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) 📗

thick and unkempt beard, a thin twig caught in it at one side like a rabbit in a trap. His hair—what remained of it—dangled limp upon his shoulders, and the smile he cursed them with lacked at least one tooth, perhaps more. Despite the grin and the calm tone of his voice, the princess suspected this to be someone they didn't want to meet alone on the road so far from help.

Danya reached for the hilt of her sword, but the thick wool garment thwarted her attempt to grasp it. When fashioning a cloak meant for the sick, ease of drawing a weapon wasn't a consideration.

"Is it a blade hidden beneath your shawl? Not what I'd expect from someone dressed in the garb worn by the Goddess' tribe. Better move your hand away."

She dropped her arm, fingers balled into a fist. Why hadn't she considered the difficulties wearing the garment might present? What good were those seasons of training with Trenan if she couldn't draw her blade when necessary?

"In fact, it be best you take it off. Seems too warm a robe for a sunny day."

"Do you know what this cloak denotes?" Evalal asked, though she didn't wait for a reply. "We're bound for Ikkundana where my companion will live out her last days."

"Ikkundana, is it? Sad for such a youngster." He glanced along the trail, then back the other way. "A shame this road don't go near the place. Take off the woolly cloak."

He lifted his hand, rested his fingers on the short sword hanging at his waist. No scabbard held the weapon; his belt pinned the bare steel against him like something he'd found and possessed no other way to carry it. Danya thought he'd most likely cut himself or the belt if he drew it in haste. Still, with her own blade hidden beneath the unwieldy tunic, she stood no chance to counter him should he attack.

Danya stole a glance toward Evalal, saw the confidence of her ruse fade and her shoulders sag with it. She possessed no more plans to get them safely away; it fell to the princess to save them.

She nodded and untied the bows holding the robe closed at the front, unwound the garment from around her and let it fall to the ground. As it slid off, her sword hand darted for the hilt of her weapon. The fellow standing before her reacted by shaking his head and laughing.

"Tch, tch. I don't think you'll be wanting to do that."

An instant later, Evalal cried out, startling her. She jerked her gaze toward her companion.

A second man had sneaked up on them while the first held their attention. Much bigger than the girl, he'd grabbed her around the middle, pinning both arms to her sides, and pressed a short blade to her throat. To Danya, it didn't appear any more than a sharpened butter knife, but enough to open the artery in her companion's neck. The girl's expression of terror drained any thought of defiance from the princess and she let her hand drop from her sword.

The man holding Evalal grinned, his attempt at a smile proving more gap-toothed than his counterpart. Besides two extra missing teeth and a twig for his beard, they might have been the same person.

Twin thieves.

"We got 'em, didn't we, Jon? Got 'em good," the second fellow said.

"That we did, me brother John." Now the first man took the time to draw his weapon. He inserted the fingers of his free hand between his skin and the belt, ensuring he'd pull the blade without severing it or cutting himself. "Lose the sword belt, lass."

Danya gritted her teeth, her pulse beating at her temple. She'd never been in a real fight before, only sparring with Teryk or Trenan or one of the other soldiers. Part of her felt nervous at the prospect of engaging this man, but the possibility of testing her training excited another part. It took one more glance at the panic in Evalal's eyes for her to give up the thought. She used two fingers to draw her sword, held it dangling in front of her to show she posed no danger, then let it drop to the ground.

"Don't hurt her," she said, staring at the first man, the point of his short sword directed at her with the practiced ease of someone who passably knew how to use it.

"We won't, but you will have to prove you can listen better. I said to take off the belt. I've a feeling whatever be in your pouch is more likely what we'd be after."

A chill crawled across Danya's skin, prickling goosebumps on her arms. The seed was the reason for this journey, why they'd left the castle and ended up on this dangerous road. It featured in the prophecy along with so many other things she didn't understand. Belief in the ancient scroll meant a link between the fate of mankind and the Seed of Life. Wasn't it worth more than the life of one young follower of the Goddess?

The second man squeezed Evalal tighter, soliciting a frightened squeak from the girl's throat. The princess didn't look toward her, but hearing her reaction brought a tightness to her chest and gut. She drew short, shallow breaths through her nostrils as she rubbed the back of her teeth with the tip of her tongue.

What would Trenan do?

A simple answer: he wouldn't have put himself in this situation.

Resigned, Danya reached down and unbuckled the sword belt, took it from around her waist, and held it out toward the man, dangling it from her fingers. She looked at the pouch drooping off it, imagined the seed inside, how its surface changed colors before her eyes, the trial she'd been through to retrieve it. Was it supposed to end this way? She might hold the fate of the