And Night Descends (The Third Book of the Small Gods Series) (35 page)

“Well, well, Juddah,” the man leading him said, “it appears you’ve done more work for me and the brothers than we might have hoped.”

The nameless man ushered Ailyssa behind him and backed away as the robed men formed a semicircle around them, penning them in with their backs to the glowing green wall. Distress at needing to be protected once again flitted through her, but the fear of what these men might do to them quashed it at once.

“Not only have you brought us the man from across the sea, as the prophecy said,” he continued, “but it seems you have also led us to the barren mother.”

Rain cascaded down Ailyssa’s cheeks, dripped from her chin, found its way under her collar and down her back, but she noticed none of it. The term the man used in describing her—barren mother—cut into her as if he’d plunged a knife between her ribs. Her companion continued backing them away from the robed men and she wondered if he could do anything to keep them from harm.

Ailyssa sensed the barrier close behind them. She glanced over her shoulder and saw it fewer than two paces from her, rain droplets striking it and sending spiderwebs of fine, green lightning crawling across its surface. She set her feet and pushed back against her companion, letting him know they’d gone as far as space allowed. He stopped, planted his feet, braced himself.

A smile crept across the face of the man leading Juddah. It smacked of satisfaction, Ailyssa thought, like the grin of someone who’d worked a long time for something, finally achieving it. Lightning filled the sky again, the light flashing in his eyes as though fire burned within them. For the first time in her life, Ailyssa considered true evil might exist in the world.

“Take them,” the man commanded.

The semicircle drew closer around them, leaving their leader where he stood, the smile making a home upon his lips. Ailyssa’s gaze flitted from one to the next. She saw no weapons in their hands, but suspected it didn’t matter; they could still do them harm.

Thunder rolled, the rumble building and folding over on itself until it became a roar.

“No!”

The word was all but lost in the booming thunder, but it caught Ailyssa’s attention, for neither she nor her companion uttered it. Everything moved so fast afterward, she struggled to recognize what happened.

Juddah jumped forward, his sudden and unexpected movement catching his captor off-guard. The thick rope slipped from his grasp and the big man hurled himself with surprising energy into the nearest robed fellow. His bulk lifted the stranger into the air and sent him toppling to the ground before Juddah threw himself at the next.

Half of the robed men turned their attention to the escaped prisoner while the others closed the distance to Ailyssa and her companion. The nameless man jerked away, pushing her back. She gasped as the barrier pressed against her spine. The man without a robe shouted, Juddah growled, energy crackled through the air; another robed figure reached for her companion, a dim light emanating from the sleeve of his robe.

Green light engulfed her vision and a hiss like rushing water filled Ailyssa’s head. It lasted for only a moment, but in that moment, she watched one of the robed men grab Juddah by the head and twist his neck hard. He crumpled to the ground.

First, the sounds disappeared, followed by the world itself. Ailyssa fell, landing hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs. Her companion’s touch drifted away and the forest returned to nothing but featureless white haze as she lay on her back struggling to find her breath. When it returned, she gasped air into her chest, filling her lungs. Panic filled her chest along with it.

A wide leaf touched her cheek and she jerked away, startled, wiping at the spot with the back of her hand. Only then did she realize the rain had stopped. She froze, fighting to control her breath and ignore the pounding of her heart in her ears. Instead of the sound of a fight, she heard the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by a light wind, the chirrup of crickets singing in the night. The odors were different, too: wood and moss and loam, the scents of the forest.

I’ve passed through the barrier.

With the realization, she identified another fragrance amongst the aromas of the woods, this one not as pleasant: the musty odor of a wet thing not given the opportunity to properly dry.

Ailyssa held her breath as a branch snapped under the weight of a footstep. Her mind, unhindered by sight, brought a clear picture of the black beast with the small ears and sharp teeth to her, speeding the beat of her heart.

A deep rumbling disturbed the forest’s sounds, but this wasn’t the complaint of thunder. The noise rolled in the throat of a great, black animal rooting through the brush in search of her.

***

Juddah didn’t know where the energy came from to yank the rope out of his captor’s hands; blind rage, perhaps. A memory of Kooj’s twisted corpse flashed through his mind at the sight of the robed men approaching two more of his possessions, and he snapped, unable to accept that these prizes should suffer the same fate as his beloved dog.

He sprang forward, launching himself in to the nearest of the ‘brothers,’ knocking him from his feet. The element of surprise on his side for a fraction of a moment longer, he knocked over a second of the dangerous men before a third grabbed his arm. Juddah did his best to jerk away, intending to go back after Birk who’d been holding the rope; Birk who dogged him season after season; Birk who was to blame for Kooj’s death and everything bad that ever happened to Juddah—he understood that now. The man had stalked him, used him, and now was the time for him to pay.

He made it one step toward his goal before a robed man grabbed Juddah’s head in both hands, the grip tight enough his eyeballs bulged in their sockets, causing the swollen one to shoot agony through his head and along his neck. The pain ceased as the man twisted Juddah’s head, a popping sound filling his ears. His aggressor let go and Juddah intended to stop himself from falling to the ground, but found his body refused to respond to his wishes.

As he tumbled, gray crept in at the edges of his vision. Through it he saw the man he’d discovered lying on the shore push the woman from Jubha Kyna—Ailyssa, her name is Ailyssa—through the green glowing wall, hopefully to safety.

By the time Juddah hit the ground, life had left his body.

XXXIII Horace—Small Gods

By the time they reached the bottom o’ the ridge and grass were brushin’ the legs o’ his breeches, exhaustion and fatigue’d returned to Horace with the force o’ a fourth season squall. He considered askin’ the Small God for more o’ whatever she’d given him before, but doubted his voice’d work the way he meant it to. His legs became short stone pillars, barely capable o’ bendin’ and movin’. His lungs refused to fill themselves more’n half full and his muscles cried out for the air they was supposed to supply. Ivy were fairly draggin’ him along behind her when she let go her hold on his wrist.

Horace tumbled to the ground, twistin’ himself at the last second to land on his shoulder instead o’ his face. He lay on his side for a bit, wishin’ to spend some time enjoyin’ the rest. Since he couldn’t, he pushed himself to his elbows, arms what had nothin’ to do with walkin’ givin’ him as much discomfort as his legs.

The Small God were sprintin’ across the field, her skinny legs a blur. Animals raised their heads as she passed, but none o’ them seemed disturbed by her presence or her hurry. As soon as she’d gone by, each beast returned to whatever they’d been doin’.

A grunt made its way up from Horace’s chest and forced itself out between his lips as the ol’ sailor struggled to his feet. Them heavy legs didn’t wanna help out, and he tumbled back to the ground at first. He sighed and gave it another go, pushin’ himself up to hands and knees. He crawled toward the mud huts, draggin’ his feet in the grass, stainin’ the knees o’ his filthy britches. The length o’ three men’d passed beneath him when the big cat sauntered into his path.

He’d not seen an animal like this before, bein’ a seafarin’ man as he were, but he’d heard tell o’ such creatures. What the stories’d said didn’t give him no confidence it wouldn’t eat him.

Muscle rippled under the cat’s tawny coat. Its long tail flicked side to side like a thing with its own life. The beast stared at him, movin’ as though it thought to be sneakin’ up on him. Horace froze, more sweat burstin’ on his brow and a sudden and urgent need to piss makin’ itself known.

The big cat licked its lips.

Horace gulped hard and forced his uncooperative limbs into reversin’ course. His hands and knees scuffled through the grass; a rock dug into his palm, causin’ him to draw a sharp breath, but he forgot it as the beast took to stalkin’ his direction.

It means to make me its lunch.

Were this why Ivy brought him here? She must be blamin’ him for losin’ her brother, and bein’ consumed by the animal slinkin’ toward him were his punishment. How could it be he’d survived a watery god for the same life to get ended by a land animal’s teeth?

Scufflin’, cursin’, and quakin’ in fear o’ his life, Horace drug himself back the way Ivy’d brought him, but the big cat picked up its pace. Its quick feet and easy stride ate up the ground the way the cat’d eat him up when it got to him. The ol’ sailor’s arm and legs gave out under him, pitchin’ him to the ground; he strained his neck to keep his chin outta the dirt.

So this is it. This is the end.

He let out a sigh and pulled his arms up ‘round his head. He didn’t imagine doin’ so’d stop the big cat’s jaws from splittin’ his skull and snackin’ on his brain, but he figured he needed to do somethin’. His muscles clamped tight, tyin’ themselves into fearful knots for the very last time.

I’m sorry I didn’t take better care o’ you, Thorn. And sorry, Rilum, I weren’t a better dad to you.

The quiet pad o’ the cat’s paws drew close; for him to detect them steps, Horace estimated the beast must be damn close. The sailor gritted his teeth, preparin’ for the death blow, whether it came by tooth or claw.

Nothin’ happened.

“Fuck me dead.”

The words escaped his lips despite his not wantin’ to speak lest it’d anger the big cat. It didn’t. Instead, someone laughed; tittered’d be a better description. A quiet rumblin’ joined in with them snickers.

Horace relaxed his muscles and took his arms away from his face. He didn’t remember doin’ it, but he found he’d closed his eyes, too. He opened them slowly, prayin’ he’d see nothin’ but grass close by him and mud huts in the distance.

The cat sat on the grass a bit more’n an arm’s length away. Seein’ it so close made a drop o’ piss squeeze outta Horace against his will, but he kept his bladder from releasin’ any more, partially because Ivy stood beside the beast, fingers scratchin’ the fur between its pointed ears. The rumblin’ came from the animal, a response to the Small God’s touch. All around behind her and to both sides, other gray men and women gathered.

“This is the one Ivy told about,” she said. “The sailor from the prophecy.”

Horace shook his head, tryin’ to get them to understand he knew nothin’ o’ no prophecy and, even if he did, weren’t no way it mentioned him.

“The prophecy is not real,” one standin’ off to Ivy’s right said. “A story to keep our kind from escaping the veil.”

Many of the others nodded or mumbled their agreement. In fact, as Horace glanced about them gathered around, it appeared none but Ivy wasn’t agreein’.

“But my brother Thorn escaped. The sailor saw him on the other side of the veil, as the prophecy foretold.”

“Ha!” scoffed a gray feller what stood taller’n the others—not by much, but enough to be noticeable. Weren’t much way but height to tell them apart, with not even a heap o’ difference in that from one to the next. “Ivy believes…this?”

The taller feller gestured in Horace’s direction and the ol’ sailor felt a twinge o’ annoyance at his choice o’ words. He didn’t know Horace, nor nothin’ about him; he’d ne’er done anythin’ to deserve bein’ called a ‘this’.

“I saw him,” Horace piped up as he pushed himself up to his knees. “Fact, he fell outta the sky, right on toppa me.”

No titterin’ in response this time. A wave o’ laughter rippled from one Small God to the next and the next until they belly-laughed at him. All o’them except Ivy. A grave look’d settled on her face.

“You should not laugh. Why should this human lie to us?”

A diff’rent feller than what first spoke stepped forward. Horace knew it to be a feller due to the man-thing danglin’ betwixt his legs, but this Small God stood shorter than the first, and broader, too. Weren’t no belly on him, but he were wider at the shoulders and hips; even his face and head was diff’rent from the others. The laughin’ ceased as though this one’d given a silent command. Ev’ryone waited for him to speak, Horace included.

“This…man…should not be in our land.”

“But Thorn—”

The broad feller raised his hand and Ivy stopped speakin’. Her chin drooped toward her chest and she lowered her eyes from his gaze.

“Sky understands Ivy misses her brother, but this is not the first time Thorn has gone off alone.” He shook his head and, for an instant, Horace thought he spied a smile flit across his lips, but then it disappeared and he doubted what he’d seen. “Because Thorn went exploring does not mean the sky will crash down upon us.”

Horace directed his attention from the broad feller what called himself Sky to Ivy. The muscles in her jaw bunched up as if she wanted to say somethin’ but forced her mouth closed to keep from doin’ so. The ol’ sailor didn’t like the way it made her look; Thorn’d been so happy-go-lucky, it seemed wrong the weight o’ the world pressed down on his sister.

“The prophecy is a story, as Branch spoke, and our land is no place for those other than our own kind. Ivy knows that. Every man who ever set foot behind the veil became Faceless.”

Faceless.

The word brought a picture o’ the creatures to Horace’s mind, blood smeared across their smooth, white faces as they attempted to feed themselves. He swallowed hard.