“Captain Jagwin sent us once he heard you’d be entering here,” Greigel said with a smirk.
“I’m sure he did.” Before Farrell could say more, a general in Trellham’s colors led a column of soldiers into the open space before the gate. Greigel and his dwarves moved closer, and everyone had a hand on a weapon.
“At ease, Lieutenant.” His order had no effect as the general and five dwarves peeled off and walked over.
Greigel ignored the others. “Captain Jagwin heard an army approaches.”
“So I’ve seen.” The general gave him an appraising look but saluted crisply, as did his dwarves.
“Your Majesty. General Aleem at your service.”
“Excellent timing, sir.” He returned the salute. “I was about to send for a commanding officer, but you saved me the trouble.”
“How may we serve?”
“One moment and I’ll explain.” Farrell turned to Greigel. “Lieutenant, send word to the ambassadors from Colograd and Fracturn and have them escorted to Haven’s council chambers. The senior staff is convening there as we speak.”
“At once, Your Majesty.” The dwarf snapped to attention and barked orders Farrell barely heard.
“I’d like you to join me as well,” he said to Nerti. “Not just in my thoughts but actually there.”
“I would have asked had you not invited me.”
Several guards took off at a trot, and Farrell motioned for Greigel to lead the way. “General, you heard where we’re going. I’d ask you to come with me. If you think anyone else is needed, send one of your dwarves with one of my guard and have them meet us there.”
The general banged his hand on his chest plate. He gave two names to a soldier, and Greigel motioned toward one of his guards. The pair marched off, and everyone else waited for Farrell.
“Let’s be off, then.”
Before joining Miceral, Farrell detoured to retrieve the Eye from his room. He’d sent all but Greigel and two guards on ahead. The guards hesitated at the doorway. Farrell motioned twice before they entered his rooms.
Although he expected to need the Eye, his real motive was to speak to Lisle. The guards moved awkwardly into his bedroom while he found the pants he needed. As he half expected, Lisle appeared before he had to find her.
“Why are these soldiers in your bedroom?”
Farrell ignored the question and did his best to keep his voice calm. “Where are the children?”
“What? Why?” She searched his face. “What’s wrong?”
He refused to let her sidetrack him. “Lisle, where are the children?”
“They’re in the playroom with the girls.” Her gaze never left his face. “You’re scaring me, Farrell. What happened?”
“Nothing . . . yet.” He moved to the corner of his room with the permanent Door. “I want you to prepare clothes and food for all of you and put it by this Door.”
He felt guilty making plans to save his family and not everyone else, but unless he misunderstood the signs, Geena was his replacement if something went wrong.
Lisle grabbed his shoulder and tugged at him. “Farrell, what is happening?”
The guards gasped, and Farrell held up his hand to keep them from moving closer. “It’s fine.”
Greigel kept the dwarves back, but they all kept wary expressions.
He’d heard the panic in her voice and felt tears well at the edges of his eyes. Now he understood the terror his mother must have felt when Meglar attacked the Source in Yar-del.
“Freeing the dwarves allowed Meglar to locate Trellham.” She knew this already, so he started with it to help keep his voice even. “He’s sent an army to Arvendia that is heading north. Right now it appears the goal is Trellham and that he doesn’t know Haven exists.”
Though rattled at first, the iron-willed matron he’d known most of his life reasserted herself in short order. She’d do what he needed even if the hordes of Neblor were at the door.
“This Door will take you and everyone with you to Kel’s house in Dumbarten.”
“I thought they didn’t know we were here.”
“We don’t know for sure. If this Door activates, it means I’m dead.” She sucked in a breath, and Farrell refused to look her in the eye. “If that happens, you, the children, the girls, and anyone else you can take with you are to leave immediately. No questions, just go. Miceral, Kel, anyone else who survives will be able to find you. Better to go first and check later.”
He finally looked up, and Lisle’s steely façade was ready to crack. Taking her hands in his, he kissed them. “You’ll be fine. Markus and Penelope will know what to do if you show up. Make sure you’re the last to go through. Once you cross the threshold, the Door will close, and the spell will unravel.”
“Farrell—”
He held up his hand. “Promise me that no matter what else, you will take the children to safety. They’re going to need you even more than I did. I want . . . need to know they’ll be safe no matter what.”
Tasked with saving “her babies,” Lisle let go of her objections. “Of course. I’ll make sure they’re safe. You have my word.”
A tear slid down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. He’d never noticed her age before, but in that moment, she looked older than her years. Leaning closer, he bent down and kissed her forehead.
“Don’t worry about me. I don’t plan on going anywhere.” He tried to laugh, but it stuck in his throat. “I told you once I was going to pay that bastard back for everything, and I will. But I need to be sure Geena and Bren are safe if something happens.”
“I understand.” She cupped his face with her hands and kissed his cheek. Before she let go, she moved closer to his ear. “You take care of yourself, you hear?”
Farrell wrapped his arms around her. In that moment she was as much his parent as his mother had been. “I will, Lisle. I promise you.”
He let her go and turned to avoid seeing her cry. Though it hardened his resolve, it was too painful to see. Nodding to Greigel, he pointed toward the front door. “I have another permanent Door in the vestibule.”
Magic was neither common nor considered desirable to a culture based on craftsmanship and hard labor. The guards, however, didn’t voice an objection when he opened the Door to bring them just outside the council chamber.
Greigel pulled him aside once he’d closed the Door. “I can ask Jagwin to assign a few guards to help them if you think it prudent.”
Farrell nodded. “Let me check with Miceral first, but unless you hear otherwise, make those arrangements.”
One of the guards opened the door to the council chamber, and the group’s conversation assaulted Farrell’s ears. Everyone went silent when he entered. He nodded politely but kept his eyes on Miceral. He’d told his partner in advance what he planned to tell Lisle, and Miceral knew instantly he’d taken care of it. He gave Farrell’s hand a squeeze when they met.
“It’s done. She knows what to do.” Farrell squeezed back and pushed the memory aside. Fear crippled, and he couldn’t afford that. His family, Haven, all Nendor couldn’t afford him to fear.
Haven’s military consisted of forces from all the conquered kingdoms. Culled from each nation were commanders familiar with their troops and their style of fighting. These generals reported to Farrell and his command staff.
Prior to Clement’s death during the battle for Respital, the former king of Endor led the military. All who knew Clement respected the man for his intelligence and leadership. No one doubted his ability to lead the troops. His passing left a void Farrell felt ill-suited to fill.
Jursten excelled at governing, not leading troops. Early in his life, both he and his father recognized this. His ability to organize and keep track of all the disparate facets of court life proved essential time and again.
Corvis of Respital was a fat, lazy man whose own people barely tolerated him since their kingdom fell. Annoyed at the constant whining and demands for goods and services Corvi
s made, Farrell had relegated the man and his family to the far northern reaches of Haven. Rarely did Corvis get invited to offer his opinion on anything. Only Farrell’s refusal to support his removal from the throne prevented Respital’s military from deposing their king. For everything that mattered, Farrell relied on Duke Bendict to represent Respital. Corvis objected once and was told if he did so again, he and his few supporters would be sent to Zargon with Farrell’s compliments.
The leadership of Arvendia was fractious and hard to determine in the best of times. A kingdom in name only, Arvendia was actually a collection of tribes that banded together to defend their borders and little else. The yearly gathering of clan chiefs was a raucous event more prone to duels and blood feuds than actually accomplishing anything. The council of chiefs ruled the nine tribes of Arvendia. The chief of the largest tribe, Clan Dargent, headed the council. In practice Chief Darg the twenty-seventh had no more authority than any of the other chiefs. In years past, if Farrell wanted the support of Arvendia, he’d needed to invite all nine chiefs to ask each in turn for their aid. Nerti ended that necessity by appearing at a tribal council and declaring herself Queen of Arvendia.
By requiring all nine chiefs to swear allegiance to her, Nerti was able to unite the tribes under her rule and appointed Darg to act as her first warlord. To avoid strife and dissension among the other tribes, she appointed the other eight chiefs warlords, who would lead their soldiers in her name. This arrangement pleased the tribes as well as Farrell; Darg represented Arvendia, and the chiefs didn’t revolt.
Unfortunately neither Darg, Bendict, nor Jursten had the clout to lead the combined troops of Haven. Thankfully Horgon did. As leader of his people, he had the title and the experience needed. As a Muchari, none would challenge him personally. Given his wealth of battlefield experience, his opinion carried great weight. His serving as first minister for the last year had also made people accustomed to listening when he spoke.
Typically before a battle, Farrell would have put together a force and avoided a meeting with all the kingdom’s leaders. Today, however, he couldn’t do that. The impending attack on Trellham signaled a shift in the war. Soon they would openly challenge Meglar, hoping to draw him to Haven. For that to happen, Horgon and Miceral needed to see how the different pieces of their army fit together. They planned to use this fight to see if their ideas worked.
Everyone he expected had arrived before Farrell. They stood in small groups, and Farrell was about to call the meeting to order when he noticed Cylinda standing near Rothdin and Hesnera. She actively avoided him, which only made her more obvious. Rather than confront her now, he nodded his thanks and moved to the front of the room to join Horgon.
Everyone took a seat at the round table except Kel, who sat in a chair against the back wall.
“Not joining us, Grandfather?”
“As I keep telling you, my time has come and gone. It is for others to handle this crisis.”
The notion that Kel was going to sit back and not offer his advice was improbable. Farrell knew this was his grandfather’s way of reinforcing that Farrell was in charge, not Kel.
“Do we have an estimate on how many Chamdon are headed our way?” Horgon asked. His calm effect helped soothe Farrell’s anxiety.
“I don’t. My scrying spell was banished before I could get a count.” Farrell looked to his mentors.
“We weren’t able to see them, but the detection spells indicated a small army.” Erstad glanced at Wesfazial. “Maybe ten thousand.”
“I ran a simulation, and based on the Door size, the amount of time it was open, and how long they tripped the detection spell, I’d put the number between seven and ten thousand.”
Farrell had expected the army to be larger. Not because he’d seen more, but that number didn’t sound like enough to launch an invasion.
“Not a full army but more than enough to test our response,” Horgon said. “How did they open a Door this close to Haven?”
“It’s not that close,” Farrell said to no one in particular as he stared at the surface of the table.
“Less than two days away isn’t close?” Miceral asked.
“It’s only two days because of how fast a Chamdon can move.”
Everyone began talking at once, and Farrell lost track of the conversation. Horgon did his best to keep order, but each new fact prompted new discussions. Farrell remained silent and focused his thoughts on the leader of the army. Vedric had died undertaking a doomed mission for their father. This one seemed just as ill-fated as the attack on Agloth. He wondered if whoever led this attack knew what had happened to Meglar’s son. Or was this another half sibling of his, bent on proving their worth to their father?
“What do you think, Farrell?” Horgon asked.
Farrell looked up. “Sorry, I didn’t hear the question.”
“That is because you are not paying attention,” Wesfazial replied. “He asked what do you think.”
“What do I think about what?”
“When is the best time to plant crops on a snowy mountain?” Wesfazial’s quip drew a chorus of nervous laughs.
He glared at his mentor, annoyed at the mistreatment. “Please stop with the sarcasm. Most of you were talking among yourselves, and it was hard to follow all the conversations. What specifically did you want my opinion on?”
“You’re correct. There were too many conversations going at once.” Horgon stared at the room. “I wanted to know what you were thinking. You seemed deep in thought.”
“I was trying to make sense of the size of the force and who is leading it.”
“And did you come to any resolution on either?”
Everyone was silent. Farrell shook his head, stood, and walked over to the map of Ardus hanging on the wall. “Vedric attacked Agloth with nothing close to enough troops to take the city. This assault also seems to have no hope of succeeding. There is no logic to this attack.”
“Why not?” Erstad asked in a way Farrell recognized as inquisitive and not discounting the suggestion.
Farrell glanced at Kel and got a headshake for an answer. “Brezlaw escaped the defeat at Agloth. While I can’t rule out Meglar wanting to kill his offspring to avoid dynastic ambition, it seems improbable that Brezlaw didn’t tell Meglar what transpired. He has to know the dwarf nations are on the move, that Dumbarten is now involved, and that there are powerful wizards moving about to thwart his ambition. This force he sent can’t hope to succeed. So why send it only to see it annihilated?”
“You assume Vedric and Meglar knew what they would find when they reached Agloth.” Kel stood as he spoke. “There was nothing to suggest the people of Ze’arder were free, or the combined might of Fracturn and Colograd would aid Seritia.”
“And Trellham is nothing more than a defeated city to Neldin and His followers,” Cylinda added. “Why should Meglar assume we have an army hidden inside the mountains just a few miles to the north?”
“You make good points, but considering the nature of a Chamdon and what it takes to create them, sending them on a suicide mission seems a terrible waste of resources.”
“How do you know this is a waste of resources?” Kel asked. “Do you know what his purpose is with this attack?”
“No.” Farrell shook his head. “And that’s what unsettles me. This feels wrong.”
“Yes, it does.” Kel inclined his head slightly and smiled. “But we still need to organize a response despite our misgivings.”
Kel raised an eyebrow over his piercing blue eye. Everyone waited for direction from Farrell. “We do, but I’m hesitant to say we march out and meet them if this is a trap.”
“Do we know for sure his force is too small to succeed?” Darg asked. His answer to this would be the same as for every problem: fight.
“You should use the Eye to determine the size of our enemy,” Klissmor said.
No one reacted to the comment. Most were still talking about Darg’s suggestion. Farrell nodded toward his friend.
“Thank you.”
“Of course, Chosen.”
While the others ignored him, Farrell slipped the Eye from his pocket and moved closer to the table. Everyone stopped speaking when he held up the Gift. “The first step is to accurately measure their numbers. Give me a moment to prepare, and I’ll show everyone what I’m shown.”
Farrell raised his legs and hovered behind his seat. Before asking the blue gem to show him Meglar’s army, he cast a spell so the others could see as well. Focusing his will on the enemy, he made his request.
Hundreds of shod feet running appeared over the table. Farrell ignored the comments and Kel’s admonishment to be quiet. He ordered the Eye to show him more. The image moved backward and stopped a few dozen feet in front of the running monsters. Although the point of view was higher and positioned in front of the army, it was only eight or ten soldiers wide.
He directed the Eye to move higher and farther back until the entire force could be seen. The image zoomed away until a swarm of Chamdon loping across the fields hovered over the table. Unchanged humans riding frightened horses brought up the rear. Farrell held the image to allow his companions to estimate their enemy.
Satisfied he’d given them enough time, he moved his sight over the top of the enemy to find whoever led the attack. A black war chariot, pulled by two horse like creatures from Neblor, trailed the army of monsters. Holding the reins was a soldier, but it was the man standing behind them that caught Farrell’s attention.
Tall and gaunt, the man wore all black that contrasted sharply with his pale skin. The black metal helmet with a dragon’s head atop hid the man’s hair. A staff bound at various points with pitted iron bands stood in the slot reserved for spears. Circling the top of the staff, resting in three-inch iron spikes, was a blotchy black stone. The wizard grasped the side of the carriage to steady himself. Whoever he was, this was not a half sibling at least.
He let the image dissolve and looked up. Erstad, Wesfazial, and Cylinda whispered to each other, but everyone else looked at Farrell. “Does that help?”
“Yes.” Horgon drummed his fingers on the table. “Unless there is something we didn’t see, we should be able to defeat them.”
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