And Night Descends (The Third Book of the Small Gods Series) (30 page)

He reached out shaking hands to take it from Thorn, but the gray man refused to give it to him. Sticky spit found its way onto Kuneprius’ tongue. He licked his lips and anger grew inside him.

Why won’t he let me have it?

But his ire extinguished when Thorn extended his arms and held the vessel up to his friend’s lips, tilted it toward him. The cool water brought instant relief. He gulped the single mouthful, trying not to spill a drop but, despite his best effort, one escaped the corner of his mouth and rolled down to his chin. Thorn took the leaf away and Kuneprius stuck his tongue out to collect the stray droplet.

“Where did you find water?” he asked; his voice remained but a shadow of its former self.

“Thorn is of the forest and the land and knows how to find water.”

Eyes widening, a sensation bloomed in Kuneprius’ breast he’d almost forgotten existed: hope.

“You used your magic?” He leaned toward the Small God, ignoring the pain in his back. “Is it returning?”

He shook his head. “No. Thorn finds water without magic.” He waved his hand, gesturing about the forest, but it fell to his side before completing the gesture. “Water is everywhere, though sparse today.”

The enlivening hope drained away, leaving behind the frustration and dread Kuneprius had become used to over the past days.

“We have to get moving again.” He pushed himself to his feet, wincing with the effort. “The golem needs no rest.”

Thorn didn’t move from where he knelt on the soft moss. Kuneprius drew a deep breath, preparing his aching body for helping the gray man up. The sleep had helped him, as it had helped Kuneprius, but the paleness of his skin and the dark patches upon it remained.

“No, friend. Go. Thorn will stay. It is Thorn the clay man wants.”

Kuneprius’ head moved back and forth, heavy on his neck. “He’ll take you to your death if he finds you.”

“And you.” Thorn’s gaze dipped to the ground in front of him, his words grew quiet. “Clay man killed Horace Seaman. Thorn doesn’t want him to kill friend, too.”

Kuneprius stepped toward the Small God and crouched beside him, knees popping. He put his hand on Thorn’s shoulder.

“My fate is set. The instant I took you away, my life ended with our capture, as it means an end to yours.”

Thorn raised his chin and gazed at his companion. Some of the fog clouding his eyes had lifted, but they still didn’t shine the way they had when they first found each other.

“I knew what taking you meant. I cannot stand by and let them take your life, no matter what the reason they do it or what the consequence I must face.”

The corner of Thorn’s mouth curled; a smile, Kuneprius realized. He squeezed the Small God’s shoulder and pushed himself to his feet with a crack of joints, then offered Thorn his hand. He took it and allowed Kuneprius to help him up. They both looked forward, down toward the valley.

“At least it’s downhill,” Kuneprius said. “Better than that climb.”

He gestured back along the hill they’d scaled. From the top, it didn’t look as steep as it had as they climbed it. Kuneprius might have stopped to ponder how that could be if not for the trembling of a tree catching his attention. He squinted, hoping to glimpse a mule deer or some other animal as apprehension tingled down his limbs.

The brush shook again and a flash of gray showed between two branches, then disappeared. It didn’t have the look of fur.

“We have to go,” Kuneprius said, struggling to squash the panic threatening to rage through him.

He grabbed Thorn’s elbow and walked backward from the place where they’d dozed allowing the clay abomination the opportunity to catch up to them.

It doesn’t need to rest.

Kuneprius put his arm around the Small God’s waist and pointed them both down the hill toward the gully, the next hill, and whatever lay beyond.

***

They’d put several hills behind them by the time the trees thinned. Sweat ran from Kuneprius’ forehead and he wiped it away with his free hand, the other supporting the Small God’s limp form. He didn’t dare peek back for fear of what he might see.

To his surprise, he had more energy and strength than he’d have expected his accidental sleep to give. It remained an effort to carry Thorn—the benefits he’d reaped from their rest were short-lived—but his arms and legs did not threaten to remove themselves from his body as they had before, nor did his heart beat so hard it might escape his chest. He labored to breathe, his muscles ached, but he was confident he’d be able to continue for some while yet.

Exhausted or not, what choice did he have with a murderous statue chasing them?

As they neared the crest of the hill, the trees became sparse, then disappeared completely leaving broom and scrub brush impeding their path. It grew thickly, but not so dense as to slow the invigorated Kuneprius.

Does this energy mean we are nearing Thorn’s home?

The Small God dangled in his grip, toes brushing the dirt as his feet did their best to aid his companion, but they came up mostly unsuccessful. If they neared the Green, shouldn’t it cause Thorn’s power to grow, not his rescuer’s?

Step by step, Kuneprius pondered this question, using it to distract himself the way counting his steps might have if the numbers hadn’t disappeared from his head. With the top of the hill a few paces away, he realized the answer.

Thorn is using his magic to give me energy.

He’d tried to make Kuneprius save himself and leave him behind, but guilt and dismay prevented him from accepting the Small God’s sacrifice. Now he understood Thorn had found a different way to sacrifice himself for him.

But I am responsible. He wouldn’t be in this situation if not for me. Why should he care to save me?

He tilted his head to peer at the gray man dangling in his grasp but Thorn’s chin drooped to his chest, his energy gone. Kuneprius hefted him, pulling his feet up off the ground, and pushed on, determined to rescue the Small God from his foretold fate.

They reached the hilltop, bursting forth through a tangle of brush onto bare earth. The hill sloped down and away, the path ahead of them clear of trees, broom, and tangled roots. The ground at their feet was stony with patches of moss and grass, but after a short distance, it became grassland. In the dimness of twilight, it appeared near black, but Kuneprius suspected it might be lush green in the daylight.

Like the pasture close to where we found Thorn.

The thought blossomed further as his gaze followed the field to a darker spot on the land. It was large and oddly shaped, and lit here and there.

A village!

Kuneprius stopped in his tracks, staring down the hill at the spots of light his heart knew to be flickering torches, burning lamps, roaring cook fires. The verdant grass at the edge of the trees, the town… this must be near where they’d found Thorn.

We’re saved.

The thought filled him with hope and he gave Thorn an excited shake, but the Small God made no response. Kuneprius took two steps forward, beginning the descent, but stopped again.

I don’t remember a hill.

He pursed his lips, concentrating. Perhaps they approached from a different direction and he hadn’t noticed it the first time they were near this village. If he couldn’t remember how to count after all the turns of the seasons he’d done so, it seemed likely his memory had no room for a hill he’d seen once.

Kuneprius sucked a deep breath through his nose, searching for the briny scent of the sea to confirm where they were. His nostrils detected no salt in the air.

The wind blows the wrong direction, that’s all.

He took two more steps, glancing skyward. He’d been avoiding eye contact with those who looked down from above, but it was the only other way he knew to approximate their direction and location.

Sometime during the night, while the trees hid the Small Gods from him, a layer of cloud had crept across the sky. The moon was naught but a blur while the evenstar and the others were invisible. Kuneprius froze, his fears confirmed.

Ine’vesi and his priests are angered at what I’ve done.

He didn’t know what the Small Gods would do to him, if they possessed the power to do anything from their place in the sky, but he didn’t intend to find out.

They started out again, feet scuffing along the stony ground. Thorn seemed heavier now, as if the judgement of those who looked down from the sky added to his burden. He hiked him up with a grunt, the pain which had mostly disappeared from his back returning, bringing with it a knot in his shoulder blade.

“Come on, Thorn,” he muttered.

Grass sprouting between stones became more frequent until his steps whispered through blades rather than scraping across stone. A familiarity of the landscape struck Kuneprius, energizing him with hope they may have stumbled upon the village by the sea while also filling him with dread it might not be.

If it wasn’t, where were they? And how would he explain the comatose gray man he dragged along with him?

He slowed his pace, hesitant. Perhaps they’d be better off avoiding civilization. What they found behind the town’s walls may be worse than—

Behind them, brush crashed, moved and thrashed by an unseen, unstoppable force. Kuneprius craned his head but saw nothing in the darkness.

He didn’t need to see. The sound was enough to remind him the thing trailing them was worse than anything they might encounter in a village. Worse than anything, anywhere.

We can hide amongst the buildings.

Mind made up, Kuneprius forced his pace as fast as possible without throwing himself off balance to tumble to the ground. He thought they might find a cellar, a shed, somewhere the clay monstrosity wouldn’t search for them, but the carnage left behind at the inn flashed across his memory. He saw the serving wench’s twisted body, the barkeep’s severed head sitting upon the bar where he’d spent his life pouring ale for his patrons.

Kuneprius shivered. He didn’t want the deaths of these villagers on his hands, but if they sacrificed Thorn and the prophecy proved true, then how many more would die?

One of his knees buckled and he lost his balance, twisting as he went to the ground to keep from falling on top of his charge. As he rolled, he caught a glimpse back up the hill where a clay monster in the shape of a man emerged from a tangle of broom.

Kuneprius’ heart jumped up to clog his throat, making it difficult to draw breath, but he clawed his way to his feet. To stop now would surely mean his death.

“Come on,” he wheezed grabbing Thorn under his armpits. “Come on. Please…please.”

The Small God found a reserve of energy and pushed with his legs, helping Kuneprius. He hiked him up, back and hips protesting at having to bear the weight yet again, and pointed them toward the flickering lights ahead.

The golem possessed but one speed, he knew. If he outpaced the abomination to the village, it might give them enough time to find a hiding spot before the golem got there. Kuneprius clamped his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with the effort of drawing air into his chest, throat raw with fear.

They drew closer to their goal; the flickering lights brightened. To Kuneprius’ mind, the ground shook beneath him with each step the golem took, but he dismissed the thought. Despite the pain shooting through his back, the knots threatening in his calves and thighs, he knew himself to be faster than the monster, that he was leaving it farther behind.

As they came nearer the village, Kuneprius blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes and saw the picketed wall surrounding the town. Like the hill, he hadn’t noticed the fence before, but it seemed familiar nonetheless. Could he have forgotten so much? Hunger and exhaustion played many tricks on a man’s mind, he knew.

He pressed on, but doubt nagged at the back of his mind, finding its way through the fear of the golem chasing them down. He was a keeper, tasked with keeping the sculptor safe. His job never included fighting or fleeing, only ensuring meals were eaten, clothing repaired, and sleep allowed in appropriate quantities.

How did I end up here?

To his right, Kuneprius noticed a lighter spot in the wall: an open gate. It meant those who lived within didn’t fear attacks from beasts or man, but had they ever seen the likes of the golem?

He amended their path, directing them toward the opening. If he could get himself and Thorn behind the walls, they might survive, but the closer they got, the more the doubt whispering in his ear grew louder, more desperate.

They reached the gate and found no one guarding it. Kuneprius stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Overhead, the clouds parted, allowing the moon to shine through and cast its silvery light over the grassy expanse leading to the hill. Halfway across it, a dark figure followed footstep for footstep in Kuneprius’ path.

He dragged his arm across his face, the rough fabric of his shirt chafing his skin as he wiped sweat away, and hauled Thorn over the threshold of the fence and into the village. He inhaled a deep breath filled with the hickory scent of a cook fire, the odor increasing his discomfort with the familiarity of this place. It was as though he’d been here before, but he couldn’t think of when in the same way he had difficulty recalling what number came after four.

The moonlight illuminated simple buildings behind the picketing, none of them more than a single storey. They were built of wattle and daub, clay and wood, their roofs thatched, the doors hinged with thick rope. Surely one of them would offer a hiding place from the golem.

Kuneprius redirected them toward the nearest street, intending to find the most stout-looking of the structures, but his pace slowed, a cramp in his right leg and a knot in his shoulder blade hindering him. The pains made it a struggle to keep Thorn from slipping from his grip.

“Please, Thorn. Help me if you can,” he pleaded.

“Who is there?”

Kuneprius halted. The man who’d spoken stood directly ahead of them. He wore a cloak dark enough in color to blend him into his background, hiding him from Kuneprius’ gaze.