Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “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 considered 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. Neither 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 wi
th 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.”

  Miceral’s face reflected the loss Farrell understood so well. Meglar had conquered Yar-del, and he could not show Miceral his ancestral home either. He reached over and squeezed the big hand, smiling back when their eyes met.

  Miceral’s face brightened. “This place, however, I had to show you. This is where Lenore told me to be patient and She would send me someone special. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. Sharing this place with you gives a sense of completion to Her promise.”

  Miceral put his arm around Farrell and pulled him close. He rested his head against Miceral’s shoulder, and they sat quietly, forgetting about their food. Miceral gently stroked his head, kissing the top occasionally. After a few minutes, Farrell closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

  “We should eat.” Miceral’s voice jolted him from a near slumber. “You especially.”

  Reaching for his plate, Farrell rolled his eyes. “What, you don’t require food?”

  “Watching how much you ate at breakfast, I asked Glendora if that was normal.” He broke off a hunk of bread and handed it to Farrell. “She told me that even when you appear to be resting, you’re exerting a fair bit of effort maintaining the two spells.”

  Farrell let a smirk crease his lips. “She made you promise you’d make sure I ate as a condition for letting you take me on this excursion, didn’t she?”

  Miceral’s cheeks got the barest hint of color before he nodded. “She did, so eat up, or else she threatened to find you and watch you eat in front of her.”

  Farrell smiled and began eating. He didn’t bother to tell Miceral he would have eaten without the prodding.

  Farrell took a bite out of a piece of cold chicken and saw Miceral staring at him over a small hunk of bread. When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he put his plate down. “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” Miceral seemed startled by the question. “No. Not wrong.” After taking barely a nibble from his bread, Miceral put it down and let out a sigh. “I have a question that has been gnawing at me since yesterday, but I’m afraid it will offend you.”

  “By the Six, that must be some question to worry you so.” Farrell tried to put as much humor as he could into his words to hide his anxiety.

  “No, nothing like that.” Staring down at his food, Miceral nodded once and then looked up. “Yesterday you said you were the son of

  Zenora and Meglar.”

  Picking at his food, Farrell swallowed loudly. “I am.”

  “But no one knows you are really Prince Halloran—well, King Halloran now, I suppose.”

  “Correct.” Farrell suspected he knew what Miceral wanted to ask but kept silent.

  “So, who’s Prince Farrell? I mean, you’re not prince of Haven because you were Prince of Yar-del. Don’t people ask questions?”

  Farrell let out a nervous laugh, relieved by the source of Miceral’s curiosity. “Heminaltose told people I was the son of a wizard who was a descendant of the house of Hevnor.”

  “Hevnor?”

  Rolling his eyes, Farrell gave Miceral a mock frown. “I can see Muchari don’t concern themselves with world history.”

  “Hey.” Miceral kept his offended look for a second before he smirked. “Human history is not a priority for a Muchari student.”

  “Well, had they taught you world history, you would know that Hevnor was Kel’s younger brother. Honorus appointed Hevnor king of

  Kentar and with Kel’s help, Hevnor and his descendants unified Dumbarten under Kentar’s rule.”

  Miceral nodded, then shook his head. “So how does that make you prince of Haven? I thought Haven was created to house the displaced survivors.”

  Putting his food down, Farrell drained half his cup. “When Heminaltose created Haven, he meant for it to be a school for wizards. For centuries that was its sole purpose. My grandfather and my mother, even Sanduval, trained at his school.

  “When Meglar betrayed my mother, he also stole most of Yardel’s Source. That prevented my grandfather and mother from attacking Meglar. And it gave him a huge advantage that we never overcame.

  “Anyway, that’s a long way of saying after Meglar fled Yar-del, Mother and Heminaltose knew they needed to plan for the worst. Heminaltose transformed his school into a place capable of housing tens of thousands of people. It took almost fifteen years and hundreds of wizards, but they carved out enough space for not only Yar-del, but the other kingdoms as they fell.

  “When my master died, Sanduval took over Haven. Yar-del had no king or queen and no heir, so he declared me Prince of Haven and told the survivors of Yar-del they could either accept me as the ruler of Haven or find somewhere else to live.”

  Miceral opened his eyes wide. “That must have been a fun conversation.”

  “Master Sanduval had just lost the man who was like a brother for eight hundred years. He was in no mood to deal with the squabbling nobility. Besides, there really wasn’t anyone else who had a solid claim, and if we ever take back Yar-del, I am the rightful heir, so it made sense to them.”

  Farrell pulled apart a piece of chicken and chewed it without much interest.

  “Thanks for telling me,” Miceral said, breaking the silence. He put a hand on Farrell’s leg and gave it gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for bringing up such bad memories.”

  “It’s okay. You have a right to know.”

  Miceral smiled and squeezed Farrell’s leg again. “Okay, now you need to eat. If you don’t, Glendora won’t give us any time alone again.”

  LONG BEFORE Farrell wanted to go, they needed to leave. Miceral drew him closer and pressed their lips gently together. The soft, gentle kiss turned into a deeper, more searching one before they both leaned back. Catching his breath, Farrell kept his eyes fixed on Miceral’s perfect blue ones.

  “Thank you for bringing me here.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Now we’ll both have memories of this place.”

  Miceral gave him a last lingering kiss that made his heart beat faster. Savoring what might be their only private time for a while, Farrell missed the touch as soon as it ended.

  When they met with Glendora, Horgon, and a few others Farrell didn’t recognize, everyone agreed to keep the Door open against the need to retreat in a hurry, but no one else would go through until morning. Northhelm would use the time to pack and bring everything remaining to the Great Hall for one quick exit tomorrow. It also allowed Haven to rest for the night.

  When the meeting ended, Glendora turned to him. “Despite your best efforts, you appear asleep on your feet.”

  “I’m fine, Holy Mother. I just—”

  “Shush.” A curt wave of her hand choked off any further argument. “Unlike the others, I know how much effort it takes to keep both shield and Door open. You are hereby directed to get some sleep.”

  “Miceral.” Horgon’s voice drew everyone’s attention. “Why don’t you take Farrell to the soldiers’ dormitory? Should the need arise tomorrow, he needs to be well rested.”

  Farrell watched as Miceral cocked his head, staring at his father. When he blinked, Miceral bowed his head, the edges of his lips showing the beginning of a smile. “Of course, Father.”

  Although he wanted to ask what just happened, he struggled to keep awake as Miceral guided him to a large hall filled with cots and a few wash areas. Miceral led him to a pair set off from the others in a far corner.

  “Rest well.” He gave Farrell a gentle kiss on the lips once they reached their destination. “I’ll join you soon. There are a few things left to deal with before morning.”

  “Hurry back,” he whispered as Miceral left.

  Chapter Seven

  FARRELL WOKE to a gentle shake. Seated on the edge of the cot, Micer
al smiled down at him.

  “Sorry to wake you, but we need to break down this room.”

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up, stretching his slightly stiff limbs. A quick glance told him all the other cots were empty. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

  Miceral shrugged, passing him a plate of cold food. Two cups of coffee sat on the floor by the end of the cot, away from where Farrell might step. “There was no need for you to get up sooner. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve only been up ten minutes myself.”

  “A bit.”

  Amid the frenzy of activity, the pair sat, quietly eating what might be their last meal of the day. When the soldiers inched closer, Miceral motioned toward the exit with his head.

  Farrell stepped into his boots and followed him to the Great Hall. A quick kiss, a hand squeeze and smile, and Miceral left.

  From the activity in the Great Hall, he knew Northhelm had nearly completed its evacuation. The sea of people leaving was absent. The soldiers and remaining support personnel formed a human chain, passing box after box down the line and into Haven. Standing by the Door, Glendora waved him over.

  “Today will be the end of your efforts.” She gave him a genuine, although regretful, smile.

  He nodded, glad to be going home. “Do you know how long it will take to finish the evacuation?”

  “By afternoon all should be gone. We made good progress yesterday. With you holding the shield, Northhelm’s wizards were able to assist more than expected.”

  “I could make this go quicker if it would help.” He waved at the boxes.

  “As could I, but your people requested we not use magic. They were having difficulty taking control of the objects once they passed through the door.”

  Farrell considered her words and nodded. Glendora excused herself and left the hall. Feeling useless, he offered his help to an officer who appeared in charge.