Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  “Will she be all right?” Arrago asked.

  “Shut up,” Lord Kiner snapped.

  Lady Bethany stared wide-eyed into the air. “Arrago!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

  A shiver scrapped its way down Arrago’s neck. He recited prayers of protection under his breath and fought to keep his supper down. He did not want to die this way.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m all right.”

  Arrago let out a deep breath and realized he had been holding it the entire time.

  “I’m all right,” she repeated. Her skin shimmered with sweat. She sat up with Eve’s help. She ran a shaky hand across her tightly braided hair to shake off the twigs and leaves that were crushed into it.

  Eve leaned forward and stroked Bethany’s face. She spoke in a language Arrago didn’t understand but it made Bethany smile weakly.

  “I may need help getting home,” she said in a whisper so low that Arrago could barely make out the words.

  “Eve?” Lord Kiner asked.

  She nodded and said, “Of course.” She put an arm around Bethany and helped her up.

  Lady Bethany glanced at Arrago. “I appear to have crushed your snack, Arrago Cedar.”

  Arrago nodded but couldn’t find the words to answer. He couldn’t even stop his knees from shaking.

  “Detain him for questioning,” the elf commanded and Arrago felt the clasp of one of the Knight’s hands around his arm once more.

  Arrago let out a long sigh and silently asked Apexia to be an advocate for his justice.

  Then his breath froze as he realized he’d never told Lady Bethany his family name.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The love of the Creator Gods who made the heavens and saw the end before the beginning will be with Her. Our trust is in Her.

  —The Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet

  From the wind, Apexia watched her eldest daughter stir. Apexia’s ability to shield herself allowed her to spy on Bethany. She rarely did it anymore. Sometimes when focused, Bethany could sense her mother’s lurking spirit and would become rather irate. Sadly, Apexia thought, the temper came from Apexia’s side of the family, so she couldn’t even blame the father’s side.

  “I may need help getting home,” Bethany whispered to Eve.

  How like her daughter to be afraid of admitting she needed help, especially in front of men. She wondered where that particular trait came from. Bethany certainly did not inherit it from either of her parents. When mortal, Apexia had loved the help of males and enjoyed batting her eyes to get her own way. Her daughter would not have approved, which brought a smile to the goddess’s lips.

  Eve slipped a supportive arm around Bethany to hoist her upright. Apexia’s feet had not disturbed the leafy plants since she remained hidden by the wind. As Bethany slowly walked towards the temple entrance with Eve close at hand, a pang of guilt rippled through her soul.

  Apexia had lied.

  In fact, she had lied to all four of her children when they had asked about prophecy. It certainly was a falsehood when she had told Torius that she did not know the correct path for Bethany. The basic tenant of Apexia’s Power was based in the lie that she did not see all. They did not know the Creator Gods, those who created her, had passed on to Apexia the ability to see the road of life winding into the future. She had even seen her own personal sacrifices and had long ago begun hardening herself against what was yet to come.

  She knew what Bethany needed to do. Apexia knew that she could not interfere directly in Bethany’s life. A nightmarish world full of Magic and hate could become reality with even the simplest intrusion on her part. All she could do was let nature take its course by adding fertilizer, as Torius once said years ago.

  It had taken more effort than her previous attempts to push pass the barriers that her daughter had unconsciously erected around her thoughts. Bethany had grown stronger than she knew. Sadness filled Apexia, knowing the hurt that Power would bring. Or, could bring, depending upon the course of her daughter’s life.

  “Detain him,” Erem said, pointing at a wide-eyed Arrago. The other knights grabbed him, ignoring his protestations of innocence.

  Apexia frowned but only for a moment. She had not expected them to arrest the boy. Predicting the future was never an exact system.

  She watched Bethany and Arrago part ways. A soft chuckle escaped her, imagining Arrago’s reaction if he could see her. She had always liked him. While losing his parents to the fever had been difficult on him, Apexia was relieved that death had waited until Arrago had nearly reached manhood. Elven literature was peppered with tales of orphaned farm boys becoming great heroes and she didn’t want Arrago to resemble a cliché from a cheap quill. If her daughter cooperated, his story would be far better than anything a scribe could conjure up for entertainment anyway.

  Seeing Bethany, hurt and in pain, tugged at Apexia’s maternal instincts more than she had expected. She missed her daughter’s company. Too many years had passed without a word between them. Even knowing the gulf of silence would someday be bridged did not make the waiting any less painful.

  Apexia swallowed back the hurt, pushing it into the soil underneath her feet, burying it. She needed to return to the spirits who rested on the wind. Their afterlife did not need to be sullied by her personal unhappiness. All she could do was hope that Bethany’s vision would push her in the right direction.

  All Apexia could do was wait and hope that she’d done enough to cause Bethany’s mind to open to the correct possibilities. Otherwise, Apexia’s very Power would be in jeopardy.

  * * * * *

  By the time they’d walked into the empty prayer room, Bethany had regained some of strength but not enough to stand without help yet. The room being devoid of chairs, Eve slowly lowered her to the marble floor. Bethany found the coldness of the marble invigorating and pressed one side of her face against it.

  “Feeling better?” Eve asked as she knelt down beside her.

  “The world isn’t spinning as fast.” Wanting to avoid talking about how she felt, Bethany said, “I didn’t know you were at the temple.”

  Eve smiled, her white teeth shining against her brown skin. “I just arrived. Jovan was in a meeting so Kiner let me slip through the back courtyard. I heard Erem shouting for help and came.”

  Bethany forced a smile through her exhaustion. She had always liked Jovan’s companion. Eve’s removal from the elven Service had created a wedge between the senior military leaders that Bethany feared would never mend.

  Eve had a way of making Bethany feel uncomfortable, however. Perhaps it was her Rygent blood, kissed by a dead god. Or, perhaps it was that even though Eve had only lived thirty-eight years, she possessed more perception than Bethany ever knew possible.

  “How is the brothel? The girls?”

  Eve flashed a sexy smile. “We have two young men with us now. You might want to stop by and pay me a visit soon.”

  Arrago holding her Blessed Blades.

  Bethany’s lunch churned in her stomach. Still memories resembling paintings overtook her senses. She tried to fight the remnants of the vision, but it continued assaulting her mind. She repeated that visions meant nothing more than possible futures, over to herself, hoping to force out the images that slowly played in her mind.

  “When I was healing you,” Eve’s words were barely audible. “I saw.”

  “You wonder why people don’t like Rygents,” Bethany choked out, not bothering to look up.

  “Visions are a gift. Perhaps you should listen to them.”

  Arrago’s lips sliding down her neck.

  “Oh, I think not.”

  Bethany pushed herself up into a sitting position, trying to chase away the disgusting images. At first, she wondered if her mother had interfered, causing the vision, but she slashed that thought. Apexia was too withdrawn, too holy to interfere. She dismissed the idea of Sarissa even faster. Her sister would have to be near to cast spells and Bethany was confident that a
ny Magic practice at the temple would be noticed rather quickly.

  “Perhaps Erem will get some information from Arrago. You might feel better knowing what happened.”

  Arrago splattered with blood.

  She looked at Eve quizzically. “What about Arrago?”

  “Erem arrested him.”

  “He did what?” Bethany stumbled to her feet, pushing against Eve’s shoulder for support. “I need to stop them.”

  “Why?” Eve asked, though she stood to support the teetering Bethany.

  Bethany waved her hand in the air to pull away from Eve’s hand of assistance. She stabilized herself by grasping the outstretched arm from a carving of her mother.

  “They’ll beat him half to death to find out he didn’t do anything to me.”

  * * * * *

  Bethany stumbled into the depths of the temple’s underground. Eve was forbidden from entering the lower depths, as she was no longer a knight.

  As painful as it was to admit, Arrago did not deserve to be beaten unconscious for something that was clearly her own fault. Her focus had been off since Garran’s death. Understandable, of course. Still, it had caused her barriers to slack and her Power exerted itself as a vision.

  She wasn’t sure if the explanation was true, but it sounded good. Visions had assaulted her in the past during periods of extreme stress. She didn’t think she had lost enough focus to have her Power bubble to the surface. Nevertheless, she could not change what had happened. All she could do was stop an innocent man from being beaten. As Lady Champion, that was her role and it was what she would do.

  Pride had exhausted Bethany, having using up the majority of her strength in the crowded corridors. She had kept her head high and walked as normal as possible. Now in the underbelly of the temple, she made full use of the slimy walls as support.

  Rarely did she venture into the underground. Having been built in and around a mountain island, a massive network of tunnels and natural rooms existed under the temple. She descended past the first level of mostly manmade caves that provided cold, damp storage. Not to mention a private location for “celibate” priests to sneak around with members of the Sisterhood.

  The second and third levels were used by the knights as a place to extract information from possible assassins, spies, and the general criminal element that found its way to the rich temple.

  Between drips of water, she heard distant deep voices echoing towards her. Following the sounds, she thought she heard Jovan’s voice but it was difficult to be certain with the dripping water and the footsteps behind her from the guards who followed her down.

  “You want us to believe that she spoke to you? You are filth to someone like Lady Bethany.”

  “What curse did you put on her to get her close to you?”

  Closer now, she could hear Arrago’s pleading voice. “I don’t know what happened to her but I did not use Magic. I wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

  She stumbled into the interrogation room, a naturally-formed cave with only one way in or out. Arrago was chained to a rock in the middle of the room, bloody and already swollen. A twinge of guilt hit Bethany, surprising her. She had beaten plenty of people senseless in the name of justice and guilt had never tried to crush her like it did for Arrago’s ragged body.

  “Stop!” Bethany shouted out, though her voice sounded foreign in the echo of the caverns. It was not the entrance she had planned, but she couldn’t bear to see the torture continue. “Leave him alone.”

  Jovan’s mouth dropped but he stepped back, as did the other guards. Anger bubbled inside Bethany. “You didn’t need to beat him like this.”

  Jovan stepped close to her and she resisted leaning against him. “Beth,” he said in a lower tone, “He was there when you collapsed. He could be dangerous.”

  “Arrago is not dangerous. Let him go. Now.”

  Jovan stared at her for a moment before nodding. “I don’t think he did it, anyway.” He motioned at Arrago’s face as a guard unchained him. “If it means anything, I did try to not break any bones.”

  Arrago rubbed his wrists when the shackles came off and snorted. She admired him for not accepting Jovan’s roundabout apology.

  Embarrassment flushed her cheeks remembering that a human saw her feeble. She needed to be in best form to not only deal with the future but also her job. The recruits needed her in top form. She berated herself for losing focus and causing the situation to begin with.

  “Thank you,” he said, bowing low in her direction.

  “Lord Eli will show you back to your training class,” Jovan said. “Since you look like shit, tell your friends that a couple of thugs jumped you. If I hear that you’re talking about what really happened, I’ll drag you back down here. Only I won’t be as kind with my punches.”

  Arrago nodded. He looked pale and was shaking. She feared how the visions would affect her treatment of him; she already felt a closeness that should have been impossible. He did not look like just another worthless human, too low and beneath her notice. Instead, she saw all of him. Inside and out.

  While she didn’t understand any of it or its meaning, her feelings had altered. Caution was necessary now.

  A crown of jewels in a puddle of mud.

  Jovan waved a hand in front of her face. She blinked. “Beth, what is going on?”

  Arrago smiling, covered in snow.

  “I just need to sleep,” she said, dabbing her moist hand against her face to cool it.

  With Erem helping her, she headed back to the upper levels where the cleaner air would be easier to breathe. She needed to forget about today.

  Rain pounding her face, standing on a boat, smiling at Arrago.

  The nonsensical images haunted her. If they had been merely a collection of clerks, marriage, and fat babies - she wouldn’t have cared. Arrago’s future scared her. It did not match the timid man she saw. The calmness of his eyes lacked the fire that she had seen in her mind. His honest smile was too innocent, too naive to stand against the flames in the rain that she saw him in.

  And, yet, that man, that stranger so calmly with his pilfered vegetable pushed past her barriers with ease. The images rolled around in her head and she wanted to scream until they escaped her. On him, she could smell trouble that would drag them all down.

  But in the chaos, she felt something even more terrifying than the scream of war she felt chasing his heels. The one thing she’d considered herself immune to. Something that could ruin her life.

  Affection.

  Her affection.

  CHAPTER SIX

  With fire and steel did the Gods forge the Diamond’s heart.

  —Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet

  For the eighth day in a row, Bethany woke up agitated. She was already dressed by the time the sun peaked its way above the horizon. She sat at her dressing table and stared in the hazy mirror, angrily braiding her hair. The dark circles under her eyes served as an annoying testament to the fact her vision had not stopped haunting her.

  It was supposed to be the good day. Working with the high-ranking Knights on defensive plans in case of a magical attack was enjoyably challenging, but her passion remained with teaching the fresh blood her old tricks. Yet, her heart just wasn’t in it now.

  It seemed the more she avoided training, and Arrago, the more miserable she became. Going to training today was not about giving into stupid visions or ignoring prophecy. It was about being a knight.

  Bethany frowned as she pushed the final stabilizing pin into the thick braids that circled the nape of her neck. Allowing herself to slip in public like that, around a human of all people, was careless.

  Focus, she chided herself. Let it pass. Affection frightened her more than any battle she had ever been in. She had no time, and certainly no patience, to turn weak-kneed over some worthless human from a backwater nowhere. She decided to use the visions as a guide to the path she would avoid.

  A final inspection revealed one curly strand ref
using to stay fastened so she pressed it into place with another silver pin. Looking at her image in the mirror, Bethany found it hard to believe that she had stopped lopping her hair off only a few years before. She once learned the hard way that her long, red hair reminded men that she was a female, less deserving of respect, and she had hacked off the strands with her dagger. Kiner had badgered her to grow it back out, but even now she braided her hair so tightly that her scalp stung.

  Someone tapped on her door and she snapped her head in its direction. “Yes?”

  “You dressed?” Jovan shouted out and entered without waiting for a response. “Beth, we’re short one person —” He eyed her outfit. “You do remember that we’re training today?”

  She glanced down, unsure if she had remembered everything. Her metal baldric with attached insignia, awards, and decorations? Check. Pants? Tunic? Yes, wearing both. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “It’s not grey! You always wear grey.”

  She sighed, though she felt a flash of heat wash over her face. With exaggerated gestures, she motioned to her clothing and said, “This color is called white.” She pulled her worn leather boots on and adjusted her pant legs. “Beyond our baldric sashes, there is no required uniform color for vowed knights. As you would know, since you voted last spring to maintain the rule. Aneese has been pestering me to wear widow weeds. This is as close as I plan to get. So, you said something about being short one person.”

  “One person. Arc’s sick. I’m assigning you to work directly with one of the training groups.”

  “I can do that. Even while wearing white,” Bethany said, smiling. She tugged at her baldric sash.

  “About Arrago,” Jovan said, forcing the words.

  “Who?” She asked in her most innocent tone. The hair on the back of her neck rose.

  “The kid, the one in the courtyard.”

  She gave a noncommittal grunt.