Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Just be sure you find a replacement to clean our rooms on Winter Festival day,” Farrell said with a smile.

  “On your most important day, you want me to find someone else to take care of you? Are you mad?”

  Farrell smiled at Miceral before turning back to her. “I don’t have a sponsor, unless you count my father, but he is too busy trying to conquer the Seven Kingdoms to attend the ceremony. What I’m trying and failing to say is I want you to be my sponsor. I meant what I said. You’ve been there for me just as my mother would have. Anyone else would be a stand-in, not someone I thought of as family.”

  She started to cry again before she stood up and hugged him tight. A moment later, she pulled in Miceral. When she stepped back, she used the yellow handkerchief Farrell had given her to clean her face.

  “I would be honored, but if you tell anyone you saw me cry, I’ll make your lives miserable, and don’t think I can’t.” She glared at them. “Now get out and let me clean that mess you made in the other room. You must have better things to do than bother me while I’m working.”

  Laughing at how quickly she reverted to her gruff persona, Farrell nodded to Miceral and they left. They found Horgon in his office near the audience chamber.

  “Both your mentors will be upset to hear this,” Horgon told him after congratulating them. “They bet me you wouldn’t announce it today, and I told them you would. I just won another case of old wine.”

  “You need to find someone other than your future son-in-law to bet on, Father. It’s not seemly.”

  Grabbing them both by the shoulder, Horgon beamed like a proud parent. “My only question is: What took you both so long to figure this out?”

  Farrell exchanged blank stares with Miceral. When his partner smiled, he did as well. “We were being mindful of Farrell’s virtue.”

  The roar of laughter from Horgon brought a clerk to the office. Taking advantage of the timely arrival, Horgon dictated an official announcement.

  Erstad and Wesfazial joined them, and they held a brief celebration in Horgon’s office. The revelry ended with the arrival of the Honalese delegation, eager to discuss the proposed alliance.

  After a short round of pleasantries, the two sides discussed what aid Haven could offer and the logistics of an evacuation, should it come to that. Farrell’s mind drifted, causing him to miss most of the details.

  During a short break, Horgon leaned toward him. “Why don’t you go to weapons practice? We’ve long since passed the general topics of aid and shelter. All that remains are the details.”

  Farrell did his best to keep the grin from his face but failed. “You’re a gift from the Six, Horgon. I’ll tell Miceral we can leave.”

  “Miceral needs to stay,” Horgon said without malice. “He needs to take a more active role. This will be good practice for him. Run along. I’ll explain it to him.”

  Ignoring the angry daggers Miceral shot at him, Farrell thanked the Six. Miceral must have forgotten they could speak mind to mind, or no doubt he’d be “shouting” at Farrell about the unfair situation. When he made it to the door, Prince Kerstand followed a step behind him.

  “Congratulations are in order, I hear.” He held out an arm, which Farrell clasped. “Your people talk of nothing else. They appear quite happy for you both.”

  “Better happy than upset.” Farrell noted Kerstand didn’t seem eager to return to the meeting. “I’m off to weapons practice. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

  “Much as I’d like to accompany you, I fear my cousin wants me here.” He looked as unhappy as Farrell had felt during the meeting.

  Before his guest could return to the room, Farrell held up a hand. “If you want to come with me, I think I can arrange it. Being Lord of Haven has to have a few perks.”

  Kerstand nodded. “I would like that.”

  Farrell stuck his head in the door and waited for the participants to notice him. “Baron Glaus, could you spare Prince Kerstand for the afternoon? I’d like to get to know him a bit better, and this is an ideal time for us to talk.”

  The baron seemed more than happy to let Farrell take his cousin. “Most certainly, Lord Farrell. Spending time learning about Haven and our hosts is a good use of his time. I hope he isn’t too disappointed to be torn from these meetings.”

  Miceral’s expression told Farrell he didn’t share the baron’s opinion.

  “Cheer up, Ral. I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

  Farrell raised an eyebrow when he saw Miceral start to answer out loud, and then close his mouth. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  Closing the door behind him, he turned to his guest. “Done. You’re coming with me. Do you have practice clothes, or do I need to round some up?”

  “I do, but they’re in my chambers.” Kerstand looked right, then left and shrugged. “Not that I can find them without Glaus.”

  Farrell clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. I know a guide who can help you find your way.”

  THE DOOR opened onto the practice field, drawing the attention of Masters Thomas and Baylec.

  “Nice entrance, boy. Next time don’t be late so you can arrive like everyone else,” Master Thomas said from across the field. “Oh, and congratulations on your pending nuptials. That lad of yours is a fine man. I’m happy for the both you.”

  Farrell waved at the comments, pointing Kerstand to the bench area.

  “That man has no respect for your position,” Kerstand said, still staring at Thomas. “No servant should yell at you like a common trainee.”

  Farrell pulled his dress tunic over his head and shrugged. Grabbing the shirt he’d brought with him, he said, “Master Thomas has been with me since I was a boy. He and I have an agreement: I get to be prince everywhere else, but when I step foot in the practice area, he’s in charge. I take nothing he says during practice personally, no matter how badly he insults me.”

  “You let your servants insult you?” Kerstand acted as if Farrell had said snow was green. “If my weapons master insulted my brothers or me, he’d be lucky not to be executed.”

  “Then your house must retain inferior weapons masters.” They both turned to find Master Baylec standing behind Farrell, smiling. “Allow me to express my joy at your pending union. I believe I’ve come to know you well since we’ve met, and I’m pleased for you both. Miceral is as lucky to have you as you are to have him.”

  He clapped Farrell on the back, sending the half-dressed prince sprawling. The hand mark on his skin made a bright red contrast to his pale skin. Baylec rushed over, only to be waved off by Farrell. The older man stood with his mouth open, carefully running his eyes over his student. “Lord Farrell, I’m truly sorry. Given how we train and your close relationship with Miceral, I forget you’re not a Muchari.”

  Farrell noted Master Thomas looking his way, but he quickly smiled when Farrell gave him a small wave. Kerstand, however, appeared shocked, and even more so when Farrell laughed.

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure to let Miceral know you wish us well. Let me finish dressing and I’ll meet you on the far field.”

  Baylec nodded and walked off as if nothing had happened.

  “How can you let him get away with that? He was completely out of line.” Kerstand twisted, seeming more agitated when he met Farrell’s gaze. “You have his handprint on your back! The whole of Haven will know he touched you.”

  Farrell laughed, yanking on an undershirt before pulling his leather vest over his head. “Baylec is a boyhood friend of Horgon, my soon-to-be father-in-law. He was also Miceral’s teacher and his friend. There’s no finer teacher in the Seven Kingdoms, maybe even the world. It would be a tremendous loss if I missed my chance to train under him over something so trivial.”

  Kerstand didn’t look convinced as they finished dressing. Shaking his head, Farrell put his hands on his guest’s shoulders.

  “Try to keep in mind this is Haven, not Honal. Haven was founded as a wizard’s school. Rank among wizards an
d weapons masters is similar; respect goes to the person with the greater skill. I try to remember that every time I come here. Set aside your rank while you’re here. You may find it refreshing.”

  When Kerstand nodded, Farrell smiled back and grabbed his staff. “Master Baylec.” He waited until his teacher looked over. “Can you accommodate Prince Kerstand, or should I send him to Master Thomas for sword practice?”

  “Start him with Master Thomas so we can get started.” He pointed toward the group working with Thomas. “After we’ve sparred a bit, he can join us, and I’ll go over sword work with you both.”

  “There you have it. You’re off to Master Thomas.” He reached out for Kerstand’s arm before his friend could leave. “I would count it as a personal favor if you would be polite to him no matter what he says. He’s an old and trusted friend who has always watched over me.” Kerstand nodded, smiling as he grabbed his sword. “Of course.”

  Aware Baylec waited for him, Farrell resisted the urge to observe the initial exchange between Thomas and his new student.

  “Is that the Prince of Honal we’re supposed to watch over?” Baylec asked when Farrell arrived.

  “It is, Master. He didn’t want to be the heir sent to safety. I think he’s worried he won’t see his family again.” He shrugged as he let Baylec begin their pre-workout stretch. “Since we’re about the same age and have similar upbringings, I figured I’d try to befriend him.”

  “Good luck with him. He seems a bit formal.”

  LOST IN his training, he didn’t realize how long they’d been there until Baylec stepped back, planting his staff in the dirt.

  Imitating his teacher’s actions, he bowed deeply. Baylec led him over to where Kerstand worked hard under Thomas’s watchful eye. “Are we finished already, Master Baylec?”

  “Thomas, mark this date,” he said as they joined the larger group.

  “Prince Farrell wants to train longer.”

  Thomas gave Farrell a wink. “We can arrange that.”

  Barking an order, Thomas sent all but Kerstand to the sides. Bringing the two princes together, he smirked at Baylec. “Why don’t you two spar? It’s been too long since you’ve had a sword in your hand, Farrell.”

  Baylec handed Farrell one of the swords he kept at the field. After swinging it a few times to remember the feel, Farrell nodded to Baylec, who accompanied him to an open space. Thomas gave Kerstand some last-minute instructions, then motioned for the two to square off.

  Farrell bowed to his opponent, then lunged forward to start the exercise. As the two went back and forth, the teachers circled the pair, stopping them on three occasions. Each time, Baylec and Thomas played the roles of their students and demonstrated their good and bad techniques. Finally, they stopped giving instructions and the sparring continued.

  After almost ten minutes of give and take, Farrell disarmed Kerstand twice and moved him back when they called to stop. Farrell bowed, but Kerstand’s dour expression told him what his new friend thought of the training session.

  Master Thomas appeared at Kerstand’s side and clasped the younger man’s shoulder in his callused hand. “Well done, lad. Quite impressive. In a couple of weeks’ time, I’ll have you trouncing this slacker.” He shoved a thumb in Farrell’s direction.

  Kerstand’s face brightened. Baylec walked over, extending his arm. “Indeed, Prince Kerstand, you surprised me with your skills. A little refinement and I’m sure you two will be trading victories soon enough.”

  Farrell nearly reminded them of his skill level, but he saw Kerstand’s mood improve with each compliment. “Thank you, Kerstand. It’s good to spar with someone who’s not a weapons master. Next time you’ll win a few, I’m sure. I sense Master Thomas is eager to train you for just that purpose.”

  “If it motivates you to work harder,” Thomas growled, “count on it.”

  Both princes smiled as they gathered their clothes. “Definitely better than a dry, boring meeting,” Kerstand said.

  Farrell nodded. “Every time.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  STARING AT the parchment, Farrell rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure all of this is necessary?”

  Horgon nodded and waved at the papers. “I’m afraid so. As prince, you can’t sneak off and get joined. All this is just part of what’s involved. I’ve left the more mundane details out, figuring you don’t much care about things like the color of the invitation or which flowers will be on the altar.”

  “Unbelievable.” Farrell shook his head, lifting another sheet from the stack.

  “There is good news,” Horgon said.

  “What? The ceremony won’t be eight hours long?” He appreciated Horgon’s efforts, but he’d never envisioned the extent of the ceremonial obligations.

  “By the Six, yes.” Horgon laughed. “I promise it won’t go a minute over six hours.”

  Focused on the document in his hand, Farrell didn’t pay attention to the answer. When the import of what Horgon said hit him, he looked up. “I’m not finding this funny.”

  “You need to relax.” Miceral gently rubbed Farrell’s shoulders.

  “Everything will work out.”

  He shook his head. “Work out according to whose plans?”

  Horgon shifted through the papers and slid a sheet toward Farrell. “Back to the good news. We’ve worked everyone into the ceremony. As you can see from the sketch, your adopted brothers and father and mentors each have prominent roles, though I did need to include representatives from the nations in exile to get the clerics to—”

  “Wait!” He waved the paper at Horgon. “This drawing is for the Grand Temple of Honorus. We were supposed to use the small private temple to Lenore in the Yar-del portion of Haven.”

  “Yeeess.” Horgon turned to his right. “The high priests and priestesses felt that would prove too small, so they switched it to the Grand Temple. It has more room for the ceremony as well as far more seating. Also, the private temple you wanted is too small to hold Rothdin and your brothers. Did you want your adopted father to come, but not Grohl and Takala?”

  “All six?” Farrell looked up again, his voice an octave higher. “You have the heads of all six temples written down. When did that happen?”

  The smile faded from Horgon’s face as he threw his hands up. “Farrell, like it or not, you’re the Prince of Haven. You don’t get to elope and have the first available priest join the two of you.”

  “All I—we—want is a simple ceremony with our friends and family. This is turning into a union ceremony for a king of Yar-del.”

  “Farrell.” Miceral rubbed his shoulders a bit harder. “We got the things that mattered most. Some things we need to concede.”

  “Concede?” Now Farrell raised his voice. “‘Concede’ implies there are negotiations involved! This is our ceremony. No one else gets a say!”

  “Sorry, son.” Horgon sounded tired but firm. “But the people get a say when their ruler gets joined.”

  Not wanting to spend the rest of the day arguing, Farrell tossed the paper onto the table. “Since it doesn’t matter what I want, I’m going to weapons practice. At least there when I get beaten down, it’s because I didn’t defend myself.”

  “SORRY, FARRELL.” Kerstand pulled the sweaty tunic over his head. The mat of light brown hair on his chest glistened from his efforts. “What you describe is exactly what I’d expect for my union ceremony.”

  “Not you, too.” He tossed his linen shirt over his shoulder, where it disappeared with a small pop. “It’s not that I don’t understand why it has to be this way. I just wish I could be normal.”

  Laughter filled the small area they used to change. “Normal? Farrell, with no disrespect meant, you might be the least normal person in all the world. What makes you think you’d ever want to be normal?”

  Feeling a bit foolish, he shrugged. “Don’t you ever wish you didn’t have to worry that your next decision could affect so many people?”

  Kerstand finished wiping t
he sweat from his torso and sat down. “Your concept of what regular people are like is skewed. Suppose you were allowed to give away all your responsibilities as leader of Haven. What then? Would you give up being a wizard? I think not. I’ve seen how casually you do things with magic. It’s second nature to you. Normal people can’t whisk themselves from one end of the city to another with a thought.

  “But even if you could give up being a wizard, do you really understand what normal people do every day? They work, and work hard. They till fields, make shoes, build fences, mine ore, sell goods, and a hundred other tasks that are full-time occupations. They have families who depend on them, much like the rest of us depend on you. So while you might give up the greater responsibility of protecting everyone else, you would still have people whom you’d want to keep safe. The only difference is, if you weren’t you, you’d be powerless to save them.”

  Stunned at the depth of his friend’s comments, Farrell forgot to put on a clean shirt until he shivered in the cool air. “That was . . . insightful. When did you become so well-versed in the ways of regular people?”

  A small smile curled the edges of Kerstand’s lips. “I’ve spent time with those not of the nobility. Their worldview is very different from ours.”

  “When you put things like that, I don’t think I want to be normal after all.” Farrell waved his hand to fetch a new tunic from his closet. “Come on. I owe my soon-to-be father-in-law an apology.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  FARRELL QUIETED the churning in his stomach with three deep breaths before he opened his eyes to winter solstice—the Winter Festival. His union ceremony. Awake already, Miceral stared at him with a smile.

  “Morning, handsome.” Miceral completed the greeting by bringing their lips together. “Ready to spend the rest of your life with me?”

  “Depends. Do you promise to keep me that long?” Farrell kissed his partner again, then rolled on top of him.