Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Quite.” Grogon smiled broadly. “She’s still more than capable of putting me in my place—you, too, for that matter.”

  “I never doubted that,” Horgon said.

  “Come, we should join the others. I’m sure everyone is eager to greet you.”

  “A moment please, Grogon,” Nerti said as she, Klissmor, Natice, Rothdin, and Hesnera moved through the crowd. She stopped in front of Horgon. “Since the fall of Northhelm, you have become the leader we all hoped you would be. Natice has offered to bear you henceforth as befits a respected leader.”

  Farrell had never seen Horgon rattled by anything, but this announcement left him speechless.

  “You should accept, Father,” Miceral said with a hint of humor in his words. “She might not offer again.”

  “Accept?” Horgon sounded as if he didn’t understand the word. “Accept! Yes, of course I accept. It is an unexpected honor, Queen Nerti.”

  He started to bow, but she put her horn under his chin and moved it up. “You are an equal with Rothdin and myself. My daughter is honored to be able to help.”

  Still flustered, Horgon leaped onto Natice’s back, like a child given a new toy. Although he had ridden a unicorn many times, Farrell knew it was a high honor to have a unicorn choose you to be their rider.

  A roar went up from the crowd as Horgon stared at the group. The already good mood was bolstered by Nerti’s announcement.

  As everyone prepared to ride out, Farrell hopped onto Nerti’s back, and the mood changed. Gasps and shouts erupted from the Muchari, and several unicorns and peregrines appeared surprised.

  “What?” Farrell pulled his staff from his back and spun around, looking for the danger. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nerti has never had a rider,” Hesnera said as she touched her wing to his back. “It is a development no one, myself included, expected.”

  Rothdin’s feathers puffed out. “Behold my adopted son, Farrell, Servant of Honorus, Chosen of Lenore, and Champion of the Six. Who else would Queen Nerti allow to protect so important a being?”

  The force of his father’s words, coupled with the fact Nerti didn’t throw him off, must have been enough to dispel any confusion. Nerti didn’t wait for the murmurs to die down before she took off toward the mountain.

  Farrell tried to enjoy the ride, but he couldn’t shake the feeling everyone stared at him. It wasn’t hostile, but it reminded him of how Horgon reacted when they met. It felt like everyone was waiting for him to prove or disprove himself.

  After a short ride, Nerti slowed to a halt while everyone else kept riding hard. “You and I will not be joining them.”

  “What?” Farrell tried to will them to chase after the others. After a few seconds, Miceral twisted to look back. He appeared as confused as Farrell felt. “Why?”

  “We’re going to retrieve the Ear of Lenore.”

  “Now?” He watched the welcome party put some distance between them.

  “Farrell, where are you going?” Miceral asked.

  “Nerti has decided we need to collect the Ear immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t say, and I haven’t had the chance to ask yet.”

  “Hold up and we’ll . . .” After a moment Miceral added, “Klissmor said he’ll explain it to me.”

  “Good. Then you can let me know, too. Nerti is being stingy with the details.”

  “There are no details to share.” Nerti’s terse words suggested the opposite to Farrell. “I do not wish to remain here for a visit.”

  “If it’s something you don’t wish to tell me, I understand, but why not? This is your home.”

  “Is it? Then why has Lenore forbidden me to return?”

  Farrell searched for a good response, but failing, he did not press her for more. Without another word, Nerti went north and resumed their journey. She shadowed the mountains for an hour before she stopped in front of a thick forest.

  “Steel yourself. The spirits of our departed guard the Ear,” Nerti said. “My presence they will recognize and permit. How they will react to you, I don’t know.”

  “Thanks for the advance warning.” He didn’t try to hide his sarcasm.

  “You are welcome.”

  A path appeared when Nerti stepped forward, and she moved them into the woods. The coppice felt ancient, as if few had traveled this way. A thick canopy blocked much of the sunlight, adding to the dreary and forbidding atmosphere the forest exuded. Despite the absence of anyone else, Farrell felt as if dozens of eyes were watching.

  Ignoring his discomfort, Farrell focused on his surroundings. Because of the size of the trees, he assumed they were oak or elm. But they weren’t.

  “I didn’t know Cytus trees grew this large.”

  Nerti bobbed her horn once. “Most of these trees were saplings long before Kel was born.”

  Farrell detected energy coming from the trunks and reached out with his senses. Immediately two cloudy human-shaped beings leapt from the trees and came at him until he ceased his efforts. The pair hovered between Farrell and the tree line. After a few seconds they retreated and disappeared as quickly as they emerged.

  “Whatever you did, you have aroused the guardians,” Nerti said calmly. “Perhaps it would be wise not to do that again.”

  Though prudent, Nerti’s advice didn’t sit well with Farrell. Lenore Herself wanted him to be here, so the guardians would need to accept his presence.

  “The Holy Mother gave me this mission. Her guardians need to accept me.” If Nerti disagreed with his logic, she kept it to herself.

  Farrell extended his senses again, and this time several spirits flew at him.

  “Stop!” He held up his right hand but did not release the spell he had at the ready. “I am Chosen of Lenore and here at Her command. Allow me to pass or I will ask the Holy Mother to teach you the error of your ways.”

  The apparitions pulled up short but did not disperse.

  “Do you think it wise to threaten them?” Nerti asked, somewhat amused.

  “If they try to prevent you and me from reaching our destination, then yes.”

  “Perhaps they don’t believe you need to examine the forest to complete your task.”

  Farrell considered the implications of her words. Nerti knew what it would take to find the Ear. Other spirits had joined the group following them and more were approaching.

  “Lenore has sent me to take possession of Her Gift to be used in the fight against Neldin.” Their watchers didn’t react, which Farrell took as a good sign. “If you will not aid me, I ask that you not hinder our progress.”

  The ethereal creatures maintained their distance but remained vigilant as Nerti walked deeper into the woods. After a few moments, the spirits assumed positions around Nerti.

  “Are they our escort now?” he asked her.

  “So it would appear. My knowledge of the guardians and their ways, however, is limited. They accept my presence, but we do not communicate.”

  Surrounded by an ever-growing number of shades, Farrell and Nerti trotted toward their goal. Farrell had been surreptitiously studying their silent guides when Nerti jerked to a sudden stop. The jolt caused him to lose control of the tightly held magic and it snapped back into him.

  “What?” Farrell found their way blocked by several guardians.

  “We wait here.” The voice was not Nerti’s.

  That the spirits could speak into his mind surprised Farrell. Nerti tense beneath him. “Do you know why we’re stopping?”

  “No,” she said tersely. “But do not take action against them without asking me first.”

  Farrell hoped he wouldn’t need to do anything but prepared a spell in case they were attacked. In preparation to defend them, Farrell studied their escorts closer. Several of the new beings were larger than the original few. Nerti moved, and Farrell looked up in time to see the spirits in front of them part, and three new forms approached.

  These apparitions were more
defined and recognizable. The one in the center was human or Muchari. His weathered face—and Farrell could tell the spirit was a male—was framed by white hair that fluttered behind him as if blown by a breeze. When he peered up, Farrell shivered. Where there should have been eyes, a pair of dark, vacant spaces stared at him. The form to his right was a unicorn, and the other was a peregrine.

  “Do you know these three?” Farrell asked Nerti.

  “The peregrine is Vathvin, Rothdin’s younger brother. Traymad was the first leader of the Muchari. Xertan was my eldest son. They all died in the first battle during the fight at Trellham.”

  Digesting what he’d learned, he almost missed the sign that Traymad was about to speak.

  “What business have you this deep in the forest, Nerti?” His voice was cold and grating.

  “I bear a chosen of Lenore who is the Champion of the Six. Our Holy Mother sends him to retrieve Her Gift to be used in the war against Neldin.”

  “What proof do you offer that this outsider should possess the Gift? Our purpose is to guard it against all who seek the Ear who are not worthy. This one is not even a Muchari. How can he possibly be the one Lenore has chosen after all these centuries?”

  “What right have you to demand proof from me?” Nerti’s angry tone surprised Farrell. “Lenore entrusted Her Gift to my care to bestow upon whomever I deemed worthy. Your only responsibility is to guard it until I decide who is allowed to possess it. Now step aside so we may pass.”

  “I know a good spell for dispelling spirits if you want me to use it,” Farrell said, mindful of her prior warning.

  “No, do nothing of the kind.” The urgency in her voice killed the spell forming on Farrell’s lips. “These woods are sacred to Lenore, and it is Her will that enables the spirits to exist and guard the forest. Should you attempt to meddle with what She has wrought, it would go ill for us both.”

  “Much has changed since you have been gone. No longer does your word command our obedience.”

  “What nonsense do you spout now, Traymad? Only the Holy Mother may counter my word. You will heed my command or pay the price of your folly.”

  “Ha!” The eerie sound of a spirit laughing chilled Farrell. “Empty words and empty threats. You no longer rule we who guard the forest and its treasures.”

  “So say you too, Son?” she asked Xertan. “And what of you, Vathvin? Are you likewise inclined to abandon your lord and master to follow this fool on a path to ruin?”

  Before either could respond, Farrell sensed a commotion behind him. The spirits made no sound, but their passing left a chill, clammy feeling on his skin. Nerti ignored the disturbance.

  “If you persist, Lenore Herself will take a hand, Traymad. Do not toss away a lifetime of service by thwarting the Holy Mother’s will.”

  “You do not speak for Her, Nerti.” Traymad’s confidence did not waver, but his companions were less resolute. “Perhaps we should ask Her what She wants.”

  “If that is the only way to end this standoff, then let it be so.”

  “There will be no need to summon the Holy Mother, Nerti.” The voice came from behind them.

  Before Farrell could turn, a shadow moved past him. The milky shade solidified and became more distinct. Smaller than the others, it shrank even more as it continued to sharpen. In the time it took Farrell to blink, the transformation ended, and an ancient woman walked to confront Traymad. She was thin and frail, and an air of authority surrounded her as tightly as the pale green wizard’s robe she wore. She walked with the aid of a staff longer than she was tall. Atop the polished wood, an ornately carved cap caught stray beams of light in its fiery red jewels. The stones matched the one in Kel’s staff, but instead of one large gem, a dozen smaller ones, each shaped like a flower petal, circled the crown. She turned toward Farrell and Nerti. Unlike Traymad and the others, this shade appeared solid. Her silvery-blue eyes glossed over him before her lips broke into a smile. “You favor your grandsire, young Champion.”

  “Beatrice, you hold no authority here, either. Go back to wherever you stood guard and be silent.” Traymad’s face showed no emotions—if that were even possible—but his words lacked conviction.

  “And allow you to destroy plans three thousand years and more in the making? Nay, that shall not happen.” Beatrice pointed with her staff. Farrell followed its progress and saw they were surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of shades. “For thousands of years, we who serve the Six have labored to prepare for Neldin’s return. We have waited to give aid to the Champion who will lead us in the fight to preserve what is right and good. That Champion is before you, and you would deny him that which is meant for him?”

  “What proof have we that this human is the Champion of the Six?”

  Farrell bristled at the accusation.

  “Be calm, Little One,” Nerti said. “If you respond in anger, it will be harder to persuade Traymad to listen to reason. It would be best if we could proceed without a fight.”

  “Do you say that Nerti has betrayed her Mistress?” Beatrice asked. “Because that is the only way he whom she bears would not be worthy of Lenore’s Gift.”

  “Evil wears many faces; many would seem fair and good. Even Nerti is not beyond Neldin’s power to deceive.”

  “You grasp at chaff, Traymad. Lenore has called Farrell Her Champion in my presence and given him the horn ripped from my son’s head.” Beatrice gasped. “Unless Neldin has the power to usurp the Holy Mother’s image, it is beyond question that Farrell is the Champion of the Six.”

  Traymad scanned the crowd. “What say you two?” He turned his head left and right and glanced at his companions. “Do we lay down our trust on the word of any, even Queen Nerti, or do we wait for the Holy Mother to guide us?”

  Xertan dipped his horn in Nerti’s direction. “She is my mother and would never betray us, our people, this place, or the Holy Mother. Her word is enough for me.”

  “While my brother has breath, he would never allow a pretender to set foot in these woods.” Vathvin nodded toward Farrell. “Nerti’s presence is all the guidance I require.”

  “She is not one of the Six.” Any sign that Traymad would follow his friends disappeared. “Her word carries no more weight than mine or yours. I’ll not blindly abdicate our responsibilities on her word alone.”

  “Lenore entrusted Her Gift to me to decide whom to give it to. Your task was to guard it until I made my choice.” Nerti’s tone would have scared Farrell had the words been directed at him. “Who now has visions of being more than they really are?”

  “What happened to not antagonizing him?” Farrell asked her. The expected rebuke never arrived.

  “Traymad,” Beatrice said in a steady voice, “your task is complete. You and the others have safeguarded Lenore’s sacred Gift so that Her Champion may use it for the good of all. Go now and find your rest. You have earned it. It shall be left to others to guard this place for the millennia to follow.”

  Defiant, Traymad refused to step aside. “You may not dismiss me. My task ends when Lenore says it is over. Not before.”

  “Then hear me. I speak for the Holy Mother,” a new voice said. Farrell recognized the speaker but couldn’t find him. The sound of hooves had everyone searching for the maker. Movement from the trees drew Farrell’s eyes skyward as something white descended from the leaves. The patch of swirling light where a horn should have been identified the unicorn to his friends and mother.

  “By the Six,” Beatrice whispered, but Nordric ignored everyone except Traymad.

  Farrell studied the air around his friend’s hooves but couldn’t detect what surface he ran upon that made the sound. Nordric stopped when he stood in front of Traymad. Hovering a foot off the ground, he looked down at the shade.

  “Lenore commands you to let Her Champion and servant pass, Traymad.”

  The deceased Muchari cast his gaze around Nordric to glare at Nerti. “More of your brood who think they can give me orders.”

  Ner
ti bristled, but Nordric spoke first. “Though I was born of this world, I am now more a part of yours than theirs. As messenger of Lenore, I have been sent to give you Her orders, not my own. If you refuse Her command, I have the authority and ability to see that Her will is done.”

  The usually mild-mannered Nordric radiated authority. For a few seconds, Traymad stood defiantly, and Farrell expected him to force Nordric’s hand. Finally he shook his head, and his shoulders sagged. “I . . . shall . . . not impede them.”

  “The blessing of the Holy Mother be upon you.” Nordric nodded. “Climb on my back, and I will bear you to the peace you have earned.”

  Traymad stared at Nordric before a smile lightened his features. “You would honor me so?”

  “Indeed. You have been a faithful and diligent servant. The Holy Mother rewards all who give service to Her.” Before Traymad could mount, Nordric raised his head. “The Champion has come to claim what was left for him alone. You who have protected these woods are free to go to your eternal rest. Follow me and find peace in the Holy Mother’s embrace.”

  Nordric settled onto the ground before Nerti. “You look well, Mother.”

  “I wish I could say the same of you, my son.” The sadness in her voice ripped at Farrell’s heart.

  “Do not grieve for me. I am happy and well. There is truly no greater happiness than to do Her will.” Though he had no horn, he dipped his head toward her cheek. “Give my best to Father and Flemin. Tell him the Holy Mother is greatly pleased with his efforts.”

  Nerti bowed her head for a moment. “Goodbye, my son. I . . . we miss you.”

  Farrell choked back a sob as he felt her pain. He had experienced this pain firsthand when his mother had died. He struggled to find the words to offer her, but he couldn’t say it would get better. It hadn’t for him.

  The silence dragged on too long, until a chill wind enveloped them. Nordric moved, and thousands of shades surrounded him as he began to run. Nordric’s body slowly faded, taking with him the guardians of the forest. A handful of shades drifted back into the woods, leaving just him, Nerti, and Beatrice.