“Penelope has a safe room in the villa.” Markus motioned toward the open door and didn’t wait for Farrell to follow before he started to walk. “Penelope and I spoke earlier, and she and Miceral will join us after we’ve had a chance to speak first.”
“This must be sensitive.”
Markus shook his head. “Not really, but I’d prefer to speak freely and not wonder if anyone is using a listening spell or scrying our conversation.”
Farrell kept such protections around himself that would detect anything, but he kept quiet and followed the king. They stopped before an unremarkable door with no handle or knob. Markus pulled out a small golden key and moved it closer to the wood. A keyhole appeared when the metal touched the door, and Markus used it to let them into the small room. Farrell felt the protection enclosing the space. Eight chairs surrounded a square oak table set with a pitcher of water and cups. Several more seats lined the wall.
“I’m not sure how much your mother told you before she….” Markus shut his mouth and exhaled. “My apologies.”
“She died, Markus.” He felt as if someone kicked him in the stomach as he spoke the words, but he pressed on. “You can’t offend me by speaking the truth.”
“Perhaps not, but it isn’t necessary to remind you either.” Markus sat and motioned toward a seat on the opposite side of the table. “As I was trying to say, Honorus’s choice of Hevnor to rule Dumbarten ensured some connection to Yar-del, but thirty centuries makes even that kinship tentative.”
Farrell laughed. “And yet you called me ‘cousin’ the first time we met.”
“Because our two people are more linked than you may realize.” Markus drank some of his coffee. “Tell me, what do you know regarding the origins of your father’s family?”
“The House of Vedri is as ancient as the House of Kel. Zargon was founded within years of Yar-del. Vedri came west from Lourdria after hearing about all the unoccupied land in Ardus.”
“Vedri did not come from Lourdria. He was the illegitimate son of King Vadra.” Markus took another drink, as if to give Farrell time to absorb his words. “After the fight with Kel when Honorus removed Vadra from the throne, Vadra’s sons and their relatives retired to the southern end of Dumbarten, where they had lands. When Vadra died some years later—some say under suspicious circumstances—his sons were divided over what to do next. So divided that they and their supporters ended up fighting a pitched battle.
“What actually happened is a matter of debate. History is spotty, but one version that is held above others is that Vadra’s youngest son, Vilden, was ambitious and chafed at being a vassal of the usurper Hevnor. He sought to create a new kingdom for himself in Ardus. His brothers had no issue with him leaving, but they opposed his attempt to take retainers and gold with him. When Vilden pressed his cause, a fight ensued. What exactly caused that fight isn’t entirely clear, but what we do know is that Vedri sided with Vilden, and he alone of Vadra’s sons survived.
“It is said Neldin, disguised as a faithful retainer, instigated the sibling war. Others say it was not Neldin Himself, but a secret follower of the Dark Lord doing his master’s bidding. It matters little either way. At the end only Vedri survived.
“After the fight, Vedri gathered the remains of his family and retainers and left Dumbarten. Hevnor eventually sought out the sons of Vadra, for they had not sworn allegiance to him after their father’s death. What he found were fallow lands, abandoned manor homes, and empty stables. The few who remained could only speak of the fight and how Vedri had gathered those who survived and led them to Ardus. At the time he did not know Vedri was an illegitimate son of Vadra.”
“How did you finally learn of his birthright?”
“When Kel founded the Order, he told us of Vedri’s connection to Vadra.”
Farrell had no doubt Kel spoke the truth. “Why was this information kept from the world at large?”
“As little as thirty years ago, a rebel nearly succeeded in using the Kentar invasion of Oglithan two thousand years ago as a rallying cry to rise up against my father. Imagine if it were known an heir to Vadra had not only survived, but founded the kingdom of Zargon.”
“And of course Zargon wouldn’t have been interested in telling the world Vedri was a son of Vadra for fear it would invite an invasion from Dumbarten.” Farrell finished his drink. “That doesn’t explain why this information was kept from me. I’m a son of the House of Vedri.”
“Would it have mattered, cousin?” Markus finished his drink and poured himself some water. “Would knowing your ancestors came from here and not Loudria have changed anything you did or thought?”
“No, not that. But Neldin’s hand in Vedri’s actions would have been useful to know.”
“Again, how so? Would knowing Neldin’s connection to the House of Vedri have changed your actions?” Markus peered at him over his cup before setting it down. “By the time you were old enough to understand, the connection between Neldin and Meglar had already been revealed. Given all your mother had to deal with, you can excuse her if she didn’t remember to correct an inaccuracy in your history lessons.”
“Of course.” He’d have forgiven her anything to have her back. “You began by saying Dumbarten and Yar-del are more closely joined than I knew.”
“Indeed.” Markus smiled. “Call it pride, arrogance, vanity, or even foolishness, but we in Dumbarten believe it is here, not Yar-del, that is the center of the fight against Neldin. Consider—Kel was born here, the Order was founded here, Hevnor, the brother of Kel, was chosen to rule after Vadra, and Kel returned here after he abdicated. Everything comes back to Dumbarten.
“Since Hevnor’s time my ancestors have known that when Neldin returned, our people would be called upon to fight his evil. It is what drove the children of Hevnor to unite the island under one rule. The Order of Kel was founded on the belief that we will be at the fore of the fight. All that Dumbarten has done over the centuries has been to ensure we are ready and prepared when Neldin returns.
“Yar-del, on the other hand, was the symbol everyone saw, the one everyone expected to be the first line of defense. Neldin focused his energy on Yar-del, leaving Dumbarten alone to quietly prepare to oppose His return.
“We are far from where Neldin expects to find a threat. Remember, Honorus sent Kel away, told him to leave Dumbarten. Coincidence or plan? I believe it was part of a greater plan to deceive the deceiver. Neldin saw the enemy as Yar-del under the rule of Kel, whom He hated most. Kel, who ended Neldin’s reign in Trellham. Kel, whose talent closed the door from Neblor and ended Neldin’s dreams of world conquest.
“How did Neldin begin this new war? By sending Meglar to destroy the symbol of His hated enemy. He not only conquered Yar-del, he destroyed it from within.”
Markus’s choice of words irritated Farrell. He took a moment before he responded. “What you say is true, but that doesn’t explain why Dumbarten has always been the secret center of Honorus’s plans.”
“Dumbarten’s geography and political stability have allowed us to grow and thrive unmolested. We have few enemies and none capable of posing a serious threat. Our navy keeps our shores safe and our trade ships protected. We have bustling ports, wealthy merchants, and a well-funded treasury. We’re isolated yet worldly, powerful yet neutral, and we’ve been vigilant for centuries.”
Farrell nodded. “You’re Honorus’s army.”
Markus placed his palms on the smooth wood in front of him and leaned forward. “No, cousin, Dumbarten is your army.”
The room turned into a tomb as Farrell weighed Markus’s explanation. He almost resented Honorus for using his family as a throwaway decoy, but Kel would have been a target no matter where he lived. The theory, however, made sense, fiendishly good sense. But it didn’t matter.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I must decline your offer. To drag you and your army into this would condemn you and it to certain death. This war will turn on who is the better wizard, not wh
ose army is bigger.”
“I agree that this war will not be won simply by force of arms, but neither will it be won by wizards alone.” Markus kept his gaze on Farrell. “Not even you can defeat Meglar and his army.”
“If I can lure my father and his troops onto the Plains of Gharaha, I will do just that, Markus.” He tried not to sound boastful, but he needed Markus to understand. “That was the plan Heminaltose received from Honorus. It’s what I’ve spent the last ten years perfecting.”
Markus leaned back, looking as serious as Farrell had ever seen him. “Honorus left to Hevnor the task to forge the army to march beside his brother Kel. Notwithstanding any plans given to Heminaltose, if it is your destiny to stand up to Meglar, it is ours to march beside you.”
“At the risk of offending you, cousin, do you fully understand this war? If I don’t beat Meglar, standing beside me will prove detrimental to you living a long life.”
The king laughed. “There are never guarantees in war. But like you, I have trained my whole life for this fight. It is the task Honorus left to the House of Hevnor. I am eager to show Honorus we did not fail Him.”
Farrell would have continued the argument, but he knew he couldn’t win. “It appears as you said, Markus—this is not my decision. My desire to handle this alone is as unrealistic as an attempt to calm the ocean. I must trust Honorus.” He smiled at his cousin and added, “I guess this makes us partners.”
“Well said, cousin. Partners we shall be. And Meglar will know fear when he learns the children of Kel and Hevnor are united in opposition to his mad plans.”
Chapter 27
“NO.” FARRELL turned his back on Penelope. The early-morning sun hadn’t crept high enough to warm the courtyard. He spun back a second later. “Absolutely not.”
She raised an eyebrow slightly. “It’s not your decision.”
“Actually, it is. You’re not coming with me.”
Meeting his gaze, she didn’t flinch. “Try to stop me.”
He crossed his arm and shook his head. “I won’t to have to because when I’m ready, I’ll just leave. I’d like to see you try to stop me.” He knew how childish he sounded, but this discussion was pointless.
“Perhaps we can talk about this later?” Miceral said. Penelope had interrupted their morning training by announcing she planned to go to Agloth with them. “Farrell and I will discuss it and let you know our decision.”
“There is nothing for you two to decide!” Penelope nearly shouted. “This isn’t just about you and Farrell. The fate of the world rests on your actions. We all have a stake in this war.”
“She is correct.” Rothdin’s voice inside his mind caused him to flinch. “The choice is not yours alone.”
Penelope’s smug expression told him that Rothdin spoke out loud.
“Enough!” Farrell’s voice echoed across the yard. “What makes anyone think they have a say in what I do?”
“We who serve the Six have some measure of say in what you do,” Rothdin said
Farrell could feel his control slipping as his anger threatened to overwhelm him. “Everyone in Dumbarten has an interest in how the kingdom is managed, but they do not get to tell Markus how to run the kingdom.”
“We’re trying to help, not give you orders.” Penelope’s eyes sought support from the others. Before they could weigh in, Farrell decided to end the debate.
“My life! My task! My decision! It’s difficult enough trying not to make a fatal mistake without everyone adding his or her opinion. If you don’t like my decision, too bad. I’m not asking for anyone’s approval.”
Before anyone could respond, Farrell walked away. After the third step, he lifted himself off the ground and flew over the wall and into the city. He didn’t look back as he soared over the bustling crowds below.
Hiding himself from the throngs of people filling Dreth’s busy streets, Farrell searched for a place to land. He decided to sit atop one of the palace spires, but as he approached, he saw a better location. Skirting a pennant from the House of Hevnor flapping in the wind, Farrell cleared the palace and headed toward Honorus’s temple.
Although not as high as the turrets he passed, the temple—like all of the Sky Father’s houses—had a wide ledge that could accommodate several peregrines. Facing the sea, this perch filled Farrell’s needs. His feet dangled over the edge as he watched the waves make their tireless trek toward land. Other than sitting by the ocean, however, Dreth felt nothing like Yar-del City.
Kel had designed and built his city to endure. He planned to live there for centuries and didn’t want temporary buildings anywhere. Nothing about the city happened by chance. It had an elegant yet powerful feel, even in the less well-heeled neighborhoods.
By contrast, Dreth sprawled. The palace and temples radiated strength and order, but the rest of the city seemed cobbled together by happenstance. As a whole, the city shouted its strength, but its aura came from its massive size that overwhelmed everyone, much like Dumbarten’s army.
Though he appreciated the deep history and beauty of Dreth, nothing compared to Kel’s magnificent city. Even the sea seemed more majestic as it lapped against the nearly two-hundred-foot-high cliff upon which the city had been built. Where the sea crashed into Yar-del City’s unmovable wall of rock, here the waves ended with a whimper before the tide pulled the water back into the ocean.
The noises from the busy city drowned out the rhythmic sound of the surf, but his mind still heard what his eyes saw. Ships dotted the horizon. Some made for the safety of the harbor, while others raised sails to begin their journey. A cool breeze caressed him and snatched the small warmth the still-low sun provided.
His peace lasted for several minutes before he heard sounds rising from the busy city. Below he noticed the chaotic flow of goods and people come to a halt. He didn’t need to follow the eyes and arms peering skyward to know what they saw.
The powerful gust of air from two eight-foot wings washed over him as his father’s massive form came to light on the perch built for him and his kind.
“Truly you have the soul of a peregrine born.” Rothdin settled on the perfectly sized ledge and stared forward.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Your mate told me you find watching the ocean from a height peaceful when you need to think. What better place to do just that than from our master’s home?”
They sat in silence, and Farrell ignored the crowd building below. He toyed with the idea of hiding them from view but decided such a move would only cause a greater commotion.
“The task is mine, Father.”
“It is, but the Six did not give this to you to do alone.”
Rothdin kept his gaze toward the sea. Farrell expected him to say more, but his father kept silent. When he thought the silence lingered too long, Farrell spoke.
“I agree, but since the responsibility is mine, I decide how best to carry it out.”
“So you believe you are separate and apart from the others who labor on behalf of the Six?” Rothdin’s tone was patient, as if addressing a child.
“Of course not, but neither do I answer to anyone but Honorus and His siblings.”
Rothdin finally turned and for an instant, Farrell thought he saw disapproval in his father’s dark irises. “There is room in the sky for both listening to opinions and making your own decision.”
The criticism stung. If it had come from anyone other than Rothdin, Farrell probably would have lashed out without collecting his thoughts.
“I agree with you, Father, but that isn’t what happened. Even you told me you had some say—not an opinion or advice, but a say—in my decision. Even the sky is not big enough for two kings.”
Instead of his father’s features bristling in anger as he expected, Farrell watched them go flat. Rothdin slowly nodded. “Your mate said much the same after you left. We who have answered the call are as invested in your success as the Six. We sometimes forget we are here to advise, not give o
rders. Know that we act out of love because we care about you, not because we want to order you about.”
“Father, I know you care. You risked your life to save me.” Despite their obvious differences, Farrell had begun to see Rothdin as his father. He swallowed against the lump that had developed in his throat. “And it is not that I do not want advice, but I can’t—won’t—accept being told what I’m going to do next or that others have decided they are accompanying me.”
“And in that, I apologize.” Rothdin stretched out his wing, wrapped it around Farrell, and drew him closer. Farrell felt the other wing come around and envelop him as well. “This is how a peregrine speaks to its young. Though you are grown according to your people and have done things only a grown man might do, you are still young to me.”
The feathers tickled and had a faint musky smell, but the move had a calming effect on Farrell.
“Nerti pointed out that I cannot view you as I do your brothers. Though you are still a fledging in my eyes, your maturity far eclipses Grohl and Takala. If you will return to the aerie, I promise that Nerti, Klissmor, Miceral, and I will present a united front on your behalf and respect any decision you make.”
“Will Nerti accept it if Miceral and I decide to go on alone?” He hadn’t decided what to do, let alone that, but the answer would prove telling.
Rothdin’s thoughts conveyed his amusement. “Though such a scenario did not arise, our decision was to support you in whatever choice you made. I suspect the idea that you would go without her hasn’t crossed her mind and should you decide that, it would test her resolve, but you will have my support if that is your final word.”
“I haven’t decided anything yet, but my hope is to use a temple Door to go to Agloth, find what Kel left, and come back.” Even he didn’t expect things to be that simple, but he decided to try the easy way first.
Rothdin unfolded his wings. “I shall do my best to ask Holy Honorus to aid your task.” He sounded as skeptical as Farrell felt.
The Eye and the Arm Page 30