Free The Darkness Comes (The Second Book of the Small Gods Series) by Bruce Blake Page A

shoulder—four men with bare steel in their hands had joined the fellow with the tangled beard.
    “I suggest you put down your sword or it’ll be your corpse I’ll be selling.”
    Danya inhaled a slow breath through her nose, ignoring the scent of horse manure and sour herbs, using the air in her chest to calm her, prepare her. If she laid her sword aside, these men might not kill her but, if they didn’t, whatever they did might be worse. She wasn’t going to let that happen. And if she were to die, she’d do it with a sword in her hand.
    She spun around, sword raised, knowing the armed men behind her presented a greater menace than the corpse merchant. The man with the tangled beard fell into a defensive stance—a trained fighter. The others around him bared their teeth and tensed their limbs. Danya scanned them, assessing the threat each posed, and read in most of their eyes they’d rather not risk their lives. She needed to worry about the bearded man—his presence gave the others courage. If she disposed of him, the rest would likely flee.
    She glared at him and moved to the ready position Trenan had trained her again and again. In this pose, she waited for him to accept the challenge.
    A heartbeat passed, then another and another. The man didn’t move until his eyes widened; his mouth opened as though he might speak, then he took a step away, hands raised in surrender. The other men did the same.
    A thrill of excitement pulsed through Danya. She’d never expected her first real sword fight to go so well.
    “Leave the girl alone,” a woman’s voice said from behind Danya. She cursed herself for making the same mistake twice. “She is with me.”
    The man backed farther away, and the princess took the opportunity to see who’d seemingly come to her rescue.
    A figure wearing a dull green robe stood off to the side of the corpse merchant’s wagon, her stance not in any way threatening. When Danya’s gaze found the robed figure’s face, her own eyes widened, mimicking those of the men.
    The woman’s cheeks and forehead were of white wood, a black mustache painted above red-painted lips. Dark eyes gleamed through round holes.
    She’s wearing a mask.
    The green robe fell away from delicate fingers and a small hand as the figure raised her arm.
    “Come.”
    Danya lowered her sword but didn’t replace it in its scabbard. Her instincts told her not to go with the woman—girl, judging by her hands and the sound of her voice—but the alternative was far less appealing. She strode toward the figure.
    “Go back to your business,” the girl said with a wave of her dainty hand, then she led Danya away.
    The princess didn’t look back, but she sensed the gazes of the men upon them, watching, ensuring they left the market. She could imagine the amazement in their expressions, because she felt it herself.
    “Who are you? Where are you taking me?”
    They hurried along the avenue, choosing the arm Danya thought would take them toward the setting of the sun. The stranger didn’t answer so, when they were out of sight of the market, Danya stopped.
    “Who are you?” she demanded.
    Unafraid of the sword Danya held, the girl reached out and wrapped her fingers around her hand.
    “Come,” she said. “We have been waiting for you.”

VI Ailyssa - Rescue
    Once, the woman who’d been known as N’th Ailyssa Ra relished the caress of wind on her cheeks and the warmth of the sun touching her skin. The woman known only as Ailyssa despised how the breeze cooled the fearful sweat on her brow, the manner in which the sun dried tears on her cheeks, tightening her skin.
    Another careful step, one hand leading the way, groping, her blind eyes unable to see more than the glow of the sun. The aroma of baking bread that encouraged her when first she woke had been replaced by the scent of trees and dirt. The burble of the creek she sought to follow also eluded her, gone from her hearing, usurped by the drone of insects, the