Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  Mindful Barett couldn’t see his true power, Farrell shrugged. “She insulted me, and that is something no dwarf could ignore.”

  “But you’re not a dwarf.” He glanced at the guards a pace behind Farrell. “Are you?”

  “In every way that matters, I am. As king, the honor of every dwarf in Trellham is mine to defend.”

  “As high king, he represents every dwarf on Nendor,” Greigel said.

  Farrell laughed. “Leave it to my guards to remind the world who they defend.”

  “It is not for ourselves, but for the glory of Trellham.”

  “Of course.” Farrell did his best to keep from laughing again. Kel waved him over. “It appears we’re being summoned.”

  “Kel said you can see the lines of a spell,” Pfellcuk said. His eyes danced with excitement. “Can you teach me?”

  “See the lines?” Barett asked. “Is that possible?”

  Farrell ignored the second question to answer Pfellcuk first. “I don’t know. It’s not a talent I need to consciously engage. I just can see it.”

  “All the time?”

  “No, of course not. I have to study something with my wizard’s sight.” Farrell tried to recreate the steps in his mind. “Have you ever looked at a spell and found the source of the magic?”

  “No, but I take it you can.” Pfellcuk glanced at Kel, who shook his head.

  “I told you he is exceptional,” Kel said with a smile.

  Farrell ignored the compliment. “Actually, you have, you just don’t know it.”

  Pfellcuk snickered. “And they called me crazy.”

  “It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. If you study the defenses surrounding a city, you can see the magic, can’t you?”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Then you are doing the same thing, only you’re not looking deep enough. Consider a complicated spell with many steps. Typically you seal the lines as you finish each and combine them when you are done.” He addressed Kel. “Or you can hold them all open and merge them together at the end.”

  Kel chuckled. “Or that.”

  “My point is when you work something with many parts, you can see what you’re holding. Otherwise you couldn’t finish the spell. The lines don’t disappear when you’re finished.” Farrell pulled a magical weapon from his pocket and held it up. “Here, try it on this. Find the magic, then focus until you see the individual threads of the spell.”

  Pfellcuk and Barett stared at the object.

  “Well done,” Kel said. He winked when Farrell looked over. “With a bit of luck, Pfellcuk can use this to end our Chamdon problem.”

  “That’s incredible!” Pfellcuk said. “How did you figure that out? It’s brilliant.”

  “I’ve used that adjective as well,” Kel said.

  Pfellcuk waved his hand. “Yes, yes. I tell people Barett is brilliant, too. No offense, Grandson, but that is brilliant.”

  Barett rolled his eyes. “None taken, Grandfather.”

  “Old friend, he is Their Champion.” Kel motioned for Farrell to put the weapon away. “Did you think They’d choose a conjurer in a traveling fair?”

  “No, of course not, but this—"

  “This isn’t even one of the more amazing things he’s done.”

  “Grandfather….” Farrell glared at Kel, but it didn’t get his attention.

  “He has created self-replicating shields that might never be breached. He found a way to bind the land permanently to a fixed collection vessel. But most amazing of all, Farrell discovered how to look back in time.”

  Pfellcuk’s eyes opened wider, and he shifted his gaze from Kel to Farrell and back. “As in see the past?”

  “The same.” Kel finally faced Farrell. “I apologize if I embarrass you. There are only a few people I can boast to and even fewer who understand the significance of your achievements. Humor an old man. I’m extremely proud of you.”

  Barett clapped Farrell on the back. “It could be worse. When I earned grand master status, Grandfather set off a thirty-minute fireworks’ display over Thyian. It ended with my name in fiery yellow letters etched across the sky.”

  “I warned the king and told your mother first,” Pfellcuk said. “They were some of my finest work. I can share the spell with you if you like.”

  “No!” Farrell waved his hand at the two older wizards. “Don’t give him any ideas.”

  “It isn’t Kel you need worry about, little one,” Nerti said. “Rothdin already tells grand tales of your achievements. With his lifetime to embellish, imagine the story he will produce.”

  “Rather than fight us all, you ought to find a way to accept our praise in a way that won’t make you appear ungrateful.” Kel barely contained his grin.

  Farrell glared at his grandfather again. “Can we focus on why we came here, please?”

  The others laughed for a time until Pfellcuk waved them down. “You need to work on your acceptance a bit, young king. But to answer your question, yes, we should get to our task. Your demonstration has given me a new, more promising path to explore.”

  When the Door closed, Farrell stood in complete darkness. Burcia told him magic wasn’t used in Arritisa’s temple. Here in the heart of Her home, he didn’t dare create a globe of light. It also wasn’t necessary. Either the Goddess would come or he’d go home.

  He didn’t have to wait long before he felt the arrival of a divine presence. Lights flared all around and illuminated the small space. Farrell fturned and found Arritisa’s avatar inches from his face.

  Once the shock wore off, he sank to his knees. “Thank you for coming, Most Holy.”

  “Of course, Chosen. I would help you wherever I can.”

  “As you have done already.”

  The water rippled and the Goddess stood in front of him. “Rise, favored son. I would look upon your face.”

  Farrell did as instructed and stood unflinching before Her gaze. He opened himself to Her, but She didn’t accept the invitation.

  “You’ve changed.” She smiled and touched his cheek. “I am proud of you.”

  All he saw were the terrible things he’d done since he’d last been to Rastoria. None of them worthy of praise. “I’ve done nothing to honor You or Your siblings.”

  “Haven’t you?”

  Hendris’s face formed in the water. When it dissipated, Russen’s youthful image grinned at him. The first kar stared at him next and smiled before Samruel nodded at him.

  “Those are but a fraction of the lives you’ve touched. All are alive today because of you and your will to help others.” Her hand slid slowly down his face. “Why have you returned?”

  “To ask for Your Gift, Blessed Mother.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Do you know why you want it?”

  “To save the world.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I know I need all seven Gifts.”

  Arritisa walked away from him, Her pale-green robe flowing behind as She moved. “You knew that the last time you were here, and I denied you.”

  “The last time You asked me why I wanted Your Gift, and I said because Seritia told me to get them. At the time I didn’t know that I needed them to save the world.”

  “True, but I also challenged you to understand what it will do.”

  “You did, and I don’t know that answer.” He reminded himself to have faith in what he did. “I don’t believe there is any way to know that until I obtain Your Gift.”

  “An interesting suggestion, Chosen.” Her words did nothing to confirm his suspicions.

  “I believe the answer to Your question lies at the bottom of the rubble of Seritia’s temple.” The Goddess’s face remained stoic, but Farrell thought he saw the hint of a smile. “May I have Your Gift?”

  “Again I ask, why do you want it?”

  He hadn’t expected Her to repeat the question, and he didn’t have a different answer. But She didn’t lecture him as She had the last time. Nor d
id She tell him to come back when he’d figured it out. If the need to save the world wasn’t enough, what more was there?

  “I want it because I don’t . . . I can’t fail.”

  “What will you sacrifice to ensure you do not?”

  A deep sadness rushed through him as he realized what She wanted to hear. “Everything I have, Blessed Mother.” Just as he wouldn’t let those creatures reach Bendar, Meglar wouldn’t leave Gharaha alive.

  She trained Her gaze on him again, and when he opened himself to Her, She accepted. The probe was gentle but invasive. A surge of energy filled him that reached the ends of every hair. Even after Her touch left him, he tingled from the experience.

  He hadn’t noticed Arritisa had moved, but She stood in front of him and held out Her hands. Remembering the last time they shared a touch, he tentatively accepted the offer.

  “My siblings and I fervently hope it does not come to that, Chosen.”

  “I understand, but if it does, I swear . . . well, I . . .” He wasn’t sure if he could blush underwater, but his face felt hot. “My apologies, Blessed Mother. It is unseemly to swear in Your presence.”

  Arritisa chuckled and squeezed his fingers tighter. “Perhaps not, but such is the way of beings.”

  The gentle rebuke didn’t help him regain his composure. “I meant to say, you have my word I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure Meglar does not win.”

  The water rippled around him, but he kept his eyes on Arritisa. “I wish I could aid you more, but I’ve done all that I can. In answer to your request, yes, you may have My Gift. You only need take it.”

  “And then find out what to do with them all.”

  “That, too.” She cupped his face and kissed his forehead. “Go with My blessing, Halloran. You have earned it.”

  He’d closed his eyes when Arritisa kissed him, and when he opened them, She was gone. His skin tingled from Her touch.

  “She is very fond of you, Chosen,” Burcia said.

  Her presence explained the movement in the water. “How much did you see?”

  “Enough to know what I must do next.” She walked past him, stepped onto the altar, and went to the backside. Ducking down, Burcia opened a door. A moment later she stood with a book in her hand. “The Blood of Arritisa is in the ruins of Seritia’s temple. This book explains what you need to do.”

  “How is it you can tell me this?”

  “Things happen for reasons none of us understand until the Six want us to know. My role has been to safeguard this book until the Blessed Mother agreed to give someone Her Gift. There are instructions in the book on where to retrieve the Blood.”

  “Doesn’t telling me violate a rule?”

  She smiled and walked closer. “I can’t say. Arritisa didn’t forbid me from reading the book, so I took that to mean I should read it so I’d know what I had. Until today I was never certain I should have done that, but now I see my action was part of Their plan.”

  She held out the book and he accepted it. Nothing else was that easy. “There are no conditions that come with this Gift?”

  “None that were told to me. You must still retrieve it, but with Her blessing that should not be a problem. That, however, will need to wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Your friend Nerti sends you a message. Your mother and your life partner need your assistance. She can explain, but I’ve alerted my brother that you require an army.”

  “I do?”

  “So Nerti said.” She held up her hand. “I know you have many questions, but you must ask them of her. I gave you the message she asked me to pass along.”

  Farrell nodded. “Thank you, Holy Mother.”

  So much for it being that simple. He bowed and walked to where he’d opened his Door. For Nerti to send him a message when he didn’t plan to be gone that long meant it was urgent. Asking for an army meant it was dangerous. And if Miceral and his mother needed his help, he couldn’t waste any more time.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Peter checked his image in the mirror. He hadn’t expected a summons from the king, much less that he attend immediately. Seeing how the shirt pulled across the shoulders, he frowned. His pants were too short, too, but those he could tuck into his boots. Before he could change, someone knocked on the door.

  “I’m sure you look fine,” Princess Penelope said. “This is an audience, not a suitor’s ball.”

  He tugged on the handle and let her in. She ran her eyes up and down, making Peter self-conscious. “It’s a bit small.”

  “Of course it is; you’ve grown,” she said. “Why do you think Marisa sent you to the tailor last week?”

  “I ordered new clothes.” He chewed his lip and looked at his reflection. “I forgot to ask for something suitable for attending court. I have too fancy and too informal.”

  “Turn and face me.”

  Peter did as she asked. Penelope’s right index finger moved back and forth as if she were reading text. “What are you doing?”

  “Be still or your shirt will look like one of Miceral’s.” She pointed at his chest, and Peter felt something tug at his tunic. “There, that ought to fit better. You still need new court clothes, but these will do for today. Let’s go.”

  Feeling more self-conscious than before, Peter followed. Thinking about his clothing, however, was better than wondering why Markus requested his presence. Although he was the crown prince, Belsport’s ambassador handled all official matters.

  Living with Penelope and Marisa also kept him from the king’s attention. Other than the occasional state function, Peter didn’t attend court.

  Wallace and Claire waited in the small room Penelope used to house her Permanent Door to the palace. They stopped talking when the pair entered.

  “You look nice,” Wallace said with a smile. He moved closer to adjust the plain silver circlet on Peter’s head. “You’ll be the handsomest person in court.”

  Peter’s cheeks burned. “Only because you’re not coming with me.”

  “Lenore’s toenails,” Claire said. She glanced at her mother and shook her head. “See what I put up with when I go out with these two?”

  “If you dislike it so much, you could stay here when they go out.” Penelope raised her right eyebrow and closed her left eyelid.

  “Or I could just tease them about it when we’re alone.”

  “Or you could remember how we raised you and leave them be.” She stared at her daughter.

  Peter wasn’t on the recipient of Penelope’s chastisement, but he shrank from her gaze.

  “Sorry, Mother.”

  “Besides, I’m quite certain Markus isn’t interested in how handsome Peter is.” She winked at Peter. “Even if you are.”

  Peter blushed. “Can we go now, please?”

  Marisa laughed from the doorway. “You should go, dear. Markus will take it out on the boy if you keep him waiting.”

  Penelope flicked her hand at the bare wall, and the portal flared to life. “I’d like to see him try.”

  Four guards stood on the other side with a pair of royal pages. No one spoke at they marched through the palace, which suited Peter’s mood. The closer they got to the throne room, the more his dread increased.

  A crowd of people stood in the open space before a pair of closed doors. Their guides brought them to the front of the line. The grumbling was brief as Penelope tapped her staff on the stone.

  “Open the door,” she said. “Markus requested I bring Prince Peter to him immediately.”

  Whispers filled the space, but Peter ignored them. What could be so important that Markus left orders to interrupt whatever he was doing? He moved when Penelope prodded him.

  Inside, Markus leaned against the arm of his throne while a nobleman pled his cause. Peter had witnessed similar scenes many times in his father’s court. Whatever matter the petitioner brought to the crown was the single most important event on Nendor—to the person who brought it.

  “Lord Nardon,” Markus in
terrupted, much to the consternation of the petitioner. “I realize you’re building up your presentation, but get to your point. I have important business with my aunt and the prince of Belsport.”

  “Your Majesty,” Nardon said with great sincerity. “Were I to leave out the details, you might not rule in my favor.”

  “Nardon.” Markus sat straighter as he addressed the paunchy middle-aged man. “You want fishing rights off the northern coast of Oglithan, but those rights belong to Prince Fergus. You either pay Fergus a royalty or you refrain from fishing in those waters. Moreover, you still owe Fergus a fee for the times you’ve been caught fishing there.”

  Whatever else Nardon hoped to exact from the crown, this was not it.

  “However,” Markus added, causing the nobleman’s bald head to bob up hopefully. “I agree with you that the royalties demanded are greater than those prescribed by law. I will have my scribe draw up a letter directing Fergus to charge only what he is permitted. I’ll also reduce your levy for what you already caught.”

  Nardon smiled broadly, and Peter assumed this was the result he had hoped for when he arrived.

  “Your Majesty’s wisdom is without equal. I shall sing your praise when I return home.”

  “Glad you’re happy. Now I must ask you to leave.” Markus spoke to his clerk in a soft voice to the young woman. He glanced up and looked at Lord Nardon. “Wait outside, Nardon. My chief clerk will deliver the papers once I sign them.”

  Two guards standing on either side of the throne stepped forward. Another thing Peter had seen in Wilhelm’s court—they’d escort the nobleman out if he didn’t vacate his place immediately. Nardon glared at Peter as he passed. Penelope’s staff clicked, and Nardon looked up.

  “A hundred pardons, Your Highness.” Nardon quickly walked off.

  “Prince Peter, thank you for attending me.” Markus’s casual tone belied the situation.

  “Of course, Your Majesty. How can Belsport be of service?”

  “No, Peter, I don’t require anything. I have some news to share.” Markus stood and gestured to the guards. As the soldiers cleared the throne room, the king directed them to a door behind the throne. “Haven sent word that Meglar’s forces are on the move again. They’ve overrun Hamble and are moving north. Your father is in the field with his troops, but thus far the alliance has been giving ground.”