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

by Quil Carter

  After what seemed like an eternity of waiting in the frenzied storm. The two of them were surprised to see Teal open the door with ease. He swung it open for them, and they quickly rushed inside.

  “Don’t get comfortable,” Teal said grimly. “We have some work to do before we can settle in.”

  Ben could see what he was talking about right away. The door had not been stuck, it had been barred from the inside.

  Ben looked around and the grimness took him as well. What he saw told its own story. The first floor had been completely gutted by flames. The stone was scorched black, though there were streaks of light stone where rain had seeped through and dripped down. Around them, ashes of furniture and cloth could be seen, and a few sticks burnt to charcoal, probably from a dining chair or table.

  “I suppose we’re not lucky enough that this was a chimney fire?” Ben asked. Malagant shook his head no, and pointed to a darkened corner of the cold burnt room.

  A fireplace with a large hearth was tucked into the windowless corner, also scorched to black. Inside it, Ben was gutted to see, was the small skeleton of a child.

  “The little wretch must have tried to get as far from the flames as it could. The little thing looks huddled.”

  Indeed it did. Ben found himself taking a few steps forward. The only sound in the room was his boots crunching against the charcoal and the storm they had left behind. The skeleton did look like it was holding itself, however its bones were so old and burned it was hard to tell.

  “There are two more skeletons upstairs and one more in the corner by the door,” Teal said. “My guess is they were trying to keep someone out, so the elves outside took a flame to the stronghold.”

  Malagant nodded. “Doused the inside with something combustible. Possibly used ironflare.”

  “How can they set stone aflame?” Ben asked. Silly question, in Alcove there was always a way.

  “Ironflare is a technique. They make a hollow arrow and fill it with a combustible liquid, like cehlerin or embacha. They light the arrows, then shoot the arrows into the windows or any small openings. When they hit, they explode and spray everywhere. They probably shot them down the chimney as well afterwards. Perhaps the child didn’t suffer then.”

  “Let’s just… get out of here,” Ben said nervously. He couldn’t stop looking at the poor elfling.

  “No, darkness is already settling and the horses need rest. We’ll move the remains outside and give them a water burial, say a few nice words. These remains are at least a year old. This is perhaps good, it means no one else has been here since. It’s safer.”

  Ben’s mouth twitched at this but he said nothing; Malagant always had an odd way to put a positive twist on things.

  His friends started getting out canvas sacks from Teal’s pack, which he assumed were for the bones.

  Teal handing him a bag. “Is the upstairs as charred?” Ben asked.

  Teal shook his head. “There is a large bedroom that isn’t; it has a fireplace. We’ll camp in there if the chimney still works. If not, we’ll have to brave the burned areas.” He started roughly picking up the bones in the far corner of the room. Ben felt Teal was doing this a bit without care, but then again, what really was he expecting? A ceremony and silk gloves? It was his old world feelings that were making him feel that way.

  Needless to say, Ben decided to be the one to pick up the bones of the child. He at least wanted to give the little thing the respect it deserved. He bent down and said a few words in his head, and slowly picked up the tiny, twig-thin bones. They were dusty and brittle, charred and crumbling, with shreds of clothing stuck to its frame.

  After they had followed the sound of the swollen river behind the stronghold and gave the bones a respectable watery grave, they ascended the stairs to the small room Teal had mentioned and got to work unpacking.

  It took up about half of the top floor, and as Teal had promised, it wasn’t scorched. The furniture was sparse however: only a single bed with mouldy hay and a rat-eaten blanket, a wooden dresser made from knotted wood and a few tables. The chimney was good at least, and after Malagant had re-barred the front door and barred the door to the bedroom, they settled in.

  Ben warmed his hands by the fire, which had already heated up the windowless room. Tsivia had been a gods’ send tonight; the wood had been dampened from the storm and only smouldered when it was lit. With a dusting of the fire hottner the flames had turned a brilliant pale orange and emanated heat like they were burning aged fir.

  Now with the fire tended and their damp clothes steaming and sizzling on the mantle above it, they all sat on the hearth, warming themselves and eating their dinner. A filling meal tonight to celebrate being indoors: half a pheasant Teal had caught the previous day, some dried meat and cheese sandwiches fried in butter, courtesy of Ben; and a thickened stew of the pheasant carcass with some turnip, potato, and carrots added.

  Afterwards, with a full stomach and a glass of Satcha’s ambiar root tea, Ben and Teal watched as Malagant started preparing a corner of the room for his inevitable dose of Kova’s Seeve. The hay in the mattress had been burned with the blanket, leaving just bedposts holding up a wooden plank. Malagant had already laid his sleeping mat down and a blanket, and was now securing ropes on the bedposts.

  “Anything we should do during?” Teal asked. He had been looking over the Anean Prophecies to see if there had been any new writing. It was surely taking its time updating considering they’d already journeyed to Rhastt with Lord Firemane.

  “No, not really, just make sure I don’t bite my tongue,” Malagant said, yanking on the binds to make sure they were firm.

  “Still no updates?” Ben asked, putting his finger on the old book and pressing down so he could see the pages.

  Teal shook his head. “No, once again the prophecies are not working like they should. We should have had new writing once we left Rhastt, but still nothing. I thought the demigod directing us to this new book meant it would work normally now. I guess not.”

  “My father will be able to give us some insight,” Malagant said. “Unless the demigod wants to tell us.” He looked up at the thatch ceiling and raised his voice. “Come show yourself, demigod. You told us to get this prophecy book from the Lelan library, that means you’re supposed to be making it work properly.”

  Ben chuckled. “We know we’re going to Lazarius, that’s good enough for now, isn’t it?”

  Malagant shook his head. “It isn’t just a map to where we’re supposed to go. It should be warning us of future problems or giving us riddles to solve. Dad says he and Cruz used to spend weeks trying to solve the riddles and poems. One of which ended up warning them of an invasion from the Evercovian mages that was about to take place near the very canyon we’re going towards. But what do we have?” Malagant shot a glare at the prophecy book. “A faint command to travel with Lord Gorat and a scrawl telling is our position won’t be revealed. I don’t like it – I really want Dad’s opinion before we go any farther with this.”

  Over the last week, or more specifically since Aurelle had been shot, Malagant’s opinion regarding the demigod had diminished. During their nights around the fireplace Malagant, more often than not, would go on mini tangents about how unimpressed he was with their guidance.

  And he would know more than Teal or Ben did. Malagant had grown up hearing stories about Anagin’s adventures being a prophecy walker. Anagin knew how the Anean Prophecies worked and how much the book helped them when they could crack the riddles.

  And here the three of them were with a book barely writing and three pendants that they hardly knew how to use.

  This had made Malagant Ahris just a little bitter.

  “Maybe the lack of guidance means we’re on the right track and we’re doing everything right?” Teal suggested. “And we don’t have anything to look out for?”

  “Not likely,” Malagant murmured. “The demigod is probably in an alter house getting his deity dick serviced by male whores. He�
�s forgotten all about us.”

  “MALAGANT!” Teal exclaimed. “And you say I was the blasphemous one?”

  Ben decided to ignore Teal’s exasperation and press Malagant for more information about his father. “How often did Kelakheva appear to your dad?”

  “From what Dad said, he was right involved at times. Interfering even. I expected more from him.” Malagant walked over and took Ben’s cup and drank a bit of his ambiar tea. “A lot more. I just don’t understand it. I wish this was clearer, everything is just making me uneasy the further into this we get.”

  “We definitely need to talk to Anagin,” Teal said, his face became dark and troubled. “You grew up on these stories and what did I get? I didn’t even know I was supposed to be a part of a future prophecy. I didn’t even know my father was a part of the last one. I got a spank from my mother every time I asked Father about his past – or why we were on the run.”

  “Keiryn hated Anagin,” Malagant said, his tone low. He then paused as if regretting what he just said.

  “I can see that… but why? They were best friends during the war – why did Mother hate that Father had such a good friend?”

  Ben watched as Malagant’s lips pressed. He was quiet as he popped the cork on Kova’s seeve though he seemed to sense that Teal was staring at him intensely.

  Ben was curious as well. Cruz and Anagin’s name went together like wine and cheese. Whenever Malagant talked about his father’s stories Cruz was always mentioned right along with him.

  But apparently after the war… it sounded like the two friends had a falling out. They married and had children and seemed to have never seen each other again. But why? And why did Keiryn hate Anagin?

  “You – you’ll have to ask Anagin, Teal. It’s not my place to tell you.” And with that Malagant swallowed the vial and grimaced, before giving a hard shudder. “I never knew metal could taste rotten, but there it is.”

  Teal bit down on his lips but he stayed quiet; the unanswered questions could almost be seen flooding the poor hibrid’s mind. If Ben was curious about the falling out between Anagin and Cruz he could only imagine how much it must be ravaging Teal’s hyperactive imagination.

  The wooden bed creaked as Malagant laid down on his sleeping mat. He held up a hand. “Tie me up, Ben.”

  Ben snorted back a laugh. “Oh, I know this game.” Teal burst into flustered giggles behind him.

  Malagant looked at Ben, confused, then looked to Teal. “Game?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, Teal?” Ben grinned. Teal was red faced, still holding the Anean Prophecies. He nodded, his hand rising to his mouth as if trying to stop his friends from seeing how embarrassed he was at Ben’s suggestive words.

  “Oh, I watched your television,” Teal giggled. “Perhaps we should get the horse whip from the stables?”

  “Naughty little hibrid!” Ben said as he tied up Malagant’s hand, the poor elf still looked lost. “Do you even have things like that here?”

  “I lived in the woods all my life, you’ll have to ask Malagant,” Teal said, still grinning. But when he looked at Malagant the smile faded. “Oh, look at him. It’s already starting to hit him. Are you okay, Mel?”

  Ben secured Malagant’s hand and looked closer at his friend; Malagant’s eyes had become unfocused.

  “My body’s really starting to hurt,” Malagant whispered.

  “Just tell us if there is anything we can do to help,” Ben said. He looked over at Teal’s backpack and passingly wondered if he should offer Malagant some desoni.

  “No.” Malagant shook his head and wrapped his free arm tight around his chest. “It will pass. I can just feel it moving through my entire body. It’s really cold – it’s eerie.”

  “Do you want us to keep talking to you, or do you want us to be quiet?” Ben asked. At the same time Teal rose and picked up a small wooden bucket they had brought in from outside, and placed it beside Malagant’s bed.

  “This is in case you need to throw up, buddy,” Teal said, patting Malagant on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, Tee,” Malagant mumbled. “You can keep talking – tell me earth things, Ben.”

  Ben thought for a second. “Well, have I ever told you about potato chips?”

  “Oh, oh, I love potato chips,” Teal said excitedly. “When I found potato chips, I swear I ate ten bags of it before I brought you back, Ben.”

  “What? Like wood chips?” Malagant opened one eye. Ben smiled happy to see he had caught Malagant’s attention.

  “No, not at all.” Ben smiled. He sat down on the old wooden table Teal had pulled up for them. “We can even make them here! You have cooking oil here, don’t you?”

  Malagant nodded. His free hand clenched his chest as he struggled to take a few deep breaths. They were shaky and laboured; Ben could see that his friend was in a great deal of pain.

  “All you do is take some potatoes and cut them very thin, and deep fry them in hot oil, then you sprinkle them with salt and eat them. That’s called potato chips.”

  Malagant’s face tensed in pain. He shifted down until he was laying on his back, then, with a moan, wiped his forehead with his hand. “That sounds good.” His voice was a raspy whisper now.

  Teal rose and wetted a cloth in their bucket of cold water. He walked over to Malagant and started dabbing the sweat that was beading down his forehead. Malagant whimpered and gave him a pathetic look, his mouth moving as he uttered strings of swear words; several of them earth ones he’d picked up from Ben.

  “Poor boy, he’s burning up badly,” Teal said wetting the cloth again. “At least this water is near freezing. We’ll keep it cold on his forehead, that’ll help.”

  Ben nodded and got up, as he grabbed the bucket of water he picked up the Anean Prophecies too.

  “Here, we can read you a story, Mel. What’s a good one, Teal?”

  “The Stillborn God is a good one,” Teal said thinking for a moment. “It’s also known as The Creation of Kelakheva.”

  “Bugger deity,” Malagant muttered, his unfocused eyes squinting. He clenched his teeth and gave off a loud moan before swearing again.

  “I’d like to hear that. I never thought about how Kelakheva came into being. I thought he had always been here. Were the other sons created too?”

  Teal nodded. He handed Ben the cold cloth and took the prophecies from him. They switched places, Ben sat beside Malagant keeping the cold cloth on his forehead, and Teal sat down at the table with the book.

  “I told you a bit about it when we first met,” Teal said. “Schrael, as he was once known, was created after the other sons, when the humans were ready to receive their god. You see when Anea created elves, humans, and demi-elves, it was just him alone. The sons were created once a species was diverse enough to warrant their own god and kingdom. For example, when the elves set sail and reached Kar’Endia and settled, Anea created Karilis and sent him to live with his worshippers. Thousands of years later, when the Darcovians were settled and thriving in what would be Darancove. He created Daran. Daran came to live with them, and while he lived with them the demi-elves developed their fins and all of that, and the regular elves developed their differences as well.”

  “So the gods helped them evolve?”

  Teal nodded. “In a way. It was environmental that’s for sure, but the god had a hand in it. The god would come to where they had settled as a blank slate to be written. The elves or demi-elves themselves were also very blank. They grew together, the elves taught their god, and the god taught his worshippers. It was a beautiful relationship and a golden age in Elron.”

  “Did that happen with the hibrids too? Since our god is the Elder God, wasn’t he already there?”

  “No one wanted you,” a weak voice sounded from beside Ben. Malagant, drenched in sweat with his teeth chattering, gave them a small weakened smile.

  “Still awake enough to crack jokes.” Teal rolled his eyes, but Ben took that moment to re-wet Malagant’s cloth and he started
wiping the sweat from his face.

  “The hibrid will come after,” Teal said. “What happened first though, was the humans branched off. There were many of them and they took up a good amount of Alcove. When they were ready to receive their god, and this was after all the other gods had been created and were living with their worshippers, Anea created a son named Schrael and sent him to live with the humans.”

  Teal looked down at the Anean Prophecies and started to read. “So many winters did pass, wars fought and won. Mighty Houses and powerful kings rose and crumbled into dust. Droughts happened as did times of plenty, and as Elron carried on the last son of Anea did dwell with his worshippers and none heard of him. The seeds of the Elder God grew strong and their worshippers quickened in their lands, and kingdoms were raised with brilliant banners whose colours did not bleed. Stronger still, seeds became thick trees to stand tall by the Father of Elron, the blessed creator. Still none heard of the last son, Schrael, God of the humans.”

  Ben didn’t like where this was going, but he let Teal continue without interruption.

  “And so, when five thousand years had passed, when the seeds of Anea became strong under his love, the Elder God descended from Cilandil. The grass blossoming flowers of pale blue and red under his feet, winter turning to the most tempered of summer with his first exhale…”

  Teal turned a page. “It goes on praising him for about a page… here we go.”

  Malagant gave another groan through clenched teeth, his black hair was now damp from his sweat and pressed up against his forehead and neck. “Keep reading, it’s distracting,” he managed to say.

  “A cry that broke the heart of every creature that drew breath, emanated from his holy lips. For Anea’s son was a ruin, nothing but a crumpled heap laying hidden away in a cave. His moaning echoing, however none heeded his desperate sobs. Skin stretched on bone, blond hair hung loosely, and eyes that were now a pale grey, almost white, from the darkness. It was a horrible sight to behold. The humans had rejected their god, shunned him, called him a demenos of Shol and banished him from their kingdom. Broken spirited and lost, did the god take shelter in a cave and over the thousands of years he sat and moaned.”