Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  Farrell turned toward Miceral and said, “At least he called you handsome.” Miceral set him down but kept an arm around Farrell’s waist. “Wesfazial, may I introduce Miceral, son of Horgon, whom I see you met.”

  Miceral bowed but kept close to him. “Good to meet you, Master Wesfazial. Farrell has spoken highly of you.”

  “You don’t need to lie for the boy.” Wesfazial nodded, a smirk pushing aside his concern. “I know what he thinks of me.”

  “Where’s Erstad?” Farrell looked around until he saw his other mentor standing by the energized rocks.

  Though he didn’t need the help, he let Miceral hold him until they reached Erstad. Without warning, the elderly wizard spun around.

  “Astounding. Where did you learn this?” Without missing a beat, he turned slightly to his right and added, “You must be Miceral. Pleased to meet you, lad.”

  “I came up with the idea after reading something in a book in Heminaltose’s library.”

  “Impossible.” Wesfazial’s denial took Farrell by surprise. “I’ve read every book in that library, as has Erstad. There’s nothing in there about this type of shielding.”

  “Well, no, there isn’t, but there are some references to higher magic that only a grand master can work.” He turned his head from one to the other. What had them so worked up? “I experimented with those on a smaller scale and implemented it here today.”

  “And you never thought to tell us about it?” Erstad asked, directing them toward the gate.

  “No disrespect, but neither of you are grand masters. I didn’t think it made sense to discuss my theories with you if you couldn’t understand the magic involved.”

  The two looked at each other, something that Farrell had seen them do many times over the last eight years. Hearing nothing further, he let Miceral lead him to Nerti and Klissmor.

  “We should get back to the Door,” he told everyone. “Eventually Meglar will show up to see what happened. My hope is we’ll be gone by then.”

  “Are you going to leave the stones for him to study?” Erstad asked.

  “No.” Farrell mounted Nerti. “The spells are keyed to my presence. Once I close the Door, they’ll wink out, leaving nothing but stones with residual power.”

  Everyone kept silent as Horgon led them back toward the Great Hall. Once inside the front gate, Erstad turned, muttered a few words, and waved his hand at the entrance. It and all the empty space around it turned into a solid wall of rock. Farrell turned to the elderly wizard, a look of confusion on his face.

  “Wizardry had a hand in building Northhelm.” Erstad shrugged. “It’s only fitting I undo the spells before we leave for good. It will further hinder Meglar’s efforts to learn anything from this place.”

  “By the Six, how simple am I?” Farrell swore. “I could have sealed the mountain like Master Erstad is doing and not had to rush out to create a new shield. Meglar’s forces wouldn’t have reached us before the evacuation was complete.”

  “Sometimes age beats strength.” Glendora sounded like his former teacher.

  Feeling foolish, he nodded but didn’t say any more. They continued in silence, the tunnels quickly returning to earth and rock behind them

  When they reached the almost desolate hall, only a few soldiers remained.

  Moments after their arrival, the doorway to the hall turned back to its native rock. Even the size of the chamber slowly shrunk. One by one, the soldiers stepped into the Door until only the four wizards, Miceral, Nerti, Klissmor, and three horses remained. Farrell motioned for everyone else to go through.

  “What of you?” Miceral asked.

  “When I leave, I’m going to turn off the spells that created the shield.” Everyone but Miceral moved for the Door. Before he left, Miceral leaned over to kiss him again.

  “Hurry through. There’s nothing left to protect.” Miceral gave him a playful wink. “That and I’m anxious to see your home.”

  “I will, but I want to be sure I leave no trace of where we went. I need the Door to dissolve itself before the chamber closes in on it. It won’t take but a moment. Then I will show you our home. Now go.”

  He motioned toward the Door. “Just wait for me on the other side.” Alone, only the glow from the Door lit the slowly shrinking room. He could feel that Meglar’s attacks had increased considerably but hadn’t weakened the shield much. He considered exploding the stones but decided to time his departure for a moment before the next assault. Once he removed the shield, Meglar’s next blast would destroy everything in its path.

  Certain he had the pattern of Meglar’s attacks correct, Farrell spoke the spell that would unmake the Door once he left Northhelm. Even if Meglar somehow found his way through the mountains to this spot, he would find nothing of value.

  Stepping through after one attack and before the next, Farrell felt the shield wink out. He knew Meglar’s energy would incinerate everything around it, even the stones. The mountain shook, disturbing nothing but earth and rock. As the last of the Door disappeared, so did his link to the now extinct Northhelm.

  Chapter Eight

  FARRELL TURNED from where the Door had been and looked for his friends. Erstad and Wesfazial stood by the exit talking to Glendora. Two very deferential clerics of Lenore fawned over Nerti and Klissmor as they led them to their quarters. That left Miceral alone.

  He turned to Miceral, letting his lips curl up in a playful grin. “Glad I’m not standing next to Meglar about now. He’s probably breaking everything in sight.”

  “Then I’m glad you’re not near him, too.” Miceral winked and returned the grin. “I don’t want him breaking you.”

  “So . . . so . . .,” he stammered, not sure what to say. “Welcome to Haven. Let me find out where your room is and I’ll walk you there.”

  Miceral looked at him for a moment, searching for the right words. “You need some rest. As much as I’d like you to escort me, why don’t you find someone else so you can get some sleep?”

  Farrell noted the hesitation and decided to take a chance. He stared at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come with me to my suite?”

  Miceral didn’t respond, forcing Farrell to lift his eyes. From the look on his face, Miceral struggled for an answer. “I want to, Farrell. Trust me, I do, but I think it’s best for you to rest—alone. You passed out once, then worked more powerful magic. There will be time for us to be together. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The big smile did little to improve Farrell’s mood. Sure, they could be together later, but that didn’t help with now. “I know you aren’t. But . . . ”

  “Come, I’ll walk you to your rooms, then go find mine. You can come get me in the morning and show me around.” Miceral took his hand and moved toward the exit.

  Smirking, he nodded. “Okay, but you should let me lead. You don’t know the way.”

  Hands entwined, they made their way up four levels to Farrell’s rooms. People scurried about, but they stopped to greet Farrell. Most smiled when they noticed the pair holding hands.

  “You seem well-liked.” Miceral turned his head to follow the last group. “Am I a trophy you’re showing off?”

  “Of course.” Farrell caught himself before he giggled. Drawing himself up, he tried to look serious. “I am the prince around here. It’s about time the people of Haven saw me deliriously happy.”

  A small squeeze of his hand made him smile wider, a grin he kept all the way to his rooms. They met fewer people the farther they went. Eventually, no one bothered them as they walked down a long, half-lit corridor. Farrell stopped in front of a plain stone door. Only a small gray handle set it apart from the wall around it.

  “These are my quarters.” He looked up, feeling his heart pound. “Come in while we wait for someone to fetch you?”

  “Of course.” Miceral pushed the door, but it didn’t budge.

  “I’m afraid you need permission to open my door. It’s magically sealed.” Miceral started to remove his hand
, but Farrell grabbed it in his and placed it back on the door. He wove magic through their hands, drawing a look from Miceral. “Now my door will open for you.”

  Miceral pushed with a finger, and the door gently swung inward. Farrell led them into a small anteroom with three doorways. Doors to the left and right were closed, and the archway in front of them led to a dark room. With a quick wave of his hand, he raised the lights.

  “My chambers are the biggest in Haven.” He realized what that sounded like and toned it down a notch. “I have my workrooms here, as well as a sitting room where I can receive visitors, if needed.”

  He let Miceral scan the area before pointing to his right. “My workrooms are behind that door. I can’t allow a nonwizard access given what I have stored inside.”

  “Afraid I might learn your darkest secrets?” Miceral raised both eyebrows suggestively.

  “No, those would be found over there.” Miceral’s gaze followed Farrell’s finger as he indicated to the left. “That door will open when you push it.”

  “What’s in there?”

  Feeling himself falter, he pushed down his fears. “My private rooms—bedroom, bath, and study.”

  Miceral stepped over, pushing the door. “Seems to work.”

  Blushing, Farrell pointed to the far left corner of the vestibule. “Ahead is the sitting room. Behind that is my music room. I’m not very good compared to the musicians who play in common areas around Haven, but it calms me to play.”

  Still by the door, Miceral glanced inside. “Since I have unfettered access to your inner sanctum, I will use this power to see to it you get some rest.”

  He stepped back, and Farrell led the way. “Study,” he said as they passed a door to the right. A few paces forward, he stopped them by the door to the left. Pointing to a tub without a drain, he said, “Unlike most baths, I can heat and remove the water with my magic. So I made this tub large enough to allow for a really good soaking. Which, I might add, is something I should do before I go to bed. Lisle will be angry at me if I lay my stinky self onto the clean linens.”

  He noted the odd look on Miceral’s face. “Lisle is the woman who sees that my chambers are clean and I don’t get too messy. Believe me, that woman has a tongue that could curl the paint off a portrait if she gets mad. I try very hard not to be on the receiving end of one of her lectures.”

  “Fine, bath first, then off to bed.” Miceral ticked off the events on his fingers.

  Farrell couldn’t stop a smile as he led them into the chamber at the end of the hall. As the pair entered, the lights came up, illuminating the entire room. A small table and two chairs, along with eating utensils, napkins, and some fruit, sat in the corner to the left of the door. A large, overstuffed leather chair and ottoman, with a small table and candelabra next to it, filled the corner to their right. Small globes of wizard’s light danced on top of each candlestick.

  A feather bed, large enough for three men to lie side by side without touching each other, covered the entire back wall except for a small archway in the left rear corner.

  “By the Six! That is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Do you have parties on it?”

  “No, but I’m a lazy thing in the morning. It’s my one real vice. I like nothing better when it’s cold or rainy than to lie in bed under the covers as long as they’ll let me. Even this far under the mountain, I can feel the weather outside and burrow in and stay warm.”

  He realized his words came out in a rush. Sneaking a glance at his guest, he relaxed when he found Miceral smiling.

  “A bed like that looks lonely. Where’s the grand bedframe, complete with canopy and lace curtains?” Miceral struggled for an instant before a small laugh snuck out.

  Unable to hold it back, Farrell yawned. All the humor drained from Miceral’s face, replaced by concern.

  “You’re tired. Let’s get you that bath and put you to bed. Do you need any help?”

  Farrell blushed. “Help?”

  “Well, I meant, drawing the bath or turning down the sheets.” The mischievous half leer appeared again. “But since you asked . . .”

  Farrell felt his cheeks warm even more but didn’t look away. “Someone to wash my back would be nice.”

  “Wash your back?” For a moment Farrell wondered if he had offended his guest, but Miceral’s smile helped calm him. “I’m a bit overdressed for that type of work, don’t you think?”

  “Well . . .” He almost dropped the topic but pushed himself to continue. “The tub is big enough for two, and, frankly, you really need a bath, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  Miceral’s laugh filled the room. “Who knew you could manipulate me so. Is that your way of asking me to join you? Oh please, don’t get all embarrassed. I joke to cover my clumsiness. Otherwise I’d be as shy as you. In fact, I used to be that shy about a hundred years ago or so.”

  Farrell’s body shook, his angst unwilling to go away. “Is that a yes?”

  In the midst of a prayer asking Serita, Goddess of Love, for help, Farrell felt a large, callused hand reach for his cheek. The touch sent a new wave of shivers through his body.

  “You really want me to stay?”

  “Yes.” He looked up, careful not to use magic to get Miceral to agree. “More than you know.”

  He spoke the last words so quietly, he didn’t know if Miceral heard him. Farrell held his breath, waiting for an answer.

  Miceral’s face betrayed his indecision. Finally he met Farrell’s gaze and smiled. Reaching out, he pulled Farrell closer. “Okay, I’ll stay. But you’re right. You do stink. I’m going to have to toss you into that great big tub of yours and scrub you good if I’m to share a bed with you.”

  Farrell pulled back, noting the smirk on Miceral’s face. Two could play this game. “Me? I’m not the one who smells like rotten Chamdon. You bet your last silver crown you’re going into the tub, too, even if I have to throw you in myself. No way you’ll foul my bed smelling like that.”

  “You? My fragile little wizard? Throw me in the tub? You and what army? We Muchari are much stronger than we look, you know.” He puffed out his chest, and Farrell laughed at his theatrics.

  Shaking his head, he moved closer for a brief kiss. “Let me get the bath ready for us. I prefer my baths on the hot side, if that’s okay.”

  “Perfect. Best to start off hotter. They always cool too much at the end, anyway.”

  “Ha, not my bathwater. I keep it the way I like it until I’m done. Being a wizard has to have a few perks to go with the endless studying and training.” Just as all the sword training probably gave Miceral a body to die for, he thought.

  Trying to contain his excitement, he focused on the bath. Connecting to the spells in the tub, he set the water running. When he could hear it filling, he smiled at Miceral. His insecurities urged him to retreat to the bathing chamber to undress, but he ignored them, pulling his tunic over his head. If he wanted Miceral to join him in the bath, he had to get naked. Sitting bare-chested on the bed, he removed his boots.

  “Not fair,” Miceral said as Farrell moved to put his boots away. “Armor is a fair bit harder to get out of than a simple tunic and britches.

  You’ll be in the tub long before I finish.”

  “Another benefit to having a wizard for a friend is I could just . . . you know.” He waved his hand in the air.

  “No, thank you.” Miceral held up his hand. “There’s no telling what else you’ll remove if you get into that habit. Don’t you wizards do anything the old-fashioned way?”

  “Well, I’ve gotten myself undressed so far without the aid of magic. That’s more than you can say.” He felt Miceral’s eyes on his naked torso. “At least let me help so your hair doesn’t catch on the chain mail.”

  “You can do that? It seems a rather mundane use of wizardry.”

  It took a moment for the words to register. Then he began to laugh. “If you knew how many mundane things we use wizardry for around here. Heating water, sanitizing water,
removing sewage, preserving food, heating rooms, cooling rooms, providing light, cleaning clothing. The list is endless.”

  “Hmm, well, it’s a darn sight difficult to get out of this stuff sometimes, and I really could go for a hot bath right now.” Miceral didn’t hide the smirk very well. “But just the armor. I still prefer to get my clothes off on my own.”

  “That’s disappointing.” Farrell pretended to be hurt until he saw how serious Miceral looked.

  “Sorry, but I see wizards with a suspect eye, knowing what they can do if they want to with their powers.”

  The conversation had taken a darker tone than Farrell had intended. He put his hands together, fingers up, then drew them slowly apart and back. Miceral’s armor disappeared for a moment, only to reappear, cleaned and stacked neatly by the ottoman in the corner.

  “I only meant it was disappointing you preferred to take your clothes off by yourself. What if I wanted to help you get naked by hand?” Farrell winked at Miceral, happy to note the hint of color in his cheeks. “But I know what you mean. Magic is certainly open to abuse. As the old saying goes, ‘Power corrupts.’ The greater one’s power, the greater the risk of misuse. My father is living proof of that.

  “I try very hard not to do anything that would qualify as a violation of one’s personal space. No truth spells, trances, tampering with memories, and no stripping handsome men of their clothing. These are just some of the things we don’t do.

  “I don’t blame you for being mistrustful. I suppose I would be too if I weren’t a wizard.” He made for the bath chamber without waiting for Miceral to respond. Once inside, he removed several large, soft light green towels from the shelves along the wall. He shucked his pants and tossed them aside.

  The steam from the bath had fogged the mirror. “Drat.” He’d forgotten to add the spell to prevent this when he turned on the water. Clearing the condensation with his hand, he wished he hadn’t. “Damn,” he whispered to his reflection. “I look like I’ve been dragged through the depths of Neblor. It’s a wonder he agreed to stay.”