“Am I being dismissed?” Farrell wondered if he’d get an answer. Sparks twinkled at the edges of Kel’s eyes, and he resumed the demeanor he’d displayed when Farrell first encountered him.
“In a word, yes. It takes a lot of energy to sustain this spell. You have what I meant for you to receive, so I’ll return from whence I came.”
“Does that mean when I go, you’ll be gone for good?”
“I truly don’t know what will happen when you leave. I created me to greet you and provide you with assistance in finding these items. Given the effort it took to do this much, more seemed imprudent.”
Kel turned back toward the main room. He put his arm around Farrell’s shoulder and although it didn’t feel like a real arm or hand, Farrell felt something.
“In theory you should be able to summon me anytime you return to this room. However, that is just speculation. I’ve never used this spell before.” Kel looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I used it several times, but this is the first time it’s been activated.”
Farrell stopped walking. “You’ve used this spell other times? Several other times? I’ve never heard of—”
“And that is how it should be. This is the one you were supposed to come to first.”
“There are other rooms like this?”
“Not exactly like this, but yes, I created other places for you to find. And don’t be surprised if those other versions of ‘me’ are aware of what transpired here today.”
Farrell almost shouted. He’d been right all the time. Kel was still alive. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Kel’s voice stopped his words.
“I wove into each ‘me’ a spell that allows us to share information. That way I didn’t need to go to each site to update each ‘me’ any time something important changed.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? You sound disappointed. And here I was particularly proud of that part of the spell.” Kel chuckled. “Do you know how difficult it is to create an open conduit into a spell so you can access it remotely at some later time from a spell you’ve not even created?”
Farrell shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. To be honest, I can’t imagine half of what you came up with to create this sanctuary.”
“So what caused your disappointment?”
“I thought you were . . . I mean . . . that . . .” He let out a sigh. Not only did he feel foolish for what he thought, but all Kel had done to create this—and the other hidden caches—made him feel overmatched. “I thought you were still alive.”
“Ah. My apologies, but I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.” Kel stopped walking. “I only know what I knew when I created the spell. Certainly I was alive the last time I created or updated one of me, but that’s obvious. Nor can I say how long ago I did that because time has no meaning to a magical image. I wish I could be more helpful.”
Still disappointed, Farrell said, “If you’d been any more helpful, you’d go fight Meglar for me. This has been more than I’d ever imagined. So lest I appear ungrateful, thank you, Grandfather.”
They crossed back through the wall, and it solidified again after Kel passed through. He stopped walking a step from the marble flagstone. “It is time for me to go.” Kel inclined his head. “It was good to meet you, Grandson.”
Farrell returned the smile and bowed deeply. “Grandsire, it was my honor to have met you, even this you. I will see you again soon.”
Kel cocked his head slightly. “Perhaps. One can never know for certain.” He stepped into the opening and winked out of existence.
With only the cold granite for company, Farrell said, “I’m certain.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
FARRELL REALIZED he stood on a stretch of floor not covered by his counterspell and braced himself for an assault. As Kel promised, however, the spell did not activate. Farrell decided against checking on the spell more closely so he wouldn’t trigger it accidentally.
He cautiously walked toward the door leading into the council room. Taking a deep breath, he tapped his staff several times onto the stone floor and watched as his spell evaporated into nothingness. If anyone else entered the room, the full force of Kel’s defensive spells would converge on the intruder—as Kel intended.
The members of the order went silent the moment Farrell opened the door. Feeling uneasy and to keep himself calm, Farrell searched for Miceral. The smile on his partner’s face made Farrell’s pulse quicken despite the setting. It had been too long since he’d been able to fall asleep wrapped in Miceral’s arms.
“You look intact.” Miceral’s smile grew until it threatened to split his face in two.
“For the most part.” He ignored the rest of the room and moved closer so he could hug Miceral. “It was beyond anything I expected, in a very good way.”
“Wonderful. Is our quest over?”
“No, I’m afraid this is just the beginning.” Farrell reluctantly broke the embrace. “Let me explain to the Order what happened. I’m sure they’re going to tear me to bits if I don’t tell them something soon.”
Everyone still looked at him, so he flashed them a smirk. “Anxious to hear what happened?”
The room burst into chatter as people peppered him with questions from all sides. Unable to answer everyone at once, he held up his hand. “King Markus, perhaps you had best ask first.”
“Thank you, cousin.” Markus motioned for the others to take their seats. “Start from the beginning. What happened when the door shut?”
Farrell did his best to answer without making mention of the Gifts. He tried to deflect the group from asking more questions by saying he wouldn’t know for sure until he had a chance to read the two books. Nerti interrupted him after his third attempt to avoid giving more specific details. She’d barely said three words when his adoptive father spoke into his mind.
“Nerti is going to ask a very long question so you and I may speak. You are withholding information about what happened.” Rothdin’s statement told Farrell he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, lie to his father.
“Some of what happened is best kept a secret.” Farrell turned to his right, where Rothdin sat next to Nerti. The peregrine king never took his eyes off Nerti.
“It is our opinion that you should not keep secrets from the group. The Order was established to help the Champion of the Six when Neldin returned. To do that, you need to trust them.”
“I believe Kel wanted me to keep some of what happened a secret.”
“Did he specifically tell you not to speak of what you learned with the Order?”
“No, but—”
“That is as it should be. Trusted allies deserve to know the truth.”
“I agree, but I would like some time to discuss what I’ve learned with those I trust. I don’t know these people. How can I say I trust them?”
“I trust them.”
Farrell understood the message. Still, he hesitated because he feared the reaction his information would likely evoke. “Kel left me the Eye of Honorus and the Arm of Khron.”
For an instant Farrell thought his father would give away that they were speaking.
“Even that you must share.”
Farrell heard a slight hesitation in his father’s voice. He owed Rothdin his life. And while that didn’t entitle his father to blind obedience, it did speak to the lengths the peregrine would go to keep him safe.
“My instincts say to do the opposite, but you have the greater wisdom, Father. I shall do as you say.”
The way Rothdin’s feathers moved told Farrell more than words his father’s thoughts.
“Queen Nerti.” The room shifted its attention from Nerti to Farrell.
“It’s about time. Even I have limits.”
He caught the barest of winks from his friend.
“I apologize for interrupting, but I would share with the room what you and my adoptive father wish me to disclose.”
Farrell put his hand in his pocket and called for the Eye first. “Nerti’s question was an attempt to give my father time to convince me to share with the Order everything that happened.”
“I knew it!” Prince Fergus stood up and pointed at Farrell. “I could tell you held back.”
Farrell wasn’t sure how to answer, or even if he wanted to give him an explanation. The prince never gave him a chance to decide. He turned toward the king and high priest. “I told you we should have sent someone in there with him. How can we be sure he’s telling us everything?”
“The room would not have let you in with me.”
Fergus sneered at Farrell “We have only your word on that.”
Emerson put his hand on his father’s arm. “Calm down, Father. We can discuss this without the accusations.”
“Someone needs to confront him.” He crossed his arms, never taking his eyes off Farrell. “We gave him access to the room, and he admits he found things inside that he planned to keep to himself.”
Farrell placed his palms on the stone table and leaned over to glare at the prince. “The Order didn’t give me anything, and neither did you. Kel left it for me and I claimed it.”
“The Order—”
“The Order was created to assist the Chosen to fight Neldin’s evil.” Father Gedrin came to his aid. “Farrell is correct. Whatever Kel hid inside that room was meant for Farrell. We were guardians, not owners.”
“My son has given me his word he would not withhold anything from this group,” Rothdin said. “Would you question my word?”
“No, of course not, Lord Rothdin, but who’s to say he’ll keep his word to you?”
“Enough!” Markus slammed his hands on the table and stood up. “The Order has always encouraged its members to speak their mind, but civility and decorum are still a requirement. What cause do you have to question Farrell’s honor?”
“Your Majesty.” Fergus’s voice lost the angry edge, but he did not, however, back down. “Farrell admitted he planned to withhold information. I do not think my questions are out of line.”
Miceral tensed up next to Farrell. “Be calm, Ral. Once he stops talking, I’ll let them know what I learned and we can leave.”
“Father.” Emerson stared up at his father. “Farrell . . . I believe you can trust him if he’s given his word.”
“What do you suggest, Prince Fergus?” Penelope asked. “If you’re correct and he decides to keep some information private, who will force him? Lord Rothdin or Queen Nerti might be able to do it, but they seem content to trust him. So, since you don’t want to accept his word, what do we do next?”
“I like her,” Miceral said.
Farrell hid a smile. “Only because she’s on my side. If that changes, I bet you’d feel differently.”
“Perhaps if you let him address us, Prince Fergus, we’ll have a better idea if we want to continue this topic.” Markus glared at Fergus until the older man bowed and sat down. “My apologies, cousin. You were about to tell us what you found inside Kel’s secret chamber.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Farrell stood up and searched his pocket for the Eye and the Arm. “Everything I recounted earlier is accurate except that inside the trunk, in addition to the books Kel wrote, I found two other objects.”
Taking out the Eye of Honorus first, Farrell placed it on the table.
He quickly found the Arm of Khron and laid it next to the Eye. He slowly unwound the knot on the small leather bag and pulled out the stone. The deep blue gem caught some of the wizard’s light and reflected it all around the room.
“Is that . . .?” Gedrin leaned closer.
“Yes, Holy Father, it is.” He raised his hand higher. “The Eye of Honorus.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
STANDING BEFORE a window in their new suite in the palace, Dreth sprawled below Farrell. Markus invited them to stay in the palace, and before they could answer, Father Gedrin informed them that their possessions had already been moved.
Comfortable and well-appointed, the rooms the chamberlain assigned them did not compare in grandeur to the ones Wilhelm had provided in Belsport. Peter was given a room adjoining theirs, and Farrell created a door between the two that remained open while they were awake to prevent the young prince from feeling alone and isolated.
Through a gap in the buildings, the old city walls barely surrounded a quarter of the city. Most of the inner city had been converted to government buildings. Miceral moved closer, wrapping his arms around Farrell.
“I thought Yar-del City was impressive, but Dreth is beyond anything I imagined,” Farrell said.
“It looks . . . plain.” Peter stood at the other open window. “All the buildings look the same.”
“Dumbarten’s bureaucracy is probably the largest in the world.” Farrell sank back against Miceral, happy to be held following four days in the infirmary. “Building the space to house it probably didn’t allow for the array of architecture that Belsport’s much smaller workforce required.”
“Why is Peter still here?” Farrell asked without moving. “Wasn’t the plan to send him home as soon as we reached Dumbarten?”
“Aside from the fact we were all a bit preoccupied helping a certain someone get better, who did you think would send him home? Me?”
Farrell kept his tone neutral. His partner wouldn’t think about using magic the way a grand master would. “He could have gone to Haven using the same Door that brought Rothdin, Nerti, and Klissmor here.”
“True.” Miceral hugged him a bit tighter. “But like I said, we were a bit busy at the time. No one thought about sending him home.”
“No harm. Inside Honorus’s temple, he’s as safe as in Belsport, but we should figure out how to send him home soon.”
“He won’t like that, you know.”
The first thought that came to him, he didn’t voice. Instead he tried a softer approach. “Peter’s wishes aren’t for us to consider. Wilhelm expects us to send him home. Peter can take that up with his father.”
“You’re right, of course. I was just preparing you for his reaction when you tell him.”
“Me?” Farrell twisted until he could face Miceral. “Why is this being dropped in my lap?”
“Someone has to do it.”
“Why can’t we tell him together?” Farrell had delivered unpleasant news to people before, but he didn’t want it to always be his responsibility.
“That’s fair. Did you want to do it now?”
Farrell shook his head. “No, let me speak to Wilhelm first.
“What are you two talking about that you don’t want me to hear?”
Before Farrell could decide how to answer, Miceral spoke first.
“Assuming we were speaking in private, the whole point of that would be so you didn’t hear what we said.”
“So you’re talking about me and don’t want me to hear it?”
Farrell’s eyes narrowed at how Peter spoke to them. “Two things. First, don’t presume you’re the center of the world. Did it ever occur to you we might like to talk about things that we’d like to keep private? Miceral is my life partner, after all.”
“I know where you’re going, but don’t.”
“Why not? Just because we pretended to be his guards doesn’t give him the right to speak to us like the help. If anything, he needs a lesson in how to be tactful around other peers.”
“He’s been through a lot, too. Just let me handle it.” Miceral didn’t wait for Farrell to agree. “Peter, yes, we were talking about you, but it’s wasn’t bad. Our agreement with your father was to send you home when we reached Dumbarten, but things haven’t gone as planned. And now that we’re in the palace, it makes sense for you to stay for a bit. But that’s not our decision, it’s your father’s. So we were talking about contacting him to check if he is in agreement with you staying for a time.”
“So much for sending him home.”
“My way is better.” Miceral kissed the top of his
head. “Wilhelm will want him home, so we won’t look like we’re sending him away.”
The logic of Miceral’s answer made sense, but Farrell suspected things never worked out quite that simply. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and cringed.
“Let’s go restart our training. I lost too much weight while I was unconscious.”
AFTER TRAINING, Farrell sent a message via Haven to Wilhelm, requesting a meeting. When the message arrived from Haven less than an hour later that Wilhelm wanted to speak as soon as possible, Farrell had to check to be sure he had the time difference right. He hadn’t expected an answer until after the dinner hour, given Belsport’s location almost exactly halfway around the world.
“It appears Wilhelm is eager for his son’s return.” Miceral wrapped his towel around his taut midsection. “You said it’s still a couple hours till dawn in Belsport.”
“It is.” With an effort, Farrell took his eyes off his partner’s nearly naked body. The effect had already started, so he adjusted his pants and stood up. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll let Peter know I’m about to make contact with his father.”
He left the room before he acted on his desire to undo the towel. Much as he wanted the time alone and the intimacy he’d missed during their ocean voyage, duty required he put it off a bit longer.
The door he’d created between their room and Peter’s stood open, reminding him that he and Miceral still had no privacy. Peter sat on the bed, shirtless and without boots. He didn’t seem to notice he had company until Farrell tapped lightly on the doorframe.
“Sorry to disturb you, Peter, but your father responded already and wants to talk to me as soon as I can arrange it.”
When Peter slipped his tunic over his head, Farrell noticed he’d started to fill out—or fill out as much as one with his bloodline would. Wilhelm was only slightly less wiry than Farrell. To give Peter a bit more privacy, Farrell walked toward the open window.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked as Peter pulled on a boot. “You seemed far away when I knocked.”
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 62