For three days the Bendari treated him as an honored guest. He’d been allowed to do little more than eat his meals, and he suspected they’d have fed him had he asked. Esward wasn’t as bad as the rest, but even he didn’t treat Farrell as an equal. So he spent his time training and learning more about the Bendari.
He found their clan structure interesting. Rank was not hereditary, it was merit-based. The equivalent of an Arvendi chief was a “kar.” Most interesting was the collective worship to the Six. There were no individual temples or clerics. As fascinating as that was, he didn’t need more than a couple of hours to learn all he wanted to know. Even Esward had run out of things to talk about after the second day.
Waiting for the last kar to arrive was frustrating. Tradition might dictate the kars arrive before the Shaman, but Farrell didn’t have time to waste on a latecomer. The trip was for him to learn, not sit in a camp waiting for people. Kel set time aside each day to talk and gave Farrell books to read, but they could have stayed at home for that. Farrell suggested they return to Haven until the Shaman arrived, but an angry glare from Kel ended that discussion.
Moving through his regimen, he forgot his boredom. Accounting for Farrell’s new strength and speed, Baylec had given him different exercises to practice on the trip. Though he had no one to spar with, he still worked up a sweat. As he turned into his second-to-last swing, he saw a trio of white snow panthers perched on a rise.
Farrell planted his staff in the snow. The way the three watched unnerved him. He inclined his head to acknowledge his audience. There was a curiosity that implied they understood Farrell’s actions. A moment later, without returning his greeting, they turned and walked away.
Rather than complete the last few moves, Farrell pulled his staff from the snow and headed back to camp. Halfway up a hill, he met Esward walking his way.
“New-day greetings, Favored One.”
Farrell found the use of Favored One annoying, but at least he’d stopped bowing. “Good morning, Esward.”
“I come bearing good news. She Who Guides arrived in the middle of the night.”
“Did the Shaman arrive with her?” Farrell tried not to sound too anxious.
“No, but he is traveling with members of the final clan. He should be here by midday meal.”
Given they hadn’t had morning meal yet, Farrell sighed. “That’s better than I expected when I awoke.”
“Life in the Endless Snows moves at a different pace than other places. We arrive when it is time.”
“That’s because you define ‘it is time’ by when you arrive at a place.”
“As I said, life is different here.” If he took Farrell’s words as an insult, he didn’t show it. “Morning meal is ready. I would be glad if you would eat with me this morning.”
Farrell blinked but didn’t answer right away. Why had he felt the need to ask when they’d eaten every meal together since he arrived? “Of course.”
Breakfast, like almost every meal, consisted of fish. Farrell would have eaten some of his supplies, but they’d be replenishing them in Bendar. Not that they served the same thing every meal, but they were close enough.
In the past they ate at a common table with other Bendari, but this time Esward led them to a spot set apart.
“My grandfather will be here soon.” Esward ran his spoon through the food in his bowl. “He comes to meet you.”
Farrell finished chewing and swallowed the thick stew. “I assumed as much. Kel told me the Shaman wouldn’t accept me as Champion without seeing for himself.”
“Indeed.”
Farrell scooped up another mouthful and then turned his spoon sideways to let it drop back into the bowl. Esward raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry. It’s good, it’s just I’d prefer something else for breakfast.”
“The stew provides us with energy. Here in the snows it takes a lot to stay warm.” He eyed Farrell. “But since you don’t feel the cold, perhaps something lighter would be better.”
“I’m fine. I have food in my bags.” He took another bite to be polite but nearly gagged on the fishy taste. He swallowed without spitting it out but decided he’d fetch something from Haven later. Farrell slid his hand into his pocket to find the Eye. “Is your family coming with your grandfather?”
“My family is here.” Esward raised his bowl and slurped the remaining contents. “They came with their clan.”
“Isn’t their clan yours as well? And the Shaman’s?”
“The Shaman belongs to all Bendari. As his expected successor, I left my clan to become a member of all.”
“My apologies, I thought . . .” Farrell didn’t know what he meant anymore. “Does the Shaman always come from the same clan?”
“No. She Who Guides selects the Shaman. It can be a descendant of the current one or someone unrelated.”
“Is your father a shaman too?”
“No.” Esward smiled. “The Six must have known the Shaman would live a long life. None of his children were gifted, but three cousins and myself are.”
“Who decided which of you would take his place?”
“She Who Guides always selects the Shaman, though, as I said, I am only his expected successor.” He sounded so matter-of-fact about it he might have been describing how to walk in deep snow. “She is looking forward to speaking to you once the Shaman arrives.”
“Is there anything I should do to prepare?”
“You are so unique to the world that I don’t have an answer. She Who Guides has never asked to meet with anyone. When she wants to learn more about a person, she does and lets us know afterward.”
That reminded Farrell of the Six. “Then I won’t worry. Either she’ll like what she finds or she won’t.”
Esward appeared surprised but then chuckled. “Agreed. As we say, worry won’t stop the snow.”
“A wise saying.” Farrell closed his eyes and asked the Eye to show him what food was available from Haven. His mouth started to salivate when he found meat and cheese pastries.
After years of his summoning food and drink, the kitchen staff were used to him taking food. But the chief cook did ask he let them know, so he sent a message to them before he summoned four warm buns.
When he opened his eyes, Esward watched him. “From your bags?”
“No, I fetched these from the kitchen in Haven.” He picked up the one closest to him and slid the plate to Esward. “They’re pork and cheese baked in flaky bread. Take one, please.”
His host hesitated, so Farrell took a bite. “Best to eat them now before they cool off too much.”
Esward pulled off his glove and selected one of the steaming rolls. Sniffing it first, he took a tentative bite. His doubtful expression morphed into a grin. “It’s wonderful.”
Smiling, Farrell finished his in three bites and reached for another. “If you liked it, you may have the last one.”
“But you didn’t eat your breakfast.” Esward’s heart wasn’t in his protest. “You should eat it.”
“I can get more another day. Please.” He pushed the plate closer.
Esward snatched the roll as if he feared the offer might be rescinded. He matched Farrell bite for bite, and when they were gone, Farrell felt a pang of regret. He couldn’t take any more today, but it was worth it to see his friend enjoy something new.
Hopefully his time with She Who Guides went as well.
The Shaman entered camp with none of the fanfare Farrell expected. Although the people acknowledged his passing, they didn’t linger once they’d shown their respect. He wouldn’t have known the Shaman arrived if Esward hadn’t told him he’d be in this group.
Flemin, Kel, and Nerti came for Farrell just before the Shaman and his party. As when they’d met Esward after the fight, Nerti insisted he sit on her back. Though it seemed rude, Farrell did as she instructed.
The party stopped in front of the four guests. An older man, unbent by age, moved toward them from the middle of the pack. He was shorter
than Farrell by a few finger widths and while he wasn’t fat, he was burly. His long gray hair was pulled back in the fashion of his people.
When he got to Kel and Flemin, he touched his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He lowered them to the gold pendant around his neck and brushed them against the red jewel before he extended his hands out toward his guests.
“Ancient One, you honor our snow with your presence,” he said. “It is good you have come. The time for change is upon us.”
Kel mimicked the hand greeting. “It is good to finally meet you, Shaman.”
Moving his attention down, the Shaman smiled at Flemin. “Ever faithful, ever true. Your fates have moved inextricably closer.”
“So it was before, so it has come to pass.”
The Shaman moved over and stood in front of Nerti. He repeated his greeting, only this time he bowed as he extended his hands. “Though we’ve never met, you must be Queen Nerti. The Bendari welcome you, Eternal Queen.”
“Unfortunate as the circumstances may be, it is always good to speak to She Who Guides and the Shaman who helps her protect her people.”
Before the Shaman could address him, Farrell jumped down. The older man almost kept his surprise in check, but not quite.
“Thank you for the respect you show, Favored One. I have done nothing to earn your favor, but it is a sign of the humility She Who Guides spoke of.”
“Why wasn’t I supposed to dismount?”
“Now you ask for my advice?” The reproach in her voice told him he’d made a real mistake. “One only stands for a friend, an equal, or a superior. Though we are guests in their home, the Shaman is not your friend, a superior, or your equal.”
“It is my honor to be welcomed among the clans.”
“I believe this is how you greet each other in your land.” He held out his arm. “I am Basje, Shaman of the Bendari.”
“Farrell.” He accepted the arm and shook. “As your grandson told me, I have many titles but prefer to wear none of them.”
“Though you would shed them, they follow you wherever you go, Favored One.” Basje held on for a moment longer. “Come, let us speak more in my yurt while we wait for She Who Guides to join us.”
He led them to a large tent Farrell hadn’t noticed before. Sunlight reflected off the shiny gray surface, forcing Farrell to cover his eyes. A pair of shamans pulled aside the flaps and Basje led them inside. Nerti and Flemin joined them, and other than Farrell, no one seemed surprised.
“It is fortuitous you arrived when you four did. The Bendari are in need of your help.” Basje gestured for his guests to sit on cushions around a small heated rock in the center of the tent. “A young shaman, acting on his own, tried to open a Door before he was ready. Someone on the other side has usurped his work and despite our best efforts, we cannot close it.”
“He didn’t make sure it answered only to him?” Kel asked.
The Shaman nodded. “He said he did, but the results say otherwise.”
“Unless he opened it to a place someone else controlled.” Farrell hadn’t meant to say what he was thinking. The Shaman stared at him in a way that made Farrell uneasy. “Sorry. I know how ridiculous that is.”
“Don’t be. You are correct.”
“I am?” He glanced at Kel, who appeared equally surprised. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.” The Shaman clapped twice and a pair of young men approached with drinks. “We asked the Six for help and I see they answered us.”
Farrell accepted the cup offered to him. “I’m not sure I agree with your logic.”
“It took us many days to reach the conclusion you came to in a moment’s time.” He smiled and took a sip. “That is proof enough we have found our answer.”
Before he could speak, a male, barely out of his teens, bowed and set a plate of food at Farrell’s feet. Basje raised his cup.
“Let us drink to our new friendship. May the Six grant us Their guidance in the trying times ahead.”
Farrell raised his cup and held it a few inches from his mouth while he checked what he’d been given. His nose detected none of the sweet or spicy herbs the Bendari usually had in their water. Everyone else had taken a drink, so he quick gulped down a mouthful.
The water had a slightly metallic taste that he’d come to expect from their drinks. Without the flavoring, Farrell nearly spit it out. Another thing to dislike about Bendari fare.
A ringing sound distorted what Basje was saying and he was vaguely aware that others had entered the tent. When he turned, everything began to spin.
Farrell blinked twice to clear his now-blurry vision and tried to scan his body for drugs. His eyelids drooped and he lost his focus before he could finish his search. “You . . . you . . .”
At the edge of his consciousness, he heard Nerti calling his name. A curtain of darkness surrounded him as he reached for her mind. He fell backward, but nothing stopped his fall.
Farrell opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. How did he get outside? The last thing he remembered, he’d taken a drink, his mind went fuzzy, and—
The Shaman drugged him!
He pushed himself up and tamped down his panic. The snow was gone. He sat in a field of dirt so dry, dust wafted up when he put his hand down. Other than rocks, all he saw was reddish-brown dirt.
It didn’t surprise him when he didn’t see the Shaman’s yurt. This wasn’t Bendar or anywhere else on Nendor he’d ever been.
“Grandfather?”
He forced himself to remain calm when he didn’t get an answer. “Nerti?”
The silence around him and in his mind added to his anxiety. “Nerti. Please answer me. I need your help.”
Wherever he was, it wasn’t good. He and Nerti had communicated half a world apart, so this wasn’t an issue of distance. The ocean had blocked their ability to speak, but he couldn’t think of anything except . . .“Death.”
Hearing his voice reassured him he was alive. That meant either Kel and Nerti were dead or something blocked his ability to reach them. Anything strong enough to kill his grandfather and Nerti wouldn’t have let Farrell live.
The drug Basje gave him might be the cause. He closed his eyes and used a breathing routine to center himself. He’d taken a drink, the yurt spun, and he heard Nerti call him. Then he woke up here, wherever “here” was.
He rubbed his temples. There was something more. The memory evaded him like a bar of wet soap in the tub. The harder he tried to remember, the more it slipped away.
Another deep breath and he cleared his thoughts. The memories flooded to the front of his mind. There hadn’t been any drug; the Shaman had tried to force himself into Farrell’s mind. The attempt failed, but the attack had caught Farrell off guard and caused him to faint. That didn’t ring true, but Farrell had checked his body and found no sign of drugs.
Farrell had woken on the floor of Basje’s yurt and found the Shaman hovering over him. The Shaman apologized for what had happened. Once Farrell recovered, the Shaman had pulled aside a curtain.
Four chanting shamans sat at right angles to each other, surrounding a Door that looked wrong. Something encased the Door . . . not a shield, but similar.
To examine the problem on the other side, the Shaman suggested they go through the Door. Kel had laughed at how quickly Farrell had agreed. The chance to see something new did appeal to him.
Basje said Farrell needed to be in contact with him to pass through the protection around the Door. He extended his hand, which Farrell accepted, and they made contact with the energy. That was the last he remembered.
Solving that mystery raised others. Where was the Door? Why had he ended up in the middle of a field? How had he gotten here? Where was Basje?
Years of training took hold and he steadied himself. Out of habit he casted about to collect energy. It didn’t shock him that the area was empty. Before he moved on, he realized it wasn’t just picked clean, there was nothing at all.
Even the mo
st barren desert contained some life. It might be too small to see, but it was there. Those tiny organisms created energy, and while it was too small to harvest, he’d been able to see it. Here there was nothing.
Another question he couldn’t answer. The best place to start was to find Basje. He stood, dusted himself off, and looked around. A series of low dunes blocked his view to the left, so he set off in that direction. As he neared the base, he heard voices and armor jingling.
Farrell raised his shields and drew his staff. A moment later six Bendari crested the rise and pointed over Farrell’s head.
“There!” a man shouted.
Farrell turned, but whatever they could see from their vantage point was hidden from him. A tall lanky warrior with gray hair stared at him for a moment. He broke off from the others to approach Farrell.
“I know not who you are, but you must be the one the Shaman had said he would bring to help. I am Dresmun, First Kar of the Gray Panther clan.”
“Where is the Shaman?” Farrell asked. “We came through the Door together, and I don’t know what happened. The next thing I knew, I woke up on my back here.”
“You were lying flat.” He raised his arm parallel to the ground. “The Shaman stood on your chest and did battle with a foul creature of darkness. You flew over this rise and we chased after you. We expected to find the Shaman with you.”
“First Kar! Come quickly!” someone called.
Dresmun ran toward the caller and left Farrell to follow without an explanation. They climbed a low hill and saw Basje lying on his back. The other Bendari surrounded the mystic. Farrell didn’t need his inner sight to know the Shaman was dead. The angle of his head spoke to the cause of death. Clearly his landing was not as gentle as Farrell’s.
He stood on the summit and scanned his surroundings. Beyond the larger dune, he saw the tops of the Bendari camp. Otherwise the world was bleak and brown.
“What is this place?”
“If this is not Neblor, it is a client state,” a new voice said.
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 178