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) 📗

the other off-guard. His talons found the soft flesh of his longtime companion's belly, sank in to his second knuckles. Blood spurted across his hands, combining with the congealed fluid from the fur-covered beast. With his other hand, he reached for the other's throat, but he'd lost the luxury of surprise and his adversary caught his wrist, twisted hard. Another snap and pain surged up his arm, through his shoulder and chest.

He'd felt this kind of agony before. They were efficient hunters, but sometimes their prey proved too strong. As before, he ignored it, intent on his goal, determined to save the man.

XL  Horace - Savior

The second faceless came outta nowhere, pluckin' the first from the air before it had the chance to tear Horace and the woman into pieces.

She curled up against him, warm and shiverin', not seein' what went on nor makin' any kinda sound. For himself, he wished he couldn't see what were happenin', either, but when he made a try at closin' his eyes, he found himself unable to do so.

So he watched them roll across the ground. He heard a pop, a snap, but weren't sure if it came from one o' the things or if they fell on top o' branches what broke underneath them. The blood what spurted out, though, were definitely from them.

Neither o' the pale abominations made a noise as they fought other'n the sound o' their limbs thrashin'; no snarlin' or growlin', gruntin' or groanin'. They moved quicker'n Horace'd ever seen a livin' creature move. He watched mesmerized, forgettin' his life and the life o' the woman in his arms was in danger from these creatures.

But why'd one attack the other?

Made no sense, but no chance he'd figure it out any more'n divining the reason for the tides or how a fish holds its breath so long. Last two didn't matter, either, just the way things was. They was alive. Nothing else mattered.

They tore at each other with their overgrown nails, the sound o' rippin' flesh enough to make the ol' sailor's stomach do a flip. He wrenched his gaze away, and it found the third o' the creatures what'd stopped gorgin' on the furry beast to find out what its fellows got up to. When it spied them, it abandoned the carcass, beatin' a straight line through the underbrush toward the fracas. Seein' it dartin' their general direction prompted Horace into movement o' his own.

"Come on," he said close to her ear but not expectin' any o' the pale terrors'd hear amongst the ruckus o' their fight.

He tightened his grip around the woman's shoulders, turned her from the bloody skirmish, and began herdin' her away from danger. She allowed him to do so, cringin' and startin' with each sound o' talons tearin' flesh. He couldn't imagine how terrifyin' it must be for her not bein' able to spy what made them horrible noises. Plus she were lettin' a man she didn't know lead her into the woods. Horace suspected if the roles was reversed, he'd likely curl up on the ground and wait for his turn to die.

The woman were much braver than him.

As he guided her away, steerin' her around fallin' log traps and pokin' branches, he glanced back o'er his shoulder time and again, makin' sure no abomination followed. None did. Instead, the third of the creatures joined the first two in their grisly wrestlin' match.

The three o' them stayed on their feet, tangled together as they tore at each other. Blood smeared most ev'ry exposed bit o' pale flesh and they was so intertwined, it made it impossible to tell one from the next—not that Horace'd've been able to recognize any if they stood in front o' him smilin' mouthless smiles.

One o' them raised an arm what dangled in a spot where a joint shouldn't've been, but it didn't notice this inconvenience. It swung the arm, usin' the bottom part and hand like a whip to attack its compatriot. Another had a chunk torn outta its belly and a purple curve o' its insides bulged through the jagged wound. The last sported a long gash on its face, skin pulled back and away like a taut and ripped piece o' canvas. Horace thought he spied features what belonged to a man hidden behind the white flesh.

The sight o' such a thing nearly gave him pause, but by then the woman got movin' of her own accord, makin' it her turn to keep him goin'. He diverted his attention to watchin' she traveled a clear path what wouldn't trip her up. Five paces passed under their feet before he couldn't help but look back one last time.

The thing with the split in its white, fleshy mask stared right at him, the pale skin gone from the features what hid beneath. No doubt he gazed upon a face what'd belonged to a man. Despite the blood coverin' cheeks and forehead and nose, he felt a spark o' familiarity in his chest what flared enough to make its way into his noggin, too.

Before he scrutinized the blood-soaked face, the others grabbed it, pulled it down toward the ground and outta his line o' sight. Horace's heart skipped a beat or two, knowin' he should've recognized them eyes but unable to place them.

He shook his head, put the thought from mind. The things what wanted to kill and eat him had given him the opportunity to.

XLI  Rilum – Now

The second other slammed into them and once-was-Rilum heard another snap, but recognized the sound didn't come from him. His leg made the first noise. Even now, as he stood fighting with his companions over this man his mind called 'father', the jagged ends of the broken bone grated and ground together, pain like he'd never experienced shooting along his thigh.

For the first time in forever, he sensed