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

by Quil Carter

  “Mel…”

  “HE PUSHED BEN OFF THE CLIFF!” Malagant suddenly cried. “I need to set the bridge on fire. We have to use it to get to the river.”

  For a fraction of a second Teal just stared at him, before he lunged towards the rope railing of the bridge, trying to jump off of it, into the river.

  Malagant grabbed onto him, before he set the end of the bridge on fire. With one hand wrapped around a now screaming and struggling Teal, he brought them both down to the planks of the bridge. He put his arm through a space in one of the planks and tried to lock his arm around it. He didn’t know if it would work, but it was Ben’s only chance; the next bridge was a dozen leagues off.

  Tears streamed down his face as he heard Teal cry and plead with him. He closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for the bridge to break. He could see red as the flames from the bridge pressed their bright light through his eyelids, and could smell the wet wood mixed in with the nose curling stench of the burning prince.

  He held onto Teal tighter as the first rope snapped, the movement jarring Malagant so badly he almost dropped him, but somehow Malagant managed to hold on.

  It was short-lived however, moments later the second rope broke and the two became airborne.

  With his free hand Malagant clung onto Teal for dear life, holding Teal protectively against his chest; the seeve would protect him from the impact.

  Anea, please… make the seeve protect me. Kelakheva, I’m Anagin’s son, he’s Cruz’s son… protect us. Please, help us find Ben.

  They both slammed against the cliff face, Malagant letting out a cry of pain as the impact almost wrenched his shoulder out of its socket. The force alone almost made him pass out, but he exiled the pain from his body and tried to tap into the adrenaline stores he knew he must have somewhere.

  Malagant opened his eyes and looked down. Everything was dark but he could tell the bridge was still a ways away from the bottom. With the sounds of the water below he deduced that it wasn’t far enough down that they couldn’t make the jump.

  Or the fall. Malagant unlatched his arm from the plank he had been holding onto, and he and Teal both fell into the darkness.

  Teal landed on his feet, Malagant didn’t. The impact knocked the senses out of him and he lay still on the gravely ground until he felt Teal shake him.

  “No, go, I’ll be okay,” Malagant said weakly. “Just my hands, everything else is flesh wounds and blood loss. Your eyes are better than mine anyway. Go.”

  Teal put his hand on Malagant’s head and with a whimper he kissed his forehead. Then, without a word, he got up and ran into the darkness, calling for Ben as he did.

  Malagant struggled to get to his feet, but to his dread, he collapsed again. He rolled onto his stomach and put his hands out in front of him to try and force himself up. He almost gagged.

  On his right hand he was missing his pinky finger and his middle finger, on his left several of them were only attached by fragments of tendon and bone. Both hands were nothing but a mess of flesh and skin, with splinters and saw marks showing Taugis’s failed attempts to detach the others.

  Malagant could see more bone and flesh than skin now, and even the skin was coated in sticky blood.

  Dizziness swept him; he tried to push past it and raise himself but he collapsed again. He cursed himself, he cursed being weak, and tried to gather his strength.

  A cry broke his lips as he forced himself to standing. He ignored the world spinning around him and tried to put one foot in front of the other to follow Teal.

  But in the end his injuries were too great. Malagant only managed two more steps before a red haze descended on his vision like the closing curtains of a play. He stumbled, and with one final disheartened cry, passed out cold beside the rocky shore.

  THE GODS’ GAMES SERIES

  Book One

  Volume 2 of 2

  THE GODS’ GAMES

  GRAPHIC EDITION

  By Quil Carter

  © 2015 Quil Carter

  All Rights Reserved

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.

  37

  “Ben!” Teal cried. His voice was hoarse and his throat sore and scratched. He tried to look in every direction at once as he ran down the riverside. The embankments were steep in some areas and smooth in others, he didn’t know if Ben would be able to pull himself up.

  And there were sharp rocks… so many sharp rocks.

  Teal called for him again. He put his hand on his emerald pendant, not sure what help it would be, but he held it and prayed to himself. He knew Ben didn’t have his and in the far corners of his mind he was almost glad he didn’t, for the sole reason that Teal would know the consequences if Ben didn’t answer back.

  No, no I will not think of that. I will find him. I will find him.

  “Benji!?” Teal yelled, his eyes still scanning everything. He passed a large statue but he wasn’t sure who it was. It looked like it could be Lazarius over the tower, but it was too large and vast to make out properly from the bottom of the canyon.

  He had been running for over an hour now. The first spark of doubt started to burn away at his heart. He tried to push it down, concentrating on scanning every single inch of the riverbed – for anything.

  Teal’s heart fell when he heard the falls in the distance. He had kept telling himself they would be further off, but he had been running for so long… he had already reached ‘further off’.

  Ben hadn’t made it to the side of the river. Had he even survive the fall?

  Teal slowed down to a walk, a strange cold feeling overcame him.

  Ben got swept into the Throat; into the crater-like quarry below him.

  Teal walked to the edge and looked down. Even his eyes had trouble seeing the flickers of the churning waters below. Everything was black down there, like the deep cavity of a cave.

  Teal looked to his side, to the rushing waterfall beside him, silver under the setting moon. It fell into the colossal pit just out of sight. The Throat swallowing the rushing water like the mouth of a terrible gaping beast, always hungry for more.

  I could jump

  I could jump

  Would you bring me back… if I jumped?

  The snarling roar of Schrael’s Falls were heavy in his ears, drowning out all but his own thoughts. He stared down at the Throat.

  Teal was still; his toes edging the dry stone that hung over the falls. Schrael’s Throat was its full name, named for the Stillborn God. Named because the water would fall down the sharp tan and grey rocks, into a vast chasm below the pool’s surface. Several times in Alcove’s recent history, earthquakes had drained the chasm and stopped the waterfall. Elves had written of the pit seen below, where the water had eroded all the way through. The Throat was said to go all the way down to Shol, and that to fall into it was to fall into eternal black smoke. Some say when the waters no longer fed the pit, it would moan, as Schrael had done for thousands of years in the Stillborn’s Cave.

  “Ben!” Teal screamed desperately. He dropped to his knees, hanging dangerously close to the edge of the waterfall. He scanned the lake and riverside below, but there was nothing…

  Gods, there is nothing. I would know if he was dead, wouldn’t I? I would feel him leave Elron; I would feel him leave me and Malagant. Oh gods, please… Kelakheva, please. Ben… Ben, where are you?

  If I jump now, will I reach Shol? Will the demenos tell me where Ben is?

  Teal screamed his name again, his voice breaking further under the strain. He gave a frustrated cry and continued to watch the quarry for any sign of movement. Above the sink that was the Throat, Teal could see grey clouds start to block out the stars. If the gods’ were good, which they weren’t, rain wouldn’t spill from those clouds.

  Rain? It was so cold… even if
Ben did make it to the riverside, would he die soon after from exposure?

  Teal watched the clouds; they seemed to turn from pulls of foggy wisps to thick billows in front of his eyes. Another enemy. He was surrounded by enemies. The water, the darkness, the cold, the rain… he had to protect him. He wanted to jump in; he wanted the Jarron to carry him away like it had swept Ben away. He couldn’t go farther now without jumping in, and he knew if he jumped in he would drown. The rocks were smooth from erosion. He couldn’t climb them, especially in his cloak and clothes. He would be like a waterlogged fly trying to escape a bowl of soup.

  Teal’s mind seemed frozen in itself. He yelled his friend’s name again, hoping he would be able to hear a reply over the roar of the falls, but all he got back were his own echoes.

  Do I trust you would not let this be his end? I brought him here for you, demigod. I did all you asked; do I trust you wouldn’t end his story here?

  I could jump

  But as my body breaks against the rocks, and drowns inside the Throat of Schrael, as the life leaves my tormented body – would Ben greet me?

  Teal looked up at the jagged crags, leading all the way up to the plains. He felt small inside the canyon. The canyon, that stretched out like a laceration over the plains, a festering abscess, bursting with pus and all things foul.

  He was nothing but a maggot inside the wound on Alcove’s surface. A wound that swallowed and drowned whatever and whoever was foolish enough to fall into it.

  Teal walked towards the side of the canyon, half the height as where the bridge was. In that moment, he remembered Malagant, whom he left by that bridge. He could not leave his Malagant alone with his bleeding wounds, not when he didn’t know for sure Ben’s fate.

  Teal made a solemn decision in that moment that he would not jump. He would not break; he would put on another mask. He would push on, tend to Malagant and scour the river… until he found him. It was something that he did many times when he was a child. It had always seemed like he had something guarding him when his life got unbearable. A creature inside of his mind that protected him from the terrors he’d experienced.

  I nicknamed him Throateater. I remember I saw him once. He had black hair with red streaks and curled horns – he looked so much like me.

  Teal took a deep breath and searched himself for this protector. He had a feeling he would be needing this guardian to step in soon, to become the brave elf he knew he wasn’t.

  I will be brave, with your help. I will go back to Malagant and we will find Ben. I won’t be a coward – not this time.

  Teal grabbed onto a dry stone, dirty and chalky against his fingers. He pulled himself up and started to climb up the canyon ridge.

  As he climbed, he felt he was leaving his emotions behind by the waterfall. He was wearing his new mask, like he had when he’d become Tav. He could be another elf now, until he could be Teal.

  I will only be Teal, when Ben was here, he told himself, whispering it even if he was only saying it in his head. I will find you; I’ll fix Malagant’s hands… I’ll save Elron myself if I must.

  He felt so dead inside.

  Teal pulled himself up to the top of the canyon, his cut and dust-covered hands finally feeling grass and dirt. He stood and started running along the canyon’s edge. Back to Malagant.

  “Teal?” Malagant’s broken and weak voice sounded after an hour of straight running. It was still dark out; the sun would be up in an hour. Already Teal could see the pink hues form behind the hills to the east. Soon the pink would turn to red; the beams of light would hopefully cut through the grey clouds like a sword. He prayed for blue skies and a hot sun, though he knew it was a folly to pray for such a thing in winter, even with the dragon heating the ground.

  Gods, he left to confess his secret to Ben as the night was hitting and now daybreak was in an hour? How long had he been walking on the riverside for? How long had he been looking for Ben? His crying, searching, desperate screaming for Ben seemed like a blur. A distant memory, a bad dream. But he was no stranger to nightmares, even less of a stranger to living nightmares.

  “Teal? Teal, please?”

  “Come to the camp, Malagant,” Teal said, his voice so steady it surprised himself. “Can you?”

  “I think so, how far are you?”

  “An hour of running. When the sun rises, I’ll be there.”

  “Teal, are you okay?” Malagant’s weak voice was suddenly heavy with concern.

  “Yes, I’ll fix your hands.”

  He could feel Malagant’s muddled anxiety but he pushed on, running faster than he had before. He didn’t tire; it didn’t occur to him that he would get tired. Perhaps tired was something Teal would only feel.

  Throateater wouldn’t feel anything, he decided, not even fatigue.

  The sun had broken half an hour earlier when he approached the camp. He slowed down when he saw the bonfire, now smouldering and smoking in front of the fallen bridge. The smell of burnt and blood was heavy on the air with the morning dew.

  Teal felt his heart start to flutter and anxiety start to come. He tried to push it away, but he couldn’t. His stomach started to throb as he walked towards the bridge.

  As he got closer Teal was shocked to see a figure standing over the dying bonfire. For a moment he thought it was Malagant, but as he started to jog closer, he felt his blood turn to ice.

  The daraphin was crouched down, beside the fire; he was picking over the body of the disembowelled and burnt ex-Prince Taugis.

  “Sorah!” Teal snarled.

  The daraphin looked up, his ocean-coloured eyes bloodshot and terrified. He took one look at Teal and shot to his feet. His hands were clutching half-melted jewellery to his chest: rings, necklaces, even a golden dagger. All Lelan-made.

  Quickly and without a word, Sorah turned and started to run.

  A rush of anger, so overpowering he couldn’t breathe coursed through Teal. It all made sense in that moment. Somehow, Sorah had crossed paths with a fugitive Taugis. He had sold them out.

  “What did you do?” Teal screamed. As he stepped over the bodies he picked up a fallen dagger from one of the elves.

  Sorah continued to run, trying to head towards the treeline. Teal could hear a cry come from his lips as he struggled on, the Lelan jewels falling from his hands.

  It didn’t take long for Teal to catch up. He tackled the daraphin to the ground and held his knife up to his throat.

  Sorah’s breath was desperate and ragged; he cried and struggled to get away.

  “I’m sorry… he overheard me, he overheard me,” the elf sobbed. “Forgive me!”

  Teal roughly pressed his hand against Sorah’s chin and exposed his blue spotted neck. As the daraphin cried he pressed the cold blade against one of his red gills – and started to saw.

  The blood sprayed onto Teal, and even a few splashes got onto Malagant as he stood behind his friend. Sorah’s screams turned to gurgles as he watched Teal’s arms go back and forth with every move of the knife.

  He took a step back; he didn’t want to see it with his own eyes.

  When the gurgling stopped and Sorah’s head was fully detached from his body, Teal stood. When he turned around, his blank and emotionless eyes were staring forward. His face and jerkin now covered in the shining bright blood of the innkeeper’s son.

  Teal’s eyes found him. “I need moonsilk,” he said in a dead voice, before walking towards the small ravine, where their camp had been.

  Malagant tried to walk with him, but his legs were weak. He didn’t even know how he managed to make it up the bridge, the couple hours of rest perhaps. Or just sheer will.

  “Why?” Malagant asked.

  “I’m fixing your hands.”

  Did you find Ben? Teal… did you find Ben? Malagant screamed in his head. But he couldn’t ask; no, he couldn’t ask. Ben wasn’t with him, that was enough. If Teal had found Ben’s body he would never leave it.

  Ben had been human. Humans could swim well, could
n’t they? He had been stabbed in the back but the dagger was small… he could make it. He might’ve been swept leagues and leagues away but he would make it to the river bank.

  He had to…

  Malagant collapsed onto his knees again and with a clench of his stomach he threw up bile mixed with blood. He gagged again and lurched, as another stream of red erupted from his mouth.

  Then Teal was beside him. His friend lifted him up and supported him, and walked him back to their camp.

  You… you aren’t Teal. Teal would be screaming, crying, trying to throw himself off of the cliff. Malagant felt himself even more nauseous at the realization. Teal was shut down; the vacancy in his eyes as he sat him down beside the fire was confirmation. His poor little feral friend was gone; he had reached his breaking point and had disappeared inside of himself.

  Malagant watched as Teal lit the fire, and put some water on to boil. He started pulling tonics and vials out of his backpack and directing Malagant to drink different amounts of each bottle. His soft, blood-streaked face was stoic and detached. But thankfully, Malagant still saw moments of old Teal whenever he spoke directly to him.

  “I’ll stitch you up as quickly as I can, and we can follow the river. We’ll find him.”

  Malagant looked up, by now he had already been feeling the grinding shifting as Teal started setting his bones. He remembered telling him how, but his mind was so stuffed with painkillers and stamina boosters he barely remembered it.

  “We… we should go now,” Malagant mumbled. He made a move to get up, but Teal pushed on his shoulder.

  “No, you’re about to bleed to death,” Teal said quietly. “Kelakheva will watch over Ben, I know he will. The demigod will watch over him, and we won’t be long. We need to stabilize you first.”