Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Yes, but . . .” He bowed deeply. “It is an honor, Your Majesty.”

  Kel returned the show of respect. “Just Kel. Zenora is the ruler of Yar-del.”

  Christian’s eyes opened wider. “I’d heard that she and Heminaltose are still alive.”

  “All will be explained in due time, Your Majesty.” Kel smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet a descendant of Horan. He was a member of my court before he went west to found Honal. A wise and just man. From what Farrell tells me of Kerstand, Horan would be pleased.”

  Heldin hovered behind Farrell. Rather than continue the sniping, he included Pelipan’s king.

  “Grand Master Kel.” Farrell stepped back a bit more. “King Heldin of Pelipan.”

  Kel gave Heldin a cool stare. “Hello.”

  “Your Majesty.” Heldin’s bow was barely enough. “It is an honor to meet you. I’m told our kingdom also descended from Yar-del’s line.”

  “That is a mistake. Wyrick was a minor noble, of questionable character, who was bright enough to realize he had no future in Yar-del. History failed to capture his true character, but I remember.”

  Blood rushed to Heldin’s face at this affront to his ancestor. When his forearms tensed, Kel raised an eyebrow.

  “Did you wish to comment, Your Majesty?” Kel shifted his staff and tilted his head.

  Heldin reacted like he’d been doused in ice water. He continued to glare but said nothing. At least Heldin was bright enough to realize he had no future if he antagonized Yar-del’s founder.

  Farrell used the silence to end the awkward exchange. “Come, let us be seated. Then we can discuss why we are all here.”

  Wilhelm and Farrell had arranged seating and strategically placed people around a large round table. Servants walked about offering ale, wine, or water. Food had been set on tables, but this was not a dinner, formal or otherwise.

  Miceral took a sip of wine. “This will almost certainly cost us a fair chunk of the gold we received as payment for your shield.”

  “As I learned in my dealings with you, there is a price to pay for getting something unique and desirable.”

  “Is the message of this meeting that your services are for sale?” Heldin asked.

  Farrell glanced at his mother and noticed her jaw tighten. Heminaltose patted her arm. Since the day the other kingdoms refused to aid Yar-del—or Endor—Farrell harbored a resentment toward them that bordered on hatred. His mother’s return did little to blunt his anger. Kerstand’s friendship made it easier to forgive Christian, but Heldin had no one to plead his case.

  Farrell took a deep breath. “The negotiation for the shielding was part of a greater trade agreement between our two nations,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “Belsport’s needs, however, were not protection from Meglar, but from anyone he might send to attack Belsport.”

  “That sounds like a fancy way of saying if we want it, we’ll have to pay dearly.” Heldin looked to Christian for support, but his neighbor avoided his gaze.

  Drendar shifted in his seat. “Have a care how you speak to my brother, the king of Trellham. Pelipan doesn’t need the united dwarf nations as an enemy, too.”

  Heldin slammed his palms onto the table and stood. “Enough! I refuse to be continually insulted.”

  Drendar dropped his hand to his side, as did Thrinton. Rothdin, sitting behind Farrell, clicked his beak loudly, and even Markus had a fire in his eyes.

  “Everyone please calm down,” Wilhelm said between sips of his wine. He waited until the tension abated somewhat before he stood. “King Drendar did not insult you, Heldin. He merely stated that your treatment of King Farrell, who in times of war is Drendar’s commander, bordered on disrespectful. It was a warning, not an insult.”

  “And I shall give you another warning.” Rothdin rose to his full height. “Farrell is my adopted son and Nerti’s chosen rider. Continue to provoke him and you will make both of us your enemy as well.”

  “Perhaps, Farrell,” Wilhelm continued to speak as if he were discussing the weather, “if you tell everyone why they are here, it would soothe some of the tension.”

  “A good idea.” He waited for Heldin to sit before he turned to Wilhelm. “Would you dismiss the servants and allow me to seal the room?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Once the servants had left and he’d sealed the room, Farrell emptied his water cup. He surveyed the expectant faces. Many knew most of what was going to be said, but they’d need to listen for the benefit of those who didn’t. Wilhelm deliberately set those who knew the least—Bendict, Darg, Christian, and Heldin—opposite Farrell. They were also the most likely to be hostile when they’d heard everything.

  “Things will be said in this room that some of you know and some do not. The time for secrecy, however, is almost at an end, given the recent events involving Trellham. We now know, and Meglar knows as well, that he did not kill Zenora, Heminaltose, and Sanduval.” He pointed to his mother and former teachers. Since this information had been shared, he didn’t dwell on it. “We’ve also learned that Grand Master Kel is still alive and well.”

  Again nothing new, but he wanted people to reflect on how many powerful wizards thought to be gone were still in the fight.

  “In the years that followed Sanduval’s supposed death, I completed the work we hope will defeat Meglar. For those who worried if I did it correctly, rest comfortably knowing my former masters oversaw every step of the work.”

  There was a smattering of laughter, and Farrell waited for it to die down before he continued. “After the fall of Endor and Yar-del, Clement and I regrouped and planned. I know some of you wonder why we never committed our full might in defending Respital and Arvendia, and the answer is, Honorus forbade it.”

  “How convenient,” Heldin muttered. In the still room, his voice carried well enough for Farrell to hear. From the expression on his mother’s face, she heard it, too.

  “More like inconvenient.” Farrell met his stare. “I owed Meglar for killing my masters. But I thought I was the last grand master on Ardus, so I understood the command. Instead, I—we—worked steadily on the two tasks the Six left for me to complete. One was the creation of a weapon, and the other was to collect and store more energy than Meglar. We’ve finished the first and believe we’ve achieved the second. Unfortunately, the weapon isn’t portable. Meglar will need to come to me for us to use it on him.”

  He paused for questions and was surprised no one asked about the weapon. When the silence persisted, he moved on. “Today marks a turning point in the war. Meglar’s carefully laid-out strategy has been upended and—”

  “Why?” Heldin asked. “Because some people we thought were dead aren’t? According to you, they’ve never left the fight, so what’s changed?”

  “Be quiet, Heldin,” Christian said. “It does no good being belligerent. If you have a question, ask it, but leave off the negative comments.”

  Farrell nodded his thanks to Christian. “What changed is Meglar is aware he did not kill Sanduval, Heminaltose, or Zenora as he believed.”

  “Why have them fake their deaths?” Alicia asked. “Wouldn’t it have been more prudent to band together and confront Meglar the next time he attacked?”

  “No.” Heminaltose stood up. “Meglar held such a power advantage, we could not have defeated him at the time. By letting him, and the world, think we’d died, Meglar did not come looking for us and gave us the time to match his power.”

  “We’ve also renewed old alliances,” Farrell motioned toward Markus, “and made new ones.” He said to Randgar, “Even more importantly, we have the benefit of Kel’s knowledge and experience.”

  Farrell left out the Gifts of the Gods. Everything else was something Meglar could learn himself. That Farrell had six of the seven Gifts would be difficult to dig up.

  “Anyone can claim to be Heminaltose returned to life. Or Sanduval, Zenora, or even Kel.” Heldin shook his head. “Other than the word of the alleged human king of the dwarve
s, what other proof do you have they are who they say?”

  “You can look me in the eye and say that?” Zenora glared down the table.

  Farrell ignored the exchange and walked over to the door. If Heldin expected to shout down Farrell like he did his vassals, he’d misplayed his hand. He unsealed the room and swung open the door. “You may go now, Heldin. Your presence has gone beyond annoyance and become a distraction. Go back to Pelipan and await its destruction.”

  Heldin’s face turned bright red as he pushed back his chair and stood. At first, he clenched his fists. After a deep breath, he found his voice. “How dare you! I am the king of Pelipan. No one orders me about. Do you hear me? No one.”

  Farrell stood by the open door and looked at the irate man. Whether this would prove the correct approach he didn’t know, but he wasn’t letting Heldin dictate anything. Since no one told him to calm down, Farrell continued. “Leave now. I’m rescinding your invitation to join us.”

  His glare never left Heldin as the older man circled the table and came toward him. Miceral moved and drew Farrell’s attention for an instant, but Horgon stopped his son with a hand on his arm.

  Although he barely moved, a trained eye would know Farrell readied himself for a fight. Relaxed but alert, he altered his stance slightly to better distribute his weight should he need to move quickly.

  Heldin strode up to him and swung his hand at Farrell’s face. Months of hand-to-hand training with Miceral kicked in, and Farrell easily deflected the blow. This only served to enrage Heldin further. The second attack met with similar result, only this time after Farrell parried the punch, his right arm shot out. Striking with the heel of his palm, Farrell connected with Heldin’s breastplate. A loud ringing filled the room, and Heldin staggered back several paces. Farrell glanced at where he’d struck and smiled. “There’s a dent in your armor.”

  Heldin looked down and ran his fingers over the hollow. He screamed and drew a dagger from his belt before he rushed Farrell again.

  Tired of the game, Farrell stepped left to avoid the lunge. He pivoted to his right as Heldin rushed by and chopped with his left hand. The knife clanked loudly on the stone. Farrell grabbed Heldin by the throat and shoved him against the wall.

  “King or not, an assault on the life of the king of Trellham and Lord of Haven has but one sentence. Death,” Farrell hissed. “You’re lucky we’re in Belsport, or else I’d execute the sentence immediately and display the body as a warning.”

  Farrell squeezed tighter until Heldin’s eyes bulged.

  “Farrell, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you released King Heldin so I may speak with him.” Casually, as if nothing important were happening, Wilhelm put his goblet down and stood.

  Farrell released his grip as Wilhelm made his way to the door. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

  Wilhelm moved slowly toward the still-shaking Heldin. “As for you, Lord Heldin, Farrell is my friend and close ally. He and his life partner command the largest standing army on this continent other than Meglar’s. An army I need on my side. Kings, queens, parents, and friends surround him, all of whom would side with him in a dispute. Even more troubling is the fact he is the Chosen of Arritisa, patron Goddess of Belsport, which makes him the Champion of Belsport and its people. Thus, as you can imagine, your unprovoked attack leaves me in a most awkward position.”

  Heldin bristled. “So you endorse treating visiting monarchs to a constant stream of insults?”

  Wilhelm stopped a few feet from Heldin. “Farrell was generous to spare your life. I’m certain I won’t be so forgiving should you attack me.”

  Wilhelm was deceptively dangerous. A brilliant negotiator, he understood the need to be a skilled warrior as well. Farrell had no doubt Wilhelm would have been much harder to subdue than Heldin.

  “Meglar’s threat is stressful to those of us tasked with protecting our people. No one is immune. Not you or I and not Farrell, either.” Wilhelm motioned for Heldin to come toward him. Farrell noted a caged-animal expression that almost made him feel sorry for Heldin. “However, you squander an opportunity to make allies with those who want to defeat Meglar as much as you. Seated here are some of the most powerful wizards ever to grace our world. Others command forces we need: the king of Dumbarten and its legendary might; the kings of all three dwarf nations; the favored servants of Honorus and Lenore; the king of fabled Ze’arder; and your neighbors and one-time allies. There is power, wisdom, and strength assembled here, all to defeat Meglar.”

  When Heldin moved off the wall, Wilhelm put an arm around his shoulder and led him slowly around the table. “Lord Farrell did nothing to warrant your attacks, verbal or physical. If you doubt my judgment, ask Lenore’s priestess, or your neighbor and ally Christian, or even my children who have no stake in your quarrel with Farrell.” They approached Heldin’s seat, but Wilhelm walked past it.

  “Under the laws of Belsport, your actions leave me two choices, neither of them pleasant—death by impalement or life as an oarsman on a prison galley.” Heldin flinched and swallowed hard. “But then, this is not an ordinary situation, is it?”

  They rounded the table and walked toward Farrell. “Are you willing to let me decide this matter?”

  “As you said, you are my friend and ally. I trust your decision will be the appropriate one.”

  “And you will not harbor any lingering resentment no matter what I chose to do?” Wilhelm was asking questions so Heldin would hear the answers from his lips.

  “When your sentence is carried out, whatever it may be, I will consider this incident over.”

  “Excellent.” Heldin did not look as pleased as Wilhelm. “King Heldin, as I said, your actions, while not excusable, can be explained by the terrible stress Meglar has put on all of us. Any sentence that would damage future relationships between you and me or you and Haven would be ill-considered, to say the least. As such, it is my decision that your punishment shall be to apologize to Farrell for your attack and ask his permission to remain at this meeting. Execution of sentence is to be immediate.”

  Wilhelm’s countenance made it clear he was deadly serious. When Heldin looked at him, Farrell made sure he kept his expression as neutral as possible. Scanning the faces in the room, Heldin found no allies.

  “Lord Farrell.” Heldin bowed his head. “My actions toward you have been inexcusable. I deeply regret attacking your person and pray for your forgiveness and the opportunity to remain.”

  “Consider it forgotten.” Farrell maintained his steely gaze and waited for Heldin to look up. The relief on the older man’s face faded when he locked eyes with Farrell. “But remember this. I used no magic to defend myself. Should you ever raise a hand toward me in anger again, I will strike you dead with a thought.” He closed the door with a wave of his hand.

  Heldin nodded once, and Wilhelm clapped them both on the shoulder. “Excellent. Let us move on with our agenda. However, if no one else objects, I would like a drink before we continue.”

  Amid a chorus of affirmative responses, Wilhelm moved to the sideboard. Farrell checked on the unicorns and peregrines while the others went to get new drinks. He lingered a moment after fetching them some fresh water, intending to speak to them, when Markus appeared at his side with Randgar in tow.

  “Be wary of Heldin, cousin,” Markus said. “I’ve seen his ilk before.”

  “My thoughts as well,” Randgar added. “Right now he is alone and unsupported. You can be certain he will rethink his position once he’s back in Pelipan.”

  “Thank you for your concerns.” Farrell grabbed each man’s arm and pulled him closer. “I concur with your assessment, but don’t forget, I have a couple of gifts that will allow me to keep an eye and an ear on him, no matter where he is.”

  Markus grinned. “So you recovered Lenore’s Gift?”

  “Indeed. I needed it to free the dwarves.” He shrugged. “But now that I have completed Khron’s task, I hope Lenore will not be miffed if I use it to kee
p tabs on our somewhat excitable friend from Pelipan.”

  Wilhelm joined Farrell. His serious expression made Farrell pause. “A word of advice, if I may.”

  “Of course.”

  “Heldin is a survivor. I’ve seen his type before. He’s conciliatory at the moment, but once he returns home, he’ll no doubt rethink how much you wronged him. Perhaps he’ll lump me in with you as having offended him, but I’m too far away for him to bother with right now. In either case, be wary of him.”

  “Markus and Randgar just gave me the same advice,” Farrell said. “Is it your counsel I eliminate him first to avoid any future problems?”

  “That’s a difficult question.” Wilhelm’s serious response to Farrell’s half-joking one indicated how much Wilhelm distrusted Heldin. “I’d say not at present, but be prepared to take preemptive action against him if it becomes needed.”

  Farrell nodded. For Wilhelm to suggest it might be necessary to kill Heldin concerned him. To divert himself from such thoughts, he scanned the room. Alicia and Jursten had taken advantage of the time to talk alone.

  “I think you may soon have to plan a union ceremony for your daughter.”

  “It looks that way, doesn’t it?” Wilhelm’s expression was unreadable. “Before I met you, I’d have rejected the idea, given his status as prince-in-exile. But, if we prevail, he’ll regain his kingdom, which makes him more than acceptable politically. If we lose, she and I will likely join him in being without a home, and their status will be the same. Either way, if it’s her desire to join with him, they’ll have my blessing.”

  “You almost seem sorry to do that, my friend,” Farrell said. “Jursten is a close friend of mine. He is honorable, smart, and will treat her like an equal, not a fixture.”

  Wilhelm laughed. “This has nothing to do with my questioning her choice. I don’t show this to many, but I shall miss her terribly when she joins, something these last few months of separation have made clear to me. Knowing she will be happy, however, eases the only concern I had for her.”