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

by Quil Carter

  Without even hearing their plans, Tseer nodded. “I agree. When will you do this?”

  “Upon completion of the second task,” Stolas replied. “And you know very well what the first one is – I want the area where you ambushed the hibrid.”

  But Tseer shook his head. He walked over to a desk, made of the same red-fleshed wood that Krafter’s favourite chair was, and picked up a knife with a hilt made out of black bone. He brought the blade to his palm and dragged it down; a thin red line trailing behind that quickly filled with blood. The malkah turned around and handed the knife to the two priests; the rainbow patterns from the stained glass window glinting and shining off of the blade.

  “Before I tell you a thing, I want it binding,” Tseer said, his eyes focused on Stolas. “You’re a Dashavian like me, you know our ways. Priest Krafter can join as well, but I’m more interested in doing it with one who worships Darsheive. I want it sworn on him.”

  “I would expect nothing less from you.” Stolas took the black-handled knife from Tseer, and held it to his palm like the bounty hunter had just done. He slid it down his olive-coloured skin before handing it to Stolas who did the same.

  “Our agreement is binding and if this agreement is broken let Darsheive’s wrath be swift and deadly, and the elf who betrayed the contract sworn on his name, be killed for blasphemy,” Tseer said as he held out his palm now pooling with blood that shone in the light of the stained glass window.

  Both Krafter and Stolas nodded, though it was Stolas who spoke. “Our agreement is binding and if this agreement is broken let Darsheive’s wrath be swift and deadly, and the elf who betrayed the contract sworn on his name, be killed for blasphemy.” Stolas joined his bleeding palm with Tseer’s and clenched it tight, then they released and Tseer joined his smudged hand with Krafter.

  Then when their blood had mixed in with one another’s, all three of them brought their hands to their mouths and licked the blood off of their skin.

  The Dashavian’s Blood Oath. A contract and a binding agreement that was practiced amongst the Dashavians for as far back as the records had been kept. To break it was to turn your back on Darsheive himself – not only would you be hunted down by the ones you broke the blood oath with, all of Dashavia would be after you.

  “Now that this is over and done with,” Stolas said as the last streak of red stained his pointed tongue. “Where is he? You said he was with another hibrid and an Alcovian elf?”

  Tseer looked down at his cut palm; refusing himself any relief over making the binding agreement with the high priests. Many times he had come close to getting his son back, only to have the covis, just within his reach, get pulled away. But this time seemed different, a Dashavian high priest was much more loyal to Darsheive than the common Dashavian. He wouldn’t break an agreement that was sworn with their own god’s name.

  “The Forest of Jare,” Tseer replied. “They are heading north towards Lelan Hold. The Alcovian elf wasn’t travelling with them at the time but I would wager he is now.”

  Krafter and Stolas exchanged smirks. “Lelan, eh?” Krafter said to his fellow priest. “I never did like Lelander.” Then the two of them turned back to Tseer, before their expressions changed, at the same time, to mischievous grins. “You may go, Tseer. Tell Zoltan to get you some nice quarters until we call on you again – I suggest you stay out of King Erick’s sight since we’ll be avoiding telling him of your freedom.”

  Tseer nodded and, without a word, he turned and headed towards the door.

  When it shut Krafter let out a loud sigh. “I thought he’d never leave.” The Crithian priest brushed back his dark, blond-tipped hair before turning to Stolas.

  But Stolas was already making his way towards him, and as soon as Krafter was in range, Stolas wrapped an arm around the back of his head and drew him in for a kiss.

  Krafter’s lips parted and he took Stolas in deeper, accepting his tongue and playing with it with his own. Soon he felt Stolas’s hand slip inside of his robe before travelling south towards his trousers.

  A groan broke Krafter’s lips as Stolas rubbed the palm of his hand against Krafter’s penis, grinding against the stiffening member before he grabbed it and retracted the foreskin.

  “How much do you want me now?” Stolas hissed into Krafter’s ear, before their lips joined again. This time when Stolas pulled away he dragged his pointed teeth along the Crithian priest’s lips, a move that drew out another groan.

  “Badly…” Krafter whispered, his breathing starting to shorten. “I want it in me.” Stolas drew the foreskin back over the head and pinched it together. Krafter winced as he dug one of his clawed fingernails into the sensitive flesh. “Stop playing with me and do it.”

  Then there was a knock on the door.

  Stolas swore and withdrew his hand, releasing his grasp on Krafter’s throbbing member; at the same time Krafter’s eyes opened and looked towards the door.

  “Who is it?” Krafter said, not hiding the annoyance in his voice.

  “Squire Sweeny, Priest Krafter,” a small mousy voice said, muffled by the wooden door. “The king is coming and requests audience.”

  Krafter and Stolas’s faces both changed from annoyed to livid at the same moment.

  “You may enter,” Krafter said through clenched teeth. He turned around with an irritated sigh and walked to a full-length mirror that was standing near their purple-canopied four poster bed. With rough movements, not hiding the distain he was feeling, he straightened his robes.

  Stolas glanced past Krafter before snapping his fingers. In front of Krafter and the mirror the four poster bed suddenly changed into two single beds.

  Sweeny entered, the seventeen-year-old hibrid squire, with brown hair with red streaks and a thin but soft face, looked around the priests’ quarters; his green eyes just as wide and scared as the servant who had been there previous.

  Not soon after, King Erick entered, dressed in a black doublet with silver patterns, and a wine-red blouse; and if Krafter and Stolas’s faces both held annoyance, Erick’s face looked downright livid. The king stepped in, a black cape flowing behind him, and looked at the two priests.

  “Nyte failed didn’t he?” King Erick snapped; his black ivory crown crooked and a tuff of his black hair stuck in one of the crown’s points. “He should’ve been back by now. How could he fail? Tseer said the one who had the jewel was just a male hibrid.”

  Krafter spread his hands. “Your guess is as good as mine, Your Highness,” he said in a level tone. The smirking grins and playful demeanour the two had been showing just minutes previous now gone. “Nyte will return even if he has run into trouble. You cannot kill a kessiik.”

  “I need to know where they’re heading,” Erick said acidically. He took a silver goblet from Sweeny who had made a beeline for Krafter and Stolas’s wine pitcher as soon as the door had closed behind him. “If the Alcovians get word that the jewel has resurfaced and is in the possession of a hibrid… I’ll have a rebellion on my hands. I just finished beating the last of their resistance out of them.”

  Stolas waited to see if the king was going to rant some more. It wasn’t until Erick was drinking deeply from his wine cup that he dared speak. “I doubt the hibrid carrying the jewel will make it known that he is its keeper. Alcove can be a harsh place and the gods have been absent for some time. The Alcovians would be more inclined to rob and murder the young hibrid before they would raise him on high for carrying the godly artifact.”

  Erick seemed happy with this, though the only outward sign was that he didn’t start ranting again. Instead the king nodded and drummed his fingers against the goblet; the room filling with the soft tinkling of his rings hitting the cup.

  “Damn whoever gave it to him,” Erick said. “Whether it was the demigod or a god himself – damn him.”

  “The jewel is nothing,” Krafter said with a reassuring smile. “Even if the hibrid does bring it to Calin. What then? It is still no match for our magic. King Calin is no
mage; he only holds a piece of the jewel in his ring and that is all.”

  Erick walked towards the stained glass window and looked up at it. The statues of Xalis and Darsheive, both dressed in black tunics with golden belts, stared straight ahead. The two gods were standing side by side with their arms crossed defiantly, a flare of blue and red fire behind them. It was a beautiful portrait, the priests had commissioned it as soon as the Pyre had been taken over. An homage to their respected gods.

  “Was it not created by Anea?” Erick said, his tone dropping as he stared at the beautiful portrait, he seemed transfixed by it. “Was it not sent down by a higher power? A deity? Why would they send down something incapable of stopping me?”

  In steps that were perfectly in sync, Krafter and Stolas walked up to Erick until they were directly behind him.

  “Because even the gods underestimate your power, my lord,” Stolas said in the same hushed tone. “You are the chosen human. You were chosen to rule Elron. Brought here by your own remarkable power. You are so powerful, Erick Zahn, that we sensed it from a world away.”

  Stolas’s words hung in the air as the room around them fell into silence. Erick continued to stare up at the statue before finally – he smiled.

  “You’re right, Stolas, and you were right to bring me here,” he said, and turned to face the two. “No matter what happens, the jewel will be just another page in my history book. Nothing can stop me – not even an artifact created by a god.”

  Stolas and Krafter both smiled with the king, and bowed at the same time.

  “I will take my leave,” Erick said, his steps now lighter and his moves more graceful under his newly boosted confidence. “I will worry not of Nyte’s delay. Let the hibrid try to bring that jewel to King Calin. Once I find him I shall kill him, and if he succeeds? Well –” Erick opened the door to the tower room’s entrance with Sweeny behind him. “– I’ve been wanting to find out just where that foolish king is anyway. No matter what – I win.” Erick’s cheerful smile suddenly turned menacing. “I always fucking win.”

  “That’s right, my lord,” Stolas said. He put his hand behind King Erick’s back and led him towards the door, Sweeny already had it open for the king. “Summon us if you need us for anything. We will be doing our rounds to make sure the enchantments on the castle are still strong.”

  King Erick nodded and walked through the door, Sweeny behind him. “I will, have a good evening.”

  Stolas shut the heavy wooden door with an obvious shudder.

  “Chosen human? The gods underestimate his power?” Krafter gave an incredulous snort, which quickly turned into laughter.

  Stolas rolled his eyes, his hands gave a flick before a blue shimmer covered the wooden door. He turned from it and gave Krafter a glaring look. “I said what I had to say.”

  “Oh, I understand that,” Krafter said amused. “I just don’t know how you managed it without pushing him through that damn window.”

  “We’ve both had to learn self-control over the years,” Stolas muttered.

  “We sensed your power from a world away!” Krafter said mimicking Stolas’s voice, though he made it several octaves higher and even gave an embellished twirl of his hands. “We saw all the cocks you’d take in one day to support your alter habit and just had to have you as our king!”

  Stolas rolled his eyes again but he couldn’t hide his amused smile. He walked to the purple chair, facing the crackling fire and picked up the wine pitcher. “Whatever I need to say to keep him from going after that jewel.” He took a long drink and closed his eyes when he pulled the pitcher away. “The jewel is here.” He sighed and licked his lips. “Things are going to get interesting. Finally.”

  “We downplayed its arrival as much as we could,” Krafter said. He walked over to Stolas and took the pitcher out of his hand; he brought it to his lips and drank deeply from it. “The last thing we need is that idiot pissing all over our plan,” Krafter said after he’d drunk his fill. “At least we have Tseer in our pocket and he’s the only one who knows where those hibrids are.”

  “Were,” Stolas corrected. When Krafter put the wine back down onto the wooden table Stolas leaned over and gently kissed his neck. “So what did you want to do? We can’t do anything until the demigod comes back with our present.”

  Krafter craned his neck with a smile as Stolas’s pointed tongue ran down his neck leaving a glistening trail behind it. “Like we said… we’ll just play with them. The demigod won’t be too upset if we just… make it challenging for them.”

  “Challenging?” Stolas purred. His hands started unbuttoning the silver buttons on Krafter’s dark blue mage robe. “Do tell me more.” He opened the robe and the white undershirt underneath.

  “The demigod only told us to not kill them.” Krafter closed his eyes before sucking in a breath as Stolas’s tongue licked his nipple before he took the bud into his mouth. “So we can… just fuck with them a little.”

  With a pop from the suction, Stolas’s mouth released the pec, now hardened and surrounded by a patch of red. “Fuck with them? I do love it when you talk dirty.” His tongue travelled up Krafter’s collarbone, to his neck, along his prickly black facial hair, then finally to his lips. Stolas kissed them. “Why don’t we discuss it after I filled you?” His hand suddenly plunged down Krafter’s trousers and he grabbed his already hard penis.

  Krafter bit the corner of his lip and smirked. “I do love how you think.”

  The Forest of Jare

  They rode hard for the next twelve days. At first Ben only noticed subtle changes in the forest around them: more rays of sun beaming down onto the black dirt road, and the trees’ bark a rich dark brown instead of midnight black. The trees themselves, still a gigantic width, had become less gnarled and twisted. They were now straighter, with thick limbs that stretched outward instead of high in the air. With the sun breaking through the canopy there were no more desperate grabs for what sun had leaked through the tightly woven branches, and the trees knew this. The forest, which had always seemed like a living entity to Ben, seemed to relax as they crossed into Lelan territory, like the hands had finally loosened from around their necks and they were allowed to breathe.

  As the days had stretched on, the cold had come. Every morning was colder than the last, and today Ben could see the fog in his breath when he had woken from a deep sleep. He was now bundled in his Aryd wolf cloak and fur-lined gloves and had put on two pairs of wool socks as well.

  “Do you think the knights chasing us would go into Lelan territory?” Ben asked. They were on their horses, following the main road which would eventually bring them to Lelan Castle and, further on, Little Lelan.

  “No, the Lelanders would shoot them on sight,” Malagant said after his lips broke from a silver flask he was drinking from. He had switched out the leatherskin of white wine for a flask of whisky that he kept on his belt. They all had one; it kept the chill at bay. “I think we’re home free and…” He paused and glanced up at the sky, now open and showing off thick white clouds. “We can have a fire tonight.”

  Ben hissed from excitement; the entire week they hadn’t had any fires for fear of attracting the knights they knew were still pursuing them. With winter coming it had been miserable not having any warmth at night, or a hot meal to heat the body. It had been cold meat, bread, and cheese, and alcohol to stave the chill. That had been it.

  But with Ben’s cheer Malagant frowned, his friend was still looking up at the sky.

  “I know,” Teal said before Malagant could speak. “But we’re close, aren’t we?”

  “I believe so,” Malagant responded. “I haven’t taken this path to Lelan Castle in quite a while but I think we’re only two day’s ride, possibly three. It’s just that… those clouds – I don’t like the looks of them. These clouds look like the ones I’ve seen in the Frey, and that’s making me nervous.”

  At the mention of the Frey, Ben started to feel nervous as well. The Frey was one of the four holds in
Alcove; the northern hold with short summers and long dark winters. Malagant had told Ben many stories of his time in the Frey.

  Teal shook his head. “No, we’re still too far south. Perhaps if we were past Lazarius but we’ve never gotten big snowfalls during this time of year. Late winter maybe, but not now.”

  “Which is why I don’t like this,” Malagant replied, then he nudged his horse, motivating the animal to move faster. “Let’s get a few more leagues until we make camp.”

  Three mornings later Ben was shaken awake by Malagant, and when he opened his eyes he saw that overnight the world had become white.

  “Come on, Ben,” Malagant said in a strained tone. “We need to get on the road and quickly.”

  Ben looked behind Malagant and saw that large snowflakes were falling from the cottony sky. With a lump in his throat he crawled out of the tent and latched his cloak. Even though they were well into Lelan country now, and the Serpents hadn’t been seen since their quick exit that muggy night in the forest, they still slept in their boots with their weapons in reach.

  They led their horses back to the road, everyone quiet and with grim expressions on their faces, Malagant especially. Malagant kept looking up at the sky and whenever he did his jaw would lock and his gloved hands would clench the reins.

  An hour later… the wind came. A howling blast that shook the leaves off of the trees and tossed them around with the kippin-sized snowflakes. There was only white and brown in front of them now, twisting like a giant had stirred the snow with his finger. It would be beautiful if it didn’t look so deadly.

  “Malagant…” Teal yelled over the wind; he had the hood of his cloak drawn over his head like Ben did and he was crouched low to his horse. “What do you want to do?”