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

by Quil Carter

  The old elf nodded understandably. Taelie let out another whimper as they led her away from her brother. Tseer turned away from her without another word and let the councilelf lead him to his temporary chamber.

  It would be easier for the hibrid girl to die in the takeover. He could kill her now if he wanted, but he was a father, and though he felt nothing towards the hibrid girl, it was of no risk to him to at least give the little wretch a chance.

  The room they left him in was empty, dark, but warm. Tseer looked around to see it was made from blackened granite brick, with red and green embroidered banners draping from the ceilings in between twisting green vines of the wineflower. The vines looked to be curled over large twists and swirls of cast iron that covered both the ceilings and the walls.

  The wineflowers weren’t in season, but once they flowered Tseer was sure they would cover the ceiling and walls in crimson red. It would look even more beautiful in the spring and summer.

  He promised himself in that moment he would cover the ceiling of his new home in wineflowers. It had been years since he stood in Marillion Valahir’s hall begging for his son’s release but he remembered it had high ceilings with wooden beams to support it. If he knew he would one day own Marillion’s holdfast he would’ve paid closer attention. From memory it seemed that the wineflower would do quite well; it could grow on the beams.

  Shall I kill Marillion’s family or enslave them? If he treats the other elves who work under him half as bad as he treated the boy he enslaved, perhaps I will let them switch jobs with the Valahir family. Those elves would be loyal to me to the end if I was the one who freed them, even with my Dashavian blood.

  Tseer closed his eyes and tried to remember Tsoren’s face. It had been so long since he had seen him. The boy was in all respects a grown elf now, his boyish voice would have deepened and his body grown. Would Tsoren be taller than him now?

  Seleene was only slightly shorter than me. My beautiful goddess was tall for a Dashavian ladyelf, so perhaps Tsoren will be looking down at me. Tsoren had my eyes but his mother’s curly black hair and her pointed chin as well. However tall he is, I know he will shatter the hearts of many chaylen before he finds his partner.

  Every scar King Erick has given me, every rape in those prisons, every parasite from that damn kessiik, every arrow from that bastard Ahris knight, every taunt from those priests. Let the walking dead have their pendants, let them have Anea’s jewel. I had no preference for what king rules Alcove or what god is fighting which.

  I am no hero, I am only for hire.

  Tseer warmed his hands over the roaring bright orange flames of the fireplace. Artificial flames, most likely lit the moment word got to the castle of an Ahren Lordling’s arrival. Azrayne was artificial in so many ways; it had to be. Philrick had cut them off from nearly everyone and everything. Just as he himself had cut himself off from everyone. Azrayne was run on magic now, and though magic was mighty, it was a fool’s safehold. Magic was only as useful as its least loyal mage.

  Philrick had become too complacent, too trusting, too lazy. It was easier to rely on Tolney and his mages. That would be his downfall. Head-in-the-sand Philrick as Erick had once called him. A fool.

  “Viradin Ahren?” a voice called, a higher pitch than most elves.

  Tseer turned around, his hands still out to the fire. Lord Philrick was walking towards him, shaking his head in disbelief; an old elf with a large stomach and eyes like a pig.

  Behind him his son trailed. The opposite of his father; he had the same small eyes but he was slender and held himself like a Lordling.

  “Taelie, is my lady okay?” Kirick asked hurriedly.

  The malkah with the hibrid face nodded. “They took her to the healer. Go to her.” With that the lord’s son turned and disappeared. Tseer was glad to be rid of him. Viradin Ahren had been his friend; he didn’t want to risk him noticing his off mannerisms. Kirick needed to be sent away, sent away to fawn over the bitch.

  Kirick would not stand a chance though, Vex had made a point to request Tseer send him to the healer. He was going to be needed back at the castle for Philrick’s interrogation. King Erick had a thing for using children to get their fathers to speak. The king had done some grim things to them over the years.

  “Viradin, I’m so sorry about your father. Pray tell me, who was it? What happened? Has Erick started another wave of compliance attacks?”

  Your worst fear, Tseer thought. Azoria is the only hold that hadn’t become completely compliant. The other lords welcome the Serpents, or on the surface they did. They let them slither through their streets like the reptiles they were.

  Not Azrayne though. Azoria’s lord hid in his town and his castle and ignored the snakes crawling through the rest of his hold. As long as Azrayne, where he was, was safe – that’s all Philrick had cared about.

  “I’m not sure who he was but he was a malkah. He killed everyone but myself and my sister. They whistled for the accalites, but we got away before they found us. I… I don’t know how long we had run for. Weeks.”

  The fat lord shook his head, his fat cheeks wiggling like jelly. “Oh, Viradin,” he said again. “Your father was a fine, fine elf, like a brother to me. We have Anea to thank for delivering his heir and my beloved son’s betrothed to safety. You can shelter here until it is safe for you to return to Alathéa. Does Lordling Desa know?”

  The other brother… probably would be disappointed if Viradin had survived. He would be the heir in his brother’s place now.

  “No, we haven’t seen anyone,” Tseer said. He accepted a dry cloak from one of the servants and a change of warm cloth shoes.

  These will be horrible for the takeover, Tseer grumbled in his own head. He glanced behind him at a closed window. It was past time. Vex and Vasser will be waiting for their rope on the wall. He was through mincing words and making small talk.

  In stories of old, of malkahs, croaghs, and crithos’s taking over the minds of lords, there was copious amounts of screaming involved; a lot of struggling, a lot of chaos and danger. It was all good storytelling – and not true.

  In reality the takeover of Philrick’s mind was as simple as a wave of Tseer’s hand.

  The lord’s face froze as he opened his mouth to say more drivel and his eyes stared blankly ahead. Even the servants couldn’t tell. The two of them, a lady Lelander and an elf boy continued to gather warm clothes and good wine. They were put to sleep quickly as well. No need to kill them either, he wasn’t getting paid for it anyway.

  Tseer made the lord walk with him, making sure that the hallways around them were clear. The lord’s blank expression would be a dead give-away, but Tseer couldn’t risk his brain frying with more control than he needed. Philrick needed his memory intact when King Erick Zahn got a hold of him.

  Pulling his cloak over his head, Tseer led the lord towards where he knew the outer wall was closest to the keep.

  The map of the large hall of Azrayne was crisp in Tseer’s head, but even with his quick movements he knew the keep would be buzzing with the councilelves and keepers frantic from the new arrivals. Sure enough, he had to pull the lord into a few empty chambers when guards and hall-keeps passed them by, but managed to reach the wall surrounding Manderlyhall un-noticed.

  Wiping the rain away from his eyes, he silently led his captive down the brick walkway, towards the outer wall. The fat lord walking obediently, not making a sound despite the wet, angry weather. Even if the walls came down around him in a fiery mess of mortar, the lord wouldn’t flinch. The priests and Erick had trusted him with their royal affairs for a reason, they knew he was the best Dashavian for the job.

  As they turned the last corner, Tseer halted the lord. The torches had been encompassed with magic, lighting the outer wall around them with a brilliant unnatural light, not unlike the fireplace inside. It was Alcovian magic, a foolish magic honed to aid rather than destroy.

  No matter, Tseer’s mouth turned to a scowl. He stepped in front of the lo
rd and raised his hibrid hand. With a push of intangible force from his mind, his magical will burst through his fingers like threads.

  The raindrops bounced off of the invisible energy and the threads wrapped themselves around the torches and covered them. The world around Tseer became dark, darker than the natural night. In shadow, Tseer pressed on with the Lord of Azrayne.

  When Tseer rounded a corner, he stopped again. A guard, cloaked in heavy wool with a longsword strapped to his side, was standing against the wall. He was looking curiously at the torches that had just been covered.

  As the guard reached his hand to touch the torch, Tseer once again held out his hand. There was another push, and he relieved the guard of his senses.

  The Alcovian looked around wildly, and brought his hands up to his head and clutched it. He let out a loud cry and started to run, conveniently right over the side of the wall.

  The sickening sound of the guard hitting mud and ground could be heard over the rain and wind. Tseer lowered his hand and took in a deep breath. Although he was powerful, performing magic was draining. He still needed as much strength as he could for the trip back to the Pyre. One more guard and he would need time to recharge; that was the last thing he wanted.

  Thankfully, the next turn revealed the area Vex had specified: a small bridge that connected the walkway of the keep to the east wall. In the far corner of the soaked stone was a small area partially hidden by an empty guard tower, with small waterfalls falling off of the tower turrets like sheets.

  He threw his cloak over Philrick and secured a small cord from his cloak around the lord’s neck, before rushing him quickly over the bridge. Then, in his left hand, a larger coil of rope appeared. It was over fifty feet long, long enough for the Serpents.

  Tseer pushed the lord down to his knees to keep him in the shadow of the tower, and tied the rope against one of the battlements. With a quick look around, he threw the rope over the edge, and crouched down beside the lord.

  Tseer gave his head a shake and let out a small growl. He was without a cloak now, in his cloth robes and bare arms. Never more than in that moment did he miss the sands of Dashavia. He would even settle for the choking heat of Dashavia’s jungle region Dar’Sithelis; any place but here. Even though he was in a hibrid’s form, a demi-elf more adapted for colder weather, his heart was still Dashavian and the only thing they hated more than being cold, was being wet.

  The rope became taut, and after what seemed like an eternity of waiting in the storm, a hibrid knight appeared over the back of the wall. In a black cloak rimmed with red, he leapt over the battlements onto the walkway. He had strapped to his back several coiled hemp rope ladders.

  The hibrid wordlessly secured the first ladder, his movements an encompassment of stealth, before giving the Serpents below a wave.

  “I’m going down first. I want well away from here before the first drop of blood hits stone,” Tseer said, rising to his feet.

  “General Vex is coming up,” the hibrid said, his voice unsure. “I’ll secure you a ladder behind the tower, Syr Tseer.”

  Tseer hissed. One rope, one rope that was the deal. The Dashavian malkah looked over the edge into the darkness below.

  He could see their dark silhouettes lining the side of the wall, all in a row. Hugging the tall stones to make themselves blend in with the shadows. There were dozens and dozens of them, more than he had suspected. Manderlyhall was well-guarded but the guards had become complacent and comfortable according to Tolney, it would be easily overtaken. The rest of Azrayne though would be a bloody battle. Tseer wanted to be in the Pyre long before then.

  The hibrid went off to drop another ladder, leaving Tseer alone with Philrick. Too much time had passed already, soon they would notice both Viradin and Philrick gone.

  Tseer cursed himself for leaving the servants stunned and alive in their chambers. They would be coming-to by the top of the hour, and surely they would be seeking help.

  Perhaps he should have killed them…

  A rain-soaked hand, flush from gripping the ladder, appeared. General Vex drew his cloak over his hair and swung himself onto the wall. He took a quick glance around before noticing Tseer and Philrick.

  “Are you staying for Kirick?” he asked. The rope behind him started to move as more Serpents scaled the walls.

  “I can only take one with me,” Tseer said. “Keep Kirick alive and send him on a strong destrier with a few Serpents.”

  Suddenly he noticed movement behind Vex. An Azrayne guard had spotted them, and had turned to run.

  “We’ve been seen,” Tseer hissed. He was too far away for his own magic to work, and even if he hadn’t he wasn’t risking his own life for their cause. His maegic was drained enough as it is.

  “No need to worry,” Vex said, glancing behind his shoulder. His hands became blur as he reached into his cloak and drew a throwing knife.

  With a flash of silver, Vex turned and threw the knife. It hit its mark and became imbedded in the nape of the guard’s neck. The elf screamed and stumbled before falling crooked upon the battlements.

  Tseer was impressed, the wind was strong and he was sure the dagger would miss its mark. Vex must’ve been a seasoned feroe warrior before he had come to Alcove.

  “Chaka, too much noise,” Vex hissed. He looked over the edge and offered a hand to Vasser.

  “HEY!” another voice called. Tseer’s hibrid face fell into a sneer as he saw several more guards in front of the fallen; all of them holding torches and wielding swords. Unlike their fallen comrade these ones hadn’t stumbled upon them during rounds – they must’ve been alerted. The guards looked armed and ready, though the gathering was little threat besides the possibility to alert the whole keep. Secrecy had been the ace needed to pull this operation off. Tseer needed to get out of here.

  “He’s stealing Viradin! Alert the guard!” one shouted, and like the guard before him, he also turned and ran towards the inner keep.

  “This is all you; I’m getting out of here,” Tseer said. His was voice barely audible over Vasser shouting orders over the battlements. There was a flurry of activity around him as the Serpents crawled over the wall and onto the walkway like insects, the rain singing as it hit their steel armour.

  Tseer looked behind him and saw half a dozen rain-soaked Serpents. Armed to the teeth, their brainwashed eyes obedient and focused. They were quick, quicker than he had thought they would be.

  Trouble was snapping at the Dashavian’s heals, he should have been out of there by now. Each watchtower had guards with quivers full of arrows, they would be falling like maggots from a carcass at any moment.

  Captain Vasser was already in front of them, leading the Serpents down the bridge and into the inner walls of the keep. Serpents were now bumping Tseer’s shoulders as they rushed past him; the sound of swords being drawn from scabbards filling the thick air.

  Tseer grabbed onto Philrick as the last Serpent pushed past him. He wasn’t one for grand exits; he put Philrick onto one of the rope coils and grabbed onto the one beside it.

  Without another word, he climbed down.

  31

  The clouds were murky ink spots above them, so dark that Ben could barely see where the trees ended and the sky began. Even though it was still a few hours before night fell on them, everything was already shrouded in a misty darkness. He could barely see the shadow of Teal, as he crawled up the small stronghold. A three-storey structure with the look of neglect but in this storm it was a gods’ send haven.

  Teal had spotted it while he had gone off trail on an unsuccessful hunt. All of the smaller game had disappeared into hiding to shelter from the weather, but at least he had found something a bit better than a canvas tent draped over wet tree branches.

  The stronghold was made of grey rock and mortar which had crumbled with age. It had rotten ropes hanging from the small bare windows, which Malagant had said once secured banners. It was solid and had a good roof, but the wood door was unfortunately stuck i
n place. Teal had volunteered to scale it, not only to unwedge it from the inside, but to make sure it was safe and empty as well.

  They needed some place safe, three times that day they had to scramble off of the road because of Serpents. With the storm beating down on them, Teal and Ben’s hearing was compromised. The last thing they wanted was to be nose-to-nose with-armed Serpent soldiers.

  Malagant’s rain-washed face illuminated as a flash of lightning broke the sky. His raven hair was stuck to his face and neck, water droplets falling off of his silver hooped earrings. He was looking up at Teal nervously as he crawled through the window, before disappearing into the stronghold.

  “If there’s a night to do this, I suppose this is the night,” Malagant said, raising his voice over the storm so Ben could hear him.

  Ben noticed he was holding his small crystal bottle of Kova’s Seeve. It had been almost a week since they had left Rhastt now, sleeping in small burnt-out stone houses or inside the canvas tent. Malagant had finally decided that the stronghold would be the place for him to take the serum. Opting out of doing it in the inn only a few days away, since he was afraid of making too much noise.

  This stronghold was a quarter league from the road and surrounded by a thick of woods and bush, with a swollen river down a ravine a hundred feet further on. They would be able to have a fire tonight, with plenty of water to refill their skins and refresh the horses.

  The horses had been reliable through the storm but the lightning was spooking them. At least there was a crumbling stable connected to the structure. It was falling apart and had saplings growing inside it, but like the stronghold it had a good roof and would do for the evening. There were even sticks of firewood tucked into the stable. Old and half-chewed by animals but sufficient for the night. They would gather it after they tended to the horses, which they planned to blind with cloth to keep them calm through the lightning storm.