When he filled the last empty space, he stepped back toward the center under the still-growing attack. At this rate, even his shields faced imminent failure. If his counterspell didn’t work, he’d need to find a way out of the room—fast.
Farrell retracted his inner shield until it formed a second skin around him. He diverted as much power as he could spare to this safeguard and tapped his staff three times on the stone floor to activate his countermeasure.
Nothing happened at first, but he didn’t expect there to be an immediate change. Carefully he pulled his outer shield toward him, reinforcing it as it retreated. Once the wall of energy crossed into the space where Farrell had woven his counterspell, the amount of force directed against him leveled off. As the distance between the two shields shrank, the attack abated. By the time the gap could be measured in inches, Kel’s barrage sputtered a few times and then stopped.
Safe inside his sanctuary, he dismissed the outer shield and diverted it to his remaining defenses. Kel’s spells were, however, still active outside the area of his counterspell. He’d need to deal with them later, when he wanted to leave.
Using the reprieve, he examined the center stone. Although it continued to radiate light, it defied all attempts to examine it with his wizard’s sight. Cautiously he bent down to look closer. He extended his hand and heat radiated from the area. Nothing happened, so he touched the warm stone with his palm.
Maintaining his position, he pushed outward with his will. The stone sank gently into the floor, making a grating sound as it fell.
Farrell jumped up, on guard for a new attack as he watched the white marble disappear. He recreated a shield beneath his feet and waited. Long moments passed, but the room remained silent and calm. He slowly let out his breath. Before he could squat down again to examine the area, power surged against the shield under his feet.
He watched the energy flare twice before he recognized the spell. “Stupid,” he whispered to the empty room. He waved the tip of his staff over the empty space and stepped back.
The stone pulsed again, and this time an image of his ancestor appeared from the gap in the floor. The man before him appeared middle-aged, despite being centuries old when he’d cast this spell.
Kel regarded Farrell. When a smile formed on his lips, Farrell almost thought the real Kel stood before him.
“I knew one of my line would be clever enough to survive my test.” The voice caused Farrell to jump despite its light tone. “Hopefully you were not hurt in the attempt.”
Farrell blinked. The exchange felt so real. What stood inches away was not Kel, but how could he have created something that could interact with someone? When the image started to walk forward, Farrell woke from his thoughts.
“Stop!” He shook his head at his stupidity. It was a premade messenger. It couldn’t hear him. “Now I’m talking to myself.”
“Really?” Kel’s likeness tilted his head, his expression almost whimsical. “I thought you addressed me.”
“You can hear me?”
“Of course. I’m standing right here.”
“But . . . you’re not real.” He quickly checked again to be sure. “You’re an illusion.”
“Indeed, but I am capable of interacting with you.”
The complexity of the spell nearly overwhelmed Farrell’s thoughts. When Kel laughed, Farrell stopped trying to think of how to cast the spell. “Don’t be so surprised. Having lived more than two thousand years, I’ve had a lot of time to dream up all manner of useless spells. Many are in the book you’ve already received from Khron’s priest. This particular spell took me decades to perfect. I kept trying to leave for good, but the spell kept dissolving before I could finish casting it. Thankfully Beatrice left me a book with her thoughts on the topic that was a great help. But she was ever the better wizard.”
“Beatrice was better than you?” The debates between his master and mother over who was the better wizard, Beatrice or Kel, had usually ended in a draw.
“Beatrice was a dear friend and a great wizard, but her passion was more academic than practical application. Whereas I had a flair for the dramatic and would put my theories into practice for all to see, she preferred to keep her great works private and act without taking credit.
“But I digress. Tell me why I shouldn’t keep walking.”
Farrell tapped his staff on the ground and illuminated the runes he’d etched onto the floor. “Because if you move beyond the small area around the white stone, my counterspell will very likely void the bindings on your spell.”
Kel glanced at the floor, then at Farrell. “Can you turn it off?”
“Yes.” He almost withdrew his spell, but a thought stopped him. “I’ll do it, but only if you promise to deactivate your spells first.”
“They will not harm you so long as I am here.”
“And if you leave?” Farrell’s question drew a loud chuckle.
“So distrustful.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Kel smiled. “As you wished, the spells are deactivated. You proved yourself powerful enough to handle what I have stowed here. In the future, should you enter the room, it will recognize you. But be warned—only you may enter unharmed. The spells will not permit you to bring anyone else with you.”
Farrell almost questioned the rule but stopped when he had a thought. “And the room can discern between me and another?”
“If you were to bring in another person, he or she had better be very good at defending themselves.”
“History has not done you justice.” Farrell wished the real Kel stood before him and not an illusion. “It will take a few moments to undo my counterspell. Please be patient.”
“Since I am a mere animated image, time has no meaning to me. Take as much time as you need.” He gestured about a quarter of the way around the room from the lone door. “I need to take you over there.”
Farrell moved his staff over a narrow area of the floor. When he’d woven the counterspell, he made it contiguous so it could be more quickly applied. Erasing part of it required a small modification he originally did not have the time to incorporate. Carefully he carved a path through the spell in the direction Kel motioned he was heading.
“Forgive me, ancestor, but I plan to keep most of my spell in place as a protection in case I did not word my request correctly.”
“Delightfully distrustful. I can see you understand the nature of your opponent.”
Farrell ignored the comment to focus on his task. When he completed the narrow walkway, he returned his staff to his back. “If you need me to free more space, please let me know. Hopefully this will prove sufficient.”
Kel inclined his head slightly, causing Farrell to freeze. The angle of his face, the color of his hair and eyes, the way he smiled, how he held his head when he gave Farrell a quizzical look, all reminded the younger man of his deceased grandfather. Even the style of clothing Kel chose mirrored what Bren had worn when he ruled Yar-del.
“You appear uncertain. Is there a question?”
Even though the image wasn’t Kel, Farrell didn’t want to admit to his moment of weakness. “I . . . I don’t know what to do next.”
“Well, that would depend. I will point you where you need to go. The rest is up to you. How should I address you?”
The question took him by surprise. It had been thrown in at the end in such an offhand way, he wondered if Kel was testing him. “My mother named me Halloran, but for my safety I have been called Farrell since I was two years old.”
“Fascinating. If I were really me, I’d want to know the circumstances behind that answer.”
“If you were really you, I’ve no doubt you’d already know them.”
“Well met, my young friend, but you still haven’t told me how I should address you.” Kel’s image seemed so amused by the exchange, Farrell almost forgot he wasn’t real.
“Farrell will be fine. Almost no one calls me Halloran, not even my life partner.” As Kel walked out o
f his spot, Farrell asked, “How should I address you? Your Majesty? Grand Master Kel? Ancestor? Great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather?”
Kel stood inches from Farrell. “You may have left out a few ‘greats.’ Kel will do fine. Titles were one irritant I happily left behind when I abdicated the throne. Or, if you prefer, grandfather is acceptable. Just leave out all the ‘greats,’ if you don’t mind.”
“You remind me of my grandfather, King Bren.” Farrell smiled at the image of Yar-del’s last king. He hadn’t known his grandfather well, but his mother told him what a kind, loving man he’d been. “I barely knew him, but from all I’ve been told, he was a good, honorable man. Since you don’t mind, I will call you grandfather.”
After he said the words, he felt foolish. It wasn’t Kel standing in front of him. Why did it matter how he addressed the image? If—when—he met the real Kel, he’d have to ask him how he wanted to be addressed.
“Grandfather it is.” Kel motioned toward the wall. “Shall we?”
Farrell stared hard at the blank stone. Other than a faint residue of power, he detected nothing. He almost dismissed what he saw as the remains of the energy used to create the room. “Or not,” he whispered.
Ignoring Kel, he examined the spot closer. Pushing out with his senses, he touched an innocuous stone-forming spell, the kind of magic he’d expect to find in a room carved from the bowels of a mountain. When it flared to life, he gasped.
“Lord of the sky.” He smiled and turned toward Kel. “I’ve hidden spells before, but none so powerful as that.”
“Hopefully you are better at it than I. You were not supposed to be able to find it without my aid.” Kel’s eyes danced and his lips curled upward. “Tell me what you see.”
“A matrix of sorts. Layer upon layer of spell lines, overlapping and supporting each other. It’s incredible. You’ve woven the spells in such a way that they naturally hide themselves by confusing any eye that chances upon them. I didn’t think that possible without a concealment spell.”
Farrell’s mind sped back the thousands of miles to Gharaha. If he could find a way to use this technique, he could finish the weapon without the need to cover everything with his tedious and time-consuming masking spell.
“What else do you see?” Kel’s voice snapped him from his daydream.
“Beyond that magic is a shield of great strength, powered from a small object below the floor.” He paused. “There is a small room protected by the spell. There may be objects in the room. I can’t tell. To be certain, I’d need to negate the spells between us.”
Kel raised a bushy, graying eyebrow. “Can you?”
Farrell squinted as he scrutinized his ancestor’s handiwork to be certain he didn’t miss anything. “Yes, I believe I can. Did you want me to . . . you know, do it?”
Kel nodded. “Please. After all, I’m not really here, so I can’t do it myself.”
Farrell suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. If he knew anything, he knew Kel—or the image of Kel, in this case—controlled everything in the room. Ignoring the presence a foot away, he touched the spell with his mind and traced it backward to its point of origin. He whispered a few words, and Kel’s handiwork disappeared without any fanfare. When he turned to see what he should do next, Kel wore a queer expression.
“Something wrong, Grandfather?”
“Wrong? No, nothing is wrong.” Kel appeared deep in thought. “That was unexpected. I’ve never seen it done quite like that before.”
“Oh.” Erstad and Wesfazial often commented on how he did things differently. “It’s an easy enough thing to turn it off.”
“If you say so. Still, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Disappointing Kel—even his image—stung.
Kel smiled and waved a hand. “Of course you didn’t, my dear grandson. Quite the opposite. I meant this to see if you could finesse your way past the shields, much as I designed this room to test your ability to adapt quickly to unexpected attacks. I did not anticipate you could just turn off my spell. Your actions are astounding and fascinating.”
Farrell smiled. Heminaltose had never praised his novel ways of dealing with problems. The mischievous expression returned to Kel’s face. “Care to see what I’ve hidden in that room?”
Feeling like a child at Winter Festival about to enter the pie maker’s shop, Farrell nodded eagerly. Kel placed a shimmering hand on the wall directly in front of him. The wall flickered for a moment but didn’t change appearance. Kel’s hand passed through.
“After you, grandson.” He moved to the side.
Farrell stepped forward and hesitated. It could have been another test, but Kel’s expression and words said otherwise. Trusting his instincts, he walked toward the wall. His foot met no resistance, but he kept his eyes closed as he crossed the barrier. When he opened his eyes, Kel stood beside him.
The wall shimmered again. Curious, Farrell reached back and touched the solid rock.
“You’re the key.” He understood what Kel had done, but he still couldn’t comprehend the scope of the magic needed to construct and protect these rooms.
“I am. Anyone who tries to blast their way into this chamber would cause the contents to shift somewhere else in the complex.”
The small room—fifteen feet wide by ten feet long—was little more than barren rock. A sconce with a globe of pale blue wizard’s fire hung on each wall, and a small stone trunk sat to his left.
“Did you bring the book I left for you in Trellham?”
Farrell nodded and withdrew the tome from his endless pocket. “I did.”
“Of course you did.” Kel pointed to the left. “Place it on the trunk, please. Make sure all the book is on the stone top.”
His boots echoed in the empty room. Carefully he did as instructed and stepped back. The book jumped slightly, then flew open almost to the end. When the pages settled, it opened to a blank sheet. Kel touched the page with his right finger, and the parchment turned black. Light from the globe overhead revealed the book acted as a portal into the chamber below. Craning his neck so as to not block the light, Farrell saw two objects at the bottom of the space.
“The opening is real. You may reach inside and remove what you find.”
Tentatively, Farrell put his hand through the page. His fingers touched a short, smooth, circular object. Grasping the tube, he turned it slightly to bring it through the opening.
The four-foot-long silver cylinder had a cap on one end. He placed it to the right of the book and reached for the second item. It felt like a box in well-oiled leather. He ran his fingers along the edges and worried the box might be bigger than the open page. He pulled it toward the opening, hoping it would fit.
As he estimated, the box was too large for the page, but the book expanded like one of his endless pockets until Farrell could easily remove the small chest. Stitched on three sides, the item measured about three feet in length, two feet wide, and twelve inches thick.
Farrell set the box next to the cylinder as Kel watched expectantly. Replaying Kel’s instructions, he ordered the globe over his head into the trunk. In the dark back corner, he quickly retrieved a small leather pouch.
Before he could set the bag next to the other two items, the page turned back to its original blank state. Kel nodded at him when he stole a glance at his guide. “Well done.”
Farrell decided to examine the pouch first, and under the watchful eye of his grandfather, he untied the drawstring. A large blue gemstone the size of his fist tumbled into his hand when he upended the leather bag. When he held up the gem, it sparkled in the wizard’s fire.
“It’s . . .” Farrell almost didn’t want to dare believe what he saw. It couldn’t be that, could it? “It’s—”
“The Eye of Honorus.”
Farrell sucked in a breath. “The . . . the . . . Eye of Honorus?”
“Don’t look so surprised, grandson. Did you think I’d go to all this effort to
hide a few trinkets and baubles?”
He’d expected something valuable, but the Eye? “No, but a Gift of the Gods? This is beyond my dreams.”
“I’d suggest you keep your superlatives to a minimum for the moment.” Kel gestured to the other items. “You’ve not opened the cylinder.”
With shaking hands, Farrell placed the Eye back in the pouch and reached for the silver tube. The top unscrewed easily, and Farrell peered into the cylinder. Nestled in a cushion of purple velvet rested a three-foot-long silver staff, topped with a round crystal. Farrell suspected he knew which Gift he held. As he drew the contents slowly from its container, he glanced up at Kel.
“The Arm of Khron.” Kel put his ethereal hand on top of the chest. “Inside this box are two books, which have no fancy names nor have they been touched by the divine. They are merely books I wrote for you, my heir. One explains the Eye and the Arm, the other gives you information I thought you might find useful. Call it hubris to place my own words beside gifts from Honorus and Khron, but hiding them inside this room and in that trunk kept them away from prying eyes.”
Farrell snorted as he slid the Arm back into its case. “Among any other company, two previously unknown books penned by the legendary Kel would be a treasure beyond their weight in gold. To call them ‘merely books’ you wrote is like saying Dumbarten is merely an island off the coast of Lourdria.”
“The containers are made to conceal the objects from even the most determined probes.” Kel’s demeanor changed, as if he repeated a rehearsed speech. “Keep them wrapped when you’re not using them. One of the books deals with the Gifts, but it is by no means complete. I’ve scoured the world looking for information on how to use the Gifts, but there is a paucity of details available. My book on the Arm and the Eye contains everything I could find about either of them. The other tome is focused on magic I think you’ll find useful.”
Kel went silent. He stood so still he didn’t even appear to be breathing.
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 61