Over his shoulder, he saw Klissmor’s head bob as he sought to match her speed. Their race brought them to the gate well ahead of the Honalese riders.
“Nice entrance, lad.” Wesfazial smirked. “We had the unicorns and peregrines remain inside to keep them secret, but there’s no helping them seeing you four.”
“What in Honorus’s name are they doing here?” Farrell made to dismount, but Nerti stopped him.
“As Prince of Haven, you must meet them mounted.”
He looked over to Miceral, who nodded his agreement.
“Not really sure.” Wesfazial’s voice drew his attention. “We received a message from Cylinda that King Christian wanted to send a delegation to speak with you. We came out to greet them. Erstad is in the hills above us monitoring things, just to be sure everything is as it appears.”
“We passed nothing on our way home.” With Cylinda involved, Farrell didn’t suspect treachery. Still, it never hurt to be cautious. Straightening his tunic, he turned his attention back to the Honalese. “They’ll be here soon enough. We’ll get our answers then.”
Nerti turned to face the approaching riders with Klissmor a pace behind her to the right. Wesfazial seemed content to stand with the soldiers. Farrell drew his staff and laid it across his lap.
“Show-off,” he heard the elder wizard mumble.
“Never hurts to let them know who and what I am,” Farrell said without looking back. To Miceral, he sent, “Move up beside me.”
“No, you rule here, not I. Your position must be clear.” Before he broke the link, he added, “I love you, my little wizard prince.”
It took all his will not to turn to Miceral and almost as much to keep a big grin from splitting his face. Maintaining his stoic appearance, Farrell readied a defensive spell despite Erstad’s presence above.
The riders slowed and came to a stop a few paces from Farrell. Nerti moved two steps closer.
“Greetings, riders of Honal. What brings you to Haven?” Farrell scanned the group and locked on a dark-haired man in the center. The air of authority and the way the others looked to him told Farrell this one led the delegation. When the man nudged his tired mount closer, Farrell smiled.
“On behalf of King Christian of Honal, I bring greetings to the people of Haven.” He bowed his head just enough to show respect but not enough to indicate that he thought Farrell outranked him. “I am Baron Glaus, and I bear a message for the Wizard Prince Farrell.”
“I am Grand Master Farrell.” Farrell kept his gaze locked on Glaus, daring the man to challenge him.
Glaus looked puzzled, glancing at Wesfazial before he bowed a second time, much lower. “Hail, Lord Farrell of Haven. Forgive me. I didn’t expect you would arrive from behind us.”
Farrell laughed. That might be one reason for Glaus’s confusion, but he knew the real one. “And you were expecting someone older, like my mentor Master Wesfazial.”
Glaus gave him a small smile but otherwise kept his composure. “That too, m’lord.”
Acknowledging the concession, Farrell nodded slightly. “This is no place to greet guests or discuss matters of importance.” He looked back to Wesfazial, who stepped forward. “Master Wesfazial will escort you into Haven. But before we part, allow me to introduce Queen Nerti and Klissmor, her mate.”
Nerti and Klissmor bowed their heads to the baron. His eyes widened as he realized the implications of what he heard. Bowing deeply, he held it long enough to satisfy protocol.
“Your Majesty, it is an honor beyond words.”
“We are pleased to meet you, Baron.” Nerti nodded again, clearly dismissing the man. Though she rarely invoked her title, when she did, Farrell felt small and inadequate by comparison.
“Fret not, little one. I’ve had millennia to perfect my appearance.”
“With that, Baron”—Farrell bowed politely—“we must make ourselves ready for your visit.”
Wesfazial and the soldiers stepped forward before Glaus could answer. Nerti moved left, and, once clear of the crowd, Farrell opened a Door. The flash of light brought a gasp from several of the Honalese soldiers.
“Showing off?” Miceral sounded amused.
“Glaus questioned my authority, even if unintentionally. That small display should show I am what I say.”
On the way to their rooms, Farrell managed to tell a soldier to send a page to their apartment immediately. He filled the tub as he undressed, hoping Wesfazial would allow Glaus a moment to clean up and rest before bringing him to Farrell’s rooms. After washing quickly, he was pulling on suitable pants when he heard a knock on the door.
“Miceral?” He finished buttoning his pants and passed the bath chamber on his way to the door. “The page is here. Anything special I should ask for?”
“Nothing beyond the usual.”
Running his hand through his still-wet hair, he opened the door and froze. Horgon stood with Wesfazial, Erstad, Glaus, and someone Farrell didn’t recognize. Horgon threw him a sympathetic look while his mentors glared at him. Silently, he stepped back, allowing his guests to enter.
Horgon nodded for him to go, taking charge of things. “Wesfazial, didn’t I tell you they weren’t expecting us to come directly to their chambers? I believe you owe me a bottle of wine.”
“Figured the boy would have more sense than to come half-naked to the door,” the wizard grumbled.
“Go finish getting cleaned up.” Horgon nudged him toward the bedroom. “I’ll take our guests to the sitting room.”
Farrell took two steps and then spun around. “Horgon.” When he turned, Farrell motioned him closer. “I never got to order food and drink.”
“Ah, sorry.” Horgon cringed. “I intercepted the page and sent him back with orders for what to bring.”
Nodding, Farrell shut the door behind him. He scowled when he saw Miceral wrapped in a towel, smiling.
“Not the page, was it?” Miceral laughed.
“Be quiet or I’ll remove your clothes as soon as you enter the sitting room.” Staring, Farrell couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Or at least I’d think of doing it.”
“Sorry, but look at the goblet as half full—you weren’t still in a towel.” Miceral yanked his off for emphasis, nearly ripping it in the process. Laughing, Farrell pulled on a light tan silk tunic before searching for his boots.
“Staff or no staff?”
Miceral emerged from his closet holding a pale blue shirt. “Did Erstad or Wesfazial have one?”
“I think Wesfazial did, but he had his out front.” Turning the black staff over in his hand, he shrugged. “No staff. It might seem like I’m compensating for my embarrassing entrance.”
Miceral walked over, tunic still in hand. The amulet stuck to his skin at an odd angle. “Be yourself. You don’t need to impress anyone.” He kissed Farrell on the cheek and pulled his shirt over his head. “Let me get my boots and we can go.”
Miceral insisted Farrell lead the way, refusing to even hold his hand. Everyone sat as two pages set out food and drink. Farrell stood in the doorway and used the moment to look at the man seated next to Baron Glaus. Dressed in the scarlet livery of Honal, he appeared about Farrell’s age. Although Glaus did the talking, he deferred to the younger man. A moment later, the man nudged the baron and pointed toward Farrell and Miceral.
“Baron Glaus, sorry to keep you waiting.” Farrell moved into the room, heading for the couch across from their guests. “My apologies for greeting you as I did. You were… um… unexpectedly quick.”
“There was a lively debate among your advisors whether we should wait or not.” Glaus smiled, looking toward Horgon. “It appears your first minister was correct.”
Farrell laughed. “My first minister is Miceral’s father.” He then realized they didn’t know who Miceral was. Feeling the blood rush to his face, he glanced at Miceral, who didn’t seem upset. “My apologies again. I didn’t get a chance to introduce Miceral….” He didn’t know how to announce him, since th
e issue had never come up before. “My life partner to be.”
The baron bowed politely. From the corner of his eye, he saw Horgon raise an eyebrow.
“Prince Farrell.” Glaus stood and turned to his companion. “May I present my cousin, Prince Kerstand of Honal.”
The younger man stood, his expression hard to read. To Farrell the prince seemed anxious and unhappy. Glaus whispered something from the side of his mouth, and Kerstand bowed respectfully.
“Prince Kerstand.” Farrell inclined his head. “An honor to meet you.”
“Thank you, Lord Farrell. The honor is mine. Cylinda spoke much of you.” A mischievous grin played on his face for a brief instant. “Like my cousin, I expected you to be much older.”
Farrell decided he liked Kerstand. He lacked the stiff demeanor of so many nobles. “Looks can be deceptive, Prince Kerstand. Miceral is more than a hundred years older than I. I’ll leave it for you to guess his true age.”
The small frown left Glaus’s face when Farrell winked at the prince. A page brought out a tray of drinks and served their guests first. When everyone had settled, he nodded for the two servants to leave.
“So, Baron, what brings you to Haven?” Farrell peered over his cup. Horgon would not have brought them directly from the gate unless the baron had asked. He saw no reason for small talk.
Erstad’s eyes narrowed, drawing a glare from Farrell. Everyone had interrupted his day—his special day—without notice. He didn’t need to apologize for wanting them gone.
The baron gave him a smile and a nod. Hopefully he took the hint. “My thanks, Lord Farrell. I would not have intruded on you like this were it not a matter of great importance to Honal.”
“Please, call me Farrell. Rank has less importance among wizards. Ability and wisdom count more than titles, especially when there are so many princes and sovereigns at Haven.”
Glaus and Kerstand turned to each other, then back to Farrell. Before he could explain, Horgon took up the discussion.
“Many of those at Haven had titles and positions tied to kingdoms Meglar conquered. Rank is still recognized among the various communities, but Haven has its own court, and Farrell is our prince. Some nobles have positions of authority in Haven, some do not. Myself, I led my people before Lenore sent us here. At Haven, I retained that authority over my people, but as a vassal to Prince Farrell. My position as first minister was at his behest, not due to some right. Those who have not accepted this new reality are not part of Haven’s court.”
“It sounds like a wise solution to an otherwise difficult situation. My cousin and I shall remember that while we are here.” He glanced to Prince Kerstand, who gave him a small nod. Glaus seemed put off by the lack of comment but recovered quickly.
“King Christian has sent us to Haven as emissaries from Honal. Since the fall of Endor, his majesty has been tireless in his preparation for Meglar’s inevitable attack. From our agents, we know Pelipan is doing the same.
“We are, however, faced with a simple reality; we lack wizards capable of standing up to Meglar. Our wizards paint a grim picture. Even if Meglar is only as powerful as when he conquered Endor, we cannot defeat him.”
Farrell nodded but otherwise kept his emotions in check. Of course they couldn’t defeat him. Heminaltose had told them that years ago and they ignored him.
“Our people won’t turn and flee. We’ll fight to the end, but my uncle understands that, barring divine intervention, Honal will fall. The wizard, Cylinda, advised us we could find aid at Haven. His majesty sent us to discuss a treaty.” Glaus briefly looked to his cousin, but Kerstand didn’t turn. “In addition, King Christian asks that you allow his son to remain here for his safety and to ensure the survival of the royal line toward that day when Honal can be reclaimed.”
Farrell waited to be certain Glaus had nothing more to add. Miceral’s hand on top of his helped keep his voice steady.
“Prince Kerstand is of course welcome.” Farrell ignored the look Erstad gave him. “Your people are also welcome, should you choose not to fight to the end. Haven was created to preserve the Seven Kingdoms until the circumstances favor us and not Meglar.”
“What circumstances would entice you to confront Meglar?” Kerstand asked. “Join your forces to ours and we might not be forced to flee.”
Staring at the young man, Farrell shook his head slowly. “No.”
Kerstand’s jaw tightened. “Why not? Are you afraid?”
Glaus put a hand on Kerstand’s leg, drawing an angry look. “Forgive my cousin’s tone. The prospect of Honal being conquered is a cause of great distress to all, especially the ruling house.”
Ignoring the baron’s words, Farrell locked eyes with Kerstand. Did he even understand the irony of his words coming from a son of the house of Honal? Feeling the eyes of everyone on him, he took a breath to remain in control.
“Prince Kerstand, I don’t fear Meglar, but I have a healthy respect for his power. We will meet him when and where the Six have decreed.”
“You’re prepared to let Meglar conquer the rest of the Seven Kingdoms while you wait for a sign from the Six?” Kerstand’s voice bordered on disdain. “With your aid, Honal and Pelipan might be strong enough to defeat Meglar. We need your help now. Surely that’s enough of a sign.”
Tuning out the others, Farrell kept his eyes on the prince. “I understand you’re emotional, but don’t speak to me about inaction. What aid did Honal offer Yar-del or Endor? None. Instead, your father sat safely behind his walls and did nothing.”
Kerstand leapt to his feet. “How dare you suggest my father is a coward!”
Standing, Farrell stared him down. “I was there when Queen Zenora asked your father for aid ten years ago. He refused her. Your father sat back, hoping Meglar would be satisfied with Yar-del. No!” He glared at Kerstand, not willing to be silent. “I was there! Heminaltose told your father Meglar wouldn’t stop with Yar-del. Only Clement and Endor stood with Zenora.
“Had your father and the other kings stood with Yar-del and Endor that day, we might have prevailed. Instead, he did nothing, and my master died.”
He fought back the tears raised by his mother’s death, unable to tell them the truth.
“When Meglar turned to Endor, again your father and the other kings turned a deaf ear to Clement’s plea. They reasoned that if Endor had not sided with Yar-del, Meglar wouldn’t have turned on them. Fools. All of them.”
Much as he tried, he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. How dare they question him when they gave nothing themselves?
“Sanduval was the last grand master in the Seven Kingdoms and the last hope to defeat Meglar. Had Christian and the others come to Clement’s aid, Meglar might yet have been vanquished. But instead they stayed safely at home, and Meglar conquered Endor and slew Sanduval.”
Kerstand’s righteous anger seemed gone as he slowly sat down. The sound of people breathing cut the silence.
“Now that I’m the last grand master, I’ll not risk my life until I’m ready. If Honal or Pelipan or both fall, so be it. There is no debt to repay for aid rendered. But lest you think my words are simply anger or bitterness, though I have enough of both in me, know this: I cannot defeat him yet. The Six have devised a plan, and only if I follow it can I be victorious. Without a doubt, their plan does not involve me confronting Meglar at Honal.”
Silence followed as he sat down. Horgon stood up, drawing all eyes to him as he walked over to get some food.
“Perhaps a break?”
Miceral stood up, but Farrell shook his head. Erstad and Wesfazial joined father and son, while the cousins from Honal remained seated.
Looking chastised, Glaus turned his gaze to his host. “Farrell, I hear the pain and sorrow of your loss. Hindsight is a wonderful tool, and with it, we in Honal realize the folly of our response to Meglar’s threat. There is nothing we can do to make amends for our lack of support to Yar-del and Endor. If I thought your decision was driven by spite, I’d a
rgue the ill-conceived decisions of one man, even a king, shouldn’t doom everyone else to death.
“However, Cylinda told my uncle you would not aid him and why. Though she shamed him for his inaction, she also explained you would not deviate from the plan the Six set forth. For that reason, knowing you cannot aid us as we needed, King Christian sends you his son. It is his hope that you will prevail and Honal can be restored.”
“Christian should send all his people, not just his youngest son,” Erstad said, handing Farrell a plate of food. “Eat. I know you won’t later. Both of you as well.”
Glaus smiled at the older man before standing up. Kerstand remained rooted in his seat, staring at the carpet. “Kers, you need to eat.”
Kerstand shrugged, never looking up. The baron left him, only to return a moment later with a plate he almost had to force into the prince’s hands. “If you don’t, I’ll send you back to your father until you listen to me.”
Glaring at his cousin, Kerstand grabbed a wedge of cheese and took a bite. Glaus rolled his eyes but went back to the food.
Farrell had as much interest in eating as Kerstand, but under the watchful eye of his mentors, he did as instructed. When Kerstand lifted his head, Farrell couldn’t hold back a smile. “It would appear, Kerstand, that our authority as princes does not extend to eating.”
Kerstand rewarded his comment with a grin and showed a bit more enthusiasm for his food.
“That’s the truth,” Wesfazial said, taking the seat next to Farrell. “You’d both do well not to forget it, either.”
“Yes, Master Wesfazial.” Out of his mentor’s field of vision, Farrell rolled his eyes, making Kerstand laugh.
“We may take you up on your offer, but our pride is too great to leave without a fight.” He heard Glaus speaking to Horgon and Erstad. “Any aid you can offer will of course be greatly appreciated.”
“Fighting back does have some benefits,” Erstad replied. “Chamdon require energy to create and can only be used once. It takes Meglar years to gather enough slaves to turn into his army. That has given us time to work on what the Six outlined for Farrell.
Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2 Page 18