When Ravens Call: The Fourth Book in the Small Gods Epic Fantasy Series (The Books of the Small Gods by Bruce Blake (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📕

for carrying an armored man, but the horse itself wore but saddle and blanket with no barding of any kind. The rider's sword remained sheathed as he sat the animal like a veteran, all ease and comfort, but did nothing for a few moments. From behind a visor preventing the master swordsman a glimpse of his features, he surveyed Trenan and his escort leading him to the City of the Sick.

The riders reined up a few horse-lengths short of the new arrival and again, no one spoke. The swordmaster bit hard on his back teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Was Ikkundana filled with mutes?

The solitary soldier dismounted with the clack and thud of leather and mail. Half a dozen strides brought him in front of Trenan where what turned out to be the most diminutive warrior the master swordsman had ever seen tilted his head back to gaze up at him. In other circumstances, their size difference might have girded him; not so much when his foe carried a sword, and he did not. The blade's bite cared not about a man's stature.

The soldier reached up with both hands, grasped the sides of his helmet and removed it. Brown hair fell past the rider's shoulders. Dark, intense eyes bore into Trenan.

A woman!

She glared at him, her mouth curled into a snarl, and he sensed she awaited his reaction. He knew better than to give away his surprise.

"Welcome to Ikkundana, swordmaster Trenan."

The rider spun on her heel, returned to her horse, mounted, and led them behind the walls of the City of the Sick.

Trenan followed.

IV  Teryk - Serpent

To Teryk's eyes, the strip of green perched on the horizon neither grew closer nor drifted farther away. It felt as though the chunk of deck on which they floated awaited the distant shoreline's approach or flight, but the land proved hesitant.

The three men watched, waited for the sea or the shore to make their decisions. No one spoke for an age—Teryk rarely heard the other two draw breath. He endured the silence for as long as possible; when they continued not to speak, he took it upon himself.

"The day is too calm." He looked from one to the other, waiting to gauge their reaction, but neither showed any. Anger rose to his cheeks; he hadn't survived a beating and a ship sinking to die floating atop a piece of wood within sight of land. He bit hard on his back teeth and spoke through his clenched jaw. "We'll never reach the shore if we do nothing."

Still no response. How long floating here before his chance to fulfill the prophecy passed him by? What might happen to the world if the firstborn child of the rightful king died? He fought the urge to stand, yell, jab an accusatory finger toward the listless men. They'd lost their crew, and Rilum his son, so Teryk tried his best to be compassionate, but the effort grated on him. Who mourned a few dead compared to the end of mankind?

"Aye, you have a point," Rilum said after a pause. "But maybe it be for the best."

"For the best?" Teryk's voice rose in volume and pitch as his brows dipped toward his nose. "What do you mean? How can it be for the best?"

The prince cast his attention to the surrounding ocean, lips pressed tight as he searched for a reason for the sailor's response. He spied nothing but the hint of green on the horizon ahead and the endless sea everywhere else. Did Rilum know something he didn't? If so, he in no way acted eager to give up his secret. Frustrated, Teryk forced his rage back into his chest, cleared his throat, and made another attempt.

"What are you talking about?" He faced the other man. "Captain, what does he mean?"

Bryder stared straight ahead, face slack, eyes hollow. His lips parted, quivered. Teryk's frustration and anger wound themselves into a ball in his gut as he realized the man wore an expression he'd never seen on the old seaman, not even during the rageful storm. He held his eyelids wide open, and he chewed his nails without appearing to realize he did so. The unexpected shore lying on the horizon appeared to have spooked the lifelong sailor.

"That..." Bryder spoke in little more than a whisper, then paused and swallowed hard, the saliva clicking in his dry throat as if the one word had taxed him. "...Is the land across the sea."

Teryk's gaze snapped back to the green strip; it suddenly appeared menacing despite the distance between their bit of wood and the shore.

"We've gotten turned about." The prince shifted, craned his neck to peer over his shoulder, and set the makeshift raft rocking. He saw nothing but ocean around them before returning his gaze to find both the other survivors staring at him. His voice trembled as he spoke again. "Home lies ahead of us. We're saved."

"Calm yerself or we'll end up in the sea again," Rilum growled.

"But maybe it's home, right? You might be mistaken."

Bryder shook his head before Teryk finished speaking.

"Can't a landlocked fool see where the sun hangs in the sky? Don't you recognize we're past midday? The sun is to port; if the Windward Kingdom lay ahead, you'd find sunset to starboard."

"Go easy on the lad, Rilum." The captain's quiet voice lacked the authority Teryk had become used to hearing in it.

The prince watched Rilum's face redden, his eyes narrow, before he replied.

"Easy?" he blurted. "I lost my son. You, your ship and crew. The worst stroke of luck ever to strike the Whalebone with but one thing different on this voyage from every other." He raised his arm, extended a finger toward Teryk. "This lying whelp."

The sailor's accusation sent nervous and fearful energy prickling across the prince's skin. He opened his