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) 📕

"Teryk?"

"He doesn't understand," Danya answered for him. "Or know where or who he is. Words make no sense to him."

Trenan glanced back and forth between them.

"Are you all right, princess?"

She shrugged. "They haven't harmed me or Evalal." Her eyes moved toward Ive, then crossed the space to Fellick before returning to Trenan. "But neither have they let us leave."

"My humblest apologies," Ive said, though to Trenan's ears he didn't sound either the slightest bit apologetic or humble. "But now we have your brother, our time together is drawing near its end."

Danya's face contorted as she tried to divine what the weapons merchant's words meant, but Trenan understood. Service in the king's army taught him to assume the worst. Do not expect mercy from the enemy, and give none in return. They wanted Teryk and needed Danya no more. When you're done with a thing, you get rid of it.

Ive left his place beside the princess and her companion—Evalal must have been who Trenan saw spiriting her away from the execution—and crossed the short space to Fellick and her brother. His footsteps padded in the grass, the lone sound outside the gentle waft of a breeze in the trees, the buzz of unseen insects. Trenan heard no clash of weapons, no shouts of battle. What had happened to his warriors and the men surrounding them? He thought to pivot himself around, peer back up the hill, but the scrawny man's approach to the prince might hold some threat. Although he held no weapon, Trenan readied himself to leap to Teryk's defense should the need arise.

Ive settled in beside the younger man, towering over him, a wan smile on his lips as he reached out and grabbed the lad by his shoulder. Teryk raised his gaze, his expression holding no panic or distress; Ive wasn't gripping so tight as to hurt him or cause discomfort. The weapons merchant faced him again.

"Speak to him now."

Teryk's eyes widened and he, too, looked to Trenan. The sword master hesitated, and the prince stared at him, waiting.

"Are you all right, Teryk?"

His mouth dropped open in a parody of surprise. After a few seconds, it snapped shut again, as though he realized he'd left it agape. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing. His lips twitched.

"Teryk? Is that me?"

Trenan blinked. "You are Teryk, prince of the Windward Kingdom."

What's happened to him?

XXXIV  Rilum – Not So Long Ago

One of them stirred with the sun risen enough in the sky to cast light upon the forest, but not so high as to melt the layer of hoarfrost whitening the green leaves of the brush.

The chill of the rime touched once-was-Rilum's spine. As he shifted for the first time in days, it crackled, a second skin splitting wide to allow his movement. Moments later, one of the used-to-be-men raised his chin. Eyes grown over by a thin, white film examined the trees at the edge of the clearing. Ears diminished to naught but pinpricks listened. A tongue protruding through a mouth too small for a finger to penetrate tasted the air. A nose that had melted into its face, the nostrils darker spots beneath ghastly pale flesh searched for and found his scent. Its head bent toward him.

Once-was-Rilum rose from his hands and knees. The hunger no longer burned in his gut alone; it flowed through his body, his arms and legs, threatening to tie his muscles in knots. If he looked down, he might find a hole in his middle.

He didn't. Nor did he pay heed to the one who'd detected his presence. He barely held the craving at bay. It drove him, heightened his senses so he felt every living thing around him: the little long-tails scuttling though the detritus scattered across the forest floor; the furry ones climbing in the trees; the fliers; the creepers. Only the small ones nearby—larger prey had scented them and given them a wide berth. He caught the odor of a sharp-tooth, but too distant for him to catch.

For the first time in many sunrises, he took a step. Time to feed.

***

By the time he'd collected enough of the smaller creatures, all four of them were awake and standing. They remained together in a group in the middle of the clearing, staring at him as he approached. How could they bear to be so near one another when the hunger must be on them the way the orange fungus insinuated itself in the bark of the trees? Whenever he woke from a sleep, blood lust forced him to eat any living thing close to him.

They watched him stride out of the woods, three of the furry climbers and two long-ears dangling from his blood-soaked hands. He'd resisted the hunger until it made him dig his fingernails into one of the long-ears. He'd pulled free a handful of its innards and smeared them across his face before bringing them to the huddled group. A string of intestines still hung from the eviscerated animal, a loop of wet, pink insides dragging on the ground collecting rotting needles and bits of dirt on its tacky surface.

One of the four stepped away from the others. The remaining patches of long hair on its head identified it as the fellow once-was-Rilum thought of as their leader. He ate first when he left food for them, drank water before his mates. No noticeable difference between them suggested why. Perhaps in their previous lives, he'd been in charge and it carried through to their new existence within the hunger.

The hole in the fellow's face where men had mouths stretched open and a sound like rocks rubbed together found its way out. An attempt to communicate from one without the ability directed toward another with no possibility of understanding. Once-was-Rilum continued his