Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Your people will be busy for decades replacing what you lost,” Kel said. “For most families, much of what they use on a daily basis is accumulated over a lifetime, then given to their children to use when they are gone. You must supply all your people with an entire household worth of goods all at once.”

  “The dwarves have been most generous.” Randgar nodded toward Farrell. “Even with the need to restore Trellham, they have treated us like long-lost dwarves. When I tried to repay them, they refused. They said the scrap metal they took from the dead after the battle was more than enough payment. It wasn’t worth a tenth of what they’ve given us so far.”

  “Dwarves have an unfair reputation for being greedy,” Kel said. “Truth is, while they have accumulated great stores of wealth, they are far more generous to those in need than their human counterparts. You are their friend, and you have a need they can help fill. There is nothing else to discuss.”

  “That closely mirrors what Drendar told me when I tried to argue.”

  “Despite our difficult start, I have come to treasure that old dwarf.” Farrell smiled, trying to imagine how Drendar would have brushed off Randgar’s arguments. “There is no truer friend one could have.”

  A soldier in the temple colors ran up before the amelt could reply.

  “Your Majesty.” He bowed to Randgar. “The holy mother requests your guests return to the temple.”

  Their guide escorted Farrell and Kel deep inside the temple. Randgar promised to join them for dinner, but he had some matters to attend to first. They were led to another ornately furnished room.

  The room was large, easily half the size of Farrell’s entire suite. To the right, at the far end, a table had been set. It looked big enough for dozens, but only a few places had dishes. The rest of the space was open except for an alcove just before the table, where a small group of chairs sat before a floor-to-ceiling window.

  Farrell was about to suggest they go sit, when a side door opened and Jolella entered. A form-fitting silk dress, gathered over her left shoulder, had replaced the simple robe she normally wore. Dozens of jewel-encrusted pins held her hair in an intricate design, one that highlighted her facial features. She wore a diamond pendant, gold and silver wrist bangles, several ankle chains, and a wide gold belt.

  Jolella stopped walking after just a few steps. “You two look as if the Blessed Mother herself just walked in.”

  “Forgive me, Jolella,” Farrell said, regaining his composure. “I’ve never seen you dress like this.”

  She glanced down and shook her head. “Oh. My apologies, I forgot to change.”

  “Change?” Farrell looked at Kel, who rolled his eyes.

  “That is how the high priestess of Seritia is supposed to dress for official occasions,” he said.

  “Sorry to have surprised you, Chosen,” she said. “As Kel said, these are my formal robes. My visit to Father Lingum required me to wear robes of office.”

  “Why do you need to wear formal attire to see the head of another temple?” Farrell asked.

  “Father Lingum is a fastidious sort of man.” She made a face and motioned for them to join her in the sitting area. “Were I to show up dressed any other way, he would lecture me on the need to maintain appearances for the common people.”

  Kel laughed. “Sounds as if you’ve received that lecture before.”

  “Several times, to be exact.” Her answer lacked any hint of humor. “He is also not inclined to help you speak to Falcron.”

  “Did he say why not?” Farrell kept his disappointment from his tone.

  “He kept mumbling that it wasn’t proper and that he needed to follow protocols.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I managed to convince him to at least meet you.”

  “Your power of persuasion is a credit to your temple,” Kel said.

  Jolella shook her head. “My father deserves the credit. He taught me to haggle in the markets. Find something the other person desires, and you can buy anything you want.”

  “What did you have that he desired enough to speak to me?” Farrell didn’t know if he wanted to hear the answer.

  “Not what I have, but what you have, Farrell.” She picked up a bottle of wine and poured some into three crystal goblets. “He changed his mind when I told him you possessed the Mind of Falcron. As you know, it has not been seen in Bowient in over three thousand years.” She handed them each a drink before taking one for herself. “Though it’s unseemly of me to say this, I would advise not displaying the Mind around Father Lingum. In fact, I’d not bring it along if you don’t have to.”

  Farrell raised both eyebrows. “That’s strange advice to give someone about to pay a visit to the head of Falcron’s temple.”

  “I’m aware of how unusual my words must sound.” She paused. “However, when I mentioned you had Falcron’s Gift, Lingum’s face lit up, and his body language changed. To me it appeared as if he were plotting something when he told me he would see you.”

  “Could it be his desire to see something so important to his temple?” Farrell didn’t think that to be true but wanted to hear her thoughts.

  “Perhaps, but I doubt it.” She took another sip. “I can’t say why, but I felt there was more than just wanting to see Falcron’s Gift.”

  “Soon after I obtained the Eye, Father Gedrin engaged me in a discussion about the proper home of Honorus’s Gift.” Farrell snorted. “He was of the opinion the Eye belonged to the temple and by extension him and his successor high priests thereafter.”

  “An opinion he will find little support for,” Kel said.

  “It’s odd.” Farrell looked at Jolella. “If you asked, I’d give you the Heart of Seritia without question. Just as I’d give the Arm to Father Aswick. But give the Eye to Father Gedrin? No.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but the Gifts are where the Six want them to be.” She stood and set her cup down. “Please excuse me. Before Randgar arrives, I would like to change into something more comfortable.”

  Dinner came and went, and Farrell didn’t recall much of the evening. Lost in his own thoughts, he barely heard the conversations around him. Kel and Randgar enjoyed each other’s company, and Jolella seemed content to listen to them talk.

  When her staff arrived to clear the table, Farrell hadn’t finished his food.

  “Was dinner not to your liking?” Jolella looked disappointed.

  “What? Oh no—I mean, yes—I mean, dinner was excellent. I just wasn’t hungry.” Farrell blushed.

  “Are you ill?” The question contained genuine concern.

  Farrell waved a hand. “I’m fine. This happens quite frequently. When my mind is engaged in some deep thought, my stomach seems to go to sleep. My teachers always chided me when this happened.”

  “As well they should.” She pushed a plate of cheese bread in front of him. “You’re far too thin to be skipping meals.”

  Had anyone else called him thin, Farrell might have been angry, but coming from her, he laughed it off. He took a slice of bread and smiled when she slid another piece onto his plate. “Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it at breakfast.”

  “Listen to him, Holy Mother,” Kel said. “I’ve seen him eat when he’s hungry. I thought I could eat in my youth, but he feeds like a ravenous bear waking from hibernation.”

  “Does your new status affect your hunger?” Randgar asked.

  Farrell missed the reference. “New status?”

  “You told us Arritisa changed you into an Arlefor. Do you still need to eat like the rest of us?”

  “I don’t feel any different.” The idea that his appetite or diet might change hadn’t occurred to him. “If anything, I would expect to have a greater appetite, not less.”

  “That’s not going to be possible,” Kel said, smiling at Farrell. “Haven doesn’t have the supplies to feed such a hunger.”

  Farrell cleared his throat. “Is there anything more you can tell me about Father Lingum and what to expect?”

  “
Remember to be formal, deferential, and respectful,” she said.

  “Respectful, of course, but definitely not deferential. I won’t let him think he controls me or my actions. Though I rarely brandish it, I am the Champion of the Six, and that includes Falcron.”

  Jolella frowned slightly. “Is that wise?”

  Farrell let out a short laugh. “Wise? Isn’t that the point of going to Falcron’s temple? To seek some measure of wisdom.”

  She gave Farrell a questioning look before she grinned widely. “Well said, but your suggested approach is not one I’d have taken.”

  “Father Lingum has already signaled he is not inclined to meet me but is agreeing to my request so he can see the Mind.” Farrell twisted his napkin before he set it down. “If he wants to see Falcron’s Gift, he’s the one who needs to be civil.”

  An uneasy silence followed. Farrell knew she didn’t agree with his tactics, and maybe he needed to reconsider his approach. She had done him a favor setting up the meeting.

  “May I ask a favor of you, Farrell?” Randgar asked.

  Farrell noted the serious expression and expected a lecture on how to treat clerics. “Of course.”

  “Will you take my eldest with you to Bowient?”

  He almost blurted out the argument he’d prepared to defend his way of handling Lingum. When the question sank in, he snapped his mouth shut to process the request.

  “Why would you want to send Cendreth into that sandstorm?” Jolella asked.

  “As we’ve seen with my brother, an amelt must possess wisdom. Perhaps he will acquire more than his father or uncle did before they ascended to the throne.”

  “Wisdom is not given or taught,” she said.

  “No, but one must be open to learning to become wise.” Randgar smiled. “Cendreth is already a good man and will be a wise ruler, but I think a visit to Bowient will reinforce the importance wisdom plays in an amelt’s rule.”

  Farrell looked at Jolella. “Unless you have an objection, I’m happy to allow him to join us.”

  “Another supplicant seeking wisdom should not be a problem.” Her countenance didn’t match her words, but she gave him a forced smile. “Since it is already midmorning in Bowient, we should leave soon. How quickly can Cendreth be ready to travel?”

  “He waits at the entrance to the temple with my guards.”

  The high priestess motioned to a novice standing nearby. The young woman walked to the main door. Jolella pushed back her chair and stood. “I must go don my formal robes. I don’t want him angry at you because of my appearance.”

  The three men stood and watched her leave. When she was gone, Kel touched Farrell’s arm.

  “A word of advice, Grandson?”

  “Of course.”

  “Allow me to confront Lingum if he becomes difficult. Not only will it prevent him from directing his anger at you, I believe he will be less inclined to try to bully me.”

  Farrell opened his mouth to object, but Kel raised his hand. “I have more experience dealing with pompous high priests. That, and it has been my experience that people give greater deference to the old than they do to the young. And let’s not forget, I am Kel.”

  “Yes, you are the Kel.” Farrell rolled his eyes and laughed.

  Kel smiled and winked at him. “All kidding aside, I’m not above using my status to my advantage should the need arise.”

  “Good advice, but—”

  “Why must there always be a but with the young?” Kel asked, half-amused, half-frustrated. “Does there always have to be a ‘but’ with you? Please continue with your explanation of why you don’t like my advice.”

  Farrell flushed and tried to keep his voice calm. “While I appreciate you are there to help me, I also need to be sure Lingum doesn’t think he can bully me. If I let you, or anyone else, take over when things get angry, he’ll assume I’m not able to stand up to him myself. Nothing good will come of that opinion.”

  Kel nodded and finally smiled. “A valid point, one I hadn’t considered. It’s been a long time since I was new to my power, but I remember the sneers of my ‘betters’ when I attempted what they could not at Trellham.”

  “Does that mean you’ll allow me to deal with Lingum?”

  “It does.” Kel held up his hand. “However—and yes, there is almost always a however with me—keep in mind my presence can be helpful should a problem arise.”

  Farrell nodded. “For most of my life I’ve had no one to rely on but myself. It is hard to remember to use those the Six sent to aid me.”

  “You would be wise to do as your grandsire suggests,” Randgar said. “The more people believe Kel is still the Champion of the Six, the better. Let word get back to Meglar that Kel has returned, and he’ll likely pay no mind to anyone else.”

  “Everything you say has merit, but . . .” Farrell smiled at them. Kel closed his eyes and shook his head. “If I’m to be Their Champion, I need the support of all six temples. Even if Lingum proves difficult, he’s still Falcron’s first prelate. I’m certain we’ll need his help before the war is over.”

  The door opened, and a Ze’arderian warrior strode into the room. About Farrell’s age, he walked like a soldier, his back straight and hand resting on the pommel of the sword at his waist. Cendreth looked like his father minus the gray hair.

  “You sent for me, Your Majesty?” He saluted crisply.

  “We are among friends, Cendreth. You do not need to treat me like the amelt.” Randgar reached out and clasped his son by the shoulders and smiled. “Farrell, Kel, this is my eldest son, Cendreth.”

  Farrell stepped forward and offered Cendreth his arm. “I don’t think we met when I was in Agloth.”

  “Though I saw much of you, we didn’t formally meet,” Cendreth said, accepting Farrell’s arm. “I did, however, speak with your life partner before the battle.”

  “Gentlemen.” Jolella’s voice caused them to turn around. “If you are ready, we should leave now.”

  “With your leave, Priestess, I will return to the city.” Randgar didn’t wait to be dismissed. He gave his companions a small bow and walked out.

  “The Door to Bowient is this way.” Jolella pointed back the way she’d arrived. “Come.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bowient was as chaotic as Kel had suggested. Throngs of people milled about the streets. Some begged, others hawked goods or food, and some waited to rob or pick the pockets of an easy mark. Soldiers escorted anyone of any position and had to ignore the prostitutes who called out their services.

  Unlike Dreth, where the guards had an alert but calm affect, these soldiers were on edge. Their hands clenched their weapons, and several times fights nearly broke out when someone strayed to the guards. Farrell breathed deeply, his anger rising with each indignity he saw. How could a city devoted to wisdom allow such deplorable conditions? Falcron’s priests taught magic to the world when Nendor was young. Even now, the temples of Falcron counted more wizards among their devotees than any other.

  Cendreth inched closer to Jolella and slid his hand down to his sword. The way he scanned the area had them all jumpy.

  “Prince Cendreth.” Jolella laid a hand on his shoulder. “Even in lawless Bowient, the priestesses of Seritia are not accosted or harmed.”

  Kel laughed. “What fool would risk a loveless life for the few trinkets a priestess might carry?”

  “True enough.” Jolella nodded. “The pockets of a wizard, however, are highly sought after by thieves and pickpockets.”

  “Direct your comments to Farrell, Holy Mother. I’m well versed in Bowient’s culture.”

  Still angry at what he saw, Farrell hadn’t been paying close attention to the conversation. He looked up when he heard his name, and he recalled what they’d said. A quick pulse of magic caused his shields to shimmer.

  “I’m shielded.” He went back to his thoughts when Jolella smiled.

  The crowded streets that held the danger of petty thieves trying to steal fro
m him made it hard for Farrell to focus on how to couch his request to Father Lingum. His thoughts were constantly interrupted by the endless stream of people asking for money, food, or anything else he could spare. The adults he found easier to ignore, particularly those who appeared healthy. But the children, especially the younger ones, pulled on his emotions.

  “The adults you see in the background control the children,” Kel said. “Give one child a coin and a dozen more will appear.”

  With a bit of effort, Farrell found an adult “handler” lurking behind a pitiful urchin who called out for money.

  “Shameful.” Cendreth spat the word out like it was distasteful. “Begging is a sorry enough task for those who have no other means, but to teach, nay, recruit children to do it is worse.”

  No one spoke again, which only added to Farrell’s foul mood. Had this existed in Yar-del and he’d never noticed? Did he spend too much time among the wealthy that he turned a blind eye to this in other places? They broke into an open space and Farrell saw their destination.

  The high temple of Falcron had once been the exact center of the city. Growth and uncontrolled sprawl upended the symmetry, but it was still the heart. If Seritia’s temple at Agloth was massive and Honorus’s temple on Dumbarten imposing, Falcron’s home was modest but impressive.

  A large portico greeted visitors, and a company of temple guards kept a constant vigil. The marble colonnades looked bluish in the morning sun. Rectangular and low, the building could fit inside any number of wings at Agloth. Windows lined the two sides he could see, extending almost to the roof of the structure. Blue-robed priests of all ranks peered through the glass, and more arrived every second.

  “Wild as Bowient is, an entire company to stand guard outside the front gate is a waste of resources.” Cendreth shook his head. “Their line of sight is such that two pair ought to be more than enough to close the gates.”

  “The guards are to honor the High Priestess of Seritia and her guests, not to protect the doors,” Kel said.