When Kel’s gaze moved away, Farrell turned around toward Miceral. “Grandfather, this is Miceral, my life partner.”
Kel eyed Miceral critically for a moment, then smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Miceral. Be welcome in my home.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Miceral bowed deeply.
Kel clicked his tongue thrice and waved a thin hand dismissively. “Just Kel. I renounced the crown centuries ago.”
Farrell stood rooted in place. He’d spent the last few months searching for his ancestor, but he’d never worked out what he’d say if they met. The silence dragged on for a long moment before Kel pointed toward Miceral’s breastplate.
“You both wear armor with the royal crest of Trellham. Something no one has done in over three thousand years. There is most surely a story there to be told.” Kel stared closer at Miceral for another moment and smiled. “Unless my old eyes deceive me, you are a Muchari.”
Miceral looked to Farrell, who shook his head. How Kel could determine Miceral’s race was a mystery. With a slight nod, Miceral said, “Your eyes still serve you well.”
For a moment Kel appeared lost. It reminded Farrell of when someone spoke to a unicorn or peregrine mentally for the first time. When the moment passed, Kel smiled broadly. “Come inside, please. It is a poor host who leaves family standing at the front door.”
Farrell moved like a man dazed. They followed their host and waited in the small room on the other side of the door. Kel directed them to a set of chairs near a worn wooden table while he walked into the kitchen area. He opened a cupboard and removed three mugs and a pitcher that appeared full. Pouring liquid into all three, he returned to the table.
“Just fruit juice mixed with water. My mother used to make it for my siblings and me when she had the money to purchase enough oranges for all of us.”
Farrell took a sip, and it reminded him of a breakfast not too long ago. “King Thrinton of Colograd served something similar.”
“Indeed.” Kel didn’t elaborate but took an empty seat across from Farrell. “Have you collected all seven Gifts?”
“Not yet.” Farrell shook his head. “In addition to the four you left me, I have the Mind of Falcron. I’ll get the other two soon.”
“Oh.” Kel stared into space. “I expected you to collect the other three before you came to find me.”
“I intended to, but Nordric’s death caused me to change my mind.”
“Nordric?” Kel returned his attention to Farrell. “That name is familiar.”
Farrell glanced at Miceral and let him answer the unspoken question. “Nordric was a unicorn. He had his horn ripped from his head by a Chamdon during the battle of Agloth.”
“Ripped from his head?” Kel’s eyes opened wider. “That’s barbaric and unholy.”
“I agree, Grandfather. It’s one reason I decided to come find you first.”
“Sorry, but why do you call me Grandfather?”
“Does it bother you?” He realized he’d answered Kel’s question with one of his own. “Sorry. ‘Grandfather’ is what we decided I’d call you when we first spoke. Besides, both of mine are dead, so there isn’t any chance of confusion.”
“Yes, Bren’s death was unfortunate and painful.” Kel looked into his cup. “Falon was ambitious, but an ambitious fool. Even a blind man could see his wife practiced dark magic.”
“Couldn’t you have saved Bren?” Farrell didn’t trust his voice to ask about saving his mother as well.
Kel shook his head. “I was not allowed. For me to accomplish what the Six required of me, the world needed to believe I was dead. Honorus forbade me to reveal myself, even if it led to the conquest of my beloved Yar-del.”
“So you did try to help them.” The idea Kel had abandoned his kingdom and heirs had always been at the back of Farrell’s mind.
“Try? No. I asked but was denied permission.” Kel looked pained by the topic. “But these are events long past. I’m curious how you knew I’d be here.”
“I didn’t know for sure. I strongly suspected I’d find you here.” Farrell glanced at Miceral. “After Agloth, I knew you needed a safe place to recuperate.”
“But as you’ve learned, I have several safe places around Nendor. I could have been at any of them.”
“Like I said, it was a hunch.” Farrell shrugged. “You wanted me to find those safe places. That and this place was off limits to everyone but your family and had been for centuries. No one would stumble upon it and wonder why it was here.”
Kel smiled. “That and you had nothing to lose checking here first.”
Farrell looked down and smirked. “That, too.”
“Now that you found me, my young grandson, what can I do for you?” “I’d like some answers,” Farrell said.
“I would as well,” Miceral added.
“Answers require questions.” Kel stood and returned with the pitcher. “I’m too old to tell you my life’s tale in less than a year. You will need to be more specific.”
Farrell ran his finger around the top of his mug. “That way you can also limit what you tell me to nothing more than what I ask. Can’t have you giving away some drop of wisdom that I didn’t think to ask for.”
“You wound me deeply.” Kel took a sip from his cup. “I’m not the deceitful monster you suggest, Grandson.”
Farrell held back a smile at being called “grandson.” “Not a monster, but you are adept at deception, Grand Master Kel.”
“I believe you were going to ask me some questions?”
Farrell stared at Kel for a long moment, then laughed. “I spent the last few months trying to find you, and now I don’t know what to ask first.”
“Why did you want to find me?”
“Other than the obvious answer, that you’re Kel, I need your help to free the dwarves you sent into the void. But your image already told me you don’t know how to bring them back. Unless that’s incorrect.”
“I gave you an honest answer.” Kel leaned back in his chair. “I will do all I can to help you, but that might be limited to telling you what I did, where I was, and how I cast the spell.”
Farrell let out a sigh. “I won’t lie, I had hoped you would have an answer, but I expected this response. Anything else you can do to help me in this war will be appreciated.”
“There is much I can offer, but again it will be difficult for me to simply tell you what you need to know.”
Despite Kel’s evasive answers, or lack of answers, Farrell lost none of his excitement. As he considered what to ask first, Miceral cleared his throat.
“Perhaps it would be best if you invite Kel to come with us to Haven,”
Miceral said. “That way you two can talk at length and hammer this out.” “Do you know what Haven is?” Farrell asked.
“I do, though I’ve never been there.” Kel looked around the room and nodded to himself. “To answer Miceral, yes, I will come with you when you return to Haven. It is time for me to leave this place for good and let my life run its course.”
“What do you mean?” Farrell’s stomach tightened as he waited for the answer.
Kel smiled briefly. “For centuries I have come here to rest and prolong my life. During those times, decades or more would pass, and much that I knew would change. Family, friends, kings and queens, even wizards I knew and cared for would die while I slept. When I awoke, I had to begin anew. It is a cheerless, loveless life that I do not recommend for anyone.
“Now that you found me, I shall not use that spell again. I will allow time to catch up to me, and when it is time, I will join my beloved in eternal rest.”
“Sounds like you are looking forward to dying,” Miceral said.
“A part of me welcomes an end to my labors. Much has changed in my long life, some good, some not so good. Though a part of me wants to cling to this life I have lived for so long, a larger part of me has no desire to begin over again. I am at peace with my life and no longer fear death as I once did.
&n
bsp; “But enough of feeling sorry for myself.” Kel held out the pitcher and refilled their cups. “You have questions, and I would like to find out more about your friend Nordric’s death.”
Kel allowed Farrell to ask questions, but more often than not, he asked for clarification on something that sent Farrell off on a tangent. Finally, Farrell gave up trying to direct the conversation and answered Kel’s questions.
He and Miceral explained the events leading up to their arrival at Agloth. Kel asked many questions, so it took a few hours to get to the events at Seritia’s city. After he finished recounting his fight with Vedric, Farrell stood up to stretch.
“You don’t seem surprised that Meglar had sired children before he sought my mother’s hand.” Farrell suppressed a surge of anger. The stupidity of being mad at Meglar for that annoyed him more. “Did you know before they were joined?”
“Not before, no.” Kel pressed his palms on the table and stood. “After Meglar’s betrayal I used the Eye to find out more about him. That is when I learned he had three other children before you.”
“Three?” Farrell and Miceral asked in unison.
Kel raised an eyebrow. “Did I misspeak?”
“No, I just didn’t know. I had thought to use the Eye to find out more, but . . .” He shrugged.
“Understandable. It would change nothing to know this information, and I’m certain you had more pressing matters.” Kel waved his staff in a circle, and the cups and pitcher were whisked away. “You’ve told me quite a bit but left out even more. That and the further questions I have about how you defeated the spells I left to defend the Arm and the Eye will have to wait, however. I’m tired and would like to rest.”
“Umm . . .” Farrell looked at Miceral. “I’ve not told King Markus you’re coming. I don’t think they’re prepared to accept you.”
Waving his free hand, Kel walked toward the door. “That’s not a concern. I’m staying here tonight. You can come get me in the morning.”
“Why?” The disappointment in his voice surprised Farrell. One night wouldn’t matter.
“Because, my impatient young grandson, I wish to stay another night in my home.” He patted Farrell on the forearm. It might have been patronizing, but Farrell took it as a sign of fondness. “I was not expecting to leave so soon, and I require a bit of time to gather the things I will need for the journey.”
“We could stay and help,” Farrell offered.
“That’s not necessary.” Kel smiled. “Allow an old man one last night in the home where he was raised. Once I leave, it is unlikely I shall ever return.”
It was midday when the Door opened on the outskirts of Dreth and the four travelers returned to Penelope and Marisa’s estate. Farrell’s excitement was tempered by the fact they returned without Kel. “Tomorrow” seemed forever away.
They recounted the details surrounding their “discovery” that Kel lived in his ancestral home. Penelope displayed more interest than either Claire or Marisa, while Peter stayed in the room but paid no attention.
“To think, we journeyed all the way to Agloth and Kel was here the whole time.” Penelope sat forward on the couch she shared with Marisa. “It would have saved us a lot of effort had we known.”
Farrell shook his head. “We went to Agloth for more than just information on Kel. But it would have helped to know he was there.”
“I’ve been inside that house several times but never noticed his presence. How could he have been using it to hide?”
“Why does that surprise you? This is Kel.” Farrell chuckled, but when he noticed the sour look on Penelope’s face, he quickly added, “He had centuries to perfect his spells. Even if you knew he was there, it would have taken an enormous effort to breach the spell.”
“Still, it’s humbling to find out he could deceive me so easily.”
“Had you had the same amount of time to devote to the spell, you could have done the same and Kel wouldn’t have noticed you, either.” Penelope glared at him and Farrell nodded. “It’s true. The spell isn’t hard. It just has to be laid properly.”
Peter sighed, and Farrell missed what Penelope said in response to his comment. He heard enough to know she was skeptical. When Peter turned his way, Farrell looked back to her.
“He could have just told you and saved us some effort.”
“To Kel, the journey was part of the lesson.” Peter was still staring at him, so Farrell put his cup down and stood. “Will everyone excuse me for a few minutes?”
Amidst questioning looks, he walked over and stood in front of Peter until he acknowledged him.
“What?” Peter asked in an irritated voice.
“Join me for a walk.” Farrell made it clear it was not optional.
“Why?”
“Because I want to have a private conversation with you, and everyone else would listen in if we stayed here.” He never took his gaze off his friend, even as Peter looked around the room.
For a few seconds, Farrell wondered if he’d have to embarrass Peter in front of everyone. Finally Peter stood, and Farrell led them from the room. “I see you’re still in your armor.” Farrell motioned up and down with his index and middle fingers. “Shouldn’t you change into something less cumbersome?”
“You and Miceral haven’t changed. Why should I?”
“We still have to visit Markus, and the armor serves a purpose.” They reached the courtyard and Farrell stopped. “You, however, have no such obligations. Why don’t you go out with Claire and enjoy a well-deserved night of fun.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me again?”
“Get rid of you? What are you talking about?” Farrell held up his hand. “Never mind that, what’s really wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Peter refused to make eye contact. “Just because I didn’t change doesn’t mean something’s the matter.”
“It’s not just the armor. You’re sullen, withdrawn, and irritable. That’s not like you, so I’m worried.”
Peter finally met Farrell’s concerned stare. “You’re not my father.”
“No, I’m not, but I am responsible for your safety.”
“Now you care about me?” Peter snorted. “Don’t patronize me, Farrell. I’m not a child.”
Farrell didn’t answer. He let the silence linger long enough for Peter to fidget uncomfortably. Finally Farrell held out his hand. “I feel like flying. Let’s go for a trip.”
“Why do I need to go? I’d rather stay here.”
It took some effort, but Farrell held his temper in check. “Please stop sniping at me. I’d prefer not to make it an order, Peter.”
Peter squinted slightly and his lip trembled. Hesitantly he took the offered hand.
Extending his aura, Farrell had them above the mansion and heading for Dreth. They cleared the walls and could see the calm sea ahead. He considered taking them over the water but stopped on the perch where he and Rothdin had spoken.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Farrell said once he had them on the wide ledge. “I want to help if I can.”
Peter stared at the water and didn’t respond. Farrell gave his friend some time, but when he still didn’t answer, he pressed on. “It’s Nordric’s death, isn’t it?”
Peter’s head jerked back, then whipped around so he faced Farrell.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you still feel responsible for his death?”
“Are you saying it was my fault?”
“Of course not.” He swallowed loudly and shook his head. “I’m to blame, not you.”
“You? How?” Peter’s stony exterior cracked a bit.
“I could have . . . I should have killed Vedric right away. Instead I toyed with him once I knew he had no chance to defeat me. I’d hoped to learn something about Meglar from the way he trained Vedric. The fight yielded no useful insights. It needlessly prolonged the battle and caused more deaths, including Nordric’s. I’m sorry for putting you at risk like that and hope you can forgi
ve me.”
“No.” Peter closed his eyes tightly. “I caused Nordric’s death. I’m to blame. If I hadn’t tried to prove I belonged, I could have stayed inside the walls like Miceral wanted. Instead I begged Nordric to let me join the fight.”
Words spilled from his mouth in their rush to get out, and Farrell kept silent. “Nordric asked his father to get Miceral to change his mind, and Klissmor did. Miceral was mad at me, I could tell from his eyes, but he let me join the battle.
“I told . . . I told Nordric I’d show Miceral I belonged.” Tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks, first one at a time, then in bunches. “He tried . . . Nordric tried to tell me I had nothing to prove, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to be in the middle of the fight and kept asking Nordric to take us where there was more action.
“He didn’t listen to me. He isn’t . . . wasn’t stupid like me.” Peter used his sleeve to wipe his face. “We’d just finished fighting a company and were taking a rest when that group came at us.”
“Miceral told me you acquitted yourself well during that fight.”
“Not well enough!” Peter’s voice would have carried across the city had Farrell not hidden them from observers. “Nordric died because I wasn’t good enough.”
“No, Peter. He died because I wasted too much time killing Vedric.” This time Farrell couldn’t look at his friend. “When Vedric went down, his cousin decided it was time to leave. He sent those Chamdon to rip out Nordric’s horn.”
“What? How can you know that?”
“Brezlaw was fighting Penelope, and he needed to distract her long enough to get away. Penelope told me he tried using several lesser wizards to engage her, but she killed them so fast he couldn’t break her focus on him. Then those Chamdon charged your group. Nordric was the target, but no one knew it until it was too late.”
“That’s . . . that’s . . . that can’t be right. They attacked all of us.”
Farrell finally turned to look Peter in the eye. “Ask Miceral if you don’t believe me. A Chamdon holds on to the last command it is given and carries it out until it’s changed by a handler or it dies. The Chamdon that knocked you down would’ve tried to kill you if its last command had been to kill anything in its path.”
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