Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “But it tried to kill me. It knocked me aside.”

  “So it could turn on Nordric.” Farrell nodded. “Yes, Peter, it’s true. That Chamdon knocked you down, but it didn’t try to kill you, did it?”

  “No.” Peter’s eyes no longer focused on Farrell. “I raised my sword, but it had turned around—”

  “To attack Nordric.” He let his words sink in before he continued. “I saw what happened through Takala’s eyes. Nordric was caught by surprise when he tried to come to your aid. No one expected that. No one.”

  “But if I’d been better, I’d have killed that Chamdon before he could get to Nordric.”

  “If Miceral or Klissmor or my adopted brothers had killed a few more Chamdon, they’d have never reached your position. It’s a foolish game to play ‘what if.’ Any number of things could have changed the outcome.”

  “Then why is it only your fault?” Peter’s question made Farrell smile. A rueful one he used to hide his pain.

  “Because unlike everyone else, I chose not to kill someone when I had the chance. You can say you tried your best the entire battle. I can’t.” Farrell’s nose tingled, and he rubbed his eyes to stop the tears. “I never considered the risks to everyone else that my actions caused. After all the fights I’ve been in, I knew better and I still did it. I was selfish and stupid. That is what cost Nordric his life.”

  The guilt he’d walled off broke through and crushed him under its weight. When Peter put an arm around his shoulders, he tried to shake it off.

  “Maybe there’s room enough for everyone to accept their role.”

  “No, Peter. You need to let go of your guilt because in this you bear none. I’ll be fine. I made a mistake, a costly one, but I’ll do better.” He had to, or the consequences would continue to haunt him.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Markus seemed put off when Farrell and Miceral arrived. Though he asked questions, he didn’t pay attention.

  “Very nice.” Markus looked up from his document. “You found Kel in his house?”

  “That is what we said.” Farrell smiled.

  “Don’t be smug, cousin. Running a kingdom as large as Dumbarten is time-intensive.” Markus gave them his full attention. “As many times as my family has been there over the centuries, how did we find no trace?”

  “Kel didn’t want you to find him,” Miceral said. “I’m not sure we’d have found him if he didn’t want us to.”

  “I could have with the Eye, but probably not without it.” Farrell stopped himself from reaching for the gem. “Honorus had a hand in this; add to that Kel is that good and there’s nothing surprising in his hiding in plain view.”

  A minister ran up out of breath before Markus could answer. The king gave them a look that reminded Farrell why he hated the afternoon complaint sessions. “Would you mind if we spoke more later? Tell Auntie Penelope I’ll come by tomorrow for a visit and to meet Grand Master Kel. That ought to set the pair of them running around like hens with their heads chopped off.”

  “Why do you torture her?” Miceral asked.

  “Haven’t you met her?” Markus’s smile only partially hid the serious note to his words. “She defers to me if I insist, but otherwise she acts like I’m—”

  “The nephew she watched grow up?” Farrell raised an eyebrow. When Markus stumbled for a reply, Farrell continued. “Masters Wesfazial and Erstad still treat me like a child, and I’m not only their sovereign, I’m a grand master wizard. I’ve come to learn it’s hard for those older than us to let go of the childish things we did in the past. Remember that when your son gets older and you forget he’s not four.”

  “You’re wise beyond your years, Farrell.” The minister let out the barest sigh, and Markus rolled his eyes. “Tomorrow.”

  Marisa, not Penelope, leapt into action when they told her of Markus’s plan to come visit the next day. Penelope followed after, cursing her nephew while trying to calm down her partner. They were so preoccupied, they barely spoke to Claire and Peter as they left. Miceral stopped the pair long enough to make sure a suitable number of guards accompanied them into the city.

  After the third dagger-filled look from Penelope, Farrell decided to go to bed. Anticipating Kel’s arrival, Farrell did not sleep well. He gave up any pretense of sleeping as the sun peeked over the horizon and silently slipped out of bed.

  On his way to the courtyard, he stopped at the already bustling kitchen. Word of Markus’s visit had set the entire house on its head. He grabbed a breakfast pastry from a tray and winked at the cook. She stopped, but instead of demanding the food back, she handed him some fresh coffee.

  He set the cup and food down and bowed deeply. When he stood, he presented her with a red rose. “With my compliments.”

  As he’d hoped, the courtyard was empty. Farrell floated over the hardpacked ground with his coffee hovering next to him.

  Finding Kel alive changed everything. With his ancestor’s help, he might be able to confront Meglar sooner than planned. Or rally the rest of the world to his side. After all, who would want to fight Kel? The new possibilities left him excited and a bit daunted.

  He took a sip and found his coffee had gone cold. At first he thought to reheat it, but when his stomach grumbled, he decided to get a new cup along with more food. He was about to step down when he heard noise coming from the house.

  The greeting for Marisa, who he expected would be up this early, fell away when he saw Peter and a young male walking stealthily from the house. Farrell smiled when they froze upon seeing him.

  Peter’s guest was a couple of inches taller than Peter, but they shared the same thin and gangly build. His brown hair was cut short, and by the look of his clothing, he was either high-born or from a wealthy merchant family.

  Farrell stepped down and walked over. “Hello.”

  Peter had turned an amazing shade of crimson, while his new friend stared at the floating cup. Farrell held out his hand to Peter’s guest. “How do you do. I’m Farrell.”

  Hesitantly the young man accepted the offered hand. “Wallace, my lord. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Farrell will do fine.” He walked into the doorway, looked both ways, then popped his head back out. “Go on, do what you planned. I’ll watch out for any real adults.”

  He gave them a conspiratorial wink and then went back to the kitchen. After grabbing more food for himself and Peter, he waited inside the hallway to allow the pair some privacy. Still flushed, Peter finally poked his head inside.

  “Here, I got some for you, too.” Farrell held out the tray of bread and pastries.

  Sheepishly Peter accepted a small loaf of warm bread with a large pat of butter melting on top. Farrell walked outside and resumed his position. He wasn’t surprised when Peter pulled a chair from against the wall and moved it closer.

  “You aren’t going to tell everyone, are you?” Peter looked everywhere but at Farrell.

  “Not if you don’t want me to, but I suspect it will be common knowledge soon enough. The guards must know, and they’ll tell someone who’ll tell a servant, and soon it will be all over the manor.”

  Peter appeared queasy, and he hadn’t taken a bite. “Oh. Right.”

  “He seemed nice. Did you at least have fun?” Farrell took a sip of coffee to hide his amusement.

  Gone was the sick look, replaced by a big smile. “Yes. And he is nice, in more ways than one.” Peter blushed again, and Farrell laughed.

  “Planning to see him again?”

  The question brought a new expression to Peter’s face—miserable. “I want to, but we live half a world apart.”

  “And?” He took a bite and chewed quickly when Peter just shrugged. “Have him visit you at Haven,” Farrell replied nonchalantly.

  “Oh that’s helpful. ‘Hey, Wallace, how about you take a two-month voyage and come visit me.’ What a great idea.”

  Farrell nearly snorted coffee through his nose. “Are you forgetting that one of your best friends—me�
��can open a Door almost anywhere?”

  “You’d do that for me?” His hopeful expression quickly faded. “As if he’d want to do that, anyway.”

  “True, what possible reason could he have for visiting the crown prince of Belsport?” Farrell rolled his eyes. “Honestly, if I was this addlebrained when smitten by a handsome young man, I’m surprised people didn’t throw cold water on me.”

  “Who said I was smitten?”

  “Me.” He pushed the last of his breakfast into his mouth. “I’m not that much older than you, Peter.”

  “Were you like this when you met Miceral?”

  “No. I was worse.” They both laughed. “Back to the topic. Why wouldn’t he want to visit? He liked you enough to spend the night, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but what would he tell his family?”

  Farrell peered at the sky and sighed. “I take it back, you are worse.

  What is it about finding a cute young man that your brains go to mush?” “You think he’s cute, too?” Peter’s smile stretched across his face.

  “Stop doing that.” Farrell’s irritation caused Peter to flinch.

  “What?”

  “Going off on a tangent instead of answering my questions.” He glared at his friend for a moment. “Of course he’s good-looking. My point was, why does it matter what his family thinks? He reached his majority, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he’s a year older than I am.”

  “So what his family thinks isn’t important. And—” He held up his hand to prevent another change in topic. “Even if it mattered, do you really think any family would object to him visiting the crown prince of Belsport? Do you?”

  “When you put it like that, no. But I don’t want him to want to visit because I’m the prince of Belsport.”

  Farrell didn’t need Peter to explain. “What’s his family background?”

  “His father is a baron, but they’re a merchant family, too.”

  “Ah. You don’t want a repeat of what happened with Pervis.” Farrell tried to find a good answer, but nothing came to mind. “All I can say is go slowly and be on your guard. But a word of warning?”

  “Just one?”

  “It’s not too late for me to set off flares and announce your liaison to the house, you know.” He created a ball of fire in his left hand.

  “What did you want to tell me?”

  “Now you want my advice?”

  “Farrell!” Peter’s voice echoed around the empty space, and he looked around to see if anyone heard him. “Just tell me.”

  “Since you insist.” He winked and finished his coffee. “Don’t be overly cautious to the point you push people away. Not everyone is like Pervis and his family. In fact, I’d say most people aren’t like that and their feelings toward you are genuine. Be careful but not frigid.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good enough.” He summoned a chair and sat across from Peter. “Now I want to hear about your evening, excluding the parts that will make us both blush.”

  Peter chuckled nervously before he answered. Right after he and Claire had left the house, she tried to send the guards back, but they refused to obey. They’d ridden to the outskirts of Dreth and left their horses at the wall. Claire’s mood didn’t improve when the guards followed them to an inn popular with the children of wealthy families and the nobility.

  She’d made a big deal about how Peter had accompanied her mother and the others on an important quest. With every detail she added, more young people crowded around to meet Peter.

  That led to a slew of questions, which made him uncomfortably the center of attention. He left to relieve himself. When he’d finished, he tried to avoid Claire’s group, where she was holding court in his stead.

  Wallace had stayed back from the main group, but Peter had noticed him earlier. They’d exchanged enough glances that he figured Wallace had some interest. Having had a bit to drink, Peter found the courage to start a conversation. They’d hit it off very well until Claire came over to find out where Peter had gone.

  “It was obvious she didn’t like him,” Peter said. “Wallace said it’s because he doesn’t worship her like everyone else.”

  The staff had brought out more food while the two had been talking. Farrell sipped his fresh coffee and asked, “Did Claire know he prefers men?”

  “She knew, but you’d be amazed at how popular she is. There were a few in her group she said might be my type. Claire is the popular one everyone wants to be with.”

  “Everyone except Wallace.”

  “He said he likes her well enough, but he never felt the need to tell her how much fun she is like everyone else.” Peter shrugged. “I can’t say I blame him. I don’t like being at the center of attention, and that is what happens when you’re around her.”

  “Ah the downsides of popularity.” He summoned the tray of food and left it hovering between them. “Continue with your story.”

  “Claire noticed us, and she was not exactly nice when she ordered me to come with her.”

  “Ordered you?”

  Peter had taken a cinnamon roll from the tray and shoved half of it in his mouth just as Farrell spoke. He nodded and chewed quickly. Farrell could hear more activity inside the house and realized others would be joining them soon. Peter quickly swallowed enough so he could speak.

  “Yes, ordered me. She was a bit put out when I refused and told her I was good sitting there with Wallace. Finally she realized why I was there with him, but she still wouldn’t leave us alone.”

  “That’s bothersome.”

  “Tell me about it.” Peter ate part of his roll and washed it down with some water. “Eventually she left when her friends started calling for her. But the whole time she was gone, she kept looking over at us. It made it uncomfortable and hard to talk.”

  “At least she didn’t come back.”

  “Yes, she did. Twice.” He ate the last of his pastry and licked the sticky sugar off his fingers. “The first time she came to ‘check on me.’ As if she couldn’t see I was fine from her perch.”

  Farrell snorted at the image of Claire holding court while angry at the one who got away.

  “The second time it was to tell me we had to go.”

  “So how did you two . . . you know . . .” Farrell waved his fingers in the direction of the house.

  “You can say ‘spent the night together.’ It won’t offend me.”

  “Fine. How did that happen?”

  Peter laughed and shook his head. “Why are you embarrassed?”

  “Just finish the story. In case you can’t hear it, Marisa has set the entire house on its head to prepare for Markus’s visit.”

  “Claire suggested it.”

  “Claire?”

  “You seem at a loss for words today. Yes, that’s what I said. Claire suggested Wallace come back with us if I was so inclined. Of course, Wallace and I hadn’t talked about that, so it caused an awkward moment.”

  Farrell laughed loud enough that Peter checked the doorway. “How I wish I could have been an invisible observer for that one moment.”

  “It got worse. I waited for him to say something, and I guess he was waiting for me. Claire threw up her hands and told him to come with us. Thankfully he agreed.” Peter smiled, and his gaze seemed far away. “What happened after that I’m going to keep to myself.”

  “As well you should.” He gave his friend a big grin and stood. “I’m glad you had a good time. Now perhaps you should go back to bed and get some sleep this time.”

  The color returned to Peter’s cheeks. “Why are you up this early?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m too excited that Kel is coming. I couldn’t sleep, so I came outside to think and restart my morning exercises.”

  “Then I definitely need to get some sleep. If Miceral finds me here, he’ll want me to practice with you.” His expression became mischievous. “I had my fill of exercise for the day.”

  Farrell struggled not to laugh too
loud and shooed Peter along. When he was alone, Farrell began stretching. He was barely halfway through his routine when Miceral arrived.

  “You seem in a good mood for being up so early.” Miceral picked up a pastry filled with cheese and meat that Farrell had planned to eat after he’d finished. “I didn’t hear you get out of bed.”

  “I couldn’t sleep knowing Kel would be here today.”

  “Did you see Peter when he left with his friend?”

  Farrell smiled as he leaned into his stretch. “I wondered if you’d heard them when they left their room.”

  “Despite their attempt to be quiet, shushing each other and laughing made it hard to miss. I need to speak to him about how to be quiet when you don’t want to be heard.”

  Farrell continued to limber up and filled Miceral in on the details of Peter’s night in the city. Before Miceral could suggest they start training in earnest, the courtyard erupted in eddies of dust. Grohl and Takala landed, the backdraft creating an even greater swirl of dirt.

  “I told you they’d be awake,” Grohl said. “Miceral has helped train our brother well.”

  The two moved closer, and Takala bristled slightly.

  “Must you two argue over every little thing?” Miceral asked.

  “Who’s arguing?” Takala stood a bit straighter. “We merely discussed whether our brother would be awake or not. Despite his words, I held the same position as he.”

  “Not so.” Grohl moved away from Takala toward Farrell. “Our brother questioned if we should come so early given your ‘unseemly need to sleep away daylight hours.’ His words, not mine.”

  Takala’s feathers stood away from his body, but Farrell held up his hand. “Most days, you’d be right, so it was a lucky guess on Grohl’s part.”

  Grohl’s mood flattened. “And to think, I stuck up for you when he disparaged you.”

  Miceral laughed and Farrell joined him.

  “Why were you debating this in the first place?” Miceral rolled his shoulders and stretched. “It’s early for even you two.”

  “Grohl is still racked with jealousy.” Takala’s expression improved, while Grohl seethed.