Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  Even without his words, Allric’s tired eyes were apology enough for her. She crossed her arms and said, “I agree with you. King Richard has proven himself a sensible man over the years.”

  Allric paled. “That’s true. But King Daniel isn’t known for his sense or intelligence.”

  Bethany gasped. “Daniel? ‘Bethany is an elvish whore’ Daniel?”

  Allric’s smile was forced. “The very one. King Richard was killed over a month ago according to this letter —” he held it up—”that I received last night. These two are letters I received this morning detailing Daniel’s belief that the Rygents killed his father using their Power. Thus, he has opened his borders to Magi to join his army to combat the evil Rygents.” He looked at Eve. “Direct quote.”

  “This is insanity!” Bethany ran her hand across the back of her neck. “One of the most powerful groups of Magi is within a day’s ride of the temple and now we have Daniel opening his borders?”

  “Yes,” Allric answered. “All Taftlin citizens are commanded to leave our allied territories before Harvest or face execution squads of Magi which will seek them out.”

  “I’d like to see him do that,” Jovan snorted.

  Allric shook his head. “I wouldn’t. We are ordering all Taftlin citizens to leave the temple.”

  Bethany’s heart sank. Arrago would have to leave. Logic dictated that it was the sensible course of action but her heart just didn’t care. She wanted him to stay. She needed him to stay.

  Allric looked at Eve. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’ve been invited to this meeting.”

  “The question has crossed my mind.” Eve’s expression remained cool and neutral.

  Allric took a deep breath and a tiny smile flashed across his face. One that reached his eyes and they sparkled for just an instant before the mask of neutrality reappeared. “I am placing you in charge of the temple’s archery patrols, since Jovan insists you remain the best we have.”

  Bethany shifted her gaze between Eve and Allric, confused. Eve leaned forward in her chair, tilting her head to the side as if she’d misheard him.

  Jovan merely sat in his chair with his mouth gaping open. “Huh?”

  Allric stood and reached down to the dusty trunk tucked against the wall corner. Its hinges squeaked when he opened it. With his back to them, he said, “Lady Eve, I assume you require a reissue of uniform and baldric.”

  A lump formed in Bethany’s throat. Chills spread through her body. She never believed Allric would reverse his dismissal. Bethany stared at Jovan, whose eyes dampened, as Allric dug through his trunk.

  “My…” Eve’s voice cracked. “My things were destroyed in the fire. And I no longer have my Blessed Bow.”

  Bethany waited for a snide remark from Allric. None came. Instead, he pulled a burlap sack out from the bottom of the trunk. ‘Eve’ was scribbled on the top of it in black paint. Now standing, he offered the sack to her, offering a gentle smile. “I held it for safe keeping.”

  Bethany and Jovan shared a quick glance before both jumped to their feet. Allric was re-knighting Eve, the only person to ever regain her commission after losing it.

  Eve hesitated.

  “Lady Eve, once a knight, you are always a knight.” Allric swallowed. “Everything is in that sack, even your baldric insignias. This is my peace offering. I’ll never make another.”

  Eve reached out and accepted the items from a former life. She did not open it. Instead, she stroked the bag as if it was a lost child. Bethany smiled.

  Once a knight, always a knight, indeed.

  Allric drew in a ragged breath and then his words poured out of him. “Bethany, I am putting you in direct charge of whipping those recruits and any other green wig we have here into shape. I need everyone battle ready and I need it now. Jovan, you will be responsible for anyone who’s completed field training. I plan to set Erem as field commander to protect the town in case of invasion from the northern border. Any objections?”

  Bethany shook her head. “Erem will do a fine job.”

  “Kiner?” Jovan asked.

  Allric looked surprised. “The assassins, of course.”

  * * * * *

  War.

  Marching back to her bedroom, guards in tow, Bethany cursed Prince Daniel—King Daniel. Never has there been a more useless, preening waste of flesh. She cursed his mother, his father, and even Apexia for ever allowing him to exit the womb.

  The clergy voted unanimously—the only way to stop Magic was to declare war against it and everyone who practiced it. By whipping up the general populace, Magic could be rooted out faster than with just soldiers. With one of the most powerful slave nations now openly allowing the practice of the dark arts, they needed all of the help they could get.

  Bethany drew comfort from the fact that the bulk of the Elven Navy was apparently arriving in a couple of days, having been dispatched from Wyllow as soon as the Council received word about Sarissa’s attacks. Another tidbit Allric had failed to communicate. No matter now. The ships would arrive, resupply, and then go north to protect the Rygent Islands.

  She sprinted up the stairs, the silk and cotton blend of her loose trousers swished against her skin. It would be a long time before she’d be able to spend her days lounging in the comfort of the new fashions. Only a few moments separated her current life from the life of war, when she would shed her identity and turn into the heartless, strong Lady Champion.

  Passing her study, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of Arrago. Upon seeing him, she realized how much she had changed since that first day of training when news of Garran’s murder had reached her. So much time had passed without her even realizing.

  “Lady Lea, have Arrago fall in,” Bethany said over her shoulder, not stopping. He could help her with her armor. She’d prefer that over a stranger.

  Flight after flight, Bethany climbed the darkened stairwells to her twenty-third floor room. There waited her armor. Her Blessed Blades. The departure of Bethany and the arrival of the Champion. She could hear Arrago in the back of the guards asking what was going on. She also smirked when one of the knights told him to “shoosh.”

  The worried looks on people’s faces were enough to know that people were whispering. Something is wrong, she almost could hear them say. It was written plainly enough on their faces, in their eyes, in the creases of their brows. Already the hallways began to fill with weapons and soldiers dressed for war. Soon, the baldric sashes would disappear and instead those insignia would be pressed into the glinting mail and steel.

  Once in the safety of her room, her heart beat faster when she looked at the gleaming armor resting peacefully on its corner cross. Arrago stepped inside with her and gave her a quizzical look.

  “War, Arrago. I need your help putting on my armor.”

  He gulped but said nothing. He inclined his head and waited for her to shed her loose trousers. She didn’t bother using the privacy screen; she had already shared everything with Arrago. She pulled on her dark brown leather trousers, worn and cracked, then slipped off her silky blouse, pulling on a brown, hemp shirt. Bethany tied the toggles of her padded tunic before Arrago buckled her into the breastplate.

  She lifted her arms so that Arrago could snap the rib brackets of her breastplate. He snapped her thigh guards into place, careful not to linger in his touch. She was grateful for that.

  He positioned her boots so that she could thrust her feet in. Two steps and she reached for her Blessed Blades on her bed. Some people called them Defenders; the swords blessed by Apexia herself to knights when they completed their entire training. The only safeguard against magical weapons they had. Other than herself, of course.

  She grimaced, thinking of herself as a weapon. But she gathered her wits and resigned herself to being whatever was necessary to save as many lives as possible. She owed the dead children of her orphanage that price.

  Bethany had gotten hers after completing the vow trials. She had spent years training and pre
paring for the moment that they would bring her to the altar of Apexia, bloody and weak and wanting to die to have the Goddess bring her blessing. Her mother.

  Now, Bethany slid both into place into the scabbards on her back. One by one, she slipped the various daggers and knives in the loops on her boots, her hips, and her gauntlets. She opted to carry her helmet.

  The image of her red hair flashing in the mirror caught her eye. Without thinking, she pulled off her gauntlets and grabbed the awkward scissors from her dagger drawer.”You don’t need to cut your hair,” Arrago begged, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Please.”

  She considered his words. She always went into battle sheered like a sheep in the autumn. Arrago would have been horrified to see her nearly bald, only tuffs of red hair here and there on her head. A weak smile tugged at one side of her mouth. She bunched her hair together and pinned it into place. For the first time, she refused to be ashamed of being a female on the battlefield.

  “It’s time, Arrago.”

  He nodded, but it was mostly reflex. Bethany was pleased he stayed silent, letting the quiet surround them. Soon, there would be a never-ending sound of death around them. She wanted to enjoy her last few moments of being the person she had so recently discovered. How she would miss that woman.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The gem of the Creator Gods, she whom stepped on the path where others could not trod, will bring hope to the world. The Diamond will be of her blood, her flesh.

  —Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet

  “Initiates! On your feet and behind me now!” Bethany stood in the middle of the west-wing dining hall and shouted orders. Her voice stunned them into silence, as opposed to spurring them into action. Bethany grabbed a stone-faced boy and threw him behind her. A thud sounded as he hit the floor. “When I give an order, I expect you to drop everything and obey me. Move!”

  That prodded them into action. The green recruits dropped mugs and bowls on the floor. Soup, rice, and fruit splattered the clean floors.

  Bethany turned on her heel and marched them to the courtyard. Her orders passed down to have them fall in with the several hundred bodies already assembled by Erem and Eve. Bethany marched to the front of the group.

  Many of the men and women in front of her still wore their beige cleric robes; barely more than children. Others sported recruit brown, meaning they had passed initiate training and now faced months, if not years, of specialized training. She felt most sorry for the elves of the group. They had not yet attended their conditioning field course; two years of near-starvation and sleep deprivation to learn how to function on the same level of sleep and food as a human. War would be hardest on them. Or kill them.

  Only once before had they cancelled a training class to put the soldiers into battle. She did not look forward to the idea of turning them into Magic fodder, but that was the price of war. All soldiers were needed. Fodder died fast, but it slowed enemy advances. The price of peace. Children, young men, anyone could make the difference between victory and joining Apexia on the wind.

  Kiner stood next to her, just a step behind. Eve and Erem stood on her flanks, well spread apart. Bethany cleared her throat. “Human females! Behind Lady Eve for further training.”

  Junior knights and various higher-ranking soldiers lined the sides of the orderly formation and shouted her command. Bethany waited for the women, some hesitant, to make their way behind Eve.

  Once the few dozen made their way into position, Bethany shouted, “All those who have been in battle before, form up behind Lord Erem and join the east battle contingent.” That brought looks of fear and confusion. She swallowed and kept going. The troops needed to be organized first and this was the fastest way to do it.

  “Who here has won a tavern fight?” Hundreds of arms went into the air. Bethany allowed herself a smirk. “Form up behind Lady Eve.” If they could be in a brawl, then they knew how to use their fists well enough. Eve could use them as part of the archery guards’ support and assistance. Fletch and carry, but necessary work.

  Bethany eyed the remaining group, still well over two hundred. “The rest of you will be assigned to me.” What she didn’t say is that some would be handpicked to go off with Kiner and the Black Hand to live in the shadows where the real work was done.

  She motioned for everyone to pull in tight and abandon strict formation. It took several minutes of feet shuffling before silence once again reigned. She signalled her junior officers to fall in along the periphery of the jagged-edge circle they had formed to relay her messages.

  “We are going to war. It is not against a country or a person or a race. It is against Magic itself. It is the viper in our bosom and we will crush it under heels of our boots.”

  She waited for the cheering and hooting to stop, shocked that she had used the word ‘viper’. She stared at the troops. Yes, Magic was the true viper. It all came back down to Magic.

  “Magi are marching on the temple. They will come like thieves in the night. They have no honor and will not face us in battle. No, they will try to slit our throats while we sleep, but we will be ready for them.”

  Bethany took a steadying breath. “As well, Taftlin has allied with Magic. They have opened their borders and are amassing a magical army. It is our moral responsibility to free our brethren from the immoral acts of King Daniel and his followers.” She waited for her junior officers to pass along the message to those at the edges of the group.

  The gasps and murmurs were unmistakable.

  “You heard right. Our own Prince Daniel, who trained alongside all of us, has betrayed us all. He has declared war on us.”

  Pacing around the oval middle in the crowd, Bethany rallied her voice. Her throat grew raw. “Today begins our first day of battle training. Your entire existence will now be to train for war. My entire purpose is to teach you how to stay alive.”

  Recruits no longer cheered. Instead, shock, horror, and occasionally naive excitement flashed across the faces she could see. All normal reactions. She looked up to the third floor of the temple and stared for a moment. Jovan saw her and ducked from view.

  She stopped pacing. “There will be a battle soon. It might be right where we stand. You’ll fight in it and some of you will die in it. None of you will see it.”

  Seconds later, an explosion shook the ground. Everyone ducked, frantically looking around. Everyone, that is, except Kiner, Bethany, Eve, and Erem. They knew the drill.

  Bethany shouted over the melee. “There’s a lot of smoke in a battle. Their black powder. Our fires. Their screams. Our screams. The black smoke from charred bodies will choke you and make you vomit. Arrows will whiz through the air, screeching the closer they get to you.”

  Another explosion, closer to the initiates, impacted the earth and kicked dust into the air. Black smoke bellowed from the impact site. Recruits stumbled, knocking each other down in their haste to escape.

  “Steady! Everyone stand still,” Bethany shouted over the third explosion. “Loud, isn’t it? That is called black powder. Miners use it. It’s also used in war.” Bethany pointed at the balcony above them. “Lord Jovan is up there throwing bags of powder on the ground. One man caused an entire battle formation to crumble. One man changed the course of war.”

  Bethany stepped back and asked Kiner to take over speaking. He was in the middle of the gory details of what black powder did to people when Bethany interrupted it.

  “You! In the front.” She pointed at a young man who sported a long grin. “The more we talk about war, the bigger that smile gets.”

  The stocky man looked around, then back at Bethany. “Me? Yeah, I’m excited, Lady Bethany. I mean, I don’t really want to kill people, but listen to all this! Fighting and pushing yourself sounds like really something. Lots of glory, I bet. I’m ready for that.”

  Bethany glared at him. “So you think you would be able to kill people then?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! It’s war. That’s wha
t you do.”

  Men like this got people killed. Sword happy and wanting to kill people, these were the first to piss themselves in a real fight.

  A smile crept over Bethany’s lips. “Yes, that’s what you do in war.”

  Bethany slid a Blessed Blade from her back scabbard and swung it at an unarmed Kiner. It sliced a clean line in his tunic. Kiner’s eyes went wide. Blood from his torso splattered nearby recruits and Bethany’s well-polished breastplate. Kiner collapsed to the ground with a thud. Red blood seeped through his tunic and mingled with the brown dust, pooling near his limp body.

  There were gasps of shock and mumbled curses. The murmurs turned into frantic, high-pitched questions. Bethany ignored them.

  She pointed her blood-smeared sword at the young man. Gone was the excited boy, replaced by a scared man. “Please, Lady Bethany,” he begged, his face splattered with blood. “Don’t hurt me.”

  Bethany grabbed him by the throat, pushing the point of her sword into the fatty area under his chin. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  Urine trickled from the crotch of his trousers, creating a mini stream that mingled with Kiner’s blood and body.

  Next to her, someone slid their sword out of their scabbard. “Leave him alone, Lady Bethany.”

  She turned and was surprised to find herself starring at the least likely person to hold a sword at her. She cocked an eyebrow. “Edmund Greyfeather? You want to fight me?”

  “Um…stop, please,” he said, stuttering. She could hear him gulp several times and sweat beaded on his forehead. “Please stop. We’re…we’re on the same side, right?”

  She narrowed her eyes and leaned her face close to his. “Didn’t I beat you to a bloody pulp once?”

  Edmund leaned as far back as his spine would allow him. “Yes.”

  She laughed and patted his cheek. Color drained from his face. She laughed more. The point had been made and she discovered that at least one had a thread of both morals and courage.