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

by Quil Carter

  “I’ve sent out hawks, my king,” Keleon said. “Your soldiers are stronger than ever and thirst for battle.”

  Erick smiled; he licked his lips with his pointed Dashavian tongue. “What battle? Who will oppose us? Korivander?” Erick started to laugh.

  A smirk came to Keleon’s face. “King Korivander is a soft-hearted king, he will do anything to avoid open war with Alcove. The Lelan are split into their hold-groups; they are weak now. We do not fear them.”

  The king nodded. “I grow tired of Korivander getting his nose in Alcove’s business. If I didn’t know better I would believe he thought he was the new rebel King of Alcove. What of the other kingdoms?”

  “Evercove and Dashavia still want peace with us, but King Nioke of Darancove will not be happy with our latest actions. He has stated on several occasions that he wouldn’t stand for any more assassinations.”

  “Then perhaps King Nioke should be lied to?” Erick said casually. He glanced over at Sweeny, who was now standing in the corner of the throne room looking scared, as usual.

  “Sweeny, fetch me a quill and parchment. I suppose I should send a hawk to King Nioke about this unfortunate accident, before he gets word himself,” Erick said.

  Sweeny nodded his head and disappeared.

  “The Lelanders are one thing, but only a tyrant fool would be brash enough to risk war with those seaslugs. They have an incredible army and by the time they get here it will be spring and those tropic-loving elf-fish will be all the more dangerous. We do need to keep Darancove happy,” Erick said, drumming his fingers against his chin. “Tell the Chancellor I will need him; he’ll need to help me word that letter to our beloved Darcovian King.”

  “And what about King Korivander? He will not be happy when he hears about Arganti and eventually Philrick,” Keleon asked. “We not only killed Arganti, we killed his heir as well.”

  “Warn him about the consequences of going against the King of Alcove,” Erick said in a dangerous tone. “I am not afraid of war with the Lelanders, and I want him to know it. If he dare try to conjure up a rebellion I will crush those squirrels like the dirty rodents they are.”

  Keleon nodded. He was about to open his mouth to say something when the doors to the throne room opened.

  The high priests, Krafter and Stolas, walked inside and made their way, wordlessly, towards the throne.

  Erick smiled and watched as the priests bowed in front of him.

  “You wished to see me?”

  Krafter nodded, then glanced over at Keleon. “Grand Master?”

  “I will take my leave then,” Keleon said, his voice not sounding overly impressed. He had never cared for the priests. It was no secret among Erick and his court that Keleon hated magic and magery.

  “No need, these matters are not to be discussed in such an open area,” Stolas said, his voice almost a growl. “King, I suggest your study?”

  Erick stood up and glanced over at Keleon as he was leaving. “Direct Sweeny to my chambers, I will be needing him later.”

  “Yes, my king,” Keleon responded.

  Erick turned and left with the priest.

  “He is loyal but Keleon has a black heart,” Stolas said, his voice amused. “Given the chance, that elf will cut your throat.”

  Erick looked behind him as the doors to the throne room closed shut. “Grand Master Keleon has been indispensable since the beginning, his ties to the highborns are invaluable.”

  “Yes, surely all he has done has been for your benefit,” Krafter snorted.

  Erick glared at him. “Yes, like everything you’ve done for me has been for your benefit,” he said coolly.

  Stolas laughed and Krafter shot him a glare.

  “Anyway, my friends,” Erick said. They all started up a flight of stairs that led to his personal quarters. “Sweeny says you needed to see me about something?”

  Krafter and Stolas both nodded together, then Stolas stopped. Erick turned to ask him why he had stopped when Krafter grabbed his arm.

  “He needs to make sure we’re not being followed,” Krafter said, pulling Erick up the last few remaining stairs. Erick glanced down at the priest questionably but allowed Krafter to take him to the royal chambers.

  When the door closed behind him Erick stood there looking confused. He watched as Stolas took off his priest robes, revealing a leather black doublet and pants.

  “Who would follow us?” Erick asked. A few moments later the door opened and Stolas stepped in. The blood-eyed Dashavian glanced over at his fellow priest.

  “We’re clear, it’s him,” he said before stepping away from the door.

  “Who?” Erick asked confused, but before his priests had a chance to answer, the door opened again.

  To Erick’s utter shock in walked an elegantly-dressed elf with feathery silver hair that was partially covered by a jewel-encrusted circlet. He looked at the three before gliding towards them, his white and blue robes trailing behind.

  “Kelakheva?” Erick gasped taking a surprised step back. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

  Kelakheva looked at him, an amused expression on his alabaster face.

  “Get down on your knees!” Erick snapped to Krafter and Stolas, but the two priests only crossed their arms.

  “They won’t bow to me.” Kelakheva smirked, brushing several strands of shining hair behind his earring-adorned ears. “Not yet anyway.”

  Stolas’s red eyes flashed. “In your dreams,” he said with a growl. Then he looked down and nudged Erick with his foot. “Get up, human.”

  “I’m not a fool, priest!” Erick snapped. “I know enough of this world to respect the gods.”

  “You’ve taught him well,” Kelakheva mused.

  “Even dumb dogs can learn basic commands,” Stolas said with a scoff, then he turned to Kelakheva and motioned to him. “Well? I could feel the energy from the split all the way from here. Do you have it?”

  Erick looked at Stolas in absolute horror. Not only was it unheard of for the priest to talk to him in such a manner, but he was being incredibly disrespectful to the demigod.

  But he found himself too stunned to move, all he could do was stare at the odd exchange happening right in front of him.

  Kelakheva grinned at the two priests, a smile unsuited for the demigod’s soft and elegant features. The grin was almost vile – this was incredibly strange.

  “Indeed,” the demigod said wryly. His sparking eyes an unusual midnight blue with purple flecks. The sparkling stars Erick had seen in them before were gone. “I have what you seek.”

  The demigod held out his hand and, out of thin air, a black leather-bound book appeared. He grasped it with both hands and presented it to Stolas.

  “The prophecies?” Erick found himself gasping. “It’s finally writing? S-Stolas… you said once it… it wrote…” Erick walked over to look at the text but Stolas snapped the book shut before he even got a glance.

  “This is my prophecy, priest. Let me see it,” Erick said angrily; the disrespect he was being shown was finally outweighing the stunned feeling inside of him. “The jewel is going to be mine when I find it. Don’t forget who I am.”

  Stolas stared at him, holding the book in his hand with a hard grip. As Erick glared back, to his surprise, the priest closed his eyes for a brief moment and drew in a long breath.

  “I have been waiting… so long for this.”

  Erick glared at him, Stolas’s comment throwing him off-kilter. “For what?” he asked slowly.

  Suddenly Stolas raised his hands and hit Erick across the face with the leather-bound book. Erick flew backwards with a surprised scream, the force of the blow throwing him completely off of his feet and landing him hard on the ground in front of a bookshelf.

  Krafter burst out laughing; Kelakheva looked on, his expression unchanged.

  Erick groaned and struggled to get to his feet, blood now running down his nose and mouth, and the crown on his head several feet behind him on the carpet. />
  He looked at Stolas bewildered and shocked, his mouth opening and closing several times before he found his voice.

  “W-what’s wrong with you?” Erick exclaimed. He unsteadily got to his feet and grabbed onto a nearby table to keep himself upright. “I’m your damn king, the chosen one from the prophecies,” he stammered.

  Krafter walked over to him. Erick glanced up and held out his hand for Krafter to take it and help steady him – when the priest kicked him hard in the side.

  Erick gasped and fell to his knees, the blood from his nose and mouth making wet spots on the carpet. He looked up at Krafter, his breathing laboured, just in time to see the Crithian priest grab him and jerk him up to standing; he was surprisingly strong.

  Erick looked up at Krafter in shock and the priest glared back, his ice-blue eyes narrowing dangerously as he beheld the Draken King like he was nothing but a piece of shek on his shoe.

  Then with lightning fast speed, he grabbed onto Erick’s throat and clenched it.

  Erick choked as Krafter raised the king up into the air, his toes barely brushing against the floor below them.

  “Such a bratty little king,” Krafter whispered, tilting his head to the side. “No longer though. Now that we can finally move forward, pretty little human… now that we have our own prophecies, things are going to change. Do you understand me?” His blue eyes seemed to flash with excitement over the mention of the prophecies, like the word itself was orgasmic.

  Erick gasped, his hands grabbing Krafter’s locked grip, trying to pry the talons from his throat.

  “You may as well kill me then, Krafter,” Erick croaked. “Because unless you do, I’ll have Keleon kill you two as soon as I leave this room, or let Nyte finish you two traitors off.”

  Krafter smirked, behind him Kelakheva opened the prophecies and ran his finger down the page.

  “Read it, Kelakheva…” Krafter said, tightening his grip against Erick’s throat. “Tell the human, just who he has been ordering around for the last four years.”

  The demigod glanced up. “I’m sorting through many lines of text, but I suppose this is what you’re looking for.” Kelakheva cleared his throat. “As the Elder jewel shatters, bringing the loyal to their knees. The Draken Gods will stand tall, on the throne of dead and dying kings.”

  “T-the Draken Gods?” Erick whispered.

  He looked from Kelakheva, back to the high priest that was holding him, but what he saw made him let out a startled cry.

  It was no longer Krafter.

  In front of Erick was someone of striking beauty, an unblemished, immaculate-looking elf with such perfect features Erick found his fear being replaced by awe.

  The elf was almost too perfect to be real. His black hair, short in the back but falling in long bangs over his eyes, was shiny and soft. His face, with a short goatee, had high cheekbones and lips a deep shade of red that surrounded pearly white, perfectly straight teeth.

  And his eyes… Erick found himself transfixed. They were a dark blue and seemed depthless, and as Erick stared into them he saw swirls of colour and light, so deep Erick was sure he would fall into another dimension if he stared at them long enough.

  “Xalis,” Erick said in a hushed and broken whisper. He had studied the gods of Elron, there was no doubt in his mind who he was staring back at.

  The god of the Crithian’s thin red lips split into a smile, then he dropped Erick from his grasp. The king stumbled but managed to remain standing. With a nervous tremble shaking his body he looked over to where Stolas had been standing.

  Where Stolas had once stood, now stood another elf. He looked identical to his brother, but his black hair was combed over his head. The god of the Dashavian’s stood with his arms crossed, smiling mischeviously at King Erick. He was dressed similarly to his twin brother, a soft leather black jerkin with gold clasps down the front, with a red linen shirt underneath, black trousers, and shining fitted boots.

  “Darsheive?” Erick said faintly; he looked ready to pass out. “You – how? How did this happen? Did you know this, Kelakheva?”

  Kelakheva nodded, not even looking up from the black leather book. “I am the Lord of the Prophecies and Elder God Anea’s demigod, Erick Zahn. Of course I did.”

  Erick took a step back shaking his head. “This can’t be real, priests brought me here… Krafter and Stolas…”

  Xalis and Darsheive both let out an indentical bone-chilling laugh. Erick stared wide-eyed at both of them; he took another step back until his back hit the stone wall.

  “Like a priest can access your world,” Xalis said amused, his nebula-like eyes flashed. He took a step towards Erick and craned his neck so he was nose-to-nose with the terrified king. “Only your wonderful deities can, you’re welcome.” The god leaned in further before his lips pressed against Erick’s. Erick let out a nervous whimper; his eyes shut as Xalis’s lips trailed down, before he gently started kissing his neck.

  “Stop intimidating him, Xalis. He’s going to piss himself,” Darsheive said from behind his brother.

  Xalis laughed; Erick felt a tongue run up his neck before the god’s minty breath could be felt in his ear. “But he’s so scared,” he hissed. “I just love it.”

  “And being scared in front of a god isn’t stupid,” Darsheive said.

  Xalis rolled his eyes as he pulled away from Erick. He raised a hand and patted Erick’s cheek playfully. “You’re such a frightened little human, aren’t you? Such a coward, not too kingly now, are we?”

  As the god patted his cheek, Erick seemed to break out of his terror-induced trance. He looked at Xalis and managed to stammer. “Why are you here?”

  It had been so long since he felt this weak and vulnerable, four years actually. He wasn’t used to this feeling, he had been king for so long.

  “Don’t get too upset, Your Grace,” Darsheive said, his voice thick with mocking. He walked over to Kelakheva and glanced at the leather book. “Nothing is going to change, really. You’ll just be taking orders from us directly, instead of us having to manipulate you first.”

  Erick stared dumbfounded. “You – you two want Anea’s jewel don’t you? Does the prophecy include you two? Is that what this is?”

  Darsheive smiled and looked over at his twin brother.

  “Our plans go much deeper than just the jewel,” he said quietly, his tone was subdued but dangerous. “And those plans involve you – does that excite you, human?”

  “I don’t understand,” Erick whispered. His heart was thrashing inside of his chest; he had once been the feared Draken King, the King of Alcove, now in front of the gods he was naught but an insect waiting to be squashed.

  For the first time in many years, he wished to be in his own world. A world he had tried to forget long ago.

  “You’re a lucky human, Erick Zahn,” Xalis said. Erick could feel a chill go up his spine as the god stared directly at him, he could swear he was looking into his soul.

  “Why?” Erick whispered.

  Xalis and Darsheive both casually walked up to him, Erick’s body tensing as they did. The two gods stood side by side, identical grins highlighting their flawless faces.

  At the same time the gods raised opposite hands and together they framed Erick’s face. They both stroked in an oddly caring manner, their free hands clasped together tightly.

  Then they both leaned in and kissed Erick’s cheeks, before turning and kissing each other.

  “You’re going to get to witness the start of a new age,” Darsheive said, as he pulled away from his brother’s lips. “The age of unification.”

  On the Black Road.

  “Here you are, missy,” a tall elf with a scar-covered face growled, throwing down a plate of boiled roots and burnt rice.

  Taelie glared at him, wishing she had a way to throw the food back into his face, but her hands were bound and she was unable to move properly.

  They were miles away from the Black Road in a sparse woods. The Serpents had set up a hasty
camp and had chained her to a nearby tree. She was away from the camp in the darkness, with weird noises around her she didn’t recognize and cracking in the dense bushes that made her heart rise to her throat. But she didn’t show fear, the last thing she wanted was for those Serpent dogs to see she was afraid.

  “Not good enough, miss?” the elf laughed. He turned around and addressed the dozen knights and soldiers crowded around a large fire several paces away. “You hear that, boys? It’s not good enough for the Ladybird of Alathéa.”

  There was a roar of mocking laughter from the group, followed by their usual taunting. Taelie looked away, her pointed teeth chewing her tongue to keep her from saying something that would get her killed, or at the very least, make their taunting worse.

  “Take it away from her then. If it’s too good for her, the bitch can starve,” Tseer hissed as he ripped savagely into a piece of deer that was cooking over a spit; blood dripped down his chin.

  “Hear that? Go ahead and starve, bitch,” the knight laughed. He took the plate away and threw the contents into the woods. “Maybe that’ll attract a nice big gruleon; he’d love to make a meal out of such a pretty lass.” Then he leaned in towards Taelie and hissed into her ear. “I’d love to make a meal out of you too, pretty thing.” He laughed again and turned to walk back to the camp, leaving Taelie where she was bound, a fresh look of terror on her face.

  The knight sat down next to a skinny soldier with a sharp face. He brought out a curved knife with a Dashavian design up the hilt, and sliced off a chunk of bloodied, half-raw meat.

  “The scouts say they found a couple hibrids out when they were hunting,” the skinny soldier said to the knight as they both ate in front of the fire.

  “What did they do with them?” the knight asked.

  “What do you think?” the skinny elf said, brushing his greasy black hair from his face. “The accalites chased them down and pinned them for the scouts, on Tseer’s command they made short work of them.”