Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Someone has a lot of energy.” Miceral tossed back the sheets and carried Farrell as he climbed off their bed. “Might as well keep to our morning training schedule. Some exercise will calm you.”

  “It’d better because right now I doubt I can stand still long enough to exchange vows.”

  FARRELL CLUTCHED his knees, panting hard. Their training felt more intense than normal, which probably explained the smirk on Miceral’s face.

  “Hopefully, you’re not too tired to exchange vows.”

  Sticking out his tongue, Farrell shook his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, old man.”

  Before Miceral could respond, a loud knock filled the room.

  “Who could that be?”

  Farrell shrugged, heading toward the exit. “Don’t know. I didn’t invite anyone.”

  Miceral tossed him a towel. “You’re the wizard, can’t you . . ” He waved his hand with a laugh. Ignoring the sarcasm, Farrell wiped his face and found a shirt before heading to the door. As he got closer, a second knock rang out.

  “Hold on!” he said. “Don’t people know this is a big apartment?” Trying not to be annoyed, he opened the door.

  “Kerstand.” He stepped back to let his friend pass. “The ceremony’s after lunch.”

  “It’s Kerstand, and he’s dressed already.”

  “Let me get my shirt and I’ll join you.”

  “I know,” Kerstand said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “Okay. What did you need?” He smiled, leading their friend through their private rooms. “Excuse the mess. I didn’t have a chance to set things back.”

  Farrell waved his hand in a circle twice and snapped it forward. The thick, spongy black rug rolled up, lifted off the ground, and vanished. Next the furniture slid back into place.

  “That’s a handy trick,” Kerstand said absently.

  “It saves us from asking Erstad to expand our apartment again,” Miceral said, coming from their bedroom. “I don’t need another lecture on how much space we already have.”

  “Can’t you do it?” Kerstand turned toward Farrell. “I mean, you’re a grand master wizard. Why can’t you do what he does?”

  “I can do it. The question is, can I do it as well.” He retrieved a pitcher of water by the door and offered his guest a cup. “It’s like painting a picture. Most of us can do it, but only those who have the talent and who practice are good at it. When Erstad makes new rooms, the walls are straight, the floors are even, and the dimensions are proper. Mine?” He shrugged, handing Kerstand a drink.

  “So why all dressed up at this early hour?” Miceral motioned their friend toward a chair.

  Looking uncomfortable, Kerstand nodded to himself before he spoke. “I need some advice about a girl.”

  Farrell turned to Miceral, and the two burst out laughing. “Kerstand, you’re a good friend, but you need a better source of information on girls than Miceral and I.”

  Kerstand rolled his eyes but still laughed. Seeming more relaxed, he shook his head. “I don’t need advice on what girls are like. I have enough experience to know men have no idea what woman think. It has to do with her being a commoner.”

  Farrell smirked. “Now I see where your information came from.”

  Flushed, Kerstand nodded. “The issue is she claims she has nothing to wear suitable to be in ‘a prince’s presence,’ and when I offered to buy her something, she refused, saying she didn’t want my charity.”

  “That’s hard,” Miceral said. “Maybe she’s using her lack of clothing as an excuse so she doesn’t have to say no and hurt your feelings.”

  Kerstand’s shoulders slumped. “You’re probably right. This is a mistake.”

  “Blessed Serita, Kers, you give up too easily.” Farrell stood up, shaking his head. “Wait here.”

  He went into his closet and searched without success. Frowning, he tried to recall where he put what he was looking for. “Stupid.”

  Arms out, he “saw” the image of what he wanted and intoned a fetching spell. Smiling, he returned to their sitting room carrying a long, shallow wooden box.

  “This was my . . . my master had me make this for Queen Zenora. She despised formal occasions almost as much as finding suitable clothing. For reasons I’m still not clear on, Heminaltose had me make a dress for her as a lesson in nondefined magic.” Opening the box, he showed them a bit of white cloth. He quickly shut the top. “The dress has no set size or style. All one needs to do is think of the dress you want, and this will become whatever is desired.”

  Thrusting the container toward his friend, he nodded. Kerstand slowly opened the lid, letting out a low gasp. Smiling to Miceral, Farrell let his friend take the box.

  “I imprinted a dress the tailor showed Lisle but she didn’t select.” Farrell paused as Kerstand held up a simple but elegant pale blue gown with white lace. “There are matching shoes in the box. Once she touches it, the dress and shoes will automatically adjust to her size. Explain the dress to her, and tell her I’m loaning it to you for the festival. That way you didn’t buy it and it’s not charity.”

  Kerstand folded the dress, carefully laid it back inside, and shut the top. “Thank you. Not sure she’ll say yes, but she’ll have one less excuse for turning me down.”

  DESPITE THEIR suggestion that Lisle take the day off, she arrived for work just after Kerstand left.

  Even with the ceremony several hours away, Farrell and Miceral began to get ready. Lisle set out their clothes, then left while they washed up.

  Farrell went to the bath chamber and filled the tub. Before getting in, he dug out his old shaving kit from the back of the closet. Normally he used magic to remove the stubble, but today he wanted to get ready the “normal” way.

  Miceral entered just as he stepped in the tub. Immediately his attention went to the razor and soap on the counter. “That’s a switch. Any reason you’re going to risk cutting your throat like the rest of us instead of doing it the easy way?”

  “Today I want to be just a regular person, not a grand master wizard.”

  Miceral opened, then closed his mouth. Picking up a cloth, he moved over to the tub. “You don’t have to do this for me. I love you exactly as you are.” Gently rubbing the soapy cloth over Farrell’s back, Miceral won a sigh of enjoyment for his efforts.

  “This is about me today, not that I was worried you’d disapprove. With time, I worry I’m losing my ability to relate to people who can’t do most everything they want with a wave of the hand. On this day, I don’t want to be more than anyone else. Besides, if I truly mess it up, I can fix it with a wave of my hand.” This last point he brought home by waving his hand in front of his face. “Gods of Nendor, Ral, that feels so good. Promise me when we’re joined you’ll keep doing it.”

  “Are you kidding?” Miceral sat back, looking exaggeratedly shocked. “Once I have you lulled into saying ‘I do,’ I’m going to show my true colors. No more back rubs, no more hugs and kisses. None of it. I hate that stuff. That was only to trick you into joining with me.” Rolling his eyes, Farrell splashed water at his partner.

  “Hey!” Miceral sat back, taking the washcloth off Farrell’s back. “Don’t start splashing me. If I jump in, we might not make our ceremony.”

  Wicked thoughts flashed through Farrell’s mind. It might be worth being late. It wasn’t as though anyone could start without them. Before he could suggest they have a bit of fun, Miceral rinsed the soap off Farrell’s back and stood up. Mildly disappointed, Farrell knew he needed to be good. He dunked his head to get his hair wet, washed it, then dunked it again.

  “Done.” He quickly emptied the tub, refilled it with clean water, and dried off.

  Wrapping a towel around his waist, he eyed the shaving brush and razor. He struggled to work up a lather. Frustrated, he glared at the soap, ready to banish it to Neblor with a thought. Miceral came up behind him and took the brush from his hand. Without a word, he added a bit more water to the soap cup, twirled the brush
around, and gave it back to Farrell with a kiss on the cheek.

  Building on Miceral’s efforts, he soon had enough lather to shave. The brush tickled his face more than he remembered. Determined to see it through, he eyed the razor suspiciously. Gingerly, he pulled the blade across the stubble. It ended up being a slow, deliberate process, but he managed to finish without cutting himself. Satisfied, he moved to Miceral’s side to wash his back as a thank-you.

  When they finished, Farrell walked into his closet and emerged with a long rectangular wooden box. He laid it on the bed, pushed back the lid, and revealed several crowns, ranging from plain gold to ornate and jewel-encrusted. “I suppose I ought to wear one today.” He looked to Miceral for confirmation. “Unless you think it is too presumptuous.”

  “I wondered if you were going to show any sign of rank. I think you should wear the crown. Father has a small circlet he wears on formal occasions, as do I. If you wear one, I’ll find mine.”

  Farrell selected the simplest circlet and laid it on his pillow before he put the box away. Miceral disappeared into his closet. He emerged with a small cloth bag. Unceremoniously, he dumped his crown on the pillow next to Farrell’s.

  Yar-del’s simple, everyday crown consisted of a band of gold that grew wider toward the front. Inlaid around the inside band, Kel had etched a spell for his heirs. Spoken in order, the words granted the wearer a bond to the lands of Yar-del. Once engaged, the spell endowed the ruler with the ability to know anything and everything that happened within the borders of the kingdom. With no kingdom left, Farrell had never invoked the words.

  “This one wasn’t used often by my mother or grandfather.” He held it up for Miceral to see. “And because it’s so plain, no one will recognize it and mark me as a child of the House of Kel.”

  Miceral’s crown seemed simple until Farrell looked closer. Running his fingers over the circlet, Farrell thought it felt like unicorn horns covered in gold.

  “They’re not real horns.” Miceral’s voice drew Farrell’s focus from the crown. “When a unicorn dies, their horn returns to Lenore, carrying the unicorn’s soul. Klissmor honored me by allowing a cast to be made of his horn for my crown.”

  Picking up Miceral’s crown, Farrell placed it gently on his soon-to-be life partner’s head. “You look amazing.”

  Blond hair and gold crown blended almost seamlessly, creating a halo effect around Miceral’s head. When he smiled, Miceral stole Farrell’s breath. A heartbeat later, his old insecurities rushed back. How could anyone that stunning see any worth in him? He felt plain, skinny, and unremarkable, nothing like the man before him.

  Lost in his thoughts, Farrell didn’t see Miceral move until he returned, Farrell’s crown in hand. “Since we’re crowning each other, it’s my turn.”

  Farrell felt the heavy metal band rest on his head. The velvet lining cushioned the weight, making it somewhat tolerable. Miceral bowed, then sank to his knee.

  “My handsome prince.” Miceral looked up at him. Farrell stared into the deep blue eyes, his fear melting way. “Unworthy as I am to be your life partner, I will strive every day to make you happy. You saved me from certain death, but more importantly, you cured my lonely heart. Never doubt you are worthy of my heart, for it will never belong to anyone else.”

  Tears formed at the edges of Farrell’s eyes as he swallowed twice to keep from crying. Unable to speak, he pulled Miceral to his feet. Despite wanting to say so much, he buried his face against Miceral’s neck. “I love you, Miceral.”

  He barely whispered the words, but he knew Miceral heard them.

  “I love you, too.”

  Farrell held tight, unwilling to let go just yet. Before their ceremony, he had something he needed to do—something unsettling. When he could avoid it no more, he released Miceral and summoned two thick cloaks and two pairs of gloves.

  “Why are we going to Erstad’s quarters first?” Miceral asked. “Why don’t we just go directly to the temple?”

  Farrell touched an empty space on the wall opposite their bed. A Door opened, leading to a vacant corridor. “It’s what we’ve done every Winter and Summer Festival. Not sure it’s a good idea to break with tradition.”

  As Farrell planned, they exited just outside Erstad’s chambers, putting to rest any question that they’d skip meeting the others. Erstad greeted them wearing the white wizard’s robe Farrell had made for the occasion. Thin lines of silver thread made it sparkle when the light hit it just right.

  “You two look smart.” Erstad stepped back, letting his guests enter. Horgon and Lisle talked quietly in the next room. “And thank you both for this magnificent robe. All the silver makes it a bit heavy, but nothing the right spell didn’t fix.”

  Lisle, dressed in a pale blue dress adorned with tiny jewels and gold threads, looked nothing like the stern, iron-fisted housekeeper who had terrorized Farrell for years. It cost Farrell more than he’d paid her in five years, and he had to pull rank to have the most sought-after tailor in Haven make the dress in time. The tiara borrowed from Yar-del’s treasury completed her outfit and made sure his sponsor would look every bit the queen mother she stood in for.

  “Worth every copper we paid,” Farrell whispered to Miceral. Unable to hold it back, he broke into a huge smile as they made their way to Horgon and Lisle. “You look amazing.”

  The compliment prompted Lisle to turn a deep red. Staring at Farrell, she rolled her eyes.

  “Honestly, child, I won’t be around forever to make sure you’re presentable in public.” She moved his crown a fraction of an inch to the left, shaking her head. “You would think a simple thing like putting this on right would be something you could manage without my help.”

  Farrell didn’t even try to be contrite. He just kept smiling. Miceral quickly adjusted his crown, prompting the others to laugh.

  Coming from behind, Erstad put a hand on their backs. “We can leave when Wesfazial and Cylinda arrive.”

  Farrell’s good mood vanished as quickly as his smile. “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure you want to go this year?” Lisle rubbed Farrell’s hand. “I’m sure they’ll understand if you don’t want to ruin your day.”

  The silence of the room weighed on Farrell. He knew he could call it off with a word and that they all hoped he would. But despite how much it hurt, he needed to go.

  “Even though it spoils my mood, I won’t skip it. I need to speak to them. If anyone doesn’t want to come, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

  No one spoke, and Farrell thanked the Six for the rap on the door that broke the silence. He overheard hushed voices as Erstad spoke to the newcomers. When Miceral squeezed his hand, he managed a smile. Facing his past wouldn’t be easy, but with Miceral’s support, Farrell felt stronger than before.

  A big hand gripped his shoulder. “Ready, lad?” Wesfazial’s booming voice seemed softer, somber even. “Let’s go pay our respects.”

  Erstad touched a blank space on the wall, and Farrell felt him activate a permanent Door. Farrell adjusted his cloak and slipped on his gloves as the snowy mountainside shimmered into focus. Without looking back, he walked outside.

  The small plateau, perched a thousand feet above the Plains of Gharaha, stood barren but for the snow and three stone markers. Farrell had chosen this place to honor his mother and mentors because it could be reached only with the help of magic. Positioned at the far northern tip, the low headstones stood a solitary watch over the plains below.

  Farrell knelt before the first marker, a wave of sorrow crashing over him. Pushing the tears aside, he sniffed, struggling to keep his voice from cracking.

  “Hello, Mother. It’s me, Halloran. I know I don’t come up here often enough, but it’s painful visiting, knowing I failed you. Another Winter Festival, the tenth one since you died. I still miss you. There have been times when I dreamt you were still alive and your death was just a bad dream. Then I wake up and realize it was no dream. You’re gone, and I’m to blame.

 
; “Things are better now, Mother. I met someone special, someone who I know you’d like. His name is Miceral. I wish you could meet him. He’s kind, caring, thoughtful, and all he wants from me is to love him as much as he loves me.

  “It makes me sad that he can’t meet you. He’ll never see the beautiful person you were and how you taught me what it meant to be a ruler.” Farrell’s sinuses clogged up and his face tingled. Sniffing again, he used the edge of his cloak to prevent the tears from ruining his silk tunic. Swallowing loudly, he wiped his eyes before he could continue. “You were the most special person in the world to me, and I never told you. Now that I want to tell you, I can’t.”

  The words came out as a long sob, but Farrell prayed the Six let her hear him.

  “It will be hard walking to the altar without you. You were supposed to be here to share today with me. I’m going to try to be happy. I know you’d want that. It’s easy to be happy around Miceral. He makes me smile and laugh all the time.”

  He looked to his left, and a brief smile touched his lips. Gathering his strength, he continued, “Today, when I join my life to his, I’m going to remember how much you loved me and how happy I know you’d be if you were here. I pray to Honorus that you’re somewhere happy. You deserve that much at least.

  “I love you, Mother.” Unable to hold back, he buried his face against his partner’s chest. Miceral’s strong arms gathered Farrell tight, allowing him to sob out his grief. “I miss her so much. Today it hurts worse than ever.”

  “I know, but you told her, and somehow I feel she heard you.” Miceral held Farrell until he finally gained control. He put a hand under Farrell’s chin and pushed it up. Kissing him gently, he said, “I know she meant a lot to you, and we won’t forget her. Together we’ll honor her memory every year. Every Winter Festival we’ll tell her what happened in our lives.”

  Farrell smiled, wiping the tears from his face. “I love you. You always have the words to help.”

  Moving to his right, he knelt beside the markers for Heminaltose and Sanduval. “What more can I say that I haven’t told you over the years? Today, I came to say thank you. Not only for helping make me the wizard I am, but also the man I’ve become. I want you to know I’ve almost completed your work. Next time, I won’t fail.”