Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “I wondered if you were going to show any sign of rank. I think you should wear the crown. Father has a small circlet he wears on formal occasions, as do I. If you wear one, I’ll find mine.”

  Farrell selected the simplest circlet and laid it on his pillow before he put the box away. Miceral disappeared into his closet. He emerged with a small cloth bag. Unceremoniously, he dumped his crown on the pillow next to Farrell’s.

  Yar-del’s simple, everyday crown consisted of a band of gold that grew wider toward the front. Inlaid around the inside band, Kel had etched a spell for his heirs. Spoken in order, the words granted the wearer a bond to the lands of Yar-del. Once engaged, the spell endowed the ruler with the ability to know anything and everything that happened within the borders of the kingdom. With no kingdom left, Farrell had never invoked the words.

  “This one wasn’t used often by my mother or grandfather.” He held it up for Miceral to see. “And because it’s so plain, no one will recognize it and mark me as a child of the House of Kel.”

  Miceral’s crown seemed simple until Farrell looked closer. Running his fingers over the circlet, Farrell thought it felt like unicorn horns covered in gold.

  “They’re not real horns.” Miceral’s voice drew Farrell’s focus from the crown. “When a unicorn dies, their horn returns to Lenore, carrying the unicorn’s soul. Klissmor honored me by allowing a cast to be made of his horn for my crown.”

  Picking up Miceral’s crown, Farrell placed it gently on his soon-to-be life partner’s head. “You look amazing.”

  Blond hair and gold crown blended almost seamlessly, creating a halo effect around Miceral’s head. When he smiled, Miceral stole Farrell’s breath. A heartbeat later, his old insecurities rushed back. How could anyone that stunning see any worth in him? He felt plain, skinny, and unremarkable, nothing like the man before him.

  Lost in his thoughts, Farrell didn’t see Miceral move until he returned, Farrell’s crown in hand. “Since we’re crowning each other, it’s my turn.”

  Farrell felt the heavy metal band rest on his head. The velvet lining cushioned the weight, making it somewhat tolerable. Miceral bowed, then sank to his knee.

  “My handsome prince.” Miceral looked up at him. Farrell stared into the deep blue eyes, his fear melting way. “Unworthy as I am to be your life partner, I will strive every day to make you happy. You saved me from certain death, but more importantly, you cured my lonely heart. Never doubt you are worthy of my heart, for it will never belong to anyone else.”

  Tears formed at the edges of Farrell’s eyes as he swallowed twice to keep from crying. Unable to speak, he pulled Miceral to his feet. Despite wanting to say so much, he buried his face against Miceral’s neck. “I love you, Miceral.”

  He barely whispered the words, but he knew Miceral heard them. “I love you too.”

  Farrell held tight, unwilling to let go just yet. Before their ceremony, he had something he needed to do—something unsettling. When he could avoid it no more, he released Miceral and summoned two thick cloaks and two pairs of gloves.

  “Why are we going to Erstad’s quarters first?” Miceral asked. “Why don’t we just go directly to the temple?”

  Farrell touched an empty space on the wall opposite their bed. A Door opened, leading to a vacant corridor. “It’s what we’ve done every Winter and Summer Festival. Not sure it’s a good idea to break with tradition.”

  As Farrell planned, they exited just outside Erstad’s chambers, putting to rest any question that they’d skip meeting the others. Erstad greeted them wearing the white wizard’s robe Farrell had made for the occasion. Thin lines of silver thread made it sparkle when the light hit it just right.

  “You two look smart.” Erstad stepped back, letting his guests enter. Horgon and Lisle talked quietly in the next room. “And thank you both for this magnificent robe. All the silver makes it a bit heavy, but nothing the right spell didn’t fix.”

  Lisle, dressed in a pale blue dress adorned with tiny jewels and gold threads, looked nothing like the stern, iron-fisted housekeeper who had terrorized Farrell for years. It cost Farrell more than he’d paid her in five years, and he had to pull rank to have the most sought-after tailor in Haven make the dress in time. The tiara borrowed from Yar-del’s treasury completed her outfit and made sure his sponsor would look every bit the queen mother she stood in for.

  “Worth every copper we paid,” Farrell whispered to Miceral. Unable to hold it back, he broke into a huge smile as they made their way to Horgon and Lisle. “You look amazing.”

  The compliment prompted Lisle to turn a deep red. Staring at Farrell, she rolled her eyes.

  “Honestly, child, I won’t be around forever to make sure you’re presentable in public.” She moved his crown a fraction of an inch to the left, shaking her head. “You would think a simple thing like putting this on right would be something you could manage without my help.”

  Farrell didn’t even try to be contrite. He just kept smiling. Miceral quickly adjusted his crown, prompting the others to laugh.

  Coming from behind, Erstad put a hand on their backs. “We can leave when Wesfazial and Cylinda arrive.”

  Farrell’s good mood vanished as quickly as his smile. “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure you want to go this year?” Lisle rubbed Farrell’s hand. “I’m sure they’ll understand if you don’t want to ruin your day.”

  The silence of the room weighed on Farrell. He knew he could call it off with a word and that they all hoped he would. But despite how much it hurt, he needed to go.

  “Even though it spoils my mood, I won’t skip it. I need to speak to them. If anyone doesn’t want to come, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

  No one spoke, and Farrell thanked the Six for the rap on the door that broke the silence. He overheard hushed voices as Erstad spoke to the newcomers. When Miceral squeezed his hand, he managed a smile. Facing his past wouldn’t be easy, but with Miceral’s support, Farrell felt stronger than before.

  A big hand gripped his shoulder. “Ready, lad?” Wesfazial’s booming voice seemed softer, somber even. “Let’s go pay our respects.”

  Erstad touched a blank space on the wall, and Farrell felt him activate a permanent Door. Farrell adjusted his cloak and slipped on his gloves as the snowy mountainside shimmered into focus. Without looking back, he walked outside.

  The small plateau, perched a thousand feet above the Plains of Gharaha, stood barren but for the snow and three stone markers. Farrell had chosen this place to honor his mother and mentors because it could be reached only with the help of magic. Positioned at the far northern tip, the low headstones stood a solitary watch over the plains below.

  Farrell knelt before the first marker, a wave of sorrow crashing over him. Pushing the tears aside, he sniffed, struggling to keep his voice from cracking.

  “Hello, Mother. It’s me, Halloran. I know I don’t come up here often enough, but it’s painful visiting, knowing I failed you. Another Winter Festival, the tenth one since you died. I still miss you. There have been times when I dreamt you were still alive and your death was just a bad dream. Then I wake up and realize it was no dream. You’re gone, and I’m to blame.

  “Things are better now, Mother. I met someone special, someone who I know you’d like. His name is Miceral. I wish you could meet him. He’s kind, caring, thoughtful, and all he wants from me is to love him as much as he loves me.

  “It makes me sad that he can’t meet you. He’ll never see the beautiful person you were and how you taught me what it meant to be a ruler.” Farrell’s sinuses clogged up and his face tingled. Sniffing again, he used the edge of his cloak to prevent the tears from ruining his silk tunic. Swallowing loudly, he wiped his eyes before he could continue. “You were the most special person in the world to me, and I never told you. Now that I want to tell you, I can’t.”

  The words came out as a long sob, but Farrell prayed the Six let her hear him.

  “It will be hard walki
ng to the altar without you. You were supposed to be here to share today with me. I’m going to try to be happy. I know you’d want that. It’s easy to be happy around Miceral. He makes me smile and laugh all the time.”

  He looked to his left, and a brief smile touched his lips. Gathering his strength, he continued, “Today, when I join my life to his, I’m going to remember how much you loved me and how happy I know you’d be if you were here. I pray to Honorus that you’re somewhere happy. You deserve that much at least.

  “I love you, Mother.” Unable to hold back, he buried his face against his partner’s chest. Miceral’s strong arms gathered Farrell tight, allowing him to sob out his grief. “I miss her so much. Today it hurts worse than ever.”

  “I know, but you told her, and somehow I feel she heard you.” Miceral held Farrell until he finally gained control. He put a hand under Farrell’s chin and pushed it up. Kissing him gently, he said, “I know she meant a lot to you, and we won’t forget her. Together we’ll honor her memory every year. Every Winter Festival we’ll tell her what happened in our lives.”

  Farrell smiled, wiping the tears from his face. “I love you. You always have the words to help.”

  Moving to his right, he knelt beside the markers for Heminaltose and Sanduval. “What more can I say that I haven’t told you over the years? Today, I came to say thank you. Not only for helping make me the wizard I am, but also the man I’ve become. I want you to know I’ve almost completed your work. Next time, I won’t fail.”

  Before standing, Farrell said a silent prayer to Honorus and the other gods. Drained from the experience, he took Miceral’s hand. “We should go. It wouldn’t be right to be late for our ceremony.”

  OVER THE centuries, Winter Festival and Summer Festival became the days for couples to be joined. Well-to-do families scheduled private ceremonies. Everyone else had to attend a group session at one of the temples. Having the high priest or priestess of a temple preside over a union ceremony required a large donation to the temple coffers.

  Farrell’s union ceremony upended all the rules, a fact he wished he could change. Because of his pending union, none of the high prelates were available for private ceremonies.

  “Is it really necessary to have all the high priests and priestesses attend our ceremony?” From the daggers Glendora shot him, Farrell knew the answer. He looked around the small room but found no place to hide.

  “I’m not sure what possessed you to ‘inform’ Teclelion and Verona they were not needed.” Her expression grew harder. “As High Priest of Honorus, Teclelion is required to attend. The same for Verona. Miceral is a devotee of Lenore. How could Her High Priestess not be there?”

  “Priestess, forgive the boy.” Wesfazial’s smirk only made Farrell’s ears grow warmer. “Those in love rarely think with their heads.”

  “To answer the rest of your question, once Teclelion and Verona announced they would be in attendance, the other four temples asked to be included.” From her tone, Farrell knew she didn’t want them there, so why did she lecture him?

  “But they’re clear you’re the one who’ll join us.” Farrell had ended the bickering among the temples by telling them he and Miceral had selected Glendora to perform the ceremony.

  “They are, though they were not happy.” She seemed on the verge of smiling, but it never appeared.

  Miceral wrapped his arms around Farrell from behind. “We knew if we chose the head of any one temple, the other five would feel slighted.”

  “Child, I’m old enough to know why you selected me and young enough to be flattered by the request.”

  Before either could answer, the wooden door to the small room Teclelion had “loaned” them opened to admit Horgon.

  “Most of your guests have arrived.” He shook his head. “There have already been three arguments over who outranked who and thus deserved closer seating.”

  Farrell had to count down from ten to keep from going out and turning the lot of them into toads. “I thought we agreed there would be no assigned seating other than the three front rows reserved for our real friends.”

  “We did, and that’s what started the ruckus.” Horgon chuckled. “When your friends took their seats, other, more self-important guests began to complain. Evidently they had worked out a system where rank still prevailed. It took several angry looks from Takala and Grohl to restore order. No one confronts a mad peregrine willingly.”

  Turning to Glendora, Farrell spread his arms out in front of him. “Please let me turn them into donkeys. If they’re going to act this ill-mannered, they should be treated that way.”

  Glendora laughed so hard, Farrell thought she’d pass out. “Sorry, but you looked so earnest when you asked. But, no, you can’t turn them into anything, especially not in Honorus’s temple.”

  “Besides,” Miceral added, “you’ll end up insulting donkeys if you do, and they don’t deserve that.”

  Farrell began to pace around the small room. “We should have gotten joined in secret.”

  After his third circle, Miceral wrapped an arm around Farrell, forcing him to stop. “You’re making me dizzy.”

  “Unfortunately, young prince, your ceremony belongs to all of Haven,” Glendora said in a firm but motherly tone. “For good or ill, you are Lord of Haven. Your people need to feel a part of this union.”

  A knock preceded a young cleric of Honorus slowly opening the door. “Reverend Mother?”

  Glendora rolled her eyes at Farrell before she turned around. “Yes, child?”

  The priest never fully entered the room, staying with his hand on the door handle. “The Most Holy Father sent me to say we’re ready to begin.”

  “Excellent.” She pointed to everyone but the life partners-to-be. “You may tell Father Teclelion I’ll be out momentarily. I just need to send the participants to their places.”

  The others quietly followed the priest to the main temple. When just Horgon, Lisle, and Glendora remained with the soon-to-be-joined couple, the priestess smiled warmly and left with a nod.

  “Enjoy your day.” Horgon grabbed each by the shoulder. “I’m proud of you both.”

  Lisle fussed with Farrell’s tunic and crown. “There. Now you’re presentable.”

  He smiled, feeling more relaxed than a moment ago. “Thank you.”

  She gave him a wink. “Can’t have my charge looking less than perfect. The old biddies would never let me hear the end of it.”

  Lisle left the two alone for the few minutes before the ceremony started. With a grin and a twinkle in his eye, Miceral asked. “Ready?”

  “For what will come, not a chance; to leap into the unknown with you by my side, without a doubt.” He squeezed his partner’s hand, and they set out for their walk down the long central aisle, fingers still laced together.

  Everyone stood once Miceral and Farrell entered the temple proper. Glendora waited in front of the altar, the six temple heads behind her. Somewhere along the way, she had put on a beautifully embroidered green robe that reminded Farrell of new spring grass. The embroidery depicted scenes of the earth, both plants and animals—things dear to Lenore.

  “Slow down.” Miceral’s voice almost caused him to flinch. “This isn’t a race.”

  “It ought to be. I have plans for after the ceremony.” Farrell smiled at his partner and managed a small wink.

  Slowly, they made their way to the open space between the pews and the altar. Takala and Nerti waited to the right, while Grohl and Klissmor waited on Miceral’s side. Rothdin, beaming like a proud parent, stood behind Takala, nodding when Farrell looked in his direction.

  A few paces beyond their nonhuman family and friends, Lisle and Horgon stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the audience. Just before Farrell and Miceral reached their sponsors, the older pair stepped to the side and turned toward the altar.

  Glendora moved to the bottom step and motioned for everyone to be seated. “Welcome, friends and loved ones. And today everyone in Haven is a friend of thes
e two fine young men. We’re here for the joyous occasion of the union of Miceral and Farrell. This ceremony is about two becoming one.” She held her hands wide, and the priests and priestesses moved to her side. “In this union we seek the blessings of the Six.”

  The seven clerics joined hands and recited the traditional blessing together. “We, your humble servants, seek your blessing for this union today. Grant them a long and happy life together.”

  The six temple heads stepped back, leaving Glendora to perform the rites of union.

  “Who sponsors these two?” Glendora asked.

  Horgon and Lisle stepped forward. “We do.”

  “Who stands with Miceral?”

  “I, Horgon, father of Miceral, stand with him.” His booming voice filled the temple.

  “Who stands with Farrell?”

  “I, Lisle, friend of Farrell, stand with him.” Her voice dared someone to object.

  Glendora smiled at the four. “Do you both stand with them of your own free will?”

  “We do,” Horgon and Lisle said together.

  “Before today, have you been a part of their lives? Have you seen them together as a couple?”

  “We have.”

  “Do they each love as two who seek to be joined should?”

  “They do.”

  “Do you believe they are right for each other?”

  “They are.”

  “Do you believe they should join their lives together?”

  “They should.”

  “Will you do all you can to help them as they set off as one?”

  “We will.”

  Lisle and Horgon returned to their places a step behind Miceral and Farrell.

  “Are there any other family or friends who are here to stand with and support our couple?’

  Farrell’s adopted brothers and father as well as Nerti and Klissmor moved a pace closer.

  “There are.” The nonhuman voices were projected for all to hear.

  “And you, their family and closest friends, do you agree with the sponsors that Miceral and Farrell love each other and should join their lives together?”