Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  Queen Lilika raised her glass. “To the moon!” she said. “To new friends. To the yezyani, bringers of joy and warmth in a world of darkness.”

  She drank solemnly. All around her, the other women fell silent and drank too. The spirits burned down Koyee’s throat, pinched her nose, and warmed her belly. She wrinkled her nose and coughed, and the yezyani laughed.

  After slamming down their glasses, the yezyani sat upon the great bed, pulled Koyee between them, and laughed and touched her hair.

  “You never talk to us, Madori!” said Queen Lilika, playing with her golden hair. “Always you stand on your pedestal alone, then hurry upstairs like a nightwolf is biting your bottom. Always you hide in your little room. Tell us about you.”

  The other yezyani bounced up and down on the bed.

  “Where are you from?” asked Atana. “Your accent is not of Pahmey.” The puppeteer imitated Koyee, feigning a village accent. “I am Madori Mai. I play the flute. Leave me alone; I don’t like to talk.” She winked, grinned, then collapsed onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

  Another yezyana reached out toward her cheek, and Koyee recoiled, sure that the girl would mock her scars, but the young dancer only said, “Your skin is so fair! You don’t even need white paint.”

  Koyee’s fear began to ease. There was no cruelty here. These yezyani were silly, but they would not torment her the way Longarm had in the graveyard. She smiled hesitantly, and when they poured her more spirits, she drank again.

  “I’m from a small village named Oshy,” she said. “I’m an orphan and moved to Pahmey after our village was attacked.” She looked down into her cup. “Oshy is on the border of the day. A sunlit demon slew my father.”

  Her eyes watered, and when she blinked them, she saw the other yezyani’s smiles vanish. They stared at her, eyes wide. Little Atana, barely larger than a child, covered her mouth. Tall and fair Lilika, wearing her dragon tiara, tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. They all stared silently.

  “So it really exists?” whispered Atana, her mischievous smile gone. “A land covered in firelight, a realm where a great star burns in the sky, large as the moon and bright as lightning?” She trembled and covered her eyes.

  Lilika pulled the petite puppeteer into an embrace. “Of course it’s not real, Atana. There’s no such place.” She looked at Koyee as if admonishing her for frightening the girl. “Isn’t that right, Madori?”

  Koyee frowned and leaped off the bed, sending the others bouncing and falling over.

  “Of course it’s a real place!” Rage flared in her. “I lived right beside it. The demons of sunlight killed my father. As far as I know, they’ve killed more people since I left Oshy. There is a land that lies always in daylight, like in the old stories, and demons live there, demons of cruel eyes and…”

  She let her words trail off. The yezyani were all staring at her, some afraid, a couple weeping, others shaking their heads in disbelief.

  “I hope you never believe me,” Koyee said. “I hope you always think it’s just a legend. That means you are safe. Because if you ever learn the truth, if the Timandrians ever reach this city … we will burn in their fire.”

  Atana whimpered, but the others only rolled their eyes. One dancer, a smirking little thing with emerald eyes, mumbled something about Koyee being wrong in the head.

  They are fools, Koyee thought, eyes burning and fists clenched. This whole city is full of fools.

  With a huff, she left the chamber and stomped downstairs into the common room. She was too upset to sleep or eat; she would play her flute for more coins. The faster she earned money, the sooner she could buy enough food and supplies to leave Pahmey, to return to Oshy and defend it.

  She stepped onto her pedestal, began to play her flute, and paused when the front door swung open. A gust of cold wind blew, fluttering the smoke. The spicers barely flinched, but Koyee shivered in the cold and stared. A man she did not recognize hobbled into the Green Geode. Bald and gaunt, he wore a merchant’s blue silks, and even through the smoke of hintan, Koyee scented a faint hint of the river. She would recognize the scent of the Inaro River anywhere.

  “Nukari!” the man shouted out. “Bring me a lot of spice. I’m shaken and need to forget. Oh by the moonlight…” He trembled, covered his eyes with his hand, and paced the room.

  Koyee had seen many lost souls in the Green Geode—spurned lovers, grieving widowers, and failed gamblers. Most shuffled in, heads lowered and shoulders stooped. This man paced and trembled and wrung his hands. He was not dejected. He was afraid.

  Already on edge from her conversation upstairs, Koyee sucked in her breath, and a single thought leaped into her mind: He saw a Timandrian.

  Koyee had trembled the same way when she had seen one.

  She lowered her flute, jumped off her pedestal, and made her way between the beds of hookah smokers. When she reached the man, he barely seemed to notice her. He was mumbling under his breath, and his fists clenched and unclenched.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked him.

  He looked her way, didn’t seem to register her for a moment, then blinked. In addition to the river, she detected the faint scent of smoke, different from the smoke of the spice; this smelled like fire.

  “It burned,” he whispered, lips trembling and eyes wild. “The whole village burned, and … merciful moonlight, so many creatures around it, an army of light, and … I need my spice.” He raised his voice and turned to the bar. “Nukari, bring me spice—”

  Koyee grabbed his shoulders, spun him back toward her, and glared.

  “What village?” she said. “What army?”

  But she already knew the answer.

  It pounded through her, shook her limbs, and constricted her throat.

  “I sailed to Oshy with silks,” he whispered. “Silks to trade for crayfish, that is all.” He covered his eyes. “An army of sunfire, spilling from Dayside, so many they covered the world. I am mad. I think I am mad! Too much spice, too much spice, too many waking dreams…”

  Oshy burns.

  Koyee trembled.

  My home. I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry.

  “They will march here too,” she whispered, knees shaking. “They will burn us. I must—”

  A hand grabbed her arm, and a voice hissed into her ear. “You must play your flute, Madori Mai. You must never speak to our patrons.”

  She turned to see Nukari sneering at her, his eyebrows—painted green and purple—pushed down over angry eyes. His teeth shone in the lamplight.

  Koyee wrenched herself free. “My village!” she blurted out, loud enough that even the hookah smokers looked up and winced. “I must go there now. Dayside attacks! I must save them. I—”

  Nukari slapped her.

  His hand blazed against her face, knocking her head sideways, and Koyee gasped. Pain bolted through her, light flashed, and she nearly fell.

  “You will be silent!” he said. “You will not frighten our patrons, you filthy fisherman’s daughter.” He grabbed both her arms and began tugging her toward the staircase. “You will stay in your room until you learn respect.”

  Koyee roared, tugged mightily, but could not free herself.

  “Release me!” she said. “Nukari, release me!”

  He struck her again, a blow that rattled her jaw, and dragged her onto the staircase. His one hand held her arm; the other tugged her hair. She screamed and struggled, but couldn’t free herself. He reached her room, shoved her inside, and she fell to the floor.

  “You will stay here until you calm yourself!” he said.

  She leaped up and raced to the door.

  It slammed in her face, and the lock clicked.

  Koyee yowled, slammed against the door, but only hurt her shoulder; the door was forged of bronze. She yanked at the knob again and again but couldn’t free herself.

  “Eelani, it’s happening,” she whispered and shook. “The Timandrians attack. They’ll come here too. Maybe we can still save Oshy. Mayb
e some villagers lived.”

  She ran toward the window and tugged at the bars, but they wouldn’t budge. She peered outside, seeking aid from someone—anyone—but the alleyway below was deserted. What could she do? Scream for help? Would Nukari only barge in here and gag her?

  “We never should have come to this place,” she said. “We never should have agreed to play here. We should have just … just run to Oshy, even if it took a full moon, even if we starved on the way. It would have been better than languishing here in a prison.”

  She found tears on her cheeks, rubbed them away, and stomped her feet.

  “No, Eelani! No. Don’t pity yourself. That won’t help. I have a sword and I can fight. I will fight the Timandrians.” She drew Sheytusung and watched the light glimmer against the blade. “I vow to you: Timandra will taste this steel.”

  She rushed back to the window bars, tugged them again, and then banged against the door. Neither would budge. With a groan, she fell onto the bed, lay on her back, and stared at the ceiling.

  “We have to find a way out,” she whispered. “What will we do, Eelani?”

  Her shoulder spirit scampered onto her chest; Koyee felt the warmth nestle against her. She stroked her invisible friend. Without Eelani, she would have gone mad, she thought. It was good to have a friend, even if she were just an invisible one most folk claimed was imaginary.

  “You’ve always been there for me, Eelani. You’ve always helped me. Maybe you can…”

  Koyee froze.

  She sat up.

  A trembling smile touched her lips.

  “Eelani!” she whispered. “You can go fetch the key. You know that Nukari keeps his keys in the blue bowl downstairs.” She hopped off the bed, stepped toward the door, and lowered her hand to the ground. “Squeeze under the door, Eelani, and go downstairs. You’re skinny enough to do it. Fetch me the key!”

  She could swear she felt the faintest of flutters, a hint of warmth that raised goose bumps, as Eelani scampered down her arm, squeezed under the door, and raced off.

  “Be quick,” Koyee whispered, turned away from the door, and began to pace. She closed her eyes, remembering home: the song of the river, gently flowing, scattering beads of moonlight; the lanterns that swung from the boats, orange spirits that floated in the dark; her humble hut, a warm and cozy place of memory; and mostly her family … her brother, who’d left so long ago, and her father who lay buried beneath the Nighttower.

  Was it all gone now?

  She stared between the window bars at the towers of Pahmey, wonders of crystal and glass. This was a city of beauty, but it was not her home. She lowered her head.

  A scraping sounded behind her.

  She spun around to see a shadow dart under the doorway.

  A key slid under the frame.

  Koyee leaped forward and grabbed the key.

  “Did you bring it back, Eelani?” she said. She stared out the keyhole, wondering if another yezyana had brought her this gift, but could see nobody. When she looked at her shoulder, she thought she felt warmth settling down. Eelani was back.

  Tongue thrust between her teeth, Koyee placed the key into the keyhole, turned, and heard the lock click. Biting her lip, she twisted the doorknob as slowly as she could. The door creaked open, and Koyee thrust her head out into the hallway. She saw nothing but shadows and a single lantern.

  She tiptoed down the hallway, holding her breath, her sword sheathed across her back. Her heart nearly stopped as she climbed downstairs, but she forced herself onward. When she emerged into the common room, she pressed herself against the shadowy wall. Smoke filled the place; it would hide her.

  “Now hush, Eelani,” she whispered. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled between the beds. The smokers lay slumped upon the mattresses, arms dangling to the floor, their fingernails long and curling. Smoke swirled everywhere and Koyee struggled not to cough. As she crawled, she glanced up toward the bar; Nukari stood there, counting coins and grumbling of cheap patrons. Koyee crawled around another bed, glanced up again, and saw Lilika dancing upon a stage. The tall, golden-eyed yezyana looked down and met Koyee’s gaze. Koyee’s heart thrashed and she froze, sure that Lilika would alert their master, but the dancer only smiled and winked.

  Holding her breath, Koyee scuttled forward the last few feet, reached the front door, and burst outside onto the street.

  She ran a few feet down the road, then had to pause. Her head spun, and she inhaled a deep breath of fresh, cold air. For so long—almost two moons—she had languished inside the Green Geode, inhaling smoke and perfume. For a few heartbeats, she could only stand on the street, breathing deeply.

  Then, with a determined nod, she ran again.

  She raced past glittering shops of glass, columned theaters of gold and silver, and temples of light and song. People cursed and yelped and moved aside. Her heart pounded and she grimaced as she ran, arms pumping.

  Her lungs were blazing and her legs wobbling when she reached Minlao Palace. The same old guards stood there, tall and clad in white robes, their faces painted with coiling silver strands.

  “Hello, daughter of Eloria,” they said, pleasant as always. “Welcome to—”

  “I have to get through!” she shouted. She ran toward the palace doorway only to slam against the guards who moved to block her passage.

  “Certainly, friend,” said one. He unrolled a scroll and unpinned a ribbon. “Take this yellow ribbon and—”

  “I don’t have time for that!” Koyee shouted. She tried to shove past them again, and when they blocked her way, she pulled her hair with frustration. “The Timandrians attacked my village, and—”

  When the guards only smiled pleasantly, Koyee let out a loud, long groan. She spun around and raced away.

  There had to be somebody who’d listen, who could help!

  She raced down more streets, sweat dampening her new dress of black silk, until she saw the Night Castle ahead—the great pagoda where the city’s soldiers lived. Golden statues topped its five tiers of sloping, green roofs. Arrowslits covered its brick walls. Guards stood outside its gates, covered in armor of steel scales, their shields emblazoned with the moonstar. Helmets topped their heads, the visors shaped as spirits and demons. Katanas, their hilts wrapped in blue, green, and black silk, hung at their sides.

  “Timandra attacks!” Koyee cried, running toward them. She hoped that her own katana—and perhaps her fine new dress—would impress them enough to listen. “News comes from Oshy. The village burns.”

  She stood panting before them, but the guards only stared at her silently, faces hidden.

  “We need to send men west!” Koyee cried. “Maybe we can still save the village. Let me speak to your lord!”

  Still they said nothing, and when she tried to push between them, they blocked her passage. With another scream, eyes burning, Koyee left the castle and raced down the streets.

  “What do we do, Eelani?” she asked. “By the stars, what do we do?”

  Her spirit hopped upon her shoulder and Koyee knew the answer. She would do what her father would. She would not rely on others. She would not beg for help from strangers. When Timandra had attacked Oshy the first time, he had gone out himself to face them, a single man with a single sword.

  “I will defend Eloria,” Koyee swore to herself. “If nobody else will fight with me, I will fight alone. I will wield the same blade he did. If I die, I die proud.”

  She wiped her brow, took a deep breath, and kept moving.

  All around her, the city bustled as usual. Shoppers wandered through markets. At street corners, buskers played lutes, juggled glass balls, or breathed fire. The poor scuttled around barefoot while the wealthy rode upon palanquins, carriages, or bluefeathers with clacking beaks. The scents and sights and sounds of Pahmey swirled around Koyee as usual. Nobody here knew of the danger. Nobody knew of her thrashing heart.

  When she reached the city gates, she found them wide open; people were leaving and entering,
paying their tolls. Outside, the ships of traders and fishermen sailed. Only five guards stood at the gates. Koyee ran toward a staircase that climbed the city wall. She raced up, hair damp with sweat, until she reached the battlements and gazed out upon the night plains.

  “Girl!” shouted a soldier, clanking toward her. A helmet hid his face, and a cloak draped across his shoulders. “Get back down into the city. Only soldiers may stand up here.”

  Koyee ignored him, looked west toward the distant dark lands, and a chill ran through her. She gripped her sword, and the wind blew her hair.

  “Now I’m a soldier too,” she whispered. “Now we must all fight.”

  The man took another step toward her, fists clenching. Across the battlements a hundred other soldiers stood in armor, holding spears and bows.

  “Girl, I am warning you,” he said. “You must—”

  “The fire rises,” she whispered, staring into the west, and took a shuddering breath. “The river burns.”

  The guard grabbed her arm. “Girl, I told you, you…”

  He froze, turned to follow her gaze, and his grip loosened. Koyee stared with him. Along the horizon, an orange glow rose like the dusk. Upon the distant waters of the Inaro River, a line of fire coiled like a red worm into a vein. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but Koyee could hear distant cries, trumpets, and drums.

  “The sun rises,” the soldier whispered and released her arm.

  Koyee drew her sword and stared off the battlements. She shook her head. “The sun stays in Timandra. Its demons flow forth.” She raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and forced a deep breath. “War is here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  GIFTS OF THE NIGHT

  Ceranor leaned over his ship’s prow, stared down the river, and beheld a distant cluster of glass and light. He sucked in air and gripped the railing.

  “A city,” he said. “A city in the night.”

  For years, his face had done nothing but frown. Now a smile twitched the corners of his lips and creaked his skin.

  From here, miles away, he could see no details. The glow ahead looked like a jewel discarded upon a black blanket, shards of green and pink and silver rising like crystals. Ceranor could have hidden them with his thumb. All around this glowing nexus, the darkness spread into the horizons, endless miles of lifeless plains and hills under a starry sky.