Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “No, as expected, he sent wizards from his inner circle.” Pointing to the three wearing Meglar’s personal colors, he started to stare at Miceral before shaking it off. He needed to focus on keeping the shield intact. After a moment’s assessment, he felt his stomach tighten. The barrier would fail—and soon.

  Despite the danger to everyone, Farrell admired the ingenuity of Meglar’s attempt. By themselves, the wizards had no hope of breaching his defenses. Even with the attack concentrated on a small area, Farrell’s shield would not fail. Meglar, however, changed the equation by spreading his own attack over a greater surface. This pulled energy from all around to shore up the shield. The three wizards timed their smaller, focused attack to coincide with their master’s. Eventually, the narrow blast would force a breach and destroy the shield.

  Farrell leapt from Nerti’s back and circled the pulse of green energy that created the shield. Suppressing the desire to lash out at his enemy, he decided on his next step.

  “I need three rocks, as large as you can manage, each about the same size. Place them east, south, and west around the top of the spike.” He pressed his staff on the spots he wanted the rocks, leaving behind light blue markers in the dirt.

  “Right away,” Miceral said.

  Focused on the button of wood at his feet, Farrell barely noticed his companions leave. Meglar’s attack changed the energy flow significantly. He couldn’t fix it without bringing the entire shield down.

  “Meglar must be pleased with himself.”

  “Why do you say that?” Nerti’s response surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say that “out loud.”

  “Because he thinks he has me by my britches. He sees two options: let the shield fail or take it down myself. Both open Northhelm to an attack by his forces.”

  “You see a third.” Her confidence gave him a boost.

  “Create a new shield before the old one fails.” No easy feat but certainly possible.

  Peering up, he saw the three black-and-red-robed wizards conferring. Lesser wizards started to gather a few paces behind them. With barely a thought, he fired several bolts of energy at the group.

  The three dressed in royal colors staggered slightly, and he managed to singe the robes of several of the lesser wizards. He had expected stronger shields. He had only meant to disrupt their focus.

  Killing them would buy Northhelm time, but it might also draw Meglar to the fight. Farrell decided to save that as a last option. Miceral’s return interrupted his internal debate.

  Hoisting a stone the size of a large pig, he asked, “Will this do?”

  Blinking, Farrell realized he’d forgotten Miceral’s strength when he made the request. But bigger worked better for his plans. “Perfect. Put that here, please.” He motioned to the western position.

  Miceral did as instructed, then quickly moved to where Klissmor and Nerti were pushing another rock into the open space. Standing over the stone, Farrell held his staff in both hands. He extended it over the stone and moved it up and down. The rock started to glow a soft pink, pulsing from dull to bright in time with his cadence.

  Moving in perfect sync, he slammed the metal end of his staff onto the rock as it surged its brightest. Light exploded, causing gasps on both sides of the shield. When the flash dissipated, a column of pink energy about the height of his staff emanated from the rock.

  “By the Six, Farrell. Next time warn me.” Miceral stood behind him with the second stone in hand.

  “Sorry.” He pointed to the southern point. Just beyond Miceral, the enemy milled about, staring in his direction.

  Maintaining control of the first stone, Farrell circled to the next. Before he positioned himself, an enormous blast of black-and-red energy struck the shield from above. As he’d anticipated, working such high magic brought a swift and much more powerful response from Meglar.

  Meglar’s assault seemed to stir the wizards into action. Now they directed a constant stream of power at a point chest-high near Farrell’s position. Standing on top of the second rock, he pointed his staff at the wizards and watched with satisfaction as two flinched. The loss of focus caused the attack to sputter, disrupting its effectiveness.

  His success proved short-lived as the next two blasts struck in unison, causing a larger drain on his shield. Farrell felt a sense of urgency in his enemy’s attack.

  Again he struck back at their shields with only enough force to rattle them. Turning back to his work, he regretted leaving Glendora and the others behind.

  The southern rock pulsed pale blue under his staff. He felt the renewed assault, noting it lacked the same punch it had moments ago. He almost felt sorry for the hapless fools. They had no idea Meglar already considered them dead. When the wall gave way, the spillage would be enormous, easily overpowering their pitiful shielding.

  Timing his efforts, he slammed his staff onto the stone seconds before Meglar’s next attack. The flash caused the three wizards to flinch, momentarily halting their assault. When the blast of energy arrived, it hit the shield with little effect.

  A blue column joined the pink as Farrell moved to the eastern point. Miceral had already placed the rock over the designated spot and stood to the side, watching.

  “Move behind those rocks.” Farrell pointed his staff toward an outcropping about fifty feet away. “Once I set this last spell, the energy released could burn you all. I can protect you better over there.”

  Staring intently, Miceral finally turned to Klissmor and did as instructed. Farrell quickly erected a small but powerful shield in front of the rocks.

  By now the attacks were coming faster, and he could feel the original shield failing. Soon, one of the assaults would overwhelm it, creating a cascading effect and causing the spell to implode.

  The last stone turned violet under his staff. Working carefully, he ignored Meglar’s wizards. He couldn’t rush a spell this powerful. All three anchors needed to be of equal strength for him to calibrate it properly.

  Nearing completion, he felt the green wall that protected him begin to waver. Matching his movements to the pulses of light, he brought his staff down hard on the purple stone just as Meglar’s latest attack destroyed his old shield.

  A massive surge of energy exploded from the Cytus wood, sending a hail of energy-infused splinters in all directions. Green energy pulsed from the ground, colliding with the black energy from Meglar’s attack.

  The shards of wood struck first, dissolving against Farrell’s personal shield. A dozen of Meglar’s lesser wizards fell under the barrage of deadly missiles, including one of the three newcomers. The other two managed to avoid injury, but only for a matter of seconds.

  The pulse of green energy spread out in concentric circles, pushing the remains of Meglar’s attack with it. Coming from the southeast, the black energy ricocheted backward toward the enemy marshaling for an attack. The raging force of power washed over Meglar’s troops, killing everyone in its path.

  Amidst the torrent of swirling magic, three columns of energy forged skyward. Pink, blue, and violet light merged fifty feet above, combined into a knot of power, and cascaded down to replace the shield Meglar had destroyed. The new shield settled firmly in place just before another assault struck from above. The black energy rolled over it, sizzling as it burned on contact.

  Working at the center of the conflagration, Farrell did not escape unscathed. Though his personal shield repelled the attack, there had not been time to anchor it. Mere feet from the focal point of the explosion, Farrell was tossed like a scarecrow toward Northhelm’s entrance by the energy waves.

  He slammed into the ground, head bouncing off the hard-packed dirt as the breath whooshed from his chest. Dazed, he released his grip on his staff. As it rolled from his hand, he heard someone scream his name. Before he could answer, he lost consciousness.

  A welcome caress of blackness enveloped him but lasted only a moment. From two sides he felt a gentle pull. One he recognized as Nerti’s mind; the other felt like a ma
le. Grasping both, he felt himself soar toward a distant light ahead.

  Slowly, Farrell opened his eyes. Nerti and Klissmor had their heads dipped over him, their horns touching his head. Looking past them, he saw Miceral’s face break into a wide smile.

  “We really need to stop meeting like this,” he said to Miceral, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re going to get the wrong impression of me.” He managed a weak smile but didn’t try to move.

  Miceral let out a nervous laugh before bending down to kiss Farrell’s forehead softly. “And what impression is it you don’t want me to have?”

  “That I’m a fragile little wizard you need to constantly pick up.”

  Miceral maneuvered around and gave him a deep, passionate kiss that ended in another laugh.

  Farrell chuckled softly. “Now that’s what I call a kiss.” Smiling, he put up no resistance when Miceral scooped him from the ground. Content to stare at Miceral’s face, Farrell reluctantly turned his attention to the rapid succession of attacks on the new shield. Their muffled thud brought a nod of satisfaction from him.

  “Whatever you did, it seems to be working.”

  Staring at the shifting colors of the new shield, Farrell turned when he heard horses running from the entrance. Wesfazial and Erstad galloped toward their position, followed closely by Glendora, Horgon, and a company of guards. They pulled to a halt with Wesfazial in the lead.

  “I ride my old bones on a spirited horse to save you, and I find you in the arms of a handsome soldier.”

  “Nice to see you too, Wesfazial. I’m fine, by the way.” He smiled at his mentor who, despite his crotchety tone, gave him a genuine smile in return.

  Farrell turned toward Miceral and said, “At least he called you handsome.” Miceral set him down but kept an arm around Farrell’s waist. “Wesfazial, may I introduce Miceral, son of Horgon, whom I see you met.”

  Miceral bowed but kept close to him. “Good to meet you, Master Wesfazial. Farrell has spoken highly of you.”

  “You don’t need to lie for the boy.” Wesfazial nodded, a smirk pushing aside his concern. “I know what he thinks of me.”

  “Where’s Erstad?” Farrell looked around until he saw his other mentor standing by the energized rocks.

  Though he didn’t need the help, he let Miceral hold him until they reached Erstad. Without warning, the elderly wizard spun around.

  “Astounding. Where did you learn this?” Without missing a beat, he turned slightly to his right and added, “You must be Miceral. Pleased to meet you, lad.”

  “I came up with the idea after reading something in a book in Heminaltose’s library.”

  “Impossible.” Wesfazial’s denial took Farrell by surprise. “I’ve read every book in that library, as has Erstad. There’s nothing in there about this type of shielding.”

  “Well, no, there isn’t, but there are some references to higher magic that only a grand master can work.” He turned his head from one to the other. What had them so worked up? “I experimented with those on a smaller scale and implemented it here today.”

  “And you never thought to tell us about it?” Erstad asked, directing them toward the gate.

  “No disrespect, but neither of you are grand masters. I didn’t think it made sense to discuss my theories with you if you couldn’t understand the magic involved.”

  The two looked at each other, something that Farrell had seen them do many times over the last eight years. Hearing nothing further, he let Miceral lead him to Nerti and Klissmor.

  “We should get back to the Door,” he told everyone. “Eventually Meglar will show up to see what happened. My hope is we’ll be gone by then.”

  “Are you going to leave the stones for him to study?” Erstad asked.

  “No.” Farrell mounted Nerti. “The spells are keyed to my presence. Once I close the Door, they’ll wink out, leaving nothing but stones with residual power.”

  Everyone kept silent as Horgon led them back toward the Great Hall. Once inside the front gate, Erstad turned, muttered a few words, and waved his hand at the entrance. It and all the empty space around it turned into a solid wall of rock. Farrell turned to the elderly wizard, a look of confusion on his face.

  “Wizardry had a hand in building Northhelm.” Erstad shrugged. “It’s only fitting I undo the spells before we leave for good. It will further hinder Meglar’s efforts to learn anything from this place.”

  “By the Six, how simple am I?” Farrell swore. “I could have sealed the mountain like Master Erstad is doing and not had to rush out to create a new shield. Meglar’s forces wouldn’t have reached us before the evacuation was complete.”

  “Sometimes age beats strength.” Glendora sounded like his former teacher.

  Feeling foolish, he nodded but didn’t say any more. They continued in silence, the tunnels quickly returning to earth and rock behind them

  When they reached the almost desolate hall, only a few soldiers remained.

  Moments after their arrival, the doorway to the hall turned back to its native rock. Even the size of the chamber slowly shrunk. One by one, the soldiers stepped into the Door until only the four wizards, Miceral, Nerti, Klissmor, and three horses remained. Farrell motioned for everyone else to go through.

  “What of you?” Miceral asked.

  “When I leave, I’m going to turn off the spells that created the shield.” Everyone but Miceral moved for the Door. Before he left, Miceral leaned over to kiss him again.

  “Hurry through. There’s nothing left to protect.” Miceral gave him a playful wink. “That and I’m anxious to see your home.”

  “I will, but I want to be sure I leave no trace of where we went. I need the Door to dissolve itself before the chamber closes in on it. It won’t take but a moment. Then I will show you our home. Now go.” He motioned toward the Door. “Just wait for me on the other side.”

  Alone, only the glow from the Door lit the slowly shrinking room. He could feel that Meglar’s attacks had increased considerably but hadn’t weakened the shield much. He considered exploding the stones but decided to time his departure for a moment before the next assault. Once he removed the shield, Meglar’s next blast would destroy everything in its path.

  Certain he had the pattern of Meglar’s attacks correct, Farrell spoke the spell that would unmake the Door once he left Northhelm. Even if Meglar somehow found his way through the mountains to this spot, he would find nothing of value.

  Stepping through after one attack and before the next, Farrell felt the shield wink out. He knew Meglar’s energy would incinerate everything around it, even the stones. The mountain shook, disturbing nothing but earth and rock. As the last of the Door disappeared, so did his link to the now extinct Northhelm.

  FARRELL TURNED from where the Door had been and looked for his friends. Erstad and Wesfazial stood by the exit talking to Glendora. Two very deferential clerics of Lenore fawned over Nerti and Klissmor as they led them to their quarters. That left Miceral alone.

  He turned to Miceral, letting his lips curl up in a playful grin. “Glad I’m not standing next to Meglar about now. He’s probably breaking everything in sight.”

  “Then I’m glad you’re not near him too.” Miceral winked and returned the grin. “I don’t want him breaking you.”

  “So…,” he stammered, not sure what to say. “Welcome to Haven. Let me find out where your room is and I’ll walk you there.”

  Miceral looked at him for a moment, seeming to search for the right words. “You need some rest. As much as I’d like you to escort me, why don’t you find someone else so you can get some sleep?”

  Farrell noted the hesitation and decided to take a chance. He stared at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come with me to my suite?”

  Miceral didn’t respond, forcing Farrell to lift his eyes. From the look on his face, Miceral struggled for an answer. “I want to, Farrell. Trust me, I do, but I think it’s best for you to rest—alone. You passed out once, t
hen worked more powerful magic. There will be time for us to be together. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The big smile did little to improve Farrell’s mood. Sure, they could be together later, but that didn’t help with now. “I know you aren’t. But….”

  “Come, I’ll walk you to your rooms, then go find mine. You can come get me in the morning and show me around.” Miceral took his hand and moved toward the exit.

  Smirking, he nodded. “Okay, but you should let me lead. You don’t know the way.”

  Hands entwined, they made their way up four levels to Farrell’s rooms. People scurried about, but they stopped to greet Farrell. Most smiled when they noticed the pair holding hands.

  “You seem well liked.” Miceral turned his head to follow the last group. “Am I a trophy you’re showing off?”

  “Of course.” Farrell caught himself before he giggled. Drawing himself up, he tried to look serious. “I am the prince around here. It’s about time the people of Haven saw me deliriously happy.”

  A small squeeze of his hand made him smile wider, a grin he kept all the way to his rooms. They met fewer people the farther they went. Eventually, no one bothered them as they walked down a long, half-lit corridor. Farrell stopped in front of a plain stone door. Only a small gray handle set it apart from the wall around it.

  “These are my quarters.” He looked up, feeling his heart pound. “Come in while we wait for someone to fetch you?”

  “Of course.” Miceral pushed the door, but it didn’t budge.

  “I’m afraid you need permission to open my door. It’s magically sealed.” Miceral started to remove his hand, but Farrell grabbed it in his and placed it back on the door. He wove magic through their hands, drawing a look from Miceral. “Now my door will open for you.”

  Miceral pushed with a finger, and the door gently swung inward. Farrell led them into a small anteroom with three doorways. Doors to the left and right were closed, and the archway in front of them led to a dark room. With a quick wave of his hand, he raised the lights.

  “My chambers are the biggest in Haven.” He realized what that sounded like and toned it down a notch. “I have my workrooms here, as well as a sitting room where I can receive visitors if needed.”