“Because it’s not.” Farrell sighed. Just retelling the day made him tired again. “Next I tried riding with Nerti, but as soon as we set foot on Gharaha, I sensed something was wrong. One of the defensive spells was bleeding through.”
“What does that mean?”
“Breaking it down to its simplest terms, the spell had been laid improperly by Wesfazial. We designed all the spells to meld together, so they had to be cast properly. Before I used the concealment spell, I was supposed to check it. I guess I’ve been so preoccupied with Kel’s book this past month, I forgot. The two spells were slightly out of sync, and the underlying spell was no longer hidden.”
He waited for Miceral to nod before he continued. “When I tried to ‘repair’ the problem, I almost started a cascade reaction that threatened to wipe out months or even years of work. Fortunately, I stopped the breakdown before it got started, but I still need to go back and fix everything. That will take days of effort. After that, Nerti told me to go take a bath and relax.”
Exhaling, he locked eyes with Miceral. Why did any of that matter right now? Staring at his partner, he saw concern in Miceral’s gaze. After the effort Miceral had gone through to make tonight special, Farrell couldn’t—wouldn’t—let his mood drag them down. Dipping a finger into the gravy and potatoes, he licked the food-covered digit. He made a pop when he removed it and smiled when the twinkle returned to Miceral’s eyes.
“This”—he gestured toward the table, hoping not to sound too sappy—“is exactly what I needed tonight. I feel much better already.”
Miceral wiggled his eyebrows and smiled. “Dinner was just the start. Wait until you see what’s next.”
He let Miceral pull him from his chair. “I like the sound of that.”
STEPPING OUT the western door, Farrell breathed in the crisp spring air. Blue sky, cool breeze, and the smell of new growth made this the perfect day for their outing. Shifting the pack he carried, he reached for Miceral’s hand. “It’s as if the Six made this day perfect for us.”
“You should thank Lenore for this day.” Nerti’s voice presaged her arrival. She and Klissmor rounded the outcropping of rock, tossing their heads playfully. Even they seemed to appreciate the fine weather.
“I did that before we left our rooms.” He had said a prayer of thanks to all Six for the past year.
“Where are we going?” Farrell asked, settling quickly on Nerti’s muscular back.
Klissmor took off so quickly that Miceral’s blond hair whipped around his face.
“It’s a surprise.” Miceral sounded immensely pleased.
“Really?”
“Consider it payback for our postunion trip. Even if it’s only a day trip.”
Farrell’s body tingled at the answer. Who knew his partner could be this romantic? Pressing himself against Nerti’s soft, snow-white mane, a thought stuck him. “Did you put him up to this?”
“No.” Nerti shook her head beneath him. “It was he who asked for our help.”
Farrell’s smile grew even wider. “What kind of help?”
“Klissmor and I have spent the last three weeks scouring this side of the mountain for a place for you to enjoy your day. It will be our gift to you both.”
Could his day get any better? “Not sure I deserve a gift from either of you. It should be I who finds ways to reward you.”
“Klissmor and I became mates at what you call the summer festival. Feel free to devise an appropriate treat.”
Farrell laughed out loud. “I shall do my best, my queen.”
“What’s so funny?” Miceral asked. Farrell twisted to the right and found Miceral watching him. After explaining his conversation, he buried his nose in Nerti’s neck and watched the ground whiz by. Rarely did he get the chance to ride with nothing pressing clamoring for his attention. Today he had nothing to do but enjoy himself, and he intended to do just that.
Their path started out wide enough for the pair to run side by side, but it slowly narrowed. Several times he noted footpaths break from the main route, and he wondered where they led, how they came to be, when they were made. At the fifth intersection, Klissmor turned right, taking them north.
Farrell tried to follow their route using a mental map of the area, but he quickly lost track of direction when Nerti began to weave around trees. He thrilled at the feel of Nerti’s body flexing and straining as she took turns that threatened to dislodge him. Through their shared link, he could feel her excitement. Could she do this even faster without him?
Suddenly the trees melted away and they emerged onto rolling hills of prairie grass. Peering over her head, Farrell was stunned to find a wide swath of trampled grass. The lane could easily accommodate six mounted riders.
“My unicorns enjoy running, so we enlisted their help,” Nerti said as she drew even with Klissmor.
Using the wider path, the pair increased speed, forcing Farrell to burrow into Nerti’s body to keep his eyes from drying out. The smell from the trampled grass reached his nose, causing him to breathe in deeply. He loved the scents of spring, the renewal, and the freshness.
They continued at a full gallop for almost half an hour, and Farrell felt the cool spring air growing warmer. When they crested a small ridge, he spotted a tree line that marked a major river. He didn’t need to see a map to know the Weivre River flowed west out of the Trellham Mountains toward Hamble on the western coast.
Nerti slowed her pace when they reached the thin band of trees and soon arrived at a small clearing by a river swollen by the melting snow. The sun sparkled off the babbling water, creating a soothing effect.
Inside the sheltered glade, Farrell let the warm sun take the chill off his windblown skin. After he collected enough cold water for all of them, Miceral opened the basket.
With an exaggerated flourish, he began pulling items from inside: two of Farrell’s favorite cheeses, small loaves of bread baked with a spicy chicken he liked, and a tub of Honalese clotted cream.
Farrell’s stomach rumbled as he watched Miceral take out a large bag of oats and several apples. Next, he set two red apples aside and offered the rest to Klissmor and Nerti.
“Yar-del shepherd’s cheese? Erdish spiced chicken sandwiches? Clotted cream? How? Who?” Farrell turned toward the unicorns, who looked on with interest.
“Not I, little one.” Nerti shook her head. “I don’t know what you like to eat.”
When Farrell turned back toward his partner, Miceral grinned and handed him a sandwich. “You were right. Lisle does melt when you ask her to help you do something romantic.”
He accepted his lunch and tried to rein in his emotions. After being alone so long, having someone work this hard to make his day special had tears forming at the edges of his eyes. He swallowed loudly, keeping his gaze on his food.
“Are you okay?” Miceral asked in a soft voice.
Nodding slowly, Farrell looked up. He couldn’t stop a tear from escaping his control. “Never better. This is just so… amazing. I… I never…. It’s wonderful.”
Brushing the back of his hand across his cheek, he leaned over and cupped the back of Miceral’s head, drawing them closer. He pressed their lips together, but before it turned too passionate, he pulled back and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Before he lost control again, he picked up his sandwich. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
FARRELL’S FINGERS and face were sticky with sweet cream. He probably ate too much, but he almost never had clotted cream anymore.
“What did you have to give Kers to get you that tub of cream?” He licked his fingers, but that made the feeling worse.
“Nothing.” Miceral found a cloth napkin and helped Farrell to his feet. “I asked and he had it to the kitchen the next day. Believe it or not, people really like you. When they found out what I was doing and why, everyone tried to help.”
After they cleaned up, Farrell created a dock out of green energy. He sat on the edge, remove
d his boots, and dangled his feet in the swift-flowing water.
“That water has to be ice cold.” Miceral sat behind him and hugged Farrell to his chest. “Why are you doing that?”
“Sure it’s cold, but after having my feet stuck in those boots all day, it feels wonderful. Even if I can’t do it for long.”
Leaning back, he enjoyed all the sensations of the day. Miceral kissed the top of his head and rested his cheek on Farrell’s hair. If he didn’t know better, Farrell would suspect the Six had conspired to make this day perfect just for him.
He stared at the water rushing over his now tingling feet. Reluctantly he pulled them onto the dock. After all the effort Miceral put into planning the perfect day, he hated what he needed to do next. He found a towel in his endless pocket and quietly dried himself. Instead of asking his partner to move back, he extended the dock another three feet and stretched his legs.
While the sun warmed his feet, he considered his words. “I’m not sure if this will ruin our day, but I finished reading Kel’s book.”
“Why would that upset me?”
He twisted until he faced Miceral. “I… we need to leave Haven.”
Miceral blinked but otherwise didn’t react. “Why?”
He took a deep breath and glanced at Nerti, who along with Klissmor had moved closer to the makeshift jetty. She gave him the barest of nods. “Two reasons. First, Kel’s book is clear. He collected items at the behest of the Six that They intend for me to have. I need to get them, and they are scattered around the world.”
“Do you know what he left you?”
“No.” He swallowed. “I don’t even know exactly where he left things.”
Miceral’s expression told Farrell he didn’t like what he heard. “Why would he do that? The book was meant for you. Why not just tell you?”
“He didn’t say, but I think it’s a test to ensure his heir is a powerful enough wizard.”
Miceral shook his head and stared at the water. After several long moments, he looked at Farrell. “What’s the other reason?”
“I need to speak to Kel.” He stared into Miceral’s blue eyes and fought the urge to turn away.
“How? Kel died two thousand years ago.”
“Kel’s still alive.” Farrell nodded several times. “He is. On a page near the end, he explains that he found a way to suspend his life functions to extend his life. There’s a small circle on the page. If it’s red, his efforts failed. If it’s green, he’s alive. The dot is green.”
Miceral’s jaw clenched and relaxed a couple of times before he looked over Farrell’s shoulder to Klissmor and Nerti. “Comments from either of you?”
“Farrell and I discussed this yesterday. I don’t entirely approve, but Klissmor and I believe it is Lenore’s wish that Farrell find Kel. For that reason we support his decision.”
Farrell watched as Miceral struggled with the news. He wanted to reach over and grab his hand, rub his back, anything to ease the tension, but he knew better. Miceral needed to work through it—without Farrell’s help.
“Do you at least know where we should go first?”
“Dumbarten, Kel’s birth place.” His smile quickly faded as he pressed on with what he needed to tell Miceral. “The first problem, however, will be getting there. I don’t know anywhere in Dumbarten that isn’t sealed off magically. So even if I had point of reference, I can’t open a Door.”
“How do you intend to get there?”
Before he could answer, Nerti did it for him, voicing the reason for her reluctance.
“By ship.”
Chapter 6
SEVENTH HOUR approached as Farrell led Miceral to the small meeting room he set aside for their celebration. His smile turned into a broad grin when he saw the changes the staff had made to the normally drab room. Flowers graced the small tables, resting on top of tablecloths in a vibrant shade of green that reminded him of new boxwood growth. Serving tables lined the walls, their tray holders waiting for the food. Chairs seemed placed at random spots about the room.
Miceral tore his gaze from the surroundings and turned to Farrell with a raised eyebrow.
Farrell forced out a small laugh. “What? It’s our night. I get to choose how we celebrate.”
“I hope no one is offended.”
He kissed Miceral on the cheek. “Anyone who is probably doesn’t belong here.”
Miceral opened his mouth, but his gaze locked on a spot over Farrell’s shoulder. He didn’t need to turn around to know his partner found the “window” he’d created. Miceral released Farrell’s hand and walked to the far end of the room.
“Amazing.” Miceral leaned both hands against the stone windowsill. “You can even feel a breeze. Is it real?”
Farrell reached up and stopped Miceral from slamming his head against the stone. “Careful. No, it’s not a real window. The air you feel is from a spell I learned as a novice. Haven’t had many chances to use it, but it seemed appropriate for tonight.”
He wiggled between Miceral and the window. He hoped that his partner would take the hint, and he was rewarded when Miceral pulled them together.
“When did you find time to do this?”
Pressing back, he enjoyed the safety he always felt nestled against Miceral’s chest. “Three nights ago when I met with staff to plan the party. See the moon?” He pointed to the right side of the window.
They stood holding each other while people set up behind them. Normally he wouldn’t ignore the staff—it felt rude—but tonight he wanted to enjoy the moment. Who knew when they’d get another chance?
“Are we interrupting?” Horgon’s voice ended their private moment.
He tried to turn around, but Miceral tightened his hold. “Nothing we’d be embarrassed for you to see, Father.”
Several people laughed, and Miceral relented and released his hold. Farrell turned and found Baylec, Thomas, and their wives standing in the main doorway beside Horgon. Like a proud parent, Miceral ushered their guests to see what Farrell wrought. Soon more people arrived, and the pair excused themselves to greet their other guests.
The servers appeared and began to circulate, offering drinks and appetizers to the new arrivals. Others guests arrived in a steady trickle, and the room filled with the sound of friends talking and laughing.
By eighth hour most of their guests had arrived, and Farrell made certain the staff understood that unicorns and peregrines required special accommodation. When he noticed his brothers happily eating… something, he grabbed a plate and filled it to near overflowing. He spied Prince Peter of Belsport looking bored as his father talked to Horgon and took the seat next to his young friend.
“What’s new and exciting in your life, other than I see you have a need to shave?”
“Shaving is terrible.” The teen put his hand to a small scab near his chin. “All I do is cut myself. But I look foolish if don’t.”
Still chewing his food, Farrell shook his head. When he swallowed, he put his fork down. “You’re friends with one of the most generous wizards alive. Why didn’t you ask him for help?”
“And just who would that generous mage be?” The look of mock confusion on his face made Farrell chuckle.
“Why are we friends if you don’t have any respect for me?” He held out his left hand and fetched a small, rectangular polished oak box. He placed it the table and slid it over to Peter. “A gift.”
Peter opened the lid and held up a straight-edged folding razor. “Um… thanks, but I already have a razor.”
“Not like this one.” Farrell used his hand to cover his mouth as food sprayed the table. He gave Peter a grimace as he looked around to see who’d noticed what he’d done. “When I was your age, I hated to shave, maybe more than you. Heminaltose insisted, however, I not let him see my ‘mangy teenage beard.’ After cutting myself too many times, I enchanted that blade.”
He noticed Horgon and Prince Wilhelm had stopped talking. Peter picked up the razor, and pulled the blade
from the handle. “Doesn’t look any different from the razor Father gave me.”
“And I don’t look nearly as threatening as Miceral, but we’re both dangerous in our own way. That blade will always be sharp and never cut or nick you, no matter how clumsily you shave.”
“Heminaltose must have been very proud of you.” Wilhelm motioned for his son to let him see the gift.
“Not exactly.” Farrell shrugged. “He wanted me to find a magical solution to my shaving problem. This just wasn’t what he had in mind.”
“Seems a rather ingenious solution.” Horgon accepted the razor from Wilhelm. “What did he want you to do?”
“Use magic to remove my whiskers. Once I learned that trick, I realized this wasn’t quite so clever.” He handed the razor back to its new owner. “Use it well. One word of warning, however. I made that when I was fifteen years old. I can’t promise the enchantments will work in all situations. What I mean is, it always worked properly when I used it to shave, but I never tested its powers in any other way. Best that you don’t try to impress anyone with your magical razor. You’ll hurt yourself or someone else.”
“Thank you, Farrell. This is amazing.” Peter put the box down and wrapped his arms around Farrell.
“You are welcome.” He almost told his friend how little value it had for him but realized that would probably ruin the mood. “It’s good to finally give it to someone who can use it like I did.”
“A generous gift indeed.” Wilhelm nodded and stood up. “Can I have a moment alone, Farrell?”
They made their way to where staff had set out dessert. Wilhelm grabbed a small plate and offered it to Farrell. “I’ve given thought to your request.”
Shaking his head, Farrell poured himself a cup of coffee. “That sounds ominous.”
“Nothing of the sort.” After placing a couple of small pastries on his plate, Wilhelm led them toward a table at the far end of the room. “Your idea to travel as mercenaries will likely not hold up to scrutiny. There’s more work available in the free cities than there are mercs to be hired, especially for a wizard. People will question your desire to leave, and worse, it will be the subject of intense gossip.”
The Eye and the Arm Page 6