The Gods' Games Volume 1 & 2: Graphic Edition (The Gods' Games Series)

by Quil Carter

  He was lying down, that he knew, but everything else was a mystery. The only sounds he could pick up were the birds singing and the occasional pop and crackle of a fire outside. Those were all welcome sounds, since they confirmed he was still alive, but even those reminders brought him pain.

  However there was another reminder; an enigma that came in and out of his shelter.

  A man – a strange man.

  This stranger who had injected himself into Ben’s life brought the most pain to Ben’s distorted and miserable mind. He was noisy, but Ben got the feeling he was trying to be as quiet as he could.

  He seemed to be a caretaker… he was trying to nurse Ben back to health, but why? What was wrong with him?

  In no corners of Ben’s mind did he have an answer for this. Everything was just distortion, haze, pain, and fatigue. He was in such a bad state there were no protests and no resistance to the help this mysterious person was offering. Sometimes Ben wished him to be quieter but he appreciated the attention when the man came.

  All throughout the day he would gently shake Ben awake, giving him water and spoonfuls of broth or applesauce and medicine from cold glass vials; even wash his face and neck with a cooled cloth. He would also help Ben outside the tent to relieve himself which would’ve embarrassed him if he was lucid enough to feel that emotion. Every once in a while Ben could hear him sing, and occasionally he would try to talk to him; but Ben’s brain was too delirious to make sense of the words he was saying.

  Mostly Ben just laid there, every bit of energy he had in him he used to swallow the liquids he was offered and breathe. Not a cry escaped his lips, or a moan. He wanted to ask the man for some painkillers, anything really, even Tylenol would be a relief. Something to get rid of the sweats, the fever, the uncomfortable dull aches that made it impossible for him to get comfortable. He suspected that the medicine was supposed to help with the pain, but for the most part it seemed to make him sleepy, which was a welcome relief from the discomfort and confusion.

  The days became lost to him, sometimes he could see the sun shine through his closed eyelids, other times it was dark, although there always seemed to be a faint glow somewhere.

  It was nighttime when he woke up from a particularly deep sleep, and Ben was relieved to see his mind was starting to grasp back onto reality. He shifted in the thin, fuzzy blanket he’d had wrapped around him since he could remember, and listened as his ears started to come alive again.

  Oh sing, oh sing – oh Alcove sing to me,

  My green forests shake with a jare cat’s scream,

  From the Frey to Valewind, to the seas of Mismi,

  Oh Alcove, my birth home, won’t you sing to me?

  With snowy mountains high, the ice twinkle like little cougar eyes,

  I’ll bend a shattered knee, bow a broken back for thee,

  My sword is ready – Anea guide me,

  Oh Alcove, my birth home, Alcove sing to me.

  Our elves stand tall, on the cold stones of the Pyre’s hall,

  The shadows will writhe, and all will shake before my House,

  Oh, the cubs become steel cougars; the green flag waves,

  A sword in hand, with a shield with our name,

  I’ll die for my home; my blood bleeds green,

  Oh Alcove, my Alcove,

  Oh Alcove sing to me.

  Ben opened his eyes; they were blurred and still extremely sore but were slowly starting to function. He could see the dark canvas flap halfway rolled up, exposing him to the cool night air. Even in his still half-delirious state he enjoyed that the tent was open and he could get some fresh air. The whole stuffy area smelled like stale sweat and oddly enough: chemicals.

  Ben could feel his eyes start to droop but he tried to fight the sleep that was threatening to take him. This was the most awake he had been in god knows how long and he desperately wanted some answers.

  He tried to say something but found his mouth was too dry to form any words. He tried again until a jolt of pain shot through his lips; they had split from being so chapped. The copper taste of blood rewarded him for his efforts; he didn’t have the strength to wipe it away.

  Instead Ben settled for watching the kid, hoping his brain would eventually start working again so he could figure out what was happening.

  The stranger’s face was hidden but the rest of his body was starting to come into focus. He was drinking from a small wooden cup and singing quietly to the fire. The man had a nice singing voice and hearing it immediately relaxed Ben. He was used to it now, when his mind was in its darkest place that voice had reminded him of reality.

  After a while the young man got up and started tidying up around camp, putting glass vials into a canvas sack and straightening out a green blanket he had been sitting on. Eventually when he had finished Ben watched him pick up a cylinder vial from the bag. He sprinkled it onto the fire and, in Ben’s muddled amazement and confusion, the light of the fire turned a dark blue colour, dimming the flames natural brightness. This must have been the glow Ben would see, even in the middle of the night when the boy was asleep beside him.

  Ben watched him as he leaned down and entered the tent, the fire nothing more than a shaded blue silhouette.

  The man, who Ben could now see was in his late teens, paused and turned his head towards Ben. He must’ve seen Ben’s eyes open.

  “Hey,” he whispered in a voice like he was talking to a child or scared animal. He smiled at Ben; he wasn’t that hard on the eyes. “Are you thirsty?”

  Before giving Ben time to form an answer, the mysterious man reached behind him and pulled out what looked like a corked leather pouch. “Open your mouth.”

  Ben obeyed and felt relief wash over him as the cold water coated his dry mouth, though it was short-lived, as soon as he tried to swallow he gagged and started to cough.

  “Sorry,” the boy apologized, “can you hold it do you think?”

  Ben licked his cracked and bloody lips and wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. “What did you do to me?” he croaked, his voice nothing but a broken rasp.

  Even in the darkness Ben could tell the man was surprised to hear him talk.

  He looked at him like a deer in headlights before saying with a slight stammer. “Y-you’re detoxing, from the drugs you were dependant on.”

  Of course, Ben thought to himself. I knew this feeling was oddly familiar, explains the chemical stink too. His body was literally detoxifying itself; the chemical smell were the toxins seeping from his pores.

  At least this meant it was easily remedied.

  “My pants? I got some in my pants,” Ben rasped.

  The boy shook his head; he put the waterskin up to Ben’s lips and squeezed it slowly as Ben drank.

  “Back to sleep,” the boy said quietly. After Ben drank he felt himself start to become lightheaded. He fell back into the blankets and felt the young man wipe the sweat off of his head with a wet cloth. Like before he was gentle, and the touch seemed to lull Ben back into a restless sleep.

  It was morning now, or at least Ben thought it might be. Whatever time of day it was, the sun was out and searing Ben’s sore eyes once again. With a small groan Ben could feel his fingers clench around the thin, fuzzy blanket that he had covering him. Out of all of the things that had been going on around him, the sweaty, smelly blanket had been a constant in his delirium. He felt an odd attachment to it now,

  As he shifted around his muscles protested, every movement was painful; his joints feeling like rusty hinges in need of oil. The only other time he had felt near this bad was when he had been bedridden after being mugged. He would’ve taken that for detoxing any day.

  Damn, I need to find my pills. Ben looked around with sore eyes and tried to spot his pants, but all he could see was the brown tent flap and his green blanket. Though to his left he saw a second blanket and a bedroll, the guy who had been taking care of him must already be up.

  Ben yawned and tried to rub the crusted sleep that seemed to be in t
he process of gluing his eyes shut. The last thing his aching body wanted to do was move, but he wanted to find some morphine and get out of here. He had to find Tav and Emett.

  Tav? Ben’s mind tried to draw up his face but he was blurred in the haze of his own distorted thought. This felt strange to him, his entire life before he woke up almost seemed like a muddled blur.

  It must just be from the fall and detoxing, he told himself, and because they hurt from the sunlight, Ben decided to close his eyes again. I’ll feel better soon enough.

  It was another hour of writhing in his bed before Ben decided to open his eyes again, hoping that they might be a little more used to the light now.

  As soon as he tried again he groaned. It was like the sun had a hit out on his poor eyes, but at least it wasn’t as bad as the previous days. Still, Ben pulled his green blanket up over his eyes to try and filter out the sunlight. This backfired though, he found himself almost gagging as his nose filled with the overpowering stench of his own chemically sweat.

  “Oh, you – you’re awake?” the small and timid voice of the man sounded outside.

  Ben jerked the blanket away from his face and looked around for him. A few moments later a familiar face appeared in the entrance to the thick canvas tent that had been sheltering Ben for days now.

  The boy from the rooftop… Ben had always known that, but now that his mind was more lucid and his thoughts returning to him the gravity of that reality seemed to finally sink in.

  Ben looked at the man bewildered, he opened his mouth to ask him where he was when a more important thought finally surfaced from the swamp that was his mind.

  Hadn’t they… jumped off of the building together?

  With the darkness no longer covering his face, Ben finally got a good look at the man. He had on a brown wool hat covering almost his entire head. He was blond but, weirdly enough, red bits of slightly curly hair stuck out through the edges.

  He was around Ben’s age and quite good-looking, with a thin willowy build, shaped eyebrows, and a clean shaven face. His eyes were large and green and he seemed to have a permanent look of worry on his face – actually he looked more terrified than anything.

  At this deduction Ben looked down at the boy’s hands and was surprised to see they were trembling as they grasped the side of the tent. This confused the hell out of Ben, the young man hadn’t seemed scared of him while he was taking care of him. So why now? Ben felt so frail a kitten could probably kick his ass.

  “You’re the rooftop guy,” Ben said weakly. “Are we dead?”

  Ben brought his hand up to his head and went to scratch his hair, before something made him pause.

  With a scowl, Ben glanced up at the kid confused. His hair was longer than it used to be – how long had he been asleep for?

  As Ben touched his head his scowl only deepened. His hair was well past his ears now and it seemed wavy just like the man in front of him. When he had jumped off of that building his black hair had only been about three inches long.

  “Maybe you should… put your hand down,” the boy said in a cautious tone. He took a step back from the canvas and looked behind him. “You – you seem like you might stay awake.” He was wearing strange clothing, clothing Ben had only seen in movies. A dark green tunic worn over top of brown travel-worn trousers, all clasped with a black belt that had a silver buckle.

  “I think so,” Ben said, looking at the boy with confusion. He reached for the leatherskin he remembered was filled with water and took a long drink, though his eyes never left the young man as he did.

  The young man shifted around uncomfortably, his thin face troubled and, strangely, his left eyebrow was twitching. He looked so nervous Ben was tempted to offer him a Valium or something.

  “Oh boy,” the man said under his breath; he pursed his lips before taking in a long breath.

  This made Ben feel uneasy.

  “Can I go home now?” Ben asked slowly. He put the leatherskin down and looked past the blond boy. He could see that he was in a forest, and deep into one if the thick white-barked trees were any indication, and there wasn’t a road in sight.

  As Ben thought back to it he realized he hadn’t heard anything that suggested he was near civilization. No cars, planes, or any other campers, it seemed this blond-haired man had taken him deep into the woods.

  Ben’s hopes of calling Tav to pick him up started to disappear. He wasn’t looking forward to walking out of this forest since he felt as weak as a newborn. Perhaps the kid had a car or something… though…

  Suddenly Ben’s eyes widened, a blatant fact that had been lost on him while he was detoxing finally dawned on him.

  He was in a fucking forest, with a stranger he didn’t know, who was now scared at the fact that he had woken up.

  Ben looked back up at the young man and narrowed his eyes. He raised his arms and jerked his legs to see if he was tied up or bound in some way, but no – he wasn’t being restrained at all.

  As soon as Ben made eye contact with the man, he seemed to cower down like a dog who knew he was in trouble. His submission gave Ben the distinct impression that he was waiting for Ben to attack him or something.

  And I had every reason to because…

  “Did you fucking kidnap me?” Ben asked, not hiding the anger in his voice. “I have people who will be looking for me.”

  Was that it? Ben looked around the outside of the canvas flap. Was I in the woods outside of Denver? Great, this is the part where I get raped, beaten, and cannibalized isn’t it?

  The boy gave him a single stricken look before he found his voice. “Come, sit by the fire…” Then, without another word, he disappeared out of the canvas flap, completely ignoring Ben’s question. “I made some food; I thought you might be waking up soon. I – I… you kept making noises like you might. I think y-you can eat solids now.”

  Ben pushed the green blanket off of him. He tried to get up but found his legs buckling; he fell down to his knees with a grunt.

  A few moments later the blond-haired man burst in.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry… you haven’t stood up in days, and you’re extremely weak. I’m stupid, I forgot. Sorry. Let me help,” he said hastily.

  Ben grudgingly let himself receive help, and the kid started to walk him outside.

  “You seem like a real shitty kidnapper,” Ben mumbled. He squinted his eyes again as they walked out of the canvas tent and into the forest around him.

  It looked like Ben had been correct with his previous assumption, the kid had taken him deep, deep into the forest. Ben had never seen trees so big and close together. Even when he used to go hiking in his youth, he had never seen the Colorado woods quite like this.

  The forest surrounding him looked like it had never been logged or cleared. The branches and the emerald green leaves seemed to weave themselves together in a twisted nest, blocking out a large portion of the blue sky above them.

  The curved trees, ones that resembled oak but with silvery bark, were so thick it would’ve taken two dozen of him to reach around the trunk. Their long branches had light green moss hanging off of it, in some areas so thick it was like the web of a large spider.

  Below these jarringly huge trees were giant, slab-like rocks also covered in a thin sheet of wood moss. They lay on the densely-covered forest floor in between bushes, green plants, and sparse patches of emerald green grass.

  This… didn’t look like Colorado…

  The boy gently led Ben towards the fire he had been hearing during the times he was conscious. It was nestled in the middle of a circle of scorched rocks and was the centerpiece to a makeshift camp the boy had been staying in.

  Ben looked around this camp and saw small things stashed on and around the logs that circled the fire. Ben recognized a few of them from when the young man had been taking care of him: vials, a leatherskin of water, a canvas knapsack, the wooden cup the boy had been drinking from, and oddly enough… a sword.

  “I think I’ve p
layed your game long enough; I’d like to go home now,” Ben said calmly as he eyed the rather dangerous-looking weapon. Any person who went around carrying a sword like that couldn’t be in their right mind.

  With the silver-haired man and the notebook temporarily lost in his muddled subconscious, Ben instead came up with an entirely different explanation.

  It was hard to find guys interested in other guys where Ben was from. He had been lucky to be friends with the few of them he knew. Ben was starting to realize that perhaps this was a really lonely kid who wanted something from Ben besides someone to chat with.

  Ben swallowed hard. For the first time since he had woken up he felt like he was in immediate danger. Especially with that sword nearby… what the hell was this kid doing with a damn sword?

  “I – I… um…” The boy started stammering again in a pathetic attempt to answer Ben’s question. He seemed scared of Ben, or perhaps scared of what he had done.

  This calmed down the area of Ben’s mind that was telling him he was about to be raped and murdered. The kid didn’t look like the type, but he did look like the type to kidnap a gay guy and try to force him to be his boyfriend.

  So Ben decided to handle this in the safest way possible. He found himself sitting down by the fire and holding his hands out to warm them.

  “Are you gay?” Ben asked, eyeing the boy’s face for the reaction to his very direct question.

  Sure enough, the kid’s eyes widened. His face paled and immediately he looked away from Ben and started scratching his oddly pointed fingernails against his arm. “Y-yeah…” he said, stumbling over his words. “I – I know you are too.”

  Ah… so that was it then.

  “Look… how far are we from the road? If you let me go – I won’t call the cops,” Ben began to say slowly. “But if you try anything stupid, I’ll kill you. I have friends who’ll be looking for me. Since it’s been a couple days, they most likely already are.”