Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2 Page 14

  Miceral jerked to a halt. “That’s barbaric!”

  Farrell stifled a grimace at the abrupt stop. “Indeed. It’s why we rarely turn and fight when we can avoid it. The fewer people he captures alive, the better.”

  Silently, they passed through little-used areas. Farrell used the silence to push aside thoughts of his father’s madness.

  “Are we headed for the stables?” Miceral’s voice echoed in the long, unbroken corridor.

  “No, those were off the last corridor we passed. We’re going to see Nerti and Klissmor. Lenore’s clerics tended them, but we should’ve checked on them sooner.”

  “I’m sure they’ll understand, given your condition.”

  “Perhaps, but I would like to visit nevertheless.” The tunnel began to slope up and ended in front of a large, plain stone door. Farrell tapped his staff on the stone, and cool evening air greeted them as the door swung open.

  Farrell reached out to let Nerti know they had arrived, but she didn’t answer. “Odd. She knew we were coming.”

  Before Miceral could answer, Nerti and Klissmor cleared an outcrop of rocks and trotted toward them. Klissmor, an angry glint in his eyes, never turned his gaze from Miceral. The unicorn pressed forward until he had backed his rider against the wall.

  Watching Klissmor’s behavior, Farrell failed to notice that Nerti stood inches away from him. She stared at his shoulder but didn’t say a word, not even a greeting. Suddenly, she lunged forward and impaled him in his injured shoulder.

  MICERAL CRIED out, but Farrell barely heard it. Stunned, he stared wide-eyed at the horn embedded in his body.

  Nerti moved back, removing her horn. Farrell found no blood, no wound, not even a hole in his shirt. And no pain. Before he could speak, Nerti stepped closer to Klissmor, keeping Miceral cornered.

  From the look on his face, Miceral appeared to be on the receiving end of a lecture from one or both of the unicorns. When Farrell moved toward the trio, Nerti turned her head quickly.

  “Do not interfere!” The force of her voice caused him to flinch.

  Miceral’s chin sagged, almost touching his chest. “I agree. I promise to be more careful.”

  With that, the two backed away. Nerti narrowed her piercing green eyes on him. “How does it feel now, Wizard?” A wink accompanied the last word.

  He rotated his arm, testing the range of motion. “Better, Unicorn. You could have warned me.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Had you flinched, I could have missed the spot I needed.”

  “I’m to blame, not Miceral.” He included Klissmor in his thoughts. “I should have stopped when I got tired. Instead, like a fool, I tried to prove my worth.”

  “Defending your mate is admirable, but Miceral knew better.” Nerti locked eyes with him. “You are too important to Lenore and Honorus for him to have put you so at risk. He should have verified your skills before he put them to the test. He failed to act wisely. We told him to do better in the future. There is nothing left to discuss.”

  Farrell recognized the tone and knew better than to challenge her. “Can we go for a ride?”

  “I would welcome a run, but there are no good paths for miles.” She looked to the west. “There are too many trees on this side of the mountains.”

  “I thought I’d open a Door to Gharaha.” He thought Nerti smiled at him—or what passed for a unicorn smile.

  Klissmor moved closer to Miceral. “We waste time standing here.”

  In the waning light of the summer sun, the four emerged onto the grassy plains. Without warning, the unicorns took off as only their kind could. Back home, with the wind rushing through his hair, Farrell laughed. He leaned forward, urging Nerti to run faster. Peering back, he saw Klissmor galloping with a determined glint in his eye. Miceral mimicked Farrell’s position, and his blond hair shimmered when it caught a shaft of moonlight from the newly risen moon.

  For all his effort, Klissmor never caught Nerti. They reached the northern edge and had careened back when a powerful flare lit the dark sky from a spot above the gates. Farrell recognized the aura instantly. What did Wesfazial want?

  “We’re being summoned back,” he told Nerti, not trying to hide his disappointment.

  Nerti raced Klissmor to the front gate, and the pair arrived side by side. Farrell and Miceral quickly dismounted, and Farrell moved to one of the permanent Doors on this side. Careful to avoid the horn, he put his head to Nerti’s forehead and kissed her between the eyes, a thanks for the ride.

  Smiling broadly, he waved to close the Door and took Miceral’s hand. Before they reached the gate, his smile drained.

  “Honorus’s butt cheeks!” His curse earned him a stifled laugh from Miceral. “That man is always scowling at me. What is it now?”

  When they arrived, Wesfazial, his face pinched and tight, “greeted” them.

  “What in the Eight Gates of Neblor do you think you were doing?” He barely contained his anger. “You’re supposed to be resting, not off romping around at night on a unicorn’s back. And what demon possessed you to open Doors? You’re not supposed to be using magic. At all!” He paused for a breath, then turned his glare on Miceral. “And you. Not content to wound him, now you’re trying to kill him by not letting him rest?”

  Farrell put fingers to lips and whistled loudly. When his mentor stared at him, he shook his head slowly. “Sometimes it’s better to ask questions before launching into a lecture.”

  Wesfazial’s eyes narrowed, but he kept silent.

  “Nerti healed me with her horn.” Raising both eyebrows, he waited a moment before adding, “I assume that’s all you wanted.”

  “Um, no, there’s nothing else.” The older wizard shook his head as Farrell led Miceral inside. “Sorry, but I was apoplectic when I saw you four galloping about like that. Forgot about those unicorn horns.”

  Laughing at the contrition, Farrell turned abruptly and put his hand on Wesfazial’s shoulder. “Sooner or later you’ll have to let go and realize I’m not the juvenile you met when you arrived.”

  “It will take a long time for me to forget those days. I’m glad you’re all right, but be careful around this big oaf. He only looks slow.” Wesfazial gripped Miceral’s shoulder in his meaty hand before walking away.

  Farrell took a small detour by the kitchen. The old woman on duty eyed Miceral a few times before she disappeared to get their food. Despite being healed, Farrell still felt drained. He barely kept his eyes open while they ate, and Miceral sent him to bed as soon as they reached their rooms.

  He woke briefly when Miceral crawled in bed next to him. A strong arm enveloping him sent him back into a peaceful sleep.

  “KEEP YOUR guard up!” Miceral stepped back, signaling a pause in their training. “How many more welts must I give you before you remember to focus on both defending and attacking?”

  “You’re trying….” Farrell stopped when he saw Miceral’s smirk.

  “Of course not.” He threw Farrell a towel. “But it’s almost impossible to stop a blow when you fail to protect properly.”

  “I really am trying.” They’d only been training together two months, but he thought he’d made good progress.

  “You’re doing amazingly well.” Miceral nodded encouragingly. “But there’s always room to improve.”

  Farrell finished wiping the sweat from his face. “Room? There’s a whole mountain of improvement for me to make.”

  Three sharp raps filled the air, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere.

  “Front door.” He flipped the towel over his shoulder and moved to the exit.

  “What’s that?” Miceral asked, soundly slightly annoyed.

  “Sorry, it’s the front door.” Farrell held up his hand before Miceral could answer. Waving his fingers in front of his mouth, he said, “Be there in a moment.”

  Another flick of his hand, and he smiled. “The door has a spell to let us know someone’s knocking. Otherwise people might knock for a while before we h
eard them.”

  “Oh.” Miceral seemed happy with the answer. “Who is it?”

  “No idea.” Laughing, Farrell stepped off to meet their guest.

  He wiped his face again as he opened the door. Erstad backed up when it opened.

  “Erstad,” he said cheerfully. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We weren’t expecting you.”

  The older wizard eyed him carefully, the beginning of a smirk on his lips. Feeling his face get red, Farrell rolled his eyes. “No, you didn’t interrupt us doing that.”

  Snorting, Erstad stepped inside when Farrell moved back. “So what are you doing that you’re half-naked and sweating?”

  The way Erstad asked only made him blush deeper. Turning, he motioned for his mentor to follow.

  “Great Honorus, Farrell!” Erstad put a hand on Farrell’s shoulder, causing him to stop. “What happened to you?”

  Farrell turned, unsure what his mentor meant. They locked eyes, and Erstad motioned to Farrell’s back.

  “Where did you get all those welts?”

  “Oh, that.” Relieved, he waved his hand absently. “Miceral and I are practicing. Evidently I’m not keeping my guard up enough.

  “Farrell!” He stopped again. “I thought we agreed weapons practice would occur at the training field. And by the Six! Where’s the leather vest I magically enhanced?”

  Farrell tried but couldn’t keep from laughing. “Erstad, do you really think we’re holding weapons practice in our rooms? Without protective gear?” Shaking his head, he waved for his teacher to follow. “Miceral has been teaching me hand-to-hand fighting for a few weeks now. You can watch the end of our session. We don’t have much left.”

  Miceral sat on his haunches, waiting. “Good morning, Master Erstad. A fine day to be up and about.”

  “Before you two return to beating each other,” Erstad said, “it seems to an old fool like me that this isn’t a fair fight. Miceral is certainly much stronger than you, and even blocking him has got to be impossible for someone who isn’t a Muchari.”

  “That’s true, and the first time we sparred, I got tossed against the wall. After that, I’ve enhanced my strength to match his. Can’t do much about how quick he is, but that’s easier for him to control than his strength. This way, if I execute the moves properly, I can withstand his blows.” Farrell’s lips curled into a grimace. “When I don’t, I end up with a bruise.”

  He engaged his spell, feeling the magic hug him like a second skin. He faced Miceral and bowed slightly. Flexing his knees and twisting to the side, he raised his arms. Miceral assumed a similar position, leaning forward on his toes.

  When Miceral launched himself, Erstad gasped. Ignoring the sound, Farrell parried the attack and countered. Miceral easily swatted aside the blow and circled his partner, looking for an opening.

  Focused on both keeping his guard up and attacking, he never got close to scoring a hit. Twice Miceral snuck past his defenses. A big improvement, but still not good enough. After the second time, Miceral stopped and showed him how to angle his arm. After he demonstrated the proper form, they resumed training.

  One particular move proved elusive. After the third time he failed to stop Miceral’s attack, Farrell found himself on the mat. Frustrated, he popped up, trying to find the right position.

  “That’s enough for today,” Miceral said, stepping back.

  “But I haven’t figured out that last move, Ral. One more time.” Farrell stared at the position of his feet without looking up.

  “Sorry, but we agreed I get to call an end to the session if I think you’re too tired.” Miceral held out a clean towel. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  Less than happy, Farrell tried to conceal his disappointment. “I suppose we ought not to act as if Master Erstad isn’t here, either. He surely didn’t come to watch our morning workout.” His hint for Erstad to state his purpose failed when the old wizard said nothing. Instead, he stood up, shaking his head but smiling.

  After Farrell dried off, Erstad came closer, thankfully without the scowl. “I’m impressed, lad. You’re quite good. I was prepared to be angry with you both, but I can’t. Though I’d be happier if you could train without getting thumped so much.”

  Ignoring the last part, Farrell leaned in to kiss Miceral’s cheek. “I have an excellent teacher, despite the bruises.”

  Erstad chuckled. “Judging by the number of welts, you’ve gotten thumped more than a few times.”

  Farrell nodded as he got himself some water.

  “Actually, I’m quite proud of him,” Miceral said. “I’ve been doing this about a hundred years longer than him. We only started practicing two months ago. He’s doing great.”

  Farrell thought he’d been doing well, but hearing it from Miceral in front of his old teacher sent goose bumps down his arms. Clutching the water jug, he found two cups and offered one to Erstad.

  “Do you have any coffee?” Erstad asked.

  “Let me see. I think there’s some left from breakfast.”

  The coffee left in the pot felt tepid, bordering on cold. Farrell found a clean mug, filled it, and waved his hand over the top as he returned to his guest.

  “There was enough left for a cup, but I had to heat it for you.” Handing it to his mentor, he received a grateful smile for his efforts.

  Still sweating profusely, he sat back on his heels, wiping his face and drinking water. He watched Erstad take a sip and smile.

  “Boy, I hate you for turning me on to this vice. Where on earth did you develop a taste for this? I know Haven lacks a good grade of bean, so it couldn’t be from drinking the swill we get here.”

  “A few years ago, I made my way to Belsport. Prince Wilhelm’s wizard—Darius—and I became friendly. He took me to this little shop with amazing coffee. Ever since, I’ve done my best to keep a good supply. Lisle makes sure to squirrel away my stock and use it sparingly.”

  “So”—Erstad arched his brows, keeping both hands around the steaming mug—“what prompted this morning ritual of beating Farrell?”

  “Miceral and I were discussing magic and why it made me so tired.” He couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at his lover. “He asked whether better conditioning might assist my wizardry.”

  Miceral reached out and squeezed Farrell’s hand. “I figured better conditioning would give him more stamina for working magic.”

  “So to improve his physical condition, you suggested he let you beat him on a daily basis?” Erstad’s light tone let Farrell know he was only half-serious. “Why not tie him to Nerti and make him run after her as she gallops around Gharaha?”

  Farrell snorted water through his nose.

  “Actually,” Miceral said when he’d stopped laughing, “this is very good conditioning, and it also serves to hone his self-defense skills.”

  “Or at least his self-preservation skills, judging by the welts.”

  “Hey!” Farrell gave them a mock scowl. “I’m still in the room, you know.”

  “Yes, I can see that from the red glow of your body.” Erstad’s shield went up just before Farrell considered tossing a ball of water at him.

  “So, what prompted your unexpected visit?” Hopefully, that would end the talk of his bruises.

  “I haven’t seen much of you lately. I figured I’d come early and we could talk on the way to the Elder Circle.” Erstad gave him a sharp look, and Farrell stood to hide his frown that the mere mention of the session brought to his face. “You are planning to attend?”

  “Of course. We began our training earlier today so I could make the meeting. Just because I’m in love doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my responsibilities. Horgon and I went over the agenda last night.”

  “Wesfazial and I are still amazed at how well you and Horgon work together.” Erstad arched a bushy eyebrow at Farrell. “Especially after how you treated him when you first met.”

  “Hey!” Miceral pointed a finger at the elder wizard. “My father didn’t exactly welcome Farrell with open
arms.”

  Erstad nodded once. “That’s true, but dropping Northhelm’s leader onto the dirt within minutes of meeting him wasn’t an exercise in restraint.”

  “Once we put that behind us, we found we liked each other.” Farrell shrugged. “I guess we both realized neither of us were a spawn of Neblor. And I needed someone to run Haven besides me. None of the other displaced rulers have the ability, so I figured I’d try the new guy.”

  “He’s being modest.” Miceral wrapped an arm around Farrell and gave him a brief hug. “Father told me Farrell’s offer upended his feelings toward us. Rather than use his authority to humble my father, Farrell reached out to try to make amends. He didn’t expect that, not after how they met. Once they started working together, Father found he couldn’t help but like Farrell. That of course changed his attitude toward me, and now we’re all getting along.”

  “I thought Lenore did something to him, but Nerti and Glendora both told me She hadn’t intervened.” Farrell wiped his face with the towel again. “Whatever the reason, he’s been great. With him handling the day-to-day running of Haven, I’ve had time to get back to what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “Like clean your workroom?” Erstad stared down his nose at his onetime student.

  Farrell shook his head. “I even organized my workroom. Feel free to look while I go get clean.”

  Farrell headed to the bath chamber, not waiting for an answer.

  “Don’t take the rest of the morning primping,” Erstad called after him. “We’re all friends.”

  Muttering, Farrell filled the tub and stripped off his sweaty clothing. Much as he hated the comments, he knew he’d earned a few big red marks today. And he couldn’t soak them away either. A sigh escaped his lips as he stepped into the tub.

  Mindful Erstad waited for him, he washed and dried quickly and then cleaned his teeth. Once he returned to his room, he magically summoned suitable clothes.