“Tell her to be safe.”
Farrell tuned out her answer as well as the activity around him. Miceral and Penelope would need to handle the army. Vaguely he heard trumpets signaling Agloth’s counterattack and he sensed a fierce magical battle begin, but he didn’t turn to look.
Pale, gangly, with black hair, Vedric looked more like Farrell than Meglar. He stood motionless with a staff planted in the ground to his right. A powerful shield surrounded him, and Farrell noted a second inner layer of protection. Whatever else Meglar had done, he’d seen that Vedric received proper basic training.
The sneer on his face couldn’t entirely mask a hint of fear. Farrell made sure he showed no reaction to his sibling’s presence. “Hello, Vedric. If you’ve come to Agloth to petition Seritia, this wasn’t the best way to win Her favor.”
Vedric’s eyes opened wider for a second, but he quickly recovered. “Who are you?”
“I thought you’d have gone home after I destroyed your invisibility spell.” He saw a flicker of anger in his brother’s face. “Brezlaw gave you bad advice, but then overconfidence runs in the House of Vedri.”
“Be careful. He is powerful and dangerous.” Nerti’s warning reminded him she stood behind him and to his left.
“What do you know of me or my family?” Vedric dropped his arms and balled his hands into fists. He snatched his staff from the ground and advanced on Farrell. “Overconfident? I think not. The House of Vedri will soon rule the world. The Seven Kingdoms are almost finished. Once they fall, the rest of Nendor will quickly follow. You are but an ant to be crushed beneath our boots as we march to our destiny.”
Farrell shook his head. Meglar didn’t care if Vedric died. Even his children were expendable. He might have pitied him, but Vedric had showed himself to be just as uncaring as his father. “You have no idea what’s happening.”
He spoke so softly, Vedric couldn’t have heard him, and his face showed no signs he had. He stopped walking a few dozen paces from Farrell and waited. Lowering his staff at Farrell, Vedric sent a burst of brown energy at his adversary.
With a guttural sound coming from his mouth, Vedric launched three more rapid-fire assaults. Farrell didn’t move and allowed these to strike his shield. It deflected the onslaught while he just stared straight ahead. He wanted Meglar’s son to see his lack of effect, hoping to shake his confidence.
Vedric stood quietly, his eyes darting about, as if searching for a solution. Suddenly, several blue and green globes of fire pulsed in succession from the top of Farrell’s battle staff. Vedric’s shield absorbed these blows with minimal impact.
Farrell heard the battle rage behind him but did his best to ignore the fight. He knew Nerti would monitor the situation and advise him if his help was needed. Instead he kept his attention on his wizards’ duel. When Vedric attacked again, Farrell noticed something odd when the energy struck. He modified his shields and goaded Vedric into attacking again. When the second blast hit, it confirmed his suspicions.
“Why do you hold back?” Nerti asked. “You should go for the victory and be done with it.”
“Meglar trained him. Vedric might teach me a few things about my father that will be useful when we meet.” Vedric fired a new assault, and Farrell noted that his shields soaked in the power and transferred it to him. “That and I find it astounding that he hasn’t learned how to prevent his opponent from absorbing his energy. That’s basic wizardry.”
“Have you considered it might be a trap? That he wants you to consume his attacks?”
“Yes.” Farrell sent an attack through the ground that erupted around Vedric. That disrupted Meglar’s son mid-spell, and the result was a barely noticeable strike. “I tested it first before I modified my shield.”
Farrell continued to attack but never with enough power or skill to end the fight. He succeeded in rattling Vedric several times, with Meglar’s son growing more frustrated with each one. On his end, Vedric’s assaults were getting stronger, but they still lacked anything approaching the skill Farrell expected from a grand master wizard.
“Vedric has employed the skill of a sledgehammer attacking a moth,” Nerti said after an hour had passed. “I think we can conclude you’ll learn nothing of value to use against your father. End this now so we can conclude the battle.”
Nerti’s assessment cut to the heart of Farrell’s dilemma; he didn’t want to kill Vedric. He’d let the fight continue after he knew he’d learn nothing more from Meglar’s son. “You’re right. There was no point in letting it go this long.”
“You knew before this began there could only be one outcome.”
He didn’t answer. How could he deny the truth? Vedric breathed deeply and appeared to take advantage of Farrell’s indecision. Farrell stared at him and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Vedric, but I’ve played with you long enough.”
The insult stirred his enemy to action. “Don’t mock me! I’m the heir to the House of Vedri.”
“Heir to an evil legacy you are, but I’m still your better. Unlike your father, my teachers didn’t fear to teach me everything they knew.”
“I am second to no one but my father.” Despite his words, Vedric didn’t attack.
Rather than let him use the time to rest, Farrell pointed his staff and sent a blast of wizard’s fire several times stronger than any he’d employed to that point. The energy crackled and danced along the shield, and Vedric’s face showed the strain of trying to shore up his battered defenses. Before the green flames fully disappeared, Farrell extended his left hand and cast an obscure spell he had taken from one of Kel’s books.
A purplish bubble materialized halfway between the two wizards. The sphere moved quickly and landed on the crown of Vedric’s shield before he could react. Like paint oozing down a wall, the purple substance flowed toward the ground, covering Vedric’s magical barrier in a translucent shell.
Vedric looked at the substance from several angles before he lowered his staff and aimed it at Farrell. When the attack detonated on the inside, Vedric flinched. He squinted and reached forward to touch his shield.
“Why aren’t you attacking?” Nerti sounded irritated. “End this.”
“I will, but if I attack now, I’ll destroy the spell that blocks his magic from leaving.” Farrell removed a handful of small stones from his pocket as he watched Vedric try two different spells to break the hold. He growled when neither proved successful.
Next Vedric erected a second, slightly smaller shield inside the first, then dismissed the outer one. When the covering dropped onto the newer shield, Vedric screamed. Visibly shaken, he expanded his magical barrier until it almost reached Farrell’s position. Again, he created a second line of defense inside the larger one, but this time he curled the bottom of the outer shield upward. Once the viscous substance had been collected into a ball, Vedric hurled it at Farrell.
As the purple liquid came toward him, Farrell tossed his weapons at Vedric. He waved his other hand to disperse the spell Vedric sent back.
Vedric immediately attempted to counterattack, but Farrell’s new assault struck first. The stones affixed themselves to his shield and exploded in rapid succession. Not waiting for Vedric to recover, Farrell fired several powerful blasts of green fire at the now-weakened wall. The sixth ball shattered Vedric’s protection and sent him to his knees.
Defenseless and gasping for breath, Vedric tugged at Farrell’s emotions. This wasn’t Quonus, whom he hated and wanted to kill. This was the brother he’d never met, and but for circumstances, they might have been friends. Vedric raised his head and glared at him like a wounded animal caught in a trap. “I’m sorry, but you are too much Meglar’s son for me to allow you to live. This isn’t personal, merely war. You chose the wrong side.” Farrell lowered his staff for the final blow.
“Nordric!” Nerti’s scream ripped through his mind and caused him to drop his staff. The word was accompanied by searing waves of anguish that crippled him. “No!”
“Nerti!
Stop!” he shouted back. “Our minds are still linked.”
“Nordric!” She screamed her son’s name again and sent a new surge of pain into Farrell’s mind.
He clutched both sides of his head and tried to look up. “Nerti! Stop!”
She continued to wail, and he felt himself suffocating on a flood of grief that gushed out. Exerting every ounce of willpower he could, he focused at the viselike grip of pain Nerti had locked onto his mind. “Nerti, please stop! You’re killing me!”
Tears streamed down his cheeks and blood flowed from his nose as he strained to wall off her mental assault. On his hands and knees, his mind nearly shattered. He twisted his staff toward her and focused on the simplest killing spell he knew. Just before he fired it at her, his mind was free.
Through the echo of the unimaginable pain Nerti had inflicted on him, he saw her bolt toward Agloth faster than he’d ever seen her run. An instant later he felt another presence move closer.
Farrell could not focus his thoughts enough to raise a shield to ward off the attack. Even if he could, any shield created on a moment’s notice would not withstand whatever Vedric was about to throw at him. He managed to raise his head and saw a gleeful smile on Vedric’s face as a blast of wizard’s fire erupted from his staff.
Death had been a constant possibility for him since the war began, and Farrell had wondered after prior battles what it felt like to be blown apart by his magic. That curiosity was the last thought he had before the blow struck.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Miceral used his foot to push a dead Chamdon off his sword and surveyed the battlefield. A growing number of Ze’arderian wizards had joined the fight, helping wherever the need was most pressing. Agloth’s defenders had used every advantage centuries of preparation gave them. Despite the continued fighting, the outcome was no longer in doubt.
When the battle began, the air above them sizzled with power flying between the two sides’ of wizards. Miceral noted only a fraction of the earlier volume, and most of it came from Agloth.
With the death of every handler, the Chamdon became more disorganized. They still fought with the same single-minded devotion to their last command, but without their wizards to redirect them, they were easily isolated and eliminated. Whenever a clutch of Chamdon did change course, a hail of wizard’s fire targeted the handler responsible for the move.
Miceral, Klissmor, Nordric, and Peter had drifted north during the fight, bringing them close to the left flank of their forces. A sudden increase in magical activity drew his attention south, where a trio of Dumbarten wizards fired relentlessly from the wall. Their target looked familiar, but Miceral couldn’t name him.
A second intense exchange erupted almost overhead. Penelope battled a group of wizards led by a tall man in the black and red of Zargon. Movement in the distance got his attention, and he found a large, well-organized group of Chamdon rushing toward them from the southeast. They avoided engaging any other defenders and made straight for Miceral’s position. Finding no handlers, he caught his breath.
“We’re their target,” he told Klissmor. “No handlers and no way for them to retreat. They’re being sent to kill us, and they’re not expected to come back.”
“I concur.”
He heard Klissmor call for reinforcements, but the Chamdon were closer and moving fast. Outnumbered and largely isolated, Miceral searched for an escape route. The city wall blocked them to the west, and the enemy approached from the southeast, so that left retreating north as their only option. But that put them farther from reinforcements, and while Nordric and Klissmor could easily outrun the Chamdon, Miceral’s soldiers, especially the dwarves, could not.
With no good options, Miceral chose to stay put and formed his troops into a defensive position. Of the two legions he commanded at the start, he had almost one and a half left. The remnants of two Ze’arderian legions to the north added almost another full complement, and two-thirds of a Fracturn legion quickly joined them from the south.
Nearly twice that headed their way. Taking stock of troops, he found three wizards among the Ze’arderians warriors. Moving those soldiers with pikes and long spears to the front, he sent two of the wizards to support them. The remaining troops he divided into two parts. Positioning one half on the left flank and the other on the right, he motioned for the third wizard and turned to face Peter.
“Wizard.” Miceral waited until the Ze’arderian mage came closer. The man looked spent, but Miceral had no options. “Do you have the strength left to guard Prince Peter?”
The wizard nodded slowly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. He’s your only responsibility.” Miceral pointed to a company commander of his personal guard. “You and your dwarves stay with the prince no matter what happens. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The dwarf saluted. “We’ll guard him with our lives.”
He said to Peter, “Until otherwise directed, stay with these guards. Once reinforcements arrive, I’ll come back. But if Nordric tells you to run, you run. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Miceral.” Peter’s voice only partially hid his fear.
Miceral grabbed his shoulder. “We’ve been through worse. We’ll get through this.”
Peter nodded and adjusted his helmet. Glancing right, Miceral saw three legions in Colograd’s colors running toward them. Thrinton’s banner was in the lead, and they moved faster than he thought possible for the shorter warriors. Behind them, an officer in the amelt’s colors led several more legions of Ze’arderian warriors. They outpaced the dwarves, but they were too far away to reach Miceral before the Chamdon.
Grohl and Takala suddenly swooped down, avoided a random ball of wizard’s fire, and hauled a Chamdon each off the ground. They pivoted quickly and dropped the lifeless bodies in front of the rushing force. Though it caused a few Chamdon to stumble, it barely slowed the majority. Miceral watched the peregrines maneuver for another run, but the enemy was too close for him to follow the brothers.
Miceral drew his second sword just as their enemy struck. The pike wall withstood the initial charge, but the snarling Chamdon pressed against their dead and slowly pushed the defenders back.
Blocked in front, the swarming creatures flowed north and south. As the fighting moved down the lines, with troops coming hard from the south, Miceral joined the troops on the left flank. Bursts of blue fire from the city walls disrupted the charging Chamdon, but the two armies were too close for Agloth’s wizards to offer widespread help.
Unlike other encounters with Meglar’s warped creations, this group of Chamdon remained tightly packed and didn’t lose their focus. Again, Miceral searched for the handler but couldn’t find one. Whoever directed this group was smarter and more observant than most. By keeping the Chamdon close together, the handler made it impossible for the defenders to separate and isolate their enemy.
The tight formation also made it difficult for Klissmor to maneuver. Rather than risk his friend getting surrounded, Miceral dismounted and took the fight to the enemy. Human armies avoided Miceral once they noted his skill, but the Chamdon had no appreciation for his greater speed and strength.
Miceral’s strategy accomplished its main goal—slow the Chamdon long enough for reinforcements to arrive. The dwarves and Ze’arderians reached the southern flank of the Chamdon and were pressing hard to reach Miceral’s troops. His rising hopes proved fleeting when he noticed the Chamdon ignoring the enemy on their left. Miceral experienced a moment of panic as he realized he’d missed something. The command imprinted on the Chamdon hadn’t been a general attack. They had a specific target.
The peregrine brothers swooped over him from behind and each sank their talons into a Chamdon. Their momentum carried them deep into the enemy ranks. After they dropped their kills, they flapped their wings furiously to gain altitude.
“Grohl, Takala, we’re missing something.” Miceral cut the head of a creature with a backhand slice from the sword in his left hand while stabb
ing another with his right. “They were given a specific objective. Can you see what’s in their path that they might be after?”
“Miceral!” Klissmor’s urgent cry startled Miceral. “Get on. Nordric and Peter are the targets!”
He ignored how Klissmor knew and kicked a Chamdon hard enough in the chest to knock down two more brutes behind him. He whipped his head around, searching for Peter and Nordric. Klissmor galloped in his direction, so Miceral ran toward the city wall. When the unicorn pulled alongside, Miceral leapt onto his back. Klissmor barely let him get settled before accelerating to full speed.
Miceral finally saw Peter hacking furiously with his sword even as the company of dwarves battled valiantly around him. A company of twenty or more Chamdon had slid around Miceral’s main force and had engaged Peter and his guard. The Ze’arderian wizard let loose a spell that killed many of them, but the effort drained him. One of the Chamdon split the man from crown to chest and flung the body away as if it were that of a small animal.
Klissmor was still a hundred yards away, and the surviving Chamdon stood between him and his son. The dwarves fought desperately but were overmatched by the taller, stronger creatures.
“Grohl! Takala! Nordric and Peter need your help!” Miceral shouted.
“We see them,” Takala replied. “We are heading there now.”
As Klissmor had suggested, the Chamdon focused on Peter and Nordric. They swatted aside two dwarves, who quickly got up and attacked from behind. There weren’t enough dwarves left to engage all the Chamdon, and two made it past the defenders. Fighting for their lives, the guards couldn’t disengage and help Peter.
“Get to them!” His attempt to will the peregrines to move faster only made him feel more helpless. “Nowww!”
When Nordric surged forward and gored the Chamdon closest to him in the face, Peter got in the path of the second. He planted both feet and struck his opponent as Miceral had taught him. The Chamdon parried the blow and used his thick hand to send Peter flying.
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 101