Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “I may be, but I’m also certain—” Farrell pulled up, staring at the corner of the Blue Marlin. “We’ve got a problem. Someone’s using dark magic inside the inn.”

  “Are you sure?” Miceral’s hand immediately went to his sword. “I mean, you can tell it’s not regular magic from this far away?”

  “Yes.” Ignoring the questioning look from his partner, Farrell restrained himself from running back to the inn. His increased pace quickly brought them to the front entrance, where Galthus stood scanning the street.

  “Galthus, what’s happening?” Farrell’s voice caused the man to jump. When he recognized the pair, his face relaxed slightly.

  “Masters Halloran and Miceral, thank the Six you’ve returned.” He grabbed each of the guests by the shoulder. “Two wizards came in demanding to stay in your suite. Well, Master Jarvis told them no and—”

  “They asked specifically for our suite?” Farrell shot Miceral a worried look.

  “Yes—I mean not your—I . . ..”

  “Calm down.” Miceral put his hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Now, tell us . . . slowly. . . what happened.”

  “Two wizards marched in and demanded they be given the room on the top floor that overlooked the Citadel. They told Master Jarvis to get the key and take them forthwith. Master Jarvis explained the suite was rented, but they could secure accommodation if they had the required fee. That did not sit well with them. The older one set Master Jarvis’s tunic and arm on fire.”

  “Describe what they were wearing.” Farrell knew the answer but needed to be sure.

  “They wore the black and red of Zargon.” Galthus spat out the last word. “They’ve been making trouble in the city for a while, but this is the first time they’ve come to the Blue Marlin.”

  Farrell scanned the area for anyone else. “Have you sent word to the constables?”

  “Of course.” Galthus nodded vigorously. “I’m waiting for them to arrive.”

  Before Farrell could answer, he felt magic being worked in the area of the inn where their rooms were located. “They’re trying to break the seal I put on the room.”

  “Wait here,” Farrell told Galthus, stepping around the still-shaken man. “I’ll take care of them until the constables arrive.”

  “My lord!” The panic in the doorman’s voice caused Farrell to whip his head around. “There are two of them to just one of you. Shouldn’t you wait?”

  “I know it’s not fair to them, but if they wanted to pick a fight, they should’ve brought more people.” He gave the older man a wink.

  “Don’t get cocky,” Miceral said.

  “Don’t worry. I can handle this.” Reaching out for his spell, he found the wards holding as expected. “They’re still trying to get inside our suite.”

  “Can they get through?” Miceral followed a step behind.

  “Not unless it’s Meglar trying, and even he would have a problem.”

  Farrell felt a second attempt before they reached Jarvis. A cook and an elderly maid tended the innkeeper’s wound. They had carefully cut away the charred cloth to reveal a nasty, oozing burn.

  “Sorry, Ral, this looks like the end of our trip.” Farrell gently moved the maid to the side. “We can’t let them hurt these people.”

  “Why not leave it to the local authorities?”

  “Doubtful they’ll get here in time. They’ve stopped trying to break into our suite, so they’re probably on their way down already.”

  The cook, the large knife shaking in his hand, moved back toward the kitchen, tugging on the older woman. Farrell crouched down, carefully holding Jarvis’s arm parallel to the ground.

  “Galthus told me they burned you when you tried to keep them from our room.” Farrell noted the glazed look he’d seen so many times before on people in pain. “I’m sorry this happened, but I can help.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Farrell passed his staff over the man’s injuries. After the third pass, the red, blistering skin disappeared, leaving it only slightly pinker than the rest.

  Pushing the barest amount of power through his staff, Farrell sent a scan through the inn, looking for the wizards. “Be alert, Miceral. They’re on the stairs.”

  Farrell stepped back just before two men entered the common room. The black tunics with red trim announced their allegiance to Zargon and, by extension, Meglar.

  “Innkeeper!” The older man snarled. “This key wouldn’t open the door. Perhaps if I light your head on fire, you’ll give me the right key.”

  Farrell turned his wizard’s sight on the pair. The one who spoke was a master wizard of average strength. The younger man would never get beyond wizard class.

  “It won’t open because I don’t want you in my room.” Farrell’s voice seemed to surprise the pair. He rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. This scum is the best Meglar can dredge up?”

  “Why are you taunting them?” Miceral didn’t hide the annoyance in his voice. “If you keep them busy long enough, the constables can handle this.”

  “I’ll try.” Farrell never took his focus off the glaring master wizard. “But I like my way better.”

  “You won’t live long enough to regret insulting me, whelp.” Without warning, the gray-haired man pointed his hand at Farrell’s chest. The ball of energy drew loud gasps when it exploded on contact.

  Waiting for the light to dissipate, Farrell fixed an evil grin on his face. His adversary’s stunned expression quickly turned into a frown. Farrell let the man study him for a moment before moving away from the others.

  “As I said, pathetic. First you ignore me, then you insult me with a ridiculous attack even a novice could block.” Circling, he moved to place himself between the wizards and the exit. “Does that idiot Meglar know how worthless you are?”

  “Watch your tongue.” The man’s eyes narrowed. Farrell felt him extend a link with his companion. “No one insults the emperor.”

  “I’m not afraid of Meglar.” From the corner of his left eye, Farrell saw Miceral herding the others behind a pillar. “You two, however, should be worried about me.”

  The Zargonian wizard laughed, not a nervous laugh, but a genuinely amused one. “Your aura is no brighter than the novice’s beside me. You won’t best us, let alone the mighty Meglar.”

  “If that’s true, you should have no trouble defeating me.” Farrell shrugged, trying to look as unconcerned as he felt. “But considering you couldn’t break the seal on my room and your first attack was completely ineffective, I’m not afraid.”

  “Then know fear, fool!” The wizard drew energy from his companion and sent a second, more powerful strike toward Farrell. This one washed over his personal shields, scorching the rug around him.

  “Time’s up,” he sent Miceral.

  Waving his staff overhead, Farrell surrounded the two wizards and himself with an energy shield to protect the others. When the pair turned their focus from the newly raised shield to Farrell, he brought his staff down with a thud. “My turn.”

  Four balls of blue energy shot from the end of the staff in rapid succession. The younger man flew backward, his personal shields unable to stop the two bolts of power directed at him. He died before he hit the wall.

  Although his shield managed to slow the first attack, the master wizard fared no better than his apprentice. The first ball shattered his defenses, singeing his clothing, before the second strike tore a hole in his chest.

  The smell of burnt flesh permeated the common area, accompanied by a faint crackling sound coming from the two lifeless bodies. No one spoke, but just stared at them.

  “Too late you learned the folly of following Meglar.” After dissolving his shield, Farrell knelt and ran his staff over the man, collecting what little energy the dead wizard retained.

  Before Farrell rejoined Miceral, two wizards wearing constable clothing entered the inn. Without speaking, the lead wizard cast a spell over the entire room. Feeling the magic wash over his shields, Farrell d
etermined the constable meant to immobilize everyone.

  Farrell returned his staff to his back when the constable walked past him to check on the two downed wizards. “They’re dead.”

  Both constables turned toward him, staffs pointed in his direction. Careful not to make any sudden movements, he kept his hands where they could see them. “Before you attempt to freeze me again, perhaps you should hear what I have to say. If I wanted, I could have killed you both when you turned your backs to me.”

  Neither lowered their staffs, nor did they release the power they had ready for use. “Despite the fact you just attacked me, I’m not your enemy.” Keeping his shields up, Farrell slowly spread his arms wide, then locked them behind his back. When they didn’t attack, he continued. “Those two set the innkeeper on fire when he wouldn’t give them access to my room. When they couldn’t get past the wards I placed there, they threatened to set Master Jarvis on fire again. I came to his defense, and that’s when they attacked me. Twice. Unlike your spell, his tried to peel the flesh from my body. When they attacked a second time, I responded. You can hardly hold me accountable because they couldn’t defend themselves. Ask the innkeeper and his staff if you doubt my words.”

  With a flick of his hand, he unfroze the others. The constable raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react.

  “He speaks the truth, good constables.” Jarvis moved forward to come between the officers and Farrell. “Had he not arrived when he did, those two would have roasted me alive.”

  Showing him the burned sleeve, he pointed to the dead wizards. “They showed up and demanded I give them, not rent, but give them the suite that overlooked the Citadel. Not only did that make me suspicious, it was also out of the question. I told them it was rented already, but we had other very nice accommodations they could have for the appropriate fee. The older one sneered at me and demanded the key to the Prince’s Suite. When I refused, he set me on fire.”

  Intentionally or not, Jarvis rubbed the newly healed skin. “It only lasted a few seconds, but then he said if I didn’t want to burn to death, I’d give him the keys. To my shame, I did. Little did I know Master Halloran was a powerful wizard. He added his own magic to the protective spells we put on all our rooms.

  “Master Halloran had healed my burn when they came back and threatened to finish what they started. The gray-haired wizard attacked Master Halloran without warning.”

  The constable nodded as if listening, but Farrell heard the soft noise of magic. Scanning the pair, he felt the head constable directing energy through his amulet.

  “We need to go, Miceral. They’re calling someone. Probably reinforcements.” Staring at the pair, he shook his head. “Join me so I can shield you in case this turns into a fight.”

  “Do you think it’ll come to that?” Miceral moved closer, drawing the attention of the officers.

  “It may, but I’ll do my best not to hurt them.” Before either of the officers could react, Farrell extended his shields around Miceral. “I can send a diplomatic mission once we’re home to explain it to Prince Wilhelm.”

  Moving to the left of Jarvis, Miceral and Farrell angled toward the stairs.

  “Master Jarvis.” The man turned to face Farrell. “The constables don’t believe you; they’ve called for backup.”

  “Stay where you are!” the one on Farrell’s right said. “You’re a suspect in the death of these two men. The prince will want to question you.” Keeping their staves pointed at him and Miceral, the pair looked nervously at each other.

  “You know you can’t stop me from leaving.” Farrell moved closer to the stairs. “I’d rather not reduce the ranks of the prince’s constables, so you’d be wise not to attack me while you wait for Darius to arrive.”

  Again the constables exchanged uncertain looks. Using the distraction, Farrell pointed to the stairs. “Go ahead. I’ll make sure they don’t follow.”

  “Understood.” Miceral moved as Farrell directed. Before they could leave, several constables entered the inn, followed by an older wizard with an ornate staff. He had his steel-gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, keeping it from his weathered, tan skin. A spark of recognition flashed in the older man’s sea-green eyes.

  “Go, I’ll handle this.” Farrell motioned with his left hand for Miceral to continue.

  “Are you sure you’ll be safe?” Miceral stopped two steps ahead of Farrell.

  “Yes, that’s Darius, the prince’s chief wizard. We know each other. I doubt he’ll do anything, knowing who I am, at least not without consulting Prince Wilhelm first.”

  “Prince Farrell,” Darius said, using his hand to stay the other constables. “No one knew you were in Belsport. You should have informed us of your visit.”

  “This was strictly a personal trip. Miceral and I are celebrating our union. Had we announced our arrival, Prince Wilhelm would’ve turned it into a state visit.” Noting how Darius’s gaze kept moving toward the dead wizards, Farrell bolstered his shields, keeping an offensive spell ready.

  Darius finally turned toward Jarvis. “What happened here, sir?”

  Jarvis quickly recounted the same story he’d told the constables. The frown on Darius’s face did little to ease Farrell’s tension. Outnumbered, he needed to be cautious or people, Darius among them, could end up dead.

  “Here for vacation, and it just happens to end in a fight that kills two of Meglar’s wizards.” Darius pointed to the dead bodies. “The same Meglar you are mortal enemies with. Do you see where I’m going with this?” Darius’s words and body language told Farrell to leave.

  “If you mean to suggest this was an amazing coincidence, then I do. But if you mean to suggest I came to Belsport to pick a fight with Meglar’s wizards so I could kill them, then you’re a fool. Perhaps I misjudged you and Belsport. I thought you recognized the grave danger Meglar represents, but you allow them free run of the city.”

  The older man’s eyes narrowed and his lips pinched tight. “You have no idea what’s happening, so mind your tongue. No one invited these wizards to our city, but Prince Wilhelm treads carefully to avoid Meglar’s wrath.”

  “Then the prince is a fool.” One of the constables moved to his left, but Darius grabbed his arm to keep him in place. “You cannot appease Meglar. There is capitulation or defeat, nothing else.”

  “Your view is clouded where Meglar is concerned. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Biased or not, my words are true.” One of the constables looked expectantly back toward the door. “As nice as it is to chat with you, I’m going now.”

  “Wait.” The urgency in Darius’s voice confirmed Farrell’s suspicions. “I have a few more questions.”

  Laughing, Farrell shook his head. “You think me that much a fool, Darius? You’re stalling until you get the numbers on your side. No, I’m leaving. Perhaps we’ll meet again, though I doubt I’ll return again without an army behind me to ensure my freedom.”

  “You know I can’t let you go.” Darius motioned for the other wizards to fan out. “This incident requires an inquiry. Prince Wilhelm will not be happy if I let you leave.”

  “What pleases Wilhelm has no bearing on my decision.” Farrell’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the older man. “We both know you can’t stop me.”

  “And we both know I have to try.” Despite his words, Darius made no overt move to stop Farrell.

  “I do.” Farrell increased his shield further and anchored it to the stairway wall. “But as I said, you can’t stop me from leaving.”

  “My lord,” one of the constables spoke, drawing Darius’s attention.

  “Be silent, Constable.” The older wizard never took his eyes from Farrell.

  “Darius, you would be wise to remind Wilhelm that there are two forces on this continent worth fearing: Meglar and myself. My army is far closer to Belsport than Meglar’s. At some point, I might be the only thing standing between Belsport and Meglar. It would be unwise, to say the least, to make me your enemy. I suggest you sp
eak to Wilhelm before you raise a finger against me and start what I promise will end in Belsport’s destruction.”

  Darius maintained eye contact for a moment more, then turned to the constable closest to him. “Do nothing while I’m gone.” He opened a Door and stepped through, closing the portal behind him.

  Farrell further reinforced the shield across the stairway. It wouldn’t deter Darius and the constables for long, but they couldn’t charge after him, either.

  Miceral had everything packed when Farrell returned. Ignoring his partner, Farrell moved toward a blank wall and began opening a Door home.

  “Things went that well?” Miceral brought their saddlebags to where Farrell stood.

  “Belsport has taken the tack of appeasing Meglar.” He kept his eyes on the Door. “Darius expects me to submit to questioning regarding the death of Meglar’s wizards. I let him know that wouldn’t happen and any attempt to take me into custody would be considered an act of war. He left right after I said that, presumably to speak with Prince Wilhelm. I think we’re better served to go home and let the diplomats deal with this.”

  He was just locking the third point of the Door when he felt magic wash over the room. “Farrell, this is Darius. I have Prince Wilhelm with me. He wants to talk with you. Please lower your barrier so we can come up.”

  Farrell ignored the request, locking in the fourth point. He pushed out with his will until the foyer of their personal suite shimmered into focus. Spinning away from the Door, he put his left hand under his chin and whispered a spell. Opening his fingers, he said, “Darius, you and Wilhelm may come up. Bring anyone else, and I’ll be gone before you get here.”

  He closed his fist and turned to Miceral. “Go now. I’m staying only long enough to tell them they can come to Haven if they want to speak with me. Have Klissmor alert Horgon, Erstad, and Wesfazial.”

  “Farrell—”

  “Please, don’t argue.” Using magic, Farrell sent the bags through the Door. “I’ll be fine. With the Door open, I can get away before Darius can launch a spell. If you stay, he could try to attack you to get to me.”