He still didn’t believe any of what Neldin said. “And You let Meglar believe I was dead so he’d take revenge on Yar-del and the world.”
“I could no more tell him what Honorus and My Siblings were planning than They can tell you what I do. Had I divulged Their deception, it would be construed as direct involvement. Unlike My fool of a Brother, I will not do anything that permits My Siblings to personally take action.”
“I’m sure You’d have found a way if it were in Your best interest to tell Meglar.”
Neldin’s face lost all hint of humor. “The prohibition against involvement is absolute. Even I would not tempt fate in such a manner. You may sleep soundly knowing I have not and will not tell My Servant your plans. Just as I know My Siblings will not tell you what I plan.”
“Then what do You really want?” Farrell had grown weary of their talk.
“As I said, I wish to talk to you,” Neldin said. “As the only descendant of both Vedri and Kel, you are the only person both sides may speak to without reprisals.”
“You think You can talk me into joining You?”
“Admirable as your loyalty to My Siblings is, it is nevertheless misplaced. They care nothing for you, only Their cause. Nor have They been honest with you as to Their intentions.”
Farrell felt himself being lulled into agreeing with Neldin. He hadn’t noticed the soothing effect in His voice until then, and it was a struggle to ignore it. “Forgive me if I’m skeptical of Your caring nature. My half-brother Vedric paid a steep price for following You.”
“Vedric’s death was regrettable but not of My doing.” Neldin appeared genuinely sad. “He was headstrong, ambitious, and eager to please his father. But never did I mislead him as those you choose to follow are deceiving you.”
Loath as he was to do what Neldin wanted, Farrell didn’t think He’d leave unless Farrell did as expected. “Yes, You said that already. Since it’s obvious You want me to ask, tell me how I’m being deceived by the Six.”
“Before I explain, I ask that you keep an open mind to what I’m about to tell you,” Neldin said, and Farrell fought to stave off the desire to agree. “It will challenge much of what you believe. But if you consider My words without prejudging them or Me, I’m confident you will see their merit.”
“I promise only to listen,” Farrell said.
“Everything you believe is built on the premise that the Six care about you and deal with you honestly.” Neldin spoke as if Farrell had agreed to consider his explanation. Farrell redoubled his efforts to fend off whatever Neldin was doing to his will. “Both suppositions are false. They do not trust you and worry you will betray Them. To prevent your betrayal, They are guiding you on a path that will end in your death.”
A short burst of laughter escaped Farrell’s efforts not to react. “They don’t trust me and are plotting against me? That’s the best You have to persuade me to join You?”
“Were you not so close to Them, your eyes would show you what is plain to everyone else. They only want you for as long as it takes to defeat your father. Consider, why did your mother and teachers fake their own deaths?”
“So I’d push myself to rely on only me. Had I remained in their shadow, I might never have reached my full potential in time.”
“A noble sentiment, but still a lie.” Neldin clasped His hands behind His back. “Think on this. Had Zenora and Heminaltose fled to Endor from Yar-del, they could have joined Sanduval and Clement. Victory at Yar-del took a massive toll on your father. Had they marched on Zargon immediately following the fall of Yar-del, Zenora might be Queen of Yar-del and Zargon.
“Instead they appeared to have died at Yar-del in an attempt to take your father with them. Your father recovered, grew stronger, and conquered Endor, Arvendia, and Respital. Their explanation is they realized they couldn’t defeat him. Does that really sound true? And even if it were true, was it prudent to just give up and not try? To disappear and wait for Meglar to conquer Endor and the other kingdoms before returning?”
“Meglar was too powerful for them and they knew it. They needed time to prepare,” Farrell said.
“Yes, the preparations at Gharaha.” Neldin smiled. “I’ll touch on that in a moment. They fled because of you. Not because you’re their hope, but because they feared what you were becoming. You are very powerful, and they were afraid you’d join your father.”
“That is absurd!” Farrell couldn’t contain his anger. “My mother, my master, and the Six allowed Meglar to destroy Yar-del and the other kingdoms to prevent me from learning from Heminaltose and Sanduval?”
“Precisely. Think. Use your mind for more than supplication to the Six. Their actions after Yar-del make no sense. See things through the lens of what I’m telling you. When you failed to kill your father, they grew afraid. Why did you fail? You had the power to succeed, yet you did not. Were you planning to join him? Had they foolishly trained someone who would become a bigger threat than his father? All these questions and more went through their minds when you failed to kill your father.”
“Stop calling him my father!” Farrell shouted. He immediately regretted the outburst when Neldin smiled.
“But he is, even if you deny it. And it matters a great deal, especially to them. As child of both houses you were—are—potentially more dangerous than Meglar.”
Farrell reminded himself this was Neldin speaking, but he couldn’t completely dispel His arguments. He’d always felt regret over his failure, and Sanduval never once questioned him, but did they wonder as Neldin said? Did they have doubts about his loyalties? Were they afraid of him? His actions toward the belcin and other instances of needless violence would feed into those fears.
“Finally you see the truth,” Neldin whispered. “They abandoned you so they didn’t help you grow more powerful. And they came back in disguise so they could keep watch on you in case they needed to take action.”
Since he trusted them, they’d be able to take him unaware if that had been their plan. “Your words ring hollow. If they were as concerned about me as You say, they could have killed me any number of times.”
“Indeed, but if they had killed you, there would be no one to fight your father,” Neldin said without any hesitation. “His threat was and still is also real.”
Farrell ignored Neldin’s continued use of father. “Now You want me to believe the only reason I’m still alive is so I can face Meglar. The same Meglar they’re concerned I’ll join.”
“Only you can face him. Only at Gharaha. Only after he comes to you.” Neldin ticked off the statements on his fingers. “Don’t you see what They are doing? Gharaha isn’t just a weapon to use against Meglar. It’s meant to kill you as well.”
Farrell shrugged. “I’ve always known using the weapon might kill me.”
“Might kill you,” Neldin said. “But the plan is that it will kill you. They want you to use the weapon and kill both you and your father at the same time.”
Farrell’s stomach tightened and his skin flushed. Was that really the plan? The weapon could only be used once, so he couldn’t test it or the shields he meant to use to protect himself. Was that part of the plan?
“Some other things to consider,” Neldin said when Farrell didn’t respond. “They had Kel keep himself alive to train you. Why? You’ve seen his power. Even weakened, he could defeat your father.”
“He can help me defeat my . . . Meglar.”
“He could, but then who would take out the real threat—the child of Vedri and Kel? Defeating your father would likely make him too weak to kill you when it was over. What good would it be to defeat your father when the true threat would still be alive?” Neldin stared pointedly at Farrell as he considered the points. “Kel is here to make sure neither of you survive Gharaha. And then there are Geena and Bren.”
A chill spread throughout his body when Neldin mentioned the children. “What about them?”
Neldin smiled again, and it added to Farrell’s fear. “Neither
is tainted by the blood of the House of Vedri. Once you are dead and Vedri’s stain is removed from the line of Kel, there are two ready successors on hand to maintain the House of Kel for Honorus.
“The desperate times you are in are nothing more than a manufactured crisis designed to eliminate all threats quickly and easily, while at the same time providing a plausible cover for Kel and his true descendants to maintain power.”
Farrell avoided Neldin’s gaze. Certainly there were elements of truth in what he said, but there were too many flaws in Neldin’s words. He couldn’t accept the Six were so callous that They would sacrifice all the lives lost so far just to create a situation where he and Meglar died at once. Or that Nerti would risk her life to help him just so Lenore could end it. Lenore and Seritia wouldn’t destroy Miceral to further some obscure plan.
“You’re good, but You’re twisting things to suit your needs,” he said. “I’ve listened to Your words. Can I go now?”
“We both know you did more than listen.” The soothing quality and affable demeanor vanished. “You might not believe everything I’ve said, but you see the truth in what I’ve shown you. I’m a patient God. Given what I’ve seen of your true nature, it’s just a matter of time before you serve Me.”
“Never.”
“Brave words, little Champion.” A bright aura surrounded Neldin, and for the first time He appeared more than human. “Goodbye, child of night and day. We’ll meet again soon to finalize what I know to be inevitable.”
Neldin disappeared in a flash so bright Farrell shielded his eyes. As he expected, he was alone when he could see again. Slowly he sank to his haunches, let go of his staff, and wrapped his arms around his knees.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Long night of drinking, lad?” The woman’s voice from behind startled Farrell.
An older woman in worn, homespun clothing stood a few paces away. Her shoes were barely serviceable, and she carried a patched and threadbare sack. Despite her modest attire, the woman’s steel-gray eyes sparkled and her smile was genuine. A circular comb held back her long gray hair.
Farrell sensed no threat, but Neldin had approached undetected, so he didn’t relax his defenses. He followed the woman’s eyes toward the pile of vomit he’d left beside the rickety-looking wooden structure.
“My apologies, ma’am. In my distress, I didn’t pay any mind to where I was.” He waved his hand and the mess vanished with a flash.
“Oh my! You’re a useful young man.” She smiled at him. “However, this isn’t my home, so you need not apologize to me.”
Farrell nodded and used his cloth to wipe the sweat from his face. “Still, it was rude of me to leave such a mess in your quarter.” Farrell’s heart beat faster. His inner sight still found nothing. To all appearances, she wasn’t wizard, healer, or priestess. Was this what Neldin’s avatar felt like?
“So what ails you, child? You don’t look sick—well, other than what you did to poor Emerus’s home.”
Her words sounded sincere. Had Neldin not just spoken to him, he’d never have questioned her true nature. Still…. “Nothing that won’t soon pass.”
“A cup of tea will help calm your troubled stomach.” She motioned for him to join her. “Come, I’ll brew some for you.”
“Thank you, m’lady, but I won’t trouble you so. In a few moments I’ll be fine.”
“Boys.” She chuckled. “I raised two of my own and you’re all the same. Quick to deny you need anything.”
“Really, I’m fine. My stomach revolted a bit, but it’s better now.”
“So you say.” She stepped closer and held out her hand. “Still, a bit of tea won’t hurt you. It’s the least I can do after all you did for us.”
Farrell had shifted his weight to move but stopped and leaned back. “What do you mean?”
“So distrustful.” She smiled again, and it melted some of Farrell’s suspicions. “You’re a temple wizard sent by Holy Falcron to defend the city from those creatures. What more is there to know?”
Temple wizard? He glanced down and realized he hadn’t changed out of the temple guard uniform. “Father Lingum deserves the credit for leading the defense. I played only a small role.”
“Father Lingum is a good man, that much is certain.” She closed the distance between them and took his hand. “But one person, no matter how strong, couldn’t have turned back whatever it was that attacked the temple. Everyone who fought that evil deserves our thanks. Since you’re the only one around, I’ll say mine to you.”
“Don’t thank me.” He stared at his boots. She’d recoil in fear if she knew he nearly murdered a helpless man.
“Whatever happened must have been terrible.” She rubbed his hand with her surprisingly strong fingers. “I didn’t see it, but I heard the awful sounds. Others said Neldin let loose the hordes of Neblor upon the temple.”
“He did.” Farrell kept his head down. “Neldin’s servants turned the people of Bowient into mindless creatures and sent them against Falcron’s home.”
“Oh my!” She squeezed a bit tighter. “I thought everyone was exaggerating. If you had to witness that, I can understand why you got sick.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It was not what I saw that made my stomach revolt. It’s what I almost did.”
She cupped his face in her hands and made him look at her. “Listen to me, child. War is a terrible thing. People do things out of fear or anger that they’d never do otherwise. Whatever you nearly did, take comfort in the fact you did not. ‘Almost’ means your better half prevailed.”
“I didn’t stop willingly. The . . . others stayed my hand.” He twisted his head to avoid her eyes. “Had they not, I most surely would have killed a helpless man after the battle had ended.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no, but since you didn’t, the only sure thing is we’ll never know.”
Though certain the belcin would have died by his hand, Farrell didn’t have the will to argue. “As you say, we’ll never know.”
She nodded once and drew him away. They walked in silence, and Farrell considered how best to get away from her. Despite her kindness, she made him uneasy.
“Evil deeds can invoke a terrible response in all of us. It’s how we deal with it afterward that matters.” She stopped walking before a sturdy structure that was more hut than house and motioned for him to step inside. Though sparsely furnished, the inside was clean and neat. A dark cloth covered the tiny window at the back of the room. Below it, a few embers flickered in a small brazier next to a scant pile of charcoal. Beside the window, an alcove contained various items in jars and bowls and a small iron kettle. The little pot appeared a luxury among her meager belongings.
“Ma’am, please.” He stopped when he realized he didn’t know how to address her. “I’m sorry, I’ve lost my manners and should’ve introduced myself long ago. I’m Farrell.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Farrell. I’m Anoria.” She crossed her arms across her chest and bowed.
Farrell returned the greeting. “Just Farrell.”
“Very well, Just Farrell. I don’t have a proper seat for you, but if you sit here, I’ll fetch you some tea.”
“Your generosity toward a total stranger is greatly appreciated, but save what you have for yourself.”
“Are you suggesting I am too poor to provide a cup of tea to a soldier in need?” Her tone, while sweet, dared him to confirm what she said.
Rather than try to stumble his way out of the situation, Farrell nodded. “Yes, Anoria, I am. Your kindness is touching and in many ways astounding, but I am more than I seem. I’m not a soldier in the temple of Falcron. I donned the uniform to avoid calling attention to myself. Keep all that you have and know that I’m touched by the offer.”
“I keep telling you I have more than enough.” She shook her head. “I’m going to make some tea—for myself. I’d be insulted if you made me drink alone.”
He smiled and knew he’d lost. “Truly you raised a son or
two. Only a mother can guilt someone with such ease. Rather than insult you, I’ll stay for tea.”
“I’m glad to hear your mother taught you manners.” She bent down to add coals to her fire.
The mention of his mother wiped the smile from his face. To keep from going down that path any further, he focused on the small brazier she stoked back to life. “Since you insist I accept your hospitality, at least let me spare you the use of your fuel.”
“Oh no you don’t.” She shot him a disapproving look. “I’ve been making tea for more years than you’ve been alive. Keep your tricks to yourself and leave the tea-making to me.”
Anoria put the briquette onto the fire and blew the ashes from the smoldering coals. She shook the iron kettle and placed it gently on the fire.
“Iron is a poor choice for cookware,” he said. “Copper conducts heat more efficiently and would save you fuel.”
“Perhaps so, but this is the kettle I have and it serves me well.”
He nodded but kept his focus on the kettle. “Copper will serve you better.”
A small pop accompanied a brief flash. The small iron kettle on the coals was gone, and a larger copper one rested in Farrell’s hand. Keeping it in his right palm, he focused his will on the contents of the kettle. When the water was at the boiling point, he handed it to her.
“I hope I didn’t overstep my welcome, but I’m certain you will find the new kettle much easier to use.”
“The Six bless me!” She reached out and took the kettle. “You are more than you appear.”
Anoria twisted her new kettle around once and put it back on the coals. She placed some tea leaves in a basket and set the mesh container in the water.
“It shouldn’t tarnish or pit if I handled the spell correctly. Consider it a small token of my appreciation for making me smile when I didn’t want to.”
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