Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels

by Daniel Arenson

  “You are a paladin,” Kaide said suddenly. “Your word is law to you, correct?”

  “I don’t lie, and I don’t break promises,” Jerico said. “Just not my style.”

  “Then fight for me,” he said. “Give your word you won’t leave, and you can be free to roam the forest. You alone could frighten many a knight, and to have you there in the conflict … those I left behind, they might still be alive.”

  “No,” Jerico said, shaking his head. “I won’t lift my mace for you. But I will promise to stay until I have your leave, if you’ll let me come and go as I please. You have my word.”

  Kaide didn’t look happy, and his frown looked strong enough to cut stone.

  “Some of my men worship your god,” he said. “They want you to counsel them, give one of your … whatever, sermons. Will you?”

  “You heard my demands.”

  “Fine. Give me your word.”

  Jerico stood and offered his hand.

  “I will stay, offer my wisdom, and help keep your men alive. All I ask is that you listen, and lie to me not, as I will not lie to you.”

  “Your kind can sense lies,” Kaide said. “Is that not what the stories say?”

  “They do.”

  Kaide took his outstretched hand and shook it by the wrist.

  “Then you know I speak truth. Help me, protect those I care for, and you will be no prisoner.”

  “Excellent,” Jerico said, a smile spreading across his face. “I was about to go insane cramped in here. When do I get my shield and armor back?”

  Kaide opened the door and stepped out.

  “I don’t remember saying anything about that,” he said, and winked. Jerico opened his mouth, closed it, and realized he should pay more attention to the deals he made.

  “Never was much for politics,” he muttered to himself.

  Kaide led him to the main campfire, where the rest of the men were eating. Some gave him a strange look, but most appeared happy to see him. Given how many of their wounds he tended, Jerico figured he at least deserved a bit of common courtesy.

  “Jerico has agreed to help us, of his own volition,” Kaide said to the men. “He is no prisoner, and I expect you all to treat him like one of our own.”

  “He gonna fight?” one of the burlier ones asked.

  “Can he fight?” asked another familiar voice. Jerico turned and saw Adam glowering nearby.

  “A mace and a shield,” Jerico said, grinning at him. “That’s all I’d need to get that nose of yours broken in a more appealing direction.”

  The rest laughed, and Jerico was surprised to see Adam did, too.

  “Took nearly six of us to take this bull down,” he said, smacking Jerico across the back. “And that was with a damn net to help. Better you with us than locked in a cabin like an unfaithful woman.”

  “Jerico will only be using his healing arts,” Kaide said, sounding none too pleased about it. He glanced at Jerico, and there was a spark of hope in his eyes. “Though maybe he will help in your training. There’s only so much I can teach you sods, and my training is nothing compared to what the Citadel offers.”

  “Offered,” Jerico said.

  Kaide gave him a funny look, then shrugged.

  “Either way, he’ll be giving his sermons soon, though it will be up to him when—”

  He stopped, and Jerico followed his gaze. A horse approached from the forest path, though its rider was not the soldier or bandit he expected. Instead it was a young boy, still a year or two from having the first hairs sprout from his chin. He rode to the fire and hopped down before the horse was even settled.

  “Kaide!” he cried, rushing up to the man.

  “What is it?” Kaide asked, a deathly seriousness coming over him. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Beth,” the boy said. “She, she…”

  Kaide put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, holding him still as tears overwhelmed his ability to talk. Jerico stepped beside him, and whispering a prayer, put his hand on top of the boy’s head. Calming emotions poured into him, so when Kaide spoke, he had rapt attention.

  “Listen to me, Ricky,” he said. “Take a deep breath, right now, and then let it out. Good. Don’t look at anyone else, just at me. Tell me what’s wrong. No tears. Just talk.”

  Ricky sniffed, but he stared ahead, and did as Kaide asked.

  “Beth got bit by a spider,” he said. “First Ma thought it was nothing, but it made her veins red like a strawberry, and it went all the way up her arm. Ma says we should’ve cut it off, but we didn’t, and she’s getting worse, and her hand, it’s … it’s…”

  “Enough,” Kaide said. “You’ve done fine. Tell me, wasn’t there a paladin there? Gahal, or something like that?”

  “He’s gone,” Ricky said, shaking his head. “We got no one. That’s why Ma sent me to you. She said she wants you there for Beth, before she … goes.”

  Kaide patted the boy on the head, then stood. He looked to Jerico, who didn’t even need to think before answering.

  “You know I will,” he said.

  “Your sister ain’t going anywhere,” Kaide said, motioning for another of the men to come take care of the boy as well as stable the horse. “You understand me, Ricky? Rest up, and eat something.”

  He hurried toward the southern edge of their camp, and Jerico followed.

  “You gave me your word,” Kaide said as they entered a small stable with only three horses.

  “I plan on keeping it, too.”

  “Can you ride a horse?”

  Jerico grabbed a saddle and set it atop the largest of the three.

  “Learned plenty at the Citadel,” he said, feeling a sting just saying the place’s name. “Yes, I can ride, and ride fast. How far is Beth’s village?”

  “Place called Stonahm. Six hours ride, four if we push the horses to their limit.”

  “I’d rather not kill one creature trying save another,” Jerico said as he mounted.

  “My Beth is no creature,” Kaide said, fury in his eyes.

  “Forgive me,” Jerico said, stepping back. “Then we’ll see just how strong these beasts are. My shield, where is it?”

  Kaide shook his head.

  “I’m traveling alone with you on horseback while leaving my little fortress. Let’s not test my trust any further than I already am. Now ride, you bastard, and try to keep up.”

  He kicked the sides of his own horse and bolted down the path as if the hounds of the Abyss were at his heels. Jerico whispered a soothing word to his own mount, offered a prayer to Ashhur, and then was off in chase.

  The hours passed, Kaide in the lead, Jerico trailing. They left the forest within the first half hour, bursting onto open plains like wanted men … which in a sense they were, though Jerico derived little pleasure from the comparison as he thought of it. Now without a path, Jerico relied on Kaide to lead the way. The hooves thundered below them, and Jerico prayed no animal holes or hidden rocks tripped either of them. As the day wore on, the plains turned to hills, and they wound through their centers. The grass, which had been thick and tall enough to scratch at the bottoms of his feet, steadily shrank. When the hills ended, Jerico saw the first of the farmland.

  “There?” Jerico shouted, pointing to a distant village.

  “Beyond,” Kaide shouted back.

  A shift of direction, and they found themselves on a worn dirt road. Following it, they crossed between the fields, all low-cut and freshly harvested. They stopped at a stream to let their horses drink and catch their breath.

  “Would that we could ride all day without stopping,” Kaide muttered.

  “It has to be done,” Jerico said, knowing it would be little comfort. “How old is Beth? If she’s big enough, she might fight off a bite, unless the spider was a black fiddler.”

  Kaide put his back to him, instead tending to his horse. When he said nothing, Jerico pressed on.

  “Who is she, Kaide? Why do we ride?”

  “Beth’s
my daughter,” he said. “I’ll speak no more of it.”

  Jerico opened his mouth to ask a question, thought better of it, and instead tended his own mount.

  They rode in silence, the only sound that of their horses hoofbeats and heavy breathing. In the distance, Jerico caught sight of a white line of smoke just behind a cluster of hills that broke the monotony of the fields. He glanced over and saw Kaide staring at it, and he knew Stonahm was near. The road led them there, and even if it didn’t seem possible, Kaide urged his mount ever faster. Bandit and paladin, they thundered into the dirt streets of the village.

  “Where’s Beth?” Kaide shouted at no one in particular. Already a crowd gathered, and it was obvious to Jerico that Kaide was respected, if not revered. He bit his tongue and resolved himself to say nothing. He would not judge, only listen and learn.

  “Here, Kaide!” shouted an older man, his hairline receding and his blue eyes showing hints of a murky white.

  The people parted, and the two followed the old man into a thatched hut. Inside was dark, and smelled heavily of herbs and incense. Jerico fought the urge to cough.

  “She’s been bitten,” said the man, gesturing to where a young woman slept on a bed, blankets pulled up to her neck. “I’m sure Ricky told you as much. I’ve drained it best I can, but it’s beyond my healing. I’m sorry, Kaide. I tried, I really did, but sometimes it seems like the gods seek a life, and nothing can stop them from taking it.”

  “No god will steal her from me,” Kaide said, kneeling beside his daughter. “Beth? Beth, can you hear me?”

  “Hasn’t stirred for at least an hour,” the old man said, carefully settling into a chair near the bed. “Sleeping more than me, even. Oh, hrmph, where are my manners.”

  He stood and offered Jerico his hand.

  “My name’s Kalgan. Pleasure to meet you …?”

  “Jerico,” he said. “Of the Citadel.”

  “Citadel?” Kalgan glanced back at Kaide. “Is it … did you truly find a healer for her?”

  “I did,” Kaide said, standing. When he looked to Jerico, his face was a cracked mask, the emotion behind threatening to break loose at any moment. “Do your duty, paladin.”

  Jerico stepped close to examine the girl. She looked twelve, maybe thirteen. Her hair was dark, the same color Kaide’s must have been before the early gray took over. She had a round face, large cheeks, and a hint of a scar underneath her chin.

  “Which arm?” he asked as he pulled down the blanket.

  “The left,” said Kalgan.

  He needn’t have asked. The fingers of her left arm were black and blue, the veins a violent red as they snaked up to her shoulder. All across the arm were small black lesions.

  “Black fiddler,” he muttered. Behind him, Kaide swore.

  “I thought as much,” Kalgan said, sighing. “I feared to speak it aloud, though you may think me foolish. Didn’t want to make it true by saying it.”

  Jerico chuckled at the superstition as he tried to remember details of such a bite from his time at the Citadel. His lessons on healing magic had been sparse, and mostly focused on a single detail: if his faith was strong, and the injured still alive, then anyone could be saved. Whether she would keep her arm, however, was another matter entirely …

  “Kaide,” he said, making sure he kept his voice calm. “I may ask you for something you will immediately refuse. I ask you to think on it instead, and to trust me. Can you do this?”

  “What are you talking about? Just tell me.”

  “I said will you do it?” He turned, and the stern look on his face was enough to make Kaide back down.

  “For her,” Kaide said. “Please, just … save my little Beth.”

  Jerico closed his eyes, and as he whispered the first of many prayers, he touched Beth’s arm. To his sensitive mind, it was like touching fire. He gritted his teeth and endured. He’d healed broken bones and bleeding wounds the size of fists. He would not be defeated by the poison of a spider. Light shone from his touch, and it spread. Jerico dared look only once, but it was enough to make him shudder. The light faltered.

  “What’s wrong?” Kaide asked.

  “Quiet,” Jerico said through clenched teeth.

  The healing magic danced through the flesh of her arm, like long trails of light in his mind’s eye. Everything he touched was burdened with death, tainted black. He tried to flood it with light, to give of his strength to power the healing. As with everything, there had to be sacrifice, and it came from him. He gasped at the effort. Broken limbs were just thin mendings of bone. Cuts were malleable skin. This, though, this was giving life to the dead.

  Sweat poured down his head, and he heard ringing in his ears.

  “Kaide,” he said, his voice labored. “I cannot do it. It’s been too long. Her arm’s begun to rot. She’ll live, I swear on my life she’ll live, but I must remove it.”

  “Her arm,” Kaide said. “But … no, she’s just…”

  Jerico glanced back to see Kalgan putting a hand on Kaide’s shoulder. The bandit leader swore again, then looked away.

  “Do it,” he said. “But I will hold you to your oath.”

  “Give me a knife.”

  The work was fast and brutal. Jerico had no time for subtlety. The arm was like an anchor pulling her body toward death. Fever and rot, slowly crawling upward. He cut it off at the elbow, freeing her from it. Blood spilled across the bed. When the arm was removed completely, he pressed his hands against the stump and begged to Ashhur for strength. He should have cut the arm immediately, he knew, but he’d had to try to save it first. That attempt had sapped much of his energy, so that even breathing proved difficult. Now he needed just a little bit more, for some venom remained past the cut, like an embedded thorn.

  “Not for me,” Jerico prayed. “Not for me. For her.”

  He never heard it, never felt it, but Kaide gasped behind him, as did the old man. Jerico counted to ten, then opened his eyes. Beth still slept, but already color was returning to her body. What little red that had shown in her veins was gone. Taking the severed arm, Jerico wrapped it in a bloody blanket and handed it to Kalgan.

  “Burn it,” he said. His hands shook as he held it. “Burn it, and remember why it had to be done.”

  Without a word Kalgan slipped out of the room. Unsure if he could stand, Jerico shoved himself to a sit adjacent to Beth’s bed, giving Kaide room to go to her.

  “Beth,” Kaide said, taking her remaining hand and kissing her forehead. “I’m here. Daddy’s here. You can sleep, but you aren’t going anywhere on me, do you hear? Daddy couldn’t … Daddy couldn’t take it. You’re all that’s left, all right, so you stay strong.”

  Kaide collapsed into the chair Kalgan had sat in, no doubt remaining at her side during much of her illness.

  “Was she left-handed or right?” Jerico asked, his eyes closed and his head leaning against the wall.

  “Right,” Kaide said, and he laughed mirthlessly. “Should I thank Ashhur for that small favor?”

  “How about the big one? She lives, she breathes, and she’ll love you as much now as she ever did before. An arm’s just an arm.”

  They heard commotion from outside the hut. From his time in Durham, Jerico knew that in such a small village every member would be aware of Beth’s brush with death, and no doubt word of her survival would spread like wildfire. If they had anything to spare for a feast, they’d surely prepare it now.

  “You’re right,” Kaide said after a lengthy pause. “Forgive me.”

  “Nothing to forgive.”

  Kalgan stepped back inside, and he looked much relieved to have the severed arm gone.

  “I must say, Jerico, I usually scoff at the little things others insist are miracles from the gods, but your arrival is surely one such miracle. To have one of our paladins die, only for another to come in our hour of need…”

  “Die? Who died?” Jerico asked.

  Kalgan glanced at him, raising his bushy eyebrows.
>
  “He’d been with us only a few weeks. Young lad named Galahall. Did you know him?”

  Jerico shook his head.

  “Younger than me, most likely. How did he die?”

  “Troublesome, that, but I’ve always said the dealings between gods should be left to the gods themselves. He fought a paladin of Karak, over what I’m not sure. I can only assume it was important.”

  Jerico bolted to his feet, losing his balance as he did. Kaide caught him, looking bewildered.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “The dark paladin,” Jerico asked. “Is he still here?”

  “Kren? Yes, why?”

  Jerico looked to the thin door of the hut, imagining the commotion outside. In the minutes that had passed, surely everyone in the village had heard the same story, that of a paladin coming and healing sick little Beth. A paladin of Ashhur …

  “We need to go, now,” Jerico said, but it was already too late.

  The door was kicked open, and there stood a man in the black armor of Karak, a roaring lion painted in yellow across his shield. His sword was still sheathed, but his hand rested upon it, ready to draw. Jerico stood to his full height, his right hand leaning against the wall to keep himself steady.

  “You’re young,” Jerico said, for he thought of nothing else to say.

  Kren sneered. He was a handsome man, his brown hair falling far beyond the reach of his helmet. Shadows of a beard grew about his chin.

  “You come without weapon, and without armor?” Kren asked, surprised. “Was this a ploy, or a disguise? Surely you have not cast aside your faith if you can heal the bandit’s girl. Such sad sport is this.”

  “I don’t need either to handle a young pup like you,” Jerico said, wishing he felt as bold as he sounded. “But this is a house of healing. Would you disgrace your hosts by spilling blood across this floor?”

  “Enough!”

  Kaide stepped between them, and he glared at Kren.

  “What is going on here?” he asked. “What madness draws you to challenge a man you have never met?”