Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such painful memories.”

  Pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, Cylinda waved the other in his direction. “Please, ask your questions. You need to trust me if we are to save Farrell.”

  Trust her? How could he trust someone whose entire existence was a lie? When she removed her hand, Miceral saw tiny beads of water at the edges of her eyes. “It’s going to be hard to trust you, Cylinda. Nothing I know about you is true.”

  “You need to get past that, or else we won’t be able to save him.” The edge to her voice cut through her sorrow. “Right now he’s lost inside his own mind. I… once I might have been able to reach him, but right now, he’d never accept me as real. That leaves you.”

  “I… I have….” He sank back into the chair. “Me?”

  “Yes, Miceral, you. There is no one else.” She moved the chair closer and put Kel’s book on the table between them. “Right now Farrell’s trapped. He needs someone to find him and guide him out. If I’m right, the only person he’ll trust is you.”

  “Me?” He wasn’t a wizard. “How?”

  “Your amulet.” Cylinda reached under her tunic and pulled out a white pendant identical to Farrell’s. She stared at it as she turned the circle over and back. “Mine and Farrell’s were never attuned as they were meant to be, but Honorus left me this one link to my old life.”

  He gave her some time to work through her emotions before clearing his throat. When she looked up, he said, “Are his defenses down? Farrell said I could only use it to enter his mind if he let me or if I could overpower his control.”

  “No.” She gave the pendant a last look, then tucked it away. “Quite the opposite. Because of the spell, Farrell is at war in his mind. I don’t know what he’s fighting, but his defenses are at full alert.”

  “So how do I get through? I couldn’t break through in the best of times, but now? It will be like a baby attacking Master Baylec with his teething ring.”

  “That is why Nerti and Rothdin are coming. Theirs are among the most powerful minds on Nendor. They will help you.”

  “Which means one or both of them need to possess me.” He’d do it, of course. Somehow he’d find a way to put aside his fear. What choice did he have? If he couldn’t, Farrell would die.

  “It won’t be that bad, Miceral. So long as you welcome them into your mind, the process will go smoothly.”

  “I’ll…. It won’t be a problem. Klissmor did it on board the Rose. I can do it again.”

  “This won’t be that simple.” She paused and stared at him. It seemed as if she was looking for something. Finally, she blinked and then nodded. “Klissmor used your eyes to see. This will require more. If we’re right, Farrell will resist any attempt to enter his mind. Your link is the only way in that won’t shatter his consciousness and leave him worse than dead.”

  Miceral’s chest tightened. “What does that mean?”

  “Forcing your way into his mind would be like trying to enter Haven if the main gates were closed.”

  “So I could do permanent damage to him?”

  “It’s a possibility, but Nerti and Rothdin are like having the two finest healers ever to handle a complex injury. If you three can’t reach him without damaging his mind, Farrell will die anyway. The attempt has to be made.”

  He wanted to ask if there were another way, but he remembered how pale and unhealthy Farrell looked. They needed to free him now. “I agree.”

  “I knew you would, but there’s more. The moment you attempt to enter his mind, I expect he will lash out—with magic. That is what Father Gedrin alluded to. His wizards have seen how powerful Farrell is and are concerned.”

  He stared at her, not sure what to make of the comment. If Farrell attacked them magically, they had no defense. “What are you trying to tell me? That we’ll die?”

  “I hope not.” She tried to smile, but it did nothing to ease Miceral’s fears. “That is what I’m working on with Father Gedrin and his wizard-priests. We’re going to shield you.”

  “Father Gedrin is a wizard?”

  “No, but there are many strong wizards among Honorus’s clerics. He is gathering the most powerful to assist me.” Cylinda paused and stared at the wall over his shoulder. “I’m… confident we’ll be able to keep you safe.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “No, I’m very sure you won’t be harmed.”

  “I sense a ‘but,’ Ze—Cylinda. What are you afraid of?”

  “Farrell is powerful; more powerful than even he knows. As Champion of the Six, he has strengths he hasn’t tapped into. With his defenses down, anyone with wizard’s sight can see his full aura, and it’s blinding. Of course, talent is just one facet of what makes a wizard powerful. Training, practice, and skill are all important. The bad news is, Farrell is a genius when it comes to magic. Even Heminaltose couldn’t match his skill.”

  Miceral stared at his boots, breathing slowly. “Which means he might kill us all.”

  “Not everyone, no. The risk is to me first, then the wizard-priests. If… if he overpowers me, Nerti and Rothdin will do whatever they must to stop the attacks.”

  Miceral felt his skin tingle. “You mean destroy his mind?”

  “Yes.” Cylinda’s flat inflection told him much about her resolve.

  Miceral nodded, as much to reassure himself as to answer her. “What else can we do? If we don’t try, Farrell will die.”

  “I agree we have to try, but I wanted Erstad and Wesfazial to join me. Father Gedrin is worried, however, that if the three of us try and fail, there’d be no one left to guard Haven. He’s right, of course, but I’d still feel better with those two than an army of wizard-priests.”

  For Gedrin to prepare for their failure by keeping away her two most capable assistants only confirmed for him the validity of Cylinda’s risk assessment. He didn’t mind putting himself in danger, but the chance they might blast Farrell’s mind apart gave him pause.

  “It’s really that dangerous… to Farrell, I mean?”

  “Nerti and Rothdin will do everything they can to help you reach him before they need to harm him. As I said, there couldn’t be two better choices to make the attempt.” She moved closer and put a hand on his upper arm. “They’ll go over what you need to know from their end. Once they feel you’re ready, we’ll begin.”

  “How long will this take?”

  “I can’t say. Time has no meaning inside your mind. Think of it like a dream. When you wake up, you don’t know how long you’ve been asleep. So it might take minutes, or hours, or more. My hope is that once you get inside his mind, that will end the magical attack on our bodies. If not, he might kill himself trying to cast spells he doesn’t have the energy to fuel.”

  “Which means I need to work fast.”

  “Yes.”

  Another risk Miceral didn’t know about. “Are we even sure this will work—I mean, if everything goes right? It seems there are more chances Farrell will die than recover.”

  The hand on his arm tightened for the barest instant. “It’s our only option.”

  THE ROOM where Farrell rested seemed so much smaller when Miceral returned. Dozens of priests stood around the high priest, all looking as grim as Miceral felt. Even the arrival of Rothdin and Nerti didn’t lighten his mood.

  To save Farrell, Miceral would gladly forfeit his own life. But his death would only ensure Farrell’s as well. That thought kept him focused on what he needed to do.

  Rothdin had been terse and to the point when he instructed Miceral on how they would proceed. If anyone doubted the depth of his feeling for his adopted son, the way his feathers stood out answered the question.

  By contrast, Nerti showed no outward signs, but she snapped at a priest who asked a simple question. The man’s query had been appropriate given the circumstances, but Nerti berated him as a simpleton and insinuated they might need someone with more intelligence given the stakes. Father Gedrin smoo
thed things over, but even his voice showed signs of strain.

  Miceral scanned the room and found Cylinda gently stroking Farrell’s hair. She looked up as he approached but didn’t stop.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for ten years.” She used her free hand to wipe a tear from her eye. “But this wasn’t how I envisioned our… it.”

  “I’m sorry for being angry with you earlier. I’m sure this hasn’t been easy for you.”

  She pushed aside a stray lock of brown hair and bent down to kiss Farrell’s forehead. When Cylinda looked up, Miceral saw more tears welling in her eyes. “You have a right to be angry, if not at me, at the unfairness of things. I saw him become the man and wizard he was meant to be, to fall in love and be loved in return. I was there to see him joined with his life partner and to see the joy and happiness I’ve always wanted for him. What mother could ask for more?”

  She sniffed and used the edge of her sleeve to dry her eyes. “Farrell, however, got none of that. He’s had to do all these things and more without knowing his mother was there, that she watched him, and that she couldn’t have been prouder of him.”

  “He never stopped loving…” He tried to say you but found he couldn’t speak the word. When he scanned the room, he noticed some of the priests staring in their direction. “…his mother. When he wakes up, he’ll tell you that himself.”

  Cylinda swallowed loudly, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “No, he won’t. When he wakes up, neither you nor Father Gedrin will be able to tell him the truth.”

  “You can’t….”

  “It’s not my decision, Miceral.” Cylinda’s eyebrows bristled, and he could hear the frustration in her voice. She noticed the others and continued in a whisper. “Honorus’s avatar paid me a visit last night. It’s not time.”

  “Surely He knows how much it would help Farrell to know the truth.”

  “Honorus knows far more than either of us. Being here today—for him—that came with a price.” Her smile looked forced and held no joy. “In my mind, it was—is—worth it.”

  From the slight quiver in her voice, Miceral doubted she believed the words. Cylinda stared at her son, the muscles in her face twitching. She appeared small and fragile, nothing like the wizard who’d dispatched her enemy with cold efficiency at Belsport.

  Without realizing it at first, Miceral put an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. He expected her to pull away, but she twisted slightly and buried her head against his tunic. Despite her attempts to maintain control, Miceral felt her tremble.

  “Though it might not mean much, I’ll do everything I can to bring him back.” He didn’t know how he would do it yet, but he’d find a way.

  Her head moved up and down but she didn’t answer. After what felt like minutes, she brought her hand up to her face. She drew a deep breath and pulled back. “I know you will. Everyone knows how much you love him.”

  Before Miceral could answer, someone cleared his throat next to him. The young priest stared at them, wide-eyed, and twisted the end of one of his sleeves. “Excuse me, Lord Miceral, but the Holy Father said it’s time to begin.”

  “Very well, tell him we’ll be over when we’re ready.”

  The man’s brow furrowed, and he opened and shut his mouth twice.

  “Tell the Holy Father, we—Master Cylinda and I—need a bit more time, and we’ll attend to him as soon as we’re ready.” Miceral stared at the young priest until he nodded.

  “Yes, m’lord.” He took a step back and gave Miceral a polite but hardly deferential bow. Without waiting for an acknowledgment, the priest turned and walked away. After the man disappeared behind some other priests, Cylinda began to laugh.

  “You realize you’ve totally upended that boy’s entire existence.”

  Miceral glanced in the man’s direction and shrugged. “He’ll recover. In my experience, priests and priestesses often forget that just because they serve the gods doesn’t mean they’re entitled to the same reverence as the Six.”

  She wiped her face a second time. “As protectors of unicorns and peregrines, your people’s perspective on the Six is rather unique. You can’t apply them to humans.”

  “Last I checked, there wasn’t a set of rules for humans and another for everyone else.” Miceral tried to inject a touch of humor into his tone, but it still sounded like a lecture.

  “Well said.” For a moment it seemed she wanted to say more. Without speaking she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Miceral asked. “I mean, maybe we should get Erstad to come help.”

  Instead of the rebuke Miceral expected, Cylinda chuckled. “I appreciate the concern and know it’s not entirely for my wellbeing, but I’m ready to do my part.”

  Miceral felt his cheeks burn. “I meant no disrespect. You mentioned earlier that Farrell might overpower you, so I….”

  “One must always prepare for the worst, but I’m confident I can do what’s needed. Remember, I survived both encounters with… him.”

  “Once only with divine intervention.”

  She shook her head. “Not entirely true.” Checking their surroundings, she motioned for them to move away from the others. “At Yar-del we fought him to a standstill for hours. We’d hope to be able to defeat him, but when that proved futile, we attempted our final gambit. The point is, however, we were able to stand up to his focused attack for well more time than you should need. And that was from a very determined opponent targeting his attack directly at me. Farrell may lash out, but it will be wild and unfocused. Unless he attempts a suicide attack, I believe my defenses will hold.”

  Miceral nodded once. Voicing his concerns had been foolish. One did not question someone’s ability before a fight.

  “He is, however—” Cylinda paused until Miceral looked at her again. “—a greater danger to himself than others right now. We walk a fine line supporting him. Give him too much energy and we risk what he’ll do with it in a blind rage. Too little and he’ll die before you can reach him.”

  “I understand.” Miceral felt her gray eyes search for signs he spoke truthfully. “I need to move quickly.”

  “Very well.” She swallowed hard, but her body seemed to relax just a bit. “We should tell the others we’re ready.”

  AS MICERAL settled onto the mat a young cleric had provided, he watched the nervous wizard-priests cluster around four ancient-looking priests. He’d heard enough to know their concerns about Farrell’s aura. Father Gedrin’s soothing words did little to ease their anxiety.

  Ignoring the commotion around her, Cylinda carefully placed four identical smooth black stone cubes in a row that separated Farrell from the rest of the room. When she appeared satisfied with their placement, she went back to the first block and tapped it with her staff. The room turned eerily quiet as she repeated the act with the other three.

  Cylinda gave the row of cubes a last critical glance and then took her seat on a pallet to Miceral’s left. Using her free hand, she smoothed her robe and laid her staff across her lap.

  “I’m ready, Holy Father.” Cylinda’s voice sounded harsh in the tense silence.

  Father Gedrin put his right hand over his heart and extended the left. “May Honorus bless you all and grant you the strength to save the Chosen.”

  Without waiting for a response, he motioned toward the door, and the nonwizards quickly filed out. Last to leave, the high prelate looked at Miceral and nodded before he turned and joined the others. The click of the lock signaled the start—of what, remained to be determined.

  “We are ready, Miceral.” Nerti’s voice lacked its normal authoritative tone. Instead it felt soothing, almost motherly. “I have no doubt you will be successful.”

  He turned to his right, and the unicorn queen winked at him. A smile forced itself onto Miceral’s lips, and he nodded his thanks.

  “We both believe in you.” Rothdin’s steady, commanding tone seemed to complement rather than contrast his frie
nd’s. “With the blessing of Honorus, we shall save your mate and my son.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Miceral readied himself. The process itself was simple enough—focus his thoughts through the amulet and reach out to Farrell’s mind as if to speak to him silently. He’d done that hundreds of times. Once there, Rothdin promised to guide Miceral as they tried to rescue Farrell.

  Despite how easy it sounded, Miceral remained concerned he’d fail. A host of regrets threatened to overwhelm him as he remembered all the times Farrell had offered to teach him how to better use the amulet. Even one lesson would have made him more confident today.

  Nothing useful ever came of these self-destructive thoughts, he reminded himself. The past would never change, so he needed to focus on the present and the future.

  He stared at the white amulet, looking at the details of the carved eagle he’d seen hundreds of times. Each individual feather seemed to move as the light danced across the intricate details. The eyelids appeared to open and shut depending on the angle, and the beak seemed to move as he twisted it back and forth.

  “It is a sign Honorus is here to guide us.” The certainty in Rothdin’s voice helped strengthen Miceral’s confidence.

  It wasn’t until he nodded that Miceral realized the peregrine had read his thoughts. The initial burst of angst dissipated when he couldn’t feel Rothdin in his mind. “I really don’t even know you’re here.”

  “It would be a blow to my ego if you could.” For a moment Rothdin’s feathers softened. “Let’s go. He awaits our rescue.”

  Staring at the white eagle again, Miceral concentrated on calling Farrell. Without saying a word, he felt the familiar touch of his partner’s mind. Unlike the calm, reassuring feeling he usually experienced, this time a wave of chaotic, fearful emotions struck him the moment he made contact.

  Resisting the urge to back away, Miceral pressed forward. A wall of swirling black enveloped him, robbing him of more than just light. The ground—or whatever he stood upon—seemed to evaporate, leaving him feeling stuck between falling and floating. The quiet he normally experienced upon entering Farrell’s mind turned to complete silence as even the sound of his breathing disappeared.