Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  She waved her hand at him. “All this for a simple cup of tea?”

  “To each according to his means.”

  Still eyeing her new treasure, she asked, “What was that?”

  “Seritia requires payment for Her services. The worth of the gift isn’t measured by its cost, but rather its value to the owner,” Farrell said.

  “What does that have to do with tea?”

  “A cup of tea might have little value in a crowded market, but when offered to someone in dire need of a drink, it could command far more than a copper kettle.” Farrell pointed to himself. “It’s not the tea that is valuable. It’s the kindness you’ve shown me.”

  “Seritia taught you all that?”

  Farrell nodded. “I learned it while visiting Her temple in Agloth.”

  “You made a pilgrimage to Agloth? What gift did you bring?” Her smile disappeared, and she quickly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask such a personal question.”

  “No need to apologize. I didn’t bring a gift because I didn’t go seeking Seritia’s help.”

  “Why go to Agloth if not to find true love?” Her tone mirrored the confusion on her face. “It’s said to be in the middle of a burning desert.”

  Farrell laughed. “Yes, it is. I’ve never been to a hotter place. I went . . . to help the temple, not to ask for help.”

  “She’ll reward you for your efforts.” When Farrell didn’t respond, Anoria appeared flustered. “Blessed be Falcron, the tea should be ready by now.”

  She moved the small basket up and down in the steaming water, then set it aside and retrieved two cups from the alcove. Small and delicate, they seemed out of place in the home. She left the pair sitting by the pot.

  Farrell leaned back as his hostess moved about the small room. Minutes earlier, Neldin had tried to convince Farrell the Six didn’t care for him or anyone else. Yet here was an example of what They valued above all else.

  The coincidence wasn’t lost on him, but Farrell sensed nothing from Anoria other than what he saw. Before he could continue that line of thought, Anoria handed him his tea.

  “These are nice.” He held up the cup before taking a sip. “Where did you get them?”

  “One of my boys, Hendris, brought them back from a distant city.” She smiled fondly, but it was fleeting. “He worked guard duty for a merchant and thought I would like them.”

  Her use of past tense stopped Farrell from asking about Hendris. “This tea is good. Thank you.”

  “What?” She seemed to come back from somewhere else. “Oh, you’re welcome. For a moment I thought you were him, the way you held the cup. It’s stronger than it appears. You won’t break it.”

  “What happened to him?” The words came out before he could stop them.

  “He died the next trip.” The hurt in her voice poked at wounds Farrell didn’t want reopened. “Or at least, that’s what we believe. No one returned from the trip—no guards, no merchants, no word. If he lived, he would have sent word.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Two years.” Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

  Farrell called a small cloth from his endless pocket, checked that it was clean, and handed it to her. “I’m truly sorry.”

  Silently she accepted the handkerchief and dried her eyes. “We both knew it was dangerous work, but it paid well, and he did not want to become a beggar or thief. He was tall and strong and good with a sword. I suggested he join the temple guard, but he didn’t want to be bound to one place.”

  “You said you raised boys. How many children do you have?”

  “Two boys and a girl.” Her smile didn’t totally ease the sadness in her eyes. “The girl is joined and lives not far away with his mother. He’s a cooper. Learned the trade from his father and took over when the poor man died when his woodpile collapsed and crushed him.”

  “What of your other son?” He hoped asking wasn’t a mistake.

  “Followed in his brother’s footsteps, he did, but Amicilar had the good sense to stay local. He joined with a lovely girl who is also a merc. Together they help guard a rich merchant who has a home in the city and a large estate to the east. They make sure I’m well cared for.”

  Farrell waited until he was sure she wasn’t going to say more. “It’s well they do not forget to see to your needs.”

  “What of you? What of your parents? Do you have siblings?” She clearly wanted to change the subject.

  Now that the conversation turned toward his family, he realized why he hadn’t wanted to ask about her boys. “My mother is well, though for the last ten years I thought she was dead. As for my father, he and I don’t speak. We don’t agree on a good many things, and it’s best we don’t interact.”

  “There is a story behind that, no doubt,” she said. “Does your mom share your attitude?”

  “Very much so.” Farrell gave her a thin smile. “She would not shed a tear if we learned he’d died.”

  “Oh my, that’s—”

  “Dark?” Neldin’s words replayed in his mind.

  “I was going to say unfortunate.”

  His mood deteriorated talking about Meglar. “In many ways.”

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  Farrell laughed, a rueful, mirthless chuckle. “That might offend you more than my attitude toward my father. My mother had just me, but my father sired others unbeknownst to her. I’ve only met one so far. He was my eldest half brother.”

  “Was?”

  “We found ourselves on opposites sides during the battle for Agloth. He didn’t survive.”

  “Though he seemed to have made poor choices, I’m sure it hurts to know he died.”

  “I barely knew him.” He hadn’t thought about Vedric’s death as painful until now. “When he tried to kill me, I had little choice.”

  “Merciful Falcron.” Anoria opened her eyes wider. “I’m glad my boys never came to blows like that.”

  “Be even more thankful neither of your sons led an army to raze Seritia’s temple.” Though he knew he’d done the only thing he could, he still felt the need to defend his actions.

  When he saw her reaction, he wished he’d never mentioned Vedric. Talking about killing his brother didn’t help when she was still mourning the loss of her oldest son. He looked into his teacup and wondered if he should offer to use the Eye to find out what had happened to Hendris. Anoria offered him more tea, and he held out his cup. Without thinking, he took a sip and burned his lip.

  “Careful.” She sounded like his mother with just that one word.

  He smiled and looked down. “Yes, ma’am. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I could see that. After my last questions, I won’t ask what you were thinking about.”

  He chuckled to hide his discomfort. “My thoughts were nothing like that. I was actually thinking about you.”

  “Me?”

  Having said that much, he couldn’t turn back. “If I could find out what happened to your son, would you want to know?”

  Doubt, desire, anxiety, and fear played across her face. “Are you just saying that, or can you really?”

  “I can, or I wouldn’t have offered.”

  “Other wizards have tried. The merchant who disappeared was a cousin of the belcin. He had his wizard try to find the missing people. Hendris was one of the few who had family in the city, so they asked me for something of his to use to try to locate him.”

  Farrell removed the Eye from the velvet bag but kept his hand in his pocket. “I’m not other wizards.”

  She studied him closely. Farrell understood her hesitancy. Even if she believed he could help her, the truth might erase the tiny glimmer of hope she had.

  “No, you are surely not like others.” She smiled, and it seemed forced. “You give me a difficult choice, one I’m not sure I want to make.”

  “I was foolish to have offered.” He ran his finger over the smooth surface of the Eye and pushed it back in the bag. “I’
m sorry. Thank you for the tea and the kindness.”

  “Wait.” A hint of desperation in her voice kept Farrell from standing. “If you can find out what happened to my Hendris, I want to know. I may never get another chance.”

  “Are you certain?” Farrell asked. “You don’t need to answer me right away.”

  “I’m sure.” She didn’t look at him. “He deserves to have his family know.”

  “Very well.” Farrell freed the Eye again. He closed his eyes and focused on the blue stone. Without knowing what his target looked like, he asked the Eye to show him what happened to Hendris, son of Anoria of Bowient.

  Nothing happened at first, and Farrell struggled to maintain his concentration. A picture slowly formed in his mind, but it was shadows moving listlessly in a dark room. Flashes of light appeared at the edges of his vision.

  He pushed to get a clearer image, and his efforts steadied the picture. Keeping his eyelids closed, the original image swirled in and out as snippets of scenes rushed before him. Snow, a mountain, wagons, a dozen men, a fire, more men, fighting, running, more fighting, darkness, a city, a harbor, a ship, the ocean, squalor, whips, drums, shouting, more fighting.

  “Farrell?” Anoria’s voice shattered the cascading dream.

  He opened his eyes and found her hovering over him. “Yes?”

  “You fell asleep, so I let you be while I tidied up the place.” She backed away. “You muttered strange words, and your voice sounded angry.”

  “Asleep?” He checked the window and the light was fading. He pushed up and got to his feet. “How long?”

  “A couple of hours. It’s nearly dusk.”

  “Dusk? How could that be?”

  “You needed the rest, so I let you be. Do you have a place to stay?”

  “Yes.” He still didn’t understand how he’d fallen asleep while using the Eye. “I do, but thank you for your concern.”

  “Where?” She appeared skeptical and Farrell laughed.

  “Fear not, protective mother. I’m well taken care of.”

  “Hmmm.” She shook her head and put the teacup away. “So you say.”

  “I tried to find your son, though I must have been too tired to focus the spell. I saw something, but I couldn’t stay awake to decipher it. Once I rest some, I’ll try again and let you know what I learn.”

  “You found something?”

  “Yes, but it was a jumble of images I couldn’t understand. I promise to search again when I can concentrate better.”

  Anoria’s shoulders dropped. “The others were likewise unable to learn anything.”

  “My attempt didn’t fail, but as I don’t know what your son looks like, it requires greater strength of will to make the spell do what I want. Tomorrow I’ll be successful.”

  She stared at him a moment, closed her eyes briefly, and shook her head. “There’s no need to try again. I appreciate your attempt, especially given how tired you must be after the fight.”

  The disappointment in her voice almost made him say he thought her son was alive. That other wizards had tried and found nothing told him someone had put a lot of effort into concealing his whereabouts. If that were true, there was more to what happened than a lost son. Better to know the truth before he promised anything.

  “Anoria took him in there,” a male voice outside the house said, breaking Farrell’s concentration. Anoria’s eyes opened wider, and she gasped as the familiar sound of armor reached their ears.

  “Why do you want him?” another man asked. “Is he in trouble?”

  “No, he is not,” Jolella said. Farrell relaxed and let his hand slip off the pommel. “He’s my friend and I’m looking for him.”

  “You’ve nothing to fear.” Farrell took Anoria’s hands in his and rubbed gently. “They’re friends.”

  “Farrell, are you in there?” Jolella asked.

  “Yes, Holy Mother, I am.” He stifled a yawn and faced his hostess. “The high priestess of Agloth, Mother Jolella, is outside. With your leave, I’ll invite her in.”

  “Oh,” Anoria sputtered. In a panic, she brushed the front of her dress with her hand. “I can’t have the high priestess as a guest.”

  “People such as you are the most qualified to receive a high priestess.” Farrell waved his hand, and her clothing became new. Together they pulled back the curtain and greeted their guests.

  Cendreth and a dozen guards stood behind Jolella. They eyed the crowd gathered around the priestess and kept their hands on their weapons.

  “Greetings, Holy Mother.” He tried to sound surprised. “What brings you here?”

  “I could ask the same of you.” She raised an eyebrow. “The way you flew off, it left us all somewhat afraid for your well-being.”

  He ignored the gentle rebuke and drew a reluctant Anoria closer. “Holy Mother, may I introduce Anoria, the lady of the house.”

  He bowed to Jolella and stepped back to allow Anoria to come forward.

  “Lady of the house.” Anoria smoothed the folds of her skirt and bowed deeply to Jolella. “It’s an honor beyond words for someone of your position to come to my humble home, Holy Mother.”

  Jolella’s features softened and she looked at Farrell.

  “She invited me in for tea to help quell my upset stomach.” He smiled. “Her kindness was the perfect medicine for what ailed me.”

  Jolella held out both hands and waited for Anoria to accept. Placing her hands in Jolella’s, the older woman became flustered.

  “Seritia’s blessings upon you and your home.” Jolella held Anoria’s hands and closed her eyes. “Your sorrow is deep, but so have been your blessings. Though your true love has left, you see him whenever you look upon your children. The Blessed Mother offers Her compassion for your loss but is glad you can find happiness in the world around you.”

  Jolella opened her eyes and smiled warmly. “As for me, I thank you for your kindness to my friend here. He is dear to me and to others. Your generosity shall be rewarded.”

  “All this over a cup of tea?” Anoria pulled her hands away and stepped back.

  “To you that is all it was, but to me it was an act of caring when I needed it most. You helped remind me what’s really important. Be well, Anoria. We will meet again.” Farrell collected her hands in his and kissed them. He slipped a small pouch between her palms. Closing her fingers around the leather bag so no one could see it, he leaned closer.

  “Accept this small gift to help your family as much as you helped me. Open it away from prying eyes so no one is tempted to take it from you.”

  Farrell winked and said to Jolella and her guards, “I assume you’ve come to take me back to Agloth.”

  “Your grandfather is anxious to have you back.” She nodded to Cendreth, and the soldiers took up positions around her. “He said you and he have somewhere to go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Under the light of a nearly full moon, Farrell closed the Door and followed Kel toward the small house. His understanding of the time differential made it just past midnight on Dumbarten. Lingum had argued for the pair to stay in Bowient, but this made more sense to Farrell. They could leave without seeking permission or saying goodbye. Farrell also wanted some time to think about what had happened.

  When they’d returned to Seritia’s temple, he gave them a short version of his time in the city. He omitted any mention of Neldin’s visit and focused on his time with Anoria. It didn’t feel right leaving out something so important, but he didn’t have the energy for the discussion that would have followed. At least that’s what he told himself to ease his guilt.

  Kel stopped in front of the door and scanned the area.

  “As a small boy, I would come and go as my chores allowed, taking little note of anything. When I was a young man, I had no use for this humble home, believing it was so contrary to the talent I possessed.” Kel ran his hand over the wood around the door. “It wasn’t until those who made this place special had died that I cared. By then it was t
oo late to preserve most of the little things my mother had done to make it a home.”

  Farrell stood quietly. Outwardly it was a simple, sturdy home, similar to those he’d seen thousands of times in hundreds of places. Yet he couldn’t imagine any other house being as important to the world as this one.

  “Enough of my musings.” Kel clapped Farrell on the back and opened the door.

  Bone-tired, Farrell didn’t stand on decorum. “Where would you like me to sleep?”

  “Hmm.” Kel stared at him with a critical eye. “You are close to burnout. I should have paid closer attention.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, you will, but only if you rest and recover.” He led Farrell to a door in the corner, opened it, and sent a globe of light inside. “My brother Hevnor and I were the last to use this room. Sleep well.”

  Despite the significance of the room, it took Farrell approximately four heartbeats once his head hit the pillow to fall asleep. He wondered what Miceral was doing just before he succumbed to the demands of his body.

  Farrell slept late into the morning and woke to the sound of birds outside his window. Sitting up, his mouth tasted foul and his face was dirty, but he felt refreshed. The rough sheets scratched his skin, and he regretted not staying awake long enough to summon a clean nightshirt.

  The small corner room had two windows, one facing south, the other west. His bed was pressed against the north wall. Besides a trunk, there was no other furniture. He ran his hand over the chest and imagined what treasures young Kel and Hevnor stored inside.

  History remembered the pair as so different from each other—Kel the studious wizard and Hevnor the warrior-king. They were legends now, but once they’d been little boys who lived in this room. Farrell tapped the lid once and stood.

  He found his pants on the floor and removed the Eye. It took just a few moments to find the answers that eluded him the day before. Stowing the gem, he summoned clean clothes from his endless pocket.

  The aroma of meat cooking made his stomach rumble as he stepped into his new pants. He followed his nose into the main house and found Kel humming contently in the kitchen. His grandfather held a black iron frying pan over a flame that sprouted from the air. In the hearth a kettle billowed steam over another fire that had no fuel. Farrell smelled coffee and searched until he spotted a pot on the brick ledge over the fireplace.