green hue, large patches of green and brown breaking its consistency. Realization crept into him, and with it, fear.

  He recognized the shape of the Windward Kingdom and the Leeward Kingdom, the Inland Sea separating them. He floated above the world, seeing it in a way no one had ever seen it. Its beauty might have taken his breath away if panic hadn't already done so.

  A blue swath stretched between his home and the land across the sea, where he'd come to shore after the God of the Deep destroyed the Whalebone. The size of the new territory surprised him though he knew of no reason to think it small; he'd seen but a tiny sliver of the beach.

  To his greater surprise, other landmasses dotted the ocean, a few so tiny as to appear no more than pinpricks from his vantage point, others larger than his homeland. In their fear of the God of the Deep, his people never strayed far enough from shore to discover the world was much more than they imagined.

  How did we not realize?

  He rose ever higher until the earth shrank to a blue, green, and brown disk surrounded by darkness on every side. The swaddling sky disappeared, replaced by inky blackness; the lone source of light shone from the glow of his world far below him. Teryk didn't want to stop looking, but a compulsion to turn his head—to view anything else to see—overwhelmed him. He wished he hadn't.

  A man hung in the nothing beside him, a distance equivalent to the height of twenty men separating them. The stranger pivoted to face the prince, his visage appearing both full of rage and glee at the same time. A glow began around him, brightening until he plummeted earthward, a fiery tail streaking out behind.

  The Small Gods are real.

  And then Teryk fell, hurtling toward the world at a speed enough to prevent him from drawing breath into his lungs.

  He closed his eyes and waited to die.

  XIV Danya - Vibrations

  Despite the dirt track ending two sunrises past, Fellick guided the horses and wagon around obstacles and over hills. A few times, steeper grades necessitated they get out and pull on their harnesses, helping the animals. Not long before sunset on the second day, the trees grew nearer together, the trunks too tight to allow them passage.

  Ive sighed and looked at his companion.

  "No other path, Mr. Fellick?"

  "Your eyes work as well as mine."

  Despite the exhaustion and worry weighing on her, Danya fought back a grin at the stout man's comment. He didn't speak much but, when he did, he packed a huge dose of sarcasm into few words.

  "What's your opinion on leaving the wagon behind?" Ive asked.

  "You know how I feel. I don't give a tinker's damn about the cart, it's the wares I hate being unattended."

  The tall man straightened in his seat, one hand held up to his forehead as he surveyed the area with an unhidden display of mockery. "Can't see many thieves hiding among the brush here, Mr. Fellick. Few others are so vain as to venture so near the Green."

  "Vanity ain't why I'm here," Fellick grumbled as he lay the reins on the floorboards by his feet. He sighed and climbed out of his seat.

  Why are we here?

  The Seed of Life trembled beneath the princess' foot, its movement enough for her to notice, but not so much as to attract attention. Evalal's declaration of the woman who'd been at Juddah's homestead being the barren mother from the prophecy had started the vibrations, and they'd continued off and on since. Danya remained unsure whether it encouraged them to continue, telling her they pursued the right path, or if it meant to warn them.

  The girl's Goddess should have chosen a more preci
se method of communication.

  Ive followed his partner to the forest floor, then turned toward them.

  "Ladies, we go from here on foot. My apologies you have to leave behind the comfort and luxury of the Fellick and Ive wain but, as you can see, we have no opportunity to continue with it."

  "Where are we going?" Danya asked as she stood. Beside her, Evalal scrambled over the side of the wagon, an unexpected enthusiasm in her movements.

  "It's imperative we find our friend, Mr. Birk. It appears he has come this way, doesn't it, Mr. Fellick?"

  He grunted in response, but said nothing else. The princess shifted toward the wagon's edge, hesitant to remove her foot from the doeskin pouch and its contents. Her thighs ached, and she suspected the ride had pressed her behind flat, proving the sarcasm seated in Ive's description of his wagon. She feigned a stretch which became real and necessary, but she didn't move away from her sword belt. How to take the Seed of Life with her?

  "I thought you intended to help Evalal and I on our journey. Instead, you've waylaid us into joining yours."

  Ive tilted his head at her, half-scowled. "I believe our search for Mr. Birk and where you intend to go will end up being the same place. Funny how things work out, eh?"

  She stared at him as though doing so might uncover the meaning of his words. He no more knew where they intended to go—Danya didn't know herself—than she knew their intent. Or did he? So many unanswerable questions came to mind. If the woman from the barn was the barren mother, who'd accompanied her? And who were Juddah and Birk? Where did Fellick and Ive fit in with the prophecy? Did they mean harm to either of them? Would they offer help?

  He spoke again, pulling the princess from her thoughts. He awaited her response, but she hadn't heard what he said, so she waited for him to repeat himself. After a moment, he nodded toward her feet.

  "The sword belt, lass. Leave the weapon it holds behind, but bring the rest with you. I suspect we might want the contents of your pouch with us."

  Danya struggled to keep from reacting, hoped she kept the shock of surprise from her expression. She bent at the waist, reaching for the belt, but holding her eyes on his, waiting for him to divert his gaze. His half-scowl transformed into a grin. Did he guess what the bag contained? Had he from the start?