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) 📕

giving him space to obey her command without opening a vein in his throat. He did so, wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The leader stood taller than the others, and the way she held herself suggested not merely pride and a touch of defiance but spoke of more than a little training. But how was it possible for a woman to learn the arts of war in the Windward Kingdom without Trenan's knowledge?

The answer came on the heels of the question: she didn't learn her craft in the Windward Kingdom.

How did their enemies infiltrate so far into their homeland?

The woman's gaze roamed to his feet and back up again, resisting like a thing dragged against its well. Upon completion, one side of her upper lip curled in an undisguised expression of disgust.

"I do not deign to know Goddess' mind, but this..." She pursed her lips and spat on the ground as though attempting to expel something she found distasteful. She didn't finish her sentence, didn't need to say more. Instead, she spun on her heel and strode along the avenue, turning her head to cast a final word over her shoulder. "Come."

The pikewomen responded in unison as if they'd practiced many times. One stepped back, moving her weapon from his path but keeping it close to the side of his neck. The other shifted hers behind him, tapping him on the shoulder blades with the shaft and prompting him to follow. He did as they wanted, doubtful they'd hesitate in skewering him if he did not.

The woman leading them walked five paces ahead, her leather armor creaking and her boots crunching on the pebbles spread across the road. Hearing this, and the steps of the women behind them, Trenan wondered how they'd crept up on him before. Could it be he'd fallen asleep?

Impossible.

Too much training and too many desperate situations had squelched any possibility of unplanned dozing from him long ago. No, something had aided them in their stealth.

They traversed the streets in silence. No one watched their passing from high windows, no pedestrians, horses, or wagons shared the avenues with them. The woman led them, walking with confidence as she took corners and navigated roundabouts. Trenan didn't bother to glance back to confirm the business ends of the two pikes remained directed at him; he practically felt their pointed tips pricking his flesh. The softness of their tread made them stealthy warriors, but did they know how to wield the weapons they held? Their stances and bearing suggested yes, but many men believed females weren't meant to take lives, only to give them—as mothers, nurses, caregivers. Trenan didn't count himself amongst those who agreed with this opinion; he'd seen Danya's skills grow beyond her brother's too quick to doubt other women might not possess the same capability.

By the time they rounded a fifth corner, Trenan's patience wore thin.

"Where are you taking me?"

The lead woman stopped, turned, and closed the distance between them with a swiftness to her pace. Trenan considered taking a backward step, but he assumed doing so meant the tip of a pike or two penetrating his flesh. She halted a hand's breadth in front of him, tilted her head back to stare up into his eyes. Her gaze held not a modicum of fear, nor any respect.

"Do not mistake my silence as permission to speak, male." The words squeezed out between clenched teeth, weighted with disdain and distaste. "I do Goddess' bidding and no more, so do not test me."

She spun away again without giving him any chance to respond. An instant later, he felt the jab of a pike at his back, encouraging him to follow. He did, his own jaw clamped tight. In other circumstances, he'd be searching for the first opportunity to relieve one of them of their weapon and make his escape but after finding their way deep into the heart of the city, he realized he didn't know how get out of the place.

Three more turns and Trenan detected sounds other than footsteps and armor-song for the first time. It sounded an uncertain tumult, one which might have been made by any number of sources. But as they rounded a last corner, they came onto a straight avenue running straight to its end at a pair of wooden gates. Though some distance of dirt road lay between them and the portal ahead, he recognized the noise emanating from behind them. He'd heard the clang and clatter of weapons too many times not to recognize it.

His step hesitated and the cold metal of a pike tip brushed his neck, prompting him to continue. He did, a curse for the weapon-bearer teetering on the edge of his pursed lips, his arm tensed as he strained to keep from striking out at her. No doubt he'd best any two of these women in a fight—maybe all of them—but the matter of their weapons and his lack of the same changed the likely outcome.

Her response came in the form of the clop of hooves and creak of leather. The woman leading their party didn't bother looking back at him. With surprise on his side, he might take out two or three of them before the business end of a pike penetrated his body, but no doubt it would result in his blood wetting the dirt road. Best to wait for a better opportunity; one always came.

"You seemed as though you awaited my arrival," he said, defying the leader's most recent admonition, but if he couldn't fight, keeping quiet wasn't an option. "How did you know I'd be here? Is the princess here?"

His last question finally begat an answer. The woman came to an abrupt halt, faced Trenan with an impatient and humorless expression upon her face. The swordsman halted, too, this time without the touch of cold steel on his