Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Is that part of the process?” Randgar asked.

  “Not usually, but I need to make sure I don’t make the exit smaller than the entrance. If I did that, someone who enters at Colograd could end up lost in the void forever.”

  “Ah.” Randgar’s nod of understanding reminded Farrell of where the amelt had been a few days ago.

  Satisfied he had the right distance, Farrell marked the right lower corner, locked in the point, and reached up as high as he could with his staff. Securing the top corner, he moved left, drawing a faint, translucent line as he walked. He fastened the last two points and stepped back.

  “Is that all?” Randgar asked. “I expected a bit more . . .”

  “Something more impressive?” Farrell smirked at him.

  Randgar flashed him a grin and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Actually, it’s not complete. This is the exit. I need to go back to Colograd to open the entry.” Farrell hopped on Nerti’s back. “And with that, I’ll use the open Door in my quarters to finish the job.” “May Seritia bless your journey,” Jolella said.

  When Farrell arrived back in Colograd, a dozen guards waited for him. One stepped forward a pace and saluted by striking his fist to his breast and bowing his head while the other guards came to attention. “Your Majesty.

  Captain Jagwin directed us to return with you to Agloth.”

  “Thank you.” Farrell dismounted as he spoke. “How are you called?”

  “Corporal Greigel.”

  Farrell extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Corporal Greigel.”

  The soldier looked at Farrell’s outstretched hand. He reached out and the two clasped forearms. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “If I forget to say it later, thank you for coming with me.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty. It would be wrong for the king of Trellham to travel without a guard. Captain Jagwin wanted to send a company of guards with you, but King Miceral ordered him to limit it to twelve.”

  “Twelve is more than I need, but I’m sure he selected the twelve best guards in the company.”

  “Indeed.” Greigel and the guards saluted.

  “Stop that,” Farrell snapped. “If you want to serve as my personal guards, forego the formalities. Especially when no one else is around.”

  Greigel looked back, but the other guards didn’t react. The corporal faced Farrell and started to salute but stopped in time. “It shall be as you say. You are the king.”

  “High king.” Farrell clapped him on the shoulder. “And don’t forget. I’d hate to have to pull rank and order you.”

  The dwarves laughed and relaxed.

  Farrell waved his hand absently, and the small Door disappeared. He scanned the wall, hoping to find a long enough section that didn’t curve too much. The spot also needed to be out of the way enough that soldiers could march through without interruption once they began. He settled on a span to the right of the front gate.

  Under the watchful eyes of his guards, he walked off the space for the Door. As he had in Agloth, Farrell checked several times, marking his start and end point each time. Once he had the distance correct, he moved each side two paces toward the middle.

  He locked in the four points and paced the distance one last time. Satisfied with his work, he placed his hand inside the faint outline of the Door and pushed out with his will. The space shimmered once, before the image of Agloth’s training grounds came into view.

  Farrell started to speak to his guards, but the question died on his lips when he saw hundreds of soldiers standing in formation.

  “Next time, Greigel, you could warn me I had an audience.”

  The guard gave him a crooked grin. “That would spoil everyone’s fun.”

  “Is that right?” Farrell raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Did you at least sell tickets and make a few coins?”

  “Your Majesty!” The dwarf appeared shocked. “That would debase my position.”

  Farrell laughed along with most of the other dwarves. Before he could speak, he saw movement to the rear of the assembled soldiers. Miceral, Thrinton, and Drendar, along with a small company of guards, walked toward him.

  “We didn’t expect you back this soon.” Thrinton held out his arm when he arrived. “I assume from your work, your visit to Agloth was successful?”

  “It served its purpose, yes.” Farrell accepted Thrinton’s arm, and when he let go, he didn’t know if he should do the same with Drendar. Fracturn’s king ended the debate by offering his arm first.

  Drendar looked behind Farrell as they shook. “I wondered how you were going to do it.”

  Farrell turned and followed the king’s gaze. “Do what, Drendar?”

  “Get thirty-thousand dwarves to Agloth through that small Door you created earlier.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “This ought to speed things up a bit.”

  “Just a bit,” Miceral said. “How soon can we begin?”

  “Jolella and Randgar have quarters arranged and waiting. Let me check first to be certain they’re ready for you. The barracks have been empty since before the Great War. I’m not sure of their condition.”

  “A solid roof over our heads, sturdy walls, and a place to store our weapons is all we require for a military campaign.” Drendar patted his war hammer. “Let them know dwarves are a hardy race. A little dirt and dust won’t bother us.”

  Farrell laughed. “I’ll let the amelt know he need not sweep the floors, but I suspect he wants to ensure the roof is solid and the walls strong enough to support your weapons.”

  With a bow to the kings, Farrell faced Miceral. “How long are you staying here?”

  “Drendar, Thrinton, and I talked about this. It is their opinion that as high king, I should be the last to arrive.”

  “Even though I’m going first?” Farrell raised an eyebrow.

  “You have to go first.” He kissed Farrell. “Who else is able to do something this amazing?”

  “Someday you’re going to realize I’m not really that wonderful.” They pulled back but continued to stare at each other.

  “Given how long we’ll be together, I can’t say that won’t happen, but it will take a few centuries.” Miceral leaned in and kissed him again. “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “I will make sure of it,” Nerti said.

  His cheeks flushed a bit at the attention. “Corporal? Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Farrell stood next to Nerti and watched the twelve dwarves form ranks around him. “You twelve shall have the honor of being the first soldiers to answer Seritia’s call to defend Agloth. Being forced to protect the high king has to have some perks.”

  “Don’t get too full of yourself, Your Majesty,” Miceral said. “You might need to enlarge the Door if your head gets much bigger.”

  Farrell laughed with everyone else—everyone except his twelve guards, who remained stoic.

  “It’s important to our guards that we do this properly.” He watched his escort nod in agreement. “This one time I can be forgiven.”

  “Exactly.” Drendar banged his breastplate. “Show the world how a dwarf king enters a battlefield, Your Majesty.”

  Sorry that he’d started the foolery, Farrell tapped the end of his staff on the ground. “Shall we, Corporal?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Greigel shouted an order, and one of the dwarves sang a loud, clear steady note.

  Soon all twelve hummed in unison. Greigel barked again, and the company began to sing. Farrell caught bits of words he understood, but the accent was different from what he’d learned during his training.

  “What song are we singing?” Farrell asked his officer.

  “You are not singing anything, Your Majesty.” Greigel gave Farrell a withering look. “We are singing the traditional war song that talks about following our mighty king into battle.”

  “I’ll check on Vedric once we get back to Agloth and let you know what I find,” Farrell sent to Mice
ral as he started marching toward the Door.

  “Remember, be careful.” The concern in Miceral’s voice twisted Farrell’s stomach.

  “I will, Ral. I love you too much to do anything stupid.”

  “I know that.” Miceral’s tone lightened. “We just have a different opinion of what constitutes stupid.”

  The arrival of Farrell surrounded by twelve dwarves set off a roar of approval from the Ze’arderians working near the Door. An older warrior with the trappings of high rank marched over with a handful of soldiers and stopped before the newcomers. Greigel let the dwarves sing a few more notes before he ordered them to stop.

  “Your Majesty, welcome back.” The officer bowed deeply. “Commander Ignation at your disposal. Amelt Randgar told us to prepare to receive your soldiers. Can I assume this is just the vanguard?”

  “No, Commander, these stout warriors are part of the Royal Trellham Guards.” Farrell noted how close to him his escort stood. “Kings Thrinton and Drendar are prepared to start sending warriors through if you are ready to accept them.”

  “The barracks could do with a good dusting, but our people have worked hard to make them presentable. With that understanding, you may tell your troops they are welcome to enter Holy Seritia’s city.”

  “Miceral?”

  “Yes?”

  “They’re ready on this end. How soon do you think they will start to arrive?”

  “Thrinton and Drendar are having their generals form the available troops into companies right now.”

  Farrell waited for the Ze’arderian officer to finish speaking to a soldier. When the subordinate saluted and ran off, Farrell cleared his throat. “Commander. The dwarves are forming into units as we speak. Once they begin, there will be a steady stream until early evening. The rest will arrive tomorrow.”

  “Very good. I summoned more soldiers to assist in assigning barracks. They should be arriving in a moment, but I believe I have enough for them to begin.”

  Ignation barked an order, and his men formed two lines on either side of the grounds. From the blackness of the Door, the sound of dwarf voices flowed into Agloth. Farrell manipulated the Door magic until the image on the Colograd side came into focus.

  “We need to move to one side to avoid a pileup.” Farrell and Nerti moved south of the Door, and the others followed. The song grew louder, and the first line of dwarves crossed the plane separating the two cities.

  “If you and your dwarves want to sing with them, you have my approval,” Farrell told Greigel.

  One by one his guards added their voices to those just arriving. Another cheer erupted from the growing number of Ze’arderians lining the training grounds. Without missing a step or a beat, the dwarf company continued its march into Seritia’s city.

  When they were nearly parallel to Farrell, their commander yelled an order. The entire company turned their heads and banged their fists against their chests to salute.

  “You need to acknowledge them,” Nerti said. “Place your right fist over your heart and stay that way until they pass.”

  Farrell did as instructed. “I can’t do this for every company. I’ll be here all day.”

  “Then you need to leave the area.”

  As the dwarves moved by, they faced forward until the last soldier cleared Farrell’s position. A Ze’arderian warrior ran up and escorted the unit to an available barrack.

  “Commander Ignation.” Farrell had to yell to be heard over the growing chorus of dwarf voices. “I can see the dwarves will be well-housed, so I need to go handle other matters that require my attention.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Gods above, I forgot how hot it was here,” Farrell said as he and Peter left their quarters. It had taken a call to Grenda to learn Penelope was on the walls showing a group of Dumbarten wizards the city defenses. Greigel had argued against them going to the ramparts alone, going so far as to stand in Farrell’s way. It had taken a threat to send all of them back to Colograd if they didn’t relent for the corporal to step aside.

  “You’re spoiled. You live inside a mountain where you magically keep the temperature the same.” Peter wiped his forehead. “But it is a bit warm, even for me.”

  “Ha!” Farrell fetched two small squares of cotton fabric from their rooms and handed one to his friend. “Says the man who lives in a palace cooled by ocean breezes.”

  Peter dabbed his face with the cloth. “Don’t be jealous that my ancestors found the perfect place to build a city.”

  “If you’d had the chance to see Yar-del, you wouldn’t say that.” A pang of loss filled Farrell’s heart. “In all the world, I don’t think there is a more perfect city.”

  “Father mentioned a few times that it’s magnificent.” He moved closer and put his hand on Farrell’s shoulder. “You’ll get it back, and you’ll make a great king. One even Kel would be proud of.”

  “No.” Farrell didn’t take his focus off the street. “Someone else will have to rule. If I survive the war, I plan to live quietly somewhere far from kings and queens.”

  They continued in silence until they spotted the princess. Farrell flew them to the top of the wall. A dozen master wizards listened as Penelope and two Ze’arderian wizards spoke. Some of them noted Farrell and Peter’s arrival with interest.

  “They’re staring at you and wondering why the nonwizard is here.” Farrell instantly regretted his words, but before he could take them back, Peter spoke.

  “Thanks for making me feel more self-conscious and useless.”

  “Sorry.” Sometimes Farrell wondered where his brain went to when it abandoned him at times like this. “Give me a moment. I’ll distract them.”

  He’d barely finished speaking when the wizards reacted to their presence again. One gasped, and Penelope turned to see who was behind her. She smiled briefly and resumed her talk.

  “What did you do?” Peter asked.

  “I revealed my full aura to their wizard sight. It’s rather bright, or so I’m told.” He used their approach to gauge more closely the strength of the newcomers.

  “Brighter than theirs?”

  “Uh-huh.” Farrell recognized the chief Ze’arderian mage. After studying the man for a few moments, he realized his grunt didn’t really answer Peter’s question. “Sorry, I was trying to assess the new wizards’ strengths. What did you ask?”

  “Is yours brighter than theirs?”

  “I can’t see my own, but I’m told it’s on par with Master Heminaltose’s. His was brighter than Penelope’s, and hers easily outshines everyone else in her group.”

  Penelope turned around when they were a few feet away. “Hello, Peter. How did you tear him away from his comfortable quarters?”

  “Nerti made him leave.” Peter grinned. “Something about he needed to get acclimated before the fight began.”

  “Ah.” She looked down and then at Farrell. “Where are the guards? I didn’t think they’d let you from their sight.”

  “I threatened to send them back to Colograd if they didn’t let me go alone.” Farrell frowned. “I don’t need a guard. They’re a hindrance, not a help.”

  Penelope let out a sigh. “I know the feeling. It took me years to convince my father I didn’t need a guard, then my brother, and then again when Markus became king.”

  “Chosen?” The Ze’arderian wizard stepped around Penelope and bowed. Tall and lithe, the man wore the tradition garb of his people. Instead of a spear or sword, he carried a thin blackwood staff. A carved lion’s head with emerald eyes crowned it, and finger-wide strips of gold circled the wood at regular intervals. His bald head had a thin sheen of sweat from the midafternoon heat.

  “I am Lefliar, chief wizard to his majesty. It is an honor to meet you.”

  “Thank you, Master Lefliar.” He bowed politely and tried not to come off as rude when he turned his attention back to Penelope. “I used the Eye to find Vedric and his army. They’re moving south al
ong the North-South Trade Road.”

  “How could they have gotten that far this fast?” She glanced at Lefliar, and he shook his head. “I didn’t feel them open a Door.”

  “I’m sure they took great care to conceal it.” Farrell gazed north as if he could see them. “It took some work, but the Eye showed me where they opened their Door. They used the ruins of a small city in what used to be ancient Zeron.”

  “That is actually more disturbing to me than Vedric and his army.” Penelope kept her focus on the thin line east of the city. “Dumbarten’s intelligence as well as the Council’s should have heard about Meglar getting two footholds in Lourdria.”

  “I’d hardly call it a foothold,” Farrell said. “In the ruins of Neldin’s temple is a permanent Door—a big one. Did Meglar create it, or has it been there for untold centuries waiting to be used? I’d bet the latter. Neldin has a particular hatred for His youngest Sister. Vedric didn’t even camp there. He and some of his generals set off for the trade route as soon as they arrived.”

  “How big is their army?” Lefliar asked.

  “I don’t know for sure. It was still growing when I looked. But it’s big.” While he wouldn’t minimize the danger, he didn’t want them to panic either. “It won’t matter how large his force is. Once we kill him, the army will disintegrate.”

  “About that.” Penelope peered over the wall a last time. “After reviewing the city’s defenses and considering the reinforcements we now have, a well-planned, coordinated attack from all the wizards would be more prudent.”

  Farrell quickly turned away. “He’s mine, Penelope. You know why it has to be that way.”

  “Nothing has to be any one way,” she said, not hiding her irritation. “You’re neither infallible nor invincible. With our increased numbers, the better plan is to let them wash against the city walls and let us pick them off.”

  “Hiding behind the walls gives Vedric time to bring more troops to the fight. My way is better.”

  “You don’t get to make decisions and expect me to blindly go along. When are you going to remember that I’m—?”

  “A grand master wizard, too?” He faced her again and didn’t hide his anger. “I’m aware of that. You’ve advised me of that many times. This is not about you, and it never has been. I value your counsel and your skill, but if you don’t like my decision, you’re free to go back to Dumbarten.”