Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Thank you,” Ferdrick said.

  “Thank the guard next to you. He championed your cause.” Farrell climbed the stairs without stopping this time.

  Standing before the bowsprit, Farrell watched Kel and Penelope’s ship move closer. The weather had alternated between a steady rain and intermittent drizzle. It made the deck and spars in the rigging slippery. Pushing his wet hair off his forehead, Farrell climbed down toward the prisoners.

  “Captain Ferdrick,” he called out when he reached the perimeter.

  “Yes?”

  “I need your men to furl the sails. If you and your crew want to curry favor with Dumbarten, here is a chance to prove your intentions.” Farrell was about to remove their bonds but realized the Arlefors didn’t understand his words.

  “Commander.” He waited until the officer looked his way. “I need the prisoners to perform their work on the shell so we can connect with my friends. I’ll warn them not to do anything other than what they’re told or they will end up pierced by a trident.”

  “Should they ignore your warning, it will be a short fight. These puny soldiers are not worthy opponents.”

  Farrell released his magic and watched the sailors scurry about to work on their ship. True to his word, Ferdrick kept his crew in line and had the sails stowed without incident. In acknowledgment of their efforts, Farrell didn’t bind them again. Instead he created a pen around the group.

  The Dumbarten ship sailed past them and came around to link up on the starboard side. Anxious Dumbarten marines readied their weapons on deck.

  “Grandfather?”

  “Did everything go as planned?” Kel asked.

  “Capturing the vessel went without issue. What I learned afterward wasn’t so smooth.”

  “Would you care to explain that cryptic remark?”

  “This is the Intrepid, flagship of the Royal Spagrom Navy and not a true pirate ship.”

  Kel emerged from belowdecks and studied the ship. “How does that change things?”

  “Spagrom’s chief wizard was guarding the ship, and their captain told me they were bound for Tunid on a diplomatic mission.”

  “Given the political implications, Markus will be less than pleased by our actions.”

  The Dumbarten vessel tossed two thick ropes across, and Farrell secured them magically. Tied together, the two ships drifted west. Boarding planks appeared between the two vessels, and Dumbarten marines scurried across.

  “Probably not, but they’re working for Meglar,” Farrell said. “Dumbarten’s intelligence corps might learn something of value.”

  The first Dumbarten fighters came toward him, giving the Arlefors a wide berth.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Farrell said. “These are the allies Princess Penelope and I mentioned.”

  The marine closest to him eyed the Arlefor and his trident. “Honorus’s balls, I’m glad they’re on our side.”

  The soldiers formed ranks to allow Kel and Penelope to come over. Farrell said to the towering Arlefor next to him, “Commander, my sincerest apologies, but I never asked your name.”

  “Vinod, Chosen.”

  “I want to thank you and your Arlefors for your help. Though we didn’t kill anyone, we captured a valuable asset for our side.”

  “Victories come in many forms, Chosen. This one will be commended for achieving our objective with no casualties.”

  He nodded and waited for the others to arrive. With the vessel secure, they discussed what to do with the captured sailors and ship.

  “I don’t think it prudent to chain them to the oars if they are members of the Spagrom Navy,” Farrell said.

  Kel shook his head. “I disagree. They’re using captured soldiers to man the oars of their vessels. A taste of their own treatment might go a long way toward dissuading such conduct in the future.”

  “I agree with Farrell,” Penelope said. “Not only would it put our sailors at risk, I doubt whatever we do will influence what Draneth does in the future. He has already made his choices.”

  “In which case he already will or will not abuse your sailors, should he capture any,” Kel said.

  “True, but Dumbarten still acts with honor, even if Spagrom has never done so.” Penelope waved her hand. “As Markus’s envoy, it’s my decision. I do not discount your opinion, Kel, but I know my nephew. He will not be pleased if we violate the code he personally swore to uphold.”

  Kel nodded. “And that, Princess, is more than enough reason to defer to you.”

  “Thank you.” She motioned her commander to come closer. “The sailors will go back to Dreth as prisoners of war. King Markus must decide what to do with them. I’ll take them back myself to ensure they’re confined properly.”

  “As you say, Your Highness.” The man saluted. “What of the slaves?”

  “Yes, what of them?” She turned to Farrell. “Did you carry through on your promise to free them?”

  “Not exactly.” He shrugged. “I told them I would free them, but they are a seedy lot. More than a few deserve their fate.”

  “How do I decide who to free and who is a criminal?”

  “Ask them why they’re here,” Farrell suggested.

  Penelope rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time to truth spell a hold full of slaves.”

  “You won’t have to. One of the Arlefor guards can tell if someone is lying.” Farrell pointed to the warrior standing guard outside the pen. “Have him go with one of your marines and ask.”

  She mulled his suggestion for a few seconds and then nodded. “Commander, assign a pair of marines to escort the Arlefor. Find out which of the slaves ought not to be there and take them to the Wave Racer. Leave the others here. We’ll figure out how to guard them later.”

  “Apply the right magical protections and they will have no options but to behave,” Kel said. “Without a wizard, their ability to thwart even the most basic obedience spells will be limited.”

  Farrell let Kel and Penelope work out the final details. He left them and made his way to Hendris’s side.

  “Are you ready to go home?” he asked.

  “I still can’t believe this is real.” Hendris shook his head. “No one ever escapes from slavery. We all tried to keep hope, but seeing one man after another die made it hard.”

  “This is real.” Farrell smiled. “However, I can’t take you home right away.”

  Hendris’s expression changed immediately. “Why not?”

  “Many reasons, but foremost is I neglected a very important matter to come rescue you. I can’t delay it any longer.” Farrell understood the man’s fear. He wouldn’t be free until he was home. “But don’t worry. I’ll take you off this ship myself before I leave for my mission. You can clean up and recover some before I take you back to Bowient. I doubt you want your mother to see you like this.”

  Hendris wore filthy rags that only partially covered his gaunt frame. “Where are you taking me?”

  “The naval base on Trag. It’s an island off the coast of Dumbarten where the survivors of Yar-del’s navy took refuge.”

  “Is it safe?” Hendris didn’t appear happy with the destination.

  “Very,” Farrell said. “They’re under the protection of Dumbarten.”

  “I don’t want to go back to an oar.” Hendris shivered.

  “You won’t, I promise. Let me tell my friends I’m taking you off the ship, and then we’ll leave.”

  He walked toward Kel and Penelope who were in conversation with Vinod. “I’m going to take Hendris to Trag,” he said. “When I get back, we can go take care of your errand.”

  “Excellent.” Kel nodded.

  Penelope arched an eyebrow at them. “Where are you going?”

  “To recover a few of my things,” Kel answered.

  “Oh?” she asked suspiciously. “Where would those be?”

  “Well hidden,” Kel said.

  “That’s all? ‘Well hidden’?” Her voice had risen enough that soldiers looked in their directi
on.

  “If I revealed the hiding place, it would no longer be a secret.” Kel’s patronizing tone only added to the tension.

  “By the Six!” She threw her arms out, and more Dumbarten marines came on deck. “You’re an annoying old codger. When you needed my help, you had no problem asking. But now that I’ve given my aid, you refuse to answer simple questions.”

  “Sometimes things are better left unknown.” Kel’s tone said more than his words.

  She drew herself up straighter. “I am not a commoner that you need to hide details from. I’m a princess of the House of Hevnor and—”

  “Yes, I know, and I’m Hevnor’s elder brother and king of Yar-del, and Farrell is high king of the dwarves.” He pointed to Farrell’s chest plate for emphasis. “We’re all very important people, and we all keep secrets. I’ve not asked you to divulge yours. Do me the courtesy of not asking me to tell you mine.”

  “Penelope.” Farrell held up a hand and stood between them. “I promise to tell you everything when we get back.”

  “Why not now?”

  He met her steely gaze. “You won’t like the answer.”

  She opened her mouth to protest. Farrell added, “Please let it go, Penelope. You have my word I’ll answer all your questions when we return.”

  “If he allows you to return to Dumbarten when you’re finished.” She pointed to Kel.

  “I’ll come see you before I collect Hendris to take him home.”

  “Let me take him to Dreth,” she said. “Then you won’t need to make a special trip.”

  “I don’t want to impose on you and Marisa.” Farrell knew his halfhearted attempt to divert her wouldn’t work.

  “Nonsense, he’ll get far better care in Dreth than on Trag.”

  “Fine, but I want to take him before we depart. He needs to get away from this ship.” When she nodded, he returned to Hendris.

  “Come, my friend, we’re going.” He offered Hendris his hand. “There’s been a slight change in plans. Princess Penelope decided I need to take you to her estate rather than Trag. I hope that’s acceptable.”

  Hendris mouthed the words Princess Penelope and nodded dumbly.

  “Grand Master Kel,” Farrell called over his shoulder, “will you check on the wizards to be certain my spells are adequate?”

  His grandfather nodded. “I will, though I’m certain they’ll need no adjustments.”

  Penelope led the way onto the Dumbarten warship while Farrell assisted Hendris. Twice he struggled to prevent himself from gagging at the man’s smell.

  “Hold a moment,” Penelope said. “If you’re coming into my home, I need to clean you up some.”

  Without waiting for Hendris to consent, Penelope waved her staff around the bewildered man. A tiny flash from the tip of the staff startled him, but he remained calm. In seconds his clothing became like new and his general appearance had improved. He also no longer smelled.

  “You can bathe and shave when we get to the manor,” she said. “But at least now you’re presentable.”

  Hendris looked uncomfortable as Penelope busied herself creating the Door. Farrell leaned closer and said, “She didn’t mean it as it came out. You’re about to walk into her home; she wanted you to be a bit less self-conscious.”

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “My family is of no importance and could never have convinced a princess of Dumbarten to rescue me.”

  Farrell had expected the question. “Your family didn’t convince Dumbarten to act. I did.”

  He gave Hendris an abridged version of what happened. “Who are you?” Hendris asked.

  “I’m the Champion of the Six.” He let his words sink in before he continued. “Whether she knew it or not, your mother may have saved the entire world with her simple act of kindness. Had I killed that man, I might have descended into darkness and away from the path the Six set for me. Neither could I dwell on what I’d done. Anoria—your mother—helped me see why I can’t let my shame paralyze me.”

  For the first time since Farrell had met him, Hendris smiled. “She’s an amazing woman.”

  “That she is,” Farrell said. The Door was open, so he motioned for them to go. “Let me get you to Dreth so I can handle what I have delayed too long.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Farrell waited patiently as Argus and Teberus gave the assembled force last-minute instructions. It had taken the better part of a day to organize the expedition once they sent word to Rastoria. Mindful of his grandfather’s state, he and Kel spent the night at Kel’s house and left before sunrise to meet the Rastorian army. Anxious to begin, Farrell was calm compared to Kel.

  Farrell put a hand on Kel’s shoulder. “Relax, Grandfather. We’re almost home.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Kel said. “You didn’t build the city from the first stone to the last. This was my home for close to nine hundred years. It chafes me that my beautiful city must endure Meglar’s foul touch.”

  “Our forces are ready, Lord Farrell,” Teberus said. “We’ll follow you once you give the word.”

  “Very well.” Farrell went over the plan in his head again. “Once the shield is down, I’ll signal you to join us. Flood the city with as much water as it will hold. I want to flush Meglar’s stench from the stones if I can.”

  “It shall be as you ask, Chosen.” Teberus’s grin showed even he wasn’t immune to the call of battle.

  Farrell returned the smile. “Stay close, Grandfather. After we breach the defenses, I’ll need you to direct me.”

  “Though I know you are nervous, please do not lecture me like a novice. I’m well aware of my role.” Kel’s attempt at a smile faded almost instantly. “I need you to stay focused and stick to the plan. Miceral, your mother, your teachers, the heads of all Six temples, Nerti, Rothdin, and a host of others will already be angry I talked you into this excursion. If any harm comes to you, they will kill me in a most unpleasant way. See that you stay unharmed.”

  “Now whose nerves are showing?” He winked at Kel.

  Farrell connected to the water and drew energy into himself. Despite the rapid flow, his armor drank thirstily.

  “You do not need to gorge yourself, young master,” Teberus said. “Connected to the water, you will not run out of energy.”

  “Old habits die hard, Master Teberus,” Farrell said. “That and it’s still easier to access power inside me or my armor than to draw it from the water.”

  Farrell surveyed the force King Clayden loaned him for the mission. Several thousand Arlefors arranged themselves in an odd formation for as far back as he could see. Teberus led dozens of wizards to support the soldiers. They also planned to push as much of the ocean as they could into the city proper.

  Kel held out his hand and Farrell accepted. Closing his eyes, Farrell focused on their plan to bring down Meglar’s shield. He unleashed his will and propelled himself and Kel upward at an astounding pace. Surrounded by water, the only hint they neared the surface was an increase in the amount of light around them.

  Dragging enough water in his wake to fill a large pond, Farrell forced himself and Kel to the top of the geyser. He released Kel’s hand when they reached the crest of the water. The wave broke onto the shield surrounding Yar-del City, and the pair rode the water toward their destination.

  The water spread out over the bubble, and he and Kel brought more with them. As he walked across the barrier, the water began to rise up his boots. He cleared the water from around the apex and drew his staff.

  The shield was a variation of the first shield he erected outside Northhelm. It didn’t surprise him that Meglar mimicked his efforts. That he managed to get the copy nearly correct concerned Farrell. If Meglar could replicate that shield without capturing it, had he learned how to duplicate the self-generating shields as well?

  “Here is the center.” Kel pointed to a spot in the area devoid of water. He scratched the surface of the shield with his staff, and a blood-red X remained when he finished.
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br />   Fortunately for them, Meglar’s shield proved less effective than the original. More importantly, Farrell and Kel understood the theory behind the spell better than Meglar. Kel only needed a brief examination of the barrier to devise a strategy to bring it down.

  Grasping his staff in the center, Farrell used all his enhanced strength to drive the metal end down in a swift, fluid strike. The magically reinforced platinum tip struck the spot Kel designated and pushed itself into the energy.

  The area sparkled as Farrell focused a tremendous burst of power through his staff. By striking at the top, Farrell pushed his energy against the shields, pushing the latter backward. Kel speculated that either the shield would explode under the stress or the energy would be forced back to the generation point. Either would gain them entrance, but the latter would cause widespread destruction in the vicinity of the spell’s origin.

  Farrell’s attack radiated from his staff and created a counterpulse to the energy that created the shield. Unable to handle the stress, the shield failed. A brilliant burst of energy rocked the ground directly below their position. The shield pulsed once and disappeared. With nothing to hold it up, thousands of gallons of cold seawater crashed down into the city.

  “The shield is down, Lord Argus. Begin your attack,” Farrell said as he coughed to expel the water from his lungs. Kel continued to draw a steady steam of water and send it raging into Yar-del. Together they rode the roaring torrents in a controlled descent.

  When they reached the street, Farrell separated his staff into two parts and headed north. He took control of the water already in the city and turned it into a river that he directed. With Kel providing directions, they rode the current deeper into Yar-del City.

  The destruction of the shield shocked the Chamdon from their hibernation. Farrell inundated the first pen they came to with a huge wave. The tortured beings struggled in vain against the power of the ocean unleashed. A few managed to find solid footing but had no way to threaten them.

  He felt magic behind him. A dozen Arlefors, accompanied by two wizards rode the water a couple of lengths behind them. The soldiers wore the crest of the royal house of Rastoria.