Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Delightfully distrustful. I can see you understand the nature of your opponent.”

  Farrell ignored the comment to focus on his task. When he completed the narrow walkway, he returned his staff to his back. “If you need me to free more space, please let me know. Hopefully this will prove sufficient.”

  Kel inclined his head slightly, causing Farrell to freeze. The angle of his face, the color of his hair and eyes, the way he smiled, how he held his head when he gave Farrell a quizzical look, all reminded the younger man of his deceased grandfather. Even the style of clothing Kel chose mirrored what Bren had worn when he ruled Yar-del.

  “You appear uncertain. Is there a question?”

  Even though the image wasn’t Kel, Farrell didn’t want to admit to his moment of weakness. “I… um… I don’t know what to do next.”

  “Well, that would depend. I will point you where you need to go. The rest is up to you…. How should I address you?”

  The question took him by surprise. It had been thrown in at the end in such an offhand way, he wondered if Kel was testing him. “My mother named me Halloran, but for my safety I have been called Farrell since I was two years old.”

  “Fascinating. If I were really me, I’d want to know the circumstances behind that answer.”

  “If you were really you, I’ve no doubt you’d already know them.”

  “Well met, my young friend, but you still haven’t told me how I should address you.” Kel’s image seemed so amused by the exchange, Farrell almost forgot he wasn’t real.

  “Farrell will be fine. Almost no one calls me Halloran, not even my life partner.” As Kel walked out of his spot, Farrell asked, “How should I address you? Your Majesty? Grand Master Kel? Ancestor? Great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather?”

  Kel turned so he stood inches from Farrell. “You may have left out a few ‘greats.’ Kel will do fine. Titles were one irritant I happily left behind when I abdicated the throne. Or, if you prefer, grandfather is acceptable. Just leave out all the ‘greats,’ if you don’t mind.”

  “You remind me of my grandfather, King Bren.” Farrell smiled at the image of Yar-del’s last king. He hadn’t known his grandfather well, but his mother told him what a kind, loving man he’d been. “I barely knew him, but from all I’ve been told, he was a good, honorable man. Since you don’t mind, I will call you grandfather.”

  After he said the words, he felt foolish. It wasn’t Kel standing in front of him. Why did it matter how he addressed the image? If—when—he met the real Kel, he’d have to ask him how he wanted to be addressed.

  “Grandfather it is.” Kel motioned toward the wall. “Shall we?”

  Farrell stared hard at the blank stone. Other than a faint residue of power, he detected nothing. He almost dismissed what he saw as the remains of the energy used to create the room. “Or not,” he whispered.

  Ignoring Kel, he examined the spot closer. Pushing out with his senses, he touched an innocuous stone-forming spell, the kind of magic he’d expect to find in a room carved from the bowels of a mountain. When it flared to life, he gasped.

  “Lord of the sky.” He smiled and turned toward Kel. “I’ve hidden spells before, but none so powerful as that.”

  “Hopefully you are better at it than I. You were not supposed to be able to find it without my aid.” Kel’s eyes danced and his lips curled upward. “Tell me what you see.”

  “A matrix of sorts. Layer upon layer of spell lines, overlapping and supporting each other. It’s incredible. You’ve woven the spells in such a way that they naturally hide themselves by confusing any eye that chances upon them. I didn’t think that possible without a concealment spell.”

  Farrell’s mind sped back the thousands of miles to Gharaha. If he could find a way to use this technique, he could finish the weapon without the need to cover everything with his tedious and time-consuming masking spell.

  “What else do you see?” Kel’s voice snapped him from his daydream.

  “Beyond that magic is a shield of great strength, powered from a small object below the floor.” He paused and turned toward Kel. “There is a small room protected by the spell. There may be objects in the room. I can’t tell. To be certain, I’d need to negate the spells between us.”

  Kel raised a bushy graying eyebrow. “Can you?”

  Farrell squinted as he scrutinized his ancestor’s handiwork to be certain he didn’t miss anything. “Yes, I believe I can.”

  He stood quietly as Kel stared at him. “Did you want me to”—he pointed toward the wall—“you know. Do it?”

  Kel nodded. “Please. After all, I’m not really here, so I can’t do it myself.”

  Farrell suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. If he knew anything, he knew Kel—or the image of Kel, in this case—controlled everything in the room. Ignoring the presence a foot away, he touched the spell with his mind and traced it backward to its point of origin. He whispered a few words, and Kel’s handiwork disappeared without any fanfare. When he turned to see what he should do next, he found Kel staring at him with a queer expression.

  “Something wrong, Grandfather?”

  “Wrong? No, nothing is wrong.” Kel seemed deep in thought. His eyebrows flared and he focused on Farrell. “That was unexpected. I’ve never seen it done quite like that before.”

  “Oh.” Erstad and Wesfazial often commented on how he did things differently. “It’s an easy enough thing to turn it off.”

  “If you say so. Still, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Disappointing Kel—even his image—stung.

  Kel smiled and waved a hand. “Of course you didn’t, my dear grandson. Quite the opposite. I meant this to see if you could finesse your way past the shields, much as I designed this room to test your ability to adapt quickly to unexpected attacks. I did not anticipate you could just turn off my spell. Your actions are astounding and fascinating.”

  Farrell felt the heat increase in his cheeks. Heminaltose had never praised his novel ways of dealing with problems. The mischievous expression returned to Kel’s face. “Care to see what I’ve hidden in that room?”

  Feeling like a child at winter festival about to enter the pie maker’s shop, Farrell nodded eagerly. Kel placed a shimmering hand on the wall directly in front of him. The wall flickered for a moment but didn’t change appearance. Kel’s hand passed through.

  “After you, grandson.” He moved to the side.

  Farrell stepped forward and hesitated. It could have been another test, but Kel’s expression and words said otherwise. Trusting his instincts, he walked toward the wall. His foot met no resistance, but he kept his eyes closed as he crossed the barrier. When he opened his eyes, Kel stood beside him.

  The wall shimmered again. Curious, Farrell reached back and touched the solid rock.

  “You’re the key.” He understood what Kel had done, but he still couldn’t comprehend the scope of the magic needed to construct and protect these rooms.

  “I am. Anyone who tries to blast their way into this chamber would cause the contents to shift somewhere else in the complex.”

  The small room—fifteen feet wide by ten feet long—was little more than barren rock. A sconce with a globe of pale blue wizard’s fire hung on each wall, and a small stone trunk sat to his left.

  “Did you bring the book I left for you in Northhelm?”

  Farrell nodded and withdrew the tome from his endless pocket. “I did.”

  “Of course you did.” Kel pointed to the left. “Place it on the trunk, please. Make sure all the book is on the stone top.”

  His boots echoed in the empty room. Carefully he did as instructed and stepped back. The book jumped slightly, then flew open almost to the end. When the pages settled, it opened to a blank sheet. Kel touched the page with his right finger, and the parchment turned black. Light from the globe overhead revealed the book acted as a portal into the chamber below. Craning his neck so as to not block the
light, Farrell saw two objects at the bottom of the space.

  “The opening is real. You may reach inside and remove what you find.”

  Tentatively, Farrell put his hand through the page. His fingers touched a short, smooth, circular object. Grasping the tube, he turned it slightly to bring it through the opening.

  The four-foot long silver cylinder had a cap on one end. He placed it to the right of the book and reached for the second item. It felt like a box in well-oiled leather. He ran his fingers along the edges and worried the box might be bigger than the open page. He pulled it toward the opening, hoping it would fit.

  As he estimated, the box was too large for the page, but the book expanded like one of his endless pockets until Farrell could easily remove the small chest. Stitched on three sides, the item measured about three feet in length, two feet wide, and twelve inches thick.

  Farrell set the box next to the cylinder. He noticed Kel staring at him expectantly. Replaying Kel’s instructions, he ordered the globe over his head into the trunk. In the dark back corner, he observed a small leather pouch, which he quickly retrieved.

  Before he could set the bag next to the other two items, the page turned back to its original blank state. Kel nodded at him when he stole a glance at his guide. “Well done.”

  Farrell decided to examine the pouch first, and under the watchful eye of his grandfather, he untied the drawstring. A large blue gemstone the size of his fist tumbled into his hand when he upended the leather bag. When he held up the gem, it sparkled in the wizard’s fire.

  “It’s….” Farrell almost didn’t want to dare believe what he saw. It couldn’t be that, could it? “It’s….”

  “The Eye of Honorus.”

  Farrell’s eyes went wide. “The… the… Eye of Honorus?”

  “Don’t look so surprised, grandson. Did you think I’d go to all this effort to hide a few trinkets and baubles?”

  He’d expected something valuable, but the Eye? “No, but a Gift of the Gods? This is beyond my dreams.”

  “I’d suggest you keep your superlatives to a minimum for the moment.” Kel gestured to the other items. “You’ve not opened the cylinder.”

  With shaking hands, Farrell placed the Eye back in the pouch and reached for the silver tube. The top unscrewed easily, and Farrell peered into the cylinder. Nestled in a cushion of purple velvet rested a three-foot-long silver staff, topped with a round crystal. Farrell suspected he knew which Gift he held. As he drew the contents slowly from its container, he glanced up at Kel.

  “The Arm of Khron.” Kel put his ethereal hand on top of the chest. “Inside this box are two books, which have no fancy names, nor have they been touched by the divine. They are merely books I wrote for you, my heir. One explains the Eye and the Arm, the other gives you information I thought you might find useful. Call it hubris to place my own words beside gifts from Honorus and Khron, but hiding them inside this room and in that trunk kept them away from prying eyes.”

  Farrell snorted as he slid the Arm back into its case. “Among any other company, two previously unknown books penned by the legendary Kel would be a treasure beyond their weight in gold. To call them ‘merely books’ you wrote is like saying Dumbarten is merely an island off the coast of Lourdria.”

  “The containers are made to conceal the objects from even the most determined probes.” Kel’s demeanor changed, as if he were repeated a rehearsed speech. “Keep them wrapped when you’re not using them. One of the books deals with the Gifts, but it is by no means complete. I’ve scoured the world looking for information on how to use the Gifts, but there is a paucity of details available. My book on the Arm and the Eye contains everything I could find about either of them. The other tome is focused on magic I think you’ll find useful.”

  Kel went silent, his eyes unfocused. He stood so still he didn’t even appear to be breathing.

  “Am I being dismissed?” Farrell wondered if he’d get an answer. Sparks twinkled at the edges of Kel’s eyes, and he seemed to resume the demeanor he’d displayed when Farrell first encountered him.

  “In a word, yes.” Kel seemed a bit put off. “It takes a lot of energy to sustain this spell. You have what I meant for you to receive, so I’ll return from whence I came.”

  “Does that mean when I go, you’ll be gone for good?”

  “I truly don’t know what will happen when you leave. I created me to greet you and provide you with assistance in finding these items. Given the effort it took to do this much, more seemed imprudent.”

  Kel turned back toward the main room. He put his arm around Farrell’s shoulder and although it didn’t feel like a real arm or hand, Farrell felt something.

  “In theory you should be able to summon me anytime you return to this room. However, that is just speculation. I’ve never used this spell before.” Kel paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I used it several times, but this is the first time it’s been activated.”

  Farrell stopped walking. “You’ve used this spell other times? Several other times? I’ve never heard of….”

  “And that is how it should be. This is the one you were supposed to come to first.”

  “There are other rooms like this?”

  “Not exactly like this, but yes, I created other places for you to find. And don’t be surprised if those other ‘me’s’ are aware of what transpired here today.”

  Farrell almost shouted. He’d been right all the time. Kel was still alive. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Kel’s voice stopped his words.

  “I wove into each ‘me’ a spell that allows us to share information. That way I didn’t need to go to each site to update each ‘me’ any time something important changed.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh? You sound disappointed. And here I was particularly proud of that part of the spell.” Kel chuckled. “Do you know how difficult it is to create an open conduit into a spell so you can access it remotely at some later time from a spell you’ve not even created?”

  Farrell shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. To be honest, I can’t imagine half of what you came up with to create this sanctuary.”

  “So what caused your disappointment?”

  “I thought you were… I mean… that….” He let out a sigh. Not only did he feel foolish for what he thought, but all Kel had done to create this—and the other hidden caches—made him feel overmatched. “I thought you were still alive.”

  “Ah. My apologies, but I can’t answer that.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t.” Kel stopped walking. “I only know what I knew when I created the spell. Certainly I was alive the last time I created or updated one of me, but that’s obvious. Nor can I say how long ago I did that, because time has no meaning to a magical image. I wish I could be more helpful.”

  Still disappointed, Farrell tried to put on a happy face as Kel started to walk again. “If you’d been any more helpful, you’d go fight Meglar for me. This has been more than I’d ever imagined. So lest I appear ungrateful, thank you, Grandfather.”

  They crossed back through the wall, and it solidified again after Kel passed through. He stopped walking a step from the marble flagstone. “It is time for me to go.” Kel inclined his head. “It was good to meet you, grandson.”

  Farrell returned the smile and bowed deeply. “Grandsire, it was my honor to have met you, even this you. I will see you again soon.”

  Kel cocked his head slightly. “Perhaps. One can never know for certain.” He stepped into the opening and winked out of existence.

  With only the cold granite for company, Farrell said, “I’m certain.”

  FARRELL REALIZED he stood on a stretch of floor not covered by his counterspell and braced himself for an assault. As Kel promised, however, the spell did not activate. Farrell decided against checking on the spell more closely so he wouldn’t trigger it accidentally.

  He cautiously walked toward the door
leading into the council room. Taking a deep breath, he tapped his staff several times onto the stone floor and watched as his spell evaporated into nothingness. If anyone else entered the room, the full force of Kel’s defensive spells would converge on the intruder—as Kel intended.

  The members of the order went silent the moment Farrell opened the door. He became the focus of everyone’s attention, making him feel a bit uneasy. To keep himself calm, Farrell locked his gaze on Miceral. The smile on his partner’s face made Farrell’s pulse quicken despite the setting. It had been too long since he’d been able to fall asleep wrapped in Miceral’s arms.

  “You look intact.” Miceral’s smile grew until it threatened to split his face in two.

  “For the most part.” He ignored the rest of the room and moved closer so he could hug Miceral. “It was… beyond anything I expected, in a very good way.”

  “Wonderful. Is our quest over?”

  “No, I’m afraid this is just the beginning.” Farrell reluctantly broke the embrace. “Let me explain to the Order what happened. I’m sure they’re going to tear me to bits if I don’t tell them something soon.”

  Everyone still looked at him, so he flashed them a smirk. “Anxious to hear what happened?”

  The room burst into chatter as people began to pepper him with questions from all sides. Unable to answer everyone at once, he held up his hand. “King Markus, perhaps you had best ask first.”

  “Thank you, cousin.” Markus motioned for the others to take their seats. “Start from the beginning. What happened when the door shut?”

  Farrell did his best to answer without making mention of the Gifts. He tried to deflect the group from asking more questions by saying he wouldn’t know for sure until he had a chance to read the two books. Nerti interrupted him after his third attempt to avoid giving more specific details. She’d barely said three words when his adoptive father spoke into his mind.

  “Nerti is going to ask a very long question so you and I may speak. You are withholding information about what happened.” Rothdin’s statement told Farrell he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, lie to his father.