Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  His mind still some distance from his body, Garet slowly turned his face up to the moon, and saw its thick crescent bright against the black sky. He felt arms come around him and heard Salick’s voice.

  “You did it! You saved him,” she whispered fiercely in his ear.

  He could feel her body shaking and drew his arms in around her, suddenly aware again of the cold, the noises around him, even the silkstone’s oily feeling left on the palm of his hand. A shiver overcame him. His muscles slowly relaxed.

  Marick clambered back up the ladder and gasped out his news. Mandarack had summoned them to the dining hall. The Masters were to choose a new Hallmaster, and decisions were going to be made about the King. They followed him shakily down the ladder, their legs unsteady on the narrow, wooden rungs. Vinir grabbed Salick’s hand and promised to meet them in the dining hall as soon as she was properly dressed. She dashed off towards the back stairs and the Golds’ rooms on the main floor, the shoes Garet had lent her leaving wet marks on the corridor floor.

  The dining hall was full of Banes talking, banging tables, or just sitting in their chairs, trying to take in the night’s events. Mandarack sat in his usual place at the high table, but the centre section was empty. Relict sat beside his wife, using a cloth to gently wipe the blood off her face while she smiled at him through her bruises. Branet slowly limped into the hall behind Dorict, rubbing his wrists and glowering happily. The big man caught up with Garet as he pushed into the hall and grabbed his shoulder.

  “Well thrown!” he bellowed, causing a sudden silence in the buzz of the hall. Mandarack looked up momentarily before turning back to argue with Bandat and Arict. Several Golds and Greens took up the call, however, and the dust was shaken off the ceiling beams with the stomping and banging that accompanied the shouts.

  Garet stood there, embarrassed beyond movement, but Salick took his elbow and led him past the chanting Banes to the end of the high table. The calls died down as Mandarack stood and motioned for silence.

  “This has been a night that will be remembered for the next six-hundred years!” he began, to nods of agreement and nervous laughter. “Never before has a King of the Five Cities attacked a Banehall. That will be remembered. Never before has a Hallmaster led his Hall so near to disaster.”

  At this, several Banes lowered their heads. Branet scowled at them, his injured leg propped up on a stool in front of him, Banerict fussing over it.

  “That will be remembered as well,” Mandarack warned. The dining hall was silent as each pondered how future Banes would judge them. “But be cheered,” Mandarack continued, “for it will also be remembered that some who had been wrong saw their mistake in time, though it was only at the very last moment that it was given to them to choose.”

  Beside Master Tarix, the Gold who had refused to attack Mandarack with his spear shivered and a little hot water spilled from the bowl he held for Master Relict. Tarix reached out from her wheeled chair and put a hand on his arm to steady him.

  “But, when all else is forgotten or changed, it will be remembered that Garet, a Blue of this Hall, by a single courageous act, changed everything,” Mandarack said, looking down at the discomfited young Bane. “And saved everything.”

  A cheer went up in the Hall. Even Adrix’s erstwhile supporters found themselves caught up in the celebration, raising their voices, building fellowship again and beginning to heal the breach between themselves and the victors.

  Garet, still not sure of how he felt about crippling a fellow Bane, hunched his shoulders and took the nearest route out of the dining hall, into the kitchen. The air was warm and moist as a few sleepy cooks, summoned at Mandarack’s orders, set about making a very early breakfast for the Hall. Garet stood there, smelling the baking bread, and the aroma of the onions and spices to be mixed into the huge pots of porridge simmering in the hearths. The cooks ignored him, too concentrated on their own tasks to worry about a Blue wandering into their kingdom. Salick caught up with him. She was alone.

  “Garet?” she began, tentatively. She stood beside him, not touching him, her eyes concerned.

  “I’m not that!” he said. The smells and noise of the kitchen seemed the only protection he had against what he feared in the dining hall.

  “What?” she asked. She moved to stand in front of him and bent a bit to look into his downcast eyes. “What aren’t you?” She still did not touch him.

  Garet took a deep breath full of the scent of bread. “I’m not someone worth cheering for,” he told her, looking up to see her blue eyes. “What I did was…” he hesitated, “…wasn’t done for cheering, or congratulations.” He stomped a foot in frustration. “If I were my father, I’d be in there accepting their praise and their drinks, bathing in that glory like a pig in a mud hole. But I’d rather be necklaced then be like… Oh, I wish no one had ever seen me throw that clawed stone!”

  A slow smile spread over Salick’s face. “No, I don’t suppose you acted for the fame of it,” she said. Then she did take his hands in hers. “You did it to save Master Mandarack.”

  “Yes…” he said, thinking for a moment. “I did. But that wasn’t a demon I hit. It was a man,” he explained. He turned back to her, eyes pleading for understanding. “When I did it, I didn’t care what happened to Adrix, and when I saw him on the ground, I felt nothing, not at first.” He wiped the moisture off his face. The great bread ovens set in the hearths had been opened to reveal dozens of brown loaves. The cooks slid in long, wooden paddles to lift them from the hot bricks and set them on wooden racks to cool. Looking at them, Garet suddenly remembered that Banfreat, the first Banemaster of Shirath, had been a baker. He wondered if the first weapon used against a demon had been a baker’s paddle.

  “Why should you feel anything for him?” Salick asked, puzzled at his words. She brushed back a limp strand of hair.

  They stood to one side as wooden trays, stacked high with loaves, were carried past them into the dining hall.

  “Because he’s a human being, not a demon!” Garet said. “He lay on the ground screaming, maybe crippled for life, and all anyone can say is ‘good throw’!”

  When the remaining cook looked up from stirring one of the porridge pots and frowned at this outburst, Garet strode out into the kitchen yard. The moon had set, but the sun was now just below the horizon, giving the baskets and carts a pearly grey sheen. It was so cold that the snow had crusted into ice, and the Banes’ feet crunched through this thin layer as they walked out into the yard.

  “But he is an evil man!” argued Salick, her hands stuck under her armpits, and her breath steaming.

  “And so is my father. And your father. And Marick’s mother who left him alone on the streets of Torrick. And how many men and women in this city?” he asked. The sky was moving from grey to the fragile blue of a cloudless dawn. “Should they all be crippled? What right do I have to judge them, to hurt them?” he spat out the words. “And what right does anyone else have to tell me what I did was right?”

  “None, I suppose,” spoke a quiet voice behind them.

  Garet turned and saw Mandarack standing in the doorway.

  “You had two choices, Garet: to act or not to act,” the old Bane said. He drew his twisted arm behind him with his good hand and took a step out into the yard. “Adrix’s crimes would have become even more terrible. You chose not to let that happen,” he said.

  Garet hesitated for a moment then nodded for the Master to continue. Salick stood to one side, watching them and shivering a bit.

  “We applaud your skill, because it is a true skill, whatever use it is put to. And we applaud your decision to act, because it shows that you are a true Bane—you protect your people,” Mandarack explained. He turned to Salick. “I do not rejoice at Master Adrix’s pain, even though I know he meant to kill me,” he told her. “He has acted in an evil way, but he has also killed many demons in his day—and bears the scars to prove it.”

  Salick’s hand went to her cheek, one finger touchi
ng the small, curved scar. “I’m sorry, Master,” she said, hand still on her cheek. “It is wrong to enjoy another’s pain, but when I saw him attack…” she trailed off. Her hand dropped and she looked at the ground.

  “I honour your concern for me, Salick. And,” he added, turning to face Garet again, “your protection. But this war with the King, and within this Hall will not be won through hate, but through forgiveness and agreement.” He nodded at them and turned to go back into the Hall.

  “Master!” Garet called. “Would you have killed Adrix if I hadn’t stopped him?”

  Mandarack paused for a long moment in the doorway and finally turned his head to answer. “Yes, if there was no other way, I would have tried. But like you, I would have found no joy in it.”

  When they were alone again, Salick shook her head and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry, Garet. Maybe I don’t understand you, either of you.” She stepped close to him and put her arm around him. “I can’t help but take satisfaction in Adrix’s pain. He got what he deserved.” She sniffed in the cold air. “I suppose I’m just more cruel than you,” she joked, but her eyes brimmed with tears.

  He shook his head and touched his cheek to hers. “No! Remember that night on the bridge? You can’t imagine how I felt when you were injured!” He took a deep breath. “If Adrix had been attacking you in the courtyard instead of the Master, I would have smashed his skull with that stone and danced on his corpse,” he said savagely.

  Looking a little shocked, Salick held him out at arm’s length and looked into his eyes. “I suppose I’m glad then that it wasn’t me he was after,” she said. She linked arms with him and they went quietly back through the warm kitchen into the dining hall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A NEW HALLMASTER

  After a quick breakfast, Garet slept throughout the day and woke again just before supper. Dorict and Marick still snored gently under their blankets, so tired from the night before that they had only pulled off their boots before dropping into sleep. He sat up and scratched his head, feeling nothing more than a great need to be clean. A fresh tunic and pants under his arm, he threw on a robe and slipped out the door. The floor was icy on his bare feet and he half skipped down the hall to the stairs. Two flights down, the common washrooms were thankfully empty. He dreaded more congratulations for his actions of the night before. Filtering through the frost on the small windows, the late afternoon light spun with dust motes when he dropped his clothes on the counter. He bent over a basin of water, picked up a sponge, and began to scrub and shiver himself awake.

  Clean, invigorated and freshly dressed, he ran back up the stairs as fast as he could, keeping his head down when he met other Banes. Not that that’s much use, he thought; his black hair marked him more clearly than any sash or uniform. He ignored any calls in his direction, rubbing at his ears with a towel to pretend temporary deafness. Marick was pushing at Dorict, trying to rouse him when Garet re-entered their room.

  “Get up, you slug!” Marick demanded, pulling at his friend’s shoulder. Dorict only grumbled in response and burrowed deeper into his blankets. With Garet’s help, Marick got him upright and then pulled the blankets out of the sleepy Blue’s reach.

  Dorict shivered and opened his eyes a crack. “Why are we getting up so early?” he grumbled. One toe touched the floor and he jerked his foot back.

  “Look at the light!” cried Marick, waving one hand towards the window. “It’s practically night again. Anything could have happened by now!” He threw Dorict’s clothes at him and scrambled into his own uniform. “Hurry up!” he said, pulling the tunic over his head. “I refuse to be left out just because I’m a Blue!”

  Towing the protesting Dorict, his two friends dashed back down the stairs to the front of the hall. There was much coming and going through the front doors. Garet could see four armed Golds standing in the slanting light of the courtyard. Someone called down from the roof, and they opened the Gate to let in a patrol of fifteen Banes, led by Relict. The Red waved to them as he entered the hall but, much to Marick’s disgust, did not pause to give them any news. Instead, the Master passed them by and practically trotted to the Records room. Marick managed to get a peek inside before the door was closed on him.

  “Master Mandarack is there,” he reported. “So is Master Tarix and Master Bandat.” He pulled them into the dining hall. “Lots of Golds too. I saw Salick there.” He smiled smugly. “At least we’ll know sooner or later.”

  Garet wasn’t so sure. Salick’s sense of duty towards the Hall was absolute. He doubted that even her new feelings for him would cause her to break trust with the Masters. As they entered the dining hall, he pushed Marick and Dorict to the back of the cavernous room, away from the other diners.

  Marick looked at him quizzically. “Does the praise you’ve gotten really bother you that much?” he asked. “Don’t worry, people will forget it soon enough.” Looking darkly at the few Masters seated at the head table, he added, “It’s the bad deeds that are never forgotten.”

  “In that case, you’ll always be a legend in this Hall!” Vinir’s voice sounded behind them. When she raised her hand to ruffle Marick’s hair, Garet saw by the flash of gold that she had been promoted to the rank she deserved.

  Tongue-tied, Marick could only grumble happily.

  “Can you tell us what’s been happening?” Garet asked Salick, who had appeared on his other side.

  “Eat first,” she said, and sat down heavily beside him.

  Vinir nodded. “Certain Blues might sleep away the day in their beds, dreaming of glory, while we Golds labour for the preservation of the Hall,” she said. “Well, at least since noon,” she added with a smile that dimpled her cheeks.

  Dorict pulled Marick away to get their food. As Garet followed them with his eyes, he saw that a certain quiet chaos raged in the dining hall. Although the Reds maintained their pride of place at the head table, the lower ranks had abandoned their sections of descending importance to sit in large, mixed groups, eating and talking, mostly at the same time. As he watched, Garet saw a Red, Pratax, come in and signal to one such group. Stuffing the last of the food in their mouths, they picked up their weapons and followed him out of the hall.

  “A patrol,” Salick explained, seeing his confusion. “Master Mandarack says that no small patrols can go out anymore.” She leaned against him slightly, and Vinir grinned at her friend and rolled her eyes. Salick glared back but moved slightly away from Garet before continuing. “Large patrols are going out to the Wards, checking each one before moving on.” She slid a hand under the table to touch his. “Another patrol comes along soon after, so that a demon can’t do much harm before it’s caught.” She paused as the two Blues arrived with trays of food. “The only problem is that it takes so many Banes. That’s why Blues and even some Blacks are going out on patrol—even if they can’t fight, they can watch so the older Banes aren’t ambushed.” She turned to Marick. “And I suppose you want to know what’s going on too.”

  “No need,” the boy replied airily, waving away her comment. “The cooks told us all that and more.” Dorict nodded, busy at his first meal of the day. Marick pushed over a plate of bread and a bowl of stew across the table to Salick and added, “Old Tarlax and his helpers haven’t left the kitchen since last night, but I think they’ve been trading sweets for information all that time.” He popped a sugar-dusted cookie into his mouth.

  Dorict finished his first bowl of stew and took up the conversation for his friend. “Tarlax says that the King has ordered that no Palace guard or Duelist cross the bridges without his permission.” He wiped his mouth and asked Salick, “Did Master Mandarack really use the jewels to drive off the king, or was it Farix doing it before the Master caught him?”

  Salick glanced around the nearest tables to make sure their occupants were involved in their own conversations. “Yes, the Master did it,” she answered reluctantly. “He knew that whoever won inside the Hall, the King’s men couldn’t be allowed
to defeat us, nor could the jewels be left anywhere Adrix and Farix could get at them.” She put a piece of bread in her mouth and spoke around it. “He told the other Masters that it was the hardest decision he had ever had to make.” She raked them all with her eyes. “That does not need to be repeated.”

  “I don’t think anyone at this table would think of doing so, Salick,” Garet said quietly. He touched her hand. Marick and Dorict nodded, and Vinir leaned over and punched her in the ribs.

  “Oww, Vinir!” Salick cried out. “That’s my injured side!” She rubbed her ribs and glared at her friend.

  “Well then, it’ll likely be some time before you insult your friends again by showing so much distrust,” Vinir replied calmly.

  Marick snickered a bit and even Dorict smiled around a mouthful of cookie. Garet put his hand on Salick’s shoulder and gave her a little shake.

  “All right! All right!” she said. “I’m sorry, but with all these plots and counterplots, I’m seeing shadows in sunlight.” She lowered her head, picked up her spoon, and ate her stew.

  Relict came into the dining room, looking around the tables. Vinir waved at him and the short Master came over.

  “Ah, Vinir,” he said, pulling at his beard, “I was looking for you.” His sharp eyes scanned the table. “I was looking for all of you as a matter of fact.” He broke into a wide smile. “And here you are conveniently gathered just for my sake.” Reaching over, he pulled up a chair from another table and sat down near the two youngest Blues.

  “First of all, I need Marick and Dorict here to go out on a patrol with my group,” he said, then held up his hand at the Blues’ excited reaction. “It may not be anything more than watching our backs while we search the Wards. But we will be crossing the bridge.” His tone turned serious. “We have been searching the Palace-side Wards for the whole day, and no one has tried to stop us,” he explained. “But night is falling, and that will doubtless make things more dangerous.” He turned to his apprentice. “Take them to get their weapons and cloaks please, Vinir.”