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

by Bruce Blake

  His gut knotted, and he tugged hard against his captors' grasp, trying to free himself, though he didn't know what he'd do if he succeeded. She couldn't hear him if he yelled, couldn't see him any more than she saw the shaggy black beast. And the shimmering veil kept him from reaching her side.

  How did she get over there?

  The thought popped into his head, swallowed right away by swirling emotions. The two robed men held him fast, and Birk stepped up beside them, his face a hand's breadth from the wall.

  "Gidub," he yelled. "Gidub anrun."

  Again, Ailyssa made no sign the words found her ears. The urge to call out and warn her dropped the nameless man's mouth open, but no sound emerged. He realized the futility in trying. Despite having understood and being able to speak when in contact with the woman, his mind failed him as to what he'd say. Likely nothing more than a grunt.

  The beast took one slow step after another, creeping through the brush toward its prey. She tensed, the cords in her neck prominent. It appeared the urge to flee gripped her body, hardening her muscles, but her lack of sight kept her in place like a plant rooted to the ground. Her nostrils flared as the animal moved close enough for her to detect its odor.

  The nameless man imagined how it must smell: musty and musky, a mixture of damp fur and carrion breath. As much as he wished for her to run away and save herself, another part of him hoped for the beast to finish her quickly, minimize her pain. How awful for her to kneel in this strange place, helpless and awaiting her death at the fangs and claws of a fearful brute.

  Less than the length of an arm separated the animal from the woman, the threat so palpable even Birk watched. The nameless man's jaw gyrated, grinding his teeth together, but he couldn't stop himself. His tongue pressed hard against the roof of his mouth, his hands curled into fists.

  Ailyssa flinched with the waft of the beast's exhalation on her face. Her expression contorted, twisting with strain and fear. The nameless man held his breath, wanted to look anywhere else. Rain ran from his hair into his eyes, and he blinked it away, unable to remove his gaze from Ailyssa's impending death.

  But the animal halted as though the aroma it detected did not lend itself to feeding. It got no closer, nor did it retreat. Ailyssa continued her prolonged flinch, recoiling from the hot breath on her cheek.

  Time slowed. The rain grew heavier, more and more droplets pounding the green curtain until the near-constant fireworks playing across its surface hid Ailyssa and the beast from sight. He struggled to lean closer, blinked more water from his eyes.

  Through the occasional break in the spidery, verdant lightning, he spied his friend raising her arm, reaching toward the animal. Its lips peeled back, exposing the sharp teeth hidden in its maw.

  What is she doing?

  Her hand neared the beast's mouth, its snarl appearing to continue, deepen.

  "No," Birk called out. "Stawpid."

  A gust of wind pushed a sheet of rain against the veil, the sudden explosion of gnarled green fingers obliterating his view of them. Raindrops slammed against his back, his captors' black robes snapping and waving. When it subsided enough to see again, it revealed Ailyssa standing, one hand on the animal's head. The beast's lips relaxed, hiding its teeth again, its demeanor noticeably different. Its hackles lay flat, the tension in its muscles diminished. Ailyssa's physical attitude mirrored the creature's, the fear and strain in her face gone.

  Birk took a step toward the veil until his nose threatened to brush it. He raised his hand, slammed it against the shimmery wall. Green shot out from the impact, like cracks in thin ice, widening and lengthening as he left it resting upon the surface. Once again, the crawling light hid woman and beast from view. The nameless man wiggled and contorted, trying to peer between the arms of lightning, but to no avail. After a time creeping by at the pace of a snail working its way up a hill, Birk removed his palm, and the fissures dissipated. The visual interference eased back to the spider webs caused by the rain.

  Mouth agape, he leaned forward, the two robed men allowing him the slimmest bit of movement. At first, he thought his eyes might have fooled him. He blinked hard to clear water and fear from them, but the scene before him remained unchanged.

  Gone.

  The bushes where Ailyssa had knelt, and then stood, lay flattened, a telltale sign of her presence. Nowhere did he see the woman who'd made the indentation in the brush, nor the animal on which she'd laid her hand.

  "Dammit," Birk snarled and slammed the edge of his fist against the veil.

  The long cracks shot across its surface again, as though it might break into huge, green shards. At the same instant, lightning streaked across the sky, turning twilight into day. Thunder assaulted their ears. The nameless man stared straight ahead at the spot where the woman who'd allowed him to understand had been. His heart ached at her absence, his mind reeled. Where did she go? Did she still live?

  What in the name of everything holy was happening here?

  XXX Rilum – Long Ago

  For a while, he wished he hadn't killed the men on the beach.

  The sentiment lasted only a short time, then he remembered how their meat had sustained him for so long. After gnawing the last shred of flesh from their bones, he'd spent an indeterminate number of days wandering the shore, hoping to find more of their kind. Whether he'd have slaughtered them to eat or befriended them, he didn't know.

  But no other men or beasts presented themselves, and hunger drove him back into the forest. The creatures of the sea stayed where they were and the animals of the woodland loathed the rocky seashore. So he came to be sitting atop a rotting log, its surface covered with moss intent on leeching every bit of moisture and nutrient from the wood before rot turned it to dust.

  He raised the dead crow to his mouth. He hadn't killed it himself, though he wished he did—fresh meat dripping with warm blood always tasted so much better. He'd found the bird deceased on the forest floor. Whether it'd died because its time was up or because some predatory creature wounded it and abandoned it to die, he cared not. Either way, his grateful belly rumbled appreciation for its sacrifice.

  The bird's black feathers tickled his lips. He opened them as wide as possible but couldn't spread them far enough for his three remaining teeth to tear a piece of its flesh off. He growled in the back of his throat, thick saliva sticking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and lowered his hand. With the other, he dug a nail—when did they get so long? —into its meat, slicing downward. He repeated the action beside the first incision, pulled a strip of food and plumes away from its breast. Fat white maggots spilled out, some landing in his lap, others bouncing off his leg to disappear into a crevice in the log or lost on the loamy forest floor.

  He stuffed the crow filet into his gob, feathers, grubs, and all, forcing the chunk of sustenance between his lips with two fingers. When did it become so difficult to open his mouth? So much time, so many changes.

  The rotten wood pressed against his ass as he sat, his jaw the only part of him moving as his last three teeth worked to tenderize the meat. When he swallowed—the piece as whole as when it'd passed his lips—the sharp spines of the bird’s feathers raked his throat, brought the flavor of blood to his tongue. He ignored it, plucked another strip from the bird, and forced it between his narrow lips.

  As he chewed, he gazed out into the forest. Everything around him had taken on a gauzy, white hew in the time after he'd feasted upon the rocky shore. At first, he suspected a change with the world, but what began a mist became a fog, and now a gauze, and it stayed with him day and night, relentless.

  When did it become so difficult to see?

  XXXI Danya - Reunion

  They trudged over uneven ground, the trees dense enough around them Danya no longer knew one direction from another. The odd time the heavens peeked through the canopy of limbs above, she glimpsed stars dangling in the night sky. Before she and Teryk discovered the scroll, she gave little thought to the legends of the Small Gods. N
ow, whenever a dot of brightness sprinkled across the darkness did so much as shimmer, she wondered what it might mean. More than once she imagined she spied light streaking through the dark, always at the edge of her vision.

  Evalal gripped her hand to prevent them from becoming separated as they followed Fellick, Ive trailing behind. She didn't doubt the stout man knew where they headed, but she felt less sure she wanted to go with him.

  "Worry not, princess," Ive said as though he'd listened in on her thoughts. "We won't let anything happen to you."

  "We're not worried," Danya replied and squeezed Evalal's hand like the girl needed reassurance, not herself. "I don't know where we are."

  "Close, yes, Mr. Fellick?"

  The stocky man offered no response. The younger girl looked up from watching her footing, met the princess' eyes. They peered at each other for a few moments, Danya searching her companion's expression for any sign of her thoughts.

  What did the Mother of Death say?

  Whatever she may have said, it appeared to give Evalal reason for calm. The princess opened her mouth, tempted to ask it aloud, but closed it without speaking. No matter how Ive framed things, she must assume they held ill intentions in their hearts.

  The Seed of Life bounced against her thigh as she walked, struggling to slow her racing heart, unknot her clenched gut. She rested her hand on the pouch, hoping for the hard seed to offer her the comfort for which she searched. It didn't. It pressed against her palm like any other inanimate object—no energy, no vibration, no relief. Danya sighed and diverted her attention to watching her footing, searching for distraction if unable to find peace.

  She allowed her thoughts to drift to Teryk.

  What has befallen my brother?

  She found herself at a loss trying to remember their last interaction. She hadn't known at the time he planned to go off on his own to fulfill the prophecy. Did he offer subtle hints about his plan? After all those turns of the seasons as both siblings and best friends, did she miss him telling her his intent?

  The forest turned to sparse saplings, and then the trees gave way to brush. The scrub thinned, disappeared, and yellowing grass brushed her calves, reached up toward her knees. Surprised at the sudden change, Danya raised her head.

  Ahead of them stood a verdant wall unlike anything the princess had ever seen. It stretched from ground to sky, reaching high enough to make trying to see its top put a kink in her neck. The entirety of its surface glimmered with an ethereal light so dim it might not have glowed at all, yet so unmistakable, she didn't doubt its luminescence. On the other side lay a world painted green. Thick-trunked trees reached toward the wall's upper edge but fell well shy. Clusters of foliage clogged the space between them, and a wind she saw but which did not brush her cheek waved the branches and shook the leaves.

  "What—?"

  "The veil," Evalal whispered, leaning closer and gripping her hand tighter. "Beyond lies the Green, the land of the Small Gods."

  "Correct," Ive confirmed. "Mr. Fellick assures me we near our goal."

  Danya scowled—she hadn't heard the stocky man utter a single word. Did Ive know his partner's thoughts? It didn't seem likely, but he'd shown the apparent talent more than once in the time they'd been traveling with the pair. It made her want to shiver.

  They covered half the distance from the edge of the forest to the shimmering veil before Fellick amended their course, directing them leeward, away from sunset and the wall. Despite turning from the green barrier, it held Danya's gaze. She squinted, peering through its translucence. It appeared a curtain of light, looked not solid enough to keep the wind on one side from blowing to the other, never mind imprisoning the Small Gods and preventing her world from entering.

  The princess released Evalal's hand, allowed her path to drift toward the veil. The girl made a sound behind her, a sharp exhalation between her lips Danya recognized as a muted warning, but she ignored it. Her arm dropped to her side, the tips of her fingers brushing the tops of the grass. As she approached the wall, she noticed occasional jagged lightning flickering across its surface and wondered what caused it.

  "Princess."

  Ive's voice floated to her ears, but she paid no heed, the veil enthralling her. Three more paces carried her within arm's reach of the shimmering curtain. She raised her hand, hesitated as a butterfly with black highlights on the edge of its white wings fluttered past her face. Its erratic flight brought it closer to the wall until one wing touched and lightning crackled silently outward from the contact point. The insect dropped to the ground. Danya inhaled a surprised breath and crouched, searching amongst the tall blades to find it. She found it creeping along a broad fern and she held her palm out. It crawled onto her finger, its legs tickling her skin with surprising energy before it took to the air, choosing a path away from the veil.

  Danya stood again, raised her arm, extended her fingers toward the green curtain. Her fingertip hovered the width of an eyelash from its surface.

  "Princess."

  Ive's voice startled her. She jerked from the shimmering barrier and spun to face him like a child caught sneaking a treat. She rubbed her hand on the front of her breeches, her finger tingling where the butterfly's tiny feet had walked upon her. Her forearm brushed against the pouch dangling at her waist and the Seed of Life shivered against her thigh.

  "We should not tarry. Mr. Fellick says we have a distance to travel to reach our goal. We must make haste to arrive while the sun is high in the sky."

  The thin man took her by the arm and guided her along with him. His grip wasn't tight or harsh, and she allowed him to lead.

  "You will want to complete this journey, princess. I believe we'll find someone you'd like to see."

  Danya glanced back at the Green, and a movement caught her attention. She squinted, attempting to make out the cause. The rustling of branches continued until a shape emerged—a large, hairy creature with pointed ears, a thing of nightmares.

  It didn't notice her and the others, nor did her companions see the beast. By itself, the animal might have thrown a scare into her, but the woman walking beside it, one hand touching it, fingers gripping the fur at the scruff of its neck, caught her attention. She wore her hair cropped close to her head. Her eyes stared straight ahead as though not seeing what they gazed upon. A distinct aspect of sadness, despair, and loss marred her features.

  The Barren Mother.

  ***

  The nameless man sat on the log, hands in his lap, staring at Jud-dah's body twisted on the ground. Pain contorted the dead fellow's face, a reflection of the last thing he'd experienced before his life ended. For the entire morning, the men in robes milled around the corpse without moving it or covering the excruciating expression. Birk kept busy preparing a modest meal for himself and his captive, though none of the others partook.

  With the sun approaching its zenith, all but three of the robe-wearers left, trudging toward the forest with not a sound from anyone. If their leaving surprised or upset Birk, he made no sign of it. As his captor continued preparing their meal, the man from across the sea watched plump flies flit around the corpse, landing in the dead man's open wounds to dine before taking drunkenly to the air again. He avoided inhaling too deeply for fear he'd smell or taste the ripening flesh wafting to him. Staring at the blind eyes and knotted beard, he recalled the prison-barn and its sundry contents—the shelves packed full, the mysterious barrels. What sort of fellow possessed such a collection?

  A lonely one.

  The voice in his head belonged to Ailyssa, so clear he almost looked up expecting to find she'd crept up behind him. He didn't, knowing she'd gone, led away by a ferocious-looking beast and leaving him alone in this foreign world, a place he knew neither how he'd gotten to or where he'd come from. He remembered nothing of himself before being in the sea as a monster rose to destroy a ship and then waking on the beach, Jud-dah standing over him.

  The chain affixed to his ankle clanked as he shifted on the log in se
arch of a more comfortable position. He leaned over and grasped a handful of links, picked it up and rattled it, the loose end attached to nothing. The sound attracted Birk's attention and their eyes met. The nameless man frowned, held the restraint out toward his captor and shook it again. If it served no purpose, why should it continue chafing his skin and weighing him down?

  Birk crossed the space between them, crouched in front of him. His lips curled upward but lacked both humor and happiness, the angle of his mouth suggesting a crueler mindset. He reached out and grasped the chain near his ankle.

  "Nod gunna cumov." The smile became a grin, like he kept a secret no one knew and he refused to tell. "Idsalok widnokee."

  The nameless man tilted his head and frowned. Why did he understand the words with Ailyssa's touch on him but at no other time?

  Birk let the constraint drop to the ground with a clank. "Yer daman frumac rossdasee."

  A knee popped as he stood. He winced, shook the discomfort from his leg. The nameless man seized the opportunity, lunging forward and grabbing his captor's wrist. Startled, Birk jumped back, jerked his arm to get away, but the prisoner held on.

  "Ledgo," he cried, his voice higher pitched than before. "Gidim offamee."

  Discouraged to find grasping Birk didn't offer the same effect as did Ailyssa's touch, he let go as his captor yanked again. Momentum sent him stumbling backward. The nameless man recognized the opportunity to overpower him and escape, but more hands grabbed him, forced him back on his log.

  ***

  They stopped once during the next leg of their journey. Fellick pulled rations out of his pack, handed out cured meat and chewy bread to everyone without a word, and they ate in silence. With no chance to relate what she'd seen to Evalal, Danya began to wonder if she might have imagined what she saw. When they finished eating, Ive produced a wine skin he passed around. She hesitated when it got to her, but thirst overcame reluctance and she felt relieved when she found it contained water instead of wine. She gulped two mouthfuls before the tall man took it back, and they set out on their way again.