Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  The river took her closer, revealing more of the city. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of towers rose here, smaller in the outskirts and rising into great pillars in the center. Bridges ran between them, snaking like the tangled lines of fishermen. Walls surrounded the city, topped with strings of lanterns like glimmering dew upon cobwebs. More lights gleamed upon the water below the city; hundreds of boats sailed upon the river, entering and leaving the hub of light.

  Koyee trembled as she stood at the prow; whether she shook from fear or excitement, she didn’t know.

  “The city of Pahmey,” she whispered. “The jewel of the Qaelin nation. We sail toward one of the greatest cities in all of Eloria.”

  As they drew nearer, the river widened and many boats sailed around them. Some rose thrice the Lodestar’s height, windows lining their hulls, their battened sails wide and painted with silver moons; merchants sauntered upon their decks, clad in blue silks embroidered with stars, their bellies ample and their hats wide. Other boats were long and narrow and creaky; bare-chested fishermen rowed them, and fish flapped in baskets upon their decks. Some boats seemed built for pleasure; wealthy women stood upon them, their silks embroidered with dragons, their jewels alight, their faces painted white and blue.

  Koyee dipped her oar in the water and navigated around the other boats. Dozens flowed around her, lanterns swinging, and beads of light glimmered upon the water. She drew closer to the city, and its light too fell upon her. She craned her neck back and gasped.

  Pahmey was built of stone, crystal, and glass. Walls surrounded its innards, a shell of smooth, black bricks that reflected the lights like a starry sky. Hundreds of guards stood upon the walls, clad in silvery scales. Their long white hair flowed in the wind, but steel visors filigreed with runes hid their faces. Each man held a spear, its shaft bearing the banner of the Qaelin empire—a moon within a star. Iron statues—dragons, wolves, and serpents—rose between the walls’ guardians, lanterns burning in their eyes, sentinels of metal and fire.

  Behind the walls rose the towers of Pahmey. Koyee saw dozens of them, molded of crystal and glass. People moved behind their windows, their silken robes flowing. Some towers were green, others blue. The tallest among them rose from the city center, its crystal walls silver, its crest shaped like a full moon. Koyee had heard travelers speak of this place, and she gasped to see it. Here rose Minlao Palace, the palace of moonglow, the center of Pahmey’s power. Distant figures seemed to move within that crystal moon, watching the city.

  “The elders of Pahmey live up there, Eelani,” Koyee whispered, pointing at the palace. “They are very wise, and they can help us.”

  But most amazing of all, Koyee thought, were not these towers but what floated above them. Her father had told her stories of hot air balloons, but Koyee had always thought them only legends. Yet here, above Pahmey, she saw several of the flying ships. Each one seemed a hundred times larger than her boat. Patchworks of silk formed each balloon, blue and gold and white, and men stood within their baskets, gazing down upon the crystal city.

  “Pahmey,” Koyee whispered. “Look at it, Eelani. It’s a bit larger than home, isn’t it?” She smiled. “Do you think we’ll find my brother here?”

  After leaving home years ago, had Okado too found his way to this hub of light? Did he even stand upon these walls now, looking down upon her, a guard of the city? Koyee had not seen her brother since she’d been only six; if she met Okado here, would she even recognize him? She gripped the hilt of Sheytusung, the silk soft and comforting.

  The city docks stretched out ahead. Koyee steered her boat toward them, dodging junk ships large and small. The docks spread out like the branches of trees back in the dusk. Countless vessels swayed here, tethered to posts, some great ships with wide sails and lofty masts, others fishing dinghies no larger than her own. Koyee oared carefully, nearly knocking into a towering ship with three stories of portholes. She maneuvered around a buoy, past a pier bustling with fishermen, and toward a dock lined with boats.

  As Koyee rowed along, searching for a place to moor, people bustled about the docks. Some walked toward the city, bearing baskets of leather and bone, fish and clams and crabs clattering inside. A few people seemed to be merchants; they wore rich silks embroidered with silver and gold, and jewels hung around their necks. Some were buskers, playing lutes and harps or singing for coins, while others sat and begged. One boy, a scrawny little thing clad only in a loincloth, grabbed a coin from a merchant’s pocket, then dived into the water and swam away.

  “So many people, Eelani!” Koyee said. “There might be thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands. I never imagined so many people could live in one place.”

  Koyee looked down at her clothes, a simple tunic of white fur, leaving her legs and feet bare. Nobody else here wore fur; most people wore silk, the fabrics elaborate and embroidered. Koyee had never felt poorer, never felt so much the humble fisherman’s daughter from Oshy.

  One hand oaring, the other holding her katana’s hilt, she finally saw an empty place along the docks. She steered her boat near, slowed down, and let Lodestar bump against the mooring. Gingerly, she climbed out of the boat.

  As she stood on the dock, her head spun and her legs wobbled. She had spent ten hourglass days in her boat, and she almost fell. The world swayed around her, the ships bobbing and the city towers tilting. It was several moments before Koyee steadied herself, grabbed a rope, and tethered her boat to a peg. Children scampered around her, reaching for her pockets, and Koyee glared and slapped their hands away. They fled, knocking over a fisherman’s box of crabs, sending the creatures to scuttle across the docks and around Koyee’s feet.

  She hefted her belt and gave her boat a last look. She would miss the solitude of the river, the song of the water, and the tranquility of the darkness. But she had not left Oshy to sail aimlessly. Here in this great city she would find aid for her home.

  With a deep breath, her legs still wobbling, Koyee took a step away from her boat. She walked across the docks, heading toward the city.

  She stepped onto a boardwalk of cobbled flagstones. Pewter lanterns swung above her, shaped like fish with glowing eyes. Fishermen rummaged through their nets, sorting their catches into tin barrels. Koyee saw angler fish that sprouted glowing stalks, clattering isopods larger than her head, eels whose skin flashed with light, and other creatures adapted to life far from the glow of dusk. One fisherman, a mere youth, began to hawk flapping lanternfish to passersby. Soldiers, looking like fish themselves in scale armor, hustled the boy aside, shouting at him to pay for a market stall within the walls. The boy stuck out his tongue, pelted the soldiers with a dead fish, and turned to flee.

  Koyee’s head spun. She had never seen so many people—or types of seafood!—in her life. Nostrils flaring to inhale every scent, she walked across the boardwalk, heading toward the city walls.

  Towering gates rose ahead, leading from the boardwalk into Pahmey. Two towers flanked them, their indigo bricks sporting golden reliefs of moons and stars. Upon the battlements, more than a hundred feet above, stood guards in steel scales, bows in their hands, visors hiding their faces. Between these towers rose an archway; it looked tall enough for ships to sail through. A dragon mosaic gleamed upon the keystone, its scales formed of blue tiles, its eyes gleaming sapphires; here was an image of Shenlai, the fabled dragon of Qaelin, who was said to live far in the east. Beneath this coiling guardian, granite doors stood open, revealing cobbled streets lined with stone-and-glass homes.

  “These walls are tall and strong,” Koyee said to Eelani, “and many guards protect them. But if the Timandrians sweep across this land, demons of sunfire, will even this city fall?” She sighed. “I hope we never find out.”

  She walked toward the gates, resisting the urge to crane her neck back too often. If she gaped, she would reveal herself to be a foreigner, an easy target for pickpockets. Instead she breathed deeply, squared her shoulders, and tried to walk confidently across the cobblestones.
All around her the crowd bustled—fishermen carrying baskets of fish, farmers pushing wheelbarrows of mushrooms, and beggars and urchins scampering about. Several merchants rode upon palanquins with silk curtains; liveried servants carried the loads, bells ringing around their necks. The smells of fresh fish, tangy mushrooms, perfumes, and sweat all filled Koyee’s nostrils, vying for dominance, an intoxicating aroma both sickly and sweet.

  When she reached the archway, she saw that a dozen guards stood here. They wore scales, and their helmets were shaped like the heads of beasts, horned and snarling. Each guard held a spear and wore a katana at his belt. Two stone pots stood within the archway, shaped as demons with gaping maws. Before entering the city, every person dropped a coin into a granite mouth, letting the toll chink against a treasure.

  Koyee grimaced and paused.

  “I didn’t realize we’d have to pay,” she said to Eelani. “We have only one coin.”

  She bit her lip, reached into her pouch, and fished out her single piece of copper. She hefted it in her palm, staring at the moonstar on its surface. She had no food or drink left; she had hoped to buy more with this coin.

  “We’ll have to pay. It would be no good to have come all this way, Eelani, only to be turned back at the gates.” She bit her lip, rolled her eyes, and snorted. “We’ll be poor and hungry, but we’ll find a way to survive. We’ll think on our feet.”

  She tightened her lips and walked closer to the city. As she neared a pot of coins, she glanced in and saw enough money to feed her until old age. Her eyes widened as the light fell upon her face.

  A guard clanked toward her, and a rough hand grabbed Koyee and yanked her back.

  “Don’t think of stealing these coins, urchin, like you stole that pretty sword.”

  Koyee tugged herself free and glared at the guard. She couldn’t see his face, only a visor shaped like a screaming demon. He stood a head taller than her, but Koyee placed her hands on her hips and raised her chin.

  “I did not steal my sword,” she said. “And I’m no urchin. I’m the daughter of a great warrior.”

  The guard laughed, voice echoing behind his visor. “You’re dressed like a fisherman’s daughter and you smell like one too. Your sword’s a pretty thing, though; what dead man did you steal it off?”

  The words drove into her, themselves a blade. She bared her teeth at the guard. She raised her coin, holding it tight between her fingers.

  “I have a coin,” she said. “It’s copper. Is this enough to enter?”

  “Toss it into the pot with the rest. And be careful, girl. Many fishermen’s daughters come to Pahmey seeking their fortunes. We fish many out of the river.” He snorted. “If I were you, I’d turn back toward whatever village you’re from. This city crushes dreams.”

  She snorted too. “Did you come here dreaming of glory, then ended up a humble guard? Don’t take out your bitterness on me.”

  The man growled and raised his hand, ready to strike her. Koyee scampered back, tossed her coin into the pot, and stuck her tongue out at the guard. He cursed and stepped toward her, reaching for his sword. She turned and raced into the city, leaving him behind at his post.

  * * * * *

  Koyee had promised herself she wouldn’t gape, but as she walked down the city street she couldn’t help it. Her head tilted back, her eyes widened, and her jaw hung open.

  Buildings lined the street, rising several stories tall. Their bricks were made of opaque glass; Koyee could see the moonlight, the stars, and even her own form reflected within them. Some bricks were deep blue, others gray, and some silver, and some seemed molded of many colors mixed together. Atop these buildings rested roofs of green ceramic tiles, their corners slanting out and upward. Bronze statues topped some roofs, shaped as dancing maidens or animals. More statues—these of dragons—stood on the roadsides, their claws holding tallow lanterns.

  “This sure beats the mud huts at home, doesn’t it, Eelani?” she whispered.

  She had thought the docks busy, but even thicker crowds bustled along this street. The wealthy traveled on palanquins. Soldiers patrolled afoot, armor clattering and spears thumping against the cobblestones. Children scampered underfoot. All along the roadsides, sellers stood hawking their wares; thousands of tin and pewter dishes displayed every sort of treasure Koyee could imagine. Some peddlers sold mushrooms: piles of yellow chanterelles, aromatic milkcaps, purple blewits, and fuzzy maitakes that reminded Koyee of brains. Other peddlers hawked fresh fish, urchins, and clams caught in the river. Some merchants sold gemstones, clay dolls, and even glass amulets that trapped the glowing lights of fish.

  Koyee’s stomach gave a growl, and she longingly eyed a dish full of truffles.

  “I wish we still had that coin,” she said. “I’m famished. I know you are too, Eelani.” She patted her empty belly. “We’ll have to do without for a while. We have to think of Eloria’s safety before we think of our belly.”

  She looked up past the bustling market. The towers rose ahead, green and silver and blue, all built of the same glass and crystal. Minlao Palace loomed above the rest, its moon-shaped dome watching the city like a great eye.

  “That’s where we must go. That’s where we must seek aid.”

  She nodded, ignored the scents of food, and trudged onward.

  She walked through the market, coiling along its busy streets, before finally emerging into boulevards lined with pagodas. These homes seemed large as mansions to Koyee, their sloping roofs upturned at the edges like curling parchment. Statues guarded gardens of mushrooms and curtains swung from windows. Even the bat houses here, ornate structures of brass and bronze, seemed finer than the huts back in Oshy.

  Women with painted faces walked these streets in flowing robes, seeming to Koyee, with her simple tunic and bare feet, like ghosts from a story. Golden sashes encircled their waists, and glass beads hung around their necks, trapping the glow of anglerfish lures. Their hands looked powdered and soft while hers were callous, and their faces seemed so fair while hers was scarred.

  She whispered to Eelani, “I wager the people of these streets never gutted a fish, dug through rocky ground for truffles, or built walls of clay.”

  As she kept walking, she passed a temple, its marble columns topped with dragon capitals. A glass dome rose above the columns, large enough that Koyee thought it could have enclosed all of Oshy. When she peered between the columns, she saw priests with flowing white beards and flowing white robes. Starlight fell upon them through the glass dome. They sang to the constellations, voices deep and sonorous; Koyee found the melody strangely sad, a song that sounded ancient and beautiful, sweet yet melancholy, like a warm memory in a cold place.

  She kept walking, moving away from the temple. Across a cobbled square rose a great pagoda—this one not a home but a castle—its five tiers of roofs tiled blue, its walls lined with archers. Deeper into the city, towers began to rise. The first towers Koyee passed rose little taller than the surrounding houses, but soon they grew larger. Even when Koyee craned her neck all the way back, she couldn’t see their tops.

  She must have walked for a full hourglass day before she reached Minlao Palace. When finally she stood before it, she felt smaller than a speck of dust, smaller than a single star in the sky. The tower loomed above her, carved of silver crystal. It was easily the tallest tower in the city. High above, its dome shone like a second moon, giving the palace its name—Minlao, the glow of the moon.

  “Well, here we are,” she said. “If there’s any help in the world, it lies here.”

  She squared her shoulders and ignored another rumble in her belly. She walked toward the tower gates.

  More guards stood here, but these ones wore no armor. White robes flowed across them, and their hair flowed just as white and smooth. Their large, lavender eyes blinked at her. They held halberds and swords hung across their backs, their hilts wrapped in silver silk. Koyee stood five feet tall, average height for a girl from Oshy; these guards towered two feet
taller.

  She marched up toward them, placed her hands on her hips, and tried to speak in a loud and steady voice.

  “I am Koyee Mai, daughter of Salai from the village of Oshy. Our village has been attacked. Do the elders of Pahmey dwell here? I must deliver this news.”

  She wondered if the guards would flinch at “Mai,” the title of a woman with no father, brother, or husband; she knew that some spurned the mai, calling them loose women. These towering, robed guards only smiled, though no warmth filled their eyes.

  “Welcome to Minlao Palace,” said one; his face was oval and his forehead high, and silver paint coiled across his jutting cheeks. “The elders of Pahmey watch their children from this tower. They are wise and see far. You need not fear, child of Oshy, for you are safe here, and the elders defend the great nation of Qaelin.”

  Koyee cleared her throat. “I’m sure they’re very wise indeed and see very far from up there. But Oshy lies a great distance from here, all the way on the border with Timandra.” She took a step closer. “The Timandrians have attacked us. I must speak with the elders.”

  The guards stepped closer together, barring her passage. Again, the guard with the silvery face smiled upon her.

  “Many come here wishing to speak with the elders,” he said. He swept his arm behind him, gesturing at the palace gates. “Behold all who’ve come to hear their wisdom.”

  Koyee stood on tiptoes, tilted sideways, and peered at the tower’s base. Her heart sank. Along cobbled streets and squares she saw a crowd of people all gathered together, standing still, waiting.

  She gulped. “I cannot stand here and wait with them! My village needs help. All of Eloria could burn if Timandrians now dare pass the dusk. Take me to your elders at once.”

  The guards cleared their throats and blinked again.

  The silvery-cheeked guard opened a scroll. It rolled down to his feet. Hundreds of ribbons, all of different colors and designs, were pinned to the parchment. With a quill, he inked a word onto the scroll.