Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Good.” He gave her a hug. “I’m ready to go home.”

  Kel nodded once. “I thought you would be.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Miceral?” Farrell called out as he emerged from his workroom. Kel and Hendris followed a step behind. Hearing no answer, he reached out mentally. “Miceral? I’m back.”

  “Farrell!” Farrell felt the smile in Miceral’s greeting. “I’m handling the afternoon complaint session. I’ll check with Father to see if he can relieve me soon.”

  “Tell him I would count it as a personal favor.” Farrell smiled from ear to ear. “I really missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. See you soon.”

  Miceral broke the link. “He’s handling the afternoon petitions.”

  “Oh yes, that.” Kel made a face of disapproval. “Without a doubt my least favorite chore. My advisors told me I was so cranky that many times petitioners would seek a resolution, any resolution, rather than bring their prayer to me.”

  Farrell laughed. “Which no doubt stiffened your resolve to be even crankier the next time.”

  “Absolutely.” Kel looked weary.

  “Get some rest,” Farrell said. “You look tired.”

  “That’s because I am tired,” Kel said, a distant look in his eyes. “I intend to go to sleep after a hot bath and a cold ale.”

  Farrell nodded. “Do you need to go right now?”

  “No, child, I can wait a moment.” Kel patted Farrell’s face. “See to your guest. I’ll be fine until then.”

  Farrell poked his head out the door and found the corridor empty. Despite all the complaints about the ever-present guards, he recognized how useful they were. Reverting to his routine prior to the posting of dwarf guards, he sent a spell in search of a page.

  “I didn’t let the captain of my guard know when I’d be back, so there’s no one standing watch over the door,” he said to Hendris. “No worries, I sent for a page. One will be here shortly.”

  “I’m sorry to be such a bother,” Hendris said.

  “This isn’t even an inconvenience.” Farrell motioned toward the sitting room. “We can have a seat while we wait.”

  Hendris was worlds better than when Farrell collected him from Penelope and Marisa. Two days at their estate helped immensely. He was still too thin, but clean and shaven, he lost the countenance of death he’d worn when they met. The promise of living his life again did much to mask the damage done by his time at the oar.

  “When the staff gets here, they’ll take you to your rooms,” Farrell said to pass the time. “I fear they won’t be as nice as the ones the princess and Lady Marisa lent you.”

  Hendris laughed. “Compared to what I had three days ago, it’ll be a palace.”

  Farrell nodded. “Though I’m certain Penelope had her healers examine you, my chief healer is probably the best one in the world. I’d like her to make sure there’s nothing wrong that time and food can’t fix.”

  “Did I ever mention I hate going to the healers?” Hendris shivered and shook his head.

  “Then I’ll apologize in advance. Master Heather is a wonderful healer, but she’s all business. Perhaps I should ask her to assign someone else.”

  “No.” Kel said it softly, but it was final. “As you said, she is the finest healer on Nendor. Gruff? Yes, but she will ensure nothing gets missed.”

  “Ok, once Master Heather clears you, I’ll make arrangements to get you home. I’d do it immediately, but Kel and I have been gone for a while, and I need to make sure everything is okay. My apologies, but your rescue was a bit unexpected, and I didn’t plan the aftermath very well.”

  “Do what you must. I’m just grateful to you for freeing me.” Hendris’s face did not match his words.

  Farrell nodded. “Your patience is appreciated. If it will ease your anxiety, I should be ready to take you home the day after tomorrow at the latest. Besides my own affairs, I also need to get permission from Father Lingum to use the temple to bring you home. Otherwise I’ll need to find a different route.”

  A knock on the door ended the discussion. Farrell left Kel and his guest and returned moments later with a teenage girl dressed in the blue and yellow of Yar-del.

  “Hendris, this young lady will escort you to your rooms.” Farrell smiled to reassure him. “I’ll see that someone is stationed nearby should you need anything.”

  “Thank you again, my lord.” Hendris bowed and followed the page as she walked off.

  “You did well, Halloran. I’m very proud of you.” Kel used his hands to push up from the chair. “Tomorrow we can sort through the books, weapons, and other items we recovered.”

  “And explain to everyone where we went.” Farrell dreaded that discussion.

  “Indeed.” Kel’s expression matched Farrell’s feelings. “That ought to be a festive event.”

  “Why can’t they be more like you and me? Instead all I ever get are sour looks, lectures, and cautionary reminders.”

  “Child,” he said affectionately, “we’ve been over this before. Balance is a vital necessity. Their caution is the perfect foil to our adventurous streak.”

  Farrell raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Don’t you mean reckless streak?”

  “Though I know you joke, I did not,” Kel said. “That would imply we take no precautions, which is not true.”

  Farrell laughed at the distinction without difference. “Sleep well, Grandfather. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You rest as well.” Kel held up a finger. “You may be younger and not have my issues, but you exerted ten times or more the effort I did this trip. Even you can’t keep that up forever.”

  “No, but I can for a bit longer.” He opened the door and watched Kel walk down the hall.

  He knew Horgon would relieve Miceral, but it would take some time for him to get away. That left him a bit of idle time to fill.

  “Bath, nap, or read?” he whispered despite the suite being empty. He ruled out reading; he didn’t feel like concentrating. A nap might turn into a long sleep, and he didn’t want to be hard to wake up when Miceral returned. “Bath it is.”

  The sun hovered just above the tree line west of Haven. He’d dozed off in the tub by the time Miceral arrived—something he should have anticipated—but it wasn’t a deep, hard sleep. Rather than let Bren and Geena interrupt them when they returned, he and Miceral went for a walk. It took over an hour to recap the events of his and Kel’s trip.

  “What possessed you to invade Yar-del City?” Miceral asked, as they waded through the tall grass west of Haven.

  “That’s the first thing you comment on?” Farrell laughed. “Not Arritisa kissing me? Or killing a priestess of Neldin and then meeting Neldin? What about learning that Meglar is planning to invade Dumbarten?”

  “One place is as good as any to start.” Miceral’s comment left no doubt this was going to be a difficult discussion.

  “I told you, Kel wanted to recover his weapons and books.”

  “That doesn’t mean you had to go.”

  Now Farrell understood why this topic was first. “I needed to protect him.”

  “He’s capable of taking care of himself.” Miceral shook his head. “When you left, you were going to Rastoria. There was no mention of launching an invasion on Yar-del.”

  “I also didn’t plan to go to Bowient, either.” He snuck a glance and saw Miceral’s scowl. “Things just happened.”

  “Farrell, things don’t just happen,” Miceral practically shouted. “Especially not an impromptu invasion of your old home.”

  “Honestly, Ral, when we left, I had no idea Kel wanted to go to Yar-del.”

  Miceral grabbed Farrell’s hand. “I know you didn’t plan to go when you left, but you didn’t need to go just because he suggested the idea.”

  Farrell led them to a large rock near a trio of tall pine trees. He hopped up and wiggled to get comfortable. “What if I’d let him go without me and he died? Forget how much second-guess
ing I’d get from everyone, I’d have lost the ability to learn from him. Don’t you see I had to go?”

  “What about trying to talk him out of it?” Miceral climbed up and sat next to him. “I’m confident he’d have abandoned the idea without your help.”

  “You’re wrong. Once he had the support of the Arlefors, he’d have gone no matter what I said.”

  Miceral shook his head. “What if you’d died or were captured? What then?”

  “That was a risk at Bowient, too.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or Agloth or anything else I’ve done. This needed to be done.”

  “Needed?”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “And the trip was a brilliant success. You can’t believe the amount of books, weapons, and magical things Kel had in that room.”

  “That doesn’t change things.” Miceral jumped down. “This isn’t comfortable. Can we move?”

  “Of course.” Farrell searched the area and pointed toward a spot under the tree.

  They sat across from each other, and Farrell took charge of the conversation.

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Don’t think you can avoid—”

  “I’m done talking about that, Miceral. It’s over and we’re not going to agree.” He watched the flash of anger cross Miceral’s face and used the silence to push on. “I want to talk about what happened with Neldin.”

  It took a moment for Miceral’s affect to change. “Sorry.”

  “I’m sorry I got short, but this is weighing on me.”

  “Why?” Miceral grabbed Farrell’s hand. “Just because He wants you to join Him doesn’t mean He can make you.”

  “No, He can’t, but what if I’m predisposed to be like… my father?”

  Miceral shook his head. “Is that what all this is about?”

  “Don’t dismiss this so quickly.” Farrell tried to take his hand back, but Miceral held on.

  “Why not? You’re nothing like Meglar.”

  He refused to meet Miceral’s gaze. “Kel said the same, but I’m not sure. Neldin saw into my heart. There’s always been a darkness there I couldn’t put into words until He named it. I am a child of the House of Vedri, with all that comes with that birthright.”

  “Farrell, that is madness.” He leaned closer until Farrell had to look at him. “Each of the Six has judged you and found you not like Meglar.”

  “What if I—?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Miceral, stop!” He turned away again. “You don’t know. I don’t know that for sure. Can either of us be certain Neldin won’t be able to sway me with His words?”

  “He won’t because He can’t.” Miceral grabbed Farrell’s face and made him look up. “I know you. You’re a good person.”

  Farrell didn’t have the will to argue, especially since it wouldn’t do any good. “Thank you, but I need you to promise me that if you see any hint that I’m changing, you’ll tell Klissmor.”

  “Klissmor? Why him?”

  He’d hoped Miceral would understand so he didn’t have to sound it out. “Because he has the ability to force his way into my mind and destroy it before I do something the world will regret.”

  “Farrell . . .”

  “No, I’m serious. This should be an easy promise for you. If I’m as good as you say, you’ll never have to have that conversation with Klissmor. But if you’re wrong, you can’t let me join Meglar. Together we’d be impossible to stop.”

  Farrell knew he’d cornered his life partner. If he refused, it meant he didn’t believe Farrell was as good a person as he said.

  “Is it that important to you that I promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that convince you that you’re not evil at your core?” Miceral smiled as he flipped it back on Farrell.

  “No. It means if it’s really there, I’ve not given in to it yet. I know you love me and this is asking a lot, but if it comes to this, I won’t be that person you love anymore.” Miceral’s expression changed, but before he could respond, Farrell added, “I know this is terrible to say, but do it for Geena.”

  “What nonsense is that?”

  He replayed Kel’s conversation with Meglar. “She’s a member of the House of Kel. If something happens to me, she’s the heir to the title.”

  “Do you see how silly this conversation is? You’d never hurt her. Ever.”

  “Meglar would.” He let that sink in for a moment. “He’d know about her from me. That’s a risk you can’t take.”

  The silence lingered until Miceral held up his hands. “Fine. Since I’m certain I’ll never have to do it, I promise I’ll do as you ask.”

  Hopefully pointing out the danger to their children would make Miceral keep the promise. “And I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to never put you in that position. It’s just . . . I can’t take the risk, no matter how unlikely.”

  “I understand.” Miceral kissed his forehead. “And it’s also why I’m certain I’ll never have to make good on my promise.”

  Farrell smiled. He wanted to believe it would never come to that. “Thank you.”

  “So, what’s this I hear that you’re as strong as me?” Miceral winked, and the tension slowly faded into the background.

  Farrell laughed. “I never said I was as strong as you. I said strong like you.”

  “How strong are you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. How could he measure that? “I should probably find out at some point.”

  “Yes, we should.” Miceral raised an eyebrow. “Can’t have you tossing me around at the wrong moment, now could we?”

  “Dirty old man.” Farrell smiled and shifted around until he could lean back against Miceral. As he’d hoped, Miceral pulled him closer.

  “I missed holding you.” He kissed the back of Farrell’s head.

  “Maybe not as much as I missed being held.” He pushed a bit closer and wrapped his arms over Miceral’s. “Are you upset?”

  “Upset? About what?”

  “That I’m stronger than a normal person.”

  “Why should that upset me?” Miceral squeezed a bit tighter. “It means I don’t have to hold back . . . during sparring.”

  Farrell snorted at the failed attempt to cover his real meaning. Miceral had never held back because Farrell had used magic to increase his strength. “Moving on . . . when you’re fighting, does time slow?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “In Bowient, someone fired an arrow at Cendreth. Everything slowed down, so much that I could see the feathers on the fletching clearly as they spun.” He pointed his index finger horizontally and demonstrated how fast the arrow moved. Using his left hand, he grabbed his finger. “Then it happened again during the fight with the Chamdon. Everything slowed down again. Marisa suggested I ask if this is how you perceive things.”

  Miceral shook his head. “What you describe isn’t how I see things. Time remains constant from one moment to the next. I think Muchari process images quicker, and we have faster reflexes.”

  “That isn’t helpful.”

  “I wish I could explain it to you. Did you ask the Arlefors? If Kel’s correct and you were given their abilities, maybe this is how they see things.”

  “I asked them,” Farrell said. “Teberus and Argus both said the same thing as you; time is constant.”

  “So now we have strength and speed to test.”

  Farrell laughed but didn’t take the bait this time. Instead he sat up, waved his hand, and two swords landed in the dirt in front of them. “Should we do some testing?”

  Miceral stood up and stretched. “Yes, but put your armor on first.”

  “You do the same,” Farrell said. “Now if I slip up, I can send you to the healers with one mistake.”

  “Fair enough. Can you fetch mine?” Miceral tested the weight of the swords by swinging them.

  “Do you want me to put it on you or just retrieve it?” Farrell called his armor and used the spell to put
it on him.

  “On me, if you can.”

  “Easily done.” The spell was a bit trickier than putting it on himself, but with a little concentration, he managed it without trouble.

  Miceral handed Farrell a sword. “Can you dull the edges, just in case?”

  He’d already made sure they wouldn’t cut anyone, but Farrell flicked his left hand and created a brief flash along the edges for effect. They stretched for a few minutes and then squared off to fight.

  Farrell readied himself and let Miceral make the first move. The attack came in a blur of motion Farrell could barely follow. His attempt to jump back left him twenty feet from Miceral and flat on his back.

  “That is an interesting move.” Miceral laughed. “I’d advise you not to use that in a real fight.”

  Farrell stood and spat the dust from his mouth. “I’ll try to remember that sage advice.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Your attack was faster than normal. I tried to jump back and ended up here.”

  “Hmm.” Miceral pushed his sword into the dirt. “Maybe swords aren’t a good idea until we determine what you can do.”

  “I can jump like an oversized toad.”

  “Toads are cuter.”

  “Funny.” He sneered mockingly at Miceral. “The frustrating part—aside from flying backward and hitting the ground like I’ve been thrown from a horse—is that this ‘talent’ only works when it wants to. There’s no predictability.”

  “Maybe it only works when you’re in danger.”

  “That’s not possible.” Farrell stuck his sword next to Miceral’s. “Assuming it’s a talent, at best it’s an innate ability. It can’t make intelligent assessments of whether I’m in danger or not.”

  “Aren’t you the one who always says nothing is impossible?”

  “First, that was Kel, not me, and second, he said, ‘If something has happened, it isn’t impossible.’”

  “Fine, but isn’t that the case here?”

  “Not exactly.” Farrell brushed some dirt off his arm. “We’re not debating if it happened; we know it did. The question is, why?”

  Miceral shrugged. “This is beyond me. Perhaps the other wizards or maybe Baylec will have an answer.”