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

by Quil Carter

  Before Ben could ask Teal if he knew how to do that trick, Teal was taking his gloves off. Then, with a face that still held a mischievous smirk, pulled his horse close to Ben’s.

  “Watch carefully.”

  Teal rested his pointer and middle finger on the palm of his other hand and quickly drew them across his palm like his fingers were matchsticks striking.

  To Ben’s amazement a small flame erupted from the middle of Teal’s hand. It was small and flickering, but it was there.

  Ben’s mouth dropped open. “That’s fucking amazing. Why didn’t you show me this sooner? I’ve never seen you do this before. Gods-be-damned, I want to learn that.”

  Teal made a fist, extinguishing the flame. He bit the corner of his lip, looking slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t want you to ask for me to teach you, because I was, well… afraid of you hurting yourself – or light the forest on fire.”

  Ben let out a huff through his nose. Teal sensed how unimpressed he was and added: “But you’re past ready now. I can start teaching you on the road. Malagant can start teaching you how to use the bow at the same time since you’re so good with the sword now.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever have the power to draw it, let alone use it properly,” Ben replied with a sigh. The Lelanders had long, muscular arms and a grip like a bear trap, a hibrid’s were more built to maul and grip trees rather than draw a bow.

  Malagant looked up from the map. “Hey, that reminds me. Korivander said he had a present for Teal strapped to his horse. We never looked, did we?”

  “No!” Teal said excitedly. He jumped off of his horse and directed the mare off to the side of the road. Ben and Malagant did the same and quickly led the horses to a nearby patch of winter grass that had started to sprout over the thin layer of snow.

  The solemn mood that had been draping over them like a canvas was now long gone. Teal was untying the bags with excited hands, a smile on his face and a bounce in his step that made Ben and Malagant exchange amused glances.

  Teal pushed aside his sleeping roll and started digging around. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for!” Teal said as he rummaged. Ben started helping him. “For all I know Korivander gave me a bag of candied chestnuts.”

  Malagant opened one of the bags and pulled out a wheel of musty-smelling cheese. “You two look and I’ll get some lunch together. We might as well let the horses graze on that patch of grass and I can hear a stream in the distance for us to water them.” He took a bite out of the wheel of cheese; Ben rolled his eyes at this and took a dried piece of ham from the sack.

  “That’s a good idea. We can still – Oh, here it is!” Teal suddenly exclaimed. He pulled out a long bundle that was wrapped in a green silk and bound with silver rope. There was no mistaking that it was Teal’s present.

  “This is so beautiful, I think I’ll give it to Josiah. He sews, right, Malagant?” Teal asked as he ran his hand along the smooth silk.

  Malagant nodded, his mouth full of cheese. “Léaun and Laugin taught him, of course. Not their fancy magic cheat but he can do it well. He would wet himself if you gave–”

  Malagant’s voice dropped off; he set the cheese wheel down. “Oh… Teal.”

  The green silk dropped quietly to the snowy ground, as did the twine. Teal was holding in both hands a shortsword, with a rounded silver pommel and a black hilt. Though how did that make sense? It was identical to Teal’s sword that he was using right now.

  Ben looked past Teal, seeing his sword still strapped to the side of his horse. It was that sword’s twin. Well, that didn’t make sense at–

  Then it dawned on Ben, it hit him with such clarity he felt like an idiot.

  The very sword Teal carried around proudly, had been his father’s sword. It had been given to Teal as protection before Keleon killed Cruz.

  Cruz taking the other.

  “He knew,” Teal said in a strangled whisper. “My gods, Korivander knows who I am.”

  In a flash, both Ben and Malagant were by Teal’s side, their food laying forgotten, thrown on top of the burlap sack that lay a few feet away from the silk.

  Teal held up the sword and turned it. The shining sword reflected in the sunlight, but as Teal examined it, scorch marks could be seen on the metal and a rough char on the side of the pommel. It didn’t take any stretch of the imagination to know how those black marks got there.

  “He won’t tell a soul, Teal,” Malagant said, both he and Ben putting their hands supportively on Teal’s shoulder. “He just wanted the sword to go to its rightful owner.”

  Teal’s eyes were heavy; he reached up and unsheathed the sword that was belted to the top of his bed roll. When he held both of them in his hands he walked to the middle of the road and swung them in his hands.

  A small smile crept to Teal’s face as he did this. In tandem, he slashed the air with the swords several times, then twirled them, going faster and faster with each drill until the swords were nothing but a steel blur.

  When Teal stopped, Ben could see his lips were so pursed they had disappeared into his mouth. He looked down at the swords before crossing them in front of themselves, then dragging them apart like he was sharpening a knife. The air sung with the noise of steel on steel.

  “This one was named Talon.” Teal held up the scorched sword, then he raised the one he had been carrying around since he was orphaned. “And this one was Cyan.”

  “I bet they never thought they would see each other again,” Malagant said to him. They both watched as Teal gave the swords another spin. Teal had always been great at dual wielding; he was able to do incredible things when he was holding Ben’s sword.

  Ben realized in that moment that Teal must’ve learned his skills from his father. And though he had never met Cruz Fennic – he had a feeling he was seeing him through Teal.

  “How do you think he knew?” Teal asked in a hushed voice after he had lowered both of the swords. “I – I never met him before.”

  “Korivander must’ve been closer to your father than we thought. He would have to be to have gotten Talon,” Malagant said. As Teal walked back to the side of the road Malagant started dishing out their lunch. “Perhaps it was obvious and we were fools for thinking he wouldn’t figure it out. We were both born because of the demigod telling our fathers we had to be. When Dad learned you had died, he said my purpose had died with you. I didn’t think Korivander knew that but maybe I was wrong. If he knew and the son of Anagin showed up with a human and a mysterious hibrid…” When he saw the frown on Teal’s face, he smiled. “You know he won’t tell anyone, Teal.”

  “I know he won’t,” Teal said with a sigh. “I suppose I should’ve told him myself.” He sheathed the sword into the scabbard it had come in and looked down at it.

  “Can you excuse me? I need to go for a walk,” Teal said quietly. “I won’t be long.”

  Ben felt a lump form in his throat. He turned to Malagant to see if he was going to stop Teal but he only nodded.

  Ben understood – but he still felt like his place was beside his friend.

  Wordlessly Teal disappeared into the forest, leaving Ben and Malagant alone on the side of the road.

  30

  Tseer looked over at Taelie and pulled her cloak down, exposing her rain-soaked head. She had kept trying to pull it up as they trekked through the thick mud and small yet powerful rivers. The black muck had almost completely covered both of them, and Tseer’s hibrid body insulated him no more than his malkah body had.

  Mud in Azoria always reminded him of tar, there was something in the soil that made it sticky. Great for growing things, horrible for trudging through.

  They had passed many abandoned wagons in their trek to the town. Even an unfortunate stuck donkey, which by now was probably roasting on Vex’s spit with the few who remained to keep camp. Lucky bastards. Tseer was cold, wet, and miserable. He missed the warm sands of Dashavia, it had been too long since he felt the Dashavian sun on his face.

  “I�
��m cold, Viradin,” Taelie’s faint and weak voice sobbed.

  Tseer gritted his teeth and shoved her forward by her ripped fur cloak.

  “Shut up, sister,” he hissed, blinking away the raindrops as he looked ahead.

  Or perhaps she should be louder? Tseer could already see guards gathering on the large granite watchtowers eyeing them intently. They were holding torches that would soon be washed out from the rain and wind, but for now stared down at the malkah, like the red eyes of large beasts.

  Tseer turned from the tower guards and he kept his wits about him. They wouldn’t fire, he knew that much, but soon their bows would be drawn anyway, if just for show. Once they convinced their sorry selves the two pathetic fools walking towards them were alone, they would be barking orders and demanding answers.

  Which would be perfect, it was exactly what Tseer wanted.

  Tseer gave a hard yank, practically dragging the hibrid girl through the mud. She was still sobbing and complaining of the cold, though her voice was too small for him to understand her.

  “Who goes there!?” a commanding voice, almost inaudible over the torrent of rain and wind, rang.

  “Viradin Ahren, son of Arganti, and Taelie Ahren,” Tseer cried out, adopting his most desperate pathetic voice imaginable. “We were attacked; Arganti Ahren is dead. I must see Lord Philrick. You must take me to Lord Philrick.”

  Tseer saw a swirl of a green cloak, and the glint of armour as the elf disappeared from the watchtower. He left behind over a dozen archers, still with their bows drawn and their torches being snuffed out one by one by the rains; only the torches still in the watchtowers lit the battlements of the walls.

  Tseer held his grip tightly on Taelie’s cloak, and as he did, he looked at his other hand. It was rain-washed and pale, and his sharp hibrid claws were flexing with stress. He was still a hibrid, and if Captain Vasser did his job correctly, he would remain one.

  Dashavian and Evercovian magic wasn’t only banned in Azrayne, it was outright impossible to perform inside their walls. Azrayne had been the safest place in Azoria and, most likely, all of Alcove. Walls of granite and more archers, guards, and rogue knights than most forts, and a strong magical barrier protecting its walls. It was the biggest town in Azoria, with its sister town, Azrah, resting only fifty leagues away.

  Lord Philrick was the Lord of Azoria, and a surly coidog that would rather send every single Calin soldier to their deaths before he would let a Serpent inside his walls. He had done it too. Every strike King Erick had laid on Azrayne had been in vain. The magic was too strong; their loyalty to Calin too strong; their gods-be-damned spirit too strong.

  The magic though… the magic was the strong-arm of the town. But that had ended months ago. All thanks to Philrick’s Head Mage, Amren Tolney, who had become a turncloak. He had grown tired of Philrick’s refusal to bend the knee to King Erick; a lord who would rather turn a blind eye to his town’s collapse than accept King Zahn as Alcove’s king. The other lords had fallen loyal long ago, putting their elves well-being above their hatred for the Draken King.

  Lord Firemane had, Lord Fraust had, and, well, Lord Ahren… he had, though it didn’t help him in the end. Syr Amren Tolney had convinced himself that he was doing the right thing; helping the elves or whatever shek he called it. He had sold out Philrick for sanctuary and the deed to Jausenhall, a holdfast in Azoria that had once held the Tonnis House. He had convinced himself he was doing something good, but he was a traitor no matter how well the mage fooled himself.

  Amren Tolney was a walking corpse, much like most of the fools residing in the castle. He would have a knife in his back before he even had a chance to warm his ass on the fires of Jausenhall. To the lords of Alcove and their subjects, a turncloak was a turncloak and they never lasted. Either killed by the remnants of the House they had shamed, or killed by Erick himself for questioned loyalty.

  But why was Tseer to care? He had no fixed loyalty; he was a bounty hunter, a sellmage. He worked for gold and his son’s freedom and he would be nothing but a black swirl of smoke before anyone in Azrayne had a chance to put a knife in his back. What happened after Erick got into Azrayne was none of his concern. He needed the covis, and with this last royal contract he would finally have enough to free his son.

  “We will have one of our mages here momentarily to make sure you are not under any spells without your knowledge,” the captain shouted, appearing again on the wall.

  Tseer gritted his teeth; though Tolney was in their pockets he wasn’t sure about the others.

  “My sister is extremely weak, I’m injured. I am the heir of Alathéa and my sister is betrothed to Philrick Fendil’s son.”

  “I’m sorry, Lordling Viradin. Azrayne has also had an increase in activity regarding King Zahn. Surely you understand.”

  Tseer swore under his breath, beside him he could hear Taelie crying. Her cloak still off of her head. She looked like a drown rat, or cat rather. Her skin was whitewashed, ghostly from the heavy rainfall and she was trembling. Surely if the creature died in front of them from sick they would let them in. Or perhaps there was an easier way.

  “Let me extend my hand through the gate and the mage’s barrier. You will see it will remain hibrid. Surely that will convince you? Lord Fendil’s Archmage can check us out fully once we’re out of the storm. Captain, I must insist you consider this for your future lady’s health.”

  Tseer could barely see the captain through the rain falling into his eyes, but he thought he could see the captain shift around uncomfortably, looking at the archers and torchbearers for help.

  After several tense moments the captain nodded.

  “Let us see your hand,” he shouted finally, disappearing again from the wall. Tseer let out a relieved breath and walked over to the thick gate. This would be no less of a tense moment though, if his olive-coloured skin and elven hands appeared through the gate he and the bitch would become pincushions.

  Pulling Taelie with him, he trudged through the mud to the gate. As he approached he could see there was a small gathering outside of it. Gawking at him like he was some sort of freak show. Not just the guard but residents as well. Pale faced, gaunt Alcovians willing to give up everything for a shred of safety from the outside world. Half-starved dogs from the looks of them, while Philrick sat fat on his ass, stuffing his red cheeks with mutton and cheese. The poor dogs were still better off though, better to starve in the streets than eventually reside in an accalite’s stomach or forced into a Serpent’s bed.

  With the starved fools gaping at him, Tseer outstretched his hand and pressed it through a small space in the thick iron bars.

  The captain, an elven-hibrid half-breed with a dull look about him, nodded and exhaled a breath. He looked almost as relieved as Tseer felt. No one wanted to be ambushed tonight, not on this day. The gods were angry today with the amount of rain and wind they were receiving. Wherever those gods were now.

  A storm worthy of Daran’s blessing, they would sometimes say in Dashavia. Rain there was a lifebringer but tonight the rains were only harbingers of death.

  “Open the gate, send someone to Manderlyhall,” the captain shouted. Tseer withdrew his clawed hand. He kept his face straight and stoic, however inside his heart was racing.

  Good job, Tolney, good job.

  He stepped back as the grinding squeal of the opening gates could be heard. He walked in, tucking his hands into his soaking wet cloak. The girl crying behind him but he had no use for her now. The guard would be more than happy to play knight-in-shining-armour to the little bitch.

  Sure enough, she was at his side again, being carried by another elf trying to be a hero. He waved off the captain’s offering of a litter and decided instead to hop on the back of the captain’s horse. With the residence still gawking at them, the captain kicked the horse in the ribs and they rode off towards the castle.

  The king’s serpent was in Azrayne. The first one in almost half a decade.

  An old elf with blue
eyes and jowls like a bulldog greeted them with a luma lamp. He took one look at Tseer and Taelie and fell to his knees.

  “Oh, Anea blesses you. Oh, Anea above, how did you ever escape the assassination?” he cried, holding his wrinkled hands to the storm above them. Tseer looked on, waiting for the old fool to finish. He wanted a warm fire, not some bastard councilelf singing the gods’ praises. The real Viradin was nothing more than a pile of accalite shek now, and the girl’s mind was so fried with Dashavian magic, she would be nothing but a raving bagger on the streets if she survived Azrayne’s takeover.

  After the councilelf was done, he led them into the castle. Tseer raised his head and momentarily closed his eyes as the warmth of the castle touched his rain-soaked skin. Highborn castles were Darsheive’s gift on cold days and harsh storms. That being said, magically-warmed enchantments were not needed in most areas of Dashavia. A cold castle was its own gift back home under the red sun.

  “When will Philrick see me?” Tseer said, keeping his voice weak. They were ushering him and the hibrid girl down a hallway with a large room at the end of it.

  “He is resting and being roused as we speak, Lordling Viradin. Please, our servants will dress you in warm clothes and give you hot food from the kitchens,” the old councilelf said.

  They walked into the hall. It was draped in red and green banners holding the snapping jaws of a crocodile. Azoria’s own sigil. One adopted because of its large section of reptile-infested marshland that bordered the eastern coast.

  Taelie sniffed and whimpered. Tseer looked over at the rain-soaked girl. The sooner she was gone the better. “I must insist my sister visit the healer immediately. I’ll be fine but she is with fever.”

  “Our healer has already been alerted for the both of you. She will arrive–”

  “No.” Tseer shook his head. “What I must tell Lord Philrick is not for a lady’s ears. Please have someone accompany her to the physician’s wing.”