Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “In that case, Fracturn claims the eastern half to defend.” That he gave up without much of a fight meant Drendar didn’t expect to change their minds.

  “Then east it shall be,” Miceral said. “Aswick and a unit of Trellham soldiers are waiting for you in the central square. They can guide you to the most vulnerable sites.”

  Drendar gave them a wicked grin. “If you like, I can break the news to Thrinton that he and his troops will be guarding the western half of the city . . . the side where no army approaches.”

  Horgon snickered. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  “If you did, it would put your son in a bad spot.” Drendar smiled, bowed to Miceral and Farrell, and marched off with his guards in tow. The three listened to the dwarves leave and then a Muchari soldier ran up to them.

  “Lord Horgon, I bear news of the enemy.”

  Farrell probably had better information but kept it to himself. The unicorn and peregrine scouts were proud of their efforts. “What have you to tell us?” he asked.

  “Our scouts report that based on their speed and direction, the enemy will be visible in three hours or less.”

  “Thank you. Return to your post.” Horgon saluted the soldier and sent him on his way.

  “We should all make our final preparations,” Farrell said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go back to my quarters.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Farrell reached for the permanent Door he’d created nearby.

  “Wait for me.” Miceral moved too quickly for Farrell to close the Door. “That was rather peculiar even for you. What’s wrong?”

  Farrell closed the Door and took a deep breath. “I’m not comfortable letting the others fight my battles. And I’m not sure they are up to this fight. Only Cylinda has any recent experience using combat magic. Erstad and Wesfazial have been scholars and teachers for most of their lives. I can’t help thinking I’m sending them off to their deaths.”

  “Farrell . . .” Miceral reached for him, but Farrell waved him off.

  “I watched three people I loved go to battle when they knew they were going to die. I don’t want to . . . can’t live through that again.”

  He entered his workroom with Miceral a step behind him.

  “You can’t fight every battle or shield everyone from danger. There are limits to your abilities even if you want to deny them.” Miceral wrapped his arms around Farrell and pulled him closer to kiss the back of his neck. “Get whatever you came for so we can go back to Trellham to assist with the preparations.”

  Although Miceral could not see it, Farrell smiled. “I have a few things in here that could help them. If I can’t fight Tixel, I can at least help by giving them some weapons.”

  Farrell alternated between cabinets and tables, selecting items. Some he put in his pocket, others he put back. When he’d finished, he said, “I wish I had more to give them, but most of the things here they wouldn’t know how to use without instructions.”

  “We should get back.” Miceral held the workroom door open. “I want to be with Father when he gets updates on Tixel’s movements.”

  “We can go back, but I can give you more accurate intelligence than the scouts.” Farrell reached into his pocket to retrieve the Eye, but Miceral put a hand on his arm.

  “That’s not necessary. Focus on your tasks and let the scouts do theirs.”

  “If you say so, but my way is more accurate.”

  “And if you had nothing else to do, I’d insist you tell me, but for now we don’t need to use your time tracking an enemy whose destination we already know.”

  Farrell reactivated the Door they’d used to get to their apartments. “I truly don’t have much else to do. I’m under orders not to leave Trellham.”

  “Not that you’ll obey them, I’m sure.” Miceral stepped through the portal.

  “Not entirely, no,” he said as he closed the Door. “Making sure the scouts don’t miss anything helps me feel useful.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand.” Miceral pulled Farrell back to avoid being trampled by a company of dwarves running down the corridor. “If Tixel is as powerful as the others say, why does he allow them to track his movements? Can’t he strike them from the sky?”

  “First, he’d open himself to counterattacks if he did. Our wizards are hoping he tries that, though I doubt he will. What would be the point? We know he’s coming; he knows we know he’s coming.”

  “True.”

  “But I think the real reason he doesn’t is he wants us to know he’s coming and coming fast. As if it will put the fear of Neldin in us.”

  “Does it? Scare you, I mean?”

  “No. But it does concern me. By all accounts Tixel is a coward. Meglar may have threatened him into leading the attack, but he eluded Heminaltose and Sanduval for centuries. He could’ve run off, and it’s unlikely Meglar would have the time to hunt him down.”

  “Maybe he thinks Meglar will eventually find him.”

  “Perhaps, or maybe he and Meglar have something planned, and this isn’t a suicide mission.”

  Horgon noticed them and walked over. He shifted his gaze from one to the other. “Too bad you’ve got the only two sets of invincible armor. If we could get sets for our entire army, we’d be unstoppable.”

  “We already are.” Farrell sent a flare of energy through his shield.

  “Confidence is a good thing, but not in overly large doses.”

  Glendora stood near the mouth of the corridor.

  “Well said, Mother.” Horgon invited her to join them.

  “I came to inform you that Nerti assigned three unicorns to carry Erstad, Wesfazial, and Cylinda.”

  “Good news.” Not that Farrell doubted Nerti could find volunteers, but Tixel’s mounts would likely spook any normal horse.

  Glendora said, “You may not be as happy to hear I’ve been asked to be your chaperone. The others felt you were more likely to keep your word if you knew someone was watching.”

  “By ‘others’ you mean my former mentors.” He’d planned to keep his word, so having someone watch him shouldn’t have irked him. But it did.

  “Actually,” Horgon said, “Kel, Father Aswick, and I all agreed with them.”

  “If everyone thinks this is so dangerous, shouldn’t I be there to help?” He searched their faces for some recognition of the serious danger they’d put his friends in. “At a minimum I should be with them.”

  Glendora shook her head. “You are going to have to trust that this is the correct course of action. Father Aswick and I prayed for guidance, and we are both confident this is what the Six want.”

  He grew tired of them invoking the will of the Six every time they disagreed with him. “I make no promises that if they get into serious trouble, I will remain apart. As Chosen and Champion of the Six, I am confident that is what They would want.”

  Rather than wait for her to argue, he nodded and walked toward the front gates. He recognized Miceral’s footsteps behind him and slowed his pace.

  “They’re not trying to punish you,” Miceral said when he caught up.

  “They’re also not as skilled as I am.” He realized how that sounded, but it was true. “If something unexpected happens, I’m the best suited to deal with it. Erstad would want to study it for days, Wesfazial would insult it, and Cylinda would defer to her friends.”

  “Promise me you will at least let them try before you break your word?”

  “My promise was that I’d go help them if I felt it was needed, and you can trust I will keep to that.”

  They completed the walk to the gate in silence. When they arrived, thousands of soldiers were organizing into formation. Nerti and Klissmor stood off to the side, waiting for them to arrive.

  “You seem unusually pensive, wizard. What troubles you?” Nerti asked when he greeted her.

  “I can’t shake the feeling of dread at having the others challenging Tixel.” He watched as Miceral mounted Klissmor, and he
climbed on Nerti’s back. “Everyone knows it’s a trap and still they walk into it.”

  “It would still be a trap if you were with them.”

  He had no counter to the truth. Seated on her back, he spotted his mentors. “Can you take me to Erstad and the others, please?”

  Nerti nodded and nudged her way out the gate. In the distance he saw the dust kicked up by the vanguard of Meglar’s army.

  “They’re farther away than you think,” Miceral said as he moved next to Farrell. “The cloud is much bigger than it looks.”

  “Still. They’ll be here soon enough.” Cylinda looked their way, and he nodded. “Let’s go before they leave. I want to give them the weapons.”

  The three looked ready to bolt as he approached. Farrell was about to ask Nerti to tell the unicorns to remain still when Erstad waved them over.

  “We need to go if we hope to be in position to lure Tixel off,” Erstad said as if Farrell didn’t understand the plan he’d helped devise. “Remember to stay out of this and to guard the troops.”

  Now Farrell understood why they’d waited. Part of him knew his mentor and the others felt strongly about him keeping out of the fight, but he still bristled.

  “A moment, please.” Farrell pulled the weapons from his pocket. “I thought these would help. I only brought ones you helped me make, so you’ll recognize them.”

  After he doled out the weapons, he realized how little they would help. “It is not much, but it was all I could gather on such short notice. I expect it can’t hurt if you’re in a bind.”

  “Thank you, lad.” Erstad forced a smile. “Things have come full circle when you’re giving us weapons to use in battle.”

  “Oh!” Farrell dug into his pocket again and pulled out the short staves he’d created on the way to Dumbarten. “I almost forgot. I refilled them over the ocean yesterday afternoon. Hopefully you won’t run out of energy with these in your possession.”

  “Stop fretting like an old hen,” Wesfazial said. “We were fighting wizard’s duels long before you were born. Just because you’re seeing us off doesn’t mean you get to treat us like we treated you.”

  Everyone except Farrell laughed. He knew better than anyone what they were about to face. “Be careful.”

  He made eye contact with each of them, willing them to listen to his words. Erstad nodded, Wesfazial winked, and Cylinda barely held his gaze long enough to give him a tiny nod.

  The unicorns bore his friends from the edge of the mountain, and Farrell turned so he couldn’t watch them. “For reasons I can’t explain, this feels wrong. I wish I could put a name to the wrong I sense.”

  “Remember, let those three deal with Tixel,” Miceral said. “Your job is to make sure there are no hidden surprises for the rest of us.”

  “I will be incredibly bored, I can assure you.” He wondered if the others felt this way when it was their job. “The combat wizards assigned to each unit are more than a match for all but the most powerful of attacks. Should Meglar use his power to assail us this far away, I will be able to detect it far enough in advance to turn it aside.”

  “Just don’t forget that you normally rely on those three to handle that job. They will be otherwise occupied today, and our troops will be counting on you to fill their role.”

  Farrell’s anger and the words he meant to express it dissolved when he saw his partner’s face. “You don’t need to be scared for me. I’ll be fine.”

  “Their warning is real. Meglar is not one to send small suicide forces to test his enemies; he uses a sledgehammer when he wants to conquer them. He wants you, even if he doesn’t know ‘you’ is Farrell. You’re not invincible, and you can’t improvise your way out of everything.”

  Nerti and Klissmor bobbed their heads, and Farrell knew he was outnumbered. “I’m agreeing with you, but is the answer to sacrifice my friends to save me?”

  “They are not going to their death, Little One.” The conviction in Nerti’s voice almost convinced him. Almost. “They are stronger than you think. I’ve known many wizards in my time, and those three are among the wisest.”

  “And they are not exactly novices,” Klissmor added. “They are master wizards even if they are not grand masters.”

  “I don’t wish to dispute your words, but my mother and Master Heminaltose were both grand master wizards. They had the full might of Yar-del behind them, and they died. In hindsight I could have saved them.” He stared at the growing cloud bearing down on them. “The fear in my heart is that I’ll be saying the same about those three. I know I can save them, but I’m being held back—again.”

  No one responded, and when he grew tired of straining to see what could not be seen, he asked Nerti to take him back to the gate.

  Farrell dismounted and walked over to Klissmor. Miceral jumped down, and they moved away to give Nerti and Klissmor the same privacy they sought. When they were mostly alone, he pulled Miceral close. Farrell held on longer than he intended. Nothing about this day felt right, and he’d been in plenty of fights to compare it to.

  “Don’t get hurt, Ral,” he whispered in his partner’s ear. “I can’t . . . I won’t lose you.”

  “You won’t lose me, Farrell. I love you too much to leave you.” He cupped Farrell’s face and kissed him hard. “But given your history of crazy acts, I’m the one who has to worry.”

  “Says the Muchari who left Northhelm with barely more than a company to help me.”

  “Says the silly little wizard who charged Meglar’s army with just a unicorn.”

  “I had it under control. You, on the other hand . . .” He brought their lips together again.

  “I needed a big, strong, amazingly handsome, mighty wizard to haul my butt from danger.”

  Farrell let his hand stray down. “It was totally worth hauling away.” He gave a brief squeeze and stepped back.

  They kissed again, ignoring the soldiers walking past. Though they didn’t want to, they moved apart. “I love you, Miceral.”

  “And I love you. Stay safe.” He leapt onto Klissmor and looked back once before riding to the head of the force.

  “Don’t worry about him, my lord. Miceral is the finest fighter in the world.”

  A Muchari soldier in full armor stood next to Farrell. The man’s right arm ended just below his elbow. Farrell realized he was staring and looked up into the man’s waiting gaze. “I lost this at Respital, but old soldiers die hard. I’m with the medical unit now. My legs are good, and even without my right hand, I can help carry the wounded from the field.”

  An odd sling dangled below the stump. “You’re an inspiration to us all . . .”

  “Theus, my lord.”

  “Call me Farrell, please.”

  He held out his left arm, and Farrell clasped it tight. “As you say.”

  Together they watched the army move into battle position. Farrell wondered at the resolve that pushed someone like Theus to find another way to serve when the easy way was lost.

  “Ah, Theus, there you are,” a female voice said. They both turned and the woman stopped short. She wore basic armor with a green healer’s sash over her left shoulder. Farrell glanced at Theus and saw a similar strip of cloth he’d missed at first. “My apologies, my lord.”

  “No, please. You are welcome.”

  “My— Farrell, this is my life partner, Agriana.”

  She glanced at her spouse before she bowed. “My lord.”

  “Farrell, please.” He held out his hand and waited for her to accept.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  “No, I can leave if you like.”

  “Nothing like that, my lord. I just wanted to tell Theus that our son Bryus is with the medics inside the mountain. He insisted he be allowed to help.” She and Theus exchanged fond smiles. “All of twelve, and he thinks he can storm the walls of Kentrish by himself.”

  “He sounds like he got that from his parents.” He smiled as Agriana moved around her partner so she could take her husb
and’s remaining hand. “Isn’t medical duty dangerous work for—”

  “For a woman?” she asked defiantly.

  He shook his head. “I was going to say ‘a mother.’ After losing mine in battle, I worry for all children whose mothers are in harm’s way.”

  “I’m sorry.” She exchanged a look with Theus. “I didn’t mean to bring up an old wound.”

  “You of all people have nothing to be sorry for. You remind me yet again why we will defeat Meglar.” He smiled, and for the first time that day, he didn’t need to force it.

  “If you will excuse us, we must find our units,” Theus said. They embraced and kissed with the same indifference to those around them as he and Miceral had moments before.

  Farrell watched them leave before turning his attention back to Meglar’s force. Augmenting his sight, he saw the chariot with its demonic mounts now led the charge. He swept the enemy for signs of magic, but other than standard battle shielding, he found nothing of note. With his wizard’s sight engaged, he saw Tixel’s aura. As the others had said it would, it marked him as a grand master wizard.

  Magic struck the chariot, and the beasts swerved to their right. Several hundred yards ahead of the carriage, three unicorns sprinted away. Erstad pulled out one of the weapons Farrell had given him, a large V-shaped piece of polished wood, turned to his right, and flicked his wrist. The flat wooden weapon sped in wobbly fashion toward Tixel. It missed to the left, but Farrell smiled as it slowed, twisted, and headed back toward Erstad.

  Unaware the projectile had been designed to miss, Tixel was caught by surprise when the weapon sank into the back of his driver. A second later it exploded, splattering the wizard, his chariot, and the mounts in blood and gore.

  Tixel screamed and aimed his staff at the trio. Black energy erupted from the orb and sizzled toward Farrell’s friends. Wesfazial flung his arms wide, and a sheet of blue energy covered the retreating wizards. Tixel’s spell splashed against the wall, and Tixel fired again to dispel Wesfazial’s energy before he crashed into it.

  The distance between the two sides had been increasing before he paused to counter the spell. Now the three wizards leaned forward, and the unicorns added to their lead. Once he’d cleared the path, Tixel took the reins and was now driving his war machine after his tormentors.