When Ravens Call: The Fourth Book in the Small Gods Epic Fantasy Series (The Books of the Small Gods by Bruce Blake (books under 200 pages txt) 📗

But he didn't find out. Each time he lifted a foot and set it ahead, a stump of sand rose to meet it. The muscles in his legs threatened to cramp, his forward progress slowing as though he ran on the same down mattress that had caught him a moment ago. Seawater flowed all around him, burbling and rushing, begging him to return to the sea, threatening to take him. Behind it, a constant roar came to his attention, almost unnoticeable for its consistency, but rising with each passing heartbeat. He craned his neck to peer over his shoulder; his feet tangled, throwing him to the ground.

Teryk extended his hands, ready for the impact, to disappear into this foreign land or for the sea to sweep him away, but neither happened. His palms hit soft, dry sand, sank in up to his wrists. He struggled to right himself, return to his flight from death brought on the gigantic wave rushing toward him, return to trying to reach the comfort of at least dying at the side of his companion, but the ground undulated beneath him. It counteracted his balance, kept him prone while propelling him forward.

It carried him fast enough for the wind to stir his hair. He shifted, heart beating hard in his chest, but every time he did, the grains manipulated him, carrying him on and up, until the mound deposited him beside his companion. Teryk grabbed Rilum's shoulder and gave the still-sleeping man a shake.

"Wake up." The prince scrambled to face the beach as the sailor groaned but didn't stir.

The gigantic wave towered so high it devoured the sky, roaring as it did like an enraged beast. To his right, a double column of black sand swirled up in the air, the two twisting round each other and reaching skyward. He cowered from it. The urge to crawl away from this new threat overtook him, and he'd have done so if the mesa on which he stood didn't end immediately behind him. It rose to a greater height than Teryk realized making any backward movement a danger to send him plummeting to the ground below, a distance beyond his guess.

The twisting sand rose high above him in a black pillar flowing like liquid. It bulged in places, the bottom of it splitting into two narrower stanchions holding up the rest. Another pair split off higher up, these defying nature by hanging downward without detaching. It resembled a tree, twisted by time and weather, but then the trunk changed, assuming an hourglass shape. At the top, the column first thinned, then widened again, ending in an oval. Teryk gaped as it whirled and swirled, rectifying itself into a nose, cheek bones, a mouth—the dark visage of a female face.

As awe and wonder consumed the prince, panic leeched its way into his chest and the roaring of water filled his ears. The sand woman blocked his view of the sea, but the earsplitting sound left no doubt the huge wave bore down upon them.

In the space between her arm and body, he glimpsed the water wall. It towered higher than the top of the swirling pillar, its apex curving downward, ready to wash Teryk and his still-sleeping companion from the world.

At least he won't know what happened.

He imagined he saw driftwood and seaweed carried inside the wave, and fish and sea creatures of many kinds. He tensed, imagining for an instant he might have the strength to resist the sea's power. As it lurched toward him, the sand woman collapsed.

Teryk threw his arm in front of his face and screamed as blackness surrounded him.

XII  Danya - Juddah's

They sat in the wagon, none of them moving, Fellick and Ive in the front, Danya and Evalal behind them, as though part of their wares. They stared across the overgrown yard toward the one-level house and the barn leaning like a thing long ago run out of energy and in need of a rest. The princess didn't know what to do; she'd found no opportunity to tell her companion of the barkeep's warning, and her sword belt with the pouch-bound Seed of Life remained lying on the wagon's floorboards. Without guidance, she settled for stretching her neck to peek past Fellick's wide back.

The long grass lay beaten, patches of the yellowed blades tinted with what resembled rust. Even the princess' untrained eye understood the severity of the struggle necessary to cause it, as well as what discolored it in uneven strips. A heap of earth beside a deep hole caught her attention, the spade used to dig it sticking out of the mound of dirt.

A grave?

Her normal curiosity would have prompted her to peer into its depths to see what it held, but she possessed no such desire this time. The conflict suggested by the broken grass gave her a good idea of what she'd most likely find: the man Krin referred to as Juddah.

Danya shivered. Beside her, Evalal sat unmoving. If the princess wasn't sitting close enough to sense her heat, to hear her occasional deep breath, she might have worried someone cast a curse to transform her into a statue. She resisted the urge to reach out, lay her hand on the girl's arm or shoulder to make sure she yet lived.

A gust of wind wafted through the clearing, rustling the still-standing blades of grass, coaxing an eerie moan from them and blowing Danya's hair into her eyes. She shivered and brushed it aside, shifted her gaze to the pouch tied to the discarded sword belt. It lay less than two hand-widths from her boot; no way to reach it without being seen. Her logical side argued against the need to—it contained naught but an over-sized seed. But she knew that wasn't quite true.

She slid her