Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  Backing up, Nordric freed his horn and turned to help Peter. The world around Miceral went blank. He couldn’t remember hearing or seeing anything other than the Chamdon immediately turning away from Peter and moving directly at Nordric. His stomach threatened to revolt as Miceral realized Nordric had been the target all along.

  Nordric wheeled about, no doubt expecting to rush to his friend’s aid. Instead he appeared surprised to see the beast moving toward him. Caught unaware, he was out of position and open to attack. The creature dropped his sword and grabbed at Nordric’s horn.

  “No!” Klissmor screamed so loud Miceral winced. He used his horn to shove a Chamdon out of his way. Miceral sliced off the head as Klissmor leapt over the startled dwarves. Every step felt as if it took forever to finish. Peter lurched to his feet and charged the Chamdon from behind, and Grohl flew over Miceral, claws extended for the kill.

  None of it mattered. To his horror, Miceral watched the Chamdon heave just as Grohl’s talons closed around the creature’s head. A fountain of crimson sprayed all around as the peregrine soared skyward with the dead enemy dangling lifeless below him. They’d made it ten feet in the air when Nordric’s horn fell from the dead Chamdon’s hand.

  Nordric wobbled for a moment, then crashed to the ground. Peter screamed, dropped his sword, and ran to his friend’s side.

  Nerti’s anguished scream rang inside Miceral’s head. Takala landed next to his stricken friend just seconds ahead of Peter, Miceral, Klissmor, and Grohl. Miceral barely noticed the remaining dwarves take up a position behind him. His brain was too numb to process.

  He heard Nerti scream again, and his heart nearly burst for the mother’s sorrow. Klissmor knelt next to his son with tears in his eyes. In the decades Miceral had been with the unicorn, he’d never seen Klissmor cry. He touched his horn to his son’s head, but Miceral knew Klissmor couldn’t heal this injury.

  He turned when he saw a blinding flash from the direction where Farrell had met Vedric. Nerti ran toward them faster than he thought possible. Several more bursts of energy came from the same area. He’d seen Farrell use magic enough to know none of those blasts came from his partner.

  The world collapsed around him, and he fought to breathe. With Nordric down and Nerti racing toward them, he struggled to check on Farrell. A burning in his chest forced him to suck in air.

  “Farrell?”

  Silence confirmed his worst fear. Closing his eyes, he sank to his knees and shook his head. When he opened them, he saw another burst of wizard’s fire, this one coming from the walls. He followed the trail and saw Penelope attacking a wizard, who flew away. The man never stopped and soon was out of sight.

  Thrinton appeared at Miceral’s side. He looked back toward where Farrell had been fighting Vedric. The area had gone quiet.

  “I’m sure he’s survived, Miceral.”

  Miceral pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the tears. He managed to nod but didn’t look over. Through his tears he noted scattered places of fighting. Only a few Chamdon remained, and Randgar and Drendar led their soldiers in hunting them down.

  The battle was over. Agloth had survived. Now he needed to find out the cost.

  “Impossible!” Vedric yelled. “Die!”

  Vedric fired again. The ground under Farrell exploded, but he didn’t feel anything. He watched the reddish-black energy pass through his body one more time before he summoned the strength to stand.

  “You’re dead!” Vedric yelled. “No one could survive that attack without shields! No one! You have to be dead!”

  Vedric fired a last blast and leaned heavily on his staff.

  Farrell summoned his staff from the ground. His mind recovered enough that he could push past the pain. “Sorry, but you’re playing at a game where you don’t understand the rules.”

  Vedric screamed and swung his staff at Farrell. His eyes opened wide as it passed through Farrell’s chest. He backpedaled and raised his hands to cover his face.

  Farrell summoned images of the loved ones Meglar had stolen from him, but it didn’t fully banish his reluctance. Realizing his hesitation had nearly killed him a moment ago, he ignored the pity and fired balls of blue wizard energy at Vedric.

  The last burst caused Vedric’s tunic to smolder. A scream of rage ripped from Vedric’s mouth before he made a wild charge at Farrell. He fired bursts of arcane power as he ran.

  Though powerful and fueled by rage, Vedric’s assault couldn’t penetrate Farrell’s shields. Farrell waited until Meglar’s son was within arm’s reach to counter. He separated his staff and slammed the energized ends against Vedric’s defenses. Aided by Khron’s Gift, Farrell’s blows were devastating.

  Vedric staggered under the attack, barely keeping his shield intact. In a desperate gambit to get away, Vedric gathered his remaining energy and hurled it at his enemy. Crossing the ends of his staffs, Farrell shoved them forward just as the blow arrived. The energy rebounded back toward its sender.

  The already weakened shield burst apart, and Vedric crumpled at the unexpected move. Panting and moaning in pain, he raised his head. The arrogant sneer was gone, and Vedric looked like a hurt child seeking comfort. Farrell’s already fragile resolve nearly collapsed.

  “There is no room for compassion for the servants of Neldin,” a voice he recognized said from behind him. Farrell glanced over his shoulder and saw the shimmering image of Seritia standing inside the circle.

  “I understand what I must do.” He heard the sadness in his voice. “But I don’t have to like it. He is as much a victim of Meglar and Neldin as any.”

  “No one said you must revel in his defeat. I would think less of you if you did. But speak of what truly stays your hand.”

  His eyes returned to his wounded enemy. “But for my grandfather sending me away, that would be me if I’d lived with Meglar. I’m sad he didn’t escape his fate as I did, and sad I didn’t get to be the big brother who could’ve taught him to be a better person.”

  “He is the elder brother. Your father sired him several years before he courted Zenora.”

  Rage stirred in his chest. “Why did no one tell her or my grandfather?”

  “None who could tell them knew.” Seritia moved closer. “Fate saved you and not him for a reason. Only you belong to the House of Kel and the House of Vedri. Only you can break Neldin’s power in this world, Halloran of Yar-del.”

  The Goddess disappeared. The battle had all but ended. Agloth’s forces were dealing with the last few Chamdon, and Farrell didn’t see any wizards of any grade left among the enemy forces.

  “You?” Vedric’s choked words, barely more than a whisper, made Farrell turn around. “They killed you.”

  “No, they did not.” He stepped out of the circle and kept his shields fully powered.

  “Farrell! Please! Answer me!” Miceral’s urgent call made it difficult for him to swallow.

  “Miceral?”

  “Farrell!” Hearing the relief in Miceral’s voice, Farrell exhaled. “You’re alive.”

  “Barely, but yes. What’s happening? Nerti took off like Neldin’s hounds chased her.”

  “You need to get over here right away.”

  “I’m busy right now, Miceral. Can’t Penelope help you?”

  “No!” The frantic edge to Miceral’s mental voice caused him to turn back toward the city. His mind replayed Nerti’s mad dash and her anguished scream.

  “Nordric.” He said the name out loud. “What happened to Nordric?”

  “How did you—?”

  “Nerti screamed his name before she ran away.”

  “A Chamdon ripped Nordric’s horn from his head. We need you here.”

  “I . . .” He glanced back at Vedric. “I need to do something first, then I’ll be there.”

  “Every second you waste could be his last. What could be more important?” Miceral’s angry accusation stung.

  “I need to kill my Meglar’s son.” He didn’t hide his irritation.

 
“Great Holy Lenore.” Miceral paused, and Farrell pictured the scene in his mind. He shuddered and pushed that thought aside. “Takala and Grohl are on their way to bring you here.”

  “Understood.” He broke the link and moved closer to his stricken adversary.

  “Halloran,” Vedric whispered when Farrell stood over him.

  “I hear you.” Farrell’s guilt swallowed any pity he felt for Vedric.

  “What do you want?”

  “Brother.”

  “Don’t call me that!” Farrell snapped. “We are not brothers.”

  “I don’t want to die.” His voice lacked the earlier arrogance.

  Vedric’s plea hardened Farrell’s resolve. “Neither did any of those you and your father killed.”

  “Your father too, Halloran.” Vedric’s voice was stronger. “Join us.”

  “Never.” He lifted his staff and pointed it at Meglar’s son. The end shook as he struggled to will the killing strike.

  “Please don’t kill me, Halloran.”

  Farrell snorted and shook his head. “You didn’t offer me the same mercy you now seek. Good-bye, Vedric.”

  “I hate you!” He tried to push himself up. “I hate you and all those who follow the Six. I curse—”

  A burst of blue wizard’s fire struck Vedric in the back. When the flash abated, Farrell saw the large hole he’d cut through the body. The corpse collapsed, and blood flowed through the veins and arteries where Vedric’s heart used to beat.

  “Thank you for making it easier for me, brother.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Nerti ran past Miceral with a wide-eyed panic Miceral had never seen from her. He both wanted and didn’t want to ask her what had happened to Farrell, but she was in no condition to ask. Movement to his right stirred hope for an instant, but when Penelope landed near him, his heart crashed again.

  “I saw from the walls.” She kept her voice low. “Is there anything we can do?”

  He didn’t know which event she referred to, but the answer was the same. “Nothing.”

  “What happened to King Farrell?” Thrinton asked.

  Penelope didn’t take her attention off Nordric. “It’s not over yet, but he’s got Vedric on the ground. I wish Farrell would kill him already and have it over.”

  Miceral stared across the battlefield. “He’s alive?”

  “Of course he’s alive.” She stood next to him and pointed across the open ground. “How can you not know that when you’re wearing your amulet?”

  “I saw the series of flashes.” Even with his enhanced vision, he couldn’t make out Farrell through the lingering activity. “When I called to him, he didn’t answer. Do you know what happened?”

  “No, only that it was big.” She left him and walked toward Nordric and the others.

  Miceral nodded. “Farrell! Please! Answer me!”

  The plea sounded desperate, and it was. Yes, he knew Farrell was in the middle of a fight, but he needed to hear his partner say something, anything, to reassure him.

  “Miceral?”

  “Farrell!” Miceral grinned like a fool. He had to fight the urge to laugh. “You’re alive.”

  “Barely, but yes. What’s happening? Nerti took off like Neldin’s hounds chased her.”

  Yanked down from his high, Miceral remembered what had just happened. “You need to get over here right away.”

  “I’m busy right now, Miceral. Can’t Penelope help you?”

  “No!” On instinct, he turned toward his stricken friend. He wanted to say more, but he froze when he saw the empty hole in Nordric’s forehead.

  “What happened to Nordric?”

  “How did you—?”

  “Nerti screamed his name before she ran away.”

  Telling Farrell made Miceral relive the event in his mind. “A Chamdon ripped Nordric’s horn from his head. We need you here.”

  “I . . . I need to do something first, then I’ll be there.”

  “Every second you waste could be his last. What could be more important?”

  “I need to kill Meglar’s son.” Farrell’s tone was cold, almost clinical.

  “Great Holy Lenore.” Miceral paused. Rather than think about that, he reached out to Takala. “Can you and Grohl go get Farrell?”

  Takala cocked his head to the left. “Why do we need to fetch him? Farrell can fly without us.”

  “Because I want to make sure he comes without delay.” He could see Takala wasn’t convinced. Before he could try again, the peregrine nodded.

  “We will go bring back our brother.”

  The pair took off, creating a swirling dust cloud in their wake.

  Miceral watched them for a moment. “Takala and Grohl are on their way to bring you here.”

  “Understood.” Farrell broke their link, so Miceral walked slowly toward Nordric.

  Thrinton had organized a growing number of dwarves into a defensive position around the small group. The fighting had mostly ended, but small clumps of leaderless Chamdon still roamed the battlefield.

  Lying on his side, Nordric blinked; his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Seeing his friend stricken and in obvious pain sent a chill down Miceral’s spine. Grenda knelt next to Nerti and Klissmor as they tried to comfort Nordric. After demanding someone get a healer, Penelope placed her hand to the wound and created a magical patch over the hole. Miceral doubted it would help. Nothing short of divine intervention would save Nordric. Given the limited way the Six could get involved, Miceral doubted that was allowed.

  Penelope peered up at Miceral. Her hard edge had evaporated and she was on the brink of tears.

  “I sent Grohl and Takala to get Farrell. Maybe the two of you can figure out some way to help.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “Let us hope he has some crazy, untried suggestion that will work.”

  Standing off to the side, Peter bent down and retrieved the missing horn. He stared at it for a moment, then squeezed it with both hands and began to sob uncontrollably. Miceral walked over and put his arm around his friend.

  Peter tried to pull away, but Miceral held on. “It’s . . . my fault . . . I . . .I killed him.”

  “It’s not your fault, Peter. Things just happen in war; no one caused this. You tried to save him. I saw it, and he did, too. You did your best, and he knows that.” Miceral stopped when he heard himself rambling.

  “My best wasn’t good enough!” He pulled back and freed himself. “If I’d stayed home, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Miceral grabbed him by both shoulders and forced Peter to look at him. “Listen to me! What happened here today is not your fault.” He took a moment to make sure he kept it together. “Good people die in battle. There’s no help for it. This did not happen because you were here. It happened despite your presence. Do you understand?”

  Peter nodded, but he was still in shock. There would be a time to speak to him later. Right now Peter was scared, heartbroken, far from home, and feeling insecure among so many powerful people. Nothing Miceral said would convince him that Nordric’s plight wasn’t his fault. Instead he pulled his friend close and let him cry onto his shoulder.

  Miceral felt a pang of guilt that he was pushing Farrell to hurry up and do something painful that would follow him the rest of his life. But there was no help for it; Nordric was dying, and Farrell might be able to save him. He prayed silently to Lenore to grant his partner the strength to do what he must and not be damaged by the experience.

  Nordric roused a bit, and his eyes focused on his parents, who hovered over him.

  “Goodbye, Mother and Father. Do not weep for me. I lived well and go to the Holy Mother knowing I’ve done all I could to rid the world of a terrible evil.”

  Miceral’s nose tingled, but his struggle to hold back his tears failed when he heard the sobs of others around him. Rubbing the water from his eyes, he marveled at the kind, gentle soul who faced death with a strength Miceral doubted he had in himself.

  To
divert his attention, Miceral checked to see if Farrell was on his way. After a few moments, he saw the two peregrines take off. They gained altitude, completed a graceful turn, and swooped down. When they soared into the air again, Farrell dangled from his staff held in one of his brother’s talons. The pair winged their way toward their fallen friend.

  The other peregrine carried what looked to Miceral to be a yellow glass coffin toward Agloth. Despite his curiosity, Miceral was more interested in Farrell’s flight. He said another prayer he didn’t expect to be answered and waited for their arrival.

  Farrell looked up and saw his adopted brothers approaching. He bent down and read the last of Vedric’s thoughts before they left his brain. There was little he could get quickly, so he encased the body in amber energy. Tapping the boxy construct with his staff, Farrell hardened it and fashioned a large handle in the center. Another spell and the box became light enough for a child to carry.

  His brothers had landed on either side of him and waited quietly while Farrell finished his work. He added a couple of spells to protect his brothers. One prevented anyone from fetching Vedric, while the other made it impossible for another wizard to locate the body.

  “I need one of you to take this to Seritia’s temple.” He looked from one to the other. “I don’t want Meglar to claim it.”

  “Get our brother to Nordric’s side, Takala.” Grohl launched himself skyward. “I’ll join you once I’ve taken Meglar’s spawn to the temple.”

  Takala flapped his wings, buffeting Farrell as he took a last look at Meglar’s son. A pang of guilt racked him as he noted the grimace on Vedric’s pale face. The thought of what could have been hurt, but it also raised the question of how many other half siblings he had. Would he be forced to kill them as well?

  Grohl swooped down and snatched the body, and Farrell grasped his staff in both hands and held it over his head. With a practiced eased, Takala plucked him off the ground as he soared upward. Takala’s powerful wings carried them across the field strewn with corpses. To his relief, most of the dead bodies were Chamdon and not Ze’arderians or dwarves.

  Recognizing they had only a few seconds, he decided he couldn’t put off his duty. “What happened?”