Champion of the Gods Box Set

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Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 137

by Andrew Q. Gordon


  Silently the odd quartet climbed the steps toward the doors alive with activity. More guards appeared on the landing, forming ranks on either side of the entrance. Five blue-robed priests appeared last, one in front with four trailing behind. It didn’t require the Eye to tell Farrell which one was Lingum.

  If Farrell had been asked to describe what he thought the high priest of Falcron would look like, it would be nothing like Father Lingum. Tall, lean, with short-cropped steel-gray hair, he walked like a warrior, not a scholar. Even his stance and the way he held the scepter of office spoke of his training as a fighter. He reminded Farrell of Wilhelm.

  “Sister Jolella, you look lovely as always.” Lingum sounded sincere. “Though I am disappointed you chose to traverse this unruly city without proper guards.”

  “You look hale as well, Brother, just as you seemed when we spoke a few hours ago.” She gave him a disarming smile. “As for my safety, an entire legion of soldiers couldn’t protect me better than the company I bring with me.”

  Lingum eyed his other guests critically and settled on Cendreth to greet first.

  “A son of Zeron is a welcome sight in Holy Falcron’s home after so many centuries.” He bowed. “If there is anything we can do to assist you during your time here, please be sure to ask.”

  “Chosen but not,” he said after another look at Kel. “Once you were a special child of our Holy Father, but no longer, and yet the gift is still visible. A mystery that needs solving.”

  “Greetings, Father. I am Kel.” His neutral tone surprised Farrell with how dangerous it sounded.

  “The Kel?” There was a hint of skepticism in his voice.

  “If that is how you think of me, then yes.” Kel had a wary look as he measured the priest. “My life has been both mystery and open book; it is a matter of who you ask. What confuses your sight is that I am no longer the Chosen of any God. All that is left are the fruits of the blessing.”

  “One who is Chosen is Chosen until death,” Lingum said.

  “So you say, but the Six act otherwise.” As if to soften his words, Kel smiled. “Perhaps Falcron felt another was better suited to be His Chosen when the mantle of Champion passed to my heir.”

  Farrell recognized the lecturing tone and regretted bringing his grandfather. Antagonizing someone who already hinted he was not inclined to help made this a wasted chance to sleep late.

  If Lingum took offense at the way Kel addressed him, he didn’t show it. To the contrary, he smiled. “As I said, a riddle to be answered.”

  Finally Lingum silently assessed Farrell for an uncomfortable length of time. “My apologies, Lord Farrell. That was rude.” He bowed deeply before continuing. “If Master Kel is a riddle, you are an enigma. Touched by the Six you are, but never have I seen such an imprint. Sister Jolella, I owe you an apology, too. I doubted your words and wondered if your vision were not clouded by emotion.”

  “Think nothing of it. The idea of a Champion walking among us takes some getting used to.”

  “Please.” He snapped his fingers to the others behind them. “We should go inside. Already a crowd has gathered to gawk.”

  Half the guards marched ahead, with the rest taking up a position behind the temple guests. The show of force was more than he’d seen at any other temple. Despite Jolella’s warning, he thought he could like Lingum, but if not that, at the very least respect him.

  Father Lingum ushered his guests into a large, well-furnished room. Unlike the overdone opulence of Seritia’s temple, the room reminded Farrell more of a study than a place to meet important visitors.

  “I am blunt and to the point by nature, so why break with tradition.” Lingum motioned for the others to find a chair around a long, polished marble table. “Why are you here, Farrell?”

  Farrell met Lingum’s stare without flinching. Compared to some of the things he’d done, the stare of a priest, even a high priest, wasn’t going to cow him. “I wish to speak to Falcron.”

  “You didn’t need to enlist Mother Jolella nor even come to Bowient to do that.”

  “True, but if the Holy Father declines to answer my prayers, I hoped your library might contain some of the information I seek.”

  “If I understand you correctly,” and his tone said he was certain he did, “you enlisted the aid of the high priestess of Seritia to gain an appointment with me in hopes I would help you convince the Holy Father to appear and answer your questions. Failing that, you want my help locating whatever information you seek among the books and treatises stored within these walls. Did I summarize that correctly?”

  The sarcastic tone irked Farrell. He didn’t have time for the bickering the temples enjoyed so much. “A bit crude, but essentially correct.”

  “Unfortunately, Son, that’s not how things work at this temple. Perhaps you should have tried to use your title as high king of the dwarves to convince Colograd’s prelate to help you.”

  When sarcasm became condescending lecture, Farrell let go of his restraint. “Just how do things work if Falcron’s Champion isn’t allowed to seek help from the head of His order?”

  “Just because you want an audience with Holy Falcron doesn’t mean you can have it.”

  “I didn’t say I expected you to command Falcron’s appearance. I came asking for your help. Who better to ask than you for advice on how to speak to Falcron?”

  “Flattery is a wasted talent with me. Pretty words will not win you my help.” Lingum turned toward Jolella and Kel. “You agreed to bring him here knowing what he planned?”

  “We did suggest this wasn’t how it worked,” Kel said.

  Between Lingum’s patronizing lecture and his grandfather sniping at him and everyone else, Farrell nearly lost his temper. Only Jolella’s calm appearance stayed the sharpest of his rebuke. “If you take issue with my being here, direct those comments to me and not Jolella. I sought her aid, and she gave it freely. She doesn’t deserve to be chastised for my mistake.”

  Lingum raised an eyebrow. “You admit coming here is a mistake?”

  “Not at all. I still hope to persuade you to assist me.”

  “My aid is freely given to those who demonstrate a need for it and the wisdom to use it properly.” Lingum eyed Farrell up and down once. “Thus far you’ve shown me neither.”

  “Are you deliberately taunting me?”

  “No, but I am left to wonder if Falcron chose wisely in allowing you to possess His Gift.”

  “If you question His wisdom, then you would be the fool, not I.” From the corner of his eye, Farrell saw Jolella taken aback at his comment.

  Lingum’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his staff. “Tread carefully and remember whose home you are a guest in.”

  “I know where I am and who I address. You seem to forget that I am Falcron’s Champion, and as such am entitled to at least the same amount of respect I gave before you insulted me.” Farrell kept his gaze steady and locked eyes with Lingum.

  The two stared at each other until Lingum blinked. “My apologies. You are correct. I should have been less confrontational. I’m not clear, however, on what you believe you’ll gain from me or this temple. You have the Mind already. What more can I offer?”

  Farrell let out his breath. “Your guidance would be a great help.”

  “There are no lessons I could give you.” He pulled his seat back and sat. “Be sincere, and if your need is true, the Holy Father will respond.”

  “I don’t think that’s what’s needed.” Farrell held up his hand to prevent a renewal of their testy exchange. “Forgive me, that was poorly worded. I don’t believe it’s as simple as asking Falcron for help. As you said, I already have the Mind, but there aren’t any instructions on how to use it.”

  Lingum tapped his finger on the polished wood. “I’m not sure how much help I or the temple can give. The Mind of Falcron was sent away three thousand years ago. Having never seen it, I can’t even offer a suggestion.”

  “This is what Jolella warned y
ou about,” Kel said. “Do not take the bait and produce it.”

  The wisdom of Kel’s warning was clear, but Farrell saw an opening. “How can it be wrong to show it to him?”

  “Remember Father Gedrin’s reaction to you possessing the Eye. To him, the Mind belongs here, not with someone he doesn’t think is qualified to possess it.”

  Despite his mind agreeing it was best to keep it concealed, Farrell’s gut said otherwise. “I don’t sense the same greed from Lingum that I did with Gedrin. My instinct tells me I should show it to him.”

  “Very well,” Kel said tersely.

  “Father Lingum.” He said a silent prayer to Falcron that he wasn’t being the fool Kel suggested and reached into his pocket. Farrell summoned the chest containing the Mind and pulled it out. He placed it on the table, opened the lid, and swung it around so the high priest could see inside. “The Mind of Falcron.”

  Lingum’s expression was difficult to read. He pointed to the chest with both hands, and Farrell nudged it closer.

  “You honor me.” His eyes darted from Farrell to the book.

  “I hope it’s not a foolish gesture on my part.” Farrell thought he saw a hint of embarrassment in Lingum’s face.

  “Seeing into my soul must be one of your talents.” Lingum smiled nervously. “I am sorely tempted to clutch this book until death to keep it from you.”

  “You understand I can’t allow that.”

  Lingum didn’t answer. Instead he flipped through the book quickly, then again before he closed it. “No doubt you noticed the pages are blank?”

  “How could I not?” He allowed himself to smile. “I assume it’s to reinforce the need to learn wisdom since it cannot be taught.”

  Lingum arched his left brow. “Very good. Did Mendox tell you that?”

  Farrell shook his head and tried not to sound offended. “No. I figured that out on my own.”

  “Legend tells of the book with no words.” Lingum’s eyes were unfocused as he stared at the Mind. “Acolytes who enter temple service receive a blank book when they arrive. Those who make the connection move on; those who don’t are given the choice of returning home or finding another job to perform in service to their god.”

  He tilted the book and turned it to the side before placing it back in the chest. After closing the lid, he slid it back to Farrell. “Thank you for allowing me to see this most precious Gift. Our Father has given it to you, and I’ll not challenge His wisdom.”

  “Thank you.” He put the chest back in his pocket.

  Lingum walked over and opened the door. He spoke in a low voice to a shocked novice. The young man nodded, and Lingum closed the door. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, but I’m all but certain what you seek isn’t here.”

  “Because wisdom can’t be taught?” Farrell asked.

  “Correct. Even if I found some passage that addressed how the Mind works, it is inconceivable that it would grant you wisdom on the spot.”

  The answer didn’t surprise Farrell, and he hadn’t expected Father Lingum to wave his scepter and grant him wisdom. But he might be able to help with the real reason they’d gone to Bowient.

  “Although that would be helpful, that wasn’t the question I wanted answered.” Farrell watched his grandfather from the corner of his eye. “Seritia told me I needed to collect all seven Gifts, but She didn’t say why.”

  “Do you have all seven Gifts?” Lingum eyed Farrell suspiciously.

  “Six. I don’t have the Blood of Arritisa.” Farrell paused to let Lingum ask the obvious.

  The priest’s eyes opened wide. “You have the Hand of Neldin?”

  “I do.”

  “Blessed Seritia gave it to him along with the Heart,” Jolella said.

  “Seritia gave it to him?” He scanned the faces at the table before settling back on Farrell. “How did She come to possess it?”

  “I obtained it for Her at Her request,” Kel said.

  “Why would Seritia want that?”

  “To keep it from Neldin’s servant,” Kel said.

  “But . . . won’t . . .?” Lingum closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  “Seritia used the Heart to hide the Hand from Neldin and His servants.”

  “She can do that?” He asked Jolella.

  “So She said.” She smiled at the obviously shaken high priest.

  “Back to my question, if we may.” Farrell sensed things moving away from his needs. “If I understood why I needed all seven, I might be able to answer Arritisa and recover Her Gift.”

  “What question?” Frustration crept into Lingum’s words.

  “Sorry, we got sidetracked a bit,” Farrell said. “I tried to get the Blood, but Arritisa told me I couldn’t have it until I knew why I wanted it.”

  “But you know where it is?”

  “I do.” He didn’t tell Lingum about Rastoria.

  Lingum smiled. “At least now I understand why you’re here.”

  “Just so we’re clear, I don’t expect you to tell me how to answer Arritisa, but if I knew why Seritia told me to collect all the Gifts, it might help.”

  “The seven most valuable items in all of Nendor, and my grandson wonders why the Six would want Their Champion to have all seven.” Kel frowned at Farrell.

  He avoided Kel’s gaze lest he get angry. “Aside from that obvious bit, I’m certain there is a greater purpose.”

  “Why?” Jolella asked. “What makes you think the sum is greater than the parts?”

  “Because some of the Gifts don’t seem necessary for a fight.”

  “Farrell, we’ve had this debate already—several times.” Kel sounded exasperated. “Just because you don’t know what a Gift can do doesn’t mean they’re not useful.”

  “True, and that’s one reason we’re in Bowient. Maybe the temple library has some hidden information we lack.” He smiled at Kel’s frustration. “However, if there were nothing else, there’d be no reason for me to possess the Heart or the Mind.”

  “You feel the Blessed Mother’s Gift is worthless?” Cendreth asked angrily.

  “Not at all. It’s incredibly valuable, but it’s not meant to aid someone in battle. Especially not in a wizard’s duel.”

  “As your grandfather has already criticized your thinking, so, too, shall I.” Cendreth’s voice lost none of its indignation. “That you can’t see the wisdom in Her Gift doesn’t mean it lacks value.”

  Lingum cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him. “Allow me to check if I understand your points correctly. Each of the Gifts has a purpose and value, but some are more suited toward your fight with Neldin’s servant.”

  Farrell nodded.

  “Therefore there would be little need for you to recover the Mind and the Heart, which arguably have little use in your fight, unless there is a larger purpose to having all seven.”

  Although Lingum summed up his arguments, Farrell didn’t trust him to back him up. “Yes.”

  “Allow me to take the other side of this debate,” Kel said. “Since you focus your arguments on the Heart of Seritia, let me start there. The Heart is used to hide the Hand from Neldin and Meglar. Although you dare not use it lest you alert Meglar to its location, the Hand might prove useful when at last you face Neldin’s Champion. So, while in and of its own power it is of little strategic value during the battle, allowing you to bear the Hand of Neldin to your fight with Meglar and potentially use it during the fight is reason enough for Seritia to want you to have Her Gift.”

  “And you know I don’t believe that is the correct answer.”

  “The Six provide you with the greatest weapons in the world, and all you do is look for some hidden meaning. Focus your efforts on how to use each to their fullest potential and stop looking to combine them into some kind of greater Gift.”

  Farrell didn’t want to get into an ugly argument with Kel, especially not in front of the others, but he knew he was correct.

  “I think you underestimate the wisdom of your
grandson’s vision, Kel,” Lingum said.

  “Now you think you know him better than I?” Kel’s anger shifted to Father Lingum. “And you had the audacity to lecture Farrell on not showing wisdom?”

  “Master Kel, discourse is poorly served by descending into name-calling and angry voices.” If Lingum saw the irony in his words, he didn’t show it. “I merely point out that his theory is logical and well-thought-out. Is he better served when he faces his enemy merely by his possession of the Heart or Mind or Blood? What harm is there in looking for something more?”

  “Every hour he wastes chasing the wind is an hour less he has to devote to wiser endeavors.”

  “Are the two concepts mutually exclusive?” Lingum looked at Kel and then Farrell.

  “No,” Farrell said.

  At the same time Kel said, “Yes.”

  The others in the room laughed, and even Farrell smiled. Kel remained upset.

  A knock at the door broke the strain of the moment. A young priest entered, his blond head poking through the partially open door.

  Lingum motioned toward the youth. “Come in.”

  The teen bowed as he entered, held out a small book that Lingum accepted, and left.

  “The high priests at every temple, including this one, are required to keep a diary of important events.” He turned the book over and over in his hands. “They are wondrous books. No matter how much I write, it never runs out of pages, never gets bigger or adds pages. Should the event not warrant an entry, it disappears as if never written. Since I became high priest, I’ve tried to read all the entries, but it seems there are always more I haven’t seen before.”

  “The Six can do things we can barely conceive,” Jolella said.

  “This is Bowient’s book. As such, it is the most important in the order,” Lingum said. “I’ve made few entries on these pages, and fewer still were accepted. I suspect the one I write today will be worthy of inclusion. I asked for the book to determine if my predecessors wrote anything that would aid you.”

  “You mean you don’t know what’s in your own diary?” Cendreth asked.

 

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