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) 📗

"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