Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

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Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels Page 123

by Daniel Arenson


  Branet collapsed back in a chair, still muttering.

  Mandarack continued. “If we act now, it won’t be a coup; it will be a bloody civil war.” He looked from one Master to another. “And while we are killing each other in this Hall, who will be protecting our city? We are still Banes.”

  The Masters looked at each other and reluctantly nodded at that undeniable statement. Only Branet protested. “But Mandarack, you heard what he said about them.” He pointed to the sashes still draped over two empty chairs. “Dalict and Shonirat were good Banes, bright, hard-working. Adrix’s words as much as said that they got themselves killed. They don’t deserve that.”

  “No, Branet,” Mandarack replied softly. “They do not, and neither do you, or Relict, nor any of you.” He rose and beckoned to the waiting Banes. “Salick, take Garet, Dorict, and Marick to Lord Andarack’s house and do as he instructs. Whatever happens in the Hall, finding a way to counter this new demon power is our paramount task.” He paused in turning and added, “And take your weapons whenever you go out into the city.” He turned to the Masters. “The council will meet,” he smiled slightly, “as per the rules, after supper. As your duties allow, spend the day talking with others, trying to gauge how they feel. I will do the same.”

  The outside air was biting and tasted heavy, a sure sign that the first snow was on the way. Garet hoped his father and brothers had got in enough wood for the family to endure the cold of winter, then realized that he had not thought of them for some days. How could he forget? Guilt rose in him. His mother’s face, strangely unfocused, floated before him and he leaned against the gate post and swallowed hard.

  “Are you all right, Garet?” Dorict asked. Salick and Marick were half-way across the plaza, heading for the west bridge. The Bane’s round face was still flushed with anger.

  Garet shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He pushed off the wall and followed the others.

  “Master Mandarack will make sure we keep our sashes,” Dorict assured him.

  “It’s not that,” Garet replied. “I’m worried about my mother and sister, what with winter coming on so soon.” There, he thought, I’ve admitted it to someone else. His head felt strangely light after uttering the words.

  Dorict mused for a dozen steps. “Why don’t you send a letter to Boronict, at the Bangt Banehall? He’ll have lists of all the people in the area, and the Three Roads outpost will still be under Bangt’s control.” The young Bane looked up at him thoughtfully. “I know I couldn’t think if I didn’t know what was happening to my family.” He grimaced. “Well, most of them. I’m sure Boronict can get a message through for you.”

  “Dorict, you’re a genius!” Garet yelled, and grabbed the shorter Bane in a bear hug. He released him and ran after Salick and Marick, leaving his startled friend to try and catch up. A letter, of course, he thought. He was already composing it in his mind when he caught up with the others.

  “What are you happy about?” Marick asked sourly. Since breakfast he had been as downcast and angry as the others. He muttered constantly, planning his revenge.

  “Nothing…oh Dorict just suggested I send a letter to my mother,” he burst out, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

  Marick smiled in spite of himself. “I guess Boronict could help you deliver it,” he said, then his expression turned dark again. “I might go join the Bangt Hall myself, if we can’t stop these fools.”

  Salick nodded in glum agreement. “I never thought I’d want to leave Shirath, but how can we stay? Especially if Adrix attacks…” She didn’t finish the sentence but they knew she was afraid for Mandarack’s sake.

  In their low spirits, they barely noticed the other people in the plaza. Garet bumped into one, a fat merchant in an expensive green tunic, and said, “Oh, pardon sir.”

  “Look where you’re going, Bane,” the man snarled, and Garet drew back from the hate in his voice. “But I suppose we all know how blind you Banes are now,” he continued, words dripping with contempt. “My best apprentice lived in that building until last night—when your incompetence killed her!” The man pushed past them, his jowls quivering with rage.

  Garet stood open-mouthed until Salick gave him a little shake and said, “Don’t take it to heart, Garet. A lot of people are angry over their loss today.” She pulled him towards the bridge. “Say nothing to them, or we’ll just make the situation, and their pain, worse.” The guards at the bridge watched them sullenly as they passed though the gate and climbed the span.

  At the Eighth Ward gate, Gonect greeted them quietly. “It’s a sad day, Banes,” he told them as they huddled just inside the Ward walls. On this side of the river, the wind was keener. “The funeral processions are already lining up at the temples.” He nodded at the three domed buildings. Deep bells and the crying of women were carried to them on the cold wind. “Is it true that two Banes died as well?” he asked.

  Salick nodded.

  “Claws!” he swore softly. “Though it’s a better death to fall defending your people than to fall drunk off a bridge, I suppose,” he shook his head sadly.

  Garet thought about it and was forced to agree. As a Bane, he faced the possibility of death with each demon encounter. But at least he would die usefully. He looked at Gonect and suddenly saw him as one soldier—or citizen—might see his fellow. Impulsively, he grabbed the guard’s shoulder in sympathy.

  Gonect looked up and smiled at him. “Ah, young Bane, there’s no joy for any of us today, just company in grief.” And he waved them on, shaking his head and wiping his nose on a leather-bound sleeve.

  Salick did not say another word until she spoke to Andarack’s door guard, asking again to be let into his presence. The great hall was quiet, only a single woman worked at the great press, and it was several minutes before Andarack appeared. Salick and Garet gasped when they saw him. The Ward Lord had aged ten years in the short time since they last saw him. His eyes were bloodshot, his long hair wild and greasy, his face grey; he greeted them distractedly. “Come,” he said and led them out of the hall.

  They walked past the expensive hangings on the corridor walls to a narrow, back hall ending in a dark, downward stair. Giving each Bane a small lamp, and taking one for himself, Andarack led the way down the steps. The lights danced among the greater shadows as they descended. One flight, two, three, Garet counted. The walls became moist with condensation. Marick purposefully scraped the brass base of his lamp along the stone. He heard Salick whisper fierce reprimands at the boy. We must be far below the level of the street by now, Garet realized, jumping at the noise. Andarack paused for a moment and leaned against the wall. Dorict took his lamp while Salick and Marick supported him. Garet looked around. Although he was last in line, he was sure he felt another presence hovering behind him.

  “It’s all right,” Andarack said, wiping the sweat from his brow. A drop of water fell from overhead, extinguishing Dorict’s lamp. He yelped and hurriedly re-lit it from Salick’s lamp. The Ward Lord looked at them curiously. “Don’t you feel it?” he asked, his eyes shining in the flickering light.

  Garet sucked in his breath—the demon-fear! He reached for his rope-hammer, dangling awkwardly from the hook Tarix had given him to fix to his sash. Marick pulled at the flat leather case on his back, and Dorict yanked at the straps that bound his pole to Salick’s trident.

  Andarack held up a weak hand. “No, no! There is no need to prepare for battle, my friends.” He waved down the last flight of steps gaping darkly before them. “The demon jewel from the Glider that, I believe, you two helped kill”—he nodded at Salick and Garet—”is down these stairs, in the old ice-rooms of this manor.” He took back the lamp from Salick and beckoned them to follow.

  The Banes looked at each other. No one outside the hall was supposed to know about the jewels and their power. Salick cleared her throat. “My Lord? How did you, ah, acquire the jewel?” Her voice squeaked, and Garet felt his own anxiety rise as they neared the bottom of the stairs.

  An
darack’s answer was barely audible. “Master Relict…delivered it… on my brother’s…” he stopped talking and slumped against the wall. “Listen carefully, I can go no farther with you. Even having that cursed thing in the house has driven off all my workers except Dasanat.” He smiled weakly. “She’s a true mechanical. Nothing except her current project ever catches her attention.” He pointed to a door at the bottom of the stairs and handed Salick an ornate, brass key. “There are instructions to follow…on the table inside.” He waved off their hands. “Leave me to rest here a while and I’ll be able to go back upstairs. No doubt…Dasanat has ruined the mix by now.”

  Reluctantly, they left the Ward Lord sitting on the stairs and climbed down the last dozen stairs to stand before the door. It was made of a single plank of oak, but the door was as wide as all four Banes standing side by side. “What a tower that tree must have been!” Dorict exclaimed, running his fingers over the ancient, blackened wood. “There’s none like it these days.” Iron bolts the size of their wrists affixed its hinges to the stone wall. Salick held out her lamp to the lock, a massive affair of brass and iron, and tried the key. It turned smoothly and she pulled back on the heavy door. Garet got his fingers around the edge and did the same. With a horrible groan that tickled their stretched nerves, the door swung open and they lifted their lamps to see inside.

  Bones! Stacks of them were piled here and there in the low-arched room. Some looked almost human, but were deformed in some, subtle way. Others were monstrous, gigantic arms and legs ending in hooked claws. Skulls were stacked on the room’s single table, dark eye holes staring at the Banes, needle teeth bared in the yellow light.

  “So this is what a demon looks like with the meat off!” Marick exclaimed, stepping cautiously into the room. “I can’t say it’s an improvement.” For demons they were, the skeletons of Shriekers, Bashers, Crawlers, Slashers, and several others Garet could not immediately identify. A small hill of ice blocks, half-covered in sawdust, was stacked on either side of the door. A single piece of paper lay on the table, held down by a carved wooden box.

  “There’s the jewel,” Salick said, her breath steaming in the cold room. Walking stiffly to the table, she brushed the box aside with her trident and picked up the paper. Holding her lamp low, she read the message aloud. The room brightened as Dorict found wall lamps to ignite, bringing the piles of whitened bones into sharp relief.

  “Procedures for the Testing of Demon Protection,” she read, then stopped to look quizzically at the others. “Demon protection?” she asked.

  Garet shook his head. “I thought we were the demon protection,” he said. “But if Andarack can do all this, why does he need us to protect him?” He waved at the piles of bones.

  Marick picked up a skull of a larger demon, crowned with impressive, horn-like crests, and moved the jaw back and forth. He grinned back at it before answering Garet. “Oh, this isn’t Andarack’s work. Remember how he acted on the stairs? He’s no Bane. More’s the pity!” He replaced the skull on top of its pile. “These must have come from the Depository. I guess I haven’t taken you there yet,” he said, noting Garet’s confusion.

  “Unless there was a sweet shop nearby, or trouble to get into, I doubt you would ever have gotten around to it!” Garet replied. He folded his arms and glared at his friend.

  Salick and Dorict chuckled, glad of some humour to break the effect of the jewel’s proximity, but Marick was unfazed. “Trouble enough, it seems.” he said, looking at the piles of bones. “The Depository is where we keep the jewels of all the demons killed in Shirath. It’s in the hills to the north.” He ran his fingers over the white bones of a Shrieker’s snout, tracing the nostril holes. “There’s a deep crevice in the earth. All the jewels are dropped down there, and the bodies are left on the hill top to be cleaned by birds before they get dropped in too.”

  Salick looked at him, open-mouthed. “Do I want to know how you came by this information, information that I only learned when I became a Green?” She crossed her arms and tapped one foot, causing Marick to step back, arms raised in protest.

  “Salick, I can’t help it if you’re a bit slow!” He ducked behind the table. “Hadn’t you better read the rest of that letter?”

  Salick eyed the young Bane and picked up the paper again. “Against the walls are various objects and materials you are to use.” They looked around the walls. There, behind the piles of bones, were stacked an amazing variety of objects. Planks of various woods, shields of brass, bronze, and iron, bolts of cloth, and doubled glass frames filled with powders and liquids were neatly lined up under the wall lamps. Salick continued reading.

  “In an orderly manner, place each object or material in front of the jewel so that it blocks its sight from you. Stand then in front of the material. Determine if the effect of the fear the jewel projects is changed. If it is changed, place the material that affected it outside the door. Put objects that did not affect it back against the far wall. It is very important that you methodically test all the objects and materials provided for you.”

  “To block a demon’s fear…” Dorict said wonderingly. He reached out for the paper and Salick handed it to him. She rubbed her recently injured side with the opposite hand and eyed the objects along the wall.

  “But Salick, Garet!” Marick yelped. “If the fear can be stopped, even those popinjay Palace guards could slay a demon!” He looked terrified. “What is Master Mandarack trying to do to us?” He was shaken and reached blindly towards the table for support, only to yank his hand back when it brushed the wooden box.

  “I don’t think this is meant to destroy the Hall, Marick,” Garet told the young Bane. “I think the Master wants his brother to find out why we can’t always feel the demons now.” He looked at Salick, and after a moment’s consideration, she nodded.

  “Garet’s right,” she told Marick. “And it doesn’t really matter who kills them. But think of this: if we can’t find them, each attack could do as much damage as that Basher did last night.” Her expression was determined, and Marick wisely held his peace. “Come on. Dorict, Marick, you two bring that stuff over here while Garet and I get the jewel ready.”

  The rest of the morning they tested each material against the jewel. Between the closeness of the jewel and the cold of the room, it was an unpleasant job—and unsuccessful. Nothing produced more than a slight relaxation in the feeling of terror projected by the jewel. Thicker objects seemed to have a slight, almost imperceptible effect, but as Salick said, after shifting a heavy brass shield in front of the jewel, “Maybe it’s only what we want to feel. I couldn’t really swear that there was any change at all!” She let the shield slide and held a hand against her ribs. Garet stepped over to help, but she stopped him with a glare and wrenched the shield back into place.

  Garet was forced to agree about the experiment. In the end, they put three objects outside the door: the brass shield, a heavy tile of granite, and a glass frame full of what appeared to be grains of iron.

  They trudged up the stairs, locking the door behind them. Marick kicked at the stone slab. “If we have to wear these to fight demons, we’ll never catch one, unless they run into us.” The young Bane grinned at the thought. The door disappeared into darkness as they carried the light of their lamps back upstairs with them.

  When they came into the great hall, Andarack looked better. He was arguing with Dasanat over how much pressure to put on the ore sitting in the press. He turned as he heard them approach and smiled expectantly.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Andarack,” Salick told him. “We found only three things that might have had an effect.” She ran a hand through her hair. Being around a demon jewel all morning was exhausting. “If you have more material ready, we can try again.”

  Marick suppressed a groan.

  “No, my friends,” Andarack replied. “Not until I get the shipment I am waiting for.” He waved at Dasanat and she rolled her eyes. After another, more vigorous wave, the mechanical walked out of the
room, hands on her hips and muttering curses. Andarack pushed a set of plans showing some type of tower off the table to join the wreckage on the floor and invited them to sit. “Dasanat will bring some lunch for us.” He sat beside Garet. “Now we have some time to talk of your life in the foothills of the mountains!”

  And that is what they did. While the other Banes and an impatient Dasanat ate food purchased from a nearby wine shop, Andarack questioned Garet about every aspect of life in the foothills. He wanted the Bane to tell him the habits of every animal, the properties of every plant, and what the local farmers ate, dressed in, and used for building their houses. His curiosity was endless, and Garet began to fear that Andarack would never let him leave, at least until the first fifteen years of his life were fully described, when the guard from the compound gate interrupted them.

  “The miners’ guild has delivered those crates, my Lord,” he said. “But they won’t bring them any closer than the gate.” The young man kept a hand on his sword hilt, feeling even at this distance the brush of the jewel’s emanations.

  Andarack rubbed his hands. “There! More materials for testing.” He sent Dasanat off to bring in the boxes. The Banes helped, as it was obvious that one person could not shift the heavy loads.

  “What are these full of?” Marick demanded, pushing a crate beside the unsociable mechanical. “Rocks?”

  “Of course,” she answered. They both pushed and hauled at it until the first box was inside the great hall.

  Andarack was sketching something out on a piece of paper. “There!” He showed them a drawing of a small, flat cart, with a mast at one end fitted with a swinging arm and a pulley. “This will move those crates with a minimum of effort!”

  Dasanat took the paper and looked at it sourly. “Shall I put it with all the others?” she asked, indicating a stack of papers as tall as the wine jug beside it. “Or should I use it to bring the other boxes in?”

 

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