Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  Half the berths in the port were filled, mostly with warships. Merchant vessels clustered to the northwest and were tucked under the shadow of a cliff. Every space in the dry docks, however, was in use. Most of the slots held new ships in varying stages of construction, and a couple held vessels being repaired.

  Flashes of light drew Farrell’s attention to the top of the northern spur. Soldiers ran toward a battery of engines and catapults placed at regular intervals overlooking the approach to the harbor. More soldiers ran toward the shore.

  As they moved closer to the piers, Farrell noticed a thick stone wall just behind the warehouses that lined the port. The fortification ringed the small settlement and had erupted with activity.

  A small skiff glided from the shore. It passed between two naval vessels that buzzed with sailors and marines rushing onto the deck. Despite Kel’s assurance, Farrell readied several spells, just in case. He also maintained a strong shield, something he noted Kel had done as well.

  “Stop!” A tall, tan man in the front of the small vessel stood. “State your business!”

  “I am Kel, first king of Yar-del, and I bear a message from Queen Zenora to Admiral Norman. I seek permission to enter the city.”

  The man smiled and motioned to the men behind him. “Permission granted, Your Majesty.”

  Farrell followed Kel onto the small boat. He searched the vessel for a wizard but didn’t find one. Extending his scan, he found several on the warships to his left and more to the east. They might be expecting Kel, but they were prepared for a fight.

  “There are at least a dozen wizards watching us.”

  “As well there should be.”

  Despite Kel’s lack of concern, Farrell strengthened his shields and readied a spell with a wide dispersal. Though he trusted his grandfather, Farrell would be highly suspicious of someone claiming to be Kel with a message from Zenora. An officer with piping on his sleeve approached them. “We’ve been expecting you, Your Majesty.” The man bowed deeply. “I’m Captain Alger. It is an honor to meet you.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Kel gestured back to Farrell. “This is Farrell. He has many titles, but Prince of Haven will require the least amount of explanation.”

  Alger’s face showed no hint of suspicion when he turned and bowed to Farrell. “A pleasure, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you.” Farrell inclined his head politely. “My cousin, Markus, didn’t lie when he said the whole of Trag was one big fortress.”

  Alger raised an eyebrow for an instant and then nodded. “King Markus would be correct, but you can speak more of this with Admiral Norman and the council.”

  “Name-dropping, Grandson? You?” Kel sounded amused.

  “Trying to ensure we don’t have to fight our way out of here.”

  Kel didn’t respond. They followed Alger to a padded bench, and Kel sat as they turned the skiff around.

  Farrell moved toward the center of the boat so he could remain standing. Though a harbor hardly counted as the open sea, he’d always enjoyed the feel of a ship moving with the waves. The small boat was sound and the waters calm, so the roll beneath him was gentle. Still, as the skiff caught a breeze and moved toward shore, Farrell smiled at the familiar feel.

  A company of guards met them at the dock. More soldiers streamed through a gate toward the ship. Behind this group a small knot of wizards quickstepped their way. Farrell studied their hosts and allowed Kel to handle the pleasantries.

  Kel repeated his introductions to the newcomers—who included an admiral—and they followed the soldiers into the settlement. They turned three times before they had a clear path to the gate, something any invading force would need to face. The precise angles and lack of sight lines between what appeared to be simple warehouses spoke of the intense planning that went into building Trag.

  Walking under the thick stone walls set Farrell on edge. Why hadn’t his mother told him about Trag? While she couldn’t reveal who she was, “Cylinda” could have uncovered the information and passed it on to him. Even Markus hadn’t mentioned it when Farrell was in Dumbarten.

  “Farrell?” Kel’s mental call startled him.

  “Yes, Grandfather?”

  “You seem distracted. Is something amiss?”

  Faced with trying to explain his misgiving, Farrell questioned his doubts. “I’m unsettled by Trag’s existence. Not the island, but finding the entire Yar-del navy has been stationed here.”

  “What has you so troubled?”

  “This was . . . is a very well-thought-out community, and I only learned about it a few days ago. Ten years I ruled the remnants of Yar-del, and no one told me.”

  “And you suspect something sinister in that withholding of information?”

  “No, but I don’t understand why, and I think that’s why I’m not completely comfortable.”

  Kel didn’t respond immediately. Finally, Kel said, “I won’t tell you to ignore your instincts, but try to remain civil. You may one day rule these people, and you don’t want their first impression of you to be negative.”

  The respect Kel showed him bolstered Farrell’s confidence. “I won’t offend anyone, Grandfather.”

  “Good, but don’t call me ‘Grandfather.’ Farrell is a descendant of Hevnor, not Kel.”

  They stopped walking in front of a wide, plain, stone building. A large circular seal with the royal Yar-del crest sat over a pair of doors and was the only detail that distinguished this from the other structures nearby. The wizards and one officer led the way, and Farrell followed a pace in front of the guards who trailed them.

  They passed through a small waiting area devoid of furniture and into the main chamber. Desks and chairs were arrayed in a semicircle on an elevated platform around the room. In the center, several chairs sat by themselves, six feet below the dais. The officer and two wizards bowed again and assumed seats in the raised area.

  Kel flexed his fingers on his staff and the knuckles turned white. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. Farrell scanned the room and readied himself.

  Fourteen of the twenty-one seats above them were occupied. In the center of the first row, wearing the insignia of the grand admiral of the fleet, a white-haired man sat ramrod straight in his chair. Farrell recognized Admiral Norman from the war-planning meetings.

  “Do you really presume to have me and Prince Farrell of Haven stand in the well of your audience hall like common soldiers ordered to give their reports?” Kel’s anger caused Farrell to flinch. Before anyone could speak, he turned to Farrell. “We’re leaving. Queen Zenora can address these fools herself.”

  “Grand—Master Kel,” The change in his grandfather set Farrell back on his heels. “If we leave now, what will we do about a ship?”

  “We’ll get one from Markus.” He glared up at the stunned onlookers. “I may not stand on ceremony often, but I demand the same respect I’d have given you.”

  “Grand Master Kel.” Admiral Norman stood up. “Please, it was not our wish to offend. This is the only place large enough for us all to meet with you.”

  “They’re soldiers, not diplomats,” Farrell whispered to Kel. He turned to the group to suggest they step down when his gaze fell on someone seated to his far right. “Cameron?”

  Farrell noticed the admiral stripes on his sleeve. Color drained from the officer’s face, and he swallowed loudly. “Good to see you again, Your Highness. It’s been a few years.”

  Seeing his first love had distracted Farrell enough that he didn’t move when Kel tried to leave. That allowed the others on the dais time to step down and apologize again. Cameron stayed to the rear of the group while Kel answered questions about Zenora, himself, the war, and what he planned next. Despite his efforts to stay focused, twice Farrell needed prompting from his grandfather to answer a question.

  Kel calmed down after his initial outburst, and he chatted amiably with the excited wizards and admirals. It wasn’t until someone stepped almost in front of him that Farrell tore his at
tention from Cameron.

  “Admiral Klinda, good to see you again after all these years.” Farrell remembered her as one of his mother’s childhood friends. Her entire career, people had whispered behind her back that she owed her position to her friendship with the queen.

  “You as well, Your Highness.” She stared at him for a moment as if looking for something. “You’ve changed a bit in the past ten years. Filled out from the gangly boy who followed his master to meetings.”

  “Many things have changed since then.” He laughed at how much that understated things.

  “I didn’t know you were a son of the royal house of Dumbarten. We all thought you were Heminaltose’s apprentice.”

  Farrell had expected this question but paused before answering when Cameron inched closer. “Everyone assumed and no one asked.”

  “Very true.” Klinda nodded. “I trust Zenora knew.”

  “She knows about my lineage, yes.” He locked eyes with Cameron. “But she and my master kept it quiet because I attracted enough notice as Heminaltose’s student. If people knew I was also a prince, they’d have really tried to use me.”

  “That sounds like something they’d do.”

  Farrell smiled. “Yes, it does. The only reason it came out at all was someone needed to rule Haven. Being able to trace my ancestry to Hevnor gave me enough legitimacy that Sanduval sold it to everyone taking shelter at Haven.”

  “Sounds sensible.” Again she moved her head to look at him from different angles. “Did I hear correctly? Kel said you and your life partner are high kings of the dwarves?”

  “Yes.” He made eye contact with Cameron. “Khron decided Miceral and I needed to be Kings of Trellham, and that makes us high kings of all dwarves.”

  “Fascinating. Can you—?”

  “Klinda!” Admiral Norman called out.

  “Ah, sorry, Your Highness . . . Your Majesty. I must go see what the grand admiral needs.” She bowed deeper than necessary. “Give my regards to Zenora when you see her again.”

  He didn’t miss her use of when you see her and not if. The only thing she left out was to call Zenora his mother. Whatever she thought she knew, it would never be confirmed.

  As befit his status, Kel had everyone’s attention as he spoke. Farrell didn’t need to listen to know he was asking about obtaining use of a ship. Kel had been right to come to Trag. The Yar-del officers and wizards weren’t going to deny him anything.

  “Farrell?” Cameron stood to Farrell’s right, looking uncomfortable.

  “Cameron.” He tried to be polite, but it lasted less than a second. “I see you got what you wanted after all.”

  His ex-lover cringed at the comment. “It’s . . . it wasn’t like that.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Farrell shook his head. It had been a two-week thing, twelve years ago, yet seeing Cameron made it all feel like the day before last. “Sorry, that was rude. How are you?”

  Relaxing a bit, Cameron nodded. “I’m well, thank you. You’ve been busy, it seems.”

  “Not as busy as I’m going to be.” Farrell didn’t want to make idle talk with Cameron. He wanted answers to questions that no longer mattered but still rankled him.

  “I . . . The reason . . . My ship is the only one ready. If you don’t want me to command it, you might want to say something now.”

  Farrell snorted. “I wish I could say you flatter yourself that I care that much, but the truth is, seeing you here has upended me. I can honestly say I’m happy you survived, but I’m not glad to see you.”

  “I didn’t think you would, but I’m . . . What I mean is . . . I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I didn’t pursue you just to ask for help.”

  “If that was supposed to make me . . .” Farrell shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Neither of us are those kids anymore. Good day, Admiral.”

  “Farrell, wait.”

  “Why?” He spun around. “Are you upset that I’m not gushing to thank you for your apology?”

  “No . . . I mean, yes, I’m upset, but not because . . . What I mean is, I’m sorry you’re still hurt by what I did.”

  Farrell nearly blurted out that he wasn’t still upset by what happened, but he couldn’t say that was true. “Don’t be. Sorry, that is. It was a long time ago and a lot has changed. In the broad landscape, it was a silly little thing between two kids. I’ve done far worse things that I’ll never have the chance to apologize for. Though you wouldn’t know it by my reaction, I hardly think about it anymore.”

  “I don’t dwell on it overmuch either, but there are days when I’d see something that reminded me of you. We all assumed you’d died with the queen and Heminaltose.”

  “That was the idea.” Farrell smiled, feeling more relaxed. “Oddly enough, I don’t recall ever having a conversation about the fate of Yar-del’s navy.”

  It seemed a small thing, but the navy had been Yar-del’s strength for centuries. Kel had made it a priority from the founding of the kingdom. That no one had raised it around him had to be deliberate.

  “We left under cover of night,” Cameron said. “Queen Zenora started work on Trag years before the war officially began.”

  “So she told me.” Two days ago. “How is your family? I’m reasonably sure they’re not at Haven.”

  “My father and oldest brother died during the war. My mother and sister went to Dumbarten to live with her brother. My sister married a baron’s son in Oglithan. Kebrin, my other brother, made his way to Trag. He’s now an officer in the quartermaster’s office.”

  “I’m sorry about your father and brother. I met them . . .” His cheeks heated up. Cameron had taken Farrell to meet his family when they were in the capital. “Sorry, of course you knew that.”

  “Thank you.” Tears welled at the edges of his eyes, and he swallowed. “Briac’s death hurt. As a kid, I always looked up to him. He was the best of the three of us. I think my mother misses him more than she lets on.”

  “I’ll add it to the list of grievances,” Farrell muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Sorry. I said I’ll add it to the list of reasons I have to kill Meglar.” He tried to smile, but he couldn’t.

  “Kill Meglar?” Cameron looked over Farrell’s shoulder at Kel. “I thought—”

  “I’m the new Champion of the Six. Kel is training me.”

  “Oh.” The silence became awkward.

  “Admiral Cameron. Would you attend us?” Admiral Norman called.

  “I think he’s going to tell me he needs me to take you where you’re going. If you want to object . . .”

  “No. I’ll not interfere.” He couldn’t read Cameron’s face. “Unless you want me to object.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “It’s my crew.”

  Farrell laughed. “Understood.” He held out his arm, unsure he wanted to make contact with Cameron. By the way he hesitated, Cameron shared Farrell’s apprehension. Finally he clasped the offered hand, and they shook.

  He hadn’t put what happened with Cameron behind him, not yet, but this was a good start. Hopefully he hadn’t made a mistake not objecting.

  Cameron shouted orders to his crew from the helm, sending the sailors scurrying in all directions. The sleek warship, christened the Dauntless, knifed through the choppy waters. They were two days out of Trag Harbor. Farrell had spent most of his time discussing wizardry with Kel or sailing with Cameron. During his conversations with the admiral, Farrell realized he understood how to work on a ship, but very little of what it took to sail it. Wind patterns, ocean currents, the feel of the ship as it moved, how to catch the wind to provide maximum speed were just some of the topics Cameron tried to explain.

  Early on the first day, Kel complained of the spray on his face. “Now I remember why I fly or use a Door.”

  Noon on the third day from port was a fine day. Even Kel decided to come on deck to enjoy the weather. A stiff breeze propelled the ship under a clear blue sky. Sitting cross-legged, ho
vering above the deck, Farrell peered into the water, trying to find a link to Rastoria.

  “You seem unusually happy to be sailing,” Kel noted.

  “Aside from the gorgeous day, I always enjoyed the time Heminaltose assigned me to one of Mother’s warships as part of my training.” Farrell almost always had found someone to occupy his free time.

  Footsteps behind them intruded on his daydreaming. “Your Majesties?” Cameron said. “My helmsman inquired on our destination. ‘The middle of the Kessan Ocean is a bit too vague for him.”

  “That would be Farrell’s job.” Kel nodded to Admiral Cameron and winked at Farrell.

  Kel left, laughing to himself as he walked.

  “What was that about?” Cameron asked.

  “Proof that adolescence can linger for more than three thousand years.”

  “Huh?”

  “I never told Kel about our past, but he is perceptive enough to realize you and I have some history. It must amuse him to no end that he left me to deal with what he thinks is an awkward situation.”

  “Is it?”

  “Awkward? Not for me. As we’ve said, we were kids when that happened. But Kel is still a child at heart, I suppose.”

  “I’m sorry.” He watched Kel walk away. “I didn’t mean to start rumors.”

  “Kel might tease me, but he won’t spread a false rumor that might hurt Miceral.” The vessel rose and crashed into a wave, sending spray around the pair. “So, your helmsman wants a more precise heading?”

  If Cameron objected to the obvious attempt to change topics, it didn’t show. “He does. ‘Sail northwest’ hasn’t been a comfort to him.”

  “I understand.” He summoned the Eye and held it inside his pocket. “Let’s go see if we’re still on course.”

  “You don’t know?” Cameron’s surprise faded and he looked irked. “We’ve been sailing for three days. What were all those course changes you gave us?”

  “We’re not headed to a specific place. Not exactly. Kel and I are going to the bottom of the ocean. The where is a bit, dare I say, fluid?”

  “Um, no. That was bad.” Cameron rolled his eyes.