And Night Descends (The Third Book of the Small Gods Series) (9 page)

He headed back along the alley, away from the mysterious building. When he reached the adjoining boulevard, he continued straight instead of turning this time, unsure if doing so would carry him home but knowing he didn’t want to go back.

In deference to the pain in his leg, Stirk moved more slowly this time, paying attention for noises in the shadows. His feet scraped in dirt and broken stone, his breath wheezed in and out of his lungs, his heart beat hard against his ribs. Darkness wrapped itself around him, giving him the impression the walls on either side of the street bore down on him, closing in.

Stirk craned his head around to peer back along the boulevard. No one behind him but, to his surprise, the buildings had actually closed in. On both sides, blank stone walls set close enough to allow two men to walk abreast if they didn’t mind brushing shoulders replaced ones he was sure had had doors and windows when he passed them.

Loose gravel grated beneath Stirk’s boots as he skittered to a stop, a wave of cold crawling over his flesh. Slowly, he faced forward again.

The same courtyard. The same low building.

“No.” Stirk shook his head hard. Saliva spilled out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. “This ain’t possible.”

He backed away three steps, the pain in his groin flaring as he turned to leave. One step passed beneath him before he halted again.

A blank wall stood not two paces away where the alley had been, blocking his retreat. Stirk blew short, hard breaths out through his nose.

“No. Can’t be.”

Someone must be playing a trick on him. Despite his fear, he forced himself forward a step and reached out, forgetting the loss of his hand. The stump brushed against stone, its hardness taking away any doubt of its authenticity. Stirk raised his other hand, pushed against the solid, ungiving wall. When it didn’t move, he stutter-stepped back two paces.

“How—?”

The chill he’d experienced before returned, but this time it didn’t feel like the chill of fear radiating from within. This time, it seemed as though a winter wind blew upon him, coming up from behind.

Stirk stopped and clenched his fist, certain that should he turn around, he’d find someone—something—at his back. He let his lids slide closed; if he didn’t look, perhaps it wouldn’t exist.

“Stirk.”

The voice drew out his name, pulling the single syllable on for the space of half a dozen beats of Stirk’s racing heart. His lids snapped open and the wall that had stood before him was gone. Somehow, while his eyes were closed, he’d rotated to face the courtyard, the low building, and the headless woman standing before him.

Stirk’s lips quivered. His mouth went dry.

“M…mother?”

The figure might have been a statue for all it moved. The dark outline was undoubtedly a female with a space above her shoulders where her head should have been. Stirk’s gaze trailed down the front of her, taking in the familiar shape, the dark stain on her shirt that must have been blood. His appraisal halted when he saw the apparition’s head dangling from its grip, fingers laced through graying hair.

The dead eyes stared at him, the minuscule light in the courtyard shining in them. Stirk’s lips moved, but no words came out. His knees melted to water and he stumbled, pain from his groin shooting along his leg. If not for the wall at his back to support him, he’d have found himself sprawled out on the ground.

“M…m…m…”

Stirk’s eyes refused to move from the severed head, from its stare. His dead mother took a step toward him, then another, closing the distance between them. The head swung back and forth, but its gaze didn’t leave his. Another step, another. Stirk slid down the wall until his ass touched the ground.

Dead eyes blinked. Bloodless lips parted.

“Stirk.”

The big man threw both arms in front of his face and screamed.

IX Ailyssa—On The Road

The horse’s gait lifted Ailyssa’s backside up and set it down over and over, each jarring thump inflaming the bruises she’d incurred during her days as a Sister of Jubha Kyna. Each flare of pain reminded her of the men she’d endured and made her appreciate the one sitting on the horse in front of her.

It turned out Juddah was a large man; Ailyssa found herself unable to encircle his waist with both of her arms as she sat behind him. Instead, she hooked her fingers into his overalls, grabbing on so she didn’t lose her seat on their steed as they traveled to Juddah’s home somewhere near the shore.

Her rescuer stank of grease and sweat, an unpleasant mix wafted over her by the breeze of the horse’s movement. She tried inhaling through her mouth instead, but doing so merely set the cloying tang upon her tongue rather than the redolence clinging inside her nose. His stink caused her to breathe short, gulping breaths, and direct her face away in search of fresh night air. With her head cocked to the side, she also used the opportunity to listen for sounds of pursuit from behind them.

She heard nothing but the clip clop of their own horse’s hooves.

They’d been riding for a good while, Juddah managing the horse’s pace to keep the beast from tiring. The blurred white of Ailyssa’s vision remained dim, meaning night still ruled the sky, but she judged sunrise must not be far off. How long before they reached her rescuer’s house?

Juddah had spoken little since she released her grip on the window sill and fell into his arms. He’d caught her as promised and kept her safe from harm but, other than the occasional instruction to hold on or to give warning of low-hanging branches or a tight bend in the road, he’d not let her in on his plan. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than her last few days.

Could it?

She leaned away, putting space between herself and Juddah’s wide back, his peculiar aroma. The night breeze touched her cheek and she closed her unseeing eyes, allowing it to envelop her, calm her. She inhaled through her nose and scented trees beneath Juddah’s greasy sweat, but nothing else. Ailyssa had never been to the sea, where he claimed to live, and didn’t know what to expect its smell to resemble or how the ocean might feel on her naked flesh. Warm like a bath? Cold as a river? She wondered how it might look but the thought put an ache in her heart.

I’ll never see the ocean. I’ll never see anything again.

The horse’s gait slowed, its choppy steps bouncing Ailyssa harder against its back and flanks. She gritted her teeth against the pain and gripped tighter to Juddah’s overalls, waiting for the horse’s pace to smooth out again. The steed halted. Still holding on, Ailyssa leaned away, stretched her neck as if she might see over his shoulder.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Shh,” Juddah hissed. “There’s a wagon in the road.”

Bandits!

Ailyssa’s stomach jumped. Every time she thought she’d been rescued from a horrible fate, another one blocked her path. From rapists to brigands. Did the Goddess despise her this much?

Juddah shifted in the saddle, body stiffening with tension. She didn’t know if he carried any weapons—she’d detected none at his belt, but his voluminous overalls were baggy enough to hide things beneath. He stood in the stirrups and leaned forward.

“Hmph,” he grunted as he sat again. “Stay here.”

The big man slid out of his seat, almost pulling Ailyssa along with him. She released her grip and shifted her hands to grab the bottom edge of the hard leather saddle. His boots crunched on the dirt road and a bell jingled mutely, then he whispered to the horse too quietly for her to discern his words. The animal snorted and the scuff of footsteps carrying him away reached her ears.

Footsteps carrying him away and leaving her alone. Again.

***

“I’ll be right back,” Juddah whispered in the horse’s ear, intending the words for the woman, Ailyssa. But the courage to speak directly to her eluded him; despite his intentions, he had difficulty considering her just another addition to his collection.

He put the thoughts from his mind and strode a few paces along the road toward the wagon sitting in a tree’s shadow cast by the half-moon. The horse hitched to it caught wind of him and whinnied, but the driver’s seat behind it appeared empty. Juddah slowed, moving with care while cursing himself for not bringing a blade from his collection in the barn. Fifteen paces from the wagon, he halted.

“Who’s there?” he called. Wind rustled an answer through the trees.

Juddah took another tentative step, stuck his hand in the front of his overalls. His fingers found nothing but the handle of the small, silver bell he’d collected from the bedside table in Ailyssa’s room at Jubha Kyna, but he hoped it gave him a threatening enough appearance to throw a scare into whoever might lay in wait in the deep shadows. A second pace forward and he stopped again, squinted. Was that the shape of a man standing behind the wagon?

“What do you want?” Juddah called, raising his voice.

This time, his question prompted a response. The figure hidden in shadow strode to the front, into the moonlight, and stroked the horse’s snout. Juddah’s thick brows dipped toward the bridge of his nose, meeting in the middle.

“Birk? Is that you, Birk?”

“Hello, Juddah.”

He took a step away from the horse, the toe of his boot contacting a rock lying in the road and sending it skittering across the dirt to settle a few paces in front of Juddah. The stocky man watched it come to a stop, then raised his gaze to Birk again, piquant anger flooding his tongue.

“What are you doing here? I told you to stay the fuck away from me.”

“No, you told me to keep off your land.” He spread his arms and Juddah saw a flash of a white bandage wrapped around one. “This isn’t your land, is it?”

Juddah growled in the back of his throat and wished he had a bow or a sling to put an end to this fellow who made it a habit of hanging around his collection. So far as he knew, Birk’d taken nothing—not even the cow Juddah himself liberated from inside the man’s own fence—but he sure showed up frequently. Juddah didn’t much like that.

A shame Kooj didn’t eat him.

“It ain’t my land, but here you are anyway, ain’t you?”

“Here I am.” He took another step.

“Come no closer.” Juddah jammed his hand deeper into his overalls, intending a threatening gesture, but the bell hidden within jingled. He cursed himself for his clumsiness.

“Who’s your friend?” Birk asked, nodding past him toward Ailyssa.

“Ain’t none of your business.”

“You’re right and, truthfully, I don’t care what harlot you’ve picked up to add to your
collection
.”

“She ain’t a harlot.”

“Yes, of course. She likes you.” Birk rubbed the bandage on his arm as though the bite it hid pained him. Juddah smiled to himself. “It’s the man I saw digging in your yard I want to talk about.”

“Ain’t none of your business, either.”

“Where did you find him?”

“Birk—”

“Where is he from?”

Juddah’s hands balled into fists at his sides and he took a half-step toward the other man. Birk didn’t flinch.

“Stay the fuck away from my collection,” Juddah grated between clenched teeth.
Or you’ll end up part of it.

“Was he near the shore?” Birk asked, ignoring the stocky man. “Did he come out of the water?”

Juddah set his shoulders, leaned forward, and walked toward the other man again, his pace slow and threatening. Finally, whatever’d given Birk courage let go; he threw up his hands, palms facing outward, and skittered back.

“No need to get angry.”

“Leave me and my collection alone.”

The space between them lessened and Birk scrambled into the driver’s seat, retrieved the reins from the floorboards. The horse nickered and shook its head. Juddah halted short of the wagon, realizing Birk might have a weapon and not wanting to chance getting knifed and losing his latest—and what he figured to be his most prized—addition. Birk yanked the reins and the horse pranced.

“You should be careful what you collect. You never know who else might come searching for it.”

He snapped the reins, prompting the horse along the dirt track, the wagon’s wheels rumbling in the well-worn ruts. Juddah watched him go for the space of four breaths, wondering what he meant. He released his fists, a frown remaining on his face as he headed back to his horse.

“Juddah?” Ailyssa said as he grabbed the horse’s bridle, intending to walk for a while and let Birk put distance between them. He detected a tremor in her voice.

“Hmm?” he grunted.

“What did he mean, ‘your collection’?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

He always expected the Birk fellow’d prove to be trouble.

***

Ailyssa’s chin jerked up off her chest and she grabbed the sides of Juddah’s overalls to keep from sliding out of her seat. The sensation of falling and confusion about her whereabouts startled her, setting her heart beating hard against her ribs. It passed after a moment as she recalled where she was and everything that had happened.

It gave her no relief.

She rested her cheek against her rescuer despite the unpleasant odor emanating from his body; she craved the stability his presence provided even if her nose could only stand it for a brief time.

When Ailyssa leaned back again, her pulse slowing to normal but the knot of fear in her gut still present, she detected a change in the air temperature, a warming on her cheek.

The sun is rising.

Every day of her life she’d awakened with the sunrise, energized by its warm rays, joy flowing through her at seeing its light transforming dew drops into glimmering diamonds. But today, its light was missing from her eyes and its warmth merely marked the coming of another day in a life filled with fear and apprehension, nothing more.

“Can we stop to rest, Juddah?”

The man didn’t answer and Ailyssa thought the clomp of the horse’s hooves may have masked her question.

“Juddah?”

“Keep going.”

The words floated over his shoulder, more grunt than communication. She fell into silence again, the lead ball of dread in her belly expanding, tightening her chest. Did she make the right decision by leaving Jubha Kyna? Leaving her daughter? She grasped Juddah’s overalls tighter, seeking solace from a man with unclear intentions.