“Sorry, time is short and we need to go.” Pointing toward Horgon, he summoned his father-in-law’s armor and sword. “Horgon, will you stay with Wesfazial and Wilhelm? Other than Miceral, you’re the only one in Belsport who can challenge a Chamdon.”
As Horgon nodded, a small tremor shook the Citadel. If Meglar’s wizards had made it this far this fast, Wilhelm must be their target. Motioning for Miceral to follow, Farrell moved toward the window.
“We need to get to the Door and shut it down.” Holding out his hand, he stepped off the balcony once Miceral made contact.
Around the left side of the palace, Farrell took them south. Searching for Meglar’s portal, he quickly located the magic that kept it open. “To shut the Door, I need to touch it. I’ll rebind the city once it’s gone, but unfortunately, the Door is where Meglar’s forces will be the heaviest.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Farrell felt the hint of anger in Miceral’s mental voice. “Without knowing for sure, I suspect Meglar opened the Door. It’s doubtful anyone else could have bested Darius, certainly not that fast. If he opened it, he’ll be monitoring it and will sense my attempt to take it down.”
“And?” This time Miceral was angry. “Don’t withhold information. We’re about to run into the teeth of the storm. I need to know what we’re facing.”
“Once Meglar feels my presence, he’ll not sit by and let a powerful wizard oppose his plans. I doubt he’ll expect what I’m going to do, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let me do it unopposed. He might try to attack me through the open Door or he might come here himself. It’s unlikely, however, that this is a full-scale invasion, so he won’t be prepared to come here. That means Meglar will attack from Zargon, which is only marginally better than being here himself.”
Miceral didn’t answer, which made Farrell happy. He didn’t want to dwell on what would happen if his father showed up.
“We’re almost there.” Farrell could see the glow of the Door. Figures ran in all directions, and he could hear the grunts and snarls of Chamdon as they adjusted to their new surroundings and new commands. “We need to come at the Door from the front so I can block it off while I close it. Once we get there, I need you to keep everyone off me for a minute, two at most. After the Door is down, we can leave.”
“I’ll keep them off you as long as you need.” Farrell drew strength from the certainty in Miceral’s voice.
Raising Miceral’s hand to his lips, Farrell kissed it. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Pulling their hands to his lips, Miceral repeated the kiss. “Don’t do anything foolish. Shut it down, and let’s get out of here.”
An empty space about a block from the Door caught Farrell’s attention, and he quickly set them on the ground. Human soldiers, Chamdon, and the odd wizard continued to exit the open portal.
“Straight to the Door.” Farrell pointed ahead. “I’ll clear a path for us. Just keep them off us as we pass.”
Miceral, jaw clenched tight, nodded. “Let’s go.”
Grasping his staff near the center with both hands, Farrell created a cocoon of violet energy about Miceral and himself. “This will protect you from magical attacks.” Separating his staff at the middle, he nodded to Miceral and charged headlong into the chaos in front of them.
Screaming as they ran, they startled everyone in their immediate path. Farrell crossed the two staffs and sent a sheet of energy to lead the way. For a moment, they had a clear path to the Door. The wall of force went through the Door, temporarily stemming the flow of troops into Belsport.
The pair raced past the stunned invaders, which seemed to confuse them more. Two wizard handlers sent Chamdon in the direction where Farrell and Miceral would be expected to make a stand, only to try to regain control of the confused creatures when the two moved deeper behind enemy lines.
Halfway through the gauntlet, they encountered their first real threat when several wizards fired balls of energy at them. The attacks proved more nuisance than deterrent, but dealing with them slowed their pace. This close to their target, Farrell let loose a blistering assault.
Several Chamdon who had avoided his initial attack charged from both sides. The need to reach their goal quickly outweighed the need to conserve energy for a prolonged fight, so he took a sledgehammer approach to killing the mindless shock troops.
“Get ready.” He didn’t have time to check on Miceral. “I’m going to clear a path for us.”
“Tell me when.”
The ends of his staff bristled with power as he focused his will on the platinum caps. Running made it tricky, but he’d cast harder spells in battle many times. Satisfied he had sufficient power, he forced the tips toward each other, creating a bubble of bluish energy between them. Filling the sphere with energy, he then compacted the globe before sending it ahead of him.
Halfway to the Door, he fired a blast of energy at the bubble. A shock wave of destruction flared from the sphere and washed over everything in the area. Those closest to the explosion died before their brains registered what had happened. Windows shattered, doors broke, several buildings lost walls, but most importantly, soldiers dropped. None of Meglar’s troops survived within a hundred-yard radius of the blast.
The pair used the lack of resistance to sprint for the Door. Despite the reprieve, Farrell knew his attack would bring others to investigate. Just before they reached their target, a wizard and several Chamdon appeared on the Zargon side of the Door. Though the wizard stood, jaw open, frozen in place, the company of warped brutes charged headlong at Farrell. A wall of fiery green energy erupted from his hand and seared the front third of the creatures. He then hurled the corpses back toward their handler.
Before anyone else could get through, Farrell covered the Belsport side with a sheet of flesh-dissolving energy. Several garbled screams followed by a frightened shriek told him it would be at least a few moments before anyone else attempted to rush through the Door.
Two blocks north of their position, a knot of Chamdon and a human handler turned the corner, rushing toward them.
“Keep them off me.” Farrell couldn’t spare the time to turn to look at Miceral. “If you can’t hold them, let me know.”
“Handle your task and don’t worry about me.” Miceral almost sounded offended.
Nodding without knowing if Miceral watched, Farrell probed the dark energy of the Door. It wouldn’t be long before the Chamdon attacked Miceral. He could also sense someone assailed the force field blocking the entrance from Zargon to Belsport. As he searched deeper, looking for the newest edge of the Door, he felt the first attack on the force shield.
“Whatever you’re going to do, make it fast.” With Miceral’s warning came the sounds of fighting nearby. “I see shapes coming from the west. I won’t be able to protect you if they attack from two directions.”
“Almost done.” At least, so he hoped. When he heard the sounds of fighting get closer, he redoubled his efforts, knowing he didn’t have long. The attacks on the barricade he’d put in front of the Door stopped just as a dark presence probed the energy. He had run out of time.
Dropping his staff, he grabbed the energy line composing the left side of the Door with his right hand, swung around the back, and took the other line in his left. Through his personal shields, he still felt the destructive Door energy burning his hands.
With a short burst of will, Farrell forced as much power as he could channel through the sides of the Door and let go. A massive surge of dark energy, focused on his shield, coincided with his efforts. The air around the Door seemed to buckle outward, causing distortions he didn’t need wizard sight to see.
The bulge crept forward, slowing as it moved. After it stopped, it suddenly snapped back, and the Door imploded in its wake. Anything not shielded on the Zargon side wouldn’t survive the explosion. From the feel of the attack, he hoped it had been Meglar, but he didn’t expect his father went anywhere without his personal shield at full powe
r. Pity. The bards would have sung about his death for ages if he’d died in the blast.
Success, however, did not come without a price. Despite his shields, Farrell sustained severe burns to his hands. In spots, the burns charred the flesh almost to the bone. Farrell pushed the pain aside to complete his mission. Retrieving his staff, he cast the spell and slammed his staff onto the cobbled street. Sparks flew as the metal end hit stone, and a ripple of blue-white light sped off in all directions. No one could open another Door into Belsport without his permission.
Pain lanced through his body from his damaged hands. Despite his attempt not to, he screamed. He sank to his knees, and his staff hit the ground with a loud clank.
Miceral spun around, striking a Chamdon in the face, sending it flying back into two others. Shoving his left sword into one shaken creature’s chest, he parried a blow from the other. A quick twist pushed the last Chamdon’s clumsily used sword to the ground, providing a clear shot at its head. Before the severed head hit the ground, Miceral ran back toward Farrell.
Farrell stared at the mass of raw, charred, oozing red flesh his hands had become. Almost every part of both hands had been burned.
“What in the Holy Mother’s name did you do?” Miceral’s question barely registered as Farrell concentrated on trying to heal his hands. He managed to numb the pain but nothing else. Only a master healer could fix this. Lifting his eyes from his hands to his partner, he held back the tears.
“Door energy is extremely destructive. I miscalculated the strength of my shield, and the energy ate through to my hands.” Sensing the approach of more Chamdon, he knew their survival depended on him being able to hold and use his staff. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he pushed past the agony and used his healing talent to turn off his pain receptors.
“Why would you do such a foolish thing?” Miceral tried to grab his hands, but Farrell had already encased them in a new set of energy gloves.
“The Door needed to be closed; I shut it.” The pain reduced to a memory, Farrell channeled healing energy to his ruined hands. It wouldn’t heal them, but they wouldn’t get worse either. With nothing more he could do, he reached for his staff.
Miceral stopped him. “What in Neblor do you think you’re doing? There’s no way you can touch anything with those hands.”
Using magic, Farrell moved Miceral aside to pick up his staff. “If I can’t hold this, we will die. In case you forgot, we are deep into the area controlled by Meglar’s forces.”
“You need to see a healer before I let you use that again.” Miceral reached for the staff, but Farrell’s shield kept him at bay. “I’m not kidding. Give it to me.”
“If we stay here, I won’t live to see a healer.” He spun the thick black wood in his hand. “I’ve blocked the pain and protected my hands so I won’t further damage them.”
Any further discussion ended when Farrell heard the jingle of badly fitting armor and booted feet on stone. Movement caught his eye from the street to his left, and he noted Miceral looking in the same direction.
“We need to move.” Miceral didn’t wait for Farrell to answer before heading north.
Following behind, he thanked Honorus that Miceral couldn’t see his face. In his rush to get to the Door, he’d forgotten the first rule of wizardry: always know how much power you have before you act. When they flew away from the Citadel, he hadn’t replenished his supplies. And while that still left him with more than most master wizards could store, he had already used a significant amount getting to and destroying the Door. Shielding them both and keeping a small but constant stream of energy flowing to his hands ate into his reserves.
Midway through the block, a company of Chamdon turned the corner. Upon seeing them, the snarling creatures lurched forward. With a burst of speed, Miceral moved ahead to engage their enemies.
Like a man gone berserk, Miceral tore into the Chamdon. In a blur of motion, his swords wove a deadly dance, cutting through armor, flesh, bones, anything in their way. Sending the head of one Chamdon flying off a building, Miceral spun to his left, bringing his sword down to split the last attacker from head to groin.
Wading through the blood and carnage, Farrell caught up with Miceral at the end of the street. A chill raced down Farrell’s back when Miceral turned around, a grim, determined expression on his face. Farrell grabbed Miceral’s hand to keep him from moving again.
“I’m going to fly us out of here.” Gathering his energy, he’d initiated the spell when his body exploded in pain, forcing him to his knees.
“What… what’s wrong?” Miceral’s mental scream hurt almost as much as the pain in his chest and arms.
“Stupid.” Why didn’t he think before he acted? “I’m fine now. I just forgot magic burns injured flesh when it passes through. I can’t fly us out without skin-to-skin contact, and that hurts too much for me to focus on the spell.”
“Then don’t use magic anymore.” His blue eyes glared at Farrell. “I’ll get us out of here.”
“I can use magic if I focus it through my staff.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t run out. “But I’ll keep it in reserve for now.”
They’d gone a few blocks when they encountered a staging area for Meglar’s troops. Several wizards, including two midlevel masters, conferred in the center of four large groups of Chamdon.
“Trouble.” Farrell took a moment to assess the wizards’ full powers. “There are two wizards strong enough to delay us. Let me cloak us before we continue.”
Miceral’s eyes narrowed, boring into Farrell as if looking for an answer. “Fine, but we’re going straight across, no stopping.”
He gave his lover a reassuring smile. “Agreed.”
“Stay with me.” Miceral’s expression never softened. “I waited a lifetime to find you. I won’t lose you now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Farrell leaned in and kissed Miceral’s cheek, breaking the warrior’s scowl. “You be careful too. Nothing crazy.”
Using the power from his staff, Farrell raised a cloak, aware the Chamdon could still sense them. He’d yet to figure out how, but he didn’t have the time to resolve that issue now. Carefully, he and Miceral moved past broken, empty stalls once part of a vibrant outdoor market. The open space measured twice as wide east to west as it did north to south. Two streets crossed the open area from the east. To the north, across the square, the road they used continued toward the Citadel.
Chamdon milled about, barely organized, in groups of roughly fifty. The handlers seemed to be having trouble keeping them calm. Without a target, Chamdon needed to be put to rest or they grew unsettled. Apparently this group of wizards had never dealt with the problem before.
To Farrell’s eye, the enemy appeared to be guarding the western and northern streets, the same direction he and Miceral needed to go. Despite the position of the Chamdon squads, they set off down the middle of the square, hoping to avoid contact.
Making use of the noise and confusion, the pair quickly passed the first westbound street. Miceral never deviated from his original goal—the northern exit.
“If we make it to the next street, can you bar anyone else from following?” Miceral asked.
“Easily.”
“Good.” Without turning, Miceral pointed due north of them. “When we get closer, we’ll sprint for that street. The Chamdon will sense us, but if we run, they shouldn’t be able to fix on us until we’re past them.”
They moved cautiously, keeping alert for signs anyone noticed them. Focused north, Farrell didn’t see two Chamdon wander toward them from the group to their left. When they started sniffing, a wizard turned. For a moment, Farrell thought he would order them back, but the man’s eyes went wide, and he pointed in their direction.
“They’re sniffing!” he shouted. “Just as the emperor warned us!”
Farrell separated his staff and blasted the two Chamdon, then the wizard. He hoped it would add to the confusion and give them more time to escape. “Run.”
&
nbsp; Even though Miceral and Farrell were cloaked, Chamdon and wizards began to converge on them. Running hard, Farrell dropped their invisibility when he saw handlers sending Chamdon in their direction.
“We’re visible,” he told Miceral, sending several fiery green balls at their enemy. “They’re using Chamdon to find us. I need the energy to strengthen our shields.”
The Zargonian company coming from their left abruptly stopped and ran north. Before he could try to stop them, Farrell felt an attack from the rear. Turning, he saw the Chamdon from the south moving forward, attempting to surround them. Sensing a powerful shield ahead of them, he returned his attention north. One of the master wizards had linked with several of the lesser wizards and erected a shield around the Chamdon charging at Miceral.
“They’re trying to encircle us.” He pointed his staff at the enemy and tried to punch a hole in the line of Chamdon blocking their way. The first strike caused the shield to ripple, eliciting a grunt from one low-level wizard. His second blast struck a Chamdon in the chest when the wizard took down the shield to prevent backlash.
“This wizard is better than most.” He eyed the man, trying to gauge his talent. Miceral slowed to handle the Chamdon closing on them. Farrell used the time to test the master wizard’s personal shields. They proved strong enough that he spun around to deal with the wizards behind him first.
He pushed both halves of his staff onto the ground and sent a small tremor toward the enemy running after them. The earth around the Chamdon and wizards erupted in a shower of dirt and rock. In the confusion, Farrell targeted the wizards first, taking out the other master wizard and all but one lesser mage. He quickly fired a ball of red energy that expanded into a thin line and sliced through the unprotected Chamdon as it moved. Free from an attack from behind, he returned his attention north.
Ahead of him, Miceral was prepared to engage the Chamdon headed their way when a wave of fire washed over him and the creature. The shield around him repelled the flames, but it startled Miceral enough that he flinched and came to a halt.
Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2 Page 35