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

by Quil Carter

  When the barrier’s blue glow disappeared and only a slight shimmer could be seen, Nyte walked up to Erick and Sweeny and roughly pressed his hands on their foreheads.

  Out of reflex Erick tried to move away, but then a jolt of strange static flared from of Nyte’s touch to his forehead. It was the same sensation one got when a limb fell asleep or when you set it down the wrong way and it hit a nerve.

  Erick’s eyes rolled back into his head, for a moment everything turned a steely-grey colour, before his vision and thoughts returned. Nyte removed his hand and the one that had been resting on Sweeny’s forehead as well.

  “Xalis and Darsheive, nor any other mage will be able to read you now. Your minds are locked; only I have the key.”

  Erick rubbed his head, trying to free his brain from the fuzzy static.

  “Your brain was a pin cushion, Erick Zahn. They had you stuck and strung-up like a puppet. Until I found out just what was going on every thought you had was theirs to see and hear.”

  This thought, of course, sat badly in his stomach. He had a lot of personal thoughts he’d rather no one know about – who didn’t? “They don’t know we suspect them?”

  Nyte shook his head. “No, they do not even know that I’m here. They continue to think I left after you were alerted of my failure and that is how it will stay. They’ll put me to death. I am the strongest Kessiik in all of Elron and they know my power.”

  “Why are you doing this then? You’re powerful enough to brainwash elves, surely you have a better future with them and their plans?”

  Nyte slammed the false prophecies onto Erick’s table, so loudly the sound echoed off of the blue barriers. “There are more important things than the gods’ games, Erick Zahn!” he snapped. “I thought the twins sought the jewel to rejoin their kingdoms after Anea separated the two, which would be terrible as it is. But tell me, King of Alcove, what do you suspect will happen to the entire world if an insane, full-powered god gets a hold of it? With all that could control him locked out and ignorant to what’s happened? A god with no worshippers, no loyalty, and thousands of years to fester hatred for the living?”

  Erick was silent.

  “What is worse than having the gods locked out?” Nyte said to him.

  “Having three insane ones locked in,” Erick whispered back.

  Nyte walked to Erick’s bookshelf and pulled out a red tome with gold trim. It was an ordinary book; Erick had forgotten what was inside it.

  Erick watched as Nyte put the book down on the table before opening it. The smell of dust and age coming from the ancient pages. The kessiik put his hand on the first page and started lightly running his hand over the paper. Strangely, his left hand was resting on top of the false prophecies.

  Then Erick realized what he was doing.

  “You’re… copying the ramblings?”

  Nyte gave him a single short nod. “You’re going to need proof. They won’t believe you otherwise.”

  Sweeny was beside him, making small choking noises. Erick looked at his squire, and felt an uncharacteristic surge of empathy for him. Sweeny’s green eyes were wide with fear, the rings on his fingers making a clinking noise as his hands shook. His brown and red-streaked hair was brushed back though small strands were falling over his forehead, which was rimmed with sweat.

  “Nyte… it is the king’s orders for you to bring me back to my world, Sweeny as well.” The words burned Erick’s throat as he said them. “This… this is not my fight. It never was. I suggest you come along as well, and save yourself.”

  Nyte’s eyes were shards of ice; Erick cowered under his cold and infuriating gaze. Years, years of being worshipped as a god himself. Years of brainwashed council members and treasoner of Calin bowing to him. Telling him the stars shone for him, the mountains trembled under his voice. Years of being held on a pedestal and he was now reduced to a shivering mess under the cold glare of a kessiik mage. His once faithful servant.

  And to further drive in Erick’s humiliation… he was unable to keep Nyte’s gaze. The first time he had faltered since placing the twisted black crown onto his head.

  “I am a useless human, Nyte. What good are we? What can I do? Rule Alcove until the Stillborn gets the jewel? Then what after? Wait for death? If he is kind enough to give it to me? If I was an insane god I would torture us for a while first,” Erick said. “There is no use for me here.”

  “You’re a coward, Erick Zahn.” Nyte’s voice was cutting, another slash to join the dozens of cuts that had been made to Erick’s pride. Clean cuts, he had bled out long ago, there was nothing more to him but a hollow shell of the king he had once been foolish enough to believe he was.

  “I never said I wasn’t,” Erick replied soberly. “It was you and the twins who told me I was something else.”

  Nyte closed the tome, then, with a push of maegic, a silver belt with a black onyx clasp appeared on the book, locking it shut. “I would have thought better from you, considering the rest of your family,” he said back.

  Despite the low state he was in, Erick found himself snorting. “Well, sorry to disappoint you. If it’s any consolation before I was dragged to a world of mad gods and prophecies, I was just as big of a coward and a screw up.”

  Nyte rested the crimson tome on top of the table. “Your brother has not even watched the seasons pass once, and he’s already surpassed you in every way.”

  Nyte looked to his side and watched Erick’s face change and change did it ever. The former human that was Erick Zahn stared at Nyte with a blank expression on his face, before his jaw dropped. Then, as he continued to stare at Nyte, seemingly waiting for a punch line that he was slowly realizing wasn’t coming, he raised a clawed hand and put it over his mouth.

  “Ben’s… here?” Erick managed to sputter. He stumbled forward and put his hands on the table in front of him to keep himself from falling. His eyes looked around the room as if thinking it held the answers to the questions ravaging his mind, before they fell on Nyte’s placid face.

  “Not just here, Erick,” Nyte replied. “Ben Zahn is the sapphire pendant carrier and a friend of the hibrid who had the jewel before it split. He travels to find King Calin, on a fool’s mission to return the jewel to him. Or that is what their folly prophecies tell them.”

  The weight of this information crushed Erick and, just in time for Sweeny to put a chair underneath him, he fell backwards. Erick buried his face into his hands; an anemic moan could be heard. “Why?” he said weakly. “H-how?”

  “I saw it in his companion’s head, the hibrid who originally had the jewel and the one I was able to parasite, thanks to Tseer Amaus. I saw your old world through his eyes. I saw your brother and his life previous. I can only assume Kelakheva brought him here but for all I know it was Schrael.”

  “I was hoping you would know,” Erick said faintly. “Neither of these prophecies are here to help us stop Xalis, Darsheive, and Schrael, are they? Not even my brother’s? They’re leading us by the nose so we’re exactly where Schrael wants us to be.”

  Nyte fell silent for a moment, before he nodded. “That is what I fear.”

  Erick dug his fingers into his scalp, his mind split in many directions at once.

  Ben was in Alcove, his younger brother was in Alcove and not only that… Ben was in grave danger, following a false prophecy book that could very well be leading them to his death.

  Unable to focus his eyes on anything, Erick stared down at the marble swirls of the table his elbows were resting on. He didn’t know whether he was going to throw up or fall into insanity so deep it would reduce him into a mad elf.

  Not only did he have Ben to worry about… the only elves in all of Elron who knew what was really going on with this prophecy were him, the kessiik, and a timid squire. The weight of the world he had come to love and call home… was sitting on his shoulders. A world that could possibly end the moment Schrael, the mad former god of the humans, touched the jewel.

  Erick had come to Alc
ove and he had burned it and destroyed it until the Hold Lords, the highborns, the court of King Calin, submitted to him. He had killed, he had dominated, he had dictated… and now he wanted nothing more than to save his home.

  “You usurping the throne seems so… futile now,” Nyte said quietly. “Odd how it all seems such a small and insignificant act compared to what I have uncovered.”

  Erick finally found the strength to rise. He walked over to the burning fireplace and tried to warm his hands against the mageflames, though he found the fire did little to quell the tremors ripping through his body like an electrical current.

  Even with his mind spinning in all directions, he found himself focused on one question. A question he felt he needed to ask before he tackled this seemingly impossible task.

  “Is… is Ben okay?” Erick whispered.

  Ben was in Alcove; his little brother was in Alcove.

  Erick pulled his brother’s face from his memories. His small collection of memories from before he had been brought here. Short black hair, a thin, unhealthily hollow face like his, and the same eyes that always had blackened circles, or the appearance of them. Ben’s eyes had been dark green, his had been too before his Dashavian blood had turned them red.

  Erick thought for a moment as to what Ben had been turned into, then remembered the second hibrid that had been mentioned. It had been three of them: the one who was given the jewel, the second hibrid, and the ex-Serpent knight.

  Ben was the second hibrid.

  Erick’s emotions gave a jolt. Ben was a prophecy walker, on his own mission to try and save Alcove, or he thought he was. His drug-addicted brother, who beat on him, humiliated him for kicks, talked down to him.

  Who had been everything Erick had wanted to be…

  Who always folded and let him sleep on his couch when he needed it, who always slipped him money when he was running dry, or had people after him. Who protected him with the ‘the only one who can beat my brother is me’ mentality. Who Erick took care of when they were in foster care.

  “When I was parasiting the hibrid, he was doing well,” Nyte replied. “Adapting quickly under the guidance of the emerald pendant carrier and the ruby pendant carrier.”

  “They don’t know anything?”

  “No.”

  Erick wiped his brow and turned from the flames; he looked down at the crimson tome. He could see the same shimmering distortion on the lock that the chambers had, the book was under magical protection.

  “I suspect the twins do not know what they are about to unleash,” Nyte said soberly. “They are just as much of a pawn as you. I think Schrael is promising one of the only things they crave: to unify their races and their kingdoms as they once were before Anea separated them.”

  “Why did Anea separate them?” Erick asked.

  “Tens of thousands of years before, Xalis and Darsheive lived together and their races of elves and demi-elves did as well. It is said that one day Anea found them in bed together and was enraged. Apparently, though the gods approve and encourage same gender relationships and even triad or quadra relationships… it seems Anea has a line he draws with his twin sons being in a physical relationship. The Holy Anea decided the twins were too close with each other and not only separated them, he separated their races and split their kingdom into two. Xal’Crith was created and pushed out far into the eastern ocean and Dashavia remained in Al’Anea. I suspect Schrael has promised them they can use the jewel to be together and rejoin their races,” Nyte explained. “They’re helping each other but Xalis and Darsheive are fools to trust a mad god.”

  “But, they’re gods… you say they’re fools but – but they’re older than us, wiser than us. Don’t they know what they’re doing?” Sweeny said, his voice small and mousy. He was cowering in between Erick’s chair and a bookshelf, looking terrified and lost.

  “Young gods,” Nyte corrected. “As blasphemous as it may be, they are naive and stupid. They know not the consequences of their actions, which is why Anea kept them close and summoned them to him shortly after leaving Elron.”

  “The prophecies write them as mighty, all-knowing, holy beings…”

  “And who writes the prophecy’s stories? Tell me, Sweeny Taunel. Where is the truth in a book written by elves trying to curry the gods’ favour and receive blessing? How much blessing will be received if you write that the sons of Anea are manipulating, selfish, naive children forever seeking toys to entertain themselves with?”

  Sweeny was silent; he only cowered down further.

  Nyte’s violet eyes found Erick’s, his gaze was once again glaring. He grabbed Erick’s hand and laid it against the red book. “We need to find Ben. We need to tell the prophecy walkers what is going on. They must know Xalis and Darsheive are in Elron. They must know they mean to restore the Stillborn God. And, most importantly: they need to know they’re marching to their deaths.”

  Erick stared down at his hand before slowly nodding. “I’ll do whatever we have to do. I won’t let that false book kill Ben, and I won’t let the twins give the Stillborn that jewel.”

  There was a heavy knock on the door. Erick looked to the doors then down at his squire.

  “Sweeny, tell them I am not to be disturbed.”

  There was shifting around him as Sweeny tried to un-wedge himself from his safe spot behind Erick’s chair. What it was with hibrids wedging themselves into small places when they were scared was beyond Erick’s understanding.

  “No, it’s Keleon,” Nyte said, with a flash the barriers were dropped and he walked to the door and opened it.

  “Priest Nyte, you return? Wonderful,” Keleon’s strong confident voice rang throughout the room. It seemed like an explosion going off with how much it broke the deafening tension that had been a permanent fixture since they’d come back. “I request audience with the king. Is he free?”

  “I am.” Erick quickly straightened his robes, then he realized he still had his heavy wool cloak on. He flung it off of him but Keleon was already in the room.

  The Grand Master gave Erick a confused look before jolting slightly at the sound of the door slamming shut behind him. Nyte stood in front of it, and moments later the shimmering barriers returned.

  Keleon looked around, alarmed. He reached to his side and put his hand on the gold pommel of his blade. “My king, is the kessiik holding you against your will?”

  “No, stand down,” Erick said. His eyes found Nyte’s. He gave him a questionable look, at a loss as to why Nyte had let Keleon see him – and Erick himself for that matter.

  Keleon’s hand still urged towards the sword strapped to his side. He took a step away from Nyte, an untrusting glint in his eyes, and shifted his position.

  Then, remembering himself and why he was here, Keleon cleared his throat and spoke, “Your Grace, I wanted to inform you that Philrick has been prepared for you. He awaits you in Midin’s tower as requested.”

  Philrick? Philrick?? The last thing on his mind right now was the fat Lord of Azoria; he couldn’t care less for Philrick. Kill him, brainwash him, replace him, do what you will.

  The weight of the world was growing heavier on Erick’s shoulders. His mind numbed under the realizations of what Nyte had found in the twin gods’ chambers. Though harder still, he knew he was only grasping just wisps of the enormity of what they had uncovered. He thought that Xalis and Darsheive being in Elron was bad enough… but them wanting the jewel was child’s play compared to what their plan had really been.

  “Keep him there, I will deal with him later… you may leave.” Erick waved a weary hand and made a motion to turn around, when Nyte’s eyes caught his.

  “My king… we need him.”

  Everyone turned to the priest, an intimidating sight as he stood indomitable in front of the door.

  With cold, almost calculated eyes, he looked Keleon up and down and nodded as if confirming something to himself. “Yes, he will be the one. The fire reflects his eyes, his mind is a snare but I can prep
are him once he leaves the chambers. He is mentally strong enough that the twins will not be able to access his mind.”

  “Why… why do we need him?” Erick stammered.

  The Grand Master remained stoic of face and unyielding, although there was a twinkle of curiosity mixed in with the confusion.

  Nyte looked at him and narrowed his eyes with a slight nod.

  “Because your replacement, my apprentice kessiik Nikken, is going to need his guidance.”

  40

  Ben clutched his rumbling stomach. He hadn’t eaten in days, and with the sickness he could feel in him and his battered body, he needed to keep up his strength. The plains were empty though, the canyon had long since disappeared into the rolling hills behind him. There was no food, no matter how much his stomach churned in anger.

  He bent down and picked up a handful of grass and stuffed it into his mouth. It wasn’t going to do anything, but chewing on something helped his mental state.

  Better than nothing. Ben shrugged and carried on, chewing on the grass like a borsow on her cud. He smiled at the thought, green blades sticking out of his mouth. It was hard to chew; even his mouth was dry and parched.

  He didn’t know how long he had walked that day, but soon it was getting dark and Ben was tired. The emerald hills that separated Valewind and Azoria all seemed to blend into each other making it near impossible to judge the distance he had travelled that day. But at least he couldn’t see the canyon anymore; he was making good time considering his sickness and the throbbing stab wound on his back. It had been a full day since he had decided to leave the canyon and make his way to Birch. Even though Ben wasn’t sure how far he was off-course, eventually he would find someone to give him directions.

  When he started to trip over the rocks in front of him, he knew it was time to rest. He found a cluster of trees and managed to harvest a few dead branches for a fire. Ben made a flame and lit the sticks. They sizzled and snapped from the slightly damp wood but it was good enough. Ben knew it wasn’t smart to make a fire this out in the open, the plains offered no protection like the forest did, but being alone had made him less concerned about encountering other elves. He was willing to take the chance with newcomers. He needed a friendly face and a good meal; he would risk encountering elves with ill intent.