Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  Branet’s bluff got them through the Palace-side gate just as easily. The cold had emptied much of that plaza as well. At the far end, lights winked out one after another as merchants closed up their stalls. The stage was also dark. The only sign of activity was at the Palace. Lights blazed from every window in the magnificent building. Guards packed the entrances, and, even at this distance, Garet could make out the knots of Duelists scattered among them.

  Mandarack paused to examine the distant scene. Beside them, the Temple complex showed only a few lamps lit around the pillars of the main shrine.

  “Something’s going on there,” Relict said, looking at the Palace and pulling the edge of his hood out to block the wind. “Should we return to the Hall?” The others crowded in to hear the answer.

  “No,” Mandarack said. “We could only tell Adrix that we saw many Guards and Duelists at the Palace. He could do nothing more than he has already done to protect the Banehall.” He looked at the others. “Remember that this is a distraction. We have to remember who our enemy really is.”

  The party resumed its path towards the Eighth Ward. That gate, unlike those of the other Wards, was opened a crack, as though it awaited their arrival.

  “Here you are!” a rough voice called out over the wind. Gonect appeared, a lantern held high to illuminate the approaching party. “I’ve been waiting for half the watch for you,” he complained as they filed through the gate into the shelter of the smaller plaza. “My Lord is waiting for you. Hurry! My bones tell me that there’s a blizzard coming tonight.”

  The Banes quickly walked the distance to the Ward Lord’s house and were shown into the great hall. They drew back their hoods and opened their cloaks, glad of the fires roaring in the twin hearths of the room. At the furnace opposite the entrance, Dasanat fiddled with a glass-blower’s pipe, pointedly ignoring their presence. No one else was in the room.

  Salick pulled out a chair for Mandarack and helped him off with his cloak. The others took theirs off as well, placing them on top of the tools and plans covering the table. They looked about the room, Branet and Relict taking in the chaos for the first time, the others used to it by now. A small figure came running through the entrance and skidded to a stop before them.

  “Dorict?” said Marick. “I haven’t seen you run that fast since we were Blacks!” He shook his head in wonderment at his friend’s energy.

  Dorict ignored him and spoke directly to Mandarack, his words coming out between gasps and wheezes. “Master…Lord Andarack is coming up from the ice cellar…he wants to show you…” here he stopped for a great clanking sound had grown behind him and all the Banes turned expectantly towards the entrance. At the other end of the room, Dasanat sighed and doggedly went on cleaning out the pipe.

  Whatever the Banes had expected, they were not prepared for the vision that marched slowly through the entrance arch. Andarack it may have been, or anyone for that matter, for the figure’s head and torso was covered in a bizarre mesh of brass and stone. Frames of the metal held thin slabs of rock over some sort of linked mail, giving the wearer the paradoxical look of being both angled and curved. The figure raised a bare hand, for the arms as well as the legs wore only the grey cloth of the mechanicals, and lifted the visor of the helmet.

  “There!” Lord Andarack said, breathing hard but smiling. “This armour weighs what you would expect, considering its materials.” He lifted the helmet and its neck-skirt of rasping stone off his head. His greying hair was plastered to his head. “Now then, who is going to try this next?”

  Branet and Relict looked at each other, but remained silent. Mandarack’s face bore the shadow of a smile.

  The Ward Lord took the silence as a rebuke. “It’s perfectly safe, if a bit uncomfortable,” he said, laying the helmet down on top of their cloaks. “And it will block the effects of a demon’s jewel, at least most of it.” Dorict began to help him untie the lacings under his arms that held the breast and back-plates together.

  “Most of the effects, Lord Andarack?” Relict ventured. He stroked his beard and regarded the massive helmet. “Could you please be more…detailed?” He used a cautious finger to trace the rim of shiny brass holding a stone slab on the forehead of the helmet.

  “Ahh, thank you, Dorict,” the Ward Lord said, slipping out of the armour.

  Dorict, almost crushed by the weight of the armour, frantically motioned for Marick to help. His friend stifled his laughter and rushed over to prevent a disaster.

  “The effect of the jewel is felt most in the head and torso,” Andarack told Relict. “By covering these parts with the silkstone, the fear the jewel creates is reduced to a mere unease.” He waved at Dasanat. “I myself have stood in front of the jewel, wearing this protection and have been able to think and move.” The frowning mechanical waited by the furnace, still holding the pipe. “Dasanat,” Andarack called, “bring refreshments for our guests.”

  The woman’s curses could be heard all the way down the length of the room.

  “Master Mechanical,” Branet asked, “it may seem a small point after such a great achievement, but how do you see out of this contraption?” He was holding the helmet in his large hands, looking perplexedly at the complex face plates.

  “Silkstone has a high concentration of crystals in its composition,” Andarack answered. “The small plates in front of the wearer’s eyes are a mosaic of chips bearing the largest crystals we have. The view is distorted, though perhaps fragmented is a better description.” He helped Branet slip the helmet over his head. “If you move carefully and think about what you are seeing, there should be no trouble.”

  Branet’s voice rumbled from inside the helmet. “The trouble, Lord Andarack, is that I now see several of you, which means that my confusion shall surely increase many times over!” He pulled off the helmet and handed it to Relict, who slipped it on with difficulty.

  That Master now tried to walk around the room, bumping into tables at first, but then slowing down and showing every indication of knowing where he was going. After a minute, he too removed the helmet. “Lord Andarack is right, Branet. It just takes some time to get used to it.”

  Branet grunted noncommittally. “This still does not solve the mystery of why we could not sense two demons: the one you encountered on the road from Torrick, Mandarack, and the Basher that killed so many in the Fourth Ward .”

  Mandarack nodded. “That is true, Master Branet.” He turned to his brother. “Andarack, is this silkstone a common mineral?” he asked, indicating the helmet, now returned to its place on the table.

  “No, brother,” Andarack replied, “it is not, at least not in the South.” He smiled at Garet. “In fact, it comes from the same place your parents did, the North.” He took an egg-shaped piece from his tunic pocket and passed it to him.

  The black stone felt a bit oily in his hand, as if it had been polished, though the surface was still rough. As he turned it back and forth in the glow of the lamps, a thousand points of light shone back at him from the embedded crystals Andarack had mentioned. It felt heavy in his hand. He made to hand it back to Andarack, but the Ward Lord smiled and shook his head.

  “Keep it, Garet, as a reminder of your Northern heritage and in payment for all my questions the other day.” Then he turned to the others and said, “That is the last of it, anyway. If we want to make more armour, we must find other sources for the stone, for there is not another chip of it in Shirath.”

  Dasanat returned, glowering over a pot of tea and small bowls of nuts and fruit. She placed the tray on the nearest open space on the table and scurried off before she could be importuned again.

  “What do they use this rock for in Shirath that we had any at all?” Salick asked. Garet passed the stone over to her and she rubbed it against her palm, feeling the oily sheen before handing it back to him.

  “Those who work in glass use it to polish and grind their creations,” Mandarack told her, “or did, until I collected it all.” He lowered his voice and add
ed, “That’s why Dasanat is in such a foul mood. She’s had to put off several important projects until we can import more of it.”

  A sharp clang of metal on stone seemed to confirm Andarack’s assessment as Dasanat threw the pipe against the furnace and plopped down to sulk on her stool.

  “She’ll recover,” Andarack sighed. “In time.” He turned back to the Banes. “The mystery you spoke of, Master Branet, may yet be solved,” he said, a gleam in his eye.

  Even Mandarack leaned forward to catch his next words. “This suit allowed me to examine the jewel in detail,” he said, his voice rising in excitement. “And to discover something of its properties!” He pulled a sheaf of papers from another pocket. “My first teacher, Barat of Solantor, made special jars that he filled with weak acids and certain metals. In these jars, he could capture a force that was similar to the spark that goes from your finger to the handle of a door.” He saw their incomprehension. “Surely you have all felt a stab of pain when you almost have your hand on a metal door catch, especially in dry weather, and most especially if you have walked across thick rugs to get to that door?”

  There were slow nods of agreement, and Marick said, “My mother said that those were spirits sent by heaven to remind us to be good!”

  Very ineffective spirits, Garet thought, but held his tongue when Mandarack nodded. “So our own mother told us, Andarack, when we were small. Now you say such pain can be captured in a jar. What has that to do with a demon’s jewel?”

  The other two Masters nodded and looked to the Ward Lord for an answer.

  “Ah, brother, so she did. But what our mother, nor young Marick’s mother, nor anyone else knew before Barat discovered it, was that the tiny spark that causes it, a flash of light that looks like the sparks one can strike off a flint with a piece of iron, is really a river of force. It can be stored in such vast quantities that touching it will knock a man flat on his back.” He held his hand up at their disbelief. “Before Barat died, he visited me here in Shirath and we constructed such jars together. Believe me, Banes, I was careless once and paid for it with a jolt that threw me against the wall and left me unconscious for several minutes.” He gave them a twisted smile. “Barat was furious with me because I had broken the jar in my fall.” He turned to Dorict. “Please fetch the jewel, lad.”

  Dorict turned and ran out of the hall. Marick shook his head again in wonder.

  “Such force can be moved or drained off with wires made of copper,” the Ward Lord continued. “And I have improved much on Barat’s original designs.” He waved them over to a small model of a water wheel, connected at the hub to a strange wire-wrapped device and trailing more wires from a series of glass jars. Using a wooden rod, Andarack pushed a loose copper wire onto a circle of the same metal set on the rim of the last jar. To their amazement, the water wheel began to turn, a strange, high-pitched whirring noise coming from it.

  Marick clapped his hands and the rest craned their necks this way and that to see what was making it turn. Relict got down on his knees to look under the table, but found nothing to explain the movement. He got back up, staring in wonder at the wheel.

  “Lord Andarack, surely this is a great thing under Heaven!”

  The others agreed, all except Branet, who stood back, arms folded and glowering. “Yes, my Lord, it is a pretty toy, but what does this have to do with demons?” he asked.

  Mandarack held up his hand to calm the impatient Master. “I’m sure my ingenious brother is about to get to that very point,” he said. “Is that not so?” He gave Andarack a meaningful look.

  “Of course!” Andarack said, flipping the wire off the rim and bringing the wheel to a halt, much to the disappointment of the younger Banes and, it might be noted, Relict. “If I try your patience, I must ask forgiveness, but let us then get to the point, as my elder and wiser brother demands.” He smiled and bowed to Mandarack. “I know my curiosity and distraction have always tried your patience!”

  Mandarack smiled and said, “Then it was my patience that was at fault, not you.”

  Garet looked closely at the two brothers, trying to imagine them as young children, arguing as brothers might do, but Andarack’s continued explanation brought him back to the present.

  “To put it bluntly,” the Ward Lord was saying, “the jewel in a demon’s skull works like one of these jars, storing the spark force and using it to create fear, among other things.”

  Branet’s arms dropped slowly to his sides, and Relict looked blankly at the Ward Lord. Salick turned to Garet, but he shook his head, not yet sure what to think.

  Dorict returned at that moment with the jewel, encased in a box made of silkstone. Two wires stuck up through tiny holes drilled in the top. Andarack took the opportunity afforded by Dorict’s entrance to pour tea for his guests. Garet sipped his tea thoughtfully while examining the spark-powered wheel. Salick came up beside him and whispered, “Do you think all this is true?”

  He shrugged. “In the Northern sea,” he replied softly, “there is a fish that can knock a man out of his boat in a way that sounds like the sparks Lord Andarack describes, or so my parents told me.” He looked at her. Salick’s expression was doubtful.

  “Andarack,” his brother asked while they sipped their tea, “what did you mean when you said, ‘among other things’?” The old Bane’s eyes were bright, and Garet saw the energy building in him. Sparks, he thought.

  Andarack laughed. “If you will all gather around the box, you will see what I mean.” He hooked the wires that bristled from the box to another set of jars, this one complicated by a series of levers, each connected to many wires. With great precision, Andarack pulled three of the levers and said, “I will open the box now, brace yourselves.”

  “But what about you…” Garet cried, but it was too late and he wondered why he had worried at all. It was going to be all right. In fact, everything was perfect. And then it wasn’t because Andarack had closed the box.

  Relict was leaning on the table. “What just happened?” he demanded. Branet stood, open-mouthed behind him.

  “Just a moment,” Andarack requested, and changed the levers before opening the box once more.

  This time, sadness welled up in Garet, a grief so profound that he took Salick’s hands and they both wept, their faces and collars wet with their tears. Then, as suddenly as it started, the feeling disappeared. Embarrassed, they let go of each other and turned to see the others wiping their faces and sighing.

  “Sorry,” Andarack sniffed, “but those are the only two variations I can produce with any consistency. However, Dasanat and I have stumbled on joy, anger, fear, and even, er…attraction,” he added, face reddening.

  “Have you evoked a feeling of deadness,” Mandarack asked quickly, “a lack of feeling?”

  “No,” Andarack admitted. “But that may only mean that we haven’t found the right amount of spark to project such an effect.” He untwisted the wire connections and turned back to his brother. “Based on this and your own experience, Mandarack, I think we can safely say that at least some demons can alter their jewel to change the emotions they project.”

  “But why?” Branet exploded. He waved his arms furiously, almost smashing Andarack’s wheel. “Why would a demon need to project anything but fear? What good would it do them?”

  Andarack, a Ward Lord in his own house, was not cowed by the larger man’s passion. “What good would it do them?” he asked. “It could be used to call a mate, to control others, or as we have heard, to hide from Banes!” He pointed to the box and the surrounding equipment. “I don’t know why they have this power or how well they can use it, Branet, but I know that it can exist in them.”

  Relict sat down heavily on one of the scattered chairs. “To control, eh? That maybe explains something. Something I haven’t told any of you yet.” He looked up at Mandarack. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought she might be wrong,” he said. Then he added bitterly, “And I didn’t want to give Adrix an excuse f
or demoting her even further!”

  Branet stepped beside his chair and put a hand on his shoulder. “Go on then, tell us now, Relict.”

  The usually cheerful Master nodded his head somberly. “All right. On the night the Basher killed Dalict and Shonirat, Vinir told me she saw something in the dark, beyond the Basher and just after she killed it. I was on the ruins of the floor above and saw nothing, but she claimed there was something staring out at her, something that gave off the dead feeling that had delayed us so long in finding the beast.” He looked up at Mandarack. “But it was like no demon she had ever seen, she said, for all she could see of it was a single, yellow eye, blazing in the dark.” He shuddered a bit, in spite of himself and added, “There was nothing there when I climbed down and joined her. We looked, but whatever it was, if it had really existed, was gone.” He leaned back in the chair. “And that’s when we started to feel the Basher’s jewel.” He looked at the others. “What if it was another demon? Two together, like you found near Torrick, Mandarack? And one controlling the other and hiding it from us until it was too late?”

  Garet’s tea went down the wrong way and he began to cough. This was the fear Mandarack had confessed to him the day he became a Blue Sash.

  There was silence in the room as the assembled Banes considered Relict’s words. Branet protested, “But how can we think there is a demon out there with the power to block its fear, to control other demons, and to do Heaven alone knows what else.” He rubbed his bushy blond hair. “I can tell you that no such demon exists in our Hall’s records.”

  “But it does!” Garet cried. He stood up, bumping the table and knocking over several cups.

  Salick hurriedly set them aright as Branet glared at the young Bane. “I’m not used to a Blue telling me what I do and don’t know about demons!” he growled, but Garet had no time for Branet’s anger.

  “In the Moret Demonary, Master!” he said to Mandarack. “You remember how I cleaned it up and rearranged it?”

  Mandarack nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue. Branet threw up his hands and sat down beside Relict.