Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Let me guess. Wilhelm felt he’d won.” Farrell shook his head. “But it was creative.”

  “And fair.” Miceral chuckled at his joke.

  “Can I send back that we accept?” Horgon handed Farrell a pen. “I kept the page waiting for our response.”

  “That sure I’d agree, were you?” Farrell glanced up before signing the paper. Wiggling his finger, he conjured a dollop of wax next to his name, followed by Heminaltose’s seal for Haven. “Given how much this will cost them, I think we did quite well.”

  “I agree.” Scanning the sheet, Horgon nodded. “Everyone feeling like they won made these negotiations very easy. Oh, one item I think you overlooked.”

  Following Horgon’s finger to a line near the bottom, Farrell saw what he’d missed. “A lifetime supply of coffee? Did you point out to the prince I might live for a thousand years?”

  Horgon stifled a laugh. “Keep reading.”

  “I have to provide a lifetime of repairs, should they be needed.” Farrell rolled his eyes. “As if there will be a need for any repairs.”

  “Wilhelm thought himself most clever.” Horgon disappeared out the door and returned half a minute later. “Everything about the deal was almost half-comedy. We get ten pounds of fish, beef, and chicken for every stone for as many years as there are stones. Everything was tied to the finished product.”

  “Considering I’d have given it to them for free, I guess we acquitted ourselves well.”

  Horgon nodded. “You did. Now get washed and changed. There’s a state dinner to celebrate the new accord.”

  Farrell stifled a groan when he heard “state dinner.” He had no choice, given the occasion, but that didn’t mean he wanted to attend.

  “Oh, before you go, Farrell.” Horgon pulled another sheet of paper from the pile. “We agreed to set up a trading company controlled in equal shares by both you and Wilhelm’s house.”

  “How did you manage that?” Farrell smiled as he read the page. “I thought for sure he’d balk at the idea, given how his merchant class is likely to react.”

  “The crown buys most of the timber and raw materials used in Belsport and sells it for a minimal profit.” Horgon motioned for him to keep reading. “If merchants don’t want to sell the Royal Trading Company items for sale in Haven, they can miss out on the sales. Same with our people. All raw materials from Haven will pass through the joint entity.”

  “Excellent job, Fa—Horgon.” Farrell frowned at the near slip, focusing on signing the document. When he brought the paper up, Horgon stared at him. The edge of his lips curled up.

  “Thank you, son.” A wink later, he collected his papers and moved to his room in their suite.

  THE TIME after a meal when everyone made small talk always frustrated Farrell. Given his station and age, he found it hard to relate to others at most functions. He noticed Horgon sitting with Wilhelm, and from what he heard in passing, they were discussing their common experience being widowers. Miceral, always at ease around others, entertained Alicia, Peter, and Darius with a lively story that had them all amused. Rather than find a place to fit in, Farrell moved to the balcony to take in the sea-tinged air.

  “Prince Farrell.” He jumped when Peter called his name.

  Though more than a decade older than the teen, he bowed politely to show proper manners. “Hello, Your Highness. What brings you away from the others?”

  Peter’s face lost most of its color, and he swallowed loudly. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  Peter stood rooted to the spot, looking anywhere but at Farrell. “You’re not disturbing me, especially not when I’m invading your home.” When Peter looked up, Farrell motioned for him to join him. “I’m not very good at mingling, so I decided to come outside.”

  Moving closer, Peter reminded Farrell of himself at that age. Tall, gangly, a hint of facial hair—enough to show, but hard to shave. His hair showed the effects of the sun, typical of youth in port cities.

  “I had hoped to talk to you alone.” Twisting back the way he’d come, Peter scrunched up his face when he noted the others in earshot. “But there isn’t enough privacy anywhere in this room.”

  “Can it wait until tomorrow, or do you need me to”—Farrell waved his hand in tight circles in front of his face—“do something to make sure we’re not heard?”

  Keeping his gaze out to sea, Peter took a moment to answer. “What would you do? If you make it obvious, Father will want to know what we’re doing.”

  “How do you feel about flying?” Farrell whispered.

  “Flying?” Peter blinked twice. “What does that mean?”

  “I was thinking about seeing Belsport from above and wondered if you’d like to join me. I promise it will be an amazing view.” Lowering his voice again, he said, “And no one will be able to hear our conversation.”

  Peter let out a nervous laugh, then nodded.

  “Give me a moment.” Farrell made his way to where Wilhelm still spoke with Horgon.

  “Excuse me, Prince Wilhelm.” He waited until the prince looked up. “I was talking to your son about what the city looks like from above, and he expressed an interest in seeing it for himself. Since he is a minor, I thought it best to get your permission before he and I flew off.”

  “Flew off?” Wilhelm jerked his head back slightly. “You mean you want to take him flying?”

  “He expressed an interest, and I could do with a bit of air.”

  “Bored again, are you?” Horgon smirked.

  “I’m trying, Father, but formal state affairs always tax my patience.”

  “I assume this is completely safe?” Peter’s father, not the Prince of Belsport, asked this question.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I would not do anything to put your son and heir at risk.”

  Wilhelm looked toward his son. He smiled and gave the anxious teen a nod. “This is a pleasant development. Peter has been so withdrawn since his mother’s death, but he seems comfortable around you. Thank you for helping him.”

  Farrell bowed and returned to the balcony.

  “What did you say?” Peter’s eyes darted from Farrell to his father.

  “Just that I mentioned flying and you expressed an interest.” Since the sun had gone down, the temperature was dropping, so Farrell fetched them each a cloak. “It gets colder the higher up we go.”

  Attaching his cloak, Peter asked, “What do I do?”

  “Nothing other than hold my hand.” Peter seemed tentative, but he eventually accepted Farrell’s hand. “Don’t look so worried. It’s a simple thing. Once I learned how to do it, I would fly up to the highest places just to get away. Ready?”

  It took an effort not to laugh when Farrell saw Peter swallow hard before nodding. Farrell did his best not to jolt Peter as they moved off the ground, but it didn’t help.

  “Easy on that hand, Peter, I’ll want it back when we’re done.” Farrell hoped the joke would ease Peter’s worries, but the younger prince kept his viselike grip.

  Clear of the balcony and away from the tower walls, they quickly gained height. Within moments, Farrell had them higher than the tallest tower in the Citadel. Eyes wide, jaw slightly open, Peter seemed to relax as he took in the city below.

  “This is amazing.” A smile plastered on his face, Peter only spared the barest of glances at Farrell.

  Taking them north first, Farrell then moved west toward the ocean. “I thought we could talk over the water. That way only the fish will hear what we say.”

  Once beyond the outer walls, Farrell increased their speed, causing their cloaks to flutter loudly behind them. When they couldn’t see the lights from the city, Farrell slowly brought them to a halt.

  “This is as private as I can find.” He winked at Peter, who still seemed tense. “Hopefully it meets your approval.”

  The sound of gentle waves went unbroken as Peter stared into the ocean.

  “You don’t have to tell me, you know.” Whatever bothered him, Farr
ell didn’t want to press him to talk about it. “We really can just fly around for a bit more, then go back.”

  “No.” With panic in his voice, Peter shook his head vigorously. “I want… need to tell you.”

  Peter sighed. Staring down again, he nodded several times and turned his face up. “I think I want to join with a man, not a woman. But, as Prince of Belsport, I can’t possibly be like that, because I have to have children, a son specifically, to carry on the line. Many children, to hear my teachers speak. Father will be furious, and I don’t know what to do. There is no one to talk to about it.”

  Raising his hand so Peter could see it, Farrell got his friend to stop speaking. “Slow down. One thought at a time. You think you like men or you’re sure you do? Sometimes when we’re young, our feelings are a mess and are hard to sort out. I used to think I was attracted to girls, even though I always looked at the handsome men.”

  “I’m sure.” Another sigh followed his answer.

  “Can I ask how you know for sure?” Sensing Peter might not answer, he quickly added, “Is there someone you’ve been with or you’re seeing now?”

  Even in the dim light, Farrell could see Peter blush. “There’s this son of a wealthy merchant, Pervis. He’s almost eighteen. We’ve been together a couple of times.”

  “Okay,” Farrell mumbled, lost suddenly in a memory.

  “That’s it?” Peter moved his head back. “Just ‘okay,’ nothing else?”

  “Sorry.” He tried to shake the memory, but it stayed fresh in his mind. “Your biggest fear is your father’s reaction.”

  “Of course.” Peter seemed to tense up again. “He’s going to banish me, send me to a temple, or disown me and marry again, hoping to produce a proper heir. My life is ruined. Why did this happen to me?”

  “I think you misjudge your father.” Maybe because his mother had reacted so well, Farrell expected the same from Wilhelm, but he didn’t believe Wilhelm would disown his son. “Admittedly, I’ve known him a very short time, but last night, you might have missed it, but I could see how proud he was of you and your ability to understand what we talked about. That wasn’t the reaction of a ruler first, father second. So I think he’ll understand enough to work through this with you.”

  “Right.” Sarcasm dripped from the word even as Peter frowned. “He’ll just accept that I’m not going to produce an heir.”

  “There are ways around succession issues, and your father is smart enough to know how to deal with this.” Farrell noticed the barest reflection of light from Peter’s cheek. Using his free hand, he wiped the tears from his friend’s face. “Peter, I know what this feels like, you know I do, or else you wouldn’t have sought me out. It’ll be okay.”

  Peter sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve. “No, it won’t. I’m not a grand master wizard who’ll live forever. Father can’t take the risk, so he’ll find a new heir.”

  “If you don’t get to be Prince of Belsport, so what?” Noting the shocked look on Peter’s face, he smiled. “Even if he won’t let you be prince, your father won’t leave you penniless. You’re smart and capable. I’ve no doubt you’d end up a very wealthy merchant at a minimum. And with me as your friend, you’ll always have a home, no matter who you join with.”

  “I wish I could believe my father will accept me.” Through their joined hands, Farrell could feel Peter trembling. “But he’s prince first and father second. As prince, this won’t be acceptable.”

  “We could speculate until a storm blows over us, but we won’t know until you speak to him.” Farrell knew Peter would resist, but he had to tell Wilhelm.

  “Are you mad?” This far out to sea, Peter’s voice carried a long way. “Weren’t you listening? I’m not going to tell him.”

  “You need to tell him, Peter. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to deal with.” He debated not telling the young prince what he really thought but decided Peter needed to hear it. “Given your father understands the value of information, do you really think you can keep this from him forever? I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew.”

  For the first time, Farrell saw terror in Peter’s face. “Do you really think he knows? We were careful! Very careful!” Peter’s voice got higher as his fear increased.

  “I can’t say, but it would be prudent to expect he does.” Had Peter been thinking more clearly, Farrell knew he’d agree. “How much that goes on in Belsport slips past your father and his informants?”

  “Great Arritisa, how can this be happening?” Peter almost tore his hand free, forcing Farrell to tighten his grip to keep the prince from falling into the water. “Can you take me to Haven? If he knows, I can’t go back.”

  “Before you decide to move to Haven, wouldn’t it make sense to find out if you even need to?” Farrell tried to keep his tone light, hoping Peter would calm down. “How awful would it be to flee Belsport only to learn later that your father wasn’t upset?”

  “I can’t tell him.” He shook his head fast.

  “Avoiding this only makes it worse. Your father’s reaction will be the same no matter when he finds out, but how he learns it might make a difference. Trusting him is the first step toward gaining his acceptance.”

  “What if I go to Haven while you tell him?” Peter’s eyes pleaded with Farrell.

  “It’s not my place to tell him.” He pulled Peter into a hug. “You know it has to come from you.”

  “You’re right, but I’m scared.” Head against Farrell’s chest, Peter began to sob. Farrell gently rubbed his back, waiting for Peter to stop. When the tears ceased, Peter sniffed before he pulled back. “I told my mother before she died. She told me to tell him, that he loved me more than I knew.” Tears started to roll down his cheeks again. “I miss her, Farrell.”

  Farrell’s stomach twisted, and his chest felt heavy. Forcing down the bile that crept up his throat, he tried to speak. Unsure his voice would hold, Farrell whispered, “I understand what that feels like.”

  Staring at the half moon reflecting off the water, he realized how much he had in common with Peter. “When I told my mother, she took me to the water’s edge, because that’s where she found peace when she was upset.”

  Closing his eyes, Farrell took a deep breath. “There is a serenity out here that puts all things in perspective. Before us, the ocean was; after us, it will still be. The sea doesn’t care who we love or even that we love. It’s not concerned with princes or wizards or the insignificant wars of humans. When placed in context of the boundless life that exists in total ignorance of us, our small problems are meaningless. Whatever happens will happen. You will never be able to move on while you struggle to find a way to address your problem. Think on it, and if you like, we can speak to your father before I leave.”

  Peter turned his head in all directions before settling on Belsport. “Tonight I feel strong enough to tell him. If you would be there for me, I would appreciate it.”

  “Of course.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Farrell forced himself to smile. “I’ll ask Miceral to let your father know you want to speak to him in private.”

  Farrell went slower on the way back to give Peter time to compose himself. As they crossed the entrance to the port, he spotted Prince Wilhelm standing on the balcony they had left from.

  “An interesting way for my son to speak with you in private.” Wilhelm turned and walked back inside. Peter glanced over but seemed to stand taller as he followed his father.

  “I asked everyone to excuse us since you asked to speak to me alone.” Wilhelm’s voice held only concern. “I assume you asked Farrell to remain, or else his upbringing would have compelled him to leave.”

  “Yes, Father, I asked him to stay.” Peter moved closer to Wilhelm. “He’s the one who convinced me to speak to you.”

  Wilhelm stepped closer and put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “I know I’ve not been the most approachable since your mother died. Part of that is because I miss her too. Whatever you tell me wo
n’t change how I feel about you. You’ll always be my son, and I will always love you.”

  Peter’s face wavered between a smile and tears. Farrell heard him swallow, then exhale. “I… I don’t want to join with a woman, Father. I prefer men.”

  Wilhelm cocked his head to the right, staring at his son. Finally, a smile crossed his lips. “I already knew that, son.”

  “You… you knew?

  “Yes.” Wilhelm looked relieved. “Your mother told me before she died. She made me promise not to talk to you about it until you were ready to tell me. To allow you time to tell me when it was right for you.”

  “She promised she wouldn’t tell you—”

  Wilhelm put his hand up. “She loved you very much, Peter, and wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get mad when you told me. I’m not sure why everyone thinks I’d be angry with you. I understand this is nothing you chose, but it’s who you are. I might not be pleased about it and might wish it weren’t the case, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  Farrell watched as Peter’s expression went from terror to shock to a smile that threatened to split his face in two.

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m ashamed at what I thought would happen when I told you.” Peter hung his head, no longer looking at his father.

  Wilhelm placed a finger under his son’s chin and tilted it up. “I’m not so old that I forget how hard it was being your age. Losing your mother has been hard for all of us, but I hope you know now that you can tell me anything.”

  Instead of answering, Peter lurched forward to his father. Wilhelm returned the embrace, kissing the top of his son’s head.

  “That was all you wanted to tell me?” Wilhelm asked when Peter stepped back.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Wilhelm’s smile disappeared, and he nodded slowly. “I’m glad we had this chat tonight, because if we hadn’t, tomorrow I would’ve had to confront you on this issue.”

  “Wh-why?”

  “Yesterday, when I returned from Haven, I had a meeting with Master Kaleb and his son Pervis.”