Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Wait.” Miceral grabbed Farrell’s arm. “I want to see what it looks like.”

  “Ral, you don’t have to do this. I’m sorry I even suggested it.”

  “I know I don’t, but I want to.” He rubbed the back of Farrell’s hand. “I want to experience the things you want to share with me.”

  He almost asked Miceral for confirmation but decided not to risk a different answer. Closing his fingers around Miceral’s hand, he opened the link to his mind. “You don’t need to close your eyes, but it might help this first time.”

  “Then what do I do?” The hint of anxiety nearly made Farrell call it off.

  “Reach out like you’re going to speak to me.” He waited until he felt Miceral’s mind touch his. “Now relax. Can you feel my tug in your head?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good, now follow it with your mind until you can see what I’m seeing.”

  Miceral’s clumsy attempt tickled Farrell, but he kept control as Miceral traced the line Farrell created to his sight. Once certain his partner saw what he did, Farrell engaged his wizard’s sight, and the lines of power flared to life.

  “Amazing!” Miceral nearly jerked his mind away, forcing Farrell to clamp down to keep it locked in. “Is this how the world looks to you?”

  “Only when I use my wizard’s sight. This is what the hidden energy lines of the permanent Doors look like dormant.” He caught himself before he looked over. “Watch as I open the Door.”

  Farrell extended his hand, moving with the slow, deliberate pace of a novice. He watched the energy engulf his hand and remembered the day Heminaltose taught him how to open a Door. A burst of light jumped from his hand to the space between the lines. The energy flattened and spread out until it filled the entire space. An instant later, a brilliant flash of light filled his wizard’s sight.

  Miceral leapt back, pulling their hands apart and breaking the link. “Great Lenore!”

  “Worth using a little mind magic to see?”

  “Only a little.”

  “Good thing what I really want to show you is more interesting. Wouldn’t want to bore you too much.” Reaching for his partner’s hand, he led them forward.

  When they cleared the Door, Farrell waved his hand, and it winked shut. “As part of my chores as a novice, I helped explore and map this tunnel. It extends at least ten miles south. Master Heminaltose believed there were other exits along the route, so I set out to find one. One day during my search, I found this place.”

  Miceral scanned the corridor before he shrugged. “What’s so special about here?”

  Farrell placed a hand on the wall and grasped an iron ring he knew only he could see. As he leaned back, the wall moved with him. Slowly the outline of a door emerged, twelve feet high and six feet wide, growing more pronounced by the second.

  “This is a side entrance.” He conjured a ball of blue energy and sent it into the opening. “The main gates are farther south.”

  “Side entrance to what?” Miceral craned his neck up and around.

  “Patience. You’ll find out soon enough.” Pointing to his left, Farrell sent the ball of light whizzing down a long, narrow corridor. Wall sconces flared to life as the globe flew past. Miceral kept quiet as they walked, examining the various scenes etched into the rock. After several minutes, the walls and ceiling disappeared, leaving them in a cavernous, column-filled room. Balls of light zoomed from behind them, finding homes in sconces about the new room. Even these proved insufficient for light to reach the vaulted ceiling.

  They walked around columns so thick, three men could join hands and not fully circle the stone supports. Light from the globe of wizard’s fire that hovered near Farrell glimmered off the precious metals and gems decorating the columns.

  Farrell pointed toward a set of massive doors, held shut by several slabs of stone, each wider than a man was tall. Hallways similar to the one they used radiated around each side of the entrance. “Come on, what we really came to see is this way.”

  Farrell led them to a wide avenue directly opposite the doors. Flanked by ten-foot statues of heavily armed dwarves, the portal felt anything but welcoming.

  “This place is amazing.” Miceral touched the cool stone almost reverently. “My people lived in Northhelm almost three millennia, and we never achieved anything close to this.”

  “This?” Farrell’s amusement leeched into his voice. “You haven’t begun to scratch the surface of amazing.”

  Their steps echoed around them as they passed dozens of stone sentries carved with such detail, Farrell expected them to leap off their perches and challenge his admittance. The air felt cooler moments before the tunnel opened on all sides. Their path ended a couple of steps beyond the tunnel, leaving them looking down on an open space. Stairs leading up and down stood empty on both sides. The small globe created tiny twinkles as it flickered over Farrell’s shoulder but otherwise failed to illuminate more than a few feet beyond the pair.

  “Give me your hand. It’s easier to fly than walk from here.”

  Miceral’s warm hand touched his, and he laced their fingers together. Slowly, Farrell pulled them off the platform and into the emptiness below. They passed a column as wide as their bedroom, drawing a whistle from Miceral.

  “Let me light our way a bit better.” Feeding his globe more energy, he sent the rapidly expanding ball higher. Beyond his sphere, a dim point of light appeared, getting brighter as the globe approached. A heartbeat later, an enormous flash blinded the pair.

  Farrell felt Miceral’s hand nearly crush his before the pressure eased back. “Honorus’s balls, Farrell, you could have warned me.”

  “Sorry. It’s been a while and I forgot how bright the flash is.”

  “What just happened?”

  Farrell smiled and swept his arm around the now lit cavern. Visible below, a city larger than Belsport sat in eerie silence. Wide boulevards ran straight and true north/south and east/west, creating perfect grids filled with low stone buildings. A hundred feet above the floor, an empty balcony ringed the entire cavern. Rows of windows stretched skyward, reaching at least a third of the way to the ceiling.

  Across from them, at the far end of the city, a wide swath of ground sat empty and unused. Above this open space, temples to the gods stood lonely watch over the abandoned city.

  “How’s this for amazing?” Farrell asked.

  The smile Miceral flashed him said more than words. “Beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. I can’t believe you kept this from me this long.”

  “Hey!” He moved the pair westward toward the temples. “I need to keep a few surprises or else you’ll tire of me before long.”

  Leaning over, he kissed Farrell’s cheek. “Never happen.”

  Fumbling for a comeback, Farrell pointed up. “To answer your earlier question about the light, there’s an incredible crystal in the roof of this chamber. It is massive, easily bigger than our entire suite. The crystal collects and stores light, then amplifies it before releasing it slowly. My little ball of light will fuel the crystal for weeks if I don’t turn it off.”

  Given the deceptive size of the city, Farrell increased their speed. The temples drew closer, revealing their true size. Honorus’s empty home sat in the center, bordered by three more on each side. All seven showed signs of destruction and decay.

  “This city is so old, worship to Neldin was still common.”

  “Neldin?” Miceral stared hard at the looming buildings. “When did anyone ever worship the God of Evil?”

  “When the world was new, Neldin was the God of the Dead, not of evil. While death wasn’t worshipped, offerings were still made in the name of the dead. Heminaltose’s research suggested it was never large, but it was active.”

  Miceral nodded. “That makes sense, I suppose. But which temple is his?”

  “His temple would have been immediately to the right of Honorus’s, where we find Khron’s temple now. Seritia’s temple is also destroyed, and there is damage t
o each of the other five.”

  “An odd pairing.” Miceral turned toward Farrell. “I mean, it’s odd that the temples of the Goddess of Love and of Death were destroyed.”

  “Indeed. It’s a mystery we never solved.” He flew them closer to a temple to the right of Neldin’s. “Khron’s temple also saw fierce fighting, if the scars on the walls are any indication. But if I remember my lessons correctly, dwarves generally worship the God of War, so it makes sense.”

  “Are there any hints as to what happened?”

  “None.” Farrell shook his head. “Well, none other than the worst fighting happened around the temples.”

  “A religious war?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He lowered them onto the stone balcony. “For much of recorded history, the temples controlled most aspects of life. Did you know that in Kel’s time, the temples trained wizards? So it’s possible the temples in this city controlled the army as well.”

  Farrell’s foot kicked a spearhead that clanked as it moved. Kneeling, Miceral turned the hammered steel in his hand. “Since we can’t go back in time, I suspect we will never know for sure.”

  “Maybe,” Farrell said absently.

  Miceral stopped walking. “Are you joking? You can travel back in time?”

  “No, of course not.” Shaking his head quickly, he started walking. “No one can go back in time, but I have a theory on how I can look back through time. I’ve not tried it, but I’m sure it will work.”

  Miceral shook his head, laughing. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Sure, there are many things I can’t do—yet.” He gave Miceral a wink. “But give me time. I’m still young for a wizard.”

  Miceral pulled him close for a quick kiss. “In that case, how about you find us a place to eat lunch.”

  “The top of Honorus’s temple has a great view of the city.”

  “That sounds good.” Miceral snatched his hand back when Farrell reached for him. “No flying. Now that you’re fully healed, we can take the steps. The exercise will be good for you.”

  LEANING BACK, Farrell bit into an apple, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweet juice that dribbled down his chin. Miceral sat an arm’s length away, twirling a straw in his hand as he stared at the ceiling. The day couldn’t have turned out better. He almost didn’t want to go back, but he’d promised Erstad they’d talk about what he’d found on the plains.

  “We should get going.” He tossed the core over the side of the temple. Snapping his right hand out, he made the apple disappear with a pop. “I’ll just open a Door and—”

  A loud thud from behind cut him off as the entire ledge shook. He spun around, spell at the ready, then quickly sank to his knees. Miceral joined him, bowing his head in the process.

  “HAIL AND WELL MET, FARRELL, SERVANT OF HONORUS. IT IS HIGH TIME YOU CAME HERE SO THAT I MIGHT FULFILL MY PROMISE TO MY FOLLOWERS.”

  “Holy Khron, how may I serve you?”

  Khron strode forward. Unlike His siblings, He didn’t use an avatar; He appeared as Himself. The silver armor radiated its own light. Even the shaft of His spear twinkled when He planted it on the stone rooftop.

  “LONG HAVE MY DWARVES WAITED FOR YOU TO COME TO TRELLHAM.” Khron’s booming voice—no astral projection—echoed throughout the cavern. “YOU HAVE MY LEAVE TO RISE AND LOOK ON ME AS FAVORED WARRIORS.”

  Farrell stared at the massive boot inches from his body. Standing as directed, he peered skyward at the towering thirty-foot god before him. A plumed helmet blocked most of Khron’s face, revealing only His mouth and eyes.

  Before he could speak, Khron smiled. “MICERAL, I AM PLEASED YOU AND THE SERVANT OF MY BROTHER, HONORUS, HAVE FOUND YOUR WAY TO EACH OTHER AS WE HAD DECREED.”

  “Great Khron.” Miceral averted his eyes once he earned the God of War’s attention. “How can I serve you?”

  “AFTER MY DECEITFUL BROTHER BROUGHT DEATH AND RUIN TO TRELLHAM, I SAVED WHAT FEW DWARVES WERE LEFT, HIDING THEM IN THIS PROUD CITY. FOR TOO LONG HAVE THEY SUFFERED, WAITING TO BE FREED. YOU, FARRELL, MUST SET THEM FREE.”

  Farrell bowed his head to hide his expression. How in Honorus’s name could he free the dwarves? “Great Khron, I do not understand.”

  “ALL WILL BE MADE CLEAR WHEN YOU SPEAK TO MY HIGH PRIEST. HE AWAITS YOU IN THE REMAINS OF MY TEMPLE. ALL THAT HAS BEEN HIDDEN WILL BE REVEALED. CHOSEN ARE YOU BY MY ELDER SIBLINGS, HONORUS, LENORE, AND ARRITISA. CHOSEN ARE YOU NOW BY ME. ADD MY BLESSINGS TO THOSE OF MY BRETHREN.”

  Khron’s form began to fade, turning translucent as he left this plane.

  “FULFILL YOUR DESTINY, SON OF THE HOUSE OF KEL. FREE MY DWARVES.”

  Chapter Three

  CLENCHING HIS fists tight, Farrell closed his eyes before exhaling. “Damn.”

  “What’s wrong?” Miceral gently rubbed Farrell’s back.

  “I’m tired of being Chosen.” He half-expected Falcron and Seritia to appear before he could get away.

  “Why?” He stopped massaging Farrell’s back to turn him gently around. “They’re trying to help you.”

  “By giving me another task?” Farrell shook his head. It didn’t matter. Khron made clear what he wanted. “Shall we get this over with?”

  Miceral stared at him, not moving. Farrell waved his hand, collecting their basket and blanket. Once organized, he sent the lot back to their room.

  “Khron wants us to go to His temple. If we attempt to leave before we do, He’ll probably block the way home.”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t want to go.” Miceral motioned toward the steps, but Farrell held out his hand.

  “Let’s fly. We don’t need any more surprises.” As soon as Miceral took his hand, Farrell made for Khron’s temple.

  They flew over the shattered remains that once housed Neldin’s worshippers. From prior expeditions, Farrell knew whoever—or whatever—leveled the structure used power on a scale hard to imagine. He found evidence of melted rock, and there were hardly any stones larger than his fist anywhere in the area.

  Khron’s temple looked more like a fortress than a house of worship. Turrets marked the four corners of the blocky, solid structure. Every ten feet an angry, powerful-looking, forty-foot stone dwarf statue kept a vigilant watch over every avenue of approach. The battlements showed signs that siege engines had fired upon them, and the sluices appeared well-used. If the walls could talk, no doubt they’d tell of the fierce battle once fought here.

  He brought them down before the lone entrance. Facing out over the city, a brace of stone dwarves guarded the doors. The warriors stood at attention, their spears held upright in the hands closest to the entrance. Farrell searched the pair for signs of magic but found nothing.

  They stopped before the steps. One of the twelve-foot-thick doors stood partially open. Collecting power, Farrell readied a strong shield. “That was closed when we arrived.”

  “And?” Miceral began climbing the steps. “How else were we going to get inside?”

  “You think we should walk in? Just like that?”

  “Farrell.” Miceral paused, motioning for his partner to join him. “If Khron hadn’t paid us a visit, I might be suspicious. But He told us to come here.”

  Farrell closed his eyes and reached out his right hand. With a silent flash, his favorite black staff appeared in his hand.

  “Anticipating trouble?”

  “No.” He spun the staff once, then placed it on his back. “But it’s better to have it now than to try to fetch it during a fight.”

  Climbing the seven steps, Farrell stared up at the statue to his left. The stone eyes seemed to follow their movement. They crossed the threshold into the vestibule, and he realized he’d been holding his breath. Slowly he exhaled.

  Light from the crystal only extended a few feet into the windowless room. Farrell created a bright globe of energy, but before he could send it into the dark temple, the entire building erupted with light.

  Farrell raised his shields and drew his staff
in one fluid motion. A pace away, Miceral stared at him in silence. When nothing happened, Farrell lowered the shield and shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Miceral silently took the lead, walking deeper into Khron’s inner sanctum. Still on edge, Farrell scanned their surroundings. The main chapel glowed from the light of a thousand flames. Neither wizard’s fire nor real flame. Farrell recognized the hand of the divine in the flickering lights.

  A massive throne, large enough for Khron to sit upon, maintained a silent vigil over the sea of empty stone pews. Miceral led them down the wide center aisle as Farrell extended his senses. Whatever Khron meant for them to find had to be here. He just needed—

  Farrell spun to his right, his staff held across his body.

  Miceral turned with Farrell. “What…?”

  “Greetings, Chosen.” An old dwarf, dressed in the plain gray robe of a priest, leaned on an ornate golden crosier. His bushy eyebrows rose as a smile appeared under his full gray beard. “I am Father Aswick, High Priest of Khron. Welcome to Trellham.”

  Farrell lowered his staff and moved closer to Miceral. “Greetings, Holy Father. Thank you for your welcome. I am Farrell.”

  “Farrell? No other title?” A twinkle of amusement danced in the dwarf’s steel gray eyes.

  “Just Farrell will be fine.”

  “Very well, then, Just Farrell.” He nodded before turning his attention to Miceral. “The hand of Khron is strong on you. You are a chosen, but not His first.”

  “I’m Miceral, Farrell’s life partner.”

  “Indeed.” Aswick seemed amused by their exchange.

  “Forgive our intrusion, but holy Khron directed us to come speak to you.” Farrell returned his staff to his back. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

  Smoothing the front of his robe, Father Aswick shook his head. “No bother at all. I apologize, however, for my appearance. In my haste to greet you, there wasn’t time to don the formal robes of my office.”