Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  They sailed two miles along the coast, the captain’s daughters—dour women, their red hair as shaggy as their fur tunics—tugging ropes and rudder as they cursed and spat. When they saw the light upon the coast, flickering between a clump of boulders, Cam signaled with his own lamp.

  Suntai and her nightwolves swam across the dark waters and joined them on board. The two canines, almost as large as the bears of Verilon, shook their fur upon the deck, spraying water everywhere. Suntai smiled thinly, her tall body clad in scales, her katanas and daggers at her sides. Seeing the strange companions, the sailors’ daughters cursed with new vigor and grumbled under their breath.

  “Now let’s head north,” Cam said. “North into the cold darkness. North to Leen.”

  The Bear Maiden turned in the water. They sailed into the shadows, leaving the empire of Qaelin behind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  TIANLONG

  They sat in the shadowy chamber, a single candle lighting a dusty floor and brick walls.

  “Koyee, you don’t have to do this,” Torin said, eyes pained. “We can leave this place … sneak out in shadow, make our way to the docks, and sail back north.”

  She sat on the bench, staring at the sword on her lap. The candlelight played across the mottles and swirls in the steel. Sheytusung. Sword of her father. Her sword. The blade she had killed with. The blade that could, here in this pit, save the land of night.

  “I will not turn back,” she said, speaking more to the blade than to Torin. “I gazed upon the strength and cruelty of the Ilari Empire. How can I sail home without their might at my back? I must tame this creature of darkness. I must make the beast of Ilar my own.” She raised her eyes and looked at Torin. “I must win this fight, or the empress will not help us. We need Ilar or the lands of darkness will fall.”

  “Not like this!” Torin shook his head mightily. “There must be another way to convince the empress. We will wait. The war will come here again. Empress Hikari will see reason. If we only—”

  “We cannot wait. Ferius and his army march east along Sage’s Road. Perhaps they are in Yintao already. We cannot wait.” The curse on her left arm twisted and tightened, squeezing her like a vise, and she winced. “This is the only way.”

  The muffled cheering rose behind the door, a sound like a storm. They chanted for her death. They cried for her blood. They would see her torn apart upon the dust of the arena, and they would cheer the loudest if the creature tore out her heart.

  So I cannot fail. For the memory of my village. For my family. For Eloria.

  She rose to her feet and stepped toward the door. “I hear them calling. It’s time.”

  Torin leaped toward her and grabbed her good arm. Pain twisted his face. His wrists were still bound, but his fingers clutched at her.

  “Please, Koyee. If you go out there, you will die.”

  She touched his bristly, dusty cheek. “If I stay here, we all die.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Goodbye, Torin.”

  She turned to leave, but he held her fast, tugging her toward him, and she found herself pressed against him, kissing him deeply. He whispered into her ear, voice hoarse, almost drowning under the din from outside.

  “I love you too, Koyee.”

  She kissed his forehead, opened the door, and stepped outside into the light, sand, and roars of the arena.

  Fifty thousand souls howled. A ring of stone surrounded her, rising many tiers tall, crowded with the chanting people of the city. There were soldiers and priests, commoners and traders, men and women and even children. All shouted for her blood, waving the banners of their empire. The empress herself sat among them, her seat gilded, a canopy of red silk rising above her.

  Koyee’s head spun. The roars pounded into her like waves. She took several steps deeper into the arena, a sandy circle two hundred feet in diameter. Iron spikes surrounded the circle, pointing inward, their tips gleaming with poison; Koyee felt as though she stood in the mouth of a great beast, its teeth ready to snap shut. She looked over her shoulder, hoping to see Torin one last time, but the chamber door had closed, sealing him inside. She stood here alone.

  “Death to Qaelin!” shouted the people around her, their voices consolidating into a single chant. “Death to Qaelin! Death to Qaelin!”

  Koyee lowered her helm’s visor, hefted her shield, and raised her katana.

  “Be with me, Sheytusung,” she whispered. “Be with me, Father.”

  She stared across the arena at the second doorway; it was identical to the one she had stepped through. Her opponent waited there. The crowd chanted around her, fists pounding chests.

  Suddenly laughter rose in her.

  “Look at us, Eelani,” she said, eyes stinging. “Koyee and Eelani—dragonslayers.”

  She had to grind her teeth to stop from shaking.

  The door across the arena opened.

  The crowd’s roar swelled, pounding against Koyee’s ears and chest, aching against her ribs.

  Like a snake emerging from a lair, Tianlong the dragon, black beast of Ilar, burst into the arena.

  “Death to Qaelin! Death to Qaelin!”

  Koyee bared her teeth.

  Stand your ground, Koyee. Focus. Breathe. Figh—

  The dragon soared and came swooping down toward her, mouth opened wide enough to swallow her.

  Koyee yelped and raised her shield.

  The great serpent crashed against her with a force like a falling mountain. Screaming, Koyee dropped to one knee. The beast snapped at her shield, teeth lashing around the metal. Koyee strained to shove the shield upward, to keep the dragon away; she felt like Tianlong could push her into the earth.

  “Death to Qaelin!” the crowd chanted. “Tianlong, Tianlong!”

  Koyee sucked in her breath, growled, and swung her sword. The blade reached around her shield and slammed into Tianlong’s black scales.

  The dragon shrieked and pulled back.

  Koyee leaped to her feet, facing the beast.

  Fifty feet long, the reptile hissed. Though he had no wings, he hovered above the ground. His tail swayed. Sand filled his red beard, and his eyes gleamed, red orbs the size of Koyee’s fists. In paintings and drawings, Shenlai—the blue dragon of Koyee’s homeland—appeared long and limbless like a snake. But Tianlong, the black dragon of Ilar, had diminutive arms that ended with claws. They were no larger than Koyee’s own arms, so disproportionately small that despite the fear of battle and roaring crowd, she laughed.

  “Tianlong!” she said and raised her blade. “This sword slew many of your people. Come taste it again.”

  The dragon bellowed, shot skyward, and came plummeting down a second time.

  Koyee leaped sideways.

  Tianlong’s fangs drove into the dust, and Koyee jumped and landed on his head.

  The dragon shrieked and bucked. Koyee flew into the air. She reached out and grabbed Tianlong’s horn, but her hand slipped. She tumbled and thumped into the sand. The breath was knocked out of her. The dragon’s tail lashed, slamming into her side. Koyee flew again.

  The crowd howled. In midair, Koyee held out her shield. The metal slammed into the spikes surrounding the arena. One spike pierced the shield, emerging rusty and dripping poison an inch from Koyee’s face.

  She let go of the shield.

  She slumped to the ground in time to see Tianlong race toward her, his beard dragging through the sand, his maw open.

  She ran, skirted his head, and slammed her sword down. The blade hit the dragon’s neck, but the beast’s scales were hard as armor, sparking under her blade.

  Her arm blazed with pain. She felt the curse crawling across her, driving down to the bone, and she screamed, nearly fainting from the agony. She tried to strike again, but the pain dulled her reflexes. Tianlong lashed his tail, hitting her chest. She slammed into the sand.

  The dragon rose and swooped again, and this time Koyee had no shield. She held her sword upward, hoping to skewer the beast’s maw as he
tried to bite. But Tianlong dodged the attack, grabbed the blade between his teeth, and tugged.

  The sword came free from her hand.

  “Sheytusung!” she shouted.

  The dragon spat the blade out like a man spitting out a toothpick. Blood trickled from Tianlong’s gums, but he managed to grin and hiss, leering down at her in the sand. Koyee wanted to rise. She wanted to chase her sword, to keep fighting with tooth and nail if she had to. But her arm kept blazing; it felt like a swarm of insects scuttling across her, and her sleeve bulged.

  The dragon drove in to bite.

  Nearly blind with pain, Koyee rolled aside, and the fangs drove into the sand. Her body pressed against her wounded arm, and she screamed in agony, tears budding in her eyes. The heat of battle stoked the curse like oil on flame. She felt the black welts rise to her shoulder, her neck, flowing down her back, creaking her bones, and—

  Tianlong came plunging down toward her, an asp striking at a rat. Koyee’s eyes rolled back. She managed to roll aside and the crowd chanted around her, an endless sea like the one she had navigated with Torin, and she wept because she missed him and she was sorry.

  I’m sorry, Torin. I’m sorry I failed you, that I failed the night. I love you.

  The dragon bit. Fangs drove into her armor, bending the scales, reaching toward her flesh. She was vaguely aware of the beast lifting her. She hung many feet above the ground, caught in his maw, her armor bending between his teeth, and she knew that she had only a few heartbeats left.

  Her arm rustled. Her eyes fluttered open. And she saw him there. He was running across the arena, wrists bound. The crowd jeered. Torin leaped and landed onto the dragon, kicking and biting at the scales.

  Koyee in his mouth, Tianlong snorted and laughed.

  His amusement loosened his teeth.

  Nearly fainting with pain, Koyee kicked, driving her feet into the beast’s palate. The mouth opened. Koyee leaped out, grabbed a fang, and swung as if around a pole. She leaped into the air and landed on the dragon’s head, a good fifty feet above the arena.

  She had no shield. She had no sword. All she had was her pain. She tore off her sleeve, exposing her arm.

  The black welts covered her completely, hiding her skin—the arm looked like a burnt log rustling with insects, searing hot and stinking. Tianlong bucked beneath her, shaking his head. Koyee held on tight and shoved her arm down, placing the festering limb across the dragon’s eyes.

  Pain blazed through her like a thousand suns.

  The dragon shrieked—a sound of shattering glass, of crashing stars, of falling empires.

  Koyee rubbed her arm against his eyes, driving it against the orbs, nearly passing out from the pain, unable to breathe. Through the fog of tears, she was just able to see the curse spread, the tendrils crawling into the beast’s eyes.

  Her grip on the dragon’s horn loosened.

  She rolled down Tianlong’s scaly neck, fell through the air, and thumped into the sand.

  Blinded, the dragon flailed. His head lashed from side to side, enraged, the dark magic in his eyes. He cried for his empire. He cried for his mistress.

  Arm wobbling, Koyee rose to her feet. She trudged through the sand and lifted her fallen sword.

  “Tianlong!” she cried hoarsely.

  Hearing her cry, the blind dragon lashed his head toward her, still trying to bite.

  Koyee sidestepped, grabbed the beast’s horn, and placed the tip of her sword against his ear.

  “Do not move, Tianlong!” she shouted. “Move and my blade will enter your skull.”

  The dragon froze, the curse rustling in his eyes like cockroaches inside two bowls.

  Koyee was vaguely aware of Torin lying several feet away, moaning, his chest rising and falling. She dared not approach him. Holding the sword to the dragon’s head, she raised her eyes and sought the empress.

  Hikari was standing under her canopy, gazing down from above. Their eyes met—a Qaelish girl and the mistress of a southern empire. All across the amphitheater, the thousands of spectators stared, silent.

  “Fight with me,” Koyee said, chin raised. “Fight with Qaelin. I will spare Tianlong’s life, for he is a noble beast and a true warrior. Let Tianlong fly north with us. We will roar together! We will slay sunlit demons.”

  The empress looked down at her, silent.

  “Fight with me…” Koyee said, arm rustling. “Sail north. We must…”

  Her eyes rolled back.

  She thought that Torin caught her, but she wasn’t sure.

  She thought the empress was shouting, that soldiers were rushing forth, that the sun was rising. She closed her eyes and let her body glide through dark oceans.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE HALLS OF ETERNAL HARMONY

  As the full moon rose, Bailey beheld the distant city of Yintao, capital of Qaelin.

  Riders around her murmured in awe. She heard phrases like “the heart of the empire” and “city of harmony” and “the halls of the undying” and other fancy words. Sitting atop her nightwolf, Bailey found it harder to be impressed.

  “I expected something more … grand,” she said to Okado; the tall warrior rode at her side. “Crystal towers of light like in Pahmey. Hot air balloons by the thousands. Fireworks and trumpets and fanfare. Jugglers and dancers and majestic animals with names I can’t pronounce. But I only see brick walls.”

  Her nightwolf panted beneath her, the silvery female Ayka. Stroking the animal, Bailey stared ahead, trying to seek some grandeur she had missed. The walls stretched ahead across the land; they seemed miles long. Every hundred yards, a pagoda rose from the walls—guard towers, she surmised. Lanterns lined the battlements like orderly soldiers. Behind these defenses, she saw nothing—no hot air balloons, no glass steeples, no domes of light. Brick walls and shadows—that was how Yintao greeted them.

  Okado shifted upon his nightwolf, turning to face Bailey. “Might is not judged by lights and fanfare. Would you judge the Chanku Pack by the crater that was our home? Pahmey shone with lights for many miles; it fell within two hourglass turns. Yintao is no center of beauty or pleasure; it is a fortress of stone and steel.” He gave Bailey a mirthless smile. “I would choose no other place for Eloria to make its final stand.”

  Bailey patted her bow. “So long as I can slay Sailith monks from these walls, I suppose the place will serve.”

  The pack kept moving, thousands of warriors in armor upon their wolves, their elders and children within their protective ring. No stars shone this night; a shadow covered the sky like an omen of death. When the moon broke through the cover, it fell upon a silver river to her east and mountains ahead. Between water and stone, the city loomed.

  As the pack drew closer, Bailey began to realize how tall these walls rose. Tiny figures stood atop them, armor and spearheads glinting in the light of lanterns. Judging by the sentries’ size, the walls of Yintao must have risen a hundred feet tall. Lining them like a spine ridge, the pagodas rose even taller, their tiers of roofs tiled red. Not a sound seemed to rise from the city. Pahmey had always hummed, a blend of distant song, chatter, and footfalls. Yintao stood like a silent graveyard.

  This city will be a graveyard, she thought and grimaced. Thousands will die upon these walls. Here we stand or fall. She looked into the northern darkness. Hurry, Cam, and return with aid. She turned to stare southward. Hurry, Torin. Come back to me.

  She touched her lips, remembering their kiss, and winced with the pain of missing him. Come back soon, Torin, so I can smack you for making me feel like a doe-eyed farm girl. I’m going to smack you so hard you cry.

  The Sage’s Road led them toward the city gatehouse. An archway loomed between two guard towers, its keystone sporting a dragon of blue tiles. Iron doors stood closed within, their facades engraved with soldiers battling beasts under the constellations. Fifty living soldiers stood upon the gatehouse battlements, arrows nocked and aiming at the pack. Across the walls, many more troops stared down silently, bo
ws in hand. They wore shirts of scales and curving helms. Broad men, their faces were hard and cold, and white mustaches adorned their upper lips. Their banners flapped in the wind, hiding and showing the moonstar of Qaelin.

  “Fire rises behind us!” Okado shouted, standing in his stirrups. “Hail, guards of Yintao. We bring aid!”

  For long moments, the guards atop the walls merely stood silently, staring down, not lowering the bows. The pack stirred and grumbled. Voices rose, demanding entrance, vowing to attack the city should the doors not open. While the soldiers upon the walls were like automatons of steel, the pack was a wild thing, a horde thirsty for the fight. Okado turned around in the saddle, glaring at his riders.

  “Silence!” He turned back toward the walls. “Chanku rides to aid Yintao. All armies of Qaelin must now fight united. A great enemy follows along Sage’s Road. Timandra crawls upon the land. I am Okado, ruler of Chanku; I will speak to your emperor.”

  For another long moment, not a guard stirred, and even the banners drooped and would not flap. Bailey held her breath, staring, wondering if they had come all this way in vain.

  Then, with wails like a mournful ghost, the iron doors of Yintao began to open.

  The wolves yipped and clawed the earth. Bailey leaned forward in the saddle and a gasp fled her lips. She clutched the hilt of her sword.

  “By Idar’s flea-ridden beard,” she muttered. “Civilization in the wilderness.”

  The opening doors revealed a boulevard as wide as most towns. Polished flagstones formed its surface, and columns rose in palisades, lining the road, lanterns flaring out from their marble like mushrooms upon trees. Between every column stood a guard in scales, a spear and shield in hand, so stiff Bailey thought they might be statues. The road stretched for miles; Bailey saw it pass through several other gates. Far in the distance, rising from shadow, stood a great pagoda with seven tiers of red roofs. A golden idol stood atop the uppermost roof—the ancient sage Xen Qae, clad in robes, his hands pressed together in meditation.