Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Good.” Miceral still sounded anxious. “Don’t waste time down there. Figure out if it works and get back.”

  “Promise.”

  He felt Miceral’s grunt in his mind and choked off a laugh. He didn’t even know if he could laugh underwater, so he didn’t want to take the risk.

  Light from the sliver of a moon barely penetrated this far below the surface. It felt as though he floated in black ink. The drag from the ship’s movement left him at an angle that upset his sense of balance. It took several attempts to find the right spell before he could “stand” upright. He adjusted the rope so it ran up his back, and then closed his eyes to focus on how his body reacted to the situation.

  The energy hugged his body like a tight personal shield. He switched to wizard’s sight and gasped softly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He forgot Miceral could feel his surprise. “Nothing’s wrong. The spell changes the water into air and expels some kind of gas that slowly rises to the surface. It’s amazing.”

  Testing the spell, Farrell drew as deep a breath as he could. The exchange surged, as did the draw on his energy. “Well, that’s interesting.”

  “What now?” Miceral’s tense reply told him his partner didn’t share his excitement over this experiment.

  “The more air I need, the more energy the spell requires.”

  “Do you have enough?”

  “Easy, Ral. There is so much energy around me that I can replace what I use and have twice as much as when I started.”

  The silence lingered, and Farrell sensed Miceral’s tension.

  “I’m confident I won’t run out of air.” Grasping the end of the rope, he exerted his will and watched as power raced up toward the surface. “I’m going to test the second spell.”

  “How far down are you planning to go?”

  “As far as the rope will take me.”

  Farrell changed the spell that let him float and used it to pull him down. Within a few dozen feet, all hint of light vanished. He collected some of the energy around him and created a small glowing globe.

  A pair of large fish bolted, startling him. It took a moment for Farrell’s logical side to remind him his shields would repel any would-be attacker.

  “What just happened? And what are you doing to the rope?” Miceral asked.

  “I need to go deeper than the coil of rope would let me, so I put a spell on it to make it longer.”

  “How much longer?”

  Farrell laughed through their mental link. “I really don’t know. It won’t go on forever, maybe fifty or a hundred times longer than the original. Let me know when it gets close to the end. I don’t want to pull you in with me.”

  He vaguely heard Miceral’s answer, focusing instead on his surroundings. Still using his wizard’s sight, Farrell saw the vast amount of energy and life in what would appear to nonwizards to be empty water. The occasional fish would flash by, but otherwise he spent the time alone.

  The pressure he’d expected never materialized. He tried to gauge its effect on the spell, but his senses didn’t extend to the skin of energy surrounding him.

  “You’re running out of rope.”

  “Thanks.” He slowed his descent until he came to a stop. Estimating the exact distance proved difficult, but he had a reasonable idea. “I don’t know how deep I’ll need to go, but I’m about two thousand feet down now.”

  “And?”

  Breathing deeply, he scanned his body. “Everything feels normal. It’s like I’m back on deck with you.”

  “How long do you plan to stay down there?”

  “I don’t know.” He scanned his surroundings again. “I’m as far down as I can go and everything is working as expected. There doesn’t seem any point to staying longer.”

  “Then come back.”

  He felt Miceral tug on the rope. “Okay, but let me handle the ascent.”

  Casting a spell he’d prepared for this moment, he let the rope pull him upward. Farrell continued his observations, knowing it would take some time to get to the surface. As on the way down, he saw very little. He extinguished his globe when he saw the first hint of light above him.

  “I’m almost to the surface. Is it safe for me to come up?”

  “Yes. There’s no one around.”

  Using the rope to pull himself up, Farrell smiled at the shock on Peter’s face when he appeared on deck. When Farrell jumped up, Peter nearly knocked him back over the rail.

  Miceral pulled him into a bear hug. “Everything go as expected?”

  Planting a kiss on Miceral’s cheek, Farrell slowly untied the rope. “Different, but no problems. The spell to ward off the pressure from the deep felt weird.”

  “Weird?” Miceral gathered the rope into a coil. “How so?”

  Farrell stared at his partner as he wrapped the wet rope into a bundle. “I feared I would get hot wrapped inside the energy skin, but there was no heat buildup.”

  “That’s good, right?” Miceral tied off the rope, and the three started walking.

  “I’m not sure. Kel suggested the farther down you went, the colder the water would be. But I couldn’t feel any change.”

  “Maybe you didn’t go down far enough?” Peter said, drawing a glare from Miceral.

  “Perhaps. Or the shield could have kept me warm. I don’t know.”

  They walked by several sailors who nodded as they passed.

  “What else happened?” Miceral kept a tight grip on Farrell’s hand.

  Although his partner couldn’t see it, Farrell’s smile grew. “Nothing. The shield absorbed the water pressure like a sponge. I could sense the water squeezing the shield, but I felt nothing. Hopefully it works equally well tomorrow.”

  He regretted adding the last part even before he saw the scowl on Miceral’s face.

  Miceral opened the door to their cabin. “Hopefully.”

  FARRELL SET a large tray down on the small table the three used for their meals. “I asked Nerti to have the cooks at Haven prepare this for us. Having no idea how long I’ll be down there, I thought something high in protein would help keep my energy levels up.”

  “You mean we could have had them make food for us all this time?” Peter’s indignation didn’t stop him from grabbing a large pastry filled with meat and cheese.

  “Unless you’ve learned how to fetch, I don’t know how we could have brought anything in every day.” He didn’t wait for an answer and grabbed two large boiled eggs. Yes, it had been a bother for his staff, but he asked very little of them compared to most rulers. Facing the unknown on a full stomach meant one less worry.

  “We’re your guards, not your valets.” Miceral didn’t look up from the eggs he was peeling. “Of course, you could ask Wilhelm to pay us to fetch you meals from Belsport. Let me know how that conversation goes.”

  Farrell nearly choked as he watched Peter glare at them both before taking a huge bite. The younger man’s face softened as he chewed.

  “Forgot how real food tastes, didn’t you?” Farrell gave him a wink and picked up a pastry from the tray. “I went on enough ocean voyages to know how quickly ship fare kills your sense of taste. Enjoy it. You might not get anything like this again until we reach Dumbarten.”

  Conversation dried up as they focused on their breakfast. Despite his looming departure, Farrell felt more at peace seeing Miceral enjoy his food. He knew the good mood would pass when he had to leave, but he still appreciated the moment.

  When they finished everything on the tray, he flicked his hand and sent the empty platter back to Haven. No one spoke as he brushed his teeth and collected a few things he wanted to take along. As he stuffed Kel’s book in his endless pocket, he felt a now-familiar presence.

  “They’re here.” Farrell noted the worried look on his partner’s face and motioned for Peter to step out. When just of the two them remained, he said, “I promise to be careful.”

  “You’ve said that before.” Miceral pointed to Farrell’s ha
nds. “Try harder this time.”

  Keeping his gaze locked on Miceral’s, Farrell leaned closer for a kiss. “I will,” he whispered as they pulled back. “We should go. If the crew sees the dolphins, it might be a problem.”

  Peter was standing by the door when they exited. The three of them quietly made their way to the bow, where Farrell felt the dolphins’ presence. Although he couldn’t see them, he could feel their apprehension as they stayed just below the surface.

  “Remember your promise.” Miceral took a step forward, then stopped. “If your spells start to fail or things get too dangerous, you’re to open a Door and get someplace safe.”

  “I promise, my love,” he whispered. The urge to kiss Miceral nearly overpowered him. “I should go.”

  Nodding to Peter, he vaulted the railing and magically lowered himself into the water. Two dolphins broke from the surface and swam toward him.

  “Chosen, hold on to both of us and we can begin.”

  They assumed positions on either side of him, and as soon as he had a firm grip, their powerful tails propelled them forward. The Seafoam Rose looked small and distant when he turned his head for one last glance at Miceral.

  “Prepare yourself, Chosen. We are about to go under the waves.”

  A moment after the warning, the dolphins pulled Farrell beneath the surface. Despite the spells, he felt a brief surge of panic as water covered his head. He forced himself to breathe and began to relax when his lungs filled normally.

  Moving faster than he thought possible, Farrell watched the water slowly get darker the deeper they went. A scan of himself and the spells allayed any lingering fears. Both spells worked as expected. Beyond his shield, the sea bristled with unclaimed energy and tiny, almost invisible forms of life. Seeing all the free power, Farrell thought about the debates he and Master Sanduval had over the collection spell they devised.

  Twice he tried to contact Miceral through their link but never made a connection. His attempts to reach Nerti’s mind also failed. “Do you know why I can’t contact my friends?”

  “To answer that, we would need to know how you communicate with them.”

  Feeling foolish, he realized they wouldn’t be able to answer. “Of course.”

  With no way to answer the question, he turned his thoughts to his surroundings. The spell he’d used at Belsport threatened to turn the hunt for energy into a race to bind territory to a single wizard’s will. He and his former master spent many hours discussing the ramifications of the spell. By effectively locking out all others from a specific territory, a new order would arise among the haves and the have-nots. New wizards would need to apprentice themselves to older ones to gain access to stores of power or seek out places not yet bound. Monarchs could order their territory bound to a central source, like he’d done in Belsport, then give access only to those who swore fealty to the crown.

  Since only power created internally escaped the reach of the spell, a new discipline of magic would emerge. Clothing, bedding, tools, books would all be subjected to spells designed to catch and redirect even the smallest specks of power. Wars would likely erupt for control of particularly fertile areas. Seeing the vast amounts of unclaimed power around him, however, Farrell wondered if these concerns were still valid.

  It was all but impossible, even with the spells he’d learned from Kel, to reach, much less bind the ocean floor. Any wizard in need of power could simply take to ship, sail far enough out to sea, and harvest all they could manage.

  As it always did, this line of thought made his mind reel. Refocusing his attention on what was happening around him, he realized they’d stopped their descent. They still moved at a speed that would make the fastest sailing ship jealous, but he lost track of their direction. Nor could he effectively judge how much time had elapsed since they left the Seafoam Rose.

  As the minutes passed, thoughts of unclaimed power gave way to a different concern. “Excuse my ignorance, but don’t you both need to breathe?”

  “We who serve the Blessed Mother can go for many parts of a light cycle before we need to return to the surface.” Farrell couldn’t tell which of his guides spoke. “Others will take our place before that becomes necessary.”

  Farrell noticed the other dolphins in the pod shadowed the trio, swimming in a protective semicircle around them. Their graceful motions belied the speed they maintained. “How far are we from our goal?”

  “We near the point where we will turn you over to another.”

  A few minutes later, the dolphins slowed their pace noticeably. In the dim light, Farrell didn’t see the small box-like structure until they came to a stop. It reminded him of a coffin floating upright. But the lack of magic in the area left him baffled as to how it remained in its place.

  As they drifted closer, more details came into focus. Approximately seven feet tall and three feet wide, the “box” seemed to be a guard station. Farrell created a globe of green light and noticed a long cord attached to the bottom of the box that disappeared into the water below.

  “Hail, Chosen of our great goddess, Arritisa.” This voice felt different from the dolphins. More human. And male. Searching, he grew frustrated when he couldn’t locate the speaker.

  “Hail, servant of Arritisa.” His annoyance seeped into his greeting.

  Suddenly he noticed the guardhouse spun slowly clockwise. The outline of an opening emerged, and he almost jumped when he saw someone standing in the box. The creature—he didn’t quite know what to call it—ducked to exit the structure. Stepping in the water, the sentry moved forward as if on a platform.

  Dressed in a uniform made of something Farrell didn’t recognize, the guard held a long three-pronged spear in his right hand. Hairless, the soldier had small nubs where Farrell expected to see ears. In place of a nose, two slits flared in sync with what appeared to be breathing. The glow from the wizard’s light cast a sea-green tint to his host’s skin. Only when he changed the color of his light to white did Farrell realize the guard’s skin was greenish.

  Knowing he stared, he made eye contact with his host. He smiled when he noticed the guard giving him the same once-over. Two rows of thin, pointy teeth smiled back at him.

  “I trust you find my appearance as odd as I find yours.” His smile widened as he laughed mentally in Farrell’s mind. “I am Argus, Lord of the Western March of Rastoria.”

  Argus brought both hands together in front of his face and spread his webbed fingers wide. Resting his lips on the tips of his first two fingers, he lowered his hands and bowed his head.

  “The blessings of my master, Honorus, to you and your people.” Farrell tried to imitate Argus’s greeting. “I am Farrell, Lord of Haven, Servant of Honorus, and Chosen of Arritisa.

  Argus nodded his smooth head slightly to the left and stared at Farrell for a long moment. The almost all-black eyes had a thin circle of white around the edges. The silent stare continued long enough that Farrell wondered if he’d insulted Argus.

  “Allow me to release my friends before we continue.” Argus turned to the dolphins, who bobbed their heads and quickly swam off. “Now, it is left to me to bear you the rest of the way.”

  If not for the amused lilt to Argus’s voice, Farrell might have worried when his new guide bared his pointy teeth again.

  “I’m grateful for the help.” Help doing what exactly, he didn’t know. “Forgive my earlier staring. My people have no knowledge of your existence. This is an astounding discovery for me.”

  “The blessed goddess has preserved the secret of our existence since the dawn of time. Had not our Lady commanded we reveal ourselves to you, we would be hidden still.”

  “I am honored by the privilege you bestow upon me and will do my utmost to preserve your secret.”

  Argus made a sound that felt like laughter. “Your oath is noble but not warranted. Our Lady has decreed we are to aid Her Chosen in the coming war.”

  The revelation froze Farrell’s thoughts as he considered the implications
of what he’d just heard. Finally, he managed an absent nod to acknowledge Argus’s pledge.

  “Come, this is not the place to talk of such matters.” Argus extended his left hand. The webbing between his long fingers extended halfway to the tips. “Take my hand and I’ll take you to our fair city, where the king and high priestess can explain in full.”

  Mindful of the membrane he noticed between Argus’s fingers, Farrell tentatively accepted his guide’s hand.

  “Fear not, Chosen, you cannot harm my hand.” He laughed again. “We Arlefors are a hardy race.”

  Argus’s viselike grip reinforced his words. He effortlessly rotated his body until his head faced the ocean floor. With far less grace, Farrell did likewise, evoking an amused face from his guide. “If you are ready, we shall proceed.”

  Farrell kicked his feet as Argus propelled them toward the bottom of the ocean.

  “Your assistance is not necessary, Chosen. I can easily bear us to our destination.”

  Slightly embarrassed, Farrell turned his attention to his surroundings. In the growing darkness, he realized he’d left his globe of light back at the guardhouse. “If I create more light so I can see, will that cause you problems?”

  “No and yes.” Argus turned his head toward Farrell for a moment. “We can see in the bright light found on the surface, but we can see better down in our world.”

  “Better for you to see well than for both of us to see poorly.” Farrell used a variation of his spell to increase how far he could see. He adjusted the magic twice before the world around him came into focus. Far below, he saw what looked like a cluster of light.

  “Are those lights I see?”

  “Indeed, Chosen. That is Rastoria, the home of my people and our destination.”

  A city at the bottom of the ocean? He’d never come across even a whiff of a rumor of such a thing. Then again, nothing had mentioned Arlefors either. The light increased as they neared their destination, allowing the outline of a large city to take shape.

  “Amazing.” Bubbles escaped his mouth, drawing a look from his guide. Argus smiled but said nothing.