Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “As I reached for the Hand, Flemin warned me not to touch it directly. He told me to insert the stem of the Heart into the fist before I took possession. It was not clear to me why I needed to do it, but I trusted him with my life and did as he advised.”

  “How did he know to do this?” Farrell had his doubts Neldin didn’t know he had the Hand.

  “I shared your skepticism, but once I reached Agloth, Seritia confirmed that Her Gift blocked even Neldin from finding the Hand. How did Flemin know this? I can only surmise Seritia or Lenore told him.”

  Although he couldn’t understand how Seritia managed it, Farrell believed She wouldn’t put him at risk. “What happened after the fight? I was told you arrived severely injured.”

  “In short, what happened is time is catching up to me. The spells that kept me alive were interrupted and in some cases destroyed. None of the injuries would have been life-threatening if I had been your age, but this body is slow to heal. Without Flemin’s help, I’d not have survived.”

  For an instant Farrell questioned his belief that Kel still lived but pushed those doubts aside. “And this room? Do you know how it was created?”

  “I do not. It was here when I arrived. Seritia told me it would act like a normal structure, and I could do whatever I felt necessary to conceal and safeguard the Gifts. The rest you already know.”

  “Not all of it.” Farrell smirked. “Let’s start over. So, when did you meet Flemin?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What useful information did you pry from him?” Miceral asked after Farrell returned home.

  “Other than what happened to him at Dragash, not too much.” Farrell put some cold meat and cheese on his plate. He’d always preferred fowl to pork, but he was too hungry to ask for something else. “Kel had ideas where the three other Gifts are, but he never searched for them.”

  “Did he tell you where he thought they were?” Miceral rubbed Farrell’s shoulders. “And I thought he was supposed to collect them, so why didn’t he track them down?”

  “That feels amazing. I never get tired of that.” Farrell put the plate down and leaned back. “He believed the Blood of Arritisa is somewhere in the ocean. After the Goddess told him to come up with the spell to breathe underwater, he figured it was to allow him to collect Arritisa’s Gift. He never had the time to test his theory.”

  “That makes sense.” He pressed hard on a knot in Farrell’s shoulder. “You’re still so tense.”

  “You’re helping to fix that.” Farrell took a moment to enjoy the massage. “The Mind of Falcron is somewhere in the dwarf realm of Colograd. Kel said he used the Eye to find it, but again, he’d never made an effort to retrieve it. The Ear . . . well, he thought it was on Primilian. And it is.”

  “What?” Miceral stopped his massage. “How do you know that?”

  “Kel thought the unicorns had it, so I asked Nerti. She confirmed it is on Primilian.” He picked up his food and pushed aside some cheese to get a slice of meat. “It makes total sense. Who better to guard it than the unicorns, peregrines, and Muchari?”

  “Will she give it to you?”

  His mouth full of food, Farrell nodded. “She said when the time was right, she’d give it to me.”

  “That’s clear as a muddy river.” Miceral walked to where the food had been set out, filled two cups with water, and returned to the small table. “All these centuries she knew where to find the Ear, and she never mentioned it.”

  Farrell accepted the drink. “Thank you. I suspect Lenore gave her explicit instructions about when and to whom she should give the Ear to. Even Nerti isn’t above Lenore’s ability to order around.”

  They sat quietly while Farrell ate. When he’d finished, Miceral brought over the water pitcher. “What’s next? Are you going to use the Eye to find Kel?”

  “Not right now. Kel told me it would be best if I wait. Something about ‘to all things an order, and an order to all things.’”

  “Kel finally admitted he was still alive?”

  Farrell shook his head. “He did not. What he told me was even if he’d lived this long, I should wait.”

  “You’re agreeing to that?”

  “Yes. At least for now. He made a persuasive case for waiting.” He put the cup down, sat in front of Miceral, and leaned back. As he hoped, Miceral pulled him closer. “Kel told me he doesn’t know how to free the dwarves, which was the main reason I wanted to find him. Collecting the Gifts, however, is still important. As Kel pointed out, Seritia insisted he risk his life to recover the Hand of Neldin. Why do that if they aren’t necessary?”

  “Of course they’re important, but Kel could help you get the others, couldn’t he?”

  “He’d be very helpful, but I think I’m expected to get the others on my own.” Farrell wrapped his hands over Miceral’s. “Kel was his usual evasive self, so I’m just speculating, but he rather forcefully told me I’d be better served if I waited. Clearly there is some good reason why, even if he won’t tell me.”

  Content to just let Miceral hold him, Farrell didn’t say anything for a time. He knew the next leg of their journey would likely cause some dissention among his companions, so he tried to ignore it. After a few minutes, Miceral shifted behind him, and Farrell used that as his cue to get up.

  “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “In the heat? You?” Despite his mock surprise, Miceral released Farrell. “What did Kel do to you?”

  “Funny.” Farrell held out his hand to help Miceral up. “We’ve not had a lot of chances to be alone. Once the others get back, we’ll be more alone in a crowded city than here.”

  Early evening in Agloth wasn’t different from the rest of the midsummer day. The loose-fitting clothes Randgar had sent them helped, but it was still hot. Farrell ignored his discomfort and enjoyed the walk. Even that proved difficult with the way the Ze’arderians stared at them. Even if they weren’t hostile, Farrell felt like a bull on display at auction.

  Whether by chance or design, Miceral led them to a set of steps taking them to the top of the city walls. Farrell smiled when he looked over, and Miceral winked. Planned.

  Leaning on his elbows, looking over the battlements across the desert, Farrell enjoyed the view. The land looked as endless as the sea from atop the walls of Yar-del City. The heat gave the sand a shimmering effect that mimicked the waves of the Kessan Ocean on a calm day. Fond memories of his brief visits to the city were quickly swept away by the reminder of what he’d lost when it fell.

  “You’ve been quiet since you returned from visiting Kel.” Miceral’s words reminded Farrell he wasn’t alone. “Is something wrong?”

  He fought his first instinct to deny his jumble of emotions. Miceral deserved better than that. “Do you ever feel cheated that you waited seventy-five years and ended up with me?”

  “Farrell.” Miceral sounded exasperated. “Are we really going to do this again? Now?”

  “Sorry, that came out wrong.” He stared into the desert to collect his thoughts. “I’m not suggesting I’m not good enough for you, though I’ll always wonder if that’s true. I meant, do you ever feel stuck with my situation? Don’t you wish you were joined with someone who didn’t drag you around the world in search of the Six only knows what?”

  “No, because that other person wouldn’t be you.” Miceral reached over and squeezed Farrell’s hand. He kept their hands together and moved closer. “Besides, I’m afraid you’ll get bored with me if the most excitement we have is what’s for dinner or where to ride next.”

  Farrell laughed. “Not that I would want that forever, but a bit less excitement wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

  “I won’t lie. I do wish we weren’t caught up in some of the things we’re involved in, but there is no perfect life. At least we have some control over our fate, even if we’re responsible for the welfare of everyone else.”

  Farrell didn’t answer, and the silence stretched for a few long moments before he spoke. “We should head back
but take the long way. The others won’t be happy when I tell them what we’re doing next.”

  “How long do you expect to be gone?” Peter didn’t hide his disappointment at being left behind.

  “Assuming the dwarves don’t give us any problems, we should be back in less than a week.” Farrell tried to sound upbeat. “If they don’t agree to give it to me, we’ll be a few extra days.”

  “You might want to let Miceral do the talking if you don’t want problems.” Peter shrugged when Farrell threw him a sour look. “What? Dwarves are reported to be very stubborn. You’re not the most patient person when you’re in a hurry.”

  Miceral laughed and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “He makes a good point. You can be a bit short-tempered when you feel people are being foolish. I mean, look what you did to my father.”

  “First, he was insulting me, and second—”

  Miceral kissed him before he could finish. “What about the time you threatened to toss Corvis into a clutch of Chamdon?”

  “Yes, I did that, but…”

  “And I recall someone threatened to—”

  “Fine!” Farrell held up his hand and shook his head. “I get it. You can sweet-talk the dwarves if it becomes necessary.”

  Before Miceral could reply, the door swung open, and Penelope stormed into their quarters.

  “Oh, Neblor,” Miceral muttered softly.

  “You plan to leave me behind, and you don’t even have the courage to tell me yourself?”

  “Actually, Nerti volunteered for the job.” It took an effort to ignore her implication that he was a coward. “She’d hoped to avoid a confrontation.”

  “If she wanted to avoid an argument, she should have suggested you not sneak off like a—”

  “Stop!” Farrell held up his hand and realized he’d lost his temper again. “Take a deep breath so we can talk like adults.”

  “Very well.” She took an exaggerated breath and let it out loudly. “I’ll hear you before I tell you what I really think.”

  “You mean in addition to what you just said?” Miceral said, drawing a nasty look from Penelope.

  “Only Miceral and I are going because it’s too hard to shield and hide everyone. I—”

  “As if you need to protect or hide me.” She pointed at him and then back at herself as she spoke. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. I’ve only been doing it since before you were born.”

  Farrell counted silently to himself. Horgon had suggested he try this whenever he dealt with angry, self-important nobles. When Penelope had gotten the message, he spoke.

  “It’s not a question of your abilities. Without your help, we wouldn’t have reached Agloth safely. But one of us needs to remain in Agloth. Vedric is supposedly on his way with an army. I need you to stay here.”

  “You need me.” Though she didn’t hide her disdain, the words held less venom than when she first spoke.

  “Actually, Agloth needs you. Have you met the Ze’arders’ chief wizard?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “What status would you say he is? I’d put him as a midlevel master wizard.” He raised an eyebrow, watching for some sign she understood. “The only wizard I saw with an aura stronger than his was an ancient woman who I’m surprised survived whatever Seritia did to the people.”

  Penelope averted her eyes as she considered his argument. Finally, she let out a loud sigh. “As much as I want to disagree with you, I know I’ll only look foolish. Our arrival set in motion events we can’t ignore. One of us needs to stay and help defend Agloth if Vedric attacks.”

  “That was my thinking as well.”

  “Next time you’d be better served to explain things yourself.”

  “I’ll remember that.” He worked to keep a smile off his face.

  “See that you do.” Penelope nodded curtly and headed toward the door. Before she opened it, she turned back around. “Be sure to come see me before you leave.”

  “Of course, Penelope.” He waited for the door to close before he faced Miceral and Peter. “Still think I can’t handle a few dwarves?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  After Penelope’s reaction, Farrell planned to inform his brothers himself, but Nerti told him it wouldn’t be necessary. The peregrines had been recruited to assist the Ze’arderian generals with aerial surveillance. They put up a token resistance at being asked to remain behind and readily acquiesced when Nerti “insisted.”

  With one fewer group to worry about, Farrell sought an audience with Amelt Randgar. Randgar’s initial insistence on several companies to guard them evaporated when Miceral asked if he’d cleared the decision with Seritia. Rather than send troops out of the city when an attack was imminent, Randgar helped supply them for the journey and wished them well.

  The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon when they exited Agloth’s only gate. Beginning at Seritia’s city, the Eastern Trade Road struck due east on its two-thousand-mile trek to the Delmun Ocean. Across the burning sands, there was no shade or cover until it reached the ancient kingdoms that populated the more temperate and fertile lands beyond the wide savannah. Under different circumstances, Farrell would have liked to examine the spells used to keep the road—and the one they’d taken from the north—free of sand. Instead, he needed to concentrate on protecting himself and Miceral.

  Nerti and Klissmor thundered out of the city and raced for the crossroad that would take them south. Farrell closed his eyes and wove the protective spells around them. “You and Klissmor need to stay within ten feet of each other to remain inside the protective area.”

  “Understood.”

  They slowed briefly at the intersection of the two trade routes so the unicorns could stay close enough together. Once they’d completed the turn, the pair accelerated to full speed. The monotony of the sand gave Farrell little of interest to watch. He struggled to keep the focus needed to maintain the two spells that protected the small group. Twice Nerti alerted him as he nearly let sleep overtake him.

  The unicorns ran side by side all day, stopping only for brief rests. Klissmor kept close to his mate, never straying outside the boundaries of Farrell’s protection, which made keeping them safe and hidden easier. Still, the strain wore at Farrell until he decided to halt for the day, even though Nerti and Klissmor didn’t show signs of needing a break.

  They’d exited the desert a couple of hours earlier and were able to find a semisheltered campsite near a small hill. While Farrell set the protections around the camp, Miceral hovered, stepping in to do any task that didn’t require magic. Farrell almost snapped at his partner, but Nerti stopped him.

  “He has nothing to do at this time. Your magic protects us as Klissmor and I carry you toward your goal. Allow him to feel useful. Perhaps if you rest a bit more, I won’t need to wake you so often tomorrow.”

  Too tired to argue, Farrell sat to the side as Miceral set up camp. After he prepared the unicorns’ meal, he put out their food. The cold dinner of smoked chicken, cheese, and bread held little appeal. Miceral didn’t ask him to warm it up, so they ate it cold. No one said much while they ate, and once they’d finished, Farrell crawled into the tent and went to sleep.

  The second day’s ride felt much like the first to Farrell. If asked, the only way he could differentiate between the days was they spent more of day one in the desert. But they made good time, and based on the first day’s ride, Farrell was able to decrease the size of their protective area. While only a couple of feet smaller, the reduced effort allowed them to ride until the last bit of light faded. Still, by the time they stopped, he barely had the energy to eat before going to sleep.

  Another cold meal welcomed Farrell to the third day of their ride. Nerti woke him before the sun fully rose.

  “We must reach the edge of the dwarves’ territory before nightfall.” Nerti’s voice interrupted his breakfast. “The dwarves will not open their gate to anyone after the sun sets.”

 
; “Is that a realistic goal, or should we plan to arrive tomorrow?” Farrell didn’t know which plan he favored. Two days would be less of a strain, but with Vedric planning to attack Agloth, every day was precious.

  “We should arrive before the sun starts to dip below the horizon. Sooner if we keep our breaks short.”

  “Keep us on pace. I’ll manage.” The rest periods provided marginal relief, as they required him to take down one set of spells, erect another, then put back the first ones again before they set off. “Two slightly longer breaks would be better than several shorter ones.”

  “We will remember that. Klissmor and I are ready when you are.”

  No sooner were the protective spells in place than the white unicorns sped south again at a ground-eating pace.

  Midmorning brought them to the end of the flat prairies. The massive snow-covered peaks of the southern mountains in the distance offered a contrast against the cloudless blue horizon.

  Fatigue set in sooner than the day before, but Farrell pressed on. This close to their destination, he didn’t want to delay another day. Slowly the mountains drew closer as the hours wore on. Nerti and Klissmor ran as if the hordes of Neblor pursued them, eating up the distance at a pace Farrell didn’t believe possible.

  They ended their second break with the sun still closer to its zenith than the horizon, but the extra-long summer days meant they’d arrive well ahead of nightfall. Despite the ample time, Klissmor and Nerti never slowed their pace.

  The sun hung low, barely a hand’s span above the ground, when the unicorns slowed their pace.

  “We have reached the northern border of Colograd,” Klissmor announced. “From here we must proceed with caution lest we be perceived as invaders.”