Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  The man nudged her with his elbow. “Watch this.” He ran off toward the fray, his sword waving in the air.

  He jumped on the back of one of the wolves, forcing the man away from his comrades. They fell to ground. The braided man pushed off the ground, rolling away into an open area.

  The wolf elbowed him in the stomach. The man grunted, then leapt to his feet, the blow not affecting him at all. He brandished his sword, sticking it into the wolf’s heart. With a sucking sound, he withdrew it, along with a gush of blood. The wolf’s eyes widened as he stumbled backward. He opened his mouth to scream, but instead of a cry for help more blood spurted from his lips. His knees buckled. His sword dropped to the ground. His body crumpled in a heap on the dirt.

  The braided man picked up the wolf’s sword in his left hand. With a flourish, he spun them from side to side in a blur of steel and vital fluids. “Got to clean the blood off,” he yelled to Tressa. After a quick wink, he chose another victim.

  Tressa decided she’d waited long enough. She walked the circle, looking for the right victim. The man with the braid wasn’t it. Despite herself, she liked him. If she had to fight alongside someone, she’d choose him just as quickly as she’d choose Leo.

  Twenty left. No, nineteen. It was shocking to her how quickly they fell. Exhaustion was setting in. She knew that as well. Her arms ached. Her legs burned like they were on fire. Her palms were covered in blisters, most of them already swollen and broken. She’d need a lot of ointment to stave off infection in the days ahead.

  If she made it that far.

  If she survived.

  Before she could choose her next victim, someone chose her. With his sword in the air, his war cry echoed in the quiet afternoon. The crowd had gotten bigger, waiting for the time when there were only twelve left in the arena.

  Tressa planted her feet on the dirt, squatted, and braced herself for the attack. As his sword came rushing down at her, she stepped back and parried. The clang of metal on metal was followed by the screech of grinding. She knew she didn’t have the upper-body strength to force him off. Instead, she let her sword drop, then spun out of the way. He stumbled, following his sword to the ground. Tressa kicked him on the arse, forcing him all the way down. He sprawled out, his sword just out of his grasp.

  “Do it. Do it fast!” Someone yelled in the distance, urging her.

  She raised her sword in the air, then stabbed him hard in the thigh. With proper medical care, it wouldn’t kill him. “Get out of the ring.” She lowered her voice, attempting a growl.

  He nodded and reached for his sword. Tressa turned, but a whistle in the air surprised her. She jumped into a roll, using her sword arm as a bar on the ground to break the fall. She stood, her sword at the ready.

  The man on the ground had attempted to slash at her legs. Tressa slashed his other leg at the shin. There was no way he was walking now. “Save yourself and get out now.”

  “I will not leave in dishonor.” His arms flailed, losing the stamina he needed to raise his sword.

  “Then you will die a fool. It’s your choice.” Tressa spat at him, then stalked away. What would drive a man to prefer death over life? Another man ran past and skewered him in the stomach. Another senseless death.

  After a quick count to fourteen, she realized she didn’t have any time left.

  The fight was almost over. She was still alive. So were five lions, five wolves, two men of unknown origin, Tressa, and the man with the braided beard. One of the unknowns appeared weak. He stood trembling behind two of the other wolves. For all the brutality they’d shown, they were protecting the boy.

  Why was his life more important than the other wolves who’d died, especially since he wasn’t one of their own?

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Tressa stepped carefully around the group of men. The wolves and lions had already decided who had won the honor of serving in Stacia’s personal guard. They stood in a circle, their backs to each other. Normally it was a move that invited death in battle. Never leave your back to an enemy. But today that was not a concern for they’d already won in their minds.

  The man with the braided beard sidestepped over to Tressa, spinning his sword in one large hand. How could he smile at a time like this? Tressa wanted to punch in his pearly teeth. She held back. Not only was he a worthy fighter, but he could be her only ally.

  “We’ve only got to take out two.” He laughed heartily, spit flying between his lips. “Then we’re in. You and me, boy.”

  “Why not just kill me?” Tressa asked. She stayed light on her toes, fearful he might strike her at any moment. Perhaps it had all been a ruse to gain her trust so he could get closer.

  “Today isn’t your day to die.” He pointed his sword toward a lion standing on the edge of the circle. The lion thrusted his hips, making vulgar gestures to a woman in the audience. “But it is his.”

  The beads rattled, breaking the tense silence of the standoff, as her unlikely friend ran screaming toward the distracted lion. The men rallied around him, but it was too late. Her friend’s sword had already pierced his belly. He withdrew and sprinted back to Tressa.

  Two men chased after him, the tips of their swords glinting in the brilliant sunlight. Clean. Not a trace of blood. Tressa’s stomach dropped. Neither of them had made a strike or a kill all day. They were fresh. Not exhausted like her.

  “Run!” Braided man yelled at her.

  A million thoughts raced through her mind. She could run. That’s all it would take. If one of them died, she’d be in. Her goal achieved. One step closer to avenging Connor’s death. She stumbled backward, leaving him to his death.

  “Go, chouchou!” The man’s eyes were wild, light danced in them.

  A hand flew to her mouth in horror. “Leo. Gods, no. Leo!” She reached a hand out, then did the unthinkable. She ran back into the fray.

  The two men hacked and slashed at Leo. She thrust her sword into the storm of metal. Her block saved a sword from piercing Leo’s heart.

  “Go!” He yelled again.

  “No!” She begged, forgetting to disguise her voice.

  The two men looked at her, their eyes wide. “A girl?” one of them asked.

  “Great,” Leo said, rolling his eyes while blocking a half-hearted thrust from the shocked men. “Now we have to kill them both. Which one do you want?”

  Tressa’s eyes narrowed. She took a step back, then attacked. She slashed at the surprised soldier’s wrists first, one at a time, leaving gashes in her sword’s wake. Then to the neck, shoulders, and stomach. Her sword left his innards followed by sucking sound.

  The lion’s body crumpled to the ground, bloody intestines draped on his body.

  A horn sounded, echoing through the arena. “Stop!”

  She turned her attention back to Leo. He withdrew the sword from the other man’s throat. They’d killed both, but it was one too many. Now there were only eleven left. They’d violated the rules of the tournament.

  “You! Kill him!” The order came from the dais at the head of the arena. Stacia stood strong, one long black fingernail pointed at Tressa.

  “He’s dead.” Leo yelled it for her, saving Tressa from revealing herself again. “I had to,” he whispered to Tressa out the side of his mouth, “or he would have revealed your secret.”

  “No.” Stacia laughed, a sound more unpleasant than the blood spurting from the lion’s throat on the ground in front of them. “Him.” Her fingernail moved to Leo. “You, boy, kill him.”

  Tressa gaped at her. Kill Leo?

  “The men of the Black Guard do not kill each other. He has broken the law. The man next to you is a traitor. Run him through.”

  Leo raised his sword to Tressa. “You have to do it. If you don’t, she’ll order you killed too.”

  “I can’t.” Tressa fought to stay steady. She’d only just made her first kill without another thought. She didn’t feel any pride, just shame. That man hadn’t hurt Connor. He’d only been an obstacle i
n her way to Stacia. Somewhere he might have a wife and children. People who loved him.

  She couldn’t even contemplate killing Leo to avenge Connor.

  Tressa dropped her sword on the ground at Leo’s feet. She shook her head. With her arms crossed across her chest, she stood in defiance of Stacia’s order.

  Murmurs rose from the crowds that were quickly gathering. Word must have spread that the end was near. Despite the heat of the afternoon, a thin veil of sweat dripped over Tressa’s face.

  “I won’t fight an unarmed solider,” Leo yelled to Stacia. “It’s dishonorable.”

  “It was dishonorable when you struck down a solider after the twelve had been reached.” Stacia yelled. “You will die and you will die by his hand.” She pointed again at Tressa.

  “She’ll have us both killed,” Leo said. “You have to save yourself.”

  “No.” Tressa spoke through gritted teeth. “I won’t.”

  Leo lunged at her and Tressa jumped to the side.

  “Only one of you will join my guard. Decide it between the two of you. If the boy is too much of a coward to kill the man, then I’ll take the man. You have until the sun hits the top of the building behind me. If one of you isn’t dead by then, I’ll have both of you run through.”

  “Pick up your sword.” Leo swung at Tressa, missing her by only a hair’s breadth. He missed on purpose. They both knew it.

  Tressa circled him, her hands in the air. “No. Find another way for us to get out of this. You’re clever like that.”

  “There isn’t another way. This is your path, Tressa. Time to walk it.”

  “No.”

  He slashed at her again, this time leaving a bloody line on her face. Her hand covered the wound. It was all part of the game. He’d done this to her before. Pushed her. Challenged her.

  That day she failed.

  Today she would fail as well.

  She wouldn’t kill him.

  Leo slipped his toes under the hilt of Tressa’s sword and flipped it into the air. Tressa refused to reach out for it. But Leo didn’t let it hit dirt again. He caught it in his left hand.

  He sprang forward. Leo stood close to her now. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek.

  “Fight or we both die. I won’t kill you.”

  “Nor I you.”

  “We cannot defeat all of them at once. This is the end of the show, Tressa.” Leo dropped his sword, only holding hers in his left hand. His right disappeared into his doublet.

  Leo turned his back to the dais. The crowd roared with bloodlust, urging them to kill each other. There wasn’t a favorite. They didn’t care. All that mattered was completing the Black Guard.

  Tressa pushed against him, but Leo was too strong. He always was. No matter what maneuver he taught her, she’d never been able to defeat him.

  Leo always got exactly what he wanted.

  Warmth spread over Tressa’s hands. She looked down. Blood trailed down the shaft of a dagger, the hilt resting against her stomach. She followed it to its tip, then gasped.

  Leo smiled, blood pooling at the corners of his lips.

  “You were my greatest student. Don’t take any of this for granted. Avenge me.”

  Leo staggered backward, the dagger protruding from his stomach.

  Tressa stood, shaking so hard and so fast no one could see the extent of her shock. Her sword lay on the ground at her feet.

  Another of Stacia’s wicked laughs poured over the arena. The final horn sounded again. “We have only ten, but ten of the most brave and cunning men to ever compete! Congratulations to the new members of the Black Guard!”

  Riotous applause rippled through the crowd. Mugs of beer clanged against one another. Swords rattled. Men cheered. Women catcalled, offering to cap their day off with a romp.

  Tressa stood alone in the center. Leo at her feet. She wanted nothing more than to fall to him. Cradle him in her arms.

  But she could not. The other men left standing surrounded her, leading her away. Taking her to the next step of her journey. One she truly now walked alone.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Naked.

  Cold.

  Hot.

  Fever.

  Endless shivering.

  Connor’s eyes opened. Not much. Only a slit. Enough to take in the dank murkiness of his cell. Like before, he heard water drip. Plink. Plink. Plink. An endless maddening sound.

  No one visited him.

  Not since the night, or day, he wasn’t sure, when he awakened.

  When she’d looked into his eyes and convinced him she loved him.

  After she’d taken him, the grate fell and he was trapped in this prison. At first he’d railed against the metal rods. Screamed until his throat grew raw and his voice left him. Hunger pierced his belly, like a knife twisting inside him.

  Every morning he woke refreshed. As if he’d been healed in his sleep. His muscles were more defined. His appetite sated. His throat moist.

  The cycle repeated itself. Though he never knew for sure what was morning and what was night. He slept when tired. He fought when rested. There was nothing else to be done until she came back.

  “How are you, my pet?” She sauntered into view outside his prison.

  “Let me out.” If he demanded it, surely she would let him go.

  Her laughter, echoing in the vast cave, told him he wouldn’t get what he wished.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I needed a new mate. The others were less than worthy. I killed them.” She reached in between the bars, a black fingernail tracing the contour of his cheek. “You were happy to oblige before, remember?”

  He remembered too well. It haunted him in his dreams. Lust and anger locked in a battle. She had won and he hated himself for enjoying it.

  “I have something for you, my love.” She set a bag on the ground. “It’s something we made together.”

  Curious, he waited while she pulled something hard and round from the bag.

  “What is it?” he asked, overcome with wonder. It shimmered in the faint light of the cave. A hard and knotty gray shell covered with blue specks. Connor reached through the bars to touch it.

  Heat traveled from his fingers up his arm.

  “I brought it here to you because I love you. Because I knew it would keep you warm.” She glanced at his naked body and his obvious arousal. “Do you miss me?”

  “Every day. Let me out. Please.” He did miss her. He hated her. He wanted her. More than anything, he was desperate to recall a memory from before he’d woken up in the cave. Down there, trapped and alone, his memory was nothing more than an empty void.

  She chuckled. “I can’t do that. But if you want me, I think that can be arranged.”

  The bars dissipated, metal vanishing into mist. The woman stepped into his waiting arms, covering his lips with hers and teasing her tongue into his mouth. Something deep within told him to push her away, but her hands convinced him otherwise.

  They made love again and again until he fell asleep.

  When he awoke, the bars were reinstated.

  The strange object sat not far away. He lay next to it, feeling the heat emanating from inside. She was right. It would provide him warmth and comfort.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Tressa grew used to poor hygiene. The men of the Black Guard bathed together only once a week. She avoided it, claiming her religion prevented her from baring her body in front of the other men. Leo coached her ahead of time on this, knowing it would be an issue.

  Leo.

  Another innocent lost. So much death. So much grief. Thinking of him always threatened to bring tears to her eyes. But she couldn’t allow herself to cry in front of the other men. Not even for a moment. She was one of the elite now.

  The only other one who remained behind from the weekly soak was the boy. The one they protected during the battle. He won a spot without drawing blood. Not his, nor another’s.

  The boy slept all the
time. At first Tressa thought he was only avoiding her. That was until his unbearable snoring began. She tossed a pillow over her head, but it didn’t muffle the grinding noise. Instead of listening to him, she ventured outside.

  Tressa followed the shouts of the men bathing in the pond. Leo had told her to learn as much as she could about each of them. Where they came from. Where their loyalties lie. Even within the ten, there would be factions. If Tressa ever needed help or escape, it wouldn’t hurt for her to find out which was most sympathetic.

  If any.

  Leo cautioned her not to trust any of their words and very little of what she saw. Men didn’t fight to protect Stacia because they loved her. They did it to protect their families, gain favor, or advance their own secret motives. Her mother had commanded respect and loyalty. Stacia’s reign inspired treachery.

  She encouraged it, allowing the Black Guard to exact revenge on people who wronged their families. Being a member gave them power to rule the villages they came from. Stacia kept them well fed, strong, and an unending stream of women sashayed through their apartments, willing to fulfill their every sexual desire. In return, the Black Guard gave her their loyalty.

  A loyalty that hadn’t ever been tested. No one dared defy her. Yet Leo wasn’t so sure it was due to fear or lack of interest. Stacia’s political power was tempered. No one invaded. The Drowned Country sat on the coast. Hutton’s Bridge blocked them from the road to the north. Few diplomats from the other realms ever traversed the forest asking for an audience with her.

  No, Leo had told her, Stacia’s rule was solid, but unchallenged. She had no allies beyond the fog. While Tressa had viewed her village’s plight as a personal struggle, Leo taught her that it affected the entire land of the dragonlords. Hutton’s Bridge cut off the Drowned Country, leaving them to fend for themselves.

  A stray boat from The Sands would meander into port once in a while. Trade wasn’t heavy anymore, though. They survived off of their own wits.