Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “I am not jealous. I just said it would make good sense for me to learn how to do it, too.”

  Farrell wasn’t sure what “it” meant. He searched their faces and it came to him. “Oh. You’re upset I didn’t merge with you?”

  The peregrine’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “No, not upset. Concerned. If Takala is not available, it would remove a powerful weapon from our arsenal. Strategically, you need to be comfortable using whoever is closest.”

  “You’d better find a way to resolve this before it comes to blows,” Miceral said.

  “Why would they fight about this?”

  “I’ve known them longer than you. Even if you teach Grohl how to merge with you, Takala will rub it in his face that you used him twice in battle. But knowing the next time he can be chosen will give Grohl a better perch to argue from.”

  “Agreed.” Farrell spoke out loud to answer both Miceral and Grohl. “We can set up a time to practice when we get back to Haven.”

  Grohl’s disappointment coupled with Takala’s triumphant expression told Farrell he’d given the wrong answer.

  “How do I resolve this now?” Farrell asked Miceral. “Nothing short of doing it this instant is going to satisfy him.”

  “Can you? Practice now, I mean?”

  “I can, but that doesn’t mean I want to.” He glanced at his brothers and sighed. “Very well. We can do it here.”

  Grohl’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “How excellent.”

  “Restrain your exuberance, brother.” He shot Grohl a cautious look. “No belching fire, no attacks, nothing showy. We’ll join, fly around, and test the spells. That alone is going to be hard enough to hide. Combat practice will need to wait until we’re back at Haven.”

  “I understand.” Grohl moved back, his anticipation on full display.

  Farrell wondered if his brother really did appreciate the warning, but he’d reinforce the prohibitions once they were linked. He looked at Miceral and shook his head slightly. Practicing at this hour, with Markus coming to visit soon was a bad idea, but it was worse to have an unhappy Grohl out to deflate a boisterous Takala.

  Farrell explained the process and threatened to call off the exercise given Grohl’s impatience.

  “You gave Takala half this much instruction.”

  “That was different. I didn’t have time to do more, and this time I need to shield our activities or else Dumbarten will assume it’s under attack.”

  Grohl did his best to contain—barely—his excitement, and Farrell completed the lessons. Once he shielded them, Farrell flew up to wait for his brother. Moving with Grohl, he lowered himself onto the space between the wings and felt this muscle expand and contract.

  “Ready?”

  “Of course!”

  Farrell linked their minds and engaged the spell. Joined on such a deep level, his brother’s buoyant feelings nearly swamped Farrell. Tamping down the excitement, Farrell took them through a series of simple maneuvers until Grohl took control.

  He allowed Grohl to simulate strafing runs on imaginary enemies and let him experience what energy coursing through him to belch fire would feel like. They’d flown around for over an hour when he noticed activity in several directions.

  Riding toward Penelope’s estate from the north, a lone unicorn galloped hard. Grohl’s superior sight identified this as a unicorn Farrell had never met but assumed would be Flemin. The rider—make that riders—however, would be hard to miss.

  Kel sat flagpole-straight on his mount, holding two young children. The older of the two, a girl, looked everywhere. The boy laughed and kept his face straight ahead.

  West of Kel, a large column of mounted soldiers rode hard on what might have been an intercept course if they were trying to catch a horse. At the pace Kel’s companion kept to, the cavalry was going to miss their target by five minutes or more.

  Finally, a third column had emerged from Dreth’s main gate to the southwest. Grohl easily spotted Markus’s personal banner leading the group. They appeared oblivious to activity to the north and maintained an easy canter toward their appointment at the princess’s home.

  Grohl angled toward Kel, dove, and made a wide turn so they could swoop over the top of the racing unicorn. Kel raised an eyebrow as they flew but didn’t otherwise react. When Farrell checked his concealment spells, he realized he didn’t account for wind. Grohl left the magical matters to Farrell and streaked toward the manor.

  Nerti, Klissmor, Takala, and Miceral waited for them when they touched down inside the now-bustling courtyard.

  “Did you two stir up this bees’ nest?” Miceral asked, barely hiding his amusement.

  “Not us.” Farrell motioned for the gate. “Kel and his unicorn would be the cause.”

  Nerti stiffened and turned to Klissmor. Whatever passed between them, they didn’t share. Penelope and Marisa followed a company of soldiers into the courtyard. Jagwin and his dwarves followed closely behind with their weapons in hand.

  “Is something amiss?” Farrell thought he detected a note of elation in Jagwin’s voice.

  Before Farrell could answer, Penelope turned on him.

  “You brought this on us.” She waved her hand at the soldiers and people rushing about. “First you invite my nephew to visit, then you and your brother fly around until a legion of cavalry comes out to investigate. All of whom are descending on my home now.”

  Farrell shook his head. “First, I didn’t invite Markus; he told me he was coming. Next, no one detected us, not even Kel.”

  “Kel? What does he have to do with this?”

  “We flew over him on our way home. He’s riding toward your gate and should arrive any moment.” Farrell saw soldiers opening the gate. “Kel is why the legion is racing toward your home.”

  Her retort died before she spoke it, and she turned toward the gate, back to Farrell, and finally back to the gate again. “Open that Neblor bedamned gate!”

  When the doors finally parted, Farrell saw a bemused Kel sitting quietly on the unicorn’s back.

  “Flemin?” Nerti’s voice was hesitant and hopeful.

  “Hello, Mother. I trust you and Father are well?”

  Nerti rushed forward, nearly knocking Farrell to the ground. Klissmor followed a step behind.

  Farrell turned to Miceral, who shrugged. “I’ve never met him before.”

  “Our son disappeared almost a thousand years ago,” Klissmor said. “Until Jolella mentioned his name in Agloth, we assumed he’d died.”

  While Nerti and Klissmor reunited with their son, Kel moved away and approached. He held the girl’s hand and carried the toddler in his right arm.

  “Hello, Grandson.” Kel wore a bemused expression that Farrell had seen before. “Sorry to show up so late, but the children woke up hungry. I decided to feed them first. Though I suspect they are still hungry. I didn’t have much left in my pantry that children like.”

  The little girl, who appeared about five years old, glanced suspiciously at everyone in the courtyard. When Farrell knelt down, she clutched Kel’s hand tighter and moved slightly behind his leg.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Marisa asked the girl.

  Instead of answering, she hid farther behind Kel’s robe.

  “Now, Geena. Don’t be shy. The Lady Marisa won’t hurt you. She only asked if you were hungry.”

  Geena peeked around the cloth of Kel’s gray robe.

  Marisa bent down as well and smiled. “Would you like to come with me and we can see what the cook has for breakfast?”

  “Bren’s hungry, too.”

  Marisa looked at Penelope and Farrell, speechless for a moment. She forced a smile back on her face and said, “Then he should join us. I’m sure the cooks have plenty of food for both of you.”

  Kel set Bren down, and he happily reached for Marisa’s hand. That seemed to resolve something for Geena as she grabbed Marisa’s other hand. Everyone watched as the three walked toward the house.

&nbs
p; “An interesting choice of names for the pair, wouldn’t you say?” Kel said when Marisa had the children inside.

  A trumpet blared, and Penelope’s guards rushed to close the gate.

  “Oh bother!” Penelope nodded to Kel and walked toward her soldiers. “Leave it open! It’s the king’s cavalry, not a band of thieves.”

  “You certainly know how to make an entrance.” Farrell shifted his gaze from Kel to the gate and finally to Flemin and his parents. “You may have found the only way to heal Nerti’s broken heart.”

  “I doubt I have done that, but she is entitled to some joy.” Kel’s expression spoke of a hidden meaning, but before Farrell could ask more, he heard Penelope yelling.

  “No, you may not enter my home!” She planted her staff firmly in the ground and barred their way. “If you don’t like my answer, go back and ask the king for written permission. Then I’ll think about letting you bring your men inside my walls.”

  Farrell wasn’t sure he could help, but he was less upset than Penelope.

  “Princess.” He ignored the daggers she shot him. “Perhaps the general should wait and ask him in person? From the air, my brother and I saw King Markus riding this way.”

  Grohl moved closer and put his head over Farrell’s right shoulder. “I give you my word as a favored servant of Honorus, there is nothing amiss inside these walls.”

  “Favored servant? When did you start tossing that around?” Farrell sent silently to his brother.

  “Not now, little brother, I am posturing.”

  Farrell laughed in spite of his best attempts not to.

  “There.” Penelope pointed toward Grohl. “Does that satisfy you? Are you going to argue with him, too?”

  The officer did not answer right away and kept shifting his gaze from person to person.

  “I give up. Someone else try and beat some sense into this man’s head before I blast it off his shoulders.” Penelope marched off. Before she got ten steps, she turned back. “If they are not off my property when I return, I will personally remove them by force.”

  “My apologies that my return to Dreth caused such an uproar, but I assure you there is no danger to Dumbarten.”

  “Just who are you?” the officer demanded.

  “Kel, son of Bren and Geena.” Farrell felt a small surge of power and almost snorted at the festival-grade magic Kel used to glow blue-white. “And who are you?”

  The general sputtered and turned to his junior officers. He returned his gaze to Kel but didn’t speak.

  “I have that effect on people. I’ll leave you two to wait for the king while I go check on the children.” Kel left without giving Farrell a chance to object.

  “How did we get guard duty?” he asked Grohl.

  “It must be our reputation for being fierce and feared fighters.”

  “More like the others thought to leave before we did.”

  They didn’t need to wait long before another horn blew, announcing Markus’s arrival.

  “That would be the king.” Farrell raised an eyebrow. “You may want to go meet him, sir.”

  The king’s standard was visible as the cavalry moved aside to allow his column to approach the walled manor.

  “Cousin, is this your attempt to make sure you got my full attention?”

  “Don’t blame me. Kel decided to ride Neblor-bent for Penelope’s estate. Grohl and I just got stuck guarding the gates.”

  Grohl gave the king his most menacing posture. Several of his guards put hands to their weapons, but Markus laughed and motioned for them to relax.

  “General, take your troops back to their barracks. There is no threat here. I appreciate the zeal, but next time, seek my permission before you surround Auntie Penelope’s house. She can be difficult in the best of times.”

  Without waiting for the general to follow his orders, Markus dismounted and led his guards through the gate. “Where is King Kel?”

  “He went back inside after telling Grohl and me to wait for you. Now he’s probably checking on Geena and Bren.”

  Markus stopped in his tracks. “Bren and Geena? His parents are alive, too?”

  “No.” Farrell laughed. “That would be too easy. When he arrived he had two small children with him. Geena looks about five and Bren is maybe two or three.”

  “Did he say who they are?”

  “No, the cavalry arrived before we could ask him. But we can go ask him, if you like.”

  “You delight in making my life interesting, don’t you?” Markus said, gripping Farrell’s shoulder.

  “You seemed a bit burdened lately. I thought some excitement would help.”

  Markus laughed and motioned for Farrell to lead the way. “I knew you’d be good company, cousin.”

  They found the others in the dining hall. The children were eating at the end of the table under the care of a doting servant. If they realized the uproar they’d created, it didn’t show. Farrell introduced Kel to Markus and allowed them barely enough time to exchange pleasantries before he interrupted.

  “Grandfather, who are the children?” Something about them raised his suspicions.

  “As I said, their names are Geena and Bren.”

  The curt, deflecting answer confirmed some of his suspicions. He glanced at the children happily eating sweet pastries and making a mess. “So you did. Why do you have them?”

  “They are my descendants.” Kel leaned back in his chair. “Their parents were killed, and I rescued them.”

  “Killed? How?” Miceral asked.

  “They and their parents were traveling from their estate to Yar-del City when they were ambushed by followers of the House of Vadra. Honorus alerted me to their plight, and when I arrived, their mother was dead and their father had been mortally wounded killing the enemy wizard. Only two guards remained to defend the children against more than twenty soldiers.” Kel’s smile was gone. “As you can imagine, my rage was great, and I quickly killed the remaining enemy.”

  “Impossible!” Farrell shook his head. “That can’t have happened.”

  “Oh?” Kel seemed amused. “Why is that?”

  “Where do I start?” Farrell counted on his fingers. “First, I’m your last descendant. Second, even if there were others, they sure as Neblor wouldn’t be traveling from their estate to Yar-del City, as it and all of Yar-del is currently under Meglar’s rule. Third, given Bren’s age, this had to have taken place in the last couple of years. What possible reason would this mythical descendant of yours have for going to an enemy-occupied Yar-del City? And if they had a good reason, they would have to be connected to Meglar, so why would his family attack them? This whole story is ridiculous. The House of Vadra fell more than three thousand years ago.”

  “I know.” Kel laughed. “I was there, in case you forgot.”

  Farrell frowned. “This new learning amazes me. Who knew you were there when Vadra was defeated by Kel?”

  Kel’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed. “You do not know all there is to know, my young grandson. It would serve you well to ask questions before you decide those who know more than you are lying.”

  Kel was right, but the admonishment put Farrell on the defensive. He defiantly met Kel’s reproachful stare.

  “Though your assessment of Farrell is partially correct, Grand Master Kel, he raises several valid points about your story.” Penelope put her hand out to stifle Farrell’s comment. “It would be helpful if you directly explained this more fully.”

  That would be a first. Farrell didn’t voice his thought.

  “They are valid only if you assume this happened in the recent past.” Kel peered into his cup. “Do you have some water without wine?”

  Penelope nodded and summoned a pitcher from the sideboard. She poured Kel some water and handed it to him.

  “Thank you.” He took a long drink before he continued. “For centuries I’d noticed that many of my descendants died young or for no discernable reason. Never the immediate royal family, but didn�
��t anyone wonder why there were no other families with ties to the royal family?”

  “I wasn’t told I was part of the family until I was twelve, so I never gave it much thought. And after I learned of my birthright . . .” He shrugged. “If my mother had considered it, she didn’t discuss it with me.”

  “It came up, but no one thought it suspicious,” Penelope said. “Over that much time, numerous other royal lines have died out. Hevnor’s nearly did fifteen centuries ago.”

  “With the benefit of the Eye of Honorus, I learned the House of Vadra had been systematically killing my descendants for centuries. Most did not have direct ties to the royal family. That, plus a few generations where only one child survived, succeeded in limiting my heirs. Havtor and his two children were the last in the line that descended from my youngest son, Arnel. After I rescued them, I brought the children to my house for their safety.”

  “So how . . .?” Farrell had calmed down enough that he finally heard all Kel had said. “How long have they been asleep in your house?”

  Kel’s smile returned. “Very good, Farrell. The attack occurred over twelve hundred years ago.”

  “You used that spell on them?” Farrell ignored the others and stared at Kel. “Why would you do that?”

  “To keep them alive, of course.”

  “You could have found them a new home.” Farrell liked the situation even less the more he learned. “Better yet, you could have warned the king about this threat, and they could have taken steps to prevent future deaths.”

  “For reasons not told to me, Honorus wanted the world to believe me dead. Any direct attempt to warn the royal family would have revealed my presence. I did send messages through other agents, which along with the obvious decline in the royal family numbers should have been enough for people to see a pattern. But they did not.”

  Kel’s voice and how he looked mirrored the loss Farrell felt. Honorus had cost both of them everything for His purpose. “No, they didn’t.”

  “What about the children?” Miceral asked. “Couldn’t you find them homes?”

  “I planned to, but Honorus told me to keep them until he gave me new instructions. What I thought would be a short time turned into much more.”