Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  The flap of their tent shook in the wind, and Gregane turned and jammed his sword through the fabric, pinning it to the ground.

  “The ground is flat,” he said, returning to the table. “You’re certain of this?”

  “As I can be two years after being there.”

  The two men were alone in the tent, by Sir Gregane’s orders. In that privacy, with a man who had once been his squire, he could finally discuss and strategize without fear. Too many were vying for favor in Sebastian’s eyes, under the assumption that once Arthur’s lands were conquered, a new lord would need appointing to rule. Some were already trying to sabotage his command, or cause greater casualties and delays than there might be otherwise when defeating the renegade brother. It seemed Gregane was the only one who understood Sebastian would appoint no one but himself to rule all of the North.

  “What do you truly think?” Gregane asked.

  Nicholls shrugged and pointed at the map.

  “It’ll be difficult for our cavalry to maneuver, depending on where we meet. And they might have ambushes planned, hence why they’ve chosen the area.”

  “At least it’s far from any town,” Gregane said, still staring at the map as if he might bore a hole through and see into Arthur’s mind. The lord had sent a rider, alerting Gregane and his commanders that Arthur sought to meet on a field of battle, in the area known to the locals as the Green Gulch. Gregane had promised an answer the following day, and then sent out scouts to check the terrain. It would be at least a day or two before he heard back from them, and the knight found his patience wearing thin as the night waned.

  “I’d have preferred it if we had chosen the location,” Nicholls admitted. “But assuming Arthur holds to his word, we couldn’t have hoped for better ground to fight. It’d take months to starve him out of his caves, if at all given how many damn hidden paths and vaults he’s dug into it.”

  Gregane nodded. When he’d marched out, granted command by Lord Sebastian, he’d expected to be heading toward a lengthy siege. With his five thousand men, a tenth of them mounted cavalry, he’d figured Arthur would use his castle to make up for his vastly inferior numbers. Such a plan, while sure to be an eventual victory for Gregane, posed far greater danger than open combat. The plain folk were, without a doubt, supporting and aiding Arthur. The longer the brothers’ conflict lasted, the worse it’d get for Sebastian.

  “If it comes down to the Green Gulch, a potential siege, or a fight at a river crossing, I’ll take the flat ground,” said Gregane.

  Nicholls rolled up the map and stored it in a chest of Gregane’s things.

  “What of the scouts?” he asked.

  “Learn what we can from them, but unless they discover battlements and trenches already built, we’ll not break our word.”

  “Will Arthur renege? This could be a ploy.”

  Gregane shook his head.

  “I’ve served the Hemman family since long before Arthos’s death. I know Arthur. He’s honorable, and will do what he thinks is right. He would never renege upon an agreed battle.”

  “What of his rebellion against Sebastian? I assume he thinks it is right, too?”

  Gregane sighed, and he yanked his sword free and gestured for Nicholls to leave.

  “Careful with your thoughts,” he said. “That road leads to danger. We serve the lord of the North, and right now, that rightful lord is Sebastian Hemman. All else matters not.”

  “Of course,” Nicholls said, saluting. When he was gone, Gregane scowled. His anger toward Nicholls was misplaced, and he knew it. The younger knight had only voiced a gnawing doubt that he himself had been trying to ignore. Arthur, the older brother, was the one who should have ruled, if not for forsaking his claim. Arthur, the one who ruled all aspects of his life with honor, and patience …

  He slammed his fist atop the table, banishing such treasonous thoughts. Sebastian was lord. That was that. Gregane couldn’t toss a bag of coins to beggars, then demand it back the following year. It was foolish, and neither could Arthur try for similar. Such threats to the North’s stability needed to be ended, and quickly. His duty wasn’t to like it, only do it. Come battle, he would defeat Arthur, and bring him bound to the Yellow Castle for his lord to decree his fate.

  A cold wind blew, and he shivered. The tent flap rustled, and he turned thinking it only the wind. Instead, a man in black robes stood before him, his pale face smiling and his eyes alive with fire. Gregane reached for his sword, but stopped when the man said a single word.

  “Halt.”

  Despite his struggle, Gregane could not move. It was as if a hundred invisible chains had latched to his body. He stared at the intruder, feeling anger and panic swelling in his chest. His heart pounded, the sound thunderous in his ears.

  “I mean you no harm,” said the man in black. “And I stop you not out of fear or malice, but to prevent you from doing something you might regret. If you remain calm, I will release you.”

  Unsure how to answer, Gregane stared at the man and did his best to show that he was under control. Apparently it worked, for the intruder waved his hand, and the chains were gone.

  “Who are you?” he asked, crossing his arms to fight against the impulse to draw his blade.

  “I am Velixar, voice of the Lion, prophet to our glorious god Karak. I come offering counsel, and my aid.”

  “I have enough men whispering in my ears.”

  “Yes, but I offer no whispers, and most important of all, my voice speaks truth.”

  Gregane swallowed. Truth, he thought. He highly doubted it. Still, if this was a holy man of Karak, he had to tread carefully. Sebastian’s loyalty to their deity was well known throughout the North.

  “Then tell me what you wish to say, and I will take it into consideration.”

  “Consideration?” Velixar chuckled, though Gregane could not begin to guess the reason for his amusement. “When men with wisdom speak, you should listen, and obey, my dear knight. Not pretend. Not take it into consideration.”

  Gregane found himself entranced by the prophet’s face. At first he’d thought he imagined it, but he realized the man’s features were slowly shifting, as if his face were a liquid in constant, miniscule motion. His blood ran cold as he wondered just what really lay behind that mask.

  “As you say,” Gregane said, trying to play it safe. “Then speak, and I will listen.”

  “Much better. I have seen many battles, Sir …?”

  “Gregane.”

  “Sir Gregane. I’ve seen many, and started more. I know the minds of men, the simple strategies they employ. Let me stay at your side, and I will help you crush Arthur’s rebellion. The North’s worship of Karak must not be disrupted in any way.”

  Gregane thought of that priest standing beside him come the battle, and he knew any orders he gave would not be suggestions. Once more he felt another clawing at the prestige that was to be rightfully his. And staring into those red eyes, he knew within lurked a man who would laugh at the very notion of honorable combat.

  “We go to meet Arthur’s men,” he said. “We have agreed to a place, and will arrive within a few day’s march. Would you accompany us, or wait for our arrival?”

  It was a gamble, he knew, but he had a feeling such a man would not casually walk among the living. His very presence seemed counter to daylight.

  “I will await you there,” the priest said, his smile growing. “Show me where.”

  Gregane knelt before his chest, opened it, and pulled out his map. Carefully he unrolled it upon the lone table of his tent, placing weights on all four corners to keep it open. With every bit of his self control, he willed himself to believe with absolute certainty the lie he spoke.

  “Here,” he said, pointing to a place labeled Deer Valley, several miles east of the Green Gulch.

  “A valley?” Velixar asked.

  “We will leave them nowhere to run, and our horsemen will run rampant through their lines.”

  The prophet nodded in
approval.

  “My faithful and I will await you there, my good knight. Your cooperation will never be forgotten, I promise.”

  The promise felt just as much threat, but Gregane kept his face composed, the rigid gaze of a commander. Velixar stepped out from the tent. Once he was gone, Gregane collapsed to his knees, tore off his armor, and called out for one of his servants to bring him a very, very full pitcher of wine.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jerico rode into Lord Arthur’s camp with his head held high, as beside him Kaide busily counted and made estimations. Finding the army had taken little questioning, considering every farmer and trader seemed to know of its location. As they neared, they’d encountered villages Arthur’s men had passed through, accepting gifts of food and supplies. From there, they’d found the army with ease. Kaide’s group had been stopped at the outer edges of the camp, but the guards were aware of their coming, and let them pass.

  “I hate the way they look at us,” Bellok said, guiding his horse between Jerico and Kaide. “Like filthy rabble.”

  “Are you saying we’re not?” Kaide said, but he didn’t smile at his own joke, instead too busy glancing about at the tents.

  “Nervous to meet Arthur again?” Bellok asked.

  “Or have your men embarrass you?” Jerico added, glancing back to the farmers, thieves, and bandits that formed their diminutive group. Most seemed intimidated by the armored soldiers that watched them trot toward the center of the camp, marked by Arthur’s enormous tent atop a cluster of hills.

  “No,” Kaide said, frowning. “I count only a thousand, maybe fifteen-hundred. I hoped for more.”

  “More might come,” Bellok said, but he sounded like he doubted it.

  At the commander’s tent, they halted and dismounted. A soldier guarding the entrance motioned to a field in the far distance.

  “We’ve prepared a place for your … group,” said the man.

  “That’s a damn long walk,” Kaide said.

  “We have some food to spare, and the land is flat. Do you have a problem?”

  Jerico and Kaide exchanged looks.

  “So be it,” Kaide said. “Bellok, spread the order, then join us inside.”

  As they went to enter, the guard refused to move. Instead he pointed to the mace, shield, and dirks the two wore.

  “Your weapons,” he said.

  Another look between them.

  “No,” they said in unison.

  The guard didn’t seem flustered in the slightest.

  “Surrender, or no audience.”

  The tent flap opened, and Lord Arthur stepped out long enough to gesture them inside, as well as whisper a word to the guard. The guard shot them an annoyed glare, but held his tongue. A fire built in the center of the tent made the interior feel warm and welcoming, the smoke escaping through a hole in the very top where the poles came together. A table was on one side, adorned with maps and sheets of parchment detailing numbers and supplies. On the other side was Arthur’s bed. The lord walked over to the table and sat in the only chair.

  “I must thank you,” Arthur said, leaning back. “Given how quickly I prepared my forces, I feared I would have no choice but to take from the villagers we passed to keep my men fed. Instead, I find myself given more than my fattest soldier can eat. Never did I think the hearts of the people had abandoned my brother so.”

  “The hearts of most can be bought with coin,” Kaide said. “And I’ve spent every day since Ashvale buying hearts using Sebastian’s own gold.”

  Arthur let out a bitter chuckle.

  “I see. I pray you never turn on me, Kaide. It could be disastrous for us both.”

  “When will your entire force be assembled?” Jerico asked, trying to bring the conversation to the tasks at hand.

  “When? It already is, paladin. Are you disappointed?”

  Jerico was unsure of what to say, so Kaide said it for him.

  “Yes. We are. What challenge will we be to Sebastian’s men with only, what, a thousand?”

  “Fourteen hundred, not counting retainers, squires, and the women lurking about waiting for night to fall. I summoned those loyal to me to fight, and now you act disappointed? I’d hoped the legendary bandit would make up for that. How many men did you bring me?”

  Kaide’s face remained passive as stone.

  “Three hundred.”

  “Three hundred?” The lord laughed. “Surely the might of the people rises up against my brother. Three hundred, armed with what? Pitchforks? Knives?”

  “Enough,” Jerico said. “What is it you plan to do, Arthur?”

  The lord gestured to the map, and the two looked over it. Its location marked with an embedded dagger, they saw his proposed site for a battle.

  “Green Gulch?” Kaide asked.

  “Sir Gregane has already sent a rider agreeing to the place. We’ll meet at midday, and fight each other on an honest field of battle.”

  Kaide looked ready to fall over.

  “Honest field of battle? We’re going to be outnumbered, and you want to march south into a scattered forest full of level ground and fight an honest battle? Would you throw this war away so easily?”

  “Men fight wars, Kaide. A skilled, proud man fighting a worthy cause can defeat ten sworn to something they do not believe. How many men have you killed with just your few?”

  “With surprise. With stealth. Abandon the designated spot, and march with all haste toward the cities. Take Murkland. Take Valewood. With them in your control, Sebastian will have to come running, and by then, we might already have a second army headed for his castle!”

  Arthur waved him off.

  “You appealed to my honor to start this war, now ask me to cast it off when you find it inconvenient? A victory here means the end of our conflict, with no villages burned, no lives lost other than fighting men sworn to such a fate. Now enough of this. You have your three hundred. What is it you would like to do with them? I can find a place among my ranks, not the front lines, of course…”

  They heard commotion from outside, and then Bellok entered, adjusting his robes.

  “It’ll do,” he said to Kaide, referring to the encampment. He turned to Lord Arthur. “Oh, and the Irons twins might have knocked one of your soldiers unconscious. Well, several of your soldiers. No one died, I promise.”

  Arthur’s eyes widened.

  “May I ask the reason?”

  Bellok bit his lip and glanced at Kaide.

  “I’d suggest not. Suffice to say, your men will not speak ill of those two again, nor their mothers, nor the animals they ride on.”

  Arthur rubbed his eyes and looked ready to dismiss them all.

  “My men,” Kaide said, bringing his attention back to the map. “I have a plan for them, though it might insult your honorable tendencies. Where will you set up your lines?”

  Arthur gestured to a small white space.

  “There runs a gap of nearly half a mile between the trees. My men will be stationed along the tree line. That should keep Sebastian’s mounted knights from running us over.”

  Kaide looked at it, and gestured for Bellok to do the same. The wizard ran a hand through his white hair, and then nodded in approval.

  “It’ll work,” he said.

  “What will?” asked Arthur.

  “I think it best you not know,” Kaide said. “I have my tricks, just as you have your noble honor. Until we reach the Gulch, we’ll march with you, but continue on when you begin setting up lines.”

  Arthur looked none too pleased with this, but he did not argue.

  “Sir Gregane is leading Sebastian’s forces,” he said. “He’s a good man, and knows how to fight. Whatever you do, prepare for it to not work as you expect. Other than that, from where we believe them camped, we’ll have about a half-day’s preparation before he arrives. Can you do what you hope to do in such short time?”

  “I could do it in less,” Bellok said, shooting the lord a grin.

  “Just
who are you, again?” Arthur asked.

  “The card I have hidden up my sleeve,” Kaide said, bowing low. “Now by your leave, I’d like to return to my men.”

  “Go.” He waved them on, but when he saw Jerico about to leave, he stopped him.

  “Yes, milord?” Jerico asked.

  “I heard plenty of opinions, but none from you. What say you to all this?”

  “I don’t know Kaide’s plan. He’s hidden it from even me. As to where you battle, the advantages are as you say, and will be better if you can dig even a single trench beforehand. How many men do you expect to fight?”

  “Four to five thousand.”

  The two stood there a moment in the quiet, and then Arthur began to chuckle.

  “I march men to their deaths, all for a cause I cannot win. That’s the truth of this, isn’t it?”

  Jerico shrugged.

  “If that is so, then why do you continue?”

  Arthur sat in his chair and leaned back, eyeing the paladin.

  “I looked into you, Jerico, to see what I could find. The Citadel … there’s a story spreading, though how it fell no one seems to agree. Your paladin friends are vanishing, and some whispers even say they are gone completely. Yet here you are, still fighting. Why is that?”

  Jerico shrugged.

  “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Aye,” Arthur said, and for once he smiled. “It is. After hiding in caves for years, it feels good to stand tall and do just that. I dare say, it is about damn time. Will you fight at my side, or will you join Kaide’s dogs lurking at the edges?”

  “I don’t even know what Kaide is doing. Until I do, I must stay with him. I think he’ll need my help more than you will. In fact, I’m certain of it. I did help train his men, after all.”

  Arthur laughed.

  “You did? How did that go?”

  “I lasted a day before I wanted to break my vows to Ashhur involving decency and murder.”

  Arthur stood, and he clasped Jerico’s hand and shook it.

  “Stand tall, and fight bravely,” he said. “Consider me honored to have known you, and have you fight against my brother, wherever you may be.”