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) 📗

His fingers tightened, and he tugged it with a solid yank. The door swung open, smooth and silent on well-oiled hinges, and Teryk peered into the wide hall beyond. Thick carpet, ornate wall sconces, and meticulous portraits the prince recognized, though he'd never known the people they depicted.

"I'm in Draekfarren."

He spoke the words aloud without thinking, clamped his palm over his mouth as he did and faded back into the chamber. After a few breathless moments passed, he lowered his hand and peeked around the jamb. The hall lay empty in both directions, so he stepped out, bare soles padding soft carpet.

He'd been to this part of the castle, though rarely—the guest wing. Visiting nobles and their attendants laid their heads here during their visits and, judging by the size of the chamber and the style of his clothes, he must be here as the latter, not the former.

He stood in the hall for a dozen heartbeats, glancing one way then the other. To the right led deeper into the castle while the other route headed outside. He waited, expecting the guiding hand as before, and it took but the space of ten more beats of his heart before he strode to the left, not knowing if he'd chosen it himself or if another force decided for him.

A huge stained-glass window interrupted the line of portraits hanging on the wall to his right, the pattern symmetrical but nonsensical. Sun shone through, casting colored puddles of light onto the hall carpet, each of them creeping across Teryk's limbs and body as he walked. He passed three more chamber doors to his left before reaching the end of the hallway where a staircase led to the lower floor. He paused again, listened for footsteps on the stairs or the metallic rattle of an armed guard, but heard nothing. Satisfied, he descended the steps, the stone risers cool on the soles of his feet.

The stairway curved, following the inside rounded wall of a corner tower. As a child, he loved these staircases. They afforded one the ability to creep along, hidden by the wall's contour to avoid notice by someone else—a sister, for instance. Today, the same bend, the same possibility of a person hiding beyond his vision slowed his step, made him cautious. He might find an armed man a few steps farther on, or run into a noble returning to their room. Likely no matter if he did, for it seemed whoever guided him also disguised him, evidenced on his father's field of battle.

The stairway ended at an iron door, as every portal to the outside did in Draekfarren. He wondered again whether he'd find himself locked in or free to roam. He didn't hesitate this time, grasping the handle and leaning his shoulder against the metal. It swung open with ease, flooding the landing with sunlight bright enough to blind the prince while his eyes grew accustomed. Teryk squinted, filtering out the brightness while his vision returned. When it did, he gazed out on a courtyard of trimmed grass and hedges pruned into shapes with not a single a leaf out of place. Without exception, it appeared as he remembered it from his visits. He'd spent most of his life in the main gardens, but liked this terrace near as much. It possessed an air of being hidden away from the rest of the castle, a private oasis to take refuge with little fear of discovery.

The prince stepped out into the light and pushed the door closed behind him. It clanked against the stone jamb; since he'd encountered nobody thus far, he doubted anyone lurked within earshot. Outside, a flagstone path led straight away into the yard; he followed it but did so to one side, choosing to walk in the grass instead. The short lawn tickled his feet, sent a refreshing sensation up his lower legs and brought a smile to his lips. The warmth of the sun on his face and the green blades on his soles seemed so long ago, so distant. Did it delight him so other times in his life? He didn't think so, because he'd never imagined it not being a part of his world.

When you perceive no risk of losing a thing, it's more difficult to appreciate it.

The thought drove the smile from his mouth; it wasn't just sunlight and grass he'd taken for granted, but also Trenan's guidance, Danya's laughter, his mother's love. His heart ached over them; he didn't see a future in which he'd ever walk beside any of them again.

Ahead, the tumbling gurgle of a fountain reached his ears. The larger hedges of the topiary hid it from him, but having seen it before, he pictured in his mind what they concealed. His feet carried him toward it, each step silent in the grass. As he neared, the quiet murmur of a woman's voice came to him on the still air. He stopped, listened, but it sounded as though she spoke a different language. If so, it meant he remained sometime far in the past; the ancient languages had died along with the banishment of the Small Gods, spoken in secret circles, if at all.

The prince crept farther from the path, avoiding the space between hedges where one entered the topiary's cool interior to sit by the fountain and enjoy the water's music. He circled around the outside of the hedge fortress; in his memory, he'd find another small opening near the base of the largest bush. He hadn't decided if the gap occurred naturally or if his father or a previous king commanded it created on purpose—a hole through which someone might spy on their visitors. The latter, most likely.

He arrived at the spot, happy to discover it opposite the entrance to the enclave where he remembered it. Here, the hedges grew closest to the castle wall, this stretch of it blank