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) 📗

and more stout, others so skinny they resembled the thin-trunked leafy trees, but their heights appeared within the width of three fingers of each other. All were hairless and unclothed, but none exhibited shame at being so any more than an animal caught without breeches.

The gray man closest to Teryk—stockier and more heavily muscled than the others—called out clear enough for the prince to catch his words. Though he didn't understand the language he spoke, his voice held a tone he recognized from the commands Trenan had barked at him countless times during their training sessions. This fellow appeared in charge.

Teryk wiped sweat from his palms on his breeches. His sun-dried clothes gave off a tangy scent of perspiration and the sea. Smelling himself thus made his belly roil; he gulped a mouthful of fresh air into his lungs, attempting to calm his nausea as he crept closer. With ten paces between him and the closest of the men, he stopped, though now he saw they weren't all male.

He crouched, hiding himself behind a bush dotted with plump red berries. Their sweet aroma penetrated his own stink, and his belly growled with hunger. He shrank back lest any of the small gray people notice his stomach's lament; finding Rilum at his side startled him. The sailor moved with such stealth, Teryk hadn't realized he'd followed.

His companion opened his mouth to speak, but the prince silenced him with a gesture. They didn't know what these things were—though his suspicions increased with each passing heartbeat—nor their intent or demeanor. No telling what they might do to the two men should they discover them watching.

Yet I find myself drawn toward them.

Teryk returned his attention to the gray figures strung out at regular intervals along the border between forest and meadow, this time looking past them at the grassy expanse beyond. The tall blades stirred with a wan breeze wafting across the field. It should have appeared peaceful, serene, but a heaviness in the air stole the inherent tranquility from the scene. Though the little people—what he suspected to be Small Gods based on the vague descriptions related in legend and lore—showed no sign of panic, urgency informed their actions.

If it's true, then Small Gods fill the land across the sea.

This thought cast the scroll and its prophecy in a whole new glow, opened it to further interpretation and made its meaning uncertain rather than more clear.

A flash at the far end of the meadow caught Teryk's attention. He shook his head, clearing thoughts he had no chance of untangling, and squinted. The light shimmered, joined by another and another, then others. It wasn't firelight—midday didn't require torchlight. It lacked the flickering of torches or lanterns.

No, the scintillating glimmers possessed the quality of starlight.

Like the stars I saw fall from the sky.

The muscles in Teryk's body tightened, his limbs preparing for fight or flight, whichever he demanded of them, but he held his place.

The shimmering glow expanded until a line of silver light emblazoned the entire far end of the meadow. Not a solid boundary, but one made of many shining pinpricks, each bobbing and fluctuating. Soon after it formed, a rumbling in the earth vibrated against Teryk's feet. The gray figures not yet set in place hurried to their positions, the stocky fellow hollering orders others passed along their ranks. Did he stand on the verge of witnessing a fight between the Small Gods of forest and sky?

"What's happening?" Rilum whispered; his words startled Teryk despite their quietness.

"I'm not sure," he replied against his best judgment, but the gray figures proved too involved in their own doings to notice them speaking. "Did you see that?"

He raised his hand, pointed at the line of dancing light and sensed his companion lean forward as though doing so enabled him to get a better view. Teryk held his breath, listening to his heart beating in his ears and noticing the vibration growing stronger. His lips parted, ready to speak of fallen stars and Small Gods, tempted to blurt nonsensical words concerning an ancient scroll and his part in a vague prophecy, but the sailor spoke first.

"Sun on steel," Rilum said. "Swords, shields, armor. Them be riders."

His observation explained both the weird light and the growing rumble far better than Teryk's flight of fancy.

A lot of horses, judging by the shaking of the earth. Why didn't I recognize it?

The vibration in the ground grew to become a sound—hundreds of hooves beating the turf. Amongst their deep-toned thrum, other sounds became plain: steel clashing against steel, men yelling and hollering.

Teryk knew not who these soldiers might be or their intent toward him, but fear clawed its way into his gullet. The onrushing army did not appear to have a similar effect on the gray figures.

The last of them settled into their positions, the heavily muscled male the lone one not taking up position in the line. On a shouted command from him, the others raised their arms, holding them straight out to the sides. Far too much space lay between them for their hands to touch—the result if they'd been a few steps closer to each other.

The drone of hoof beats grew louder, the clamor of struck metal and threatening voices growing along with it. The riders advanced close enough the prince recognized the colors and breeds of individual horses. Above them, a movement caught the prince's eye. The sky darkened, but not because of clouds crossing the sun.

Birds!

More wildfowl than Teryk had seen in his entire life, more than he'd have guessed existed. The men on horseback didn't falter as the multitude of winged and feathered bodies blotted out sunlight and sky. A heartbeat later, the enormous flock caught up to the horses, passed them. Their flight path headed toward the woods where the gray figures waited and he and his companion