Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “I sense no magic. It appears you have gained some new abilities,” Penelope said as Farrell lowered the teens to the ground.

  “You could say that.”

  Farrell spent the next twenty minutes recounting what had happened in Rastoria and Bowient. He spent extra time on the events in Rastoria to give Penelope as much information as he had on his newest task.

  “Arritisa kissed you?” Wallace asked. Farrell couldn’t tell if it shocked or repulsed him.

  “She did,” Farrell said. “Scared the breath out of me when my shield dissipated and I inhaled a lungful of water. It wasn’t until we arrived at Trag that Kel figured out I could do more than breathe underwater.”

  “Interesting that She could give such a powerful gift without Neldin retaliating,” Marisa said.

  Everyone looked toward Kel. He shook his head. “I have no answer. Either Neldin has done or can do the same already to Meglar or such gifts are permissible.”

  “You should ask a cleric,” Marisa said. “Knowing the answer might be important down the road.”

  Farrell nodded and turned to Penelope. “I came here hoping you might have a suggestion on what to tell Arritisa.”

  “Flattered as I am that you sought my advice, I’ve nothing to offer,” Penelope said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize, but I’m not letting you off that easy.” Farrell smirked at her expression. “Nothing unpleasant. Just if you think of anything, please let me know.”

  “Of course,” Penelope said. “Now about this pirate ship with the woman’s son. There I think I can help you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Explain to me again why you’re doing this.” Markus ran a hand through his hair and waved off more wine with the other.

  Before Farrell could answer, Kel spoke. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “There are many things that are ‘the right thing to do’ that don’t get done,” Markus said. “It might be the right thing to rid the world of Werthan of Jerdam, but the cost in men and gold to do so persuades me it’s not a good idea.”

  “We’re at war with Meglar.” Kel stared at his nephew with the steely gaze Farrell already knew well. Markus would do well to yield now. “This ship does Meglar’s bidding and could one day be used against Dumbarten. Anything that weakens that is worth doing.”

  “I’m not asking you to send your navy to do the fighting,” Farrell said, hoping to head off a full-blown argument. “I need your ship to take care of the prisoners we free. You can even keep the enemy vessel if you like.”

  Markus nodded and aimlessly ran his fingers over the top of his goblet. “It still seems a terrible risk to take for such little gain. This notion of being for the good of the war effort is pure pretext. Were this Hendris not a slave, we would not be discussing this expedition.”

  “That the main motivation is to free Anoria’s son does not negate the good,” Kel said.

  Markus made a sour face, and Farrell knew his cousin was equally stubborn. He also didn’t like being bullied by anyone, not even the legendary Kel. A change of tactics was needed.

  “Markus, I’d ask Cameron to help, but he and his ship are too far away,” Farrell said. “Your vessel is the closest to the target. What harm is there in granting me the aid I request?”

  “First, I believe this is ill-advised.” Markus held up a finger, and Farrell knew he’d moved in the wrong direction. “Should this go badly, I’ll be remembered as the fool who encouraged your recklessness.”

  “Markus—” Penelope said, but the king ignored her and raised a second finger.

  “Second, there is something I don’t understand. For good or ill, you’re not being completely forthcoming. Nothing you said is a lie, but there is more, much more, that you’re not telling.”

  He put up his third finger and dropped his hand on the table with a thud. “Finally, my ship is not equipped to capture pirate vessels. Its mission is to locate and destroy them. You probably don’t know this, but the Yar-del Navy captured a vessel yesterday, and it exploded when it touched the dock. Our enemy has placed odd spells on their ships in case they are seized. I don’t know if that’s in response to what you and Kel did to the ship with Meglar’s cousin, but either way, it requires too much time and effort to unspell them.”

  “The word is ‘disarm,’ Markus,” Penelope said.

  “Fine, disarm!” He waved his hand dismissively. “The point is, this is not as simple as you suggest.”

  Farrell ran his hands across his face and exhaled. “It really is very simple. Between myself and Kel, there won’t be any spells we can’t disarm or remove.”

  “You can’t know that!” Markus gestured angrily.

  “Yes, Markus, I can.” Farrell had been holding the Eye in his pocket. He pulled it out and put it on the table.

  It took another deep breath before Markus relaxed. He faced Kel. “Do you agree with Farrell’s assessment?”

  Kel nodded. “I do. We’ll be able to see whatever Meglar’s spell casters try to hide. I feel confident we can remove any threat we find.”

  “Very well, you have convinced me you can defeat their magic,” Markus said. “Now tell me why you want to try. What is it about this ship, this slave, this Anoria, that makes you risk your lives?”

  Farrell sighed. “I’ve told you already, it’s the right thing to do. Anoria had every reason to stay inside and avoid strangers. People were disappearing, the temple had been attacked, Chamdon were running around the city. To her it must have felt like Neblor had come to Bowient. Yet despite that, she offered what little comfort she had to make me feel better.”

  “Did you even need her help?” Markus asked.

  “Not the point.” Farrell shook his head. “She thought I needed help, and without hesitation she gave it. To you her offering is a trifling thing, but to one who has almost nothing, a cup of tea is a treasure. If I don’t help people like her, what am I fighting for? If I can’t use my abilities to ease the suffering of one who can give so selflessly, do I even deserve to have them? Perhaps it is because only I can do this for her that I have to do it. You have no idea how much her simple act helped me that day. There is no other adequate way to repay her.”

  Unsure of what else he could say, Farrell held up his hands. “I don’t know if that qualifies as a good reason, but it’s my reason.”

  Markus lost the hostile body language. “You shame me, cousin. I’ll have the order drawn up directing my officers to follow your orders.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Penelope said. “I’m going with them.”

  “You are?” Markus and Marisa asked at the same time.

  “I want to see what’s being done to these ships,” Penelope said. “If one shows up in our ports, it will help if I’ve seen it firsthand before it arrives.”

  Everyone looked at Farrell. “What?”

  “They’re waiting to hear if you object to my presence,” Penelope said.

  “Why would I do that? I came to you for help.”

  “Grandson,” Kel chuckled. “Your record of accepting aid speaks for an objection.”

  “Did you think I’d protest?”

  “No. It never crossed my mind.”

  “Be nice, dear,” Marisa said.

  “What about us?” Peter indicated himself and Wallace.

  “You can’t come, sorry,” Farrell said.

  “That’s not fair.” Peter folded his arms across his chest. “This threatens Belsport as well.”

  “Yes, it does, young prince, and we will share what we learn with you and your father,” Kel said. “But this attack doesn’t require swords, only wizardry.”

  “Fear not, Peter,” Markus said. “War shall find its way all too soon to Dumbarten. Then you’ll have your chance to demonstrate your skills.”

  “It will take me the rest of the day to get my plans in order.” Farrell stood up. “What say we leave an hour after first light tomorrow?”

  “An hour a
fter first light? You?” Markus smirked. “That’s worth the price of my aid all by itself.”

  “Remind me again why I enjoy your company, cousin?” Farrell said.

  Markus walked over and put his arm around Farrell’s shoulders. “It has to be my stellar good looks and amazing wit.”

  Farrell sat cross-legged, floating over Marisa’s practice field as the sun rose over the plains east of Dreth. He stepped down and began to stretch.

  “Did you suddenly adopt a new outlook?” Marisa asked from behind.

  “Skipping from continent to continent has wreaked havoc on my internal clock.” Farrell didn’t stop his exercises. “That, and it isn’t often I get the chance to see the sun rise, even if I get up before dawn.”

  “The drawbacks of living inside a mountain.”

  “It is a small price to pay to not suffer through the summer heat and humidity.”

  “Heat, early morning hours—what else does Your Majesty not like that the rest of the common folk must endure?” she asked mockingly.

  “Carrots.”

  “Carrots?”

  “Can’t stomach them.” He was going through a series of difficult maneuvers, so he paused before finishing the thought. “Especially not the mushy ones that have been cooked too long.”

  Marisa laughed. “Don’t grow up, Farrell. I like you just as you are.”

  “Tell that to my partner,” he said. “Now that we have the children, he has a different opinion of my maturity.”

  “Children do change one’s outlook on life.”

  “Am I in your way?” he asked. “You’re wearing your practice jerkin and carrying two swords.”

  “Not at all. I thought I’d test how much Arritisa’s kiss changed you.” She tossed him a sword.

  He caught the weapon and shook his head. “I can’t.” Turning the sword around, he offered the hilt to Marisa.

  “Can’t or won’t?” She refused to take the blade back.

  “Both.” Farrell stepped closer and planted the sword blade-first in the dirt. “I don’t know what I can do or how to control it. If I accept, I’d place you in grave danger for no reason.”

  “Do you think so little of my skills?”

  “With respect, Marisa, that question is beneath you.” Though he kept his tone polite, her attempt at guilt irritated him. “You heard what happened in Bowient. I don’t know what triggers my new abilities, much less how to control them. I’ll not risk hurting you.”

  “Miceral was able to spar with you and with Peter.” She plucked the sword from the ground.

  “You can’t compare me to Miceral. He’s been himself his whole life.”

  Marisa snickered. “He has indeed.”

  “I meant he’s lived with his abilities his entire life. He learned to control them from the day he was born. “I’m still figuring things out.”

  “If you don’t practice, how do you expect to learn?”

  “Cautiously.” He flashed her the barest of grins. “Given their greater speed and strength, I’ll feel more comfortable training with Miceral or Master Baylec.”

  “That does sound prudent.” She stared at him. “Do you feel different?”

  “Not in the slightest,” he said. “The unsettling bit is how the time distortion happens without warning.”

  “That does sounds disturbing. And you have no idea how to control it?”

  He shook his head. “None. But before I can control it, I need to figure out how it happens. I’ve seen Miceral snatch an arrow in midflight, but he never said his perception of time is different from mine.”

  “That presumes he realizes you don’t view the world the same way. He might believe you see things the same.”

  Farrell chuckled. “Similar to ‘he’s always been himself.’”

  “Exactly.” She planted her sword in the dirt and unsnapped her greave. “Tell me something. Not that we don’t enjoy your company, but why did you come here? Penelope and I thought you’d want to use the free time to see Miceral and the children.”

  Farrell stared at the point where her swords disappeared into the dusty, brown practice field. “I miss all three of them, but I left one person, and I’m returning someone else. I fear how Miceral will react.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head, squinted, and studied him. “You don’t think you’re the same person you were before Arritisa kissed you?”

  “If only it were that simple. Ignore my new abilities, though I wonder if that won’t cause a strain. I tried to kill—would have killed—a helpless man but for Seritia and Falcron stopping me. And it’s not that one action alone that troubles me. In reflecting on why I did . . . tried to do that I realized it isn’t an isolated incident. I’m not sure Miceral fully understands what I’m really like.”

  Marisa surprised him by giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I understand what you are feeling. Penelope went through something similar. Unlike most of us, you and she have the power to change people’s lives—for good or ill. At your core, you both are good people who want to help those in need. When something happens that is contrary to that core belief, it’s only natural for you to question who you really are.

  “But one action, no matter how terrible, can’t define your essence. Meglar wouldn’t suddenly transform into a good person through one act of compassion. By all accounts, the belcin is a horrible man deserving of the worst punishment. Killing someone who sold his people into death would not have qualified as an abuse of power.”

  She reached for his hand and squeezed. “My advice is, do not to dwell on this incident. It isn’t a fair test. If the day comes where you kill an innocent person for the sport of killing them, then I’ll worry. And so should you. But not before.”

  It wasn’t his desire to kill the belcin that worried Farrell. Miceral would understand that. But how did he explain away the need to make the man suffer? The desire to see him shake in fear? That person would disgust Miceral. He pushed those thoughts aside for the moment.

  “Thank you for your support, Marisa. It means a lot.” He hugged her, feeling every bit the liar he was. “I’m certain Miceral and I can work through this once I get home.”

  She nodded. “If you are finished, let’s go inside. The staff was up early to prepare breakfast for you and the others before you leave.”

  The sensation of floating under the surface and breathing normally still unnerved Farrell. He tensed the moment water filled his lungs, but after the first few breaths, the feeling passed from his conscious thought.

  At Kel’s suggestion, Farrell requested a company of Arlefors from King Clayden. He didn’t expect they’d need the warriors, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. The twenty well-armed guards swam in position around him.

  “The large wooden shell approaches, Chosen,” the officer in charge said.

  “Thank you.” Farrell looked at the officer’s insignia and couldn’t tell his rank. “Keep your warriors below the surface. I’ll call you if I need help.”

  “Chosen, with every respect and all deference to your power, you should allow us to handle your enemies. My command and I can easily secure the vessel.”

  Farrell shook his head, an action he realized had little impact underwater. “I’m certain you could, but there is something on board I need to secure before I let your command loose on the ship. It isn’t something I can easily identify in advance, either, so you might inadvertently break it before I can find it.”

  “As you command, Chosen.” The Arlefor scowled.

  “I promise you, if it comes to a fight, I’ll call upon you and your soldiers to handle my enemies. You have my word.”

  “As Chosen of Blessed Arritisa, you own our loyalty. None will challenge your decisions.”

  “Thank you.”

  The front edge of the keel knifing through the water appeared at the edge of his vision. Oars broke the plane of the sea, propelling the trim vessel toward its destination.

  “How far away is the shell with my friends?” Fa
rrell asked.

  “They require at least two cycles to reach us, Chosen,” the commander said.

  He’d never asked what a cycle was in Rastorian time. “How many cycles are there in a day?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  That put Kel and Penelope more than two hours away. Longer than he’d expected. He could either pull back toward the Dumbarten vessel or seize the enemy ship and move it closer to his own. “Captain, my friends are too far away to help as planned. I’ll need your help once I secure the people on that shell.”

  “We are here to serve.” The officer’s voice betrayed his excitement.

  The last thing he needed was a full-scale brawl on the ship when he searched for Hendris. “I fear it won’t be as glorious as you hope.”

  “Going to battle with the Chosen is glory enough.”

  Hearing the near awe in the Arlefor’s voice, Farrell realized this could be the first time in recorded history Arlefors took part in an attack on surface dwellers. If that were the case, the names of these soldiers would be remembered for all time.

  He went over the spell Kel had taught him again and took a deep breath. The feeling of water rushing into his lungs tickled and he nearly coughed. He wondered how many other habits he would need to change if he lived underwater.

  The pirate ship had closed the gap and was almost even with his position. He pushed upward and emerged on the port side of the vessel. Water erupted around the ship, surrounding it in a massive column of unnaturally solid liquid. The watery prison extended up to the railings and effectively immobilized the oars. Gradually the ship came to a halt.

  Farrell created a pillar under his feet and moved closer to his prey. The sailors and marines focused their attention on what had happened and didn’t notice his approach. Before he set foot on deck, someone spotted him, and the crew converged on him.

  He followed Kel’s instructions, and red bands appeared in front of him. They shot forward, wrapping everyone on deck in layers of energy. Pleased with the results, Farrell searched for the ship’s wizard or wizards.