Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  Beyond the strawberry patch was an even larger spread of juniper berries. Never give to a woman with child, she remembered her mother once saying. Unless she requests it.

  She stopped eating and stared at the bluish-green berries hidden amongst the fir branches that skimmed the ground. In her healing training, she had helped two women miscarry and Amber still remembered the violent sickness that resulted. Sickness didn’t scare her as much as recapture.

  Covering herself in leaves and the little bits of ground cover that she could find, Amber curled up on her side facing away from the tempting juniper. Her heart still pounded, keeping her exhausted mind awake. She thought again about her escape and how simple it had been. Too simple. Sarissa and the bearded beast left her alone in the cottage. The guard had fallen asleep outside of her cell. No one stopped her.

  She’d even grabbed proper clothing, footwear, and a pack of food before escaping. It was all too convenient and Amber knew they had let her go. But why? Every night for at least two months she’d asked herself the same question. They chased her, herded her, and yet never captured her. Amber wondered if Sarissa was that poor of a tracker to be unable to find a pregnant Rygent in a sea of trees.

  Amber ran her hand along her belly. She had hoped the non-stop running and starvation would have killed the creature inside her. The great lord, Rygous, refused to grant that prayer. She had even pleaded for her own death, yet she had been unable to swallow the plants necessary to end her own life. On days like these, she wondered why she even ran.

  Eventually, her luck would end. They would catch her. Sarissa would cut her open, watching Amber die as the witch captured her soul’s energy. Sarissa would become even more powerful.

  Panic gripped her. Cold sweat broke out over her body as images flashed in her mind of being sliced open while still alive. Her heart pounded, drowning out the sound of the rustling leaves.

  Not now, she begged. Please, Rygous, help me.

  The soothing balm of the Divine seeped through her skin. She knew her god had touched her from the beyond, as warm comfort spread through her body. A yawn escaped her. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, Amber drifted into the dream world, one filled with love and safety.

  * * * * *

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Sarissa sang out over her shoulder. The hot summer wrapped its loving arms around her. “Oh, how I have missed the heat!”

  Scowling, Robert pulled his horse alongside hers, sweat beading on his forehead and beard. “This is madness. Complete and utter madness.”

  “You’re no fun,” she said with an exaggerated pout. “Why won’t you let me have my games?”

  “Your games are giving me saddle sores.” Robert pointed to a small patch of trees and brush ahead of them. “She’s in the trees. I’d suggest we just go in there and grab her, but that would be foolish talk.”

  Sarissa flashed him a wide, toothy grin. “Of course we aren’t going to capture her. Silly man.”

  She laughed at Robert’s annoyed grunt. They had been playing the cat-and-mouse game with Amber, pushing her closer to elven lands, closer to the Temple. Closer to the Magic texts, which Sarissa knew the monks had hidden in the twisted underground tunnels below the holy building.

  The girl didn’t even know what was happening. That was the sweetest part of it all.

  Sarissa’s connection to Amber’s unborn child grew stronger each day and she now communicated regularly with it through dreams. It was still too feeble to have any true thoughts of its own yet, but she could relay thoughts and wishes to it. Those feelings passed on to the mother. Amber’s bid to save her own skin allowed Sarissa to unlock the spell necessary for the advanced Magic. Perhaps she would thank Amber the next time they met.

  “We need to pretend that thirty people on horseback can’t catch a half-naked child with a fat belly?”

  “She isn’t far enough along to be fat yet. Don’ t you know anything?” Sarissa smiled at Robert, watching the wind tousle his black hair.

  “I know you’re a crazy bitch.”

  Sarissa feigned an injured look. “I think you need to loosen up. You should cut your hair, too. You look like a wild man.”

  He sneered. “You were less crazy when you were crazy.”

  That made her chuckle. She had been liberated from the bitter hatred that had consumed her for decades. In its place, she found ambition and it was a glorious feeling.

  She eyed the forest ahead of them. Most of the rolling hills around them were covered in sparse groves of trees, with occasional patches of farmland carved out of them. The area where Amber had retreated from the main path was a thick, mangled mess of forest, left alone by the tiny hamlet that existed nearby. Sarissa made note to avoid the town. They weren’t in elven territory yet, but they were out of the slave nation territories. These elf-friendly places didn’t take kindly to Magic. She’d hate to end up beheaded and nailed to a crossroads signpost.

  Robert grumbled something about her not paying attention. She rolled her eyes and said, “You need a good roll with a plump whore.”

  Robert eyed her wearily. “I’d sooner cut my own dick off.”

  “That would save me the trouble of doing it for you,” she said, still smiling. “Raping Amber was a necessity. Whoring around with pox-ridden wenches was not. “Pull your men close to the river, and then circle back. We can make camp west of here. I don’t want to push her more today. She might lose the child.”

  Robert frowned but nodded. “Circle back. Scare the kid. Let her get away. Again.”

  She shot him an annoyed look.

  He raised a hand in surrender. “We’ll do it.”

  Sarissa tugged her horse’s reins to turn around and headed back to their encampment, leaving Robert and his five riders to cause trouble in the trees. She turned to the west until she saw the campfire smoke dancing in the wind. It had not been easy convincing the villagers to follow her through human territory. But the price of success was so great—godhood itself.

  * * * * *

  Bethany gave up staring at the reports in front of her. It was useless. Whoever spread the prophecies around and gave the Magic texts to Edmund had disappeared. After two months of extensive searching, they still had nothing. Every letter in front of her said the same thing. He was long gone.

  “More letters just arrived, Bethany,” Arrago said, stepping into her study. He flipped through the sachet and pulled two out, before handing the bag over. She noticed those two were addressed to Jovan, not her.

  She accepted it from him and smiled, a gesture he returned. Since her fight with Jovan and the near loss of control over her Power, she had been careful around Arrago. His short hair, northern accent, and good teeth all still appealed to her, as did the way her name rolled off his tongue. Her feelings for him had not changed and she knew enough about men to know that he still watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. But she had erected walls around feelings and filled in the gaps with mortar.

  He prattled on about…she wasn’t quite sure. She was busy flipping through the sealed letters, guessing their authors by the handwriting. No doubt more bad news. At least Torius had condemned the prophecies as a madman’s rants and the people seemed mostly convinced. There was comfort in that. The great arrow of doom had been avoided. The clergy rejoiced, as did she. “Can you imagine? Three copper!”

  As Arrago spoke, she found her head tipping slightly, watching his whole body quiver and wondering how he’d look without clothes. He’d grown broader, more muscular after two months of intense training. His tunics were just a little too snug around his shoulders and biceps, his trousers just a breath too tight around the thighs.

  She gave her thoughts a mental shake. By elven standards, she was far too young to become involved with anyone that wasn’t arranged for her. She certainly could never get permission to marry Arrago, allowing her to break her chastity vows. She would never tumble with Arrago outside of a sanctioned union. She wasn’t Jovan, after all, who had humped m
ost of the Honored Sisters in the temple.

  She sighed, once again concluding that friendship was all she could hope for.

  “Of course, I had to sleep with Jovan to get the money,” he said, leaning against her desk. “But at least he’s pretty.”

  Bethany blinked. “Huh?”

  He wagged his finger at her. “I knew you weren’t listening. I won the temple betting pool!”

  “Sorry,” she said, laughing and feeling a bit foolish. “Which one? I have money in sixty.”

  “Seventy-one, actually. I keep track for you,” Arrago said. “I won the prestigious ‘Lady Champion’s Aide’ pool. I had placed my own bet of three copper that I would last two months and seven days. And here we are and I am neither dead nor dismissed. Since mine was the only qualifying bet left, I won the entire pot. Literally, I even won the cast iron pot they’d put the money in!”

  “Three whole copper? I pay you more than that.” Bethany chuckled.

  “Yes, but that was before I’d received any wages. I did Edmund’s laundry for a week to get that out of him.” When she didn’t reply, he threw his hands up. “Don’t you want to know how much I made?”

  “Oh, of course.” She put the letters back on her desk and looked him in the eye. “How much?”

  A wide grin spread across his face. “One hundred, eighty-seven gold, nineteen silver, and four hundred and seventeen copper.”

  “What!” She exclaimed. Fear gripped her. Arrago’s winnings were enough to live comfortably, if frugally, in Orchard Park for the rest of his life. He could rent a small room, eat at the vendors, wear basic clothes, and never have to work again. He could leave her. Who’d help with the paperwork? What would make her smile?

  Bethany, calm yourself. She narrowed her eyes at him. “That was all part of your plan, huh? Get kicked out of training, become my aide, then get filthy rich off your own pool. People wonder why I don’t trust humans.”

  Arrago beamed. “I’m rich. Less poor, at least.”

  “So what now?” She struggled to be light hearted. “Are you going to leave me to retire to a small cottage and a family of eight that you bought with your winnings?”

  He ran a hand through his brown hair, a contemplative expression on his face. His tone grew serious. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  Bethany sat up straight. Her heart thumped loudly. “You can’t leave me. I actually rely on you. You can’t go.”

  “If I left, you’d have to do your job.” A short laugh escaped his lips before he grew sober. “I’ll never leave you, Bethany. You have my word.”

  Heat surged through her and she turned away, hoping to hide the flush on her face. Her hands shook. “Well played, Arrago.”

  Arrago laughed. “Bethany, you should have seen your face. I was sure you were going to vomit on your desk.”

  “Heartless ass,” she mumbled.

  He kept laughing. “I would like to treat you to a meal in town, though. Can you sneak away for a few hours?”

  She nodded. An afternoon out with Arrago might be just the thing to clear her mind. “I need to have my bracers repaired anyway, so I can drop it off on our way. Would you mind waiting while I get it?”

  “I’m a wealthy man. I can wait,” he winked.

  “You’re still not as wealthy as me,” she said laughing, stacking her letters in a neat pile.

  Arrago shrugged and followed her out of the study. “I dare say I’m not as wealthy as any elf. You and your gold mines and that sharing of wealth.” He motioned to his desk. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  As Bethany walked out, she caught a glimpse of his lingering gaze in the hazy mirror that hung next to the door. She allowed him a morsel of dignity and didn’t look back. In friendship, she was safe to enjoy being a woman. It was a new experience for her and she was grateful for the boundaries.

  She weaved her way through the busy corridors. Lavender incense assaulted her as she neared the prayer rooms. Thankfully, she ducked past the open doors; Aneese had the annoying habit of stopping prayers to call out for Bethany to join in. The Honored Sisters never did seem to understand that Bethany had more important things to do than pray to her own mother.

  Bethany sprinted up the several flights of stairs to her apartment. She hoped that they would visit the vendors by the seaport, which made the best elven food. Arrago could get a dead chicken and she could munch on nutty pastries.

  Today, her guards were young, regular soldiers. At her request, Erem cycled those with potential to one day become apprenticed knights through guard detail. With tightened temple security, even Allric felt the risk was minimal.

  The only problem was that she never knew any of their names.

  Bethany sprinted up the several sets of stairs to her own room. Excitement fluttered in her stomach. Arrago asked her out for an afternoon of fun.

  That smell.

  Bethany halted near the top of the stairs. She turned to the guard nearest her. “Do you smell that?”

  The teenaged human shook his head.

  “It smells like…” Her voice died. She knew that smell. Bethany took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. Her jaw slacked.

  Death.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Viper will not rest until the Diamond bathes in the blood of the innocent.

  —Aleu’s Agony of the Diamond

  Bethany stared at the draining corpses littering her corridor. She tuned out the retching sound behind her. Vomiting was a part of soldiering. At least they were fresh kills; the flies and rats hadn’t arrived.

  “Get help,” Bethany ordered in a low voice.

  One of them bolted down the stairs. Bethany doubted a herd of cattle would have been louder. Soft footsteps behind her told her that the two other guards were behind her. Bethany bent down to retrieve a bloody sword from the floor. As long as the Magic threat existed, never again would she be weaponless inside the temple, or anywhere else. She chided herself for her complacency. She had joked about assassins coming to get her. Never again.

  Her breath hitched in her throat as noticing for the first time that the bodies had been sliced open in an exact pattern; throat to groin, with a diamond carved into the skin that once covered the heart area.

  Bethany motioned at the doors on either side of the corridor. Cautiously, the three of them peered into each room. Despite being unprepared with only two children as help, Bethany hoped it was a group of bumbling thugs and not just one. One meant a powerful, well-trained individual. She was barely armed.

  Bethany pushed a partially closed door open with her sword, swallowing back the bile that burned in her throat. She knew the names of all these people. Some of them had been her neighbors for decades. Here they were, eviscerated.

  Just like Garran.

  She blinked and cleared her mind, reminding herself that she needed her wits.

  Fight now, mourn later.

  “I can’t do this,” the shaking voice next to her squawked. “I don’t want to die like this.”

  Bethany glared at him. “Steady, soldier.”

  The boy, perhaps only fourteen or fifteen, dropped his sword and ran. Bethany swallowed. She couldn’t call after him. So, she lowered herself down, retrieved the dropped weapon, and grabbed the arm of her remaining guard.

  The girl trembled.

  “Name?” Bethany mouthed to the guard next to her, trying to keep her mind off the death and stench around her. Eleven years had passed since she last stood ankle-deep in bodies. She waited for the shock to wear off so that her heart would stop galloping.

  “Rose,” the girl whispered. “Are we g-g-going to die?”

  “No.”

  Bethany motioned at her apartment door. With her fingers, she counted down from three. When her thumb displayed “one” as the last digit, Bethany kicked the door open.

  Inside, a tall, fat man she didn’t recognize sat on her blood-soaked bed, fingering one of her Blessed Blades.

  Unwilling to take her eyes off
of the man to assess the room for others, she stared at him and tightened her grip on the flimsy sword in her hand. She felt Rose’s breath on her neck, so she took a slow step forward, leaving enough room for the young woman to flank her.

  “Lady Bethany? Is it you?” The man stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the floor and furniture. “Oh, blessed be the Magics that brought you here.”

  It was not the response she had expected. “Who are you?”

  He squared his shoulders as a look of confusion spread across his face. “I’m Joseph Layson. I’m the man you’ve been looking for. You know? Prophecy revealer, follower of the righteous and all-powerful Sarissa, killer of all of the people in the corridor, perhaps even the killer of Lady Champion Bethany, so on and so forth. It hurts me that you don’t know who I am.”

  She was without a Blessed Blade and he no doubt practiced Magic. To her right stood a terrified, but brave, child. She needed to keep her wits. This Joseph would die soon enough. He seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice. Let him prattle away the seconds until help arrived.

  “Sarissa was right. You are terse,” he said as he swung her sword in the air, its jeweled hilt glistening in the morning sun. “I realize how badly you must want to kill me and I already know that you will defeat me —”

  “I agree,” Bethany snapped.

  He smiled as he stepped closer. His gaze stopped and he pointed. Bethany had to lean ahead to see what he was doing. She sucked in a lungful of air. A pool of blood. A small child’s limp frame.

  “Butcher,” she growled. Next to her, Rose gasped and shivered so hard that her mail tinkled.

  Bethany expected the girl to run, but Rose stood firm. She drew the comfort and resolve. Rose needed some of her strength. She’d show it.