Paperback: 296 pages
Publisher: DSP Publications (April 14, 2015)
Amazon: The Eye And The Arm (Champion of the Gods #2)
Amazon Kindle: The Eye And The Arm (Champion of the Gods #2)
Champion of the Gods: Book Two
After defeating Meglar at Belsport, Farrell returns to Haven to recover from his injuries, but Khron, the god of war, has other ideas. He gives Farrell a new mission: free the survivors of the ancient dwarf realm of Trellham from their three-thousand-year banishment. To fulfill Khron's near impossible task, Farrell will need the help of his distance ancestor, the legendary wizard Kel. But Kel has been dead for a thousand years.
Farrell finds information hinting that Kel is alive, so he moves his search to Dumbarten, Kel's birthplace. To reach Dumbarten unannounced, Farrell and Miceral disguise themselves as mercenaries on board a merchant vessel. Their journey is disrupted when pirates attack their ship. While attempting to subdue the attack, Farrell is struck down by one of Meglar’s minions.
Unconscious and trapped in his own mind, Farrell's only chance for survival rests with Miceral and the peregrine king Rothdin entering his thoughts and helping him sort fact from illusion. To reach Farrell, they will need to rely on an untested spell from one of Kel's spellbooks. If they succeed, Miceral can guide Farrell home safely. If not, Farrell will destroy not only himself, but Miceral, Rothdin, and everyone around him.
Still holding the book, he entered the sitting room. For most of his life, the allure of returning home to Yar-del captured his imagination. Every time he’d visited, he hoped to one day live with his mother and claim his birthright. That dream died when Meglar killed his mother and Heminaltose on the walls of Yar-del.
The chair he moved slammed into the wall, rousing him from his somber musings. He grew up at Haven, and Heminaltose had been his family. The bond that connected his heart to Yar-del had been his mother. Her death severed that link, turning Yar-del into nothing more than a location on a map.
Yet, in the blink of an eye, Kel rekindled his yearning to return home. Across the centuries, his ancestor reached out and reminded him what it meant to be part of the royal house of Yar-del.
Satisfied with the room, he walked toward his bedroom.
“Did you enjoy your afternoon?”
“I did until Khron interrupted our lunch to anoint me His Chosen and task me with freeing the dwarves of Trellham.” He caught the hint of anger in his mental voice and took a deep breath.
“I can tell you are not pleased with your new title. I assume you voiced your displeasure to Khron.”
“I did. Khron told me if I beat Him in a fight, I didn’t have to be His Chosen.” He snorted at the absurdity of his tale. “I nearly won, but Honorus tripped me just as I was going for the winning strike.”
Her mental laugh improved his dour mood. Did her emotions bleed through their link? Before he could ask, she spoke. “I’m certain Master Baylec will be pleased to hear how much you’ve progressed.”
“Indeed.” Smiling, he almost forgot why he’d contacted her. “Khron also gave me a book written by Kel to help me with the task. I want to talk to the senior wizards to see if they have any ideas that will help. Miceral suggested I invite you, Klissmor, and Rothdin to join us.”
“Miceral is a wise Muchari. Your adoptive father, Klissmor, and I might not have the answers you need, but we fought during the war, so our knowledge may prove helpful.”
He stopped walking. How had he not realized they’d been there? “I’ll…. We’ll…. I mean, let’s meet in an hour. I’ll contact Roth… Father and let him know what we’re doing.”
“Don’t be so flustered, little one.” This time her chuckle felt like a mother instructing her child. “Sometimes even the wisest can miss the obvious.”
She left his mind, leaving him shaking his head and smiling.
“Why the smile?”
He looked up and saw Miceral standing in the doorway to his closet. “Nerti admonished me like a child.”
Miceral laid a new tunic and pants on the bed. “What did you do this time?”
He waved his hand near his face. “Nothing like that. I somehow never made the connection that she, Klissmor, and Rothdin fought at Trellham. Had I thought about it, I probably would have figured it out, but it just never crossed my mind before she said something.”
He looked at Miceral, who shrugged. “What?”
“I think I need to speak to Glendora about an annulment of our union. You’re clearly not as bright as you led me to believe.”
Sneering, he gave Miceral a fake laugh. “Keep it up and you might find out I’m not as sweet and innocent as you thought either.”
“I’ll give you sweet, but who said you were innocent?” Peeling the tunic over his head, Miceral gave him a suggestive look.
Staring at the naked torso, Farrell put the velvet-wrapped book on the table and took off his shirt. “No one I know.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andrew Q. Gordon wrote his first story back when yellow legal pads, ball point pens were common and a Smith Corona correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting with technology, he now takes his MacBook somewhere quiet when he wants to write.
He currently lives in the Washington, D.C. area with his partner of eighteen years, their young daughter and dog. In addition to dodging some very self-important D.C. ‘insiders’, Andrew uses his commute to catch up on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy, baseball and seeing how much coffee he can drink in a day and not get the shakes.
On Facebook: www.facebook.com/andrewqugordon,
On Twitter: @andrewqgordon,
Or just email him: firstname.lastname@example.org
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