Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Farrell won’t live long enough for—”

  “Stop!” Klissmor’s barked command felt like a slap to the head. “Maintaining our link at such a distance is extremely taxing. Even with Nerti’s support, we may only get one attempt to send you help. You must do as I say or we may not save your mate.”

  Emotions flooded Miceral, almost drowning his ability to act. Alerted to the problem, he suddenly heard the depth of his friend’s exhaustion in every word. But the last four words washed those concerns away.

  Not save Farrell? Fear gripped him like a vise and threatened to rob him of his will to act. A mental nudge steadied him just before he froze in panic. Steeling himself, he blinked as he realized he’d contributed to Klissmor’s exhaustion with his need. He swallowed and breathed in deeply. When his lungs screamed in protest, he exhaled the salty air. “I understand. What do you need me to do?”

  “Erstad needs to enter your mind and use your eyes to open the Door.”

  Despite his promise to cooperate, Miceral felt his chest seize at the idea. “I… I’ll do whatever…. If Farrell needs….”

  “I shall never leave you, friend.”

  Klissmor’s words soothed him enough that he could nod. “Thank you.”

  “I am not a foolish unicorn. Nerti would horn me many times if I failed you.”

  Miceral laughed at the image and felt his body relax. “What must I do?”

  “Relax and let me guide you both.”

  Klissmor’s touch barely registered. He could feel the other mind at the edge of his consciousness, but like a puff of wind, it eluded him.

  “Turn in a circle slowly so we may see our options.” The voice sounded like Klissmor’s, but someone else spoke.

  Shamed by his friend’s willingness to dare any risk to save Farrell, Miceral did as instructed. Ignoring the questioning look he received from Teberus, Miceral completed a full rotation and waited.

  “Turn to your left and let me see the main deck again.”

  Silently Miceral completed the turn, a baby step at a time.

  “Stop!” Expecting the command, Miceral remained in position. “Hold it there until I’m finished.”

  Standing still, he wondered if he’d feel the magic. After a moment passed without anything happening, Miceral remembered the Door originated in Haven. Erstad didn’t need to work his magic through the link.

  Staring expectantly, he was still surprised by the flash.

  “I’ve done all I can for now,” Klissmor said, his voice harsh and strained. “I will rest now and make contact later.”

  The touch of the other mind in his faded before Miceral could say thank you. Seeing the Door open, Miceral realized what lay on the other side. “Peter?”

  “Yes, Mic—Elgin?” Miceral almost didn’t notice the use of his true name.

  “We’re leaving. Can you get a crew member to help you fetch our things?”

  “Leaving?”

  “That Door leads to Haven. We can treat Farrell there.” He turned toward the Arlefor wizard. “We’re taking Farrell home.”

  “A moment, please.” Teberus placed a hand on Miceral’s arm. “I’d recommend against such an action. The deed occurred here. Any residual power from the spell will only be accessible here.”

  “Then we can come back.” Miceral didn’t care about anything but getting Farrell to safety. “Erstad can stay here and gather what he needs.”

  “Again, I’d recommend against that.”

  “Against what?” The voice from behind him wasn’t Erstad’s.

  “Cylinda?” Anger trumped Miceral’s surprise. “Where’s Erstad?”

  “Holding the Door open in Haven.”

  “Why are you…?” Her glare stole his voice. The concern etched on her face seemed the mirror of his.

  “I’m a wizard healer. I have the best chance of saving him.” She nearly choked on the last two words. Miceral watched her blink several times. “Please step aside.”

  “No!” He saw her flinch and softened his tone. “We’re taking him to Haven. He’ll be safer there.”

  “I know not what you two say, but I want to reiterate my strong belief that the Chosen is better served if he remains here.”

  “By the Six! What is the cause of this insanity?” Looking to Cylinda for support, Miceral found none. “He needs to go home!”

  “I agree with Teberus.” She turned to the Arlefor who loomed over Miceral’s shoulder. “We need to keep him here to be sure we don’t miss anything.”

  “This makes no sense.”

  “Because you’re not a wizard.” Cylinda’s tone was patient yet firm. “Miceral, you must trust that we also care about Farrell and would do nothing to jeopardize his life. I know your instincts say to take him home, but keeping him here, right where he is, is the best thing until we figure out what exactly happened.”

  The plea in her voice matched the one he saw in her expression. Unable to formulate an argument to counter hers, he nodded and stepped aside.

  Visibly relieved, Cylinda seemed to fly to Farrell’s prone form. Gently she brushed aside a lock of hair and rested her hand against his chin. She swallowed hard, and Miceral saw her wipe away a tear that slowly rolled out of her eye.

  Her attention stayed locked on Farrell’s face for a bit longer. Miceral couldn’t tell what she saw, but he detected nothing encouraging in her body language. Finally, she jerked her head up and looked at Teberus.

  Cylinda’s gaze moved from the Arlefor to Farrell and back. She gestured with her hands around the torso of the body before her. When he looked up again, Teberus shrugged.

  “What’s happening?” Miceral asked when his frustration threatened to explode his head. Teberus looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

  With a glance toward her fellow wizard, Cylinda stood up. “I’m sorry, Miceral. Teberus can’t understand when we speak aloud, and I can’t talk to you and mentally to him at once.”

  “By the Six!” Even outside Northhelm, when they’d all expected to die, he hadn’t felt this close to losing it. “I don’t care about that! Tell me what’s wrong with him!”

  “The short answer is, I don’t know.” She held up a hand, cutting off another profanity-laced rant. “Yelling at me won’t help me figure it out. Clearly there is a complicated spell involved, and I don’t want to rush to a decision.”

  “But….” He couldn’t bring himself to say what he thought.

  “Miceral, please.” Something in her voice told him the plea was more than just professional. Cylinda’s pain almost mirrored his own.

  “I’m… I’ll….” He swallowed loudly and nodded. “Let me know when you learn something.”

  “Of course.” Cylinda turned her attention back to Farrell. Teberus knelt across from her, and the two began pointing and touching Farrell in various places.

  Miceral remained close for a time, just in case. As the minutes dragged on, he felt himself inching closer, as if he could see what the wizards saw. Finally he backed away, recognizing he would only hinder the pair.

  CYLINDA HAD been on board the Rose a while when an Arlefor tapped Master Teberus on the shoulder. Even Miceral could tell the wizard looked startled. After a moment the second Arlefor left, and Teberus stood up.

  With a slight bow to Cylinda, he took three long steps and disappeared over the rail. Miceral’s hopes for an update were quickly dashed when Cylinda tucked her head down and returned her attention to Farrell.

  “He’s not just a friend or shield mate, is he?” Emerson’s voice barely registered at first.

  Slowly Miceral turned his head toward the first officer. “Does it matter?”

  “No, Miceral, it does not.” Emerson arched an eyebrow. “But as I suspected, neither you nor Farrell were who you seemed.”

  Miceral restrained the impulse to snap the man’s neck. “You play a dangerous game, friend. Do you really want to pick a fight with me now?”

  “I have no desire to spar with you at all. I’m merely pointing
out that your true identities have been revealed.” He continued to stare at Miceral for another few moments, then looked at where the others knelt beside Farrell. “Whoever you may be, Arritisa clearly has blessed you both. I—the entire crew of the Rose—owe you our lives. For what it’s worth, the crew is saying prayers to Arritisa for his recovery.” Emerson didn’t wait for an answer; he wouldn’t have gotten one if he had.

  Time felt as if it had stopped moving. The ship bobbed on the water, the crew moved around, but Cylinda hardly twitched. Miceral sat against the wall, frustrated that he could do nothing but let things play out.

  The lack of action nearly lulled Miceral to sleep when a blue nimbus surrounded Cylinda’s hand. He jerked up but stopped himself before he rushed to her side. His time with Farrell taught him to respect a wizard’s space when they were working magic.

  “Miceral.” Cylinda’s voice sounded reedy and thin. “I need you, please.”

  Faster than he intended, he settled into a squat beside her. “Yes?”

  Anticipation warred with despair as he waited for her response. Cylinda’s expression hadn’t changed, so he didn’t expect good news. The small shake of her head confirmed his suspicion.

  “There’s no change, but I’m reasonably sure what’s happened.”

  The rush of hope Miceral felt at first withered under the expression on the wizard’s face. “What’s wrong?” Can you cure him?”

  Cylinda started taking short, staccato breaths, and Miceral noticed a slight glisten around the edges of her eyes. She swallowed and pinched her nose. “I think so. But I can’t even attempt it until I get to Dreth.”

  “What! That’s days away. He’ll—”

  “Farrell will die if I try it without the proper instructions.” She seemed to draw strength from the conviction of her words. “This was a piece of very high magic. I’ve read about this in a book in Kel’s library. With Yar-del captured, the only place I know for sure I’ll find a copy of that book is in Dreth.”

  “Fine, let’s open a Door there and get started.”

  “Miceral….” She exhaled, looking as if Honorus had dropped a mountain on her. “You have to stop. I can’t fight you and stay focused. I know it’s hard, but we can’t do this your way. There is only one way to do this, and that is to bring this ship and the dead pirate to Dreth. And before you ask, no, I can’t go to Dreth to get the book and come back. Even if I could open a Door to somewhere in the city, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

  “What’s complicated? Get the book, come back, and….” He stopped when she closed her eyes and a tear leaked out of one corner. “I’m sorry. I just… just can’t stand not being able to do something.”

  “I know. I feel equally frustrated, more than I can explain.” Cylinda sniffed and opened her eyes. “But I’m going to tell you now, you need to stay focused and stop fighting me. There is no guarantee I can get hold of the book, but if I’m to have any chance, I need you to stay calm.”

  “What do you mean?” He felt his tentative grip on his control slipping and took a moment to calm himself. “Why wouldn’t you be able to use the book?”

  “The only other copy of the book I know of is in the possession of the Order of Kel. A secretive organization that I’m not supposed to know exists, much less know where to find it.”

  Miceral felt as though he’d missed something, but he pushed aside his questions. “I take it you know where it is?”

  “Yes. Don’t ask me how I know. I can’t tell you.” She held up a hand before he could protest. “Understand, what we do is bigger than any of us, bigger than all of us. The Six move us about like pieces on Their board in Their war with Neldin. Each of us has a defined role and we are not permitted to step beyond those boundaries. In order to save Farrell, I’ll very likely need to defy the Six and do something I should not. Such disobedience comes with a price. If I tell you how and why, I’ll be putting your life at risk along with my own. That is something I won’t do.”

  “They would punish you for saving him?” He didn’t try to hide his disbelief.

  “Remember what I said about the bigger war.” Cylinda waited until he nodded before she continued. “The Six have plans thousands of years in the making. Move one piece out of order, or beyond its role, and the entirety of Their plans might be ruined. I’m afraid you will need to trust me, because I’m not going to drag you or anyone else along with me in defying the Six.”

  “I don’t understand why you need to defy Them. Don’t They want you to save Farrell? Isn’t he Their Champion?”

  “He is and They do, but it’s complicated. Regardless, my hope is that I can save him and avoid Their ire. If I fail….” She shrugged.

  Miceral tried to process her words. As their silence dragged on, he noticed red-clothed Arlefors moving about, collecting people and things.

  “What are they doing?”

  Cylinda twisted until she could observe the wizards. “Teberus is trying to protect us.”

  Miceral followed the activity. When one of the Arlefors closest to him bent down, his hand flew to his sword. “Stop!”

  “What….” Cylinda scanned the ship. “What’s wrong?”

  Miceral stepped closer to the wizard. “They’re disturbing the one who did this to Farrell. You said he has to stay here.”

  “Miceral, stop.” Cylinda moved closer until she barred Miceral’s path to the dead pirate. “Don’t interfere.”

  “Why not? You said—”

  “Stop!” Her shout bordered on hysterical. When he turned toward Cylinda, he could almost feel the fire in her eyes. “Are you going to fight me every league to Dumbarten?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Every time you do something like this, you make it that much harder to save Farrell.” Exhaustion gave her anger an extra edge. “The wizards are collecting bits of magic and scattering them on the waves.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s my point. You have no idea what we’re doing, yet you interfere at every turn.” She shook her head and made a quick movement with her hand. “Meglar is behind this attack. Sooner or later he’ll realize something happened and might come looking for us. Teberus and his wizards are shielding us as best they can, but it might not be enough. As an extra precaution, they’re taking snippets of the energy he gave the two dead pirates and spreading it over the ocean. That and the concealing spells will make it harder for Meglar to find us.”

  “Oh.”

  “Now, if you’re finished, let us do what we need to without further delay.”

  Her dismissal stung, but he knew he deserved it. When Miceral spotted Peter and Emerson off to the side, he took a last glance at Farrell and moved to join his friends.

  MICERAL CLUTCHED the railing so hard his knuckles nearly turned white. He managed to keep from falling down, but it proved a hollow victory as the spray soaked him when the Seafoam Rose landed hard in the choppy sea. Several hundred yards away, the lighter and smaller corsair they’d captured struggled to keep up with the heavier merchant vessel. If not for the Yar-del seamen and naval officers who had come through the Door from Haven, Miceral figured the ship would have floundered by now.

  For six days, Arritisa had blessed them with favorable conditions—he felt certain the Arlefors helped as well—but today the weather turned foul. With a fair wind, Nathan estimated they’d have made Dreth by midday. Tacking against a strong headwind as they had all day, they were pressing to make it by sunset. If not, they’d have to heave to and wait until morning.

  The roll of the ship forced him to twist. Behind him, he saw Teberus helping Cylinda to her feet. Checking to see he had the feel of the ship—or as best he could, given the conditions—he made his way to where the two wizards seemed engaged in conversation.

  “Can’t you do something to make this easier?” Miceral asked Cylinda. Turning toward Teberus, he noted the Arlefor’s brow was furrowed. He repeated the question mentally.

  “Even under the best
of circumstances, a wizard shouldn’t meddle with the weather. But with Meglar searching for us, it is a risk we can’t take.”

  “What about—” He stopped when he saw Cylinda frown. “Sorry. I’m doing it again.”

  “My people are doing all we can to speed your journey, but when the sea is this angry, there is little we can do to settle her.”

  “Thank you for all you’ve done.” Miceral hoped he sounded as grateful as he felt. “Without you, we’d be leagues farther from Dreth.”

  “We’ll make it today or I’ll fly him to Honorus’s temple myself.” Cylinda’s voice had an edge that mirrored the determination she’d displayed since she arrived.

  “Cylinda…. Thank you.” The ship rolled, forcing them to struggle to stay upright. “I’ve been difficult since you’ve arrived, and I’ve never properly—”

  “Land ho!”

  Sailors across the deck peered up toward the lookout.

  “How far?” Emerson shouted.

  “Less than an hour, sir.”

  When Miceral looked away, he found himself alone. Twisting, he finally spied Cylinda and Teberus moving toward the bow. The two exchanged a look just before the Arlefor deftly leapt over the rail.

  “What…?” Miceral’s question was asked of the air. Cylinda sped past him, heading toward the wheelhouse.

  Following as best he could, Miceral marveled at the wizard’s sea legs.

  “Captain!” She paused until Nathan spared a glance in her direction. “Teberus and his people are going to redouble their efforts. He asks that you try not to fight them.”

  “And just how do you suggest I carry out such a precise instruction?” He grunted as he and another sailor struggled to control the wheel. “That—”

  “Would be them trying to aid you.”

  He opened his mouth, but before he spoke, the wheel turned again. “Mr. Emerson!”

  The first mate looked soaked and haggard when he appeared near Cylinda. “Aye, Captain?”

  “Our friends from the sea are trying to help us. Do the best you can to not work at cross winds to them.”

  When Emerson cocked his head, the captain pointed to the wheel moving on its own in ways even Miceral knew shouldn’t happen. “Aye, sir. I’ll see what we can do, but….”