Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  He’d succeeded in driving Leothan back, but it was too late. Each breath burned Miceral’s chest and his lungs felt full. The blow had broken several ribs and punctured his lungs. Miceral tried to sit up, but his head spun from the effort. He turned his head, and Klissmor was lying on his side motionless. Beyond his friend, a white mist drifted over the battlefield. At least he thought he saw something. It might have been his failing eyesight.

  Fighting continued around the camp as reinforcements flooded the area. Only a few Chamdon survived. Leothan’s company had isolated them and systematically took them down. Leothan wobbled and lurched forward. His focus remained on Klissmor and Miceral. Frankis had found a sword and jumped in front of the wounded creature.

  Miceral wanted to tell Frankis to save himself, but he couldn’t focus enough to speak. The fog reached the camp, and the remaining creatures stopped as if yanked by an imaginary rope. They flailed and their bodies rippled. When Leothan reacted the same, Miceral feared it was a new spell to augment the Chamdon further.

  The crazed expression on Leothan’s face gave way and his body shrank. When he’d returned to his normal size, Leothan tried to raise the large war hammer, but his muscles cramped. Frankis dove in and stabbed at Leothan’s exposed face. He pulled back his sword, and Leothan slumped to the ground.

  With his failing strength, Miceral crawled toward Klissmor. His friend’s breathing was shallow and his pulse weak.

  “Hold on, Klissmor. I’ll get you a healer,” Miceral said. He didn’t know if he could call for one, but he’d use his dying breath to try.

  “Thank you, but my wounds are too great.” Klissmor opened his eyes and turned his head so it rested next to Miceral. “I fear we shall go see the Blessed Mother together.”

  Miceral struggled to move his arm up to his neck. Slowly he teased the amulet out from under his shirt. He wrapped his fingers around the smooth white stone and closed his eyes.

  The warm pendant reminded him of the life Farrell had breathed into their link. It also conjured an image of his partner fighting for his life on the other side of the mountain. Not saying goodbye would hurt Farrell, but Miceral couldn’t risk distracting him.

  “I’ve passed along your thoughts to Nerti,” Klissmor said. “She will see that your mate hears them when the time is right.”

  “Thank you for seeing me through this journey.”

  “It has been an honor to ride with you, Miceral. Now we will take this last ride together.”

  “You and Miceral have not taken your last ride, Father.”

  Miceral opened his eyes. Nordric stood over them, looking down. A blinding flash of light soothed the pain in Miceral’s body. He closed his eyes, but the bright white persisted. The hard ground on his hip faded, as did the warmth of Klissmor’s body. He felt like he was floating on water.

  He kept his eyes closed. Death felt different than he expected, but at least it took away the pain.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Farrell smirked. “Neldin spoke to me many times about replacing you. I’ll wager he didn’t want to be saddled with someone as dimwitted as you. You’re lucky. I rejected him and chose to be the Champion of the Six.”

  “You?” The angry expression disappeared. “You’re him?”

  Farrell ignored the question. Until the other wizards were gone, the final battle couldn’t take place. “Honorus, You asked me to choose and I did. You told me to come alone and I did. But I will not fight him and his wizards alone. I ask Your permission to bring others to this fight to even the odds.”

  “We deny your request. We will deal with this.” The answer surprised him. He didn’t expect any answer, let alone that the Six would act. Why would Neldin allow it?

  He felt the familiar tingle and waited to see if Meglar recognized what was about to happen. If he did, Meglar didn’t react.

  “ONE CHAMPION FOR EACH!” Khron’s thirty-foot avatar appeared beside Meglar.

  Khron slammed the tip of His massive sword into the ground. The other wizards and their animals disappeared. No flash, no warning, just gone. Meglar looked small and weak standing next to Khron. He shrank back from the imposing figure in front of him.

  “IF YOU FEAR TO FACE OUR CHAMPION ALONE, FLEE AND HIDE, BUT YOU WILL NOT BREAK THE RULES!”

  A flash accompanied the last word, and Khron was gone. Still visibly shaken, Meglar’s face twisted in anger. When he turned, Farrell smiled.

  “You were told to come alone.”

  Meglar’s rage-filled scream ripped across the now-empty plains. He fired wildly at the outer shield. The static defenses flared to life again. Farrell had known nothing he could hide in the ground would hurt Meglar, so he hadn’t tried. Instead, he and his mentors had sown distracting but nearly harmless spells. Flashes, loud pops, and concussive blows to his shield peppered Meglar. They interrupted him as he attempted to bring down the outer shield.

  They also prevented Meglar from seeing the real danger. With a thought Farrell checked on the spell he’d spent years perfecting and cloaking. It had engaged and gained strength. If Meglar noticed, he didn’t pause from his angry assault.

  Farrell stepped down and extended his arms. Drawing power from the Sources, he used his body as the epicenter for his attack. Meglar grunted as the energy pounded his shield. After the third blow, Meglar bellowed in rage and fired on the wall separating them.

  The barrier had been created to keep out the army Farrell knew Meglar would bring. He never intended it to withstand a real attack, and it collapsed when Meglar struck. His triumph was fleeting, as Farrell released several new spells he’d held ready.

  He did little damage, but his attacks bought him time to deploy his regenerating shield. Meglar smirked and reached into his pocket. Although not the reaction Farrell expected, he used the break to release another set of preplanned strikes.

  The smile faded from his father’s face, and he pulled his hand from his pocket and grasped his staff in both hands. He fired at Farrell’s defenses, and the ground shook from the force.

  Although the attack was stronger than anything Farrell had felt before, his shields withstood it without issue. Meglar frowned but didn’t stop his assault.

  Free from focusing on his shields, Farrell devoted more attention to attacking Meglar. He probed Meglar’s defenses for weakness. Unlike his half siblings’, their father’s shield was solid. Other than using crushing force, it would take time to breach the barrier. Farrell could only attempt that sequence if Meglar didn’t fight back. It also wouldn’t work if Meglar made continuous repairs to his shield.

  The nonstop exchange played to Farrell’s ultimate plans, but it also concerned him. Meglar had to notice that extreme force did nothing to weaken Farrell’s shield. He increased the strength of his attacks, but Meglar made no other changes. The lack of skill should have pleased Farrell, except it reminded him of the strategy he was using—delay.

  Farrell checked the spell he’d laid in the plains and felt a surge of excitement. His mentors had doubted him every step of the way, but his idea worked. Meglar hadn’t detected it, and if Farrell could keep him occupied long enough, it would be too late to stop.

  Buoyed by information, Farrell launched a new offensive. Upping the power level hadn’t cracked the barrier, but it kept Meglar on his heels. He slammed his staff into the dirt and had it fire a continuous stream of green energy balls. Next, he pulled a handful of small yellow rocks from his pocket and flung them at his enemy. Before they struck, Farrell shot clear bubbles from his outstretched hands.

  The yellow stones hit the shield but didn’t explode. Instead they stuck to the energy and pressed into the barrier. A tip formed as they tried to burrow into the shield. The bubbles also attached themselves to the shimmering wall. They wobbled as they fed off the residual energy from the green balls of power.

  Meglar lashed out as Farrell had hoped. He flung sheets of reddish energy at the objects affixed to his shield. The clear globes sucked greedily at the fuel Meglar g
ave them and fed energy to the yellow stones. The rocks elongated slower than the bubbles and dug deeper into the shield.

  Farrell knew they wouldn’t breach Meglar’s shield, but they kept his attention. The constant barrage prevented Meglar from launching a serious attack. To keep him occupied, Farrell released a swarm of red dots. The specks spread into long flat ribbons that wrapped themselves around the shield.

  It wouldn’t distract Meglar for long, so Farrell used the time to confirm his hidden spell worked properly. He and Sanduval had created the energy-collecting web to feed their Sources. Starting with Gharaha, Haven’s wizards extended the grid as far as possible. Tacked on to that passive magic, Farrell wove an active gathering spell. His mentors didn’t believe it possible, but Farrell had found a way to use that spell to steal another wizard’s energy.

  He designed it to pull tiny bits of energy at first, so small it would be impossible to detect during a wizard’s duel. As it gathered more power, it would use the energy to shield itself from the victim. Finally, the draw would grow exponentially. Once that happened, Meglar would have less than three minutes to turn it off or have all his energy sucked away. Any attempt to overpower the spell would feed it faster. The key was to keep Meglar oblivious to its presence until it reached that tipping point.

  The ribbons encircled Meglar in four narrow bands that avoided the bubbles and stones. The pressure from the red energy would have crushed most other shields, but Meglar’s showed no sign of stress.

  Farrell plucked his staff from the ground and fired a massive burst of energy at Meglar. His father let out a howl of frustration and his body heaved. A tremendous explosion took Farrell by surprise. He instinctively covered his eyes with his free arm.

  The roar of high magic filled his hearing before his vision cleared. A replica of the energy cloud Tixel deployed outside Trellham formed over his shield. A blast of lightning sizzled as it struck the crown of Farrell’s defenses. The force of the blow was much greater than the original cloud. It might have breached his defense if Farrell hadn’t made improvements to his regenerating shield.

  Something tugged at the energy his collection web swept up. It couldn’t override his spells, and Farrell smirked as Meglar stared expectantly at the cloud. His confused expression morphed into a scowl when nothing happened. He balled up his fist and a flurry of crackling lightning rained down on Farrell. A moment later, Meglar launched balls of power from his staff that struck in sync with the attack from above.

  Farrell countered with a variety of spells and energy bursts. Each time he made an inroad, Meglar paused his attack long enough to shore up his defenses.

  During one those breaks, Farrell reached for the cloud’s creation spell. He found it and tethered a link to the Source on his left. Not only did Meglar need to feed the cloud power, now Farrell was siphoning off that power. It wouldn’t decide the fight, but it might cause a momentary lapse Farrell could exploit.

  Farrell pulled a smooth circle of wood from his pocket and tossed it behind him. It rolled between two stones and outside the shield. He renewed his attack on Meglar while the spell soaked up energy.

  After another extended but inconclusive exchange, Farrell released the spell in the wooden ball. A steady stream of mist gushed from the smooth surface. It coalesced into a light gray imitation of the angry cloud Meglar used against Farrell. The energy swirled inside, creating a luminous effect as it drifted toward Meglar.

  Meglar’s shield pulsed red just before the first flash of lightning struck. His father’s arrogant sneer faded when the blow left a sizzling patch in its wake. Meglar fixed the defect, but the cloud continued to fire.

  Farrell tried to exploit the weaknesses, but the random nature of the spell made it difficult to land a blow before Meglar could repair the damage. He focused intently, trying to anticipate the next location. At the periphery of his vision, he noticed something odd in the energy of his shield. When he looked in the direction of the anomaly, it was gone.

  He anchored his staff in the ground again and alternated the frequency and location of the balls. Hopefully one would hit close enough to a weak spot. He should have launched other spells while he had an advantage, but something gnawed at him. He needed a closer look at what he thought he saw in the regenerative shield.

  Distracted with defending himself, Meglar hadn’t fed his cloud, and it dwindled into nothing. Farrell searched the remains for any link to his shield but didn’t find one. He did, however, find an element not in the original.

  Farrell’s heart pounded as he examined his shield. The spell was intact and the integrity strong, but he kept searching. Since whatever he’d find would be small, he sent a sweeping pulse through the shield to seek out any magic that wasn’t his.

  The anomaly floated in the energy streams and grew slowly by feeding off tiny ergs of power. He hadn’t been able to find it before because its purpose wasn’t to disrupt the shield but to hide in the streams. He didn’t understand the reason, but anything Meglar inserted into his shields couldn’t stay.

  The speck shimmied and burst into dozens of smaller motes. They scattered faster than Farrell could follow. He caught one and examined it closer. It created a tiny pinhole of an opening in his shield. Not large enough to be dangerous, but in connection with dozens more—and he assumed they’d divide again—it could be dangerous.

  Farrell erected a new shield and pressed it against the original barrier. The shield would stop any tiny bit of energy that made it through the miniscule holes. It didn’t, however, solve his problem. The regenerative nature of his defenses would keep the invasive magic in constant motion. That made it extremely difficult for Meglar to catch one. Even if he did, the bit wouldn’t remain in one place. Still, it was a weakness that would reduce the efficiency of his protection. And it would make it too weak to protect him if he used the weapon.

  The hidden spell was still growing, but it needed time to reach its tipping point. He didn’t expect his old shield to last long enough. Throwing caution aside, he pulled out the Hand of Neldin.

  As he held it out, Meglar’s eyes went wide and he froze as Farrell had hoped. He smashed Meglar’s defenses with a Gift-enhanced burst of power. It detonated with ground-shaking force. Meglar growled and fired back.

  The two pounded each other relentlessly. Farrell noticed his outer shield held up, but the teeny holes had become slightly larger and more numerous. His defenses were still too strong for Meglar to breach, but they wouldn’t hold forever. He needed to find a weakness to exploit to end the fight.

  He slid his hand into his pocket to make contact with the Eye. “Show me how to defeat Meglar.”

  The world outside his shield blurred for a moment and returned to normal. He waited for something to happen, but his vision remained steady.

  Meglar pounded Farrell’s defenses again. The streams of energy maintained their integrity, but Farrell noticed more glitches. Only a few, but enough to show it was getting worse. The rhythmic assault on his shield threatened to mesmerize him as he fingered the Eye, thinking how best to reword his request.

  He pulled his gaze away and stared at the ground. The power of Meglar’s attacks had burned the area around his shield. The patch inside remained normal, almost like the inverse of what he saw at—

  “Agloth!” He pulled out the Eye and asked again how to beat Meglar.

  His vision turned foggy again, but this time it didn’t fade. He twisted and turned until he saw the mountain face. The altered rock sparkled in sharp focus.

  Farrell’s heart beat faster. The weapon would work! A flicker in his shield crushed his excitement. It would, but now Meglar had compromised his regenerative shields. Using the weapon would kill Farrell as well. He turned back to his fight and remembered the grassy patch inside his circle.

  Jolella said there was a purpose to their bond and he’d always been blessed. He pulled out the remaining Gift and knelt. Meglar laughed and paused his attacks.

  “Prayer?” he said dismissi
vely. “Do you think that will save you?”

  He didn’t respond to the taunt. Not only didn’t he have time to engage Meglar, ignoring him would irk him more than any words.

  He opened the Mind and set it on the ground. On top of its blank pages he placed each of the Gifts. Father Lingum had called following his instincts the courage of faith. This would be the ultimate test.

  Meglar flung something at his shield and renewed his attacks. The fine grains of sand stuck to the flowing energy. They made contact with the black specks floating in the streams. Where the two met, patches of instability swirled slowly around the shield. Now Meglar had a weakness he could exploit.

  The massive burst of power hammered his compromised shield and interrupted the smooth flow of energy. Despite the disruption, the wall continued to regenerate and absorb most of the force.

  Farrell broke his staff in two. He poured every drop of power in it and his armor into two enormous blasts of wizard’s fire. The twin assaults struck in rapid succession, interrupting Meglar’s attack. He opened a link to his Sources and fired a second wave to keep his enemy reeling.

  Strengthening the inner shield, Farrell shut off the spells in the stone. The streams of energy ended and the multicolored dome faded. A triumphant smile spread across Meglar’s face. He shrugged off the effects of Farrell’s attack and returned fire.

  Farrell’s shields deflected the blows as fountains of energy burst from the stones. Before Meglar’s third strike could hit, the shimmering dome reappeared. The weakness that threatened to bring it down was gone. The foreign magic was still there, but it had reverted to its original diminutive size.

  Anger and frustration replaced the momentary elation on Meglar’s face. Farrell ignored him again and placed a hand on the Mind. He made sure his fingers touched all seven Gifts. Velchuck had said to choose wisely.

  He closed his eyes. “I wish that the circle of ground Seritia touched outside the walls of Agloth be recreated inside my shield.”