Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  A small chuckle escaped the prince’s otherwise steely demeanor. “I’ll wait until they’re done before I celebrate.”

  The attacks stopped, and they could see Wesfazial and Erstad rejoining Darius and Cylinda. Farrell, using his wizard sight, watched the new attack unfold.

  “Interesting.” He nodded, impressed by what he saw. “I’m not sure I would’ve tried that, but it’s an innovative attempt.”

  “I see nothing.” Wilhelm turned to his constable, who shook his head.

  “I don’t recognize the spell, Your Majesty,” Aderic confessed. “All I see is the two Haven wizards trying to overpower the shield by brute force. What Lord Darius and Cylinda are doing, I couldn’t say.”

  Farrell never took his eyes off the shield, wanting to see the effects. “It’s called Piercing Needles, Captain.”

  He continued to watch for a moment longer, then turned toward the prince. “Erstad and Wesfazial combined their strength and focused it on one very narrow place. While they stressed that one point, Darius and Cylinda each used variations of the same spell. It’s normally used against unprotected or lightly protected troops. Thousands of slivers of energy are thrown at high speeds. Being small and powerful, they can generally pierce a weakened shield. By combining the two, Darius no doubt tried to slip a Needle through, which he hoped would give him a beachhead from which he could punch a hole.”

  “I take it he failed?” Wilhelm still watched the attempt to pierce the shield.

  “He did, but even had he gotten his one Needle through, the energy is oscillating so quickly that the hole would be gone before he could’ve exploited it.”

  The attacks continued for another twenty minutes before the four tired wizards ceased their efforts and returned. Darius went straight to Wilhelm, bowing his head before speaking.

  “Lord Wilhelm, we tried everything we could think of and didn’t even dent it.” Eyes twinkling, he smiled wildly. “Give it a few more months to charge, and we’ll be well-protected, indeed.”

  “Excellent.” Wilhelm nodded to an aide, who snapped to attention. “Lord Horgon, if you would go with my assistant, he will see that the money is transferred to Haven, and we can complete this trade.”

  Horgon inclined his head to the prince and followed the clerk out of the room. Smiling, Wilhelm turned to his guests. “And everyone is invited to a celebratory dinner to honor the new trade agreement, new alliance, and most of all, the amazing work by our friend and ally, Prince Farrell of Haven.”

  The unexpected attention gave Farrell an uneasy moment. Partially stifling a yawn, he turned red when everyone laughed. He needed a nap before the evening’s activities.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  FARRELL WOKE to find Miceral sitting on the bed, stroking his hair. “Time to get up. Dinner is in an hour.”

  Looking up through sleepy eyes, he smiled. “I love you, Miceral. I don’t tell you nearly enough, but I do.”

  Still stroking his hair, Miceral smiled back. “I see it all the time from the way you look at me. I hope you see the same feelings reflected back, because I love you more than I can say.” He bent over and kissed Farrell before he hopped off the bed.

  Reluctantly, Farrell rose to get ready. Washed and shaved, he found clothes set out for him when he returned to their room.

  Miceral held up his hands when Farrell looked his way. “Father set those out. Don’t blame me.”

  “You’re the Prince of Haven,” Horgon said, standing in the doorway. “It’s important for others to see that when they look at you.”

  As much as Farrell hated formal clothing, he couldn’t find too much fault with what Horgon had selected. Dressing quickly, he scowled at the plain gold crown sitting on a cushion.

  “A crown?” Farrell summoned it to him with a thought. “Horgon, why must I wear a crown? I’m a wizard, not a king.”

  “Actually, you are the King of Yar-del.” Miceral took the circle of gold from his partner and set it carefully on his head. “But more to the point, you are the Prince of Haven and that means you need to be both.”

  Adjusting the crown, Farrell used the mirror to stare at his partner. “Gods of Nendor, but you look good all dressed up. Why don’t we skip the party and stay here tonight?”

  “Don’t even think about it, either of you,” Horgon said, standing in the doorway, shaking his head. “The dinner is in your honor, Farrell.”

  Trying to frown, he almost laughed from the attempt. “If they’re trying to thank me for my work, shouldn’t it be fun for me? A formal dinner, no matter the reason, is never a favorite of mine.”

  Horgon looked completely unswayed. “Such a poor, suffering soul. I’m not sure how you stand the pain. Find a way to soldier through, because you’re going.”

  Slipping his hand into Miceral’s, Farrell sighed. “Has he always been like this?”

  “No, he used to be worse.” Miceral motioned toward the door, letting Farrell lead the way. “In years past, I’d have gotten a stern lecture to go with the command.”

  Horgon turned on his heel, muttering something Farrell didn’t catch, though it sounded like “children.”

  Their honor guard escorted them to a large dining hall. Farrell managed to keep in good spirits until he saw the room packed with Belsport’s social elite. Several of the guards gripped their weapons tighter when he mentioned turning Wilhelm into a field mouse and calling in the cats.

  Doing his best to keep his pace proper and not glare at the people gawking, Farrell regretted not telling Horgon to go alone. Being prince had to have some perks. They’d just taken their seats on either side of Wilhelm when he heard Darius groan and felt a surge. So much for a celebration.

  “Darius.” He gripped the older man by the arms. “Where?”

  “What’s happening?” Wilhelm stood next to him, gaze moving from Darius to Farrell.

  “My . . . my . . . lord.” Darius’s eyes rolled back until only the bottoms of his green irises were visible. Ignoring the demands of Belsport’s prince, Farrell reached into Darius’s mind to keep him conscious. Blocking the feedback from the shattered spell, Farrell steadied his friend’s pulse, allowing him to recover. Grabbing the nearest goblet, he turned the strong ale into water and gave it to Darius.

  “Where?” Farrell asked again.

  Swallowing the rest of the cup, Darius nodded. “Warehouse

  district, southeast of the Citadel.”

  “Majesty, you’re under attack.” Farrell’s eyes searched for Erstad, Wesfazial, and Cylinda, who ignored everyone and made their way to the head table. “Meglar overpowered Darius’s control of the city and opened a Door.”

  Ignoring everyone again, he searched for help. “Nerti?”

  “I felt it, Wizard.” Her tone told him she understood the seriousness of the situation. “I’m contacting Rothdin to summon aid.”

  “My thanks.” He broke the link to speak to Wilhelm.

  “Nerti is contacting Haven to send reinforcement. Erstad or Wesfazial will open a Door to bring them through.” Noting the look in the prince’s eyes, he shook his head. “My apologies if I’m giving orders in your city, but I understand the situation better than you at this point.”

  “Understood.” Wilhelm showed no signs he felt slighted by Farrell’s actions. Nodding crisply, he snapped his fingers at the nearest guards.

  Turning to his friends, Farrell spotted Miceral moving closer out of the corner of his eye. “One of you three has to stay and defend the prince and his family. Don’t leave, no matter what.”

  Wesfazial finished handing Darius a new cup of water and

  nodded. “I’ll stay here.”

  “How did this happen?” Erstad asked.

  “Meglar overpowered the lock Darius had on Belsport and opened a Door for his troops.” His mind jumped to several different issues. He barely thought about his answer.

  “How?” His mentor almost glared at him.

  The question focused him for a moment. “Must have som
ething to do with the wizard who escaped Wilhelm’s detention, but I can’t be sure.”

  Wilhelm returned with a young, scared-looking wizard constable. “I’ve sent word for Aderic, but he’s already in the city leading the counterattack.”

  “I must join him.” Darius still looked pale but seemed a bit steadier.

  Getting the barest nod from Erstad and Cylinda, Farrell fetched his battle staff from their suite. “Erstad and Cylinda will join you.” Darius motioned for the two Haven wizards and stepped off. Farrell watched for a heartbeat, then turned his attention back to Wilhelm.

  “Wilhelm, you need to stay in the Citadel. Meglar wouldn’t launch a full-scale attack through one Door. He may be after you and your family.” He wondered briefly if the prince understood the limitations of Doors and their role in warfare, but the nod he received satisfied him that Wilhelm understood enough. “Wesfazial will remain to protect you and the island.”

  “My thanks.” Wilhelm turned to the older man. “Come with me.”

  The prince spun on his heels and moved toward the exit. Without a word, Wesfazial followed. Farrell turned his attention to his task.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked Miceral.

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  Instead of answering, Farrell concentrated and executed the spell. A small flash later and Miceral wore his mail shirt and greaves with both swords strapped over his back.

  “Sorry, time is short and we need to go.” Pointing toward Horgon, he summoned his father-in-law’s armor and sword. “Horgon, will you stay with Wesfazial and Wilhelm? Other than Miceral, you’re the only one in Belsport who can challenge a Chamdon.”

  As Horgon nodded, a small tremor shook the Citadel. If Meglar’s wizards had made it this far this fast, Wilhelm must be their target. Motioning for Miceral to follow, Farrell moved toward the window.

  “We need to get to the Door and shut it down.” Holding out his hand, he stepped off the balcony once Miceral made contact.

  Around the left side of the palace, Farrell took them south. Searching for Meglar’s portal, he quickly located the magic that kept it open. “To shut the Door, I need to touch it. I’ll rebind the city once it’s gone, but unfortunately, the Door is where Meglar’s forces will be the heaviest.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Farrell felt the hint of anger in Miceral’s mental voice. “Without knowing for sure, I suspect Meglar opened the Door. It’s doubtful anyone else could have bested Darius, certainly not that fast. If he opened it, he’ll be monitoring it and will sense my attempt to take it down.”

  “And?” This time Miceral was angry. “Don’t withhold information. We’re about to run into the teeth of the storm. I need to know what we’re facing.”

  “Once Meglar feels my presence, he’ll not sit by and let a powerful wizard oppose his plans. I doubt he’ll expect what I’m going to do, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let me do it unopposed. He might try to attack me through the open Door or he might come here himself. It’s unlikely, however, that this is a full-scale invasion, so he won’t be prepared to come here. That means Meglar will attack from Zargon, which is only marginally better than being here himself.”

  Miceral didn’t answer, which made Farrell happy. He didn’t want to dwell on what would happen if his father showed up.

  “We’re almost there.” Farrell could see the glow of the Door. Figures ran in all directions, and he could hear the grunts and snarls of Chamdon as they adjusted to their new surroundings and new commands. “We need to come at the Door from the front so I can block it off while I close it. Once we get there, I need you to keep everyone off me for a minute, two at most. After the Door is down, we can leave.”

  “I’ll keep them off you as long as you need.” Farrell drew strength from the certainty in Miceral’s voice.

  Raising Miceral’s hand to his lips, Farrell kissed it. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Pulling their hands to his lips, Miceral repeated the kiss. “Don’t do anything foolish. Shut it down, and let’s get out of here.”

  An empty space about a block from the Door caught Farrell’s attention, and he quickly set them on the ground. Human soldiers, Chamdon, and the odd wizard continued to exit the open portal.

  “Straight to the Door.” Farrell pointed ahead. “I’ll clear a path for us. Just keep them off us as we pass.”

  Miceral, jaw clenched tight, nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Grasping his staff near the center with both hands, Farrell created a cocoon of violet energy about Miceral and himself. “This will protect you from magical attacks.” Separating his staff at the middle, he nodded to Miceral and charged headlong into the chaos in front of them.

  Screaming as they ran, they startled everyone in their immediate path. Farrell crossed the two staffs and sent a sheet of energy to lead the way. For a moment, they had a clear path to the Door. The wall of force went through the Door, temporarily stemming the flow of troops into Belsport.

  The pair raced past the stunned invaders, which seemed to confuse them more. Two wizard handlers sent Chamdon in the direction where Farrell and Miceral would be expected to make a stand, only to try to regain control of the confused creatures when the two moved deeper behind enemy lines.

  Halfway through the gauntlet, they encountered their first real threat when several wizards fired balls of energy at them. The attacks proved more nuisance than deterrent, but dealing with them slowed their pace. This close to their target, Farrell let loose a blistering assault.

  Several Chamdon who had avoided his initial attack charged from both sides. The need to reach their goal quickly outweighed the need to conserve energy for a prolonged fight, so he took a sledgehammer approach to killing the mindless shock troops.

  “Get ready.” He didn’t have time to check on Miceral. “I’m going to clear a path for us.”

  “Tell me when.”

  The ends of his staff bristled with power as he focused his will on the platinum caps. Running made it tricky, but he’d cast harder spells in battle many times. Satisfied he had sufficient power, he forced the tips toward each other, creating a bubble of bluish energy between them. Filling the sphere with energy, he then compacted the globe before sending it ahead of him.

  Halfway to the Door, he fired a blast of energy at the bubble. A shock wave of destruction flared from the sphere and washed over everything in the area. Those closest to the explosion died before their brains registered what had happened. Windows shattered, doors broke, several buildings lost walls, but most importantly, soldiers dropped. None of Meglar’s troops survived within a hundred-yard radius of the blast.

  The pair used the lack of resistance to sprint for the Door. Despite the reprieve, Farrell knew his attack would bring others to investigate. Just before they reached their target, a wizard and several Chamdon appeared on the Zargon side of the Door. Though the wizard stood, jaw open, frozen in place, the company of warped brutes charged headlong at Farrell. A wall of fiery green energy erupted from his hand and seared the front third of the creatures. He then hurled the corpses back toward their handler.

  Before anyone else could get through, Farrell covered the Belsport side with a sheet of flesh-dissolving energy. Several garbled screams followed by a frightened shriek told him it would be at least a few moments before anyone else attempted to rush through the Door.

  Two blocks north of their position, a knot of Chamdon and a human handler turned the corner, rushing toward them.

  “Keep them off me.” Farrell couldn’t spare the time to turn to look at Miceral. “If you can’t hold them, let me know.”

  “Handle your task and don’t worry about me.” Miceral almost sounded offended.

  Nodding without knowing if Miceral watched, Farrell probed the dark energy of the Door. It wouldn’t be long before the Chamdon attacked Miceral. He could also sense someone assailed the force field blocking the entrance from Zargon to Belsport. As he searched deeper, looking
for the newest edge of the Door, he felt the first attack on the force shield.

  “Whatever you’re going to do, make it fast.” With Miceral’s warning came the sounds of fighting nearby. “I see shapes coming from the west. I won’t be able to protect you if they attack from two directions.”

  “Almost done.” At least, so he hoped. When he heard the sounds of fighting get closer, he redoubled his efforts, knowing he didn’t have long. The attacks on the barricade he’d put in front of the Door stopped just as a dark presence probed the energy. He had run out of time.

  Dropping his staff, he grabbed the energy line composing the left side of the Door with his right hand, swung around the back, and took the other line in his left. Through his personal shields, he still felt the destructive Door energy burning his hands.

  With a short burst of will, Farrell forced as much power as he could channel through the sides of the Door and let go. A massive surge of dark energy, focused on his shield, coincided with his efforts. The air around the Door seemed to buckle outward, causing distortions he didn’t need wizard sight to see.

  The bulge crept forward, slowing as it moved. After it stopped, it suddenly snapped back, and the Door imploded in its wake. Anything not shielded on the Zargon side wouldn’t survive the explosion. From the feel of the attack, he hoped it had been Meglar, but he didn’t expect his father went anywhere without his personal shield at full power. Pity. The bards would have sung about his death for ages if he’d died in the blast.

  Success, however, did not come without a price. Despite his shields, Farrell sustained severe burns to his hands. In spots, the burns charred the flesh almost to the bone. Farrell pushed the pain aside to complete his mission. Retrieving his staff, he cast the spell and slammed his staff onto the cobbled street. Sparks flew as the metal end hit stone, and a ripple of blue-white light sped off in all directions. No one could open another Door into Belsport without his permission.

  Pain lanced through his body from his damaged hands. Despite his attempt not to, he screamed. He sank to his knees, and his staff hit the ground with a loud clank.