Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  “There were some leftover references to demons that didn’t fit in anywhere,” Garet continued. “Like a picture of a claw with no name under it, or a name of a demon with no description.” He saw Salick’s worried look and smiled at her reassuringly. “Well, there was a line that fit no demon in the book. It was so strange and I took so much time trying to find a match for it, that I still remember it.” He paused to get the words right. “It said, ‘This demon calls and sweetly sings, but only bloody death it brings’.”

  Mandarack nodded, and Relict said, “Yes, I remember the line, now that you quote it.” Branet started to speak but then stopped.

  “At first I thought it was a joke left by some Black or Blue, to confuse later readers.” Garet saw Relict hide a smile behind his hand. Branet smiled a bit too, and nudged Relict with his elbow.

  “If so,” Mandarack observed, “this joke precedes even my generation, for I too read that line as a Black.” He held his tea cup and stared into its steaming contents. “There is no older Demonary than the Moret, even in Solantor. Perhaps the Wheel of Heaven has finally turned far enough to let some old terror Moret knew loose upon us again.”

  “Then I may have a way to help you counter that terror,” Andarack said quietly. He stepped into the middle of the group. “My brother says that this demon can call you to come to its claws.” He hefted the helmet. “Wear it, and this demon can sing as sweetly as a desert bird and all it will get is a shield-point in its throat.”

  There was nothing more to say on the matter. Andarack requested that the armour stay with him for now so that he could continue examining the jewel. But before the Banes left, he took three more of the silkstone boxes from the table and asked Relict, “If you wouldn’t mind, Master—and it would be better if they all came from different demons, so that I can test them against each other.”

  Relict smiled. “Of course, Master Mechanical! In times like these, I’m sure we will find many demons willing to surrender their jewels just to slake your curiosity,” he said, bowing as he took the small containers.

  As they left the hall and entered the courtyard, its collection of gears and harness now muffled by a coat of fresh snow, Branet turned to block the party’s path. The tall Bane put his hands on his hips and growled, “Perhaps now that we have seen these marvels and mysteries, Mandarack, we may at last turn our attention to the very minor matter of our imminent destruction by the King?”

  “Perhaps,” replied the old Bane, walking around Branet and breaking the soft snow as he went to wake the door guard in his little shack.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CLAWS IN THE NIGHT

  The snow continued to fall heavily as the Banes left the Eighth Ward. Gonect was not there to see them off.

  “Probably sitting on Shoronict,” spat Dorict, who had taken a strong dislike to the arrogant young Duelist.

  “Don’t worry. With the beating you gave him, he’d have to crawl back to the King even if he did escape,” Marick told his friend. Dorict smiled smugly and wrapped his cloak about him to keep out the falling snow.

  The wind had died by the time they entered the Palace plaza. The gently falling flakes picked up the light of the lamps beside the Ward gates and the Temple’s pillars and spread it softly over the whitened ground. There were no tracks in the snow between their own footprints and the west bridge gate, and Garet realized that the storm would help them return unnoticed to the Hall. The guards, seeing they were the same party who had passed earlier in the evening, merely waved them onto the bridge.

  The guards on the other side were equally lax, and Marick shook his head. “Snow is the friend of both thieves and Banes, or so it seems,” he said, grinning at his friends.

  “How is it our friend?” Salick asked, brushing flakes from her eyes. Garet grimaced as a drop of melted snow trickled down inside his tunic.

  “Salick,” Marick cried, “it just got us past those guards. Maybe I should have said that it’s our friend when Banes act like thieves.”

  Garet stopped dead as they merged with another set of tracks. He knelt and touched the snow, his fingers coming away sticky. Salick knelt beside him, her breath sending puffs of steam over the footprints.

  “What is it, Garet?” she asked.

  Mandarack and the other Masters paused when they realized the younger Banes had stopped. They returned to stand over Garet and Salick as they looked at Garet’s fingers. Bloody snow melted against his warm skin and dripped back down to the white ground. Garet stood and followed the tracks back from where they had come, casting for more clues.

  “Masters,” he reported when he was done, “at least four people came here, very recently.” He paused briefly. “One of them was wounded badly.”

  “How do you know it was a bad wound?” Branet demanded.

  Salick bristled at the implication, but Garet calmly replied, “There is a lot of blood, and it has spurted out, not dripped, whenever they stopped.” He pointed at the Banehall. “They were travelling towards the Banehall from the Tenth Ward.”

  The party looked back towards the Tenth Ward Gates. The gate’s lamps were visible as a pale glow through the mass of falling snow. Mandarack signalled for attention.

  “Master Branet and I, along with Marick and Dorict, will follow the tracks to the Banehall and give what assistance we may.” He turned to Relict. “Take Salick and Garet with you and follow the tracks back.” He looked at them, his expression grim. “All three of you have encountered this new demon, so I don’t have to tell you what you might be facing. Remember your training and don’t be fooled by whatever tricks you encounter.”

  Relict took the lamp Branet held out to him. Overburdened, he handed to his friend two of the boxes Andarack had given him. “I’ll keep the one,” he said, “in case I can fill it.”

  Branet smiled. “My friend, let’s hope the beast has been prepared for you!”

  Marick began to protest about being left out, but was cut off by Branet grabbing the hood of his cloak and dragging him after Mandarack and Dorict. Their outlines quickly blurred and then vanished in the dark areas between the plaza’s scattered pools of light.

  “Come on,” Relict said. He held the lamp low over the ground so as to light the scuffed tracks even now filling with snow.

  Garet trotted beside the Red on the other side of the tracks. More and more sprays of blood appeared and Garet began to fear the worst. It was difficult to believe that a person could lose so much blood and survive. They arrived at the Tenth Ward gate to find it had been pushed open, creating a small drift of snow which prevented its closing again.

  The gate guard did not greet them, and it was soon apparent why. Salick pointed to the small gatehouse. A middle-aged woman, her leather and bronze armour torn half-off her body, lay face down in the doorway. Salick put a finger to her neck and felt for a pulse. After a long moment, she turned to the others and shook her head. Turning her over, they discovered a tight grouping of four punctures had pierced her throat.

  “A Crawler,” Relict said. He looked up, holding the lamp high and scanning the tall gates and the surrounding walls. “Keep your eyes up,” he instructed, “and listen for its movements. They hiss before they strike.” The Banemaster turned in a slow circle, trying to feel the demon’s presence. “Nothing,” he growled. “Do you two feel anything?”

  Salick shook her head and Garet did the same. The same dead feeling had fallen over the Ward, hiding the demon’s projected fear the way the soft snow covered the sound of their steps as they crossed the Ward’s small plaza.

  The tracks continued, now mere depressions in the snow, into the main avenue of the Ward. They passed the Lord’s walled manor and then the brightly painted houses of rich merchants and retainers. Soon, they were walking past the plainer entrances to the two- and three- level courtyards where the majority of the Ward’s residents lived. None of the street gates meant to trap demons had been closed. Relict ignored them as he jogged, keeping his eyes swivelling between the
ground and the walls above their heads. The tracks continued past these poorer compounds as well and finally ended in a heavy gate that opened on the storage buildings and stockyards, placed by each Ward against the outside city wall. It was also open. Relict touched the handle of the wide gate.

  “More blood,” he whispered. “Ready your weapons.” He shifted the lamp to his right hand and drew a Duelist’s sword that hung from a sash similar to the one Branet had worn. He hefted the sword, his expression showing distaste. Salick drew out the clawed baton Tarix had given her, and Garet loosed his coiled rope.

  The Master advanced as quietly as possible, and motioned Garet to close the gate. He and Salick pushed the gate closed against the weight of the drifting snow. Inside the wall, the warm smell of cows and sheep met them. They lifted the lamp as high as possible, Relict looping its top ring over the tip of his sword’s sheath and raising it to check the roofs of the nearby warehouses. Finding nothing lurking there, they continued to follow the tracks. The dead feeling continued, and Garet felt his frustration grow at being unable to locate the demon.

  “There,” Salick said, pointing at a large structure bordering the fenced livestock yards. “The tracks go in there.” She gripped her baton tightly, trying to see into the darkness beyond the building’s open door.

  “With only the one lamp, we can’t separate,” Relict said. He paused for a moment, looking over the building. “Follow me through the door, then split to the right and left,” he ordered. “And keep your eyes up!”

  Once inside the door, Garet slipped along the wall to the right. Salick disappeared over to the other side. The building was an immense barn. Stalls holding cattle ran along each of the long walls. Overhead, beams crossed and lost themselves in the darkness. Relict lit the lamps fixed to the door posts and walked forward, neck craned and eyes searching above. The cattle stood apathetically in their stalls, not bothering to moo at these late-night trespassers. The narrow route between the stalls forced the three Banes back together, and Relict waved Salick to stay near the door while he and Garet continued.

  The centre post that supported the intricate web of beams above them had another lamp fixed to it. Relict lit it and motioned Garet to stay there while he patrolled to the end of the barn. Dragging his eyes from Relict’s back, Garet strained to see the roof above him. A slight sound drifted down, like a rat scrabbling along the beams. He shifted the spiked ball to his right hand and played out enough rope to swing it at an attacker. Dust drifted down on him and the noise vanished. Was that the gleam of eyes at the top of the centre post, or only his imagination? He looked quickly to the ends of the barn. In their little pools of light, Salick and Relict were unmoving, scanning the darkness above them.

  He was just turning his face back to that darkness when the fear slammed into him. The dead feeling had been switched off like one of Andarack’s spark jars, and the barn exploded with the bawling and crashing of the cows in their stalls. He collapsed against a nearby railing, but was knocked back by the impact of a cow smashing against it from the inside. Garet fetched up against the centre post, stunned and fighting to resist the screaming of his nerves.

  Over the bellowing of the animals, he barely heard Salick scream, “Garet! Above you!”

  Without looking up, he dropped to the straw-covered floor and rolled down the central aisle towards Relict. Something hit the pillar where his head had been, and he came to his feet, hammer end of the rope ready in his hand.

  “Are you…” Salick gasped, sliding to a stop on the other side of the pillar, the hooked baton held ready for a strike. She swung her head nervously back and forth, struggling to control her breathing. Relict was beside her, sword pointed up at the shadows. The Red’s brows were squeezed down, and his eyes darted rapidly in search of the demon.

  “I’m fine,” Garet said, his voice shaking a bit. “But something almost nailed my head to that pillar.” Four close holes had been spiked into the wood where he had been leaning a moment before.

  The cows crowded into the corners of their stalls now, too frightened to do anything but roll their eyes. In the silence, the scrabbling noise came again, barely louder than the Banes’ rapid breaths. Garet pushed the fear down and tried to calm the beating of his heart. His head cleared. Beside him, Salick and Relict were going through their own rituals of denying fear. The Red muttered something over and over again under his breath. Salick twisted the baton, her breaths slowing to match the movements of her hands. The animals’ rolling eyes shone back at them in the glow of the lamps.

  “It might not attack three of us together,” Relict whispered. “You two go back to where we came in, and I’ll stay here.” He took the sword hilt in both hands and slowly lowered the point.

  Garet and Salick backed away from him, eyes still looking above them for the Crawler. As they neared the door, Garet saw Relict stiffen. Salick pulled at his sleeve. “There,” she whispered in his ear.

  Garet looked up to where she pointed with the baton. Just below the roof beams, a demon’s head, beak slightly open to reveal needle teeth, peered around the central pillar at Master Relict. A thin, clawed hand reached around the post and four dagger-like claws curved inwards to dig into the wood. It pulled itself downwards, slowly advancing on the Bane below it. Relict stood unmoving, perhaps trying to fool the demon into seeing him as a victim of its projected fear. Salick and Garet stood perfectly still, tiny puffs of steam escaping from their mouths as they waited for the demon to strike.

  When it was still twenty feet above Relict, it hissed and dropped like a stone. The Bane thrust his sword upward, but the blade bent against the demon’s leathery skin, and he was borne down by its weight. He dropped the sword and grabbed the creature’s thin wrists, trying to keep the stabbing claws from his face.

  Salick reached the struggling Bane slightly before Garet. The hooks on the end of her baton caught the creature around its neck, and she hauled the beast back. With a cry and a twist of her hips and shoulders, she flung it against the pillar. Garet was ready. He whipped a great loop of rope around the pillar, pinning the demon. Salick quickly drove the baton into its head, slamming the bulging skull against the wood and stunning it. Before the beast could recover, Garet shifted the hammer to his right hand and drove the pick deep into the creature’s throat. The heavy, curved point did what Relict’s flexible sword could not, and dark blood spurted over the weapon as he pulled it out. The two young Banes stood with weapons ready for another attack, but the demon’s eyes glazed over as it twitched into death.

  “Well killed, Banes,” Relict said, getting up unsteadily from the floor. Blood dripped from shallow scratches on his face and hands. His back and hair were covered with straw and muck. He raised his arms and held out his cloak, wrinkling his nose. “Echh! Tarix will kill me. She always says I come back looking worse than the demons.” He took off the cloak and shook what he could from it. “You two make a good team,” he said, as he reluctantly re-settled the soiled cloth around his shoulders.

  Garet and Salick grinned at each other, nerves still twitching from the battle and the renewed effects of the demon’s jewel. Relict brought out the box and borrowed a stunning hammer from the tools hanging on the back wall of the barn. The cattle pushed against the rails of their stalls, the wood groaning in protest. The Red quickly broke open the demon’s skull and scooped out the jewel. The closing of the box brought blessed relief to them all. Garet smiled when a nervous cow stuck its head between the rails to nuzzle against him for comfort. He scratched the sensitive spots behind her ears and thought of Saliat, the cow on his father’s farm.

  Salick and Relict wrapped the demon’s corpse in a piece of canvas and pulled it outside. The snow had finally stopped and the clouds had drifted off, leaving the edges of roofs and fence posts more visible in the weak moonlight. Relict hefted the demon on his shoulder.

  “You two go to the Lord’s house and wake his guards. Tell them to see to the guard at the gate and to search the Ward for more victims
.” He shifted the canvas covered burden on his shoulders. “I’ll take this through the outer gate to the fields. Vinir can take it to the Depository tomorrow.” He looked back at the barn. “From what Andarack told us, we can guess that if there was another demon, it was gone when we were able to sense this one again.” He looked at Garet and Salick, who nodded in agreement.

  “That’s what happened at the old Temple,” Salick said. Relict nodded and walked through the yards, leaving them to carry out his orders.

  Salick raised the guards by banging on the gates of the Ward Lord’s compound. They had come as quickly as possible back down the main street, their progress slowed by the many frightened people woken from their sleep by the sudden broadcast of fear. Salick reassured them as best she could.

  “No, the demon is dead,” she told them over and over again. “Go back to your beds.”

  The citizens of the Ward did so reluctantly, perhaps no longer believing that Banes would tell the truth.

  The Ward guard captain accompanied them to the plaza gate, running ahead of them on the slippery cobblestones. He turned pale when he saw the dead woman. Collapsing on the ground beside her and taking the body in his arms, he yelled at the Banes, furious in his grief, “Claws take you! How can we live if we can’t trust you anymore?” He put his head down and wept over the slain guard.

  Salick knelt beside him. “Captain, no one is more worried than we are over these attacks.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he raised a tear-stained face to look at her. He was an older man, and the sadness was busy carving new lines into his weathered face.

  “Why, Bane?” he sobbed. “Why?” He held the body closer. “This is my cousin. She honoured the Banehall, as I did. Why did you let her die?”

  Salick’s eyes were shadowed under her hood, but her voice was clear in the cold air. “I don’t know the answer, friend. But I share your grief.” She let go of his shoulder and stood up. “If it helps you to know, a Bane was badly injured fighting the demon that did this. That Bane may now be dead.”