Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  Meglar’s eyes open wide as his last shield shattered like brittle glass. The intense wall of energy engulfed him, and his body disintegrated in an instant.

  It was over and Farrell had won. In his mind he envisioned Neldin howling in frustration at losing again. Hopefully Meglar would bear the brunt of his god’s rage.

  Energy continued to bombard Farrell, and his protective dome buckled. He could have tried to support it, but it wouldn’t save him. The weapon had too much energy left.

  Closing his eyes, he prayed for his children and dispersed the shield. The scorching fire washed over him. A white light surrounded him and reminded him of the Shaman’s test. He’d pass both tests.

  “Wait for me, Miceral. I’m coming.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The energy from the mountain continued long after Farrell stopped feeding it. Without his shields, he stood in the middle of a maelstrom of blinding light and power. He waited for the fire to burn away the pain—prayed for it—but he was denied.

  Energy on a scale he’d never experienced swept through him. It sped across the now-empty plains until it hit the mountains that formed the eastern edge of Gharaha. Spells woven into the rocks collected the energy and recycled it back to the Sources. He’d lowered his personal shield and left himself defenseless, but death refused to claim him.

  “No!” He’d tried to scream but the word came out in a choked sob.

  Farrell sank to his knees and waited for the weapon to run out of power. When the blast ended, his eyes needed a moment to adjust. Scorched ground surrounded him. Nothing outside his circle had survived; even Meglar’s ashes had burned away. Heat wafted skyward as Gharaha sought to dispel the massive wound he’d inflicted on her.

  He hooked his thumbs under his amulet. He dared to hope he’d been wrong, but he knew he hadn’t. The chain passed over his neck and slipped through his fingers. The metal necklace clinked softly as it gathered atop the smooth pendant. He closed his eyes and tucked his chin against his chest. Tears raced down his cheeks and landed on the dusty ground below him.

  He didn’t know how long he remained there, but when someone pecked at the wall of grief surrounding him, he opened his eyes. The sun was noticeably closer to the mountains than when the fight ended. He tightened his shields to keep them out. There was nothing to say. He’d lost.

  The probe continued with greater force and urgency. It fanned his fiery pain that anyone other than Miceral reached out to him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he shoved back at the presence. “Go away! Just leave me be!”

  It wouldn’t work, but grief stole his ability to think rationally. He lifted his head and stared at the desolation around him. The ground still burned with enough heat to incinerate an unshielded person. He pawed the ground for his staff. The wood was warm to his touch. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and used it to drag himself to his feet.

  “Do not do this, brother of my soul,” Jolella said from behind him.

  He didn’t turn around and took a step forward. “I’ve lost everything.”

  “Though your heart has shattered, much you treasure survived.”

  “My capacity to love anything again is gone.” Before he could move closer to the edge of his circle, a hand grabbed his arm.

  “I beg you.” She tugged him gently. “Please do not do this!”

  The pain in her voice cut through his walls. “Please let me go. I have nothing left. They demanded everything and I gave it to Them.”

  Jolella said nothing. She couldn’t have stopped him if he wanted to leave, but she maintained her grip on his arm. Their standoff continued until she pulled him around.

  “The Six didn’t require—”

  “It was supposed to be me!” He turned away when she flinched. “It was supposed to be me. I should have died, not Miceral!”

  “The Six never meant for either of you to die, Farrell.” She cupped his face with her hand and forced him to look at her.

  “They got what They wanted. I defeated Neldin’s Champion,” he whispered. “Let me have what I want.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t want this. Your grief is beyond words, but do not make your family suffer another loss.”

  “Another?” Of course there were more besides Miceral. His chest burned hotter and he struggled to breathe. He searched her eyes, but she turned away. “Who?”

  “There are too many to name.”

  “Who?” Tears formed in his eyes. “Jolella, who?”

  “Your brother Ta—” A sob broke her voice.

  She buried her face in his chest and cried.

  Farrell pulled her closer and let her grieve. A priestess of Seritia celebrated love, not loss. For a moment he entertained asking her to join him in leaving the circle, but she wouldn’t have agreed. He waited until she collected herself.

  “How did Mi—my brother die?” Asking about Miceral would have sent him running into the burning ground.

  “Saulmon betrayed us. Meglar turned him into a Chamdon—Saulmon and his army.” She sniffed and her eyes lost their focus. “Saulmon caught the princes by surprise. He killed Wilhelm and Marisa before Peter and Cendreth killed him. One of Saulmon’s guards who had been turned into a Chamdon rushed Peter. Takala swooped in to kill it, but the beast stabbed Takala before he died.”

  Farrell closed his eyes to fight back the tears, but it proved a mistake. He’d merged with Takala too many times. His mind instinctively sought out his brother’s memories. The zest for life and his boundless love for his family—including Farrell—overwhelmed him again.

  Jolella reached up and pulled him in so he could lean on her. He knew there were others he should mourn, but he couldn’t process any more. When he tried to recoil, she held tight.

  “Please let me go, Sister.” He tried again to free himself but didn’t want to risk hurting her. “It hurts too much. Just let me go. Please.”

  “Your death would only add to the world’s loss.” She pressed her head against his. “This is selfish of me, but I can’t lose you, too.”

  “What of me?” he whispered. He remembered the way Kel looked at Teresa, three thousand years after she’d died. The loss never faded. Farrell didn’t want to feel that pain. “I . . . I can’t . . . I don’t . . .”

  “Though your loss is great, love takes many forms. A parent’s love for you, your love for your children, siblings, and friends. Let that love heal you.”

  As she ticked off the different groups, Farrell saw their faces. His mother, Rothdin, his children, and others. He tried to dispel their faces but failed.

  “Your father already grieves for one son. Horgon has lost his only child. Wilhelm’s death leaves Peter without a parent or someone to help him grow into his role as king. Nerti has lost her mate of untold millennia. Do you want to pile more sorrow onto their loss?

  “And what of your children? They’ve been orphaned once. Would you leave them without parents a second time?”

  He wanted to shout at her for being so cruel—his guilt was great enough already—but she was right. “You don’t fight fair, Sister.”

  “In time you will see that I do.” Her smile, while genuine, betrayed her sorrow and relief. “You know in your heart neither Miceral nor your brother would want you to follow them. You will find no peace in death. Not when so many will suffer in the process.”

  He stared at the mountain face he’d spent so long modifying. The smooth surface radiated intense heat from the energy it had discharged. It had succeeded as they’d all hoped. Better. Though no one spoke it, all doubted he’d survive its use. His gaze fell on the gates he knew existed but couldn’t see.

  The spell that sealed them remained intact. They would remain sealed until he cleared the ground of the lethal heat it had absorbed from the fight. A question pushed through the haze of grief. “How did you get here?”

  “To all things a purpose,” she said. When their eyes met, she smiled. “As you surmised, Seritia left the robe for me. Mother Ganz ap
peared when you created this circle.”

  “Appeared? But she . . . The void?”

  “Exactly. A short time ago, a Door no one knew existed opened in Seritia’s temple in Haven and Mother Ganz stepped out.”

  “Haven?” he asked, not sure he’d heard right. “Not Agloth?”

  “The Door was keyed to the robe, not a temple. When you used the seven Gifts to make a wish, that was the trigger for her release.” She ran her hand over the old-fashioned vestment, pinched a bit of cloth, and let it go. “When I put this on, I was able to use the Door to find you.”

  “A purpose for all things,” he said.

  “The Blessed Mother planned for the possibility Her priestess would need to join Her Champion. That was the purpose of the robe.”

  Just as Honorus had planned for the possibility he would fail. Geena and Bren didn’t deserve to suffer again because they were pawns in the Six’s plans.

  Farrell wrapped his hand in energy and knelt at the edge of the circle. Pressing his protected fingers in the burning soil, he extended his senses to find the magic he’d hidden in the earth. The collection web had survived, but it wasn’t meant to draw heat from a battlefield. Farrell pushed a new command into the spell and magic rippled across the plains.

  Power rushed back into the Sources as the ground cooled. Inside the confines of Gharaha, the heat already released into the air remained trapped. He swept his hand across his body and created a cooling breeze that washed over the concealed valley. It hugged the walls as it raced around the plains and created a vortex that sucked the dangerous heat away.

  He stared between the twin Sources. The gates were centered between the pair, ensuring he could find them even when closed. Stretching his arm, he paused before releasing the seal.

  He could sense the others gathered behind the massive stone slabs. They’d offer sympathy and congratulations. He wanted neither. But he couldn’t keep them away forever. Something in the sky drew his attention. A swarm of tiny specks cleared Trellham’s peak. How could he flee from his father after Takala’s death?

  Snapping his fingers into a fist, he heard the high magic unwind. He didn’t wait to see who rushed from the gates. It didn’t matter.

  Jolella grabbed his arm with both hands and squeezed. He was grateful she didn’t offer false assurances or empty offers of support. They both knew the truth.

  The gates swung open and a swarm of beings exited the mountain. He turned away, unable to put on the brave face they expected. Instead, he focused on a stone that glowed with power on the floor of Gharaha.

  It made sense that Meglar’s . . . Yar-del’s Source had survived the onslaught. It was power incarnate. More so for all the foul methods his father had used to fill it. The power left in Meglar’s Source far exceeded what Farrell and his mentors had expected. Even with the collection web that extended miles on either side of the mountains, he hadn’t gathered half of what Meglar had left after the fight.

  Farrell didn’t need nor did he want Meglar’s tainted Source. The energy itself was neutral, but the spells that surrounded the stone were corrupt. He cast a spell to release the bindings. Without Meglar to block his efforts, the collection web pulled at the energy.

  The enormous amount of power stored required Farrell to regulate the release to avoid overloading his system. Once satisfied with the flow, he locked it in and turned back toward the gate.

  Jolella stared at him, and he knew she watched for any sign of despair. He attempted a smile, but it failed. Instead he inhaled sharply and let it out.

  “I’ll not take my life if that’s what you’re searching for.” From her expression, she couldn’t decide if she believed him. He was grateful she didn’t ask him if he meant right then or ever.

  She didn’t answer, and Farrell composed himself to greet the approaching group. On the faces of most he saw their relief and excitement, but for others there was crushing sorrow.

  Farrell had defeated Meglar and with him Neldin’s plans, but it cost them dearly. Thousands had died before this day and they’d lost many more today. Some Farrell knew well, most he couldn’t name. Though he tried to mourn his friends, his heart remained locked on just two.

  Grohl and his father swooped down and led a few other peregrines to outpace those on the ground. They landed gracefully, but he’d never seen their feathers so muted.

  “Hail and well done, Brother.” His voice lacked its usual exuberance.

  Farrell glanced at his father. When Rothdin nodded, Farrell extended his arms to his brother. Grohl enveloped him in his enormous wings, cutting off most of the light.

  “Thank you, Brother, but I can’t find the will to rejoice in what happened this day.” Two others joined them. His father and Hesnera eased themselves into the link.

  “You are wrong, Halloran,” Hesnera said. “They gave everything for us. Failing to live well will diminish their sacrifice.”

  His brain knew she was right, but his heart couldn’t agree. “I don’t even know . . . I don’t know.”

  “Your mate’s old friend, Leothan, betrayed him.” Rothdin’s words dripped with anger. “When Miceral went to the traitor for aid, he sprang Meglar’s trap. Klissmor, Miceral, and many others died in the fight.”

  His instincts had told him not to trust Leothan, but he didn’t follow through. Even from his grave, Meglar found ways to kill pieces of Farrell.

  “I’ll do my best to honor their bravery.” He couldn’t promise more.

  Nerti and Natice led the beings from Haven. Both walked with their heads bowed. A step behind, Zenora held Horgon’s arm. His father-in-law looked broken, and it wrenched at Farrell’s heart. With tears in his eyes, he met his mother’s anxious gaze.

  “I’m not hurt, Mother. Not physically.”

  Horgon glanced at him and gently pushed Zenora forward. She rushed over and grabbed him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him close and rubbed the back of his head.

  Everything he’d tried to hold back rushed forward once he was safely in her arms. The crushing weight of loss pushed past his efforts to maintain control, and he wept on her shoulder.

  “It was supposed to be me,” he whispered through his sobs.

  Zenora stroked his hair, whispering words of comfort he didn’t hear. It gave him time to compose himself enough to straighten up. The empty space inside remained, but he’d gained a measure of control. Seeing Nerti, Horgon, and Natice nearly unraveled him again.

  Horgon kept his eyes closed and his hand on Natice’s back as if he’d collapse otherwise. Would he welcome Farrell’s presence or would it be too painful? Before he could decide, Nerti walked toward him.

  “We have come full circle, wizard. The day we met at this spot you saved Northhelm; today you saved Nendor. I’m so proud of you.”

  Farrell ignored the praise and pressed his head against hers.

  “Though it is small comfort, I love you. For as long as you need me, I’ll not leave your side.”

  “You will always be a great joy to me, Little One.” She leaned closer. “Though the cost was great, we did what we had to this day.”

  They stood, connected by their loss. His mother, Horgon, Rothdin, Grohl, and Hesnera joined them. He sensed others had walked over, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  They remained huddled in silence until Rothdin moved and stepped back. Having had his eyes closed for so long, Farrell squinted in the bright light.

  It felt like half of Haven had walked onto Gharaha, with more arriving every heartbeat. Meglar’s death made it safe to leave the sanctuary. For many it would be the first step toward going home.

  Haven had been Farrell’s home since he could remember. Now it would forever be a place to avoid. He didn’t know where he would go, but he and the children would find a place far from Haven and Trellham and Ardus.

  He saw a contingent of dwarves approaching and thought he recognized Jagwin. This time there would be no discussion. In his mind he’d already abdicated every position and title he�
�d held. He’d given Nendor enough. The world could get by without him.

  As he considered his words, a group of unicorns exited the massive gates. He recognized Kel at the head, but his grandfather obscured the others. Kel looked different. In the past he’d dressed in a wizard’s robe, but now he wore formal court attire. For the first time since they’d met, he wore a crown to contain his long white hair. The red jewel atop his staff sparkled as they moved. This was Kel, the wizard king of legend.

  The small group broke into an easy gallop, and people parted to give him room.

  When they were close enough for Farrell to make out the riders, he frowned and looked at those around him.

  “Why did he bring Lisle, the nannies, and the children?”

  “You will need to ask him when he arrives,” Rothdin said.

  Grenda moved up until she was side by side with Flemin. Beatrice said something to Kel. He nodded and stared at Farrell. They slowed as they drew nearer.

  “I am proud beyond words, Halloran,” Kel said when they arrived. “As I always knew, you proved yourself without equal this day. I only wish victory hadn’t cost us so much.”

  Farrell slammed his shields up just before his emotions leaked out. “Thank you, Grandfather.”

  “I, too, wish to express my admiration, Halloran,” Beatrice said. “You are worthy of every accolade you have been given.”

  He nodded toward the elderly wizards. “I had not expected to see you again, Grand Master. Especially not outside your forest home.”

  “Where the Six are involved, you can never be sure what will happen.” She gave him an odd smile.

  “Papa! Papa!” Geena squirmed in Lisle’s lap.

  Her activity sparked a like reaction from Bren. “Papa!”

  Much to the delight of his children, Farrell used a bit of power to bring them to him. He hugged and kissed them, and they squeezed his face against theirs. He stole a glance at Jolella, and she gave him a nod as if to remind him of what she’d said.

  “I hadn’t expected you to bring the children,” he said to Kel. Although not a rebuke, Farrell made sure he didn’t sound grateful.