“Your point is well taken.” Her presence left his mind for a moment but quickly returned. “Nordric and I are ready to come to you.”
“Send me the location and I’ll bring you here.” The image of the stalls Markus had converted for the unicorns and peregrines pushed itself into his mind. “Markus?”
“Yes?” He looked up from the stallion he was helping the novice saddle.
“You can have the horses returned to their stables. Nerti and her son have agreed they will take us . . . wherever we’re going.”
“Oh?” Markus’s eyes grew wider, and he looked like an eager child on festival day.
“With no disrespect to the quality of your horses, I’d feel more comfortable knowing Nerti and Nordric won’t require any guidance from us should trouble find us.”
“At the risk of losing my chance to ride a unicorn prince, there really won’t be any trouble.”
“Indulge me, please, Your Majesty.” He closed his eyes and summoned his staff from his apartments in the palace. The black wood met his hand with a loud smack. “I’d rather make certain I keep you as safe as possible while you are counting on me to defend you. It wouldn’t help the war effort to create an incident with Dumbarten.”
“Far be it from me to cause an international crisis in these troubled times.” He made eye contact with the young priests and motioned toward the temple. “You can take these back. Please inform the holy father I appreciate his generosity, but Lord Farrell has arranged alternative transportation.”
The pair looked at Farrell and he nodded. “As Chosen of Honorus, I give you my word, the king will be safe.” He didn’t wait for their reply. Instead he scanned the area for a suitable location to create a Door. When he found a flat stretch of ground, he paced out the dimension and locked in the first point. Vaguely he heard Markus come closer.
“Had to throw out that you’re Honorus’s Chosen to show me up?” There was a playful lilt in Markus’s voice. Knowing he hadn’t upset the king, Farrell kept his attention on his work.
“I’m told priests and priestesses can see something that tells them I’m chosen of their god or goddess. Neither of them needed to be told of my status.”
“Then why throw it out there?”
“Because it helps to remind them that in the scheme of things, I outrank the high priest.” He dragged his staff up, created the anchor, then slid it left to form the top line of the Door.
Markus laughed. “Gedrin doesn’t think so.”
“If it comes to a test, I’m confident Honorus will side with me.”
He held the staff at the top left corner for a moment, then guided it back to the ground. After he locked in the last point, Farrell extended his hand and pushed out with his will. The area between the lines flashed as the energy ripped open the fabric of space. When the blaze of light cleared, Nerti and her son stood on the other side.
Seeing his friend, Farrell smiled and stepped aside. The pair walked through, and Farrell let the Door close. Nerti walked up and nuzzled him as she often did when they’d been apart for a day or more.
“You look well, Little One.”
“Thanks to you and my father and Miceral.” He scratched her just below the horn. Nordric waited next to her, so Farrell turned around and faced a grinning Markus. “Cousin, this is Nordric, son of Nerti and Klissmor. He has agreed to carry you for our outing.”
“Prince Nordric, this is a rare and unexpected honor you bestow on me.”
“Your Majesty is most welcome for what small services I may render. The aid you have willingly given my parents and their companions is beyond our ability to repay.”
Markus moved around and looked confused. “Where are the stirrups? Or reins? Or saddle?”
“You don’t need them. If a unicorn invites you to ride, you will not fall off.” Farrell vaulted onto Nerti’s back, then realized he’d left Markus no way to mount. He quickly created a set of energy steps beside Nordric. “Sorry. Miceral can jump on like I do without using magic. I forget not everyone’s a Muchari or a wizard.”
“No need to apologize.” Markus shifted a couple of times. “Had I the time, I’m sure I’d have found a way to mount. Do I . . . where do I hold on?”
“You can rest your hands on his neck, and that should be sufficient.” He demonstrated by placing his hands on either side of Nerti’s neck. “Just try not to yank on his mane.”
Markus looked skeptical but did as instructed. “Now what?”
“This is your excursion.” He stared down his nose at his cousin. “Remember? You could’ve told me, but you wanted to surprise me?”
Markus opened his mouth but stopped before he spoke. “Yes, Prince Nordric, that’s where we’re going.”
“Do you both have the location?”
“Yes, Little One. The king was able to provide Nordric with a clear image of our route. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
“Not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?”
“Your cousin wants to surprise you, and who am I to disobey a king?” A burst of laughter escaped before he could hold it back.
“What’s so funny?” Markus asked.
“Let’s get started and I’ll explain.”
Nordric shook his head and ran toward the road. Once on the ancient route, Nerti and Nordric increased their pace. Farrell leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Nerti’s neck. He glanced to his right and saw Markus mimic his movement. A moment later, Nerti accelerated into a full-on gallop.
They raced through the heart of ancient Kentar past well-tended farmsteads. Farrell wondered how many of these fields had been in use when Kel walked this land. The weight of history reminded him why he’d come to Dumbarten. The sobering reality of his mission ruined the joy of the moment, and he stared at the ground rushing by beneath him.
Soon Nerti slowed her pace to a walk, and Farrell looked up. They turned down a narrow road, wide enough for just one rider to use at a time. At the end of the lane, sitting in the middle of a well-managed field, a small farmhouse held a lonely vigil. What drew Farrell’s attention, however, was the bright glow of arcane energy that surrounded the structure.
They continued until they reached a small, white fence that surrounded the modest home. Markus dismounted using a large stone that was too perfectly placed to have randomly been set there. Farrell leapt from Nerti’s back and moved closer to the barrier that surrounded the structure.
“What is this place?” He turned toward Markus, who stayed with the unicorns. “Someone expended a great deal of power to protect this building.”
“Three millennia and more ago, a simple farmer and his wife lived here.” He moved closer. “Little did they know their children would change the world. Bren built this house for his new bride Geena, and it was here they raised their sons. This was also the place the priests of Honorus discovered Kel working in the cornfields for his father.”
Markus walked with a purpose as he led them around the house and toward a small grove of old trees. Five elaborately carved headstones stood a lonely watch in front of the tiny thicket.
“Geena died before Kel finished his early schooling at Honorus’s temple. Bren passed away just before he attained master status from the temple of Falcron. Their deaths inspired him to return to this small farm to find a better way for the average farmer and his family.”
Farrell stood before the graves of his distant ancestors and felt the same pull of history Markus must have experienced. Here were people he never knew, could not possibly have known, but who shaped the destiny of the entire world. The values they instilled in their sons improved the lives of countless generations of Yar-del and Dumbarten citizens.
“Resting beside their parents are the three brothers who died when Vadra allowed his cousin to make war on this small community of farmers.” Markus’s voice dragged him from his thoughts. “The gravestones were a gift from the dwarves of Colograd who answered Kel’s call for help in his war against the duke who killed his
brothers. They wanted to honor the family of the man who saved the world from Neldin’s evil.”
The bond between Kel and the dwarf nations had come full circle now that Farrell was tasked with freeing the survivors of Trellham. Farrell ran his hand over the intricate designs carved in a pattern on Bren’s headstone. Each stone had been similarly adorned, but each design was unique. The face of an older man peered up from the stone. The image, and those on the other four, was so lifelike it seemed as if the eyes followed him.
“It was Kel who cast the spells over this place. Only members of the royal family may pass the protections set on the house. I would assume that would apply to you as well.” Markus pointed toward the building. “Shall we go inside?”
“No this is Kel’s home. It feels like I’m intruding. When I find him, I’ll ask him to show me around.”
“You’re that sure he’s alive?”
Farrell looked at Bren’s memorial again and nodded. “If I wasn’t, then I should have stayed home.”
“That’s a good point,” Markus said.
Farrell turned his attention back to the markers. He laid his hand on his grandsire’s headstone and whispered a spell. A small flower shot up from the earth and rapidly grew until it blossomed into a brilliant yellow lily. Moving to his right, Farrell repeated the ritual before the other four graves. He stepped back and observed his work.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” He turned to Markus. “My whole life I’ve heard of my distant ancestors. To stand here before their graves helps refocus me on what I must do. Their sons changed the world—saved it—for those of us who followed. Now it’s my turn to do my part.”
“This place changes people. My father brought me here when I was a teen. He said it was to remind me that when kings rule for themselves and not the people, they can be replaced. For me, this place speaks to how even simple people can change the world for the better. What you take from our visit only you will know, but as I said, this place changes you. If you’re ready, we should ride back. Though I might wish otherwise, I have obligations I can’t put off all day.”
Farrell nodded and kept to himself that he could easily open a Door back to the temple or the palace. Going back the way they came would give Markus the chance to ride Nordric again and leave Farrell time alone with his thoughts.
Chapter Three
The knock on the door startled Farrell as he studied the array of magical artifacts laid out in front of him on the bed. This early in the morning, he didn’t expect visitors. “Can you get that, Ral? I need to double-check I have everything we need.”
“Need? You barely unpacked. What could you be leaving behind?” Miceral walked toward the door.
“I’m taking inventory of what I have to make sure I don’t need to return to Haven for anything. I didn’t expect a three-week ride across Lourdria after Dumbarten.” He heard Miceral say something in response, but his attention was on the weapons and storage vessels he planned to take with him. Spending the last days of their ocean voyage in a coma had robbed him of time he could have used to refill some of the empty ones.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.” Emerson’s voice caught Farrell’s attention.
“It’s Emerson.”
The interruption was not welcome. “I’ll be right out. I’m almost finished.”
“No,” Miceral said. “We woke up a while ago.”
Farrell quickly finished his examination and whisked them all into his pocket with a wave of his hand. Exhaling loudly, he closed his eyes and pushed away his annoyance. He composed himself with another deep breath and when he opened his eyes, he headed toward the small sitting area in their suite.
“Emerson.” Farrell held out his hand and clasped forearms with their guest. “What brings you here today?”
He spared a glance at Miceral, and from the pinched expression on his partner’s face, he didn’t look forward to the answer. When Farrell turned back, Emerson released his arm and stared at his feet.
“What?” Farrell held up his hands and looked to Miceral. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t.” Miceral moved closer to Farrell. “He wants to come with us.”
“Out of the question.” Farrell fought the urge to spin around and leave. “There are already more going than I want.”
Emerson lifted his gaze and met Farrell’s. “And yet you bring a mere boy who, while a decent fighter, is no match for me.”
“Peter’s situation is very different,” Farrell said.
“Why? Because his father is an ally and asked you to bring him along?” A hint of bitterness tainted his words.
“No.” Farrell’s left eye twitched as he struggled to contain his annoyance. “He’s coming because the Six want him to come with us.”
“The Six told you to bring the crown prince of Belsport?”
“Seritia told us to bring a devotee of all Six,” Miceral said. “There is no one else She could have meant. Klissmor, Nerti, and Rothdin agreed that he is the follower of Arritisa we’re meant to bring.”
Emerson’s lips twisted tighter, and his eyes seemed distant for a moment. Finally he blinked. “I want to help. All my life I’ve tried to show Markus that my family and I are just as capable of serving Honorus as he and the House of Hevnor. But the king, like all descendants of Hevnor, fears my motives are to restore the glory of Oglithan. They throw us a bone and shunt us off to remote places for minor tasks. Even Father Gedrin wants me gone. He gave me one assignment after the other at sea. Told me that is where the Order needed me most.”
“And because you were on the Seafoam Rose, you helped us make it to Dumbarten,” Miceral said. “Everyone plays the role they are assigned.”
“So that’s it for me?” Emerson shook his head. “Now I should return to our estate, sit back, and grow old.”
“If that is all you see, there’s little I can say to make you feel better,” Farrell said.
“What other options are there for me? Where else can I go to make a difference in this war?”
“Belsport?” Farrell said. “They would welcome an experienced sailor who is also an excellent fighter and has command experience.”
Emerson’s mouth was slightly open. He closed his mouth, opened it as if to speak, then closed it again. Finally he said, “I’m not sure Prince Wilhelm would welcome me if I just show up on his docks.”
“Maybe not, but I can arrange an interview.”
“By the time you get back from Agloth—if you even stop off here on your way home—the war could be over.” Emerson shook his head. “I’m not sure Belsport is an option.”
“I meant now. I need to go to Haven to retrieve a few items. Princess Alicia is there, and I’m sure she could arrange for you to meet Wilhelm.” Farrell turned his back and began the work of opening a Door. “I’ll even write you a letter of recommendation.”
“Does he always move this fast?” Emerson asked Miceral.
“Only when we have something more pressing to handle.”
Farrell finished the spell, and the Door flared open. He turned toward Emerson. “Come with me.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Miceral asked. “I need to get a couple of things, too.”
“Of course, but we’re not staying long. As soon as I can make the introductions with Alicia, I want to get back so we can leave on time tomorrow.”
Without waiting for an answer, Farrell stepped through the Door. He knew how hard it would be to leave Haven, so the quicker they went, the sooner they could get back to Dreth. Despite his desire to stay at Haven, he wanted—needed—to find Kel and complete Khron’s task. Then hopefully Kel would help Farrell find a way to defeat Meglar.
The sun had barely cleared the eastern horizon when Farrell joined the others going to Agloth. With unicorns and peregrines to accommodate, they agreed to meet in the courtyard at Penelope’s estate. Nerti and Klissmor had selected their son, Nordric, to carry Peter, and Klissmor’s sister, Grenda, had agreed to bear Princess Penelope.
The four unicorns stood apart while staff packed supplies in the bags with endless pockets Wesfazial had given Farrell and Miceral as a union gift.
They kept the goodbyes to a minimum. Penelope took the longest. She and Marisa stood with their heads touching and their arms around their daughter Claire. It nearly brought Farrell to tears to see the angst on the faces of those left behind. Finally Penelope broke the hug and kissed them both.
“I will be back.”
“I know, dear.” Marisa’s smile was forced. “We will, however, miss you while you’re gone.”
Marisa let Claire give her mother a hug, then gently led her back into the house.
Farrell felt out of sorts as Penelope opened their Door.
“You’re not used to letting others take charge,” Nerti said. “I let you.”
The laughter caught Farrell off guard. Nerti twisted her head and winked at him. “No, Little One, you did not let me.”
Before he could answer, the Door flared to life and Nerti walked in its direction. Klissmor and Nordric led the way, followed by Grohl and Takala. Farrell heard Miceral’s shouts as he and Nerti crossed over.
“Are you mad?” Miceral yelled. “They’re Honorus’s chosen protectors. If you don’t put your swords down, I’ll let them teach you better manners.”
“Is there a problem?” All eyes turned toward Penelope as she arrived.
“Princess.” The flustered captain who Miceral just yelled at bowed.
“We weren’t expecting these . . . the . . .”
“I’d suggest you do as Lord Miceral says, Captain, and stand down.”
The man blinked and waved to his men, who seemed relieved. “My apologies, Lord Miceral.”
“Think nothing of it,” Grohl said. “My brother and I have this effect on those not used to seeing such fearsome warriors as ourselves.”
“Please take me to see Ambassador Segth.” Penelope motioned toward the Door, and it disappeared. “We need to be off as quickly as possible.”
The captain led the way, leaving his nervous soldiers behind. Grohl and Takala each raised one talon, opened their claws, flexed them, and put them down. They repeated this sequence with their other foot.
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