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

by Quil Carter

  It was four elves, the ones they had seen earlier that day. They were dressed in chainmail, steel helmets, longswords, and metal-plated boots.

  All four had their helmets tucked under one arm, and though their stances were relaxed Ben still felt worried. He couldn’t see their faces though, their backs weren’t entirely to him but the angle was off, enough that he couldn’t tell if they were brainwashed or not.

  Jonquil was standing with his arms crossed; he didn’t look happy but he didn’t look threatened either. Ben wished he could at least hear what they were saying but the rain falling around them was muffling their voices.

  As Jonquil talked to the mailed elves, his blue eyes shot towards the cart and made eye contact with Ben. Immediately he looked away, but moments later he inclined his head and started walking towards the cart.

  Ben withdrew his head from the cart before the guards could see him. Jonquil appeared and reached his hands into the wagon as if pretending he was looking for something.

  “Stay hidden. Apparently five Serpents got mutilated a few leagues from here. They don’t suspect me for obvious reasons, but one of the injuries was made by a hibrid's teeth. Just get under your furs, cover your head. They’re sharing my fire tonight. Pass me the apple bag we’ve been eating out of.” Jonquil’s voice was silent but sharp, the entire time he talked he didn’t once make eye contact, he just pretending to be looking for the bag.

  Ben nodded and, without a word, pushed the sack of apples towards him, and a skin of wine. Jonquil nodded and grabbed both and disappeared from the back of the canvas tent.

  Ben inched to the back of the cart, noticing the purple flames had been extinguished, probably done when the armed elves had arrived. He leaned against the left-hand corner of the cart and drew the furs over himself and his head. In the distance he could hear the voices, a bit clearer as his ears adjusted to the pattering rain on the canvas above them, but he still couldn’t hear them clearly. He braced himself to come running out of there at any time, hands blazing, but the voices were calm.

  Ben felt himself relax a bit as he heard laughter, though fear still grabbed him. What was he supposed to do now? His escape was about to become a lot more difficult.

  At least if Jonquil was going to go weird on me again, the other elves would witness it. Should I just… see what they thought of it? Ben thought to himself.

  They should have horses nearby, maybe I should steal one.

  Now that was a possibility.

  Ben leaned against the corner of the cart, a fluff of wolf fur acting as a pillow, and tried to listen to what they were saying. He was disappointed his plans were going awry, but curious about this new development.

  And on top of that, the reason they were there tonight. Mutilated Serpents? Hibrid done? Sounded like Teal and Malagant to him. Teal did have that thing for biting elves and if they were indeed Serpents it was no denying it was probably Teal.

  Ben smirked, it felt energizing to hear about his friends. They had left the canyon then and they were heading to Birch. Did that mean they had stopped looking for him? They really did think he was dead then.

  Well, he would be in Birch soon, then he could hear all about what Teal and Malagant did to the Serpent knights. He could meet the infamous Anagin Ahris and Malagant’s brother Josiah, and just… relax.

  He could relax for a while; eat, rest, drink, buy fancy things in the shops with Korivander’s coin and try and figure out the damn prophecies.

  Ugh, the stupid prophecies. Ben didn’t even want to go to that corner of his troubles. Bringing the pendants to Garas was the last thing on his mind right now, he needed to survive this first.

  No, right now I’ll think of happier things. While Jonquil is hiding me from those weird non-Serpent guards. Guards for a town nearby perhaps? Well, at least the merchant wasn’t going to sell him out. Hopefully one look at the weak sickly little hibrid would banish any concerns that he could possibly be responsible.

  Ben’s face became troubled. Malagant’s hands had been smashed; he wouldn’t be able to take out a pack of Serpents. Did Teal do all of it? Was Malagant okay?

  Ben chewed on his lip, still hearing the muffling voices. His friends should be in Birch by now. Anagin would heal his son, Malagant was sure to be fine.

  As Ben closed his eyes, he let his mind wander. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the canvas and the muffled voices, including small bouts of laughter, was soothing. It reminded him of being on the road with his friends.

  Ben was fantasizing about his reunion with his friends for the dozenth time, when he heard the rain stop. He opened his eyes and peeked out of his furs.

  He could see the glow of the fire to the right of him, and in front, overlooking the plains, he could see silver start to break through the starless sky. The rain seemed to be letting up quickly; the patting on the canvas was lessening with every minute.

  Laughter erupted from the camp. Ben closed his eyes and tried to funnel all of his senses to his ears.

  “… stumbling blind drunk from Kormik’s Tavern. I tell him. ‘Jargo? I thought you were chedni?’ And he looks at me, with a drunken smirk and says: ‘Did you not see the tits on that one? And I just laughed–” They all paused to stifle their laughter. “–and I said ‘any elf can stuff his tunic with a rolled up shirt that don’t mean he doesn’t have a dangle ‘tween his legs!’ I swear on the flag, the bloody coidog had more whiskers than my father!”

  Ben had to bring the furs up to his mouth to stifle a laugh. In that moment he wished he was sharing the fire with the guards instead of Jonquil.

  Ben kept listening to the vulgar story, not as much out of curiosity than just wanting to hear what happened.

  Just when he was describing the guard Jargo’s reaction the next morning, they suddenly went silent. Ben could hear a faint voice, it belonged to Jonquil but it sounded like he was away from the camp.

  “We’ve spotted a group of several hibrids. Glyn and Miori are keeping an eye on them. They sent me back to fetch you two. Grab your arms, Miori has ordered you two to track them.”

  Ben couldn’t believe his ears; this wasn’t like Jonquil at all.

  He heard the sound of swords being released from their scabbards and a clang of their metal helmets. “You’re coming with us, merchant. We’ll quell the fire.”

  “You don’t think a merchant could overpower two Arasbor guards do you?”

  “Either way, grab that silver sword of yours.”

  Arasbor guards… makes sense, that town was one they had been planning on stopping in before Birch. They must be a few leagues away from it.

  Ben continued to hear rustling and some murmurs of complaints then a hiss, followed by darkness as they put the fire out. The clinking of armour became distant as Jonquil led the other two guards out of their camp.

  Then there was silence, even Gummy was being quiet. The mule must be sleeping soundly, not a care in his world.

  Ben stayed still, listening for any sounds or any sign that they were far away from the camp.

  He wanted to make a run for it now but his body seemed frozen under the furs. What if one of the guards had been left behind? What if the moment he popped his head out he was caught?

  Ben clenched his teeth. Caught? I didn’t do anything wrong…

  Still, Jonquil had wanted him to keep quiet… stay in the cart.

  Well, Jonquil might very well be crazy, perhaps this was the chance he had been waiting for.

  Ben waited a tense couple minutes, before he shifted closer to the edge of the cart. By now the rain had stopped and the moon was out, and around it a brush of stars though not as vivid as they usually were.

  Ben looked around and shuffled closer. He could feel an eerie coldness in his chest; his adrenaline was starting to flow in him.

  As he tried to swing off of the cart, his foot got trapped in a twist of fur and he fell, taking several of the sacks of apples and apple seeds down with him. Ben swore as he felt the hard seeds rain down on h
im as he slammed onto the ground.

  The sounds of spilling seeds were all around him as the bag emptied on his body. When the flow stemmed, he tried to raise himself.

  Ben rolled onto his stomach and put both of his hands out to help raise himself.

  Then he paused.

  Ben’s brow furrowed as he looked down at his hands, hundreds of little pearls were on and around him. These weren’t apple seeds at all… no, not at all. Some of them were stained brown and they all had an odd smell to them.

  As Ben shifted into a kneeling position he could hear the pattering sound as the weird objects fell off of his body and onto the ground. He was surrounded by them; he could even feel several inside of his jerkin.

  Ben picked up a handful of the odd pearls to get a better look at them.

  All at once his stomach lurched, and as the smell became stronger he gagged and dropped the handful onto the ground, then started desperately shaking them out of his jerkin.

  They were not apple seeds, nor were they pearls.

  They were teeth.

  Elven teeth, hundreds, possibly thousands of them.

  Ben jumped up and manically brushed any loose teeth away from his jerkin, shaking his head vigorously in both horror and disbelief. He could hear pinging as the loose teeth hit the cart and wheels, flying out of his hair.

  What – the – fuck?

  Ben felt nauseous; he had slept next to those bags. What were in the other ones? More teeth? The apples had been apples, he had – he had eaten the apples from them. Why? Why was Jonquil fucking collecting teeth?

  Suddenly there was a short but agonizing scream, coming from behind the rock wall they had taken shelter under. It was short and abruptly cut off, and it didn’t belong to Jonquil.

  It belonged to one of the guards.

  Ben stopped in place, his body felt flushed with ice water. He held his breath as he listened but there was nothing.

  That’s it – I’m fucking done being here.

  Ben got up and quietly ran to the campfire. He quickly looked around but to his dismay all of the weapons had been taken with them. He had his runefire though, and a few other mage spells, that would have to be good enough.

  Ben looked around. The camp was empty, but he was left with another dilemma. He had no idea which way they went. Whatever way it was he was planning on running in the opposite direction.

  Ben made the quick decision to climb over the side of the rock face; he would duck down low and see if he could find out where Jonquil was. Where he was, Ben wouldn’t be. He knew he could be quiet and his jerkin and trousers were black; he’d be able to blend into the darkness.

  Ben silently gathered his maegic and pushed it onto his boots as his merchant friend had shown him. It was dark but he could see the ripples and the silent hum of energy which told him that the charm was working.

  With tremors of fear coursing through him, Ben crouched down and walked as stealthy as he could towards the sloping hill on the side of the rock wall.

  The ground squished beneath his boots but he was silent. Ben was on all fours now, crawling through the darkness with the same stealth that he’d learned watching Teal. His best friend would be proud of him in that moment, and Ben hoped he’d get the opportunity to tell him this story.

  Ben quietly crept to the top of the rock shelf, keeping his breathing down and his eyes steadily on the top of the hill. He was almost there.

  Relief cautiously found him when he saw several jagged rocks jutting out from the top of the hill; they were stacked high against each other like a small rock tower. He could hide behind them and get a view of the grounds below. If the course was clear he could run from rock to rock until he was far enough away to trust that the night would hide him. From what Malagant had said the trees got more numerous the closer to birch they got, they would hide him.

  If he was lucky, Jonquil would be bringing the guards back and sharing the fire with them until morning. Jonquil wouldn’t notice Ben was missing until he was far away.

  As Ben climbed up the rock tower to get his view, all he could hear was his silent hiss-like breathing coming from his clenched teeth. It was when he crawled closer to the rocks that he started to hear another noise.

  The smart side of Ben wanted to turn back from where he came and make a break for northwest, where he knew the pass was, but his cautious side got the best of him. Or his curious side depending on Ben’s rationing which was all over the place in that moment. He wanted to see what was going on; he wanted to know what was around him.

  Ben felt his hands reach the rough stone of the stacks of rocks. With a deep breath to calm down the ravaging tornado inside of his chest, he started to climb the stones. The rough rocks scraped up against his leather jerkin with every step, but he wanted to flatten himself as much against the stone as he could. Anything to make him blend in with the night around him.

  Still he could hear the noise. What was it? Ben pressed himself up against the rock momentarily to listen. It almost sounded like ripping leather… rain-soaked leather.

  Ben grabbed for the last ridge and hoisted himself up to the top. The first thing he could see was the shell of the stronghold they had made a point to avoid. It was a lot like the auchtrhall they had camped in previously. No roof, and crumbling half-risen walls, stones stacked with the mortar long deteriorated to dust; and green vines and plains grass slowly taking the structure back to the dragon that slept beneath. It was three or four times bigger than the auchtrhall had been, its rooms now just a maze of half-standing walls, wild with greenery darkened in the night.

  Then Ben’s eyes found them. First drawn to the crumbling ruins, but with a flicker of movement, his hibrid eyes immediately fell to the scene halfway between the stronghold and the rocks he was hidden behind.

  It took Ben more than a few moments to register what he was looking at. And when he did, it took all of his efforts not to scream, go mad, or both.

  They were dead. The Arasbor guard were dead.

  Not just dead… mutilated. Mutilated in such horrific ways they didn’t look like elves anymore. They looked like bloated white worms you’d see on top of the ground after a heavy rain, but wetted with blood, disembowelled and hollow, their torsos nothing but cavities that were black under the moonlight.

  Then there was another flicker of movement, one of the mounds moved. Ben watched as a brush of brown hair lifted from one of the bodies.

  Jonquil raised his head, and flicked his hair back before keeling back over the elf’s twisted frame.

  Jonquil was mumbling something to himself. His bloodied fingers were pushing objects into one of the dead elves’ faces.

  And behind him, a foot of space between each one, were the other guards.

  They had been stripped down to their wool underclothes, their bodies glowing from the cold moonlight that lit every transgression going on underneath it. It illuminated the gore, Jonquil, and the darkened blood that coated the gruesome scene like a carpet.

  No, not just darkened blood…

  Ben focused his eyes on the closest guard to him. He was covered in blood which was still wet and dripping. His arms looked like they’d been sliced open from wrist to shoulder, sliced and flayed. The skin on his arm had been peeled back in ribbons like a banana peel, leaving nothing but a wet shredded pile under each flesh-exposed arm. The guard’s mouth was open in a dead scream, his eyes wide with horror. Though what horror he had seen before his death would remain his secret.

  The other two were a mass of flesh beside the first one, but before Ben could get a look at them he heard a muffled laugh coming from Jonquil.

  The crazed merchant was hunched over the elf, mumbling and talking to himself. He hadn’t seen or sensed Ben and that was good enough for him – Ben turned and with his head throbbing from the blood rushing through it, he started to climb down.

  But his hands were trembling now; he was having trouble hanging on. He could barely grip the wet rocks as he desperately tried to get off
of the makeshift rock tower.

  With his legs buckling underneath him, he jumped onto the ground. Ben froze as soon as his boots hit the wet grass and found himself closing his eyes to listen to see if he had been heard.

  There was nothing though. With a deep breath to fill tightening lungs, Ben got back down on all fours and tried to crawl away. His body was out of sync though, his hands kept trying to crawl faster than his feet and that made him stumble.

  Then with a particularly bad trip, Ben face-planted onto the ground. He cursed himself in his head and quickly got up to see which way he had to go.

  When he rose to his feet… Jonquil was right in front of him.

  Ben let out a shocked scream as he looked at the merchant.

  Jonquil’s eyes had gone black, and they had sunken into his head like pits. His face was contorted, gaunt, with his mouth too low to be natural. His neck and cheek bones had thick black veins over grey-green skin that could be seen pulsing and moving.

  “Who are you?” Ben screamed. He turned around and started running down the hill. He struggled to maintain standing as his feet slipped and stumbled under the wet grass with his huge strides. He headed towards the stronghold, not knowing where else to go.

  Ben looked behind him to see if he was being followed. As his head turned he let out a muted sob as he saw the hollow face of Jonquil right over his shoulder. He had been running, but Jonquil was still right there, staring at him, not speaking, his black dead eyes transfixed on him.

  Then Ben fell, with a startled yell he tripped over one of the bodies. He landed onto his face and inhaled sharply. The smell around him was like a slaughterhouse, mixed in with the aroma of nighttime and wet grass.

  He quickly got to his feet and took a step, only to feel his boots fall into something firm, but unstable and soft.

  Ben looked down. He had stepped into the hollow cavity of one of the guards. He had been emptied out; his organs lay out beside him like a trophy on display. Lungs by his head, kidneys by his neck…

  Ben wrenched his foot out, his chest heaving, foam smudging the corners of his mouth from his sharp breaths. He looked behind him again, expecting to see Jonquil, but he was no longer at his shoulder.