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) 📕

full, his set of teeth complete. The memory of those things was hazy in his mind, separated from the present by time and distance, but the sight of them brought it back, the remembrance carrying enthusiasm and hope on its shoulders.

The sailor started out again, increasing his pace. If it hadn't been so long since he saw others like himself, he might have raised a hand in greeting. If he'd been in the habit of speaking, he'd call out a friendly hello, but his eternally parched mouth hadn't spawned words in ages.

The two men tensed at his approach and Rilum told himself they did so because it surprised them to see him here. One of them turned to the other and spoke too quietly for him to hear. When he finished, they both bent at the waist, their nervous hands working to gather items from the shore. The sailor put no thought to what they gathered until they flung the first stone at him.

It bounced off his thigh, not quite hurting him, but throwing off his gait so he nearly stumbled. The part of his face where once he'd possessed eyebrows dipped. Why did they throw rocks at him? Shouldn't it delight them to find another of their kind on these hostile shores?

A second rock flew past his ear, its odd shape causing it to whistle through the air. The sound might have delighted him if the next, larger projectile didn't hit him square in the middle of his forehead.

This time, the impact hurt. Rilum closed his eyes, shook his head. His feet tangled, and he fell, the sharp edge of a rock digging into his knee. The spark which seeing them lit in his chest extinguished like a guttering candle in a stiff breeze, replaced by explosive rage. He climbed back to standing as another stone struck him in the shoulder, a fourth in the belly.

His vision narrowed, the sea and the rocky shore all but disappearing until it appeared to him they stood at the end of a tunnel. They continued hurling stones, some striking him, most of them missing, but he no longer noticed. He increased his pace, his feet finding their way across the rugged ground as though he'd done it a thousand times before. Frantic, the two men stooped to gather more rocks, launched them without taking the time to aim; fewer and fewer of them found their target.

As the space between them diminished, they gave up beating him back with thrown stones. One turned, intending to flee, but stumbled on the closest rock and fell to the ground, flailing. The other decided on a different tack and moved toward Rilum, fists clenched.

The sailor crashed into him full-force, sending him sprawling. Before he had any opportunity to recover, Rilum fell upon him. He snagged the fellow by his wrist and yanked, rending his arm from his shoulder. Blood squirted, and he screamed as Rilum went for the man who'd tripped.

He clambered away, his face gone white, but still not as white as his attacker's. His feet churned against stones that slid out from beneath his efforts. When Rilum reached him, the stranger raised his hands in front of him, but they did him no good as the sailor clubbed him with his companion's arm.

He hit him again and again until his defensive gesture gave out, arms falling to the rocky ground at his sides. Rilum continued hitting him, the fellow's cheeks and forehead having turned shiny red, covered with his own blood and his friend's. The tang of it forced its way into Rilum's consciousness, past the reek of brine, the stench of his own body. Viscous saliva crept into his mouth and he stopped swinging the severed arm and let it fall from his tacky, blood-smeared hand.

He drew his shriveled tongue across cracked and pitted lips.

The other man's terrified screams pulled him out of his hunger-lust. Rilum turned and found the fellow had leveraged himself to his feet to stumble away toward the forest. He craned his neck to peer back at his friend's horrific death. Rilum deserted the dead man to stalk after the runner. He stooped on his way without slowing, plucked a rock from the ground twice the size of his own fist.

He caught up to the fellow in no time. The stone contacted his skull with a satisfying crunch and he crumpled as if the blow had severed every tendon in his body.

Rilum didn't bother to find out whether the man was dead or continued to live. He dropped to his knees beside him, leaned in, and tore into the soft flesh of his belly with hat few teeth remained in his head. Blood splashed across his cheeks, into his mouth, down his throat. His stomach rumbled happily.

XXIX  Teryk – Bear in the Woods

It happened so fast. Jud-dah jerking away from his captor, the ensuing chaos, pushing the woman behind himself for protection, her touch slipping from his so words faded back to indecipherable.

Two men grabbed him by the arms as he watched the man who'd imprisoned him fold to the ground, life gone from him. Their fingers hidden in the cuffs of their robes dug into his flesh, sending pain through his biceps. He ignored it, instead surprised to find slivers of sadness and compassion at the fellow called Jud-dah's death. After being locked in a barn, forced to dig beyond exhaustion, and watching the mistreatment of the woman captive with him, he shouldn't experience anything but relief at the man's execution, yet he did. Somewhere deep inside, he sensed Jud-dah and his dog might be the lesser of evils.

The other men, including the one not dressed in black cowl and robe, turned their attention toward him. He tensed, awaiting an attack. A fat drop of rain struck his temple, rolled along his cheek as lightning cut a path across