“From the way this one gushes about you, I had no idea what to expect.” Baylec slapped Miceral on the shoulder. “But I’m glad to see you have a good attitude toward weapons practice. A sword respects no rank. The person best qualified to train is entitled to the highest respect on the grounds.”
Farrell managed a nod of agreement before Miceral spoke. “Baylec is a master in the art of fighting with a staff. A skill I never mastered very well.”
“Nor ever really tried, lad, don’t leave that part out.” A wry grin from his one-time student set Baylec laughing.
“Master Baylec has agreed to train you in staff fighting. He, Thomas, and I discussed the fact that you’re more likely to fight with your staff than a sword.”
Oh.
His face must have registered complete disappointment, as Baylec laughed almost immediately. “I can see your friend likes the idea as much as you did.”
Baylec walked over, put a hand on Farrell’s shoulder, and slowly guided him off to an empty space on the field. “Don’t get that way, lad. I hear from Master Thomas that you’re a fine swordsman but your skill will only be tested on these grounds. Never made much sense to me to teach a wizard to use a sword when they always carried staffs.”
Farrell smiled. Put like that, staff training didn’t sound like such a bad idea. “I’ve been saying that for years. Nice to know someone sees the logic in not wearing me out with sword training.”
“Don’t get too comfortable.” Baylec’s snicker deflated Farrell’s good mood. “I promise you, this training will be every bit as hard as any Master Thomas put you through. From my discussions with Miceral, it sounds like it would be best to build on some of your private training. Soon enough that staff of yours is going to be more feared than any sword.”
Learning to fight with his staff meant one fewer thing to carry.
“How flexible are you in your training?”
Baylec squinted. “What do you mean?”
“If what you say is true, I want to be able to incorporate combat magic into your lessons.”
For an instant, Baylec’s eyes focused on the ground. Blinking, he shook his head. “Not sure if we can or can’t, but we can certainly discuss it as we progress.”
Smiling, Farrell held out his hand. “With that agreement, I accept your offer to train me.”
The two clasped forearms, smiling like children. “Miceral says you’re familiar with your staff. Show me how you move it.”
Self-conscious at being put on the spot to perform, Farrell tentatively twirled the staff in his right hand. Next, he switched hands, then delivered an overhead chop with both.
Baylec stood silent and motionless. Farrell’s face verged on a frown. Had he done something wrong?
“Not bad,” Baylec finally said, nodding his approval. “Certainly lets me skip to more than a few basic exercises. Some of your moves are visually pleasing but useless in combat, unless they serve some magical purpose.”
“Some of the two-handed twirling is useful if I want to spray balls of energy against an opponent, but for the most part what I did was what I do with my staff when I’m bored.” He shrugged, trying not to sound too stupid.
“Interesting.” Baylec nodded, his eyes now focused on the wall behind Farrell. “Is that an example of what you mean by incorporating magic into our training?”
“One of them, yes.” The others could wait until after they’d had a few lessons.
“We’ll see what we can do.” He turned, walked off, and came back with two practice staves. “I know you like your own, but I’d like to start with these. Once we’ve covered the basics, you can use yours.”
Without waiting for agreement, Baylec began instructing, pointing out differences between moves designed for combat and those for show. They hadn’t progressed beyond the basics when Farrell’s reminder spell alerted him with a shrill ringing.
He bowed to his new weapons master. “My apologies, Master Baylec, but I need to end our session. Nerti is waiting. I promised her unfettered access to Gharaha if she’d help me with a spell I’m working on. This was the hour we set.”
Baylec gave him a throaty laugh. “I do so enjoy my uncomplicated life. Not to pressure you, but you’re already good with a staff. Though it’s not flashy, I think you can see the advantages of continuing this training for someone with your talents. Just think about it.”
Baylec bowed and moved off to work with other trainees. Farrell took a moment to say goodbye to Miceral before he opened a Door and left.
He didn’t bother changing, though he probably should have. Instead he went straight to the prearranged meeting place. Nerti waited for him, giving him a wink when he arrived. He redirected the Door, and they exited almost at the eastern edge of the plains. Nerti wanted to run first, so Farrell used the time to fill her in on his new training.
“Baylec is an accomplished weapons master who has trained countless warriors. You’d be wise to give serious thought to his advice on what weapon best suits you.”
Nerti’s smooth gait belied her speed. Farrell’s hair whipping about his face told him they moved faster than it seemed. “I don’t need to think about it. I already know it’s the right thing to do. Other than not training with Miceral, I’m really excited by the change.”
He leaned forward and Nerti stretched out her stride, running even faster. Through their link, he had the impression she enjoyed the run. When they reached the designated spot, he regretted not riding with her more often.
Unfastening his staff from his back, he tapped into the closest Source for energy. Still seated on Nerti’s back, he wove the metal end of his staff over the ground, imprinting the magic where he needed it. Slow and deliberate, the work required his total concentration. Nerti’s presence helped focus him, allowing him to work quicker than usual.
When he had finished, he was about to suggest they take one last run when Nerti interrupted his thoughts. “Miceral asks when you will be back. Horgon told him of your dinner plans.”
“The Six forgive me! I forgot to tell Ral about dinner. Does he sound mad?”
Nerti’s presence in his mind disappeared for a moment. “He said he is pleased you told his father to come but wants to know when to expect you.”
“We’re done here. I accomplished my goal for today and more. If you’d let him know how soon you think we’ll be back to the gate, tell Ral I need about half an hour more to get ready.” His thoughts raced in several directions. “Oh, and ask him if he can request food for three from the kitchen as well. Please?”
Nerti ran toward the gate, her white coat a vivid contrast to the plains in the rapidly waning light. Farrell used the time to practice what Baylec had taught him, trying to see how well he could move the staff while riding.
He opened a small Door to the western side of Haven just before they reached the mountainside. They arrived near the unicorn quarters, where Klissmor waited patiently for his mate. Farrell hopped down, kissed Nerti below her horn—something he had learned she liked—and redirected the Door to his rooms.
Exiting inside the foyer, he waved his hand absently to close the portal. “I’m home.”
He went straight to the bath chamber. The full tub reminded him he needed to key Miceral to the spell that would allow him to empty it himself. He quickly emptied it, turned on the taps, and started to undress.
The first tug on the leather vest made his nose wrinkle. Waving both hands, Farrell made the vest disappear, leaving behind an equally smelly shirt. “Got to put a new spell on that.”
Laughter erupted behind him, and he found Miceral propped against the doorframe. “When did you become so put off by your training vest?”
“I think whatever Erstad did to enhance the protections meddled with the odor control.” He peeled the offensive-smelling shirt from his torso, and it vanished with a flash before it hit the ground. “In case you didn’t notice, leather doesn’t smell so great after I’ve been sweating in it.”
Miceral w
aved a hand under his nose. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Sneering playfully, Farrell sat on the edge of the tub and tugged off his boots. “Shouldn’t you be pestering me to hurry up instead of helping me waste time?”
“There’s no rush. Father won’t be here for another half an hour.” Farrell stared at Miceral, certain they had less time than that. Miceral smiled, motioning for him to get in the now-full tub. “I added a few minutes to your estimate to give you some breathing room.”
Farrell slid into the hot bath, happy to take a moment to relax. He dunked his head under the water and found a smiling Miceral inches from his face when he flipped his hair back.
“I think I deserve at least a kiss for being so wise,” Miceral said playfully, before he kissed Farrell’s wet face.
“Please don’t get me going.” He grabbed the soap and attacked his body with a vengeance. “We don’t have time for frisky tub antics. Save it for when your father isn’t coming.”
“Sometimes a little spontaneity would be good,” Miceral said, while Farrell washed his face. Farrell rinsed the soap from his eyes and saw his lover leaning over to collect his fallen staff. He waited until Miceral had the rod firmly in his hand, then used his link to bring it and Miceral to the edge of the tub. Farrell completed the deed by pulling his off-balanced companion into the bath with him before kissing him deeply.
Miceral sputtered at first before letting himself enjoy the moment. The two rolled about, water going everywhere until Miceral stepped out of the tub, soaking wet. With no choice but to change, Miceral removed his clothing and climbed back into the still-agitated water. Despite the impending arrival of Horgon, they continued their playful exchange until they ran out of time.
All of Haven had already learned of Horgon’s proclivity for being early. With a few minutes to spare, the two raced about, laughing as they rushed to dry off. After dashing naked into the bedroom, they both managed to dress before Horgon arrived.
Miceral answered the door as Farrell went to clean up the soaked bath chamber. A wave of his hand returned the water on the floor to the tub. Next, he gathered his staff and the wet clothing and passed the black wood over the sopping garments. Once they were dry, he emptied the tub and sent the clothes to his closet to be sorted out after Horgon left.
Running his hand through his still-damp hair, he took a deep breath and made his way to the formal sitting room. Horgon stood beside his son, a glass of wine in hand. Farrell smiled at seeing them together. So much had changed since the day the three met.
“Horgon, sorry to keep you. It took me a bit longer than expected to get ready.” He ignored Miceral to keep from blushing.
“From what Miceral tells me, you had a busy afternoon. Baylec’s not known as an easy instructor.” Horgon plucked a third glass from the table and handed it to Farrell. “He and I were boys together much longer ago than I care to admit. Among our people, his skills were legendary until his star pupil eclipsed him.”
Miceral suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Father, we really don’t need to go into this in front of Farrell. I’m sure he’s already suitably impressed with me as it is.”
“It’s true, Horgon, Miceral’s very impressive, especially wet.” He cocked an eyebrow at Miceral, and the two burst into laughter. Horgon joined them, even if he didn’t understand the joke.
Fortunately, the food arrived before he could ask. Farrell conjured a table, and the pages quickly set up for dinner. They set the cart on the side and left with a bow.
Dinner turned out differently from what Farrell expected. Horgon never talked about governing Haven. Instead, he regaled them with tales of the mischief he and Baylec had gotten into as youths. Miceral made a smart comment about his father’s antics and soon found himself the new subject of conversation. For the next several minutes, Horgon related several not-so-flattering tales of Miceral the boy. Miceral accepted the punishment, even filling in details where his father missed them. Amid the laughter and Miceral shouting not to tell this tale or that, the three managed to eat most of the food and drink three bottles of wine.
“This was unfair of me. I told you all Miceral’s most embarrassing moments, and we have none to embarrass you with.” Horgon’s comment changed Farrell’s mood instantly. Horgon’s smile lasted a moment longer. Then he fell silent as Farrell stared beyond the other two.
“My childhood holds no tales of childish antics or fond camaraderie.” Farrell’s voice bordered on cracking, but he didn’t pause to let the others stop him. “After Meglar was driven from Yardel, my mother sent me to Haven. I was two years old at the time. Mother stayed in Yar-del in a doomed attempt to repair the damage my father caused. Not only did Meglar steal Yar-del’s energy, his actions caused my grandfather’s health to decline. The damage to the Source echoed back on Grandfather. Mother became queen not long after I left.
“I mostly grew up here. Trying to hide in various unoccupied areas was the closest thing I had to high antics. It didn’t take long for even a headstrong youngster like me to realize no one successfully hid from Heminaltose in Haven.”
He chuckled at the image of his master using seeking spells to find his wayward student. Neither Miceral nor his father attempted to stop him, so he continued.
“At the age of seven, I began my training in earnest. Prior to that time, I learned the basic things any young ruler might be taught: reading, math, history, and science. Somewhere in this complex is a room I sealed off years ago. It contains many of the things I had as a youth: my first staffs, small enough for a child; old schoolbooks; pint-sized equipment for spell casting; and all the other things a child wizard needed. No toys, no children’s books, none of that. Heminaltose didn’t have time for a child or child’s fun. I sealed it shortly after he died.
“Since I’d been sent here to hide from my father, no one told me Queen Zenora was my mother for years. They needed to make sure I understood the importance of keeping it a secret before they told me. Evidently, when Heminaltose took me from Yar-del, I screamed and cried for my mother in front of the household staff. Mother cried for days over the separation. Rumors circulated that Bren ordered the death of Meglar’s spawn and had Heminaltose carry it out. They changed my name from Halloran to Farrell and didn’t tell me until they deemed me ready to know the truth.”
The flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but he refused to give in. Nothing could change the past. Why waste the energy on tears?
“I first visited Yar-del when I was twelve. I didn’t learn the truth of my birth until we returned to Haven. Heminaltose waited until after I had a chance to meet my mother before telling me. He said I needed time to process the information before I could see her again. If I suffered, Mother suffered worse. She couldn’t acknowledge me even in private until everyone felt I could be trusted. She and I had so little time together in the end.
“The rest is well-recorded. She and Heminaltose died on the walls of Yar-del when I was seventeen. I returned here with the remains of Yar-del’s royal house and Heminaltose’s personal effects. Sanduval met me when I arrived, and we continued my training. My childhood, such as it was, contained no funny stories, no happy memories. Only a sense of duty and a sense of loss.” Farrell stood up as tears refused to stay back. He turned away so they couldn’t see him cry.
Horgon stood up and went over to him. “Farrell, I’m sorry, more sorry than I can say. I was cruel to you and Miceral at first, because I couldn’t accept that what Lenore had chosen for my son was not what I wanted. Despite that, you gave me a position of trust so that I could still work to protect my people. You’re a better man than I.”
Horgon placed both hands on Farrell’s shoulders and gently turned him around until they were facing each other. “I know my blessing doesn’t matter when Lenore and Honorus have already given you Theirs, but for what it’s worth, you both have my approval. I can’t imagine anyone else for my son than you.”
Farrell collapsed, sobbing, into Horgon’s arms. Horgon pulled
him tight, letting him cry against his tunic. “The path that brought you to today has been hard. When Miceral’s mother died, I felt in a small part how you must have felt. She was loving, caring, smart, and beautiful. It was hard for Miceral and me, but we had each other and found a way to move past the pain. We are your family now. Let us help you move past your hurt.”
When he finally gained control of his emotions, Farrell wiped his nose on his sleeve and stepped back. “Horgon, I’m sorry I acted this way in front of you. It’s unbecoming, and I have no explanation. Please accept my apology.”
“Farrell, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.” Horgon retrieved a napkin and gave it to him. “It was long overdue for you to let it out. I meant what I said about being part of the family. Family is there in times of grief. What happened tonight will remain between us.”
Miceral moved to Farrell’s side and pulled him closer. When he felt a kiss on his cheek, Farrell smiled. “Can I kill a festive time, or what?”
“Father’s right.” Miceral used a thumb to wipe a tear from Farrell’s cheek. “For good or bad, we’re your family now. It’s been a long day. How about you go lie down?”
Miceral tried to guide him toward the bedroom, but Farrell stopped them before they could exit.
“Thank you, Horgon. What you said and did means more than I can put into words. Being a son of yours would be my honor.” This time he let Miceral take him to their bedchamber. He removed his boots, then flopped on the bed and turned away.
Miceral slipped behind him and kissed the back of his head. “Rest here while I see Father out.”
Farrell nodded but felt alone when Miceral shut the door behind him. Making his way into the bath chamber, he heard Miceral and Horgon speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He quickly cleaned his teeth, undressed, and slid under the covers.
Stuck in that half-awake, half-asleep state, he felt Miceral climb in bed next to him. Without thinking, he snuggled closer, and a strong arm wrapped around him in response. Miceral said something he didn’t catch. It didn’t matter. He knew Miceral loved him. What more did he need to know?
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