Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “How? I cannot say other than it was the will of Seritia. I only know he lived in the city, unable to touch another living being. Eventually he died alone and broken.”

  Farrell had kept his doubts to himself, but this bit of information broke his self-control. “How could Kel know this? He wasn’t here.”

  “The high priestess told him,” Jolella said. “What happened to Amelt Jazor is well documented in our history. Jazor could touch physical objects, sit in a chair, eat his meals, but he was not permitted contact with any other person. He could not touch anyone, nor could anyone hear his voice when he spoke.”

  “Did he know what happened to you and everyone else?” Miceral asked.

  Randgar shrugged. “I have no way of knowing. We didn’t know what happened to the rest of our people. In truth, we barely understood what had happened to us. To me, when Kel arrived, it seemed as if only a few hours had passed. My generals and I were organizing search parties to find a way out. We expected Seritia had dealt with my brother in a different way but didn’t realize what form that had taken. We also assumed our families had been spared our fate. Learning they’d been punished, too, was not welcome news.”

  “It would seem Her punishment of them was more a blessing.” Everyone turned to Nerti. “Had She left them alone, you’d not be reunited with them today.”

  “And they’d have grieved for your loss the rest of their days,” Jolella added.

  Farrell only half-listened to Jolella’s answer. Nerti’s comment confirmed his suspicion.

  “Does this make sense to you, Ral?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does this really seem like She punished any of them? Including the army?”

  “She put them in the void for more than three thousand years. That’s not just a simple reprimand.”

  “Except it wasn’t for three thousand years.” He spoke the words and looked at Jolella. “Seritia never meant to punish the Children of Zeron, did she?”

  Jolella raised an eyebrow and opened her eyes a bit wider. “You don’t find what the Blessed Mother did to the Ze’arderians for Jazor’s sin to be a harsh price?”

  Her words sounded sincere, but rather than answer her, Farrell turned to Randgar. “When you marched out of Agloth, did the world still worship Neldin?”

  “Still?” Randgar cocked his head to the left. “What do you mean? Of course some worship Neldin. He is one of the Seven.”

  Farrell noted Penelope’s look of surprise. “Like I said, Seritia didn’t exact retribution on the Children of Zeron.”

  “What are you talking about?” Randgar’s angry glare might have alarmed Farrell except he knew he was right.

  “Seritia didn’t punish you. She saved you.”

  “If you think where we found ourselves was a blessing, Chosen, you may be more of a zealot then I believed. We’ve been separated from our loved ones for three thousand years—”

  “You said it doesn’t even feel like you’ve been gone a day.” He waited for Randgar to process his answer.

  “But my brother?”

  “Yes.” Farrell nodded and shifted his gaze to Jolella. “He paid the ultimate price for what Seritia did to your people.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Brother.” Takala’s voice broke the silence following Farrell’s accusation. “Have a care what you say in Seritia’s home. One does not blame the gods for the actions of men.”

  “Agreed, but then this wasn’t really orchestrated by Jazor, was it, Holy Mother?”

  The priestess’s face pinched tight. “I do not like what you imply, Chosen.”

  “Holy Mother, I’m not implying, I’m stating the truth. Seritia manipulated Jazor to reach this result.” He searched the room until he found Nerti’s gaze. She didn’t say or do anything, but Farrell knew she agreed with him. “None of this makes sense otherwise.”

  “You believe the Blessed Mother tricked my brother into bringing ruin onto our people?” Randgar looked as scandalized as he sounded.

  “Other than your brother, how were your people harmed? When you go to sleep tonight, it will feel like an ordinary day has passed. You weren’t separated from your loved ones nor they from you. Everything that was done was to ensure you and your people would be here today.”

  “Farrell, you’re not making sense,” Miceral said. “Why would Seritia do something so terrible to Her people for any reason?”

  “That’s just it, Ral, nothing bad actually happened to the Children of Zeron—other than to Jazor, of course.” This time when he glanced at Nerti, he got a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. “Think about it. Jazor was about to lead his people into a war he would probably have lost.”

  “We would not have lost.” Randgar’s words felt like a challenge.

  “Yes, you would have,” Nerti said. “The northern kingdoms were far stronger than Jazor believed. Had you made it to your old lands, you would have been surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered.”

  Having Nerti’s support gave Farrell more confidence in his position. “A few centuries after Seritia sent your people into the void, Neldin started a war with His Siblings. The Six nearly lost the fight, and Nendor was one miscue by our side away from watching the hordes of Neblor overrunning the world. You were Seritia’s insurance against that event.”

  Everyone appeared less skeptical. Everyone except Jolella.

  “If that was Seritia’s plan, why not release them once the danger had passed?” the priestess asked. “She had no cause to keep them there, if you are correct.”

  “As you said, Holy Mother, the danger had passed. It wasn’t gone for good.” Farrell shrugged. “Doesn’t it seem a bit too contrived that Seritia released them because they guarded the Heart and the Hand? What did Amelt Randgar and his army do to safeguard the Gifts?”

  Randgar shook his head. “We didn’t even know what he left or how to find it.”

  “Exactly. Yet you earned your freedom simply because I retrieved an object hidden by Seritia in what I can only surmise is some permanent pocket in the void—how that’s possible I can’t even begin to understand. And it’s at a time when the Six are gathering their forces to battle Neldin again. Her timing couldn’t have been better to release you.”

  “Though we have no special knowledge, Klissmor and I are in agreement with what Farrell suggests. Clearly Seritia planned to have Her guardians present for this fight.”

  “I still don’t understand why She needed to pun—hide them for this long. Once the first war ended, why not let them return to their lives?” Jolella asked.

  “Agreed.” Randgar stood up and walked to the table to retrieve the pitcher. “Had Seritia released us, my people would have grown in number.”

  “Would they?” Farrell shook his head when Randgar offered to refill his cup. “In theory, your people could have grown. Or they could have diminished. Or they could have grown soft and not have been a warrior people after more than three thousand years living in Agloth with no enemy to test them.”

  “Or maybe Seritia couldn’t hide you away a second time if the need arose?” Penelope added. “Whatever the reason, I agree with Farrell. We may not know why She did it, but it seems obvious that Seritia manipulated events to ensure your army was here at this pivotal moment.”

  “Perhaps Kel left you some answers,” Jolella said in a hopeful voice. “He seemed to know a lot about what had happened. It is possible he wrote it down for you.”

  Farrell laughed and lifted the thick, leather-bound book. “That doesn’t sound like Kel, but he could surprise me. It is a long book.”

  “Chosen.” Randgar stood up and bowed to Farrell. “I shall leave you to your book. When I woke this morning, we were heading out on a military campaign, and I was merely the brother to the amelt. Now three thousand years and more have passed, the amelt has died, and my people need answers. I fear this will take me the rest of the day and more to sort out, so please do not be offended if I can’t return until tomorrow.”

 
; “Of course not, Your Majesty.” Farrell stood with the others and bowed. “Take what time you need. We won’t leave without speaking to you again.”

  Randgar didn’t come back that day. Early the next morning, the amelt sent a messenger with his apologies and his regrets that it might be a day or two before he could return. Grohl and Takala heard grumblings that pointed to some Ze’arderians not being as supportive of Randgar becoming the new amelt as the military.

  Those who supported Amelt Jazor’s plans to reclaim their lost lands rallied around his widow, who didn’t agree with her brother-in-law’s decree to cancel the military campaign. Her efforts to derail Randgar’s coronation ended when Jolella announced Seritia would not accept any other amelt. The subtle hint that the last time Ze’arder defied the Goddess didn’t end well proved sufficient to end the dissent immediately.

  Farrell used the time to rest and read Kel’s book while some of his companions explored the city. On the third day after meeting Randgar, while the others were out, Farrell returned to the house where Kel had hidden the Hand and the Heart.

  Unlike the other dwellings surrounding it, the building was protected by a company of guards. They watched him as he walked up.

  “Chosen.” The guard bowed slightly. “This house is off-limits.”

  “Not to me.” He tried not to sound too pompous, but he wouldn’t let them stand in his way. “My business is inside this place.”

  “Amelt Randgar has forbidden all to enter this building. Without—”

  Farrell moved his hands apart, and the guards stumbled back. “My apologies, but my need is great. If the amelt has a problem with what I’m doing, he can speak to Seritia about the actions of Her Chosen.”

  Entering the void a second time went smoother than the first. The room had remained since he left, and the door didn’t disappear when he closed it. Farrell moved to the spot where Kel would emerge and lifted his legs so he hovered over the site. Settled, he extended his sense and searched the magics. It took several attempts before his probe of the spells yielded what he needed. Once he found the right thread, he ceased his investigation.

  Sliding his hand into his pocket, he summoned a small Cytus staff. The cool wood on his fingers should have been enough for him to remove the object, but he held it inside the pocket as he grappled with his next move. Either he continued with his plan, or he left without the answers he wanted—nay, needed. If he’d miscalculated, however, he risked not only losing Kel’s image forever; he might also dissolve the spells keeping the pocket of the void attached to the door.

  He checked his work again, confident he’d done everything correctly. He removed the staff and gently he placed it on the floor at the edge of the intricate network of spells that generated Kel’s likeness. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his will into the lattice of magic beneath him and floated back.

  The energy flared, and when it faded, Kel stood, confused.

  “Grandson?”

  “Good morning, Grandfather.”

  Kel stared at the staff Farrell had placed on the ground. “And what is that?”

  “A Cytus wood staff to help power your spell.”

  “Why is it there?” Kel had a deep frown on his face.

  “Your spell ran out of energy, and I still had questions.”

  “I know you did, but I told you that the spell would take several weeks to recharge.” This was the first time Farrell had heard Kel upset. “Why are you risking the integrity of the spell?”

  Kel’s anger hinted at something more than just the failure of this spell. “I didn’t wish to wait that long.”

  “I had thought you wiser than this.” Kel’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Farrell. “Shoving power into the spell will do nothing to replenish the energy.”

  “Naturally, but I found the power component and connected it to the storage vessel. There is enough energy in that Cytus wood to last all day and then some. You’ve no excuse to leave this time.”

  Emotions played across the older man’s face. His initial confusion shifted to surprise, followed quickly by a wide grin. “Did you now? Weren’t you worried you might destroy the entire structure of the spell?”

  “Yes, but . . .” Farrell shrugged.

  “But you had enough confidence in your abilities to take the risk.” Kel’s grin widened, and he nodded. “How delightfully unexpected. That is something I’d have done. Beatrice, on the other side, would have been horrified that you didn’t study the spell for days on end. She’d have then counseled you to recreate the spell and attempt your theory before putting it into practice.”

  “That would’ve taken longer than if I had let it recharge. Who has that kind of time?”

  Kel laughed and walked out of his circle. “Spoken like a child of less than a hundred years. Considering she lived past her two thousandth birthday—”

  “And you passed your three thousandth.”

  “True. We had the time, but I never had the patience.” Kel’s quizzical look returned. “Why are you floating? The floor holds no dangers.”

  “It’s an old habit—an annoying one, it seems, to everyone who encounters it.”

  “Does this help you focus?”

  Farrell nodded. “I feel more sure of myself up here.”

  “Then you should continue the habit, and to Neblor with the opinion of others. At my advanced age, however, I prefer a soft, cushioned chair. If I were truly here, that is.”

  “Of course.” He nodded his head to the left.

  “Given the effort—and risk—it took to bring me here, what can I do for you?”

  “I’d like some answers.” Farrell watched for a reaction, but Kel gave him none. “Your book was rather sparse on what happened.”

  “What you mean is it doesn’t tell you how I came to possess the Hand of Neldin.”

  “That and who, or what, caused you such injuries.”

  Kel waved his hand, and a large, overstuffed chair appeared a pace away. He shrugged slightly. “I know I’m not really here and the chair is no more than an illusion, but my brain tells me I’m tired of standing.”

  “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

  “Thank you.” Kel settled back and let out a small sigh. “Much better. Now I can answer your questions. As you know, Honorus gave me the task of collecting weapons for the next Champion to use. That included some of the Gifts of the Gods. To aid my search, He gave me the Eye.”

  “Did the Eye always work when you asked it to show you something?”

  Kel’s lips pinched slightly.

  “Sorry, Grandfather. I’ll hold my questions.”

  “No matter.” He waved his hand in front of his face. “Did the Eye always show me what I wanted? Of course, if you ask the right question. Why do you ask?”

  “There were times when I tried to see things in Agloth, and I’m sure they were appropriate questions. For example, I asked it to show me inside the city. No matter how many ways I asked, the Eye didn’t respond.”

  “Ah, that. The Six may restrict what the Eye shows inside Their own domain. Whatever you sought in Agloth, clearly Seritia didn’t want you to see it. I was similarly unable to see Neldin’s Hand when I tried to locate it.”

  “How did you find it?”

  “Seritia told me.”

  Farrell opened his eyes wider. “I thought the Six couldn’t interfere that directly?” If Seritia could tell Kel, what would stop Neldin from telling Meglar where to find the Hand?

  “They cannot—at least not when it comes to Their Champions during the time of war. I know that sounds confusing, but during the time between conflicts, the Six can speak to Their Champions as They want.”

  “But . . .” Farrell realized he’d interrupted again, but he continued when Kel nodded. “I thought the war never ended? That Neldin just withdrew to regroup.”

  “In a sense that is correct, Grandson. The war between the gods is ongoing, but you would agree there has not been open warfare between the two sides in t
hree thousand years.”

  “That was true when you were created, but Neldin has renewed the war through His new servant.”

  “Did He now?” Kel shifted in his chair and leaned forward. “What has happened?”

  The way the image moved made Farrell forget it wasn’t really Kel. Once he reminded himself of that, his hesitation faded. “Meglar, Neldin’s servant, stole your Source and has conquered Yar-del, Endor, Respital, and Arvendia.”

  “Yes, that would be a restart of the hostilities.” Kel sat back, his expression unreadable. “Since the war has formally been renewed, the Six may not take direct action to aid Their own Champion or to harm Their opponent’s.

  “But all that is of no matter. Krendrew, the wizard who had Neldin’s Gift, was never Neldin’s Champion. When Seritia told me to go take possession of the Hand, I was disturbed by this request. Unlike the other Gifts, Neldin created the Hand specifically for a wizard. It helps a mage collect power from a great distance and magnifies the strength of the wizard’s spells. It is a powerful tool.

  “Seritia knew Neldin would return soon, and the Six wanted to deny Neldin’s servant the Hand. Despite my insistence that I was too old for the task, She remained steadfast in Her request. She directed me to get the Hand and bring it here.”

  “Didn’t She care about your well-being?”

  “I’m sure She did, but I was still the Champion of the Six. The task fell to me. When it was clear I couldn’t change Her mind, Flemin and I set out for Dragash.”

  “Dragash? I’m not familiar with that place.”

  “I’m not surprised, since I left it in ruins when I departed. For centuries, the powerful dark wizard Krendrew ruled Dragash, a small city-state on the East Coast of Lourdria. Through relentless strife and war, he conquered several of his neighbors and forged a sizeable kingdom. The monarchs on the eastern coast put aside centuries-long strife to form an alliance to stop Krendrew. Even the Order took notice, and Dumbarten offered its aid.

  “Given my goal, I decided against bringing an army with me. Instead Flemin and I snuck into Krendrew’s citadel. Having no way of knowing where Krendrew hid the Hand, we decided to challenge him and provoke a fight.” Kel smiled ruefully. “Krendrew was a formidable opponent, far more than I expected. Maybe I underestimated the strength the Hand gave the holder, or perhaps I was overconfident in my own abilities. Either way, the fight was far more difficult than I expected. With the aid of the Arm of Khron, however, I was able to defeat him.