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

by Bruce Blake

  She glanced away for an instant to find the hilt of her sword and pull the weapon from its scabbard. It clunked against the wood floor boards as she laid it at her feet and straightened, the belt dangling from her hand. Ive smiled more fully and nodded, satisfied, before leaving his spot at the side of the wagon to help his partner with the horses. As soon as his gaze left her, Danya pivoted toward Evalal, allowing her face to register the surprise and concern bolting through her at Ive's mention of the pouch. The younger girl stared back at her, eyes wide but flickering with the confidence of her beliefs. As unsure as she was of continuing with the weapons merchants being the right thing to do, Evalal remained convinced the Goddess walked beside them, guiding their actions through means they'd never realize or understand. A sliver of the princess wished she possessed the same blind faith; seemed life would be so much easier.

  With a shake of her head, she put the belt around her waist and buckled it. The pouch and the seed hidden within bounced against her thigh, its touch transferring a gentle vibration through her muscle. Though she didn't understand its meaning, it lent her a measure of relief. Deserved or not, she felt thankful for it.

  Evalal helped her from the wagon until she got both feet planted on the ground. She held the wooden edge for a few heartbeats, legs wobbly from sitting on the uncomfortable bench for so long. The girl allowed her a short time to recover before touching her shoulder, requesting her attention.

  The princess faced her companion. Despite the shadows of the forest falling across her face in the approaching twilight, Evalal's features glowed with an expression resembling joy, or perhaps reverence. Danya raised an eyebrow, wondering what should bring such an aspect to the girl when their situation may be dire. Evalal responded by raising her arm, pointing past her head.

  Leery, Danya pivoted.

  Fellick and Ive remained by the horses, sorting out harnesses and setting them up to be on their own. Beyond them lay the darkening forest of cool shadows and twisted limbs. But she hadn't been gesturing toward either the men or the trees, she'd raised her arm farther. Danya tilted her head back, scanning tree trunks. She saw nothing amongst them other than green needles and gray and brown wood. Above the treetops, the sky stretched out and away, but it wasn't all the indigo of creeping twilight.

  Straight ahead, the heavens glowed emerald.

  XV Teryk - Meadow

  Darkness returned.

  At first, Teryk suspected he'd forgotten to open his eyes. He considered the possibility he might yet be falling out of the sky, but no air rushed around him or whistled in his ears. He blinked, sensed his lashes flutter—he lived, but the world no longer existed.

  "Nghn."

  The groan came from his right, startling him; the lone sound in an otherwise complete silence.

  "Rilum?"

  Another moan followed by the scrape of movement as the sailor repositioned himself. Teryk put his hand down to settle himself, touched cool, fine powder.

  I'm back under the dome of black sand.

  His chest swelled with relief while disappointment insinuated itself in his mind. Did this mean he'd experienced a false vision of the world? An illusion created by his panic or that he'd dreamed when he slipped into sleep without realizing?

  It appeared so real.

  He recalled the cool air on his face as he fell, the overwhelming awe. Could those excitements visit him during dream or illusion? He'd awoken from dreams before with feelings of loss or concern, but did he ever experience them in the midst of the vision?

  Rilum shifted again, the crunch of his boots in the sand highlighting the lack of other sounds—no crash of waves, no swirling of surf or howl of wind. It brought Teryk back from his memories to the present.

  "Rilum," he said, relieved the man lived.

  "Where are we?" the sailor asked, voice hoarse and scratchy.

  "Safe. I think."

  "Safe where? Where be the stars?"

  The prince sighed. "What do you last remember?"

  A moment of near-silence passed, then the whisper of cloth scratching against cloth. He imagined his companion rubbing his eyes, attempting to vanquish the cobwebs of sleep from his head. A deep sigh followed.

  "The thing eatin' the cap'n. Not much after."

  "We abandoned the raft and made it to shore. While you slept, stars fell from the sky. One hit the sea and created a huge wave, but the beach came to life." He hesitated, swallowed. "To protect us. A dome formed of black silt enshrouds us now."

  Teryk finished speaking and shook his head. It sounded so unreal when he spoke it aloud. The doubt he'd allowed to creep in about the veracity of his view of the world solidified. None of this could happen. Stars didn't plummet from the sky. Sand didn't move in the manner of a living thing, nor did it take the form of a woman. He didn't tell his companion the most unbelievable part.

  "It—" Rilum interrupted himself to swallow hard, his throat clicking. "It don't make sense."

  Teryk's head sank until his chin touched his chest. "No, it doesn't. I have no idea where we are."

  As the last word left his mouth, the sand over their heads parted, letting in a shaft of what might have been sunlight, but the prince couldn't be sure. He threw his forearm up in front of his eyes to keep it from blinding him. Rilum groaned as though the brightness hurt.

  With the light came warmth. It began from above, beating down on them with the intensity of the hottest day of third season, then it spread around them. Teryk glanced to his left and saw the wall of sand falling away, folding upon itself and opening on a meadow. The prince lowered his arm, his eyes becoming accustomed to what he now knew to be sunlight. Had they been under the black sand's protection long enough for night to become daytime? It didn't seem possible, but the triviality of time meant little in the face of another question.

  Where did the beach go?

  "I thought you said we'd swam to shore."

  "I..." Any explanation Teryk might give escaped him.

  The last of the sandy dome fell away. Instead of creating a swath of darkness on the emerald grass, it disappeared as though either the earth or the air swallowed it. One more mystery to which he'd never find an answer.

  His gaze wandered across the meadow and found it dotted with wildflowers of many colors: red, yellow, orange, purple, blue. In the distance, the ground rose into hills and trees sprouted, small at first, then farther away reaching high toward the sky. No matter which direction he surveyed, the view remained unchanged.

  "We're in a valley," Teryk said finally. He shifted to face Rilum. "Is it familiar to you?"

  The sailor's eyes darted, taking in the landscape. His expression gave the prince the answer before he parted his lips to speak.

  "I spent near my entire life walking the decks of the ships of merchants and kings. The land I've seen is whatever be at the ports I visited."

  Teryk thought he detected a note of regret in his companion's voice, but he chose not to mention it. Sitting in the middle of an unknown meadow didn't seem the time nor the place to delve into what made Rilum Seaman sad. Not when a prophecy threatened the fall of man.

  The prince stood. The ground beneath them remained a disk of black sand laced with gold, as soft and sugary as when they'd found their way to the shore. Two strides separated him from the edge of the misplaced piece of beach; he took those steps, stopping before his feet left the circle.

  "Where do you think you're going?"

  Teryk didn't bother looking back. The sound of Rilum's words made him realize he heard no other noises—not a sigh of wind, a chirp of birds, or the buzz of insects. A chill ran along his arms, covering the flesh with bumps.

  "I'm not sure, but what's the point in staying here?"

  "How do you know? We got here without intending. Maybe if we stay, we'll get somewhere else we don't mean to go."

  "What if the place we end up isn't a pleasant grassy field? What if it's the top of a snowy mountain? The middle of the ocean?" He recalled his vision as he floate
d high above the world and the vast blue-green sea covering the majority of its surface.

  It wasn't real.

  He returned his attention to the meadow stretching out toward him. What happened to the sounds? Did nature ever sit so still and silent? If he concentrated enough, he thought he might pick out Rilum's heartbeat competing with his own.

  Teryk diverted his gaze to his feet. The width of a finger separated the toes of the boots they'd provided him on the Whalebone from the perfect line where the sand ended and the grass began. Stepping off one onto the other shouldn't have been any different from any other step he'd taken in his life, yet his heartbeat sped, his breath shallowed. A thin band of sweat formed on his brow; if asked, he'd have blamed it on the sun but knew trepidation to be its cause.

  He inhaled through his nose, filling his lungs with air smelling of sand and seaweed and wood bleached white by sunshine, not of grass and wildflowers and pollen. The breath shuddered out of his chest; he licked his lips, raised his foot, and stepped off.

  "Tery—"

  Rilum's word cut off the instant Teryk crossed the border between beach and meadow. The silence disappeared, its dominance usurped by the calls of birds and the buzz of insects he'd expected. Amongst them lurked an odd, unidentifiable hiss. His reticence waned, allowing space for the peace brought by a glorious day such as the one he now enjoyed. The air held the perfume of flowers and meadow; they tickled his nose, threatening to bring on a sneeze, but he fought it off and pivoted back toward his companion. The source of the out-of-place sound became clear: the sandy patch where he'd been sitting was vanishing, sifting into the earth and leaving grass behind as it shrunk around Rilum Seaman.

  His companion's lips moved, but Teryk heard nothing other than the sounds of the heath. Rilum scrambled to his feet, and the sand shrank closer until the disk became just big enough for him to stand upon.

  "Step off. It's okay."

  The sailor shook his head, pointed at his ear.

  "Step off," he repeated, this time waving his hands, gesturing for his companion to come toward him.

  Rilum's eyes widened, and he shook his head again. Teryk gritted his teeth in frustration. What did he plan to do? Live the rest of his life on a sliver of beach hardly big enough to stand on? A little more of the sand fell away, the edge of the disk creeping closer to his feet. The prince wondered if it might disappear if he waited too long. A second thought occurred: if he delayed, would Rilum vanish along with it?

  He gestured again, with more urgency this time, but his companion remained resolute in his refusal.

  Another sound joined the meadow's melodic dissonance. Quiet and far away to start, so muted by distance he might have confused it with the buzzing of flies and bees, but it contained a different quality. The noise grew with each passing heartbeat. He pivoted, surveying the meadow, searching for the source.

  At first, he saw nothing but grass and flowers and trees stretching to the tree line. None of these appeared to make the sound growing in his ears; he continued scanning. The forest at the far end of the field swayed as though touched by wind, which Teryk found odd; he sensed no hint of a breeze where he stood, and the meadow between himself and the woods did not ripple.

  After a short time staring at the unusual movement of the trees, the prince realized only one patch of saplings moved. On either side, the thin trunks remained straight and true, unmoving. He squinted, attempting to figure out what caused such behavior, but it helped him see nothing more.

  The first creature broke through the edge of the woods a few heartbeats later.

  It must have been huge for Teryk to discern it from such a distance, but it remained too far away to recognize what type of animal it might be. It explained the shaking of the trees.

  "Rilum..."

  The prince stepped back as another beast emerged, then another. The space separating them made their rate of movement impossible to estimate, but a haze rose above them—dust from trampled ground—as more and more appeared. He spun toward his companion, found the sailor standing atop the small disk of sand staring past him, mouth agape. He didn't move.

  Teryk rushed by, reaching for the sailor's arm as he went, unsure if he'd be able to touch him through whatever kept out the sounds of the meadow. His fingers grasped the still-damp sleeve of Rilum's tunic, and his momentum pulled the sailor from his tiny, beach-like haven. Rilum stumbled after him, feet catching and throwing him to the ground with a grunt as the wind left his chest.

  Teryk stopped, boots skidding in the grass, and returned to the other man. He put his hand under the sailor's armpit and yanked him up, helping him find his footing. The sailor rose grudgingly, gaze fixed on the far end of the meadow. The prince halted and glanced back, too.

  The haze of dust and pollen kicked up by the creatures grew wider and taller, obscuring the line of trees. At the bottom of the cloud, many shapes moved, and he made out several colors of... fur? Flesh? Impossible to be sure but, as he watched, his heart beat faster and a sheen of sweat dampened his palms. Though he couldn't identify what kinds of beasts these might be, one thing became clear: they headed straight for them.

  The prince snatched his companion's arm and pulled hard.

  "Run," he said, feet slipping in the grass as Rilum resisted. He turned and grabbed on with the other hand, wrenching the man toward him until he gave in and followed. "Run!”

  XVI Trenan - Departure

  Trenan stood with his legs at shoulder-width, his one hand resting on his hip. Of the many times he longed for his missing arm, no instance proved as frustrating or unnecessary as the wish to cross his arms or stand with both hands on his hips. With a limb gone, half of a man's body language went along with it.

  Practice weapons impacted wooden shields with muted thunks, the two dozen women paired up around the yard perspiring in the midday heat. He'd watched the sun rise and set but a handful of times since his arrival, yet every warrior showed marked improvement, even from the impressive skill levels they already exhibited.

  If only the kingdom's soldiers learned their skills with such ease and speed.

  Truthfully, he'd have put any of the twenty-four women handpicked to prepare for a mysterious mission up against any man in the king's legion. And many of the dozens of other Goddess warriors, too. With the army of the king made up of these fighters, he'd worry little of wars being lost. How and why this battalion existed troubled him almost as much as the fact they'd kept it a secret.

  Trenan didn't move when he detected the sound of loose dirt crunching beneath boot soles. But one person dared interrupt during training.

  "They only wear their armor after dusk, Yoli. I can't talk them into wearing it while the sun is out."

  "And they will not while they are readying." A measure of the derision and annoyance present in her tone when they first met had disappeared, but not all of it. "Goddess wants them to be familiar with wielding their weapons under any circumstance."

  He'd already known her response—they'd discussed this more than once. The concept made good sense, and he wondered if he fought against it the way he did because he never considered training his own soldiers in the same manner. Differences existed between swinging a sword in full armor or in none.

  "How is Dansil?" he asked out of duty rather than concern.

  "Your man will live if Goddess desires it."

  He nodded, part of him wanting to ask for more detail. Many, including himself, might find the world a better place if the Goddess decided she desired his death. He opened his mouth to say this, then closed it again, choosing to keep his disdain to himself.

  "You have no love for this fellow," Yoli said as if he'd spoken his thoughts.

  "We have never been friends."

  She snorted a laugh. "Is this what you men call it when another plots your death?"

  "How did you—?"

  "Goddess has told us much about you, but no matter. How are the warriors faring under your guidance?"

  "They're coming
along." He stole a glance her direction, awaiting her reaction to his statement, but her expression betrayed nothing. "They will be ready if this war you talk of comes."

  "When it comes," she corrected. "But it's time for them to be ready now."

  Trenan cocked an eyebrow at her but, as usual, she didn't direct her gaze toward him. She acted as though looking upon him caused her pain, so she avoided it. He realized he reacted to Ishla in a similar fashion, because seeing her bred distress in him, but he suspected Yoli guilty of it no matter what man stood beside her.

  "The war hasn't come, but it's time to fight?"

  "It is time for your part in this to begin."

  The master swordsman clamped his jaw tight and breathed out through his nose. "I've spent too many sunrises and sunsets here. The princess' path grows colder with each morning and night the sun touches the horizon."

  "Did I not say you will see Princess Danya again soon? Do you doubt the Mother of Death through whom Goddess speaks?"

  "I don't know who this Mother of Death is. What I know is I must find the princess and return her to the king."

  Yoli scuffed her feet in the dirt, impatient with the conversation. "You will find Danya—your role involves her."

  "What role?" he demanded, his hand curling into a fist. "What is this you keep speaking of? And how does it involve her?"

  She didn't respond at once, and he knew she meant this to torture him. Given her way, they'd never have admitted him beyond the walls, but the decision wasn't hers. The fact didn't require her to act as though she enjoyed his company, however. He resisted the urge to ask again.

  "You leave in the morning," she said, pivoting on the heels of her boots. "Make sure your chosen warriors are ready."

  He waited as she strode toward the door at the side of the training yard, allowing her a few steps before he spoke again.