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

excited, he couldn’t wait to show Kuneprius the cave. That day, they’d stood outside and peered into the darkness, not daring to step within.
    The priest ducked his head and entered the cave, but Kuneprius halted after his three thousand, eight hundred and thirty-first step, stopping precisely in the same spot where he’d squinted into the cave with Vesisdenperos that day so long ago. Then, as now, he’d known the task meant for the boy, because wasn’t it he who’d condemned him to it? He’d liberated him from the Goddess’ caravan; he’d brought him before Kristeus; he’d taken care of him every day since.
    The early morning sun peeked over the top of the cave’s mouth, its rays warming Kuneprius through his robe and making it impossible for him to see beyond the entrance. A bead of sweat rolled down his chest; he did nothing to stop it.
    He knew what to expect inside the cave, but he didn’t want to enter. Was he supposed to? The priest had disappeared within and not beckoned him to follow. Kuneprius shuffled his feet, felt a pebble pressing against the arch of his foot, shifted away from it. He inhaled a breath filled with the scent of clay and nothing else, then released it through pursed lips, readying himself to discover his friend’s fate.
    Before he took the first step, the priest reappeared. He strode out of the cave and into sunlight, his shadow stretching in front of him. Kuneprius looked at the front edge of the dark shape—the shadow of the priest’s hood—falling across his feet, the black outline connecting the two men.
    Another shadow joined the first. It flowed across the gray ground like water, joining the priest’s at his feet, then continuing past. Without meaning to, Kuneprius let his mouth fall open and tasted clay on his tongue. He raised his head.
    The biggest man Kuneprius had ever seen stood beside the priest. If he was a man at all. He didn’t move, and it was difficult to tell where the ground ended and the man began, for they were both of the same color, molded of the same substance.
    This is what Ves sculpted.
    He dragged his gaze along the clay man’s imposing figure of bulging muscles and impossibly smooth skin. Its broad chest heaved with breath, its lids blinked like any man’s.
    Its eyes gazed upon Kuneprius.
    “Today, your duties to the sculptor resume.” The priest’s voice sounded as though it came from a great distance. “Tomorrow, you leave to acquire a Small God from the Green.”
    The words should have thrilled and excited Kuneprius with the promise of danger and adventure, but they barely registered in his mind. He could do no more than stare at the monstrous figure standing before him.
    A figure he knew without asking had once been his friend.
    “Vesisdenperos,” he said when he regained control of his lips. “It is you.”

V Danya - Spokes Market
    When days of peace approach their end,
    And wounds inflicted are too deep to mend,
    A sign shall come, a lock with no key,
    Borne by a man from across the sea.
    A barren Mother, the seed of life,
    Living statue, treacherous knife.
    To raise the Small Gods, a Small God must die,
    When stars go out, the end is nigh.
    One must die to raise them all,
    Should Small Gods rise, man will fall,
    One can stop them, on darken’d wing,
    The firstborn child of the rightful king.
    What a horrible dream.
    Danya rolled onto her back, eyes closed against the light shining on her. A sense of emptiness filled her belly, a residual feeling of her dream of a strange scroll, a mysterious prophecy, the death of her brother. This last made the nightmare most disturbing. What would her life be without Teryk?
    She stretched her arms over her head and felt hardness press against her back. It jarred her senses, and she became more aware of her surroundings—sounds, textures, smells.
    An overpowering stench.
    It wasn’t a dream.
    Danya’s eyelids snapped open.
    The trash heaped around her had settled during the night, covering her