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) 📕

step faltered, and she gasped sharp breaths, waiting for the torment to cease. It slithered across her shriveled skin, tightening her muscles, which made the torment more intense. Rak'bana went to one knee, breath rasping along her raw throat. An instant later, the gooseflesh passed but left a throbbing ache in its place.

She took time to gather her energy, discovered it difficult to find. Her breathing calmed, and she became used to the irritation crawling across every bit of her flesh. She got to her feet and set out again, taking slow, deliberate paces toward the fallen Pillar. The hopeful sensation in her chest grew as the torment of her body subsided. Whatever attracted her in this direction, each step brought her closer to finding out. She skirted a deep depression in the blackened lawn left by one of the massive fireballs, then saw what drew her here.

Although the fire had reduced the legs protruding from beneath the fallen pillar to nothing but charred bone, Rak'bana realized to whom they belonged. She crept toward them, sadness choking her, and fell to her knees when she reached the burnt corpse.

"Vesi," she whispered, her dry throat throttling the word so it came out an indecipherable croak. It didn't matter; no one remained to hear her speak.

Is this what brought hope to my heart? My brother's death?

The thought disturbed her, but she realized the truth in it, and her disturbance turned to guilt.

Why should her emotions betray her by being anything but sadness and remorse at the loss of Ine'vesi? He'd lived his life with her, for her, and she for him. Goddess meant more to her than he, no other. Their births came one after the other, they'd grown up together, become priest and priestess at the same time. They'd relied on each other in good and difficult times... always. Even over the last few turns of the season, when she recognized doubt growing in him, she'd stayed with him, believed in him. How could his death instill in her any relief or hope?

Because it means he didn't make it out of the castle.

Despite the grief in her heart, she cast her gaze around the charred ground, searching for any vestige of the burnt parchment. She realized the impossibility of differentiating it from the ash fallen from the sky, the scorched grass and clothing, her brother's seared flesh, any surviving scrap carried away on the wind or deposited in the river. After a moment, she hung her head, her eyes unintentionally finding the reddened skin of her bare and scalded legs. Angry blisters covered her, many oozing fluid. She looked at her hands and arms enveloped with the same singed tissue, touched her fingers to her skull where once she'd have found hair. None of this distressed her, for Goddess willed it.

Sorrow grew from her reaction to losing her twin. Surely Goddess' will did not make her experience happiness at the death of her brother.

She let her head droop again, chin touching her tightening chest, throat knotting, but she didn't cry. The fires of Goddess' wrath had made steam of her tears.

How she wished she and Ine'vesi had parted under different terms, but how could they unless he'd acted out of faith? She considered his defiance unforgivable. The larger scale malaise of the kingdom had caused this devastation, killed countless people. She'd warned everyone who took the time to listen something like this could happen, but few heeded her words.

And now they're dead and gone.

The ache in her chest expanded, filled her. She hoped for it to end soon, for death to claim her and resolve this life's suffering without ceremony. Then she'd walk with Goddess. Once, the thought might have dispelled her despair, but she doubted it could be enough after what she'd seen, after what she'd endured. And she wouldn't be with her dear Ine'vesi. Wherever he'd ended up, it wouldn't be with Goddess.

Weariness overtook the priestess. Her shoulders sagged, her hands fell onto her thighs and a jolt of pain shot through her, catching her off guard and startling a gasp from her lips. She pulled her palms away, but the hurt spread, crawling up her arms, digging itself under her reddened skin with the care and sensation of shards of wood jammed beneath a fingernail.

Rak'bana threw her head back and cried out toward the sky. Never in her life had she wished for death.

Until now.

"Priestess."

The word cut through her pained howl as though someone spoke it with lips pressed to her ear. It brought a prickle across the top of her flesh like a thousand insects crawling along her blistered skin. The sensation balanced on the edge between tickling and torment, flirted with making her forget the anguish in her heart.

She stopped screaming, pulled her gaze from the sky.

Two figures stood on the far bank of the river, their features disguised by a rolling mist and smoke drifting from fires not yet extinguished. Her pain didn't disappear when she saw them, but it ceased to have meaning in her life. She unfolded herself one piece at a time, mimicking an awkward plant striving to reach the sun. The agony in her limbs and torso should have been unbearable, but she made her way to wobbling legs, knees waiting for an excuse to fail.

"G... Goddess?"

"You have served me well, Rak'bana." The voice emanated from everywhere, not from the misty figures. Rather than hear the words, they sank into her, a salve absorbed by her seared flesh.

The priestess diverted her eyes from the figure, feeling as though she shouldn't gaze upon Goddess. A body floated past, carried on the river's current, and she tried to shut her lids but they refused to close. Did she still have eyelids?

"I failed you. Look at what my failure forced you to do."

"The cleansing became necessary with or without