Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Tell them Khron has commanded you to free them,” Father Aswick said.

  “Do you think they’ll believe—?” Farrell saw the elders keep the other dwarves from bolting toward the Door. “Father Aswick, Grandfather, come here, please. Quickly.”

  “What are you up to?” Kel asked.

  “Here.” Farrell slid his hand down his staff, offering Kel the end. “Father Aswick and I are going in.”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Erstad shouted.

  Farrell ignored his teacher and stared at Aswick. “If you tell me this is foolish, I’ll defer to you, but they need a sign this isn’t a trick. Why else would Khron require a high priest remain in residence all these centuries if there were no purpose?”

  No one spoke, and Farrell looked to Kel. His grandfather shifted his gaze from Farrell to Aswick. He studied the priest for a few seconds and then put his hand on Farrell’s staff.

  “Hold tight to your staff and do not let go of Father Aswick.” Kel held up his free hand toward Erstad and Glendora. “He is the key out of their prison. You are only here to aid him.”

  “Are you mad?” Erstad tried to move forward, but Kel kept him away. “Don’t step over the threshold, Farrell. You’ll be lost in the void for all time!”

  Farrell’s heart raced. Erstad voiced the wisdom of untold millennia. Farrell knew this was the right decision, but if he was wrong . . . He felt a hand grasp his and looked down. Aswick squeezed his fingers tightly around Farrell’s.

  “Khron commanded you to free His people. I have faith in what you do.”

  Chills ran down Farrell’s spine. He stared at Erstad and let his gaze flick over his shoulder. Glendora had said nothing. She stood behind her friend, conflicted. When their eyes met, she opened hers a bit wider.

  “Let them go, Erstad.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “This is a true leap of faith. They must do what the Six require.”

  Erstad’s frantic expression softened only a bit. He shook his head but stepped back.

  Farrell turned to Aswick. “Stay with me, Holy Father.” He squeezed back for emphasis.

  Aswick tapped the ornate staff of his office on the stone. “Just try to lose me.”

  Farrell took a deep breath, and the pair stepped together. As at Agloth, Farrell experienced a moment of disorientation. Aswick tightened his grip but stayed on his feet. The feeling passed, and he searched their surroundings.

  He could see Father Aswick and the tip of his staff glowed brightly, but Farrell couldn’t see the lines of his Door. If he hadn’t been holding on to the shaft, they’d have no way to get back. Although he couldn’t see anything behind him, he knew that if he walked back, he’d leave the void. Carefully he inched his hand back along the staff until his hand disappeared. He retracted it until just the merest bit of skin was missing. The energy that held open the portal tickled his fingertip, letting him know he still made contact.

  He pushed a tiny bit of power through the plane, and the edges of the Door twinkled. Repeating the process with more energy, Farrell lit up the lines and they stayed illuminated.

  “There.” Father Aswick pointed across his body with his right hand.

  Farrell saw the glint of light on the survivors of Trellham.

  “Speak to them, Father. Convince them we are not with Neldin.”

  “Isn’t our appearance enough?”

  Farrell shook his head. “Consider it from their perspective. They’d no doubt been told that one day someone would come and free them, yet it’s only minutes later to them. Their world was at war with Neldin. They are not wizards who understand the nature of the void, and they have no way of knowing we banished the hordes of Neblor. To them, it is very likely a trick to lure them back to their deaths.”

  “I understand. If I were with them, I’d caution much the same.” He moved to his right as far as he could and still maintain contact with Farrell. “Can they hear me?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think if you speak loud enough, they’ll hear you. If not, I know a spell or two that could help.”

  Aswick extended the golden scepter of his office away from his body. “Citizens of Trellham. I am Father Aswick, high priest of Khron. In the name of the Holy Father, I tell you we are not your enemies. May Khron strike us dead if we are.”

  “Did you really need to add that last bit?” Farrell glanced down.

  Aswick never took his gaze from the dwarves. “Only a true priest of Khron may call upon Him like I did. There is no surer way to prove we are friends than for me to claim to be the high priest and give Khron permission to kill me if I’m not.”

  Not that he expected Khron to appear, but Farrell didn’t like being included on the list of who could be struck down.

  The dwarves hadn’t started toward the Door, but they moved around a bit more. A spirited debate, in hushed tones, commenced at the front of the group. Others joined in, but a female dwarf carrying a child broke ranks first. Others shouted to her, but she continued toward Farrell. Soon others, many with small children in their arms or in tow, joined her.

  “Welcome, my children,” Aswick said to the mother and child who arrived first. “May Khron bless you and your family for your faith.”

  She clutched the child tighter to her chest. “This is all the family I have left, and I don’t want him to grow up here.”

  Aswick let go of Farrell’s hand and touched her face gently. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. “And so he shall not. Return home.”

  The rest of Trellham followed, first in small numbers and then larger groups and finally one large swarm. Aswick blessed each group that passed, refusing to wipe the tears that streamed down his cheeks. An elderly dwarf pulled a strip of cloth from her pocket and dabbed away the drops.

  Soon the crowd stretched from one end of the door to the other as they streamed around Farrell and Aswick. The last to leave were a contingent of royal guards and an older dwarf who had led the group opposed to going back.

  “Are you Trellham’s king?” Farrell asked.

  The dwarf’s eyes narrowed. He blinked and shook his head. “Nay, I am Lord Trelb, the king’s first minister. His Majesty and the royal family were killed almost as soon as Neldin’s foul spawn erupted from the depths of Neblor.”

  “You knew that,” Aswick said. “Khron would not have named you and Miceral kings of Trellham if the king had survived.”

  Farrell glared at his companion, but the priest ignored him.

  “King? A human?” Trelb put his hand on sword.

  “Be calm. Nothing sinister has happened. All will be explained once you are back in Trellham.” Father Aswick looked pleased. “The good father will personally explain all that has happened while you were gone.”

  “Gone? It’s been just a few minutes.” Trelb’s eyes narrowed again. “What could possibly have happened?”

  “More than three thousand years have passed since you stepped into the void. Much has happened in that time.” Trelb and the soldiers stole glances at Aswick but didn’t move. “Lord Trelb, I know you don’t trust me yet, but if it comes to a fight, wouldn’t you feel more secure having it on the other side of the Door?”

  “Unless that’s a trap, too.”

  “You have my word as high priest of Khron for all Nendor, there is nothing but your home on the other side of the Door.” Aswick stood rigid. “If you won’t accept my word and come back, I’ll inform Holy Khron that a select few of his dwarves exhibited the stubborn streak we are known for, and we left them behind. I appreciate your dilemma, but you and the others had faith in the gods when you entered. You need to have that same faith that they wouldn’t let you out only to be killed or captured.”

  Aswick left the void. The guards looked to their leader but didn’t break ranks. Trelb nodded toward the Door. “As the priest said, we have to take it on faith you are a friend and not a foe. But if you betray us, I’ll do everything in my power to see that you pay.”

  “A fair resolution.” Farrell was glad Aswick w
ent first to warn the others. “Please go so I can make sure no one else is left.”

  Trelb never backed down, but he and the others marched through the Door. Farrell prayed to the Six that Aswick and Kel could defuse whatever happened next. He ordered the Eye to show him everyone in the void, and seeing no one, Farrell exited and walked into all Neblor breaking loose in Trellham.

  “You knew?” Erstad screamed. Red-faced, he stood inches from Kel. Scores of dwarves, including Trelb and his guards, waited nearby, watching.

  “How could I know?” Kel gave Farrell a nod and let go of the staff. “Whatever happened had nothing to do with Farrell or me.”

  “What happened?” Farrell scanned the cavern but saw no signs of attack.

  “Have you any idea how loud that spell screamed out your presence? Journeymen wizards, still in training half a world away, heard you.”

  “Noise? We shielded our work.” Farrell confirmed the spells were still working.

  “Of course we did,” Kel said. “What happened was not of your doing.”

  “He cast a spell that announced his presence to Meglar, and you say it’s not of his doing?” Erstad said. “Who did it, then? Me? You?”

  “The Six,” Glendora said.

  “Exactly, Holy Mother.” Kel said to Erstad, “If you seek a source for your anger, look to the Six. They caused this to happen, not I.”

  Erstad shook his head. “You do not escape responsibility that easily. The boy practically worships you, and any encouragement you gave him only fueled his recklessness. My counsel he ignored, but had you advised him to wait, he would have heeded your words. Instead you helped him test his outlandish theories and tell our enemy where we are.”

  “Theories that worked.” Kel put his hand on Farrell’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Before you continue this useless debate, remember Khron ordered Farrell to free the dwarves. He was doing what he was chosen to do.”

  “Had you two waited, we could have . . . have . . .”

  “Have what, Master Erstad?” Kel raised an eyebrow. “Can you prevent the Six from doing something you don’t want the world to hear? I know I cannot.”

  “You keep saying it was Their doing.”

  “Because it was.” Kel clenched and unclenched his fingers around his staff. “This is the fruition of plans the Six set in motion before the first war ended. And it marks the beginning of the end of the current conflict.”

  “What has that to do with what happened?” Erstad’s anger lost its edge, but he didn’t let go. “Why would They need to shout to the world that someone just cast an incredibly complex and powerful spell?”

  “You aren’t seeing this the way They do. You do not want this conflict. They do. You wish to keep everyone safe. The Six and Neldin want Their Champions to fight.” No one spoke. “Farrell and I sealed this room as well as any wizard could. You know this because you checked our spells.”

  Farrell jumped into the silence that followed. “What exactly happened?”

  “The moment the first dwarf stepped through the Door, it felt like a binding dissolved, and the magic released screamed its presence to the four winds,” Glendora said. “I’ve not heard anything to rival its intensity in my lifetime.”

  “So Meglar knows we’re here.” Farrell’s voice trailed off. His father would come, and Farrell would need to confront him.

  “Not precisely,” Kel said. “He knows the dwarves have returned to Trellham; he knows they were freed by the Champion of the Six; and he knows where to find Trellham. What he does not know is who said Champion is or how you freed them.”

  “He’ll come,” Farrell said before he could stop himself. “Or at least he’ll send someone in his place.”

  Kel nodded. “I think the latter is more likely.”

  “Then we must prepare to meet this Meglar,” Trelb said. “The people of Trellham are not going to run away again.”

  Chapter Six

  Farrell wrapped the towel around his waist just as the door spell announced someone knocking. He looked down and then glanced at his robe on a hook—another recent change. Lisle had insisted they start wearing robes after their bath. Not just for the children, but for the now four staff members who helped her take care of the children and keep their apartment presentable. She’d been fond of saying she could have happy children or a clean room but not both. He was living proof of that; his rooms were always clean.

  “I’ll get it,” Lisle said, interrupting his daydreaming.

  As he took down the robe, he hated to admit it, but she was right—again. Covering up was infinitely better than answering the door half-naked. Farrell stopped to hear who had arrived.

  “Good morning, Captain Jagwin,” Lisle said.

  “The same to you, Lady Lisle.” The sound of armor clinking preceded the door being shut. “You’re looking well. Good to know the extra work hasn’t worn you down.”

  “It’s not for lack of trying,” she said. “Did you know that Farrell added two more rooms to the back of the children’s hallway?”

  “Two?”

  Lisle nodded. “Yes, two. A playroom and another room to hold all their toys.”

  “Is His Majesty in?”

  Farrell tied the front of his robe and left the bathing chamber.

  “No, Captain. Miceral left early this morning to meet Lord Horgon.”

  “I know. I assigned the detail to escort him. I meant the one that sleeps late.”

  “That one is right here, Captain.” Farrell stepped into the vestibule.

  Jagwin glanced at Farrell’s bare feet. “Isn’t it a bit early to be taking a bath?”

  “He’s already been to weapons practice,” Lisle said. “Every morning since he’s been back from Dumbarten, he’s up early and out the Door. It’s been wonderful.”

  “Every day?” Jagwin asked.

  Before he could stop her, Lisle nodded. “Yes, Captain. Usually he leaves once I arrive.”

  “Every day?” This time the question was directed at Farrell, who shrugged.

  “You assumed I was sleeping.”

  “I hate Doors.” Jagwin glared at him.

  Farrell laughed. “And I hate guards following me everywhere.”

  “Your Majesty.” Jagwin’s tone turned serious. “Have we interfered with anything you tried to do? Ever?”

  “Well… I mean…” Farrell avoided his guard’s gaze. “There was that time at Colograd…. I’m sure there were, but I can’t remember them right now.”

  “Exactly.” Jagwin nodded curtly. “When you remember, please do tell me.”

  Farrell sighed. “Was there something important you came to relay, or did you come to remind me I’m a terrible monarch to protect?”

  “I come bearing a message—” Farrell held up his hand.

  “Come. You can tell me while I get dressed.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he turned around.

  Jagwin’s boots pounded heavily. Farrell started to count. When he reached four, Lisle spoke.

  “Make sure he keeps his dirty boots out of the bathing chamber or the children’s rooms.”

  “Of course, Lisle.” When Jagwin laughed, Farrell said, “If you’re not careful, I’ll let her make you clean the floors. It is your boots, after all, making the mess.”

  “You invited . . . ordered me to attend you. I hardly think I should be punished for following orders.”

  Farrell didn’t bother pointing out that Jagwin almost never listened when told not to follow him. He unknotted the tie of his robe and walked to his closet. “What is this urgent message that brings you here?”

  “Father Aswick would like you and Miceral to come to the temple today to go over the ceremony.”

  “Again?” Farrell slid his robe off and heard Jagwin gasp softly. “I told you it was a big scar. Did you think I’d exaggerate just to impress Drendar or Thrinton?”

  “That hardly seemed right.”

  “Scars are as much a part of a wizard’s life as a soldier’s. Besides, i
t just looks bad. It’s completely healed.”

  “Still.” Jagwin held his hand out. When Farrell gave him a questioning look, he pointed to the robe. “I’ll put that away for you, Your Majesty.”

  Farrell almost declined, but it was a gesture of respect, so he handed it over. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “So what do I tell Father Aswick?” he asked, as he walked back to the bathing chamber.

  The thought of another discussion about the ceremony soured Farrell’s good mood. “Doesn’t that dwarf have anything better to do than pester us about the ceremony? You’d think the return of his people after so many years would require all his time.”

  “He’s delegated those tasks to the priests of old Trellham.” Jagwin returned with a comb and handed it to Farrell. “Your hair is a bit unruly today.”

  “Thank you.” Farrell set the comb down until he’d finished dressing.

  “Father Aswick believes his time is best spent planning the coronation ceremony.”

  “How delightful.” Farrell stepped into his soft leather riding britches and tossed his shirt on the bed. With his head in the closet searching for his boots, he said, “Tell the good father I do not believe either of us will be able to make it today.”

  “Oh?” Jagwin held his hands out for the boots.

  “Yes.” Pulling the shirt over his head, Farrell shook his “unruly” hair to get it out of the collar. “Remind him we’ve been over this every day since I returned from Dumbarten. We already know what to do.”

  “Yes, but most of those discussions were before Trellham’s dwarves returned. There is a bit more urgency attached to it now.”

  “We don’t agree.” The teeth of the comb caught on a tangle, so he tugged harder. “There is plenty of time. We’ll try to make time next week.”

  “You want me to tell His Holiness that?” Jagwin raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, please.” He reached for his boots, but Jagwin knelt to help. “You don’t need to do that. I can manage.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I think your efforts are better spent on your hair.”

  Farrell slid his foot in the offered boot and leaned into it. “It’s going to get messed up again during my ride.”