Thank you for reading the Child of Chaos. What follows is a preview chapter from the upcoming book, the Game of War: the Story of Dantess, Warrior Priest.
Dantess stacked the apple-filled woven basket onto the pile of supplies. He felt some accomplishment in building this monument of crates, bags, and casks. It almost covered a corner of the impressive gatehouse at the base of War’s mountain temple. He brushed his hands together and declared, “That’s the last one.”
One of the faithless workers nodded, his eyes surrounded by a black, tattooed mask. The marking made it clear that the temple had purchased his debt, so he was bound to it. Since only those owned by War were permitted inside the temple, the worker knew it would soon be his turn to start carting these supplies inside.
If allowed, Dantess would have been happy to help. He always enjoyed delivering supplies to War with his father, but wished he could have seen where his grandfather once lived and trained. Before his death, Grandpa Varyon had been a legendary priest. Dantess idolized him.
At fifteen years old, Dantess’ naturally muscular physique was well-suited to lifting and loading, but he couldn’t help but dream of more. How could anyone not be inspired by the skill and discipline of the priests of War? But, so far, he hadn’t felt War’s Longing, even though he searched his feelings every time he came to the temple. Sometimes, he felt a faint twinge that pointed where he thought War’s Gift would be, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming pull of the Longing. It was probably his imagination, brought on by wishful thinking.
“Finished unloading, eh?” Kevik, a young, hulking, clean-shaven priest of War lumbered over, carrying a lockbox. “I guess you want to be paid? Here you go.” Kevik tossed the box to Dantess.
Dantess tried to catch the small chest, but it was heavier than expected. He fumbled and dropped it.
Kevik laughed. “With hands like that, it’s a good thing you bring our supplies rather than guard our gates. You may be Varyon’s grandson, but I guess not everyone is cut out to be a warrior.”
“It was just a box. I slipped. That doesn’t mean I can’t be a warrior. Some people actually say I take after my grandpa,” Dantess’ mumbled, a little defensive.
“Do they? You think you could be a warrior like him? You want to follow in his footsteps?” Kevik eyed Dantess critically and grabbed the boy’s arm. “You have some strength, but you’d need more muscle to match even the weakest on my squad. You see?” Kevik flexed his other arm, which was loosely the size of a tree trunk. “This is what a warrior looks like.”
While undeniably large, Kevik’s arms were almost completely blank—likely because he was new to the temple. Priests of War tattooed a mark on their arms after each victory. The most senior priests looked like they had cultivated an elegant bramble field of intertwining barbs.
“Impressive,” he said. “You know, I’ve been training. If I were on your squad, I bet we could add some wins to those arms.”
If Dantess meant the comment playfully, that’s not the way Kevik took it. He snarled and squeezed Dantess’s upper arm like a vice. “You speak to me that way? A damned faithless?”
“I… I meant no disrespect,” stammered Dantess.
“Please,” interjected Dantess’ father, running from the wagon. “He didn’t mean anything. I’m Varyon’s son, and it’s obvious that you’re a fearsome warrior. It’s only a matter of time until you earn those marks. Dantess just has some crazy dreams, that’s all. He’s wanted to train at the temple all his life.” Tolliver wasn’t an imposing man. He was short, somewhat pudgy, and balding, with black thinning hair combed over his head—certainly not what people expected if they knew his lineage. But mostly, he was known for the ready smile on his round face. Now, his expression betrayed undisguised fear.
Tolliver’s speech and terrified expression calmed Kevik down. He chuckled. “He’s welcome to test and join the temple, but until then, he needs to remember his place.” He released Dantess. “Your mouth is going to get you into trouble you can’t walk away from.” Kevik strode over to the waiting laborers and commanded them to take the supplies inside. They scurried to follow his orders.
“Why’d you do that?” asked Dantess to his father. “Now he thinks I’m an idiot. And crazy, too.”
Tolliver shook his head. “Watch what you say to priests. They’re not your friends. Now, load the payment onto the wagon and let’s get out of here,” he said, warily watching the priest.
“People have said I take after Grandpa.” Dantess mumbled to himself. He paused before picking up the lockbox to twist the ring he wore around his finger. The band of silver etched with the symbol of War was precious—left to him by his grandfather when the old priest died.
When Dantess and his father reached the wagon, they found their remaining companion tapping her foot, rolling her eyes, and breathing dramatically. Jyn was younger than Dantess, but not by much, and she was stronger than most girls and smart as a whip. She competed with him for everything. Always had. But she supported him, too. Dantess appreciated it, and in the last couple of years, he found himself enjoying her company even more. It didn’t hurt that she was growing into a woman. A pretty one.
“Why are we not already on the road?” Jyn asked. “I’ve already loaded up all the empty crates from the last shipment. But you can never leave without sucking up to the priests, can you? What happened over there? I’m guessing you said the wrong thing at the wrong time again, and Big Priest Musclehead gave you the squeeze.” She chuckled. “You know, if he tried grabbing me like that, I would have pounded him.”
Dantess dumped the lockbox into the wagon. “Kevik’s a priest of War. They’re the best fighters in the world.” He winked at Jyn. “But I’m sure you could have taken him.”
⧫
Freethorn Creek was the closest town to the temple of War, but that didn’t mean it was nearby. War didn’t want any settlements too close to its defenses. Dantess knew from experience that one could make it to the temple and back home in a day, but you had to leave early and you would return late.
The road was well traveled, so people felt safe—at least, during the light of day. But it did wander in and out of the woods, and there were secluded spots preferred by those who skirted the law. At this hour, the shadows were long and hid much from view.
When the wagon approached one of those spots, Tolliver pulled on the reins and shielded his eyes from the low sun ahead. “Fallen tree. Across the road.”
Dantess knew what that likely meant: an ambush. He pulled out an iron bar he had stashed under the seat.
His father pushed him back in his seat. “Son, wait.”
“No, Da. I can do this.”
Tolliver shook his head. “Until we know what’s happening, it’s safer for all of us to stay in the wagon.”
Jyn held a sturdy stick in her hand too, but she touched Dantess forearm. “He’s right. I thought I heard movement. In the trees.”
A solidly-built man wearing a burlap sack as a mask and carrying a saber walked out of the treeline and stepped up on the log blocking the rutted dirt road. The low, evening sun hung just over his shoulder. “Good evening, Tolliver. I was hoping to find you here.”
“We don’t have anything to take,” said Tolliver, squinting. “We delivered all the supplies. These crates are empty.”
“Oh, I know. We don’t want supplies. Too bulky and heavy. If we took those, we’d have to steal the whole wagon, and that would leave you without transportation in these dangerous woods. No, we’d much rather have the payment for those supplies. We want War’s gold.”
Tolliver sighed and reached back for the lockbox.
“No, Da! You can’t give him our gold.”
“Be quiet,” shushed his father. “No amount of gold is worth dying for.” To the highwayman, he called out, “My friend, if you know me, you know that people depend on this gold. Not just my family but the farmers and bakers and craftsmen who entrusted me to ship their goods. You may not pay the tithe anymore, but some of us still have to.”
The man appeared to think about this. “Fair point. I’ll leave you a fourth. Let no one say I let honest men go into debt.”
“A fourth?” yelled Dantess. “You don’t deserve any of it!” Ignoring his father, Dantess took his bar and leapt to the ground.
“Dantess!” blurted Tolliver.
Over his shoulder, Dantess said, “You may be scared of this bully, but I’m not.”
“Tolliver, get your kid back in the wagon. I don’t want to hurt anyone tonight. We just want the gold.”
Dantess strode fearlessly toward the log. He pointed the bar at the man and yelled, “Let us through and leave us be. Or I’ll make you.”
The man dropped down off the felled tree and expelled a breath. He stuck the saber’s point into the ground and leaned on it. “Lad, there are five men with bows in the trees. They’ll kill you all and then we’ll take the gold. Don’t make me give the order.”
Dantess stopped. For the first time, fear flashed in his eyes. “Is that true? Or are you a liar as well as a thief?”
“He’s both,” said a deep voice. Kevik, the hulking priest of War from the gatehouse, walked out of the trees from behind the cart. “He only had two men in the trees. My squad has already taken them. Now he’s all alone.”
“Why are you here, priest of War?” asked Tolliver, shocked.
“We were assigned as security for tomorrow’s auction in Freethorn. I figured I’d get there early. Left right after you. Lucky I did. For you. Not for him.” He gestured to the highwayman.
The masked man brandished his sword with both hands, visibly shaking. “Let me go. Please. We just wanted to eat. We have nothing.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. No, the kid squaring off with you is none other than the grandson of Varyon. He thinks he’s a warrior. I’m anxious to see how he does in a real fight.”
“No!” Tolliver pleaded. “Dantess isn’t trained. He doesn’t even have a proper weapon.”
“Da, stop. I’m more of a warrior than you think. I’ve been practicing.”
Kevik laughed, leaned against the wagon, and crossed his arms. “Show me.” He gestured to the highwayman. “And him.”
Dantess held his bar like a sword, with his hand wrapped around one end and the other pointed at his enemy. He took a tentative step forward.
“You have to let me run,” whispered the highwayman. “There’s no way I live if you don’t.”
Dantess looked at his bar with new respect. “You can give up if you’re too scared to fight.”
“You don’t understand. It won’t matter.”
Dantess tried to recall his sparring sessions with Jyn, but this was his first real fight, especially in front of a priest of War. Nerves emptied his mind of any particular tactic, but his opponent’s hesitancy made him bold. He flicked his wrist in a quick swing. The masked man parried easily, but didn’t counter.
Dantess swung again, wider and stronger. The man backed away just enough to let the swing go by. Again, he did not attack, despite the obvious opportunity.
The boy grew frustrated and nervous. The man wasn’t even trying. Dantess could sense that he was outmatched, that his opponent was toying with him.
So he tried something different. Dantess lunged forward at his opponent’s chest, but then twirled the bar from the middle—something you couldn’t do with a sword. When the man tried to parry, the bar struck the fingers holding his saber’s hilt.
The man flinched, swore, and dropped his weapon. As he bent to retrieve it, Dantess struck the side of his opponent’s head with his metal bar, then whirled the bar around to smack the other side. The highwayman clutched his head and groaned.
Dantess grinned. Those blows had to have left the man’s head ringing. He paused and asked, “Had enough?”
The man grunted, slid his foot under the hilt of his blade and—with what seemed like a single motion—kicked it up from the ground, caught it in his other hand, and lunged forward.
Time seemed to stop. Dantess saw the blade coming straight for him. Out of reflex, he raised his hand to block the attack and the fading light of the sun reflected off of his grandfather’s ring, right into the eye-holes of the burlap mask. The flash of light caused the man’s blade to drift off course. Dantess dodged it by a hair.
Is Grandpa helping me? wondered Dantess, but he couldn’t spend the time to ponder.
Dantess decided to thrust his rod forward again hoping to disarm the man once more. Unfortunately, his opponent simply dodged the thrust and then kicked the boy in the chest, sending Dantess onto the ground. The bar tumbled out of the boy’s hand.
Kevik roared with laughter.
Tolliver stood up in his seat. “Dantess, get out of there!” To Kevik, he demanded, “You have to stop this!”
“It’s his fight, not mine. He has to learn when not to step up to someone who can put him down.”
The highwayman took one step forward and held the saber to Dantess’ throat. “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t want this to happen.”
Dantess stared at the sword’s tip and wondered, Could I actually die here? This wasn’t fun, not at all like when he trained with Jyn.
As if summoned by the thought, Jyn jumped from atop the log and onto the man’s back, screaming, “Get away from him, you bastard!” Dantess realized that she must have slipped out of the wagon and maneuvered behind the highwayman while everyone was watching the pair fight.
She put her stick around his neck and pulled. Hard.
The sword retreated from Dantess’ throat. He scuttled back to put some distance between them.
The man choked and pulled at the stick. He twisted back and forth, but Jyn did not relent. Then the man punched behind his own head, and kept punching until his fist connected with Jyn’s face. Stunned, Jyn loosened her grip. The man grabbed her hair and threw her off—but not before Jyn dug her fingers into his burlap mask. She tumbled to the ground, but did so holding onto the mask.
Everyone saw the black tattoo surrounding the man’s eyes.
Kevik’s laughter stopped abruptly. “You’re bound to War? A damned deserter!” With a single smooth motion, Kevik pulled out a dagger and hurled it. The hilt appeared between the man’s eyes and the blade’s tip poked out from the back of his head.
The lifeless body dropped to the ground.
Kevik walked over to it, put his foot against the man’s neck, and pulled his dagger free. He wiped the blood on the man’s tunic, sheathed the blade, and picked up the saber. “I should have known he came from War. You don’t see many faithless with swords like this, and he was comfortable with it. He had training.”
“He didn’t have to die,” mumbled Tolliver. “He was just hungry. And desperate.”
Dantess looked at his father in shock. “You’re taking his side?”
“Not that it matters,” said Kevik, “but he was a traitor. You see the tattoo that brands him as a runaway. He was a dead man the moment he fled the temple.”
“What he was, was faithless, with all his choices stripped from him. Tell me, where are his men? The ones in the trees?”
“Dealt with.”
“Oh? Have you taken them prisoner?”
Kevik was silent.
“No,” said Tolliver. “And they weren’t runaways, were they? Did they all deserve to die?”
Kevik scowled. “Most people would be grateful for the rescue. Perhaps I should have left you to die instead?”
Tolliver sat down. For a long moment, he just breathed. Then he said, “You’re right, priest of War. Your intervention is appreciated. Please convey our thanks to your squad. And to your temple.”
A female rider, leading another horse, approached from behind the wagon. She wore a breastplate and chainmail sleeves, as most faithless soldiers did. A black tattoo surrounded her eyes. “The forest is clear,” she informed Kevik. “The rest of the squad has already moved on to Freethorn, as ordered.”
Kevik leapt up onto the saddle of the riderless horse. “I’ve had enough of uppity faithless for one day. Let’s go.” As the horse trotted past Dantess, he called down, “You showed me something today. More than I expected. Maybe if I did have you on my squad, I could whip you into something resembling a man. Put some muscle on those arms and we’ll see. You can start by moving that tree off the road.”
The two horses leapt over the fallen tree and rode off. Soon, the sound of laughter and pounding hooves faded away.
“Da! How could you?” Dantess accused his father, pointing to the man on the ground. “He was going to kill me, and you wanted to spare him?”
Tolliver’s face darkened. “You practically dared that man to kill you! Why did you jump into a fight you couldn’t win? What are you trying to prove?”
“How was I supposed to know he trained at War? And besides, Kevik’s a priest. He wouldn’t have let him kill me.”
Tolliver pinched his nose between his eyes. “Dantess, you look up to the priests of War, but they’re not our protectors. Listen, I know these people. They protect the temples. They protect the tithe. With priests of War, it’s always ‘us versus them.’ Do you think any priest includes the faithless in ‘us’? Your grandpa made it clear that even his own family was outside of his relationship to his god. The faithless aren’t part of their religion, so to priests, we’re just not important. We are expendable.”
“Expendable? That’s nuts. Priests can’t just kill a faithless because they feel like it.” Dantess thought about it. “Can they?”
“You’re young. You haven’t seen what priests are capable of.” Tolliver sighed. “Jyn, help Dantess hitch up the horse to the log. We need to drag it off the road before we attract more bandits. It’ll be tomorrow before we get home.”
Dantess grumbled, but stopped arguing. He and Jyn wrestled a rope around some of the tree’s larger branches and attempted to coerce their horse into pulling it away. “Thank you,” he said to Jyn. “I owe you.”
“Sure do. Better remember that.” Even with a swelling eye, Jyn was beautiful when she smiled.
His father was right. It would take all night to clear the road.
Dantess hoped that was all he was right about.
Watch for the Game of War, a prequel to the Child of Chaos, coming in 2021.
Visit http://www.mysterium.blog for updates.
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