Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2 Page 6

  Silently mouthing Miceral’s age, Farrell eyed his companion more closely.

  “You heard right.” Miceral nodded. “Seventy-five years ago, when I was particularly despondent at the prospect of being alone forever, Lenore’s avatar paid me a visit. Have you ever met an avatar?”

  Farrell laughed. “Too many times for my liking.”

  “Exactly. After the shock of the moment wore off, She told me that She and Her Brother would send me someone to spend my life with, but it would not be soon. To ease my loneliness, Lenore sent Klissmor to be my companion and close friend. She told me, ‘He whom Nerti chooses to be her rider will be the one.’”

  Taking Farrell’s hand, Miceral rubbed it gently. “I suppose it’s a bit unfair to you. I’ve waited almost eight decades to meet you, and you only just learned of me. I also know I can be a bit much. It’s just a euphoric time for me. It’s hard to explain, but looking at you I feel I’ve found a missing piece of myself. Normally I’m not this forward, but knowing you’re the one Lenore sent and that you’re so damn adorable makes it very hard for me to not be giddy.”

  Miceral talked so fast at the end that Farrell lifted a finger to the man’s lips.

  “My turn.” He smiled. “Honorus did tell me he’d send me someone. It’s just that he did it today, right before Nerti showed up. It was almost an afterthought. And He didn’t go into as much detail as Lenore gave you. I suppose that’s the difference between the Mother of Us All and the Sky Father.”

  Farrell let out a halting, rueful laugh. Miceral’s eye roll and grin helped calm him.

  “I also felt something, but until you just said it, I didn’t know how to name it. Now I do. Completeness. I feel whole. When I first saw you and felt that tug, I hoped you were the one, but how could I know? In my doubt, I moved cautiously. I didn’t want to be disappointed or hurt again.” Farrell shrugged, turning his head. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through his doubts. When he returned his gaze to Miceral, he was met with a pair of warm eyes and a joyous smile. Nodding once, he continued.

  “Miceral, I feel the same as you, but it scares me. Losing you scares me more. How silly is that? I’ve known you less than an hour, and I’m afraid to lose what I don’t even have.”

  Miceral laced their fingers together and squeezed gently. “You’re not silly. The gods have spoken. It’s hard to resist where Their hands are involved. Foolish would be to fight what you know They want for you.”

  Nodding, Farrell forced himself to smile. “So if you can handle my awkwardness and the fact that, at twenty-seven, I’m a mere child compared to you, I can handle your eagerness to ask for my hand in marriage.”

  “You really think I want to marry a silly, soft human? Please, a Muchari does have standards, you know. Ask my father.”

  Farrell laughed, but after a moment’s reflection, the smile drained from his face.

  Miceral’s eyes narrowed and Farrell felt his grip tighten. “What’s wrong? It was a joke.”

  A union needed honesty to last. Knowing this didn’t make it easier to tell Miceral the truth. Farrell let out a shaky breath.

  “There are things about me you need to know, dark, dangerous things.”

  Countering Farrell’s frown, Miceral gave him a smile and a wink. “You mean other than being a fearless wizard who charges entire armies all by himself?”

  Despite Miceral’s joke, Farrell didn’t smile back. “My destiny is to face Meglar alone. He killed three of the most powerful wizards of our age. Heminaltose, Sanduval, and his own wife, Queen Zenora of Yar-del, my mother.”

  His mind screamed for him to look away, but he couldn’t. Whatever Miceral’s reaction, he needed to see it. Slowly Miceral nodded.

  “So that makes your father….”

  “Meglar.”

  “But Zenora’s father, King Bren, ordered his grandson killed. How can you be him?”

  Farrell’s mouth felt too dry to speak. He swallowed twice to wet his tongue and pressed on. “My mother and grandfather created an elaborate scheme to fake my death. Then they sent me to a small temple to Honorus in the westernmost city in Yar-del. After six months there, I was taken to Heminaltose’s school at Haven. No one told me I was really Prince Halloran of Yar-del, and Heminaltose kept me out of sight for years. To all the world, Halloran is dead and Farrell is Heminaltose’s last student.”

  Miceral gave him another thoughtful nod but kept silent. Unsure of his welcome, Farrell tried to free his hand. Miceral’s fingers remained firm. His second attempt found him being pulled closer.

  “Don’t.” The word came out harsh, but Miceral’s face lacked any sign of anger. “Please, don’t. Why are you pulling away?”

  Snorting, Farrell rolled his eyes. “Oh, maybe it has something to do with telling you my father is the insane wizard trying to kill you and your people as well as conquer the Seven Kingdoms.”

  “Okay, you win the worst-father contest, but you’re not him. Lenore and Honorus clearly trust you. That’s all that matters. After waiting seventy-five years to meet you, it would be a poor time to second-guess Her.”

  Miceral gave Farrell a smile that dispelled some of his doubts, but not all.

  “Come here.”

  He felt himself being gathered into Miceral’s arms. The desire to get closer suppressed his urge to resist. Pressed against the hard chain mail, he took in Miceral’s scent.

  “You reek of Chamdon entrails.” Pushing back, Farrell couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “You really need to change before we do that again.”

  The look of shock on Miceral’s face quickly morphed into his ever-present grin. “If you reject me like that, there might not be an ‘again.’ I have feelings, you know.”

  “I’m sorry.” He laughed again, and Miceral playfully hit his arm. Farrell grabbed the offending hand and tugged Miceral toward him and into a kiss.

  “Apology accepted.” Ducking his head down, the warrior sniffed loudly. Wrinkling his nose, he winced. “I do smell. Sorry. However”—he refused to let Farrell move away—“you asked if I really wanted to spend time with you, and the answer is yes. I trust Lenore to send me the right person.”

  “It’s more than just trust, Miceral.” Farrell’s emotions swung back toward despair. “Having to fight Meglar could prove fatal. Our time together could be very short. Are you prepared to live out your centuries-long life after that?”

  “If that’s the risk I have to take, so be it. This is a dangerous age. Should Meglar defeat us, the Eight Gates of Neblor will open and Neldin will cover the world in darkness. Rather than worry about a future that might not happen, we should enjoy our time now.”

  Miceral inched nearer; their gazes locked. After a moment’s hesitation, Farrell moved closer, his body acting on the desire he felt. Miceral’s hand brushed his face, pushing its way through his hair before pulling their heads together.

  Pressing him against the wall, Miceral lowered his head until their lips met.

  “Wow.” Farrell’s voice came out barely a whisper, but he knew Miceral heard him.

  “Yeah, wow.” Before Miceral could seek a second kiss, Farrell heard the rumble of an assault on the new shield.

  “Your dad calling?”

  “Not strong enough for it to be him,” he said absently. He assessed the shield through his link. “Must be the remaining wizards trying to weaken the shield. It has had no effect so far, but we should get the evacuation started.”

  Miceral stole another kiss, quick but invigorating, before resuming their trek.

  Cut into the bowels of the mountain, the Great Hall stretched hundreds of feet in front of them. Globes of wizard’s fire, hundreds of them, gave the room a feel of sunlight. Scanning the layout, Farrell moved confidently. Keeping mental track of his position, he led Miceral to a spot close to the middle of the hall.

  “This is where I’ll create the Door.”

  Miceral swept the room. “Here?”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” Arching his e
yebrow, Farrell dared his companion to make one.

  “Um… no, but why here and not against a wall?”

  Farrell laughed. “Really? You want me to give you an answer? Would the spatial requirements of creating a Door mean anything to you?”

  Shaking his head, Miceral bowed mockingly. “No, so I’ll leave this for the mighty, powerful, incredible, magnificent wizard to handle.”

  “Strong, good-looking, and wise. Honorus outdid himself.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  The cheek of the man had Farrell grinning, and he quickly drew his staff to remind himself why Lenore had sent him to Northhelm. Miceral turned toward the entrance. Dozens of people milled around, and more entered every minute.

  “Since you will not need my help for this, I’ll use this time to gather my possessions. Things might get hectic before the end.” Miceral gave him a wink before spinning on his heel. He turned back just before disappearing to flash Farrell a smile.

  Pushing Miceral from his thoughts, Farrell paced out a distance he knew would not exceed the size of the terminus and marked the ends with the tip of his staff. He walked off the distance two more times to be certain, then secured his markers.

  Using the first mark, he locked in the initial point. Slowly, he reached as high as he could. A blue-green line of energy sizzled to mark the path his staff followed. When he had secured all four points, he pushed his will into the space framed by the lines.

  People carrying their possessions began to assemble behind him in the orderly chaos of an evacuation. Checking for someone in authority, he didn’t find anyone who stood out as in charge.

  “Stay back. It’s not safe yet.” Terse, he didn’t want anyone to mistake his words as anything other than an order.

  Farrell stepped through the Door and emerged back in Haven. The air felt fresher and crisper than in Northhelm. Keeping his focus, he sent a seeker spell into the complex. Having alerted Erstad and Wesfazial that refugees would be coming, it came as no surprise when soldiers and staff ran into the room within a minute. Before he finished explaining what they could expect, dozens more arrived, with the promise of others still to come. Satisfied Haven understood the situation, he moved back to Northhelm to organize the exodus.

  Though the number of people had swelled to fill half the vast hall during his absence, the chaos had turned into a semblance of order. Soldiers lined the room, directing people to various places. Families stacked their property neatly against the walls as they assumed their places in line. Despite how orderly things appeared, the evacuation would still need days to complete. Assuming the shield held.

  “My people are ready to receive you.” He pointed to those closest to the portal. “Enter the Door as quickly as you can. The people of Haven will assist you when you arrive.”

  He went through with the first group to ensure he spoke the truth. Having practiced this many times before, he needn’t have worried. Everything went as he expected. Better. Dozens of clerics from the temples of Lenore and Honorus had arrived to assist. A senior brother and sister stepped forward.

  “Greetings, Lord Farrell,” a priestess of Lenore said. “My brothers and sisters stand ready to receive the Favored of Honorus and Lenore.”

  “My thanks, Sister. I admit, I was a bit concerned.”

  She graced him with the barest of smirks. “One less worry, my lord.”

  Mumbling his thanks, he scanned the room for his mentors. Failing to find them, he stepped through a corner of his Door, hoping to find Miceral. Instead he found Glendora standing by the Door, alternately examining the energy lines and directing others to pass through.

  “Your Door is interesting. Heminaltose, my old teacher, taught his best students to create Doors in this fashion.” She turned from the magical construct to smile fondly at him. “You do him proud. I never mastered his technique.”

  “I try to honor his memory in all I do. He was….” His eyes started to tear, forcing him to blink. “He was as honorable a man as I will ever know.”

  Glendora placed her thin hand on his cheek. “He would be proud of you, Farrell.”

  He nodded, swallowing hard.

  “Have you eaten today?”

  “Not since breakfast.” His stomach, as if it heard the implied prospect of food, rumbled loudly.

  A kindly smile crossed the older woman’s face. “When one serves the will of the Holy Mother, it is not uncommon for our plans to change. Come, let us find you some food. The exodus will take a few days, and we can’t have you fainting from hunger when we need you most.”

  Unsure if she meant to chide him for fainting earlier, Farrell didn’t answer. Glendora seemed content to walk in silence, so he held his tongue.

  The kitchen was really a military-style dining hall. Northhelm might be evacuating, but soldiers needed to remain until the end. And soldiers needed to eat.

  When the pair walked in, the entire room stood at attention.

  “They honor you, Grand Master Farrell.” She nodded to people as they passed. “Tales of your deeds have spread rapidly. Grohl made it known you honored his family by agreeing to be his bond brother. Klissmor told all you ride Nerti at her request. Miceral’s guard told of how you rode through an entire army to rescue them. And among the wizards there is talk of how you saved everyone when our shield was not adequate. The whole of Northhelm honors you for one reason or another.”

  Red from the unexpected attention, he thanked them as Glendora led him to the food-service area. Helping herself to barely enough to feed a crow, she heaped great amounts of food onto his plate. “I already ate, but you need food. I know what effect high wizardry has on a person. You’ll need all this and more to maintain your shield and the Door at the same time.”

  Accepting her wisdom, he did his best not to drop anything she put on his plate. When he could manage no more, she led him to a partially occupied table with two adjoining seats. She asked one young warrior who appeared to be finished to fetch some water. Before Farrell could protest his ability to get his own drink, the eager soldier dashed off to get a tankard of cool water. Farrell had begun to eat just as the lad returned and had to choke out his thanks with a mouth full of food.

  “So what really happened out there?” asked a young Muchari soldier. “Did you really blast thousands of Chamdon with your staff?”

  “Actually, he created a half dozen unicorns out of energy and had them trample the Chamdon to death.” Miceral’s voice from behind surprised him.

  Glendora stood up. “This is where I take my leave and check on the progress of the other wizards. I leave you in the capable and willing hands of Miceral.” She winked at him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, last student of Heminaltose.” She bowed slightly and left.

  If her intent had been to embarrass him, she’d done a masterful job. His face felt hot enough to fry an egg. He ducked his head and shoveled down a few forkfuls of food.

  Miceral took the place next to him, launching into an account of what had happened. At points Miceral looked to him to further explain things to the rapt audience.

  By the time Miceral got to the destruction of their shield, Farrell felt the effects of too much food and too much wizardry. After the third stifled yawn, Miceral told the crowd Farrell needed to get some rest.

  “I have to return to my duties, but Ostert will show you to your room.” Miceral put his hand on the shoulder of the young warrior who’d asked the first question. “I’ve arranged to have a guard outside your door in case you need anything or something happens that requires your attention. Also, if your link with Nerti is anything like the one I share with Klissmor, you ought to be able to call her at any time.”

  “Nerti?”

  “Yes?” Nerti’s voice responded instantly.

  “Sorry.” He felt foolish for bothering her. “Miceral told me we were linked. I was just testing it.”

  If the communications were really a “voice,” then he “heard” the amusement in her tone. “For good or ill, we a
re joined until the Goddess tells me otherwise. Hopefully that pleases you. She chose well for me, and I have thanked Her already for pairing me with one so worthy.”

  “You are gracious, Nerti, but how could I be anything but honored?”

  The tiny hint of her in his mind disappeared. “It works. We’re linked.”

  Perhaps his eyes gave him away, or maybe Miceral didn’t want to part, but before he let Ostert lead him away, Miceral drew him aside.

  “I wish I could take you myself, but I cannot neglect my responsibilities. I’ll come find you in the morning.”

  “I understand duty all too well.” Farrell tentatively reached out his hand. When Miceral grabbed it, they both smiled. He wanted to kiss him good-bye, but in front of so many people, he didn’t know how Miceral would react. They stood staring at each other for a few seconds before Miceral stepped back.

  “I better go. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  Miceral let go of his hand, walking backward. After a couple of steps, he turned on his heel and marched out. When Miceral disappeared around the corner, Farrell noticed everyone looking in his direction. Before he became too embarrassed, Ostert moved to his side.

  “Come, I’ll take you to your room.” Ostert’s smile seemed genuine. “You look tired.”

  “Thank you. I am.”

  Ostert peppered him with questions as they walked to his room. What wouldn’t he give for a moment of quiet? Wearily he gave only the briefest answers.

  “We’re almost there, Master Wizard,” Ostert said after they’d walked for several minutes. Then, for the first time since they left the mess area, Ostert grew quiet.

  “Was there something else you wanted to ask?”

  “Well, yes.” Pausing, the warrior looked at him, then turned away. “You do realize Miceral likes you?”

  After blurting out the words, Ostert turned back to him. Farrell stared at his guide, unsure why he’d asked the question. How did he answer it, anyway?