Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “It’s no secret that Miceral prefers men to women.” Now the youth turned red. “I wasn’t sure you knew. It isn’t a problem that he does, or you if you like him back. Miceral’s my friend. I just wanted to be sure you knew.”

  Farrell let the silence linger a bit longer than he had planned, and before he could reply, they reached his room.

  “This is it,” Ostert said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Thank you, Ostert. I appreciate you walking me here. And to answer your question—yes, I know about his interest. He told me. And yes, I’m interested in him as well, but I appreciate your telling me. It proves you are a true friend.”

  He held out his hand, and Ostert clasped his forearm, visibly relieved.

  “I’ll stand watch until the assigned guard comes. If you need anything, Master Farrell, just let me know.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Ostert, but I’m sure you have many other things to do before you leave. I can manage until the guard comes. Oh, a question if I may, since you asked so many of me.” He couldn’t entirely hide a smirk.

  “Of course.”

  “How old are you?”

  By the look on his face, Ostert neither expected nor welcomed the question. Standing straight up, he answered, “I will be fifty-three this spring.”

  Farrell smiled. “Just as I thought, you are near twice my age. That means you must call me Farrell. No more Master Wizard or Master Farrell. If you are my senior, I can’t have you addressing me like that. Besides, it’s unseemly for friends to use titles when addressing each other, don’t you think?”

  “Aye, Farrell.” The name came out slightly sputtered. “Sleep well. I’ll check on who is assigned to you and let them know you’re here.” Almost at a run, the Muchari left before Farrell could respond.

  He entered the room, calling up a ball of blue light to help the small candle already burning on a small table. With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the flame, adding a second globe to replace it. His gaze skimmed over the washbasin, soap, and some towels on a table near the door and zoomed in on the bed. By the Six, he was tired.

  Reaching over his shoulder, he freed his staff, placed it near the bed, and began to undress. Only after he removed his boots did he realize he hadn’t packed spare clothes.

  For a moment he considered asking Ostert to find him something to wear but remembered the open Door. Closing his eyes, he “saw” his silk sleeping clothes, a couple of tunics, and an extra pair of pants in his wardrobe in Haven. He intoned the spell, and his clothes sat neatly folded on his bed when he opened his eyes. Problem solved, he undressed, washed up, and crawled under the covers.

  His head barely hit the pillow before he fell asleep. The effort of the day finally overwhelmed his desire to remain awake.

  “Farrell.” He sat up with a start. Had he imagined someone calling him? How long had he been asleep? Shaking himself alert, he scanned his room for the speaker.

  “Farrell.” Awake, he recognized Nerti’s voice.

  “Nerti! Is something wrong?” Instinctively, he scanned the shield and the Door but found nothing amiss.

  “Nothing is wrong. Miceral wanted to know if you were awake, and if you needed anything.”

  Relieved, he smiled as his head sank into his pillow. “Please don’t take offense, but isn’t passing a message from Miceral to me a bit unworthy of you? Why didn’t he come ask me himself?”

  “I said as much to him, but I will forgive him. This is his first time being enamored with someone. As for why he did not come himself, he feared waking you if you were asleep.”

  “And yet he has no problem letting you wake me.” The sound of his laughter broke the silence.

  “Now that you are awake, do you require anything?”

  Other than Miceral appearing at his door, he couldn’t think of anything. “No, I’m fine. Tell him thank you for his concern.”

  “That is most certainly not the answer he was hoping for.”

  “Do I detect you’re trying to give me advice on how to handle this?”

  “Yes. At my age, I am well-suited to dispense advice to love-struck children, which you both surely are.” The amusement in her tone made him feel foolish.

  “Um, tell him that an escort to breakfast would be nice. Is that better?”

  “Prince of Yar-del, do you tease him purposely?”

  “No, I just don’t need anything right now.” Nothing he could or would tell her. “Why don’t you just tell me what to say, and I’ll follow your sage counsel?”

  “I shall tell him you are tired and need only some rest, but that you would be pleased if he could fetch you for breakfast.” She left his mind, leaving him confused. Slowly, he fell back asleep before his head exploded trying to figure out what to do or say.

  A LOUD, persistent knock intruded on Farrell’s sleep. Head sunk comfortably in his pillow, he had no desire to get up. “Go away, Lisle, it’s too early.”

  Another knock, this one louder, and the door swung open.

  “Time to get up, sleepy wizard.” The voice jolted him awake and he sent the sheets flying off the small bed. Oh, Miceral. He blushed, letting go of the spell balled in his hand.

  “Sorry I startled you, but the morning meal will be over soon, and I don’t want to miss a chance to walk in with you on my arm.”

  Farrell dropped back onto his pillow and pulled the ends up over his ears. “How can it be morning already? I just went to sleep.”

  He tossed the pillow aside and went to the washbasin. A few words and a wave of his hand emptied the water from last night. Pouring the remainder of the pitcher into the bowl, Farrell dunked his head in the water.

  “Whoa, but that’s cold,” he said, water dripping down his back. Using both hands, he pushed wet hair off his face.

  Miceral jumped back, laughing, and handed him a towel. “That’s one way to wake up, I suppose.”

  Still wet, he noted Miceral showed no signs of leaving. Rather than seem prudish, he shucked his wet sleep shirt and pants and toweled off as best he could before dressing. Looking in the small mirror beside the door, he ran his hand through his damp hair and pulled it back in a desperate attempt to appear presentable.

  “Are you really sure you want to be seen with me? I look wretched.”

  Miceral held the door open and smiled. “Only a little.”

  The mess area buzzed with activity, but the pair managed to find a quiet spot in the corner. While Farrell ate, Miceral explained that the old and the very young had already arrived in Haven. Many of the nonessential animals had also gone or were going as they spoke. The remainder of the civilians, their possessions and livestock should pass through by sunset, leaving only the warriors to go last.

  Shoving the last bit of bread in his mouth, Farrell noticed Miceral staring at him. “What?”

  His companion pointedly looked at the empty dishes on the table. “Do you realize you ate twice what I did and more? Where does it go? You’re nothing but skin and muscle.”

  Trying to ward off another furious blush, he stacked his plates. “Were you staring when I changed?

  A deep, rumbling laugh filled their corner of the hall. “Of course. Why else didn’t I step outside?”

  The offhand way he said it coupled with the broad grin had Farrell smiling in return. “Lecherous old man.”

  Miceral bowed. “Guilty.”

  “Magic, especially high magic, is draining.” Standing, Farrell carried his plates back to the cleaning area. “I can eat that and more and still not gain weight.”

  “Okay, back up a little. High magic?”

  As they made for the exit, Farrell tentatively reached for Miceral’s hand. The smile his attempt earned him mirrored his own.

  “I’ll explain later. Right now I need to send a message to my mentors.” He couldn’t put it off any longer.

  “Something wrong?” Despite his obvious concern, Miceral didn’t release his hand.

  “No, nothing like that. They
run Haven when I’m gone. I need to see that all is running smoothly.”

  Miceral motioned to a guard, who nodded and fell in behind them. “Prepare a message, and I’ll see it will be passed into the right hands.”

  He wrote out the note and handed it to Miceral. “I suppose you need to get back to the evacuation,” Farrell said, trying not to sound disappointed.

  A strand of blond hair flopped onto Miceral’s cheek as he nodded. “Yes, I probably should.”

  “Will I see you before lunch?” Too desperate? By the Six, he acted like a love-struck child.

  Miceral leaned forward and snatched a quick kiss. “If it’s possible. If not, I’ll make certain to meet you for dinner.”

  Alone again, Farrell squeezed his way into the Great Hall, apologizing for his intrusion. Someone started to say something about waiting his turn, but the comment died on his lips when the two made eye contact.

  Halfway into the room, Ostert approached, a purpose to his step. “Horgon requested I act as your escort,” he said. “Well, I volunteered when I learned he was going to assign someone to you.”

  “Your timing could not have been better, friend.” He clapped Ostert on the shoulder. “I need to go outside to inspect the strength of the shield. Could you please show me to the front gate?”

  Ostert smiled. “Easily done, friend.” He motioned with his right hand and turned without waiting to see if Farrell followed.

  The pair had to swim against the current of people trying to depart, but once clear of the area around the Great Hall, they had little trouble.

  “Ostert, I’m going to need to hide myself from Meglar’s forces,” he said. “I want to take a closer look at the staff and find out what his army is doing. You don’t need to accompany me, but if you wish to come with me, you’ll need to stand as close to me as you can so my spell will hide you as well.”

  “I would be a poor soldier if I left my charge while on duty.”

  Farrell regarded Ostert, unsure if he’d insulted him. “The choice is yours, but either you hold my hand or stay no more than a hand’s width away while we are outside. The closer you are, the less effort it takes to hide us.”

  Ostert laughed in response. “As I said before, our people do not have a problem with same-sex pairings, Lord Horgon’s reaction notwithstanding. Being completely honest with you, I’m not the least bit attracted to you in that way. I have someone whom I wish to join with, and she has agreed to my request. If it’s best to hold your hand to do my job, I’m not going to shy away.” His face took a playful turn. “It is only your hand I have to hold, isn’t it?”

  Farrell roared in laughter, then flushed slightly. “You may grip my arm or shoulder if you would be more comfortable, but holding my hand would be best to ensure we don’t lose contact.”

  “Then cast your spell, Wizard.” The warrior’s face turned serious. “When you’re done, will we be able to see each other?”

  “A fair question. So long as you maintain contact with me, you will be able to see me and I you.” He reached out with his left hand. “If you please. Once the spell is in place, it will be a lot harder to join hands.”

  Hands linked, he extended his will, rendering them invisible. Satisfied with the spell, he let Nerti know his plan, and the two set off, exiting into a bright spring day.

  It took a few minutes to reach the shield. Farrell placed his free hand on the wood and noted the pulse of the energy remained as strong as when he’d put it there. Thus far, it drew enough energy from the surrounding area to replenish itself. Barring a major offensive from Meglar, the staff should be able to protect them as long as needed.

  Moving toward a large rock not far from the edge of the shield, Farrell sat down to observe their enemy more closely.

  “How fares the shield?” Ostert whispered.

  Farrell kept his focus on the army on the other side of the wall of energy. “You may speak normally. The spell hides voices as well.”

  His companion smiled. “I didn’t think to ask until we were outside. When you kept quiet, I assumed it was necessary.”

  He gave the warrior a small shrug. “My apologies. To answer your question, it is holding as hoped. Meglar will need to replace the wizards we killed yesterday before he can mount a serious assault. That’s not to say if Meglar showed up in person, he couldn’t easily overpower it.”

  Scanning the enemy camp, he shook his head. “So far, the few wizards I see among their ranks are mostly of the lowest level, the type generally used as handlers.”

  Ostert peered intently at the opposing army. “The creatures look asleep.”

  Not wanting to insult his new friend, Farrell asked, “Do you know the origin of Chamdon?”

  Ostert shook his head. “Only that they are created by Meglar.”

  “Chamdon were once human. Meglar warped them into what you see using dark magic. He increases their speed and strength by compressing their life expectancy. Our information tells us that Chamdon are stronger than humans by an order of four or five. He is able to achieve this by taking one or two days off their life expectancy for every hour they live. Because of this, Chamdon burn out rapidly. In down times like this, they’re put into hibernation to extend their lives.”

  “Are things well between you and Miceral?”

  Farrell laughed, blushing at the question. “That was random.”

  Staring at the rock, Ostert didn’t meet Farrell’s gaze. “I haven’t seen you two together since last night.”

  “We’re fine, thank you for your concern.” Farrell looked off, not focusing on anything. “Though a part of me wonders if this is a wise relationship to begin. My life is fraught with danger that threatens to take me from him at a moment’s notice.”

  “Farrell, forgive me for saying this, but you’re being foolish.” Farrell turned to find an earnest look on Ostert’s face. “My position is much the same as yours. I’m a soldier in a time of war. Lillian and I know well the risks. But we didn’t let that stop us from falling in love and committing to each other. We can’t live in fear of what may happen, or else we might wake up one day, the awful thing we feared would be gone, and we would have nothing to show for it but regrets.

  “Miceral was my training instructor, and I consider him a friend. I may not be his best friend, but he is mine. That may sound foolish or make me seem simple, but it’s still true. When I needed a friend, I turned to him, and he was always there for me. I suppose what I’m saying is, he’s worth the risk. If you really are the one he has been waiting for, you would be a fool to let him slip away.”

  Farrell chewed on the advice. Nodding several times, he smiled, still looking ahead. “Your words are wise and well-spoken, Ostert. I know in my heart you’re right, but I still fear the future. You and Lillian will be an example for me whenever I feel doubt creeping back. Thank you.”

  “It’s what friends do for each other.” Ostert’s grin made Farrell laugh.

  “Yes, that is indeed what friends do.” He scanned the enemy camp again. Finding nothing new, he said, “There’s nothing more to see here. Let’s go back and see if my friends have responded to my note.”

  On their way to the Great Hall, a messenger stopped them and handed Farrell a note.

  Farrell,

  In your absence we are occupied running the place and assisting the new people with settling in. Unless this is an emergency, we should talk when you get back.

  —W

  “Bad news?” Ostert asked as Farrell reread the note.

  “Not really, just they have a lot going on and would rather not come here unless it’s urgent, which it’s not.” His smile did little to mask his disappointment.

  “Hungry?”

  Farrell nodded. “I had hoped to meet Miceral for lunch, but I suspect that’s not going to happen.”

  “Let’s hope my company can make up for his absence.” Ostert winked, motioning in the direction they needed to go.

  Following lunch, Farrell had little to do. Neithe
r the Door nor the shield required his attention, the evacuation moved apace, and Miceral had other tasks that kept them apart. Parking himself in a corner of the Great Hall, he tried to excuse Ostert for the afternoon so he could meditate.

  “My commander bade me stay with you in case an emergency arises.” He took a position close to Farrell. “Generous as your offer is, I cannot abandon my post.”

  Stifling a sigh, Farrell sat down on the floor. “Can you sit and talk, or would that be against orders as well?”

  Joining his charge on the hard surface, Ostert laughed. “I believe it’s compatible with my duty.”

  They spent the afternoon talking about nothing in particular. At one point, Farrell created an image of Haven and Gharaha to show Ostert his new home, but when this attracted a large crowd, he dispersed the diagram and refrained from any further magic. Eventually, they just sat quietly, commenting whenever something interesting entered the Great Hall.

  Miceral reappeared around dinnertime, at which point Ostert excused himself, looking relieved. He mumbled something about needing to check on Lillian and her family.

  Left alone, they made their way to the soldiers’ kitchen. After they collected their food, Miceral motioned them away from the seating area.

  “Unless you really want to eat here, I have a more private place in mind.”

  Unsure what to make of the request, Farrell nodded and followed Miceral. By the third turn, he noted considerably less wear on the stone than in most of the corridors he’d seen. Obviously Miceral’s private place required they leave the more well-traveled hallways.

  They stopped in front of an alcove cut with a bench carved from the wall. “I used to come here when I wanted to be alone to think.”

  Wide enough for two, the seat had a ledge on either side for their trays.

  Looking far away, Miceral swept the space with his eyes. “I always expected I would get a chance to share my favorite places with you. Well, not you, but the person Lenore sent, which really is you.” They laughed at his tortured thought. “Soon, all those special places will be gone, and I’ll never be able to show you any of them.”