The king glanced back at his cousin. “I think I can be forgiven for not having sent my congratulations and those of Dumbarten to you both before today.”
Miceral smiled. “Of course, your majesty.”
Markus scanned Miceral. “Are you also a wizard?”
“No, Your Majesty, I am not.”
“He is a Muchari, my lord,” Gedrin said. “Lord Miceral is the son of Horgon, leader of the Muchari.”
“Astounding. You’re well suited for each other. Are you as strong and fast as legends say?”
“That, Your Majesty, would depend on what the legends attribute to my people.” Miceral gave the king a mischievous grin. “We try not to reveal ourselves to the world at large. Such secrecy does permit for quite a bit of artistic license on the part of poets and bards.”
“At least the songs are accurate in one area. You hide among us.” He almost moved on but stopped. “And please, call me Markus. You are joined to my cousin, the rightful king of Yar-del. We are equals—especially here.”
Markus continued to his right, stopped in front of Peter, and raised an eyebrow. “You wear the colors of Belsport. Are you the prince’s envoy?”
Peter bowed deeply. “Prince Peter of Belsport, Your Majesty.”
The playful grin returned to Markus’s face. “Wilhelm’s son, are you? Outstanding. Tell your father Markus sends his regards.”
Farrell only half listened as the king greeted Rothdin, Nerti, and Klissmor. Grand Master Penelope stared at him with an intensity that told Farrell she was trying to assess his power.
“The king’s jovial spirit is not shared by his aunt, Princess Penelope.” He kept his thoughts tight so only Miceral would hear his words. “She has been trying to read my aura since they arrived.”
“Is that a problem?” Miceral inched closer, and Farrell smiled.
“No, and you don’t need to come closer to protect me.” When his partner stopped moving, Farrell reached over and hooked their pinky fingers together. “But I’m happy to have you stand closer just because.”
“And you’ve already met my adopted son, Farrell, whom you call Halloran.” Farrell caught the end of Rothdin’s comment.
“That is no doubt a story worth hearing, my lord.” Markus was enjoying himself. “I look forward to you explaining how you came to adopt my younger cousin.”
Nerti and Klissmor stood waiting for the king to greet them, looking amused as only adults could at the reaction of children when faced with something new and wonderful.
“Blessed are the unicorns of Lenore,” he said. “Though I come to you last, my welcome is just as heartfelt and sincere. Be welcome in Dumbarten.”
Klissmor stepped forward, drawing Markus’s attention. “On behalf of Queen Nerti and myself, I thank you for your words of welcome, King Markus.”
The king gave Klissmor a small nod, then bowed deeply to Nerti. “Your Majesty. Again, I welcome you to Dumbarten.”
“You are a gracious host, Your Majesty.” She inclined her head in a way that would be insulting from anyone else.
The Door behind them opened again, and Emerson emerged with three others—two women and a man who looked like an older copy of the first mate.
“Prince Fergus.” The king accepted the bow from the older man. “I see the wayward son has returned.”
“Aye, Your Majesty. But I’m told he acquitted himself well.” Fergus smiled proudly as he glanced at Emerson.
“I knew it.” Miceral sounded almost triumphant.
“You knew he was a prince of Dumbarten?” Farrell paused when he realized Markus had brought the prince to him.
“Cousin, this is Prince Fergus of Oglithan. I know you’ve met his son.”
“Your Highness.” Farrell bowed politely, raising an eyebrow from the prince. “Your son was a great help on our trip.”
Fergus’s frown never wavered. “Cousin of the king, yet I know of no royal cousin named Farrell.”
“All will be explained in due time, Fergus, but suffice it to say it is you who should bow, not Farrell.”
The exchange reminded him of something he’d meant to ask Nerti and Rothdin. “Do they all know my true name?”
“Members of the Order are all sworn in the name of Honorus to secrecy,” Rothdin said. “Father Gedrin told the king and his aunt. The others will learn today.”
As Markus made the introductions, Farrell linked the rest of his fingers with Miceral’s and nodded toward Grand Master Penelope. “I want to speak to the princess.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the king?”
“I don’t want to. You know how long it will take for Fergus to fawn over Nerti and Rothdin.”
He tugged gently and Miceral moved with him.
“Grand Master Penelope, an honor to meet you. My mother spoke highly of you.” Since he approached her as a grand master and not a prince, he didn’t bow.
“Greetings, Master Farrell.” She glanced at him again. “Or is it grand master?”
Farrell laughed and revealed his true aura. “My apologies, Princess. Hiding my true power is second nature.”
“Oh.” The word snuck through her tight control. “My apologies, Grand Master Farrell.”
He checked to see where the king and high priest stood and then leaned in a bit closer. “Can we dispense with all the titles and just have you call me Farrell?”
The woman next to Penelope snorted, and Farrell caught the end of her eye roll. “Now there is no doubt he’s Markus’s cousin. At least they should get along well.”
“Farrell, my apologies.” Penelope gestured toward the woman. “My life partner, the Lady Marisa.”
Marisa bowed politely, and both Farrell and Miceral mirrored her action. “This is my life partner, Lord Miceral.”
“Lord? You never use my title.”
“In the scheme of things, by any measure, I outrank Penelope and you outrank Marisa. If they want to use a title, well then, let’s be sure you get the proper respect.”
“Did I hear correctly?” Marisa said. “You are a Muchari and a prince?”
“We don’t use titles among my people.” Miceral glanced at Farrell. “My father is the leader of our people, so I guess in human terms, I’m the crown prince.”
“I’m not sure what the protocol is, but I’d like you to meet Nerti and Rothdin,” Farrell said.
Penelope turned to Marisa. “At least the boy has better manners than my nephew.”
As Marisa chuckled, Penelope motioned toward the unicorns and peregrine. “Be nice, dear. There’s a lot going on today.”
Farrell made the introductions and watched as everyone fawned over Nerti, Klissmor, and Rothdin. Having done the same when he first met them, he tried not to smirk.
“You were never this fawning.” Nerti’s voice appeared in his mind. “As I recall you were disrespectful, bordering on rude, when I first appeared.”
“Me? You snapped at me for asking legitimate questions. How was . . .? Nerti’s eyes twinkled and Farrell frowned. “I . . . You . . . Fine.” Nerti’s mental laugh made him smile. Her playful side only came out for people she cared about. He liked feeling her attention.
“Of course I care. You were silly like a young foal at the time, but you are an honorable man, even by unicorn standards.” She moved away from the others and nuzzled him. “I, too, would have been deeply saddened if you left us. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Farrell’s nose tingled, and he struggled not to tear up. “I won’t.”
“All who are coming are here.” Gedrin’s voice commanded their attention. “Please seal the room.”
Marisa walked to the Door they’d used, and Emerson shut the other. Power flared once both doors clicked shut, power he’d not noticed during his scan.
“Everyone please be se—comfortable.” Markus changed his word when he looked at the three nonhumans. “Father Gedrin and I call this council to order.”
“Seek my council and ask to see the room I left behind.” Farrell’s ch
est seized.
Gedrin looked at him. “Excuse me, Chosen?”
“It was a quote in Kel’s book. ‘Seek my council and ask to see the room I left behind.’ At the time I assumed Kel misspelled counsel. That passage was part of why I believe he’s still alive. Now—”
“Ah.” The priest nodded. “The fact he meant this group and not his advice does not make it any less likely he’s alive.”
“True.” He didn’t feel as confident as he sounded.
Markus cleared his throat and stared at the priest. “Shall we begin?”
“I thought the Order was headed by the crown?” Farrell looked at Markus, who nodded and glanced at Gedrin.
“The year Yar-del fell, Honorus sent me a dream that made clear his desire for the Order to come under the joint direction of His temple and the crown.” Gedrin kept his gaze on the guests. “His majesty’s father was king then, and he had the same dream.”
“My father believed the change was made in anticipation of your arrival.”
“And now I’m here.” Conscious that he’d become the center of attention, Farrell tried to laugh off his comment. “I assume you won’t just hand me whatever it was Kel left behind.”
“That is correct.” Markus smiled. “Even were we of a mind to make it easy for you, we have nothing to give you.”
“Right. Whatever he left, it’s hidden in that room.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “The one that won’t let anyone inside.”
“I’ve not told him the content of Kel’s message.” Gedrin pulled a scroll from his sleeve. “I thought Your Majesty would like to do the honors.”
The king stared at the paper for a moment before accepting. “It didn’t appear?”
“It did not, Your Majesty.” The smirk on Gedrin’s face was hidden from the king, but it was conveyed in the tone of his voice.
Markus’s lips twitched, but he kept a neutral expression. “Can I assume he told you that Kel left a message?”
“He did, cousin.”
“Well, then, here’s what he said.” He unrolled the paper and held it lengthwise between his hands. “When the darkness returns, my successor will come seeking aid. It is my hope this council will have followed its mission and be able to provide knowledge and wisdom. But since I cannot rely on the competence of others, I leave behind aid of my own. Only my successor can enter the room over there and claim what she or he may find. To my successor I leave one last bit of advice. Let the eye direct where you use the arm. If Honorus is generous, I will be here to help you in your task. If not, I wish you the blessings of the Six, as you belong to All, not just One.”
“Not much help there.” If anything, Kel’s words confused him even more. Miceral squeezed Farrell’s hand under the table. “I guess I’d best go find out what Kel left me.”
“A moment, please.” Fergus stood. “The Order has been tasked with guarding this room and other valuable information since its founding. What proof do we have that Farrell is an heir of Kel’s, let alone his successor?”
Gedrin turned to the king, who nodded. “King Markus and I are convinced this is Kel’s heir. His true name is Halloran, a name all in this room are familiar with.”
Fergus’s jaw tightened, and Farrell thought he might voice another objection. Instead, one of the women with him stood up.
“Prince Fergus’s question is valid. Members of the Order were selected to work together to confront Neldin should he return, not blindly follow the words of a few. No matter who those few are.” She searched the room and found no support other than Fergus. “For centuries we’ve guarded this room. Why rush to anoint him heir and successor?”
The air shifted as Rothdin rose to his full height. “My adopted son is who he claims. Do you doubt my word?”
“Father.” Farrell stood up. “Her question is valid.”
“No, Chosen, it is not.” Father Gedrin glared at the woman. “Duchess Thermia, the temple and crown are convinced he is Halloran, son of Zenora. None would deny him the right to enter the room.”
She licked her lips and swallowed. “I appreciate you believe his claim, but—”
“He never claimed he was Halloran.” Gedrin’s jaw tightened.
“There is an easy way to resolve this.” Marisa’s voice broke the tension. She stood up and walked to a corner of the room. “Turn over the stone.”
Without waiting for an answer, she picked up the brick-shaped rock and turned it over. In bold blue letters, Halloran’s name glowed.
“Any further questions?” Markus asked as Marisa returned the stone to its original place. “Hearing none, I’ll speak for the council and say Halloran is permitted to try his luck with Kel’s room.”
“And lest any forget, entry into the room does not mean he will come away with anything Kel left inside,” Marisa added. “Other descendants of Kel have been inside the room and found nothing before they were pushed out. If Halloran finds something, it will be clear he is Kel’s successor.”
“All this way for an empty room?” Miceral asked.
“The room won’t be empty.” Farrell didn’t want to appear too confident, but he knew this had been meant for him. “Kel left me something inside.”
The king appeared at Farrell’s side. Together they walked the few feet to the door. To Farrell’s inner eye, the door held no powerful spell, no hidden magic. It was just a stone door.
“This is it, cousin. I hope you find more inside than any before you.” Markus pulled the handle and stepped back as the door swung open.
Chapter Twenty-One
AT FIRST glance, Farrell saw nothing, but it felt familiar. Correction, it had a familiar feel. When he closed the door, power surged in his direction. Rather than summon a ball of light, Farrell turned his shields iridescent as he increased the strength.
Nothing new showed up now that he was inside. The circular room was empty. Shifting to wizard’s sight, he saw signs of massive stored power everywhere. Spells woven into the floor and walls crisscrossed, leaving a near blinding landscape. His awe at such a massive effort was tempered by fear of what the spells were meant to do.
In the center of the room, a smooth white marble stone broke up the otherwise uniform dark gray rock. Cautiously he walked toward the oddity, certain it had some significance. As he moved closer, the stone began to glow brighter. The light distracted him and he stopped walking.
Nothing was ever as it seemed with Kel. Despite its prominence, the stone might not be the prize he sought. He swallowed a moment of panic when he realized he’d probably walked into the trap Kel had set.
Blocking out everything else, he studied the spells around him and then ignored them. Kel meant for him to find these. Somewhere in the room, Kel had laid spells he didn’t want anyone to find until it was too late. If he could find those, he might be able to counter them before they defeated him.
Sifting through the spells near the surface took time and effort. It also took discipline not to move until he made certain he could do so safely. Using every trick at his command, he didn’t find anything that constituted a serious threat. He stopped his search and considered what he knew. Only Kel’s successor could enter. His continued presence suggested that, much as he suspected, Farrell bore that title. Kel also hid something in this room. Something he thought Farrell could use in the fight against Neldin. Last, the spells meant to keep everyone else out had not been activated.
Since he was allowed to remain, he needed to search for whatever Kel had left him. Kel’s words were “whatever he or she may find.” He took those words to mean he might find some, all, or none of what Kel stashed inside this room. So far he’d found none.
Minutes passed, but he kept at his task. Pushing past a set of tightly packed spells, he found it. Hidden, powerful, and bordering on dark magic, the spell flared to life the moment his mind touched it.
“Neldin’s balls, Kel! Are you trying to kill me?” His scream echoed around the empty room. Instantly, powerful magic struck his shield o
n all sides. Miceral, Rothdin, and Nerti screamed into his mind, but he ignored them to focus on the new threat.
Make that threats. It took him a second, but he soon discovered two different spells attacked at once. The first assault struck with the force of a sledgehammer, an attack his shields easily repelled. The second spell solidified Farrell’s image of Kel as ruthless and ingenious.
Woven tightly with the first spell, the second almost escaped notice. The attack acted like a leech sucking energy from his shields. The more power he used to maintain the protection, the stronger the drain. As the intensity of the offensive on his shield increased steadily, Farrell realized his own energy fueled the attack. If he didn’t find a counter soon, he’d be defenseless before he could escape.
Moving to the center of the room, Farrell extended the shield under his feet as a precaution. Instead of drawing his shields closer to conserve his power, he extended them. Despite the added drain on his power, he took a gamble that his energy would last until he’d completed his plan.
He removed his staff from his back and pulled out a couple of the short Cytus wood staffs he’d infused with power during his time on the Rose. For maximum efficiency, he tucked them inside his tunic so the smooth wood pressed against his skin.
With his shields extended about half the diameter of the room, he created a second layer of defense closer to his body. It wouldn’t last long, but it provided a cushion against the parasitic effects of Kel’s spell.
He used his staff as a stylus and slowly etched his own spell on the floor. Inside the second protective barrier, the energy he directed to his spell reached the desired location. Satisfied Kel’s spell couldn’t siphon off his energy, he increased the pace of his countermeasure. Once Farrell covered the floor inside the inner shield with his spell, he moved away from the center until his inner and outer shields touched.
Farrell ignored the relentless assault and the increasing burden it placed on his defenses and walked a circular route around the area he’d enchanted. As he neared the completion of his work, the level of power directed against him increased noticeably. A quick assessment of his defense satisfied him he’d have time to finish, so he redoubled his efforts until he’d covered the entire floor with his spell.
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