The suggestion to ask Master Baylec sparked an idea. “Let’s try again, and this time, don’t hold back.”
“What are you planning?”
“During my training, Baylec said fighting requires more than just the eyes. You can hear the movement of a weapon or feel the way someone moves. When your focus is absolute, the mind unconsciously processes what the senses detect.” He picked up his sword and closed his eyes. Swinging the blade, he listened to it cut the air. “I’m certain time doesn’t slow down. That means something allows me to process sensory impulses much faster than normal. The key is to find the trigger.”
“Sounds logical.” Miceral picked up his sword. “Though I’m not sure how to help you.”
“Humor me.” Farrell assumed a fighting stance. “Aim for my body. If I’m wrong, my armor will take most of the force.”
Although Farrell knew the blow would be to his torso, Miceral didn’t signal where his attack would land. The sword’s movement appeared sluggish by Miceral’s standards. That made it slow enough for Farrell to deflect. As he pushed the sword aside, he twisted and lashed out with a hand strike they’d practiced for months. Miceral hesitated for a moment before he blocked the blow with his hand.
“By the Six!” Miceral said and took a step back. “You move faster than me. I wasn’t expecting such speed.”
“But you turned aside my attack.”
“Barely, and that was sheer reflexes.” Miceral shook his head. “I thought you had me for a moment.”
“What do we do now?”
“Go again!” Miceral said with renewed excitement.
“How did I not know that would be your answer?” Despite his words, Farrell stepped back and assumed a fighting stance.
The ring of swords clashing carried across the empty fields. Even with his new talents, Farrell was still overmatched. Miceral moved a bit slower than Farrell, but that didn’t level the field. The skill and agility Miceral possessed overwhelmed Farrell time and again.
They started another round, and Miceral attempted a sweeping side kick. Farrell leaped to avoid the boot and ended up almost ten feet above ground. With his legs flailing, he landed with a thud on the dusty field.
“That was graceful.” Farrell wiped dirt from his face as Miceral laughed.
“It’ll take practice to master your new abilities. It’s like learning to fight all over again.” He helped Farrell to his feet. “Otherwise, how do you feel?”
“A bit tired, but I’ve been busy this week, and I woke up in Dumbarten today.” He retrieved his sword and stuck it into the dirt. “Were you able to follow my movements?”
“Yes, but it took more concentration than normal. It felt like the first time I sparred with Baylec.” He plucked Farrell’s sword from the ground. “I think we’ve had enough for today. The children will be excited to see you.”
“I’m anxious to see them, too. I brought—” The sound of magic in the vicinity caught his attention.
“What’s wrong?” Miceral asked.
Farrell held up a hand and then knelt. He placed his left hand on the ground and searched for the source. “I heard magic being used . . . sort of. It was more like an echo, not someone actually working magic.”
“Is that possible?”
Farrell raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we cover this?”
Miceral laughed and shook his head. “You know what I meant.”
“I do, but the answer is I don’t know what I sensed.” Farrell turned his gaze south toward where the sound had originated. “I felt it once before on the other side of the mountains. Nerti and I were on Gharaha, and I’d just finished working on the spells. Whatever it is, it feels wrong. That’s the best way to describe it.”
“That’s disturbing. Do you want to investigate?” Miceral asked.
“No.” Farrell shook his head. “I’ve only felt it twice, and both times I’ve been overly tired. It’s more likely than not this is something I’m imagining. Before I waste time chasing ghosts, I’d like to talk to Kel.”
Miceral frowned.
“What?” Farrell asked.
“Don’t you see what you just did?”
“What did I do?”
“Whenever you need something, you turn to Kel. You ignore Heminaltose, Sanduval, and your mother as if they were novices. I’m not sure that’s wise.”
Farrell wanted to protest but kept quiet to consider the accusation. A year ago he’d have given anything to have his mother and old masters back to turn to for advice. Now he didn’t even think of them when he had a question.
“You’re right,” Farrell said. “I think part of it is they still look like Erstad and Wesfazial. As for my mother, she was so busy with the war that I never brought questions like this to her, only to Heminaltose.
“But it’s more than that. Kel and I touched on this topic earlier today. This might be hard to explain, but I find them both stifling. They are slow to try new things or look at things in a different way. At least after I explain something to Kel, his first words aren’t ‘wait and let’s talk about this until you’re a century old.’”
“Farrell . . .”
“I know. If it makes you feel better, Kel disagrees with my assessment.” He reflected back on his interactions with his masters. “Have I really mistreated them?”
Miceral shrugged. “I’m not there all the time when things arise, but you never suggest going to them for advice. It’s always Kel.”
“You’re right.” He held out his hand for the swords and sent them back to the weapons room. “Let’s go home. I want to see the children.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Farrell grabbed the pillow with both arms and buried his head deeper into the feathery interior. The sheets slid back, leaving his bare torso exposed to the cool air.
“That isn’t going to work,” Miceral said. He pulled the sheets completely off the bed. “We promised to meet everyone by eighth hour.”
“Who schedules meetings for eighth hour?” It was his first full day back from Rastoria and he’d planned to sleep late. At least he had until Kel told him about the meeting he’d arranged.
“Normal people who expect to get work done,” Lisle said from beyond their door.
Farrell lifted his head from the pillow. “Nice to see you again, too, Lisle. I don’t know how I made it through my day without your happy greetings.”
“Oh dear me.” She poked her head into their room. “His Royal Highness is particularly grumpy today. Maybe I’d better come back after tenth hour instead.”
Miceral cleared his throat. “Now that you’ve said you missed each other in your own odd and insane way, can we focus on getting moving?”
Farrell’s pillow struck Miceral a half second before Lisle’s feather duster.
“Odd and insane, am I?” She waved the duster at him. “Let’s see how well you manage without me when I retire. Then you’ll see what insane is.”
They both laughed as the outer door to their suite slammed shut. Miceral bent over to retrieve the pillow. “All kidding aside, it’s time to get moving. Bath, food, see the children, and then we’re off to our meeting.”
“Yes sir, Sergeant Major!” Farrell rolled off the bed and a pillow struck him full in the face.
“Hey!”
“You left it on the floor. I figured you’d want to put it back on the bed before Lisle comes in to clean.”
“Not sure if I should be mad or grateful.” Either made him happy to be home.
He quickly bathed and got dressed. As the pair started to eat, the children came running into their room. Farrell scooped Geena into his arms and kissed her continuously. She giggled and squirmed but made no real effort to get away. Bren saw his sister getting all the attention and wiggled his way onto Farrell’s lap. He tickled the children until Miceral gave him a look.
Now that he had them wound up, it took multiple attempts to get them to sit still long enough to eat. Finally they decided food was interesting.
“So, Geena, how do you like your new school?” Farrell cut some fruit and put it in her oatmeal.
Geena wrinkled her face. “It makes my head hurt.”
Farrell glanced at Miceral but otherwise gave no outward reaction. He tightened his shields to prevent any emotional leakage. “What does? Going to school or the things you do there?”
“Going.”
As a child, Farrell disliked school and would use any excuse he could with his nanny to avoid going. None of them ever worked, but Geena was different. “Did you tell Master Heather?”
Geena shook her head. “She wasn’t there.”
“Did you tell any of the other teachers?”
She shook her head again.
“Sweetie, it’s very important you tell someone when your head hurts,” Farrell said gently. “They can make the hurt go away if you tell them.”
“Can’t you do it for me, Papa?”
He added some honey to her breakfast. “Maybe, but I’m not as good as they are.”
“Yes you are!” She nodded vigorously. “Grandpa says you’re the best.”
Farrell dipped his spoon into her bowl and stirred. “Grandpa didn’t mean I was the best healer. He meant something else.”
“Am I gonna be a healer, too?” Geena took a heaping spoonful and put it in her mouth.
“When you’re older, yes.” He took a boiled egg from the bowl and started to peel. “But right now, they’re teaching you how to use—”
“Emfaney?”
He and Miceral snorted. He was glad he hadn’t taken a bite as Miceral spat food onto the table, then coughed uncontrollably. “That’s right, sweetie, but it’s pronounced ‘empathy.’ And it can make your head hurt if you don’t tell your teachers.”
“Can you come with me and tell them?” she asked hopefully.
“Not today, sweetie. Grandpa Kel wants to meet this morning.”
“Oh.”
Her lip trembled and she scooted closer. Looking around like he was trying to see if anyone was listening, he cupped his mouth near her ear. “Don’t tell Grandpa Kel, but I don’t want to go to his silly meeting. I want to go back to sleep.”
Geena giggled and returned to her breakfast. “Miss Lisle says you sleep too much.”
“Does she?”
“That’s right, Geena,” Miceral said. “He does sleep too much.”
“I do not,” he said, trying to play along.
“You do sleep a lot when you’re home, Papa.” Her face was serious as she nodded.
“I know I do,” he said. “Using magic makes me tired.”
“Does it make everyone tired?” Oatmeal dripped from her spoon onto her nightgown.
Farrell used a napkin to wipe up the spot. “If you use a lot of magic, it does. Being a healer can also make you tired.”
Geena finished chewing and shook her head. “Then I don’t want to be a wizard or a healer.”
“Why not?” Farrell asked, amused by the certainty of her answer.
“I don’t like going to bed early.” Geena returned to her food as if they’d settled the matter. “If I become a wizard, I’ll have to go to bed early every day.”
Her ability to extrapolate concepts surprised Farrell. When Miceral laughed, Farrell did, too. Then Bren giggled, and finally all four of them were laughing so hard, no one noticed Lisle had entered the room until she snorted.
“You’re supposed to be feeding them, not telling them jokes.”
“Yes ma’am.” Farrell winked at his daughter, and they all laughed again. “C’mon, sweetie, finish up or I’ll be in trouble with Miss Lisle.”
Twenty minutes later, Farrell and Miceral collected Kel and went to their meeting. With each step Farrell grew more anxious. He knew it wouldn’t go well, and he was tired of all the drama surrounding his actions.
His mentors didn’t disappoint him. The conversation mirrored the one they’d had with Penelope and Marisa. It amazed him that everyone focused on the trip to Yar-del City. Even the fact Neldin had spoken to him didn’t get as strong a response. Finally he’d had enough and left to go to weapons practice.
Farrell emerged onto the practice field and heard the sound of sword on sword and men shouting instructions. Baylec held up his hand to pause the action. After sending the students to get water, he walked over.
“Good morning.” Baylec nodded politely. “I didn’t realize you were back. Was your journey successful?”
“It was eventful.” Farrell closed his eyes and summoned his dwarf-made armor.
“That kind of answer usually requires a story or three.” Baylec glanced down at Farrell’s armor. “Are you going somewhere formal?”
Farrell shook his head. “No.”
“That’s it? No?”
Farrell missed the joking nature of the reply. “No, I’m not going anywhere formal. I came to practice with you.”
Baylec’s smile faded. “Is something wrong? Normally you’d have told me what happened by now.”
“Let me give you a rough overview while I change. Then I just want to exercise for a while to burn off some anger.”
Baylec raised both eyebrows. “I’m listening.”
“I guess it’s best to begin at the beginning.” He pulled his shirt over his head and recounted his trip.
“Miceral?” Farrell called out as he exited his workroom.
“Great gods above!” Lisle emerged from the hall to their bedroom. “What have you been doing?”
“Weapons practice.” He searched behind her. “Is Miceral here?”
“You need me to tell you?” she said with a note of sarcasm. “What happened to the silent-talking thing you two do?”
“We did that before I left the practice field. I expected him to be home before me.”
The door opened and Miceral came out.
“One of our guards stopped me on the way back. He said he saw you and Baylec fighting like it was for real. Was there a problem?”
“No, we’re fine.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“If you two will excuse me,” Lisle said, “I need to make sure the girls have finished cleaning the rest of the suite.”
“So what happened?” Miceral scrutinized Farrell. “Vregar said you looked like you were trying to kill each other.”
“I suppose in a way we were.” Farrell shrugged and headed for the bathing chamber. “Baylec suggested my talents might kick in if I was in battle or battle-like conditions. So we called an extra healer, and he attacked without restraint.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Maybe, but it worked.” Farrell peeled off his wet tunic and pants and noticed several angry, red welts. “Well, it mostly worked.”
“Mostly.” Miceral touched one, and Farrell winced.
“It required a few blows before I took it seriously.”
“Just a few.” Miceral retrieved some towels.
Farrell filled the tub and slipped under the hot water. “That feels good.”
“How could Baylec simulate battle conditions when you knew he wouldn’t seriously hurt you?”
“That was a problem at first. After he dealt me a few stinging blows, I got angry. He told me if I wanted him to stop, I’d need to make him and then found another exposed spot to hit me.”
Miceral laughed. “That sounds familiar.”
“When he launched his next attack, it happened again. He didn’t move as slow as the Chamdon in Bowient, but I could follow it well enough to parry it and counterattack. I caught Baylec off guard and managed to land a solid blow.”
Miceral raised an eyebrow. “You hit him?”
Farrell nodded. “Several times, actually. Once the healer had to examine his arm to be certain it wasn’t broken.”
“That would explain why Vregar thought you were trying to kill each other—you were.”
“If we were, I’d be dead. He’s so much better than I that he must have landed ten for every one I snuck through his defenses. Fortunately neither of us was seri
ously injured. We stopped a couple of times for me to try to turn it on at will.”
“Could you?”
“Yes.” Farrell dunked his head and grabbed soap to wash the sweat out of his hair. “It took a few tries, but if I concentrate hard enough, it works.”
“How long did you fight?”
“For about an hour. We stopped when he felt I was too tired.” Farrell rubbed his back. “I tried to avoid a blow and landed wrong. Baylec took advantage of my stumble and struck me across the back. The blow knocked the breath from me and shattered the end of his staff.”
“Shattered his staff?”
“Yes. Sent splinters everywhere.” Farrell stood up, and the water in the tub rose with him. It surrounded him in a spinning column. Once he was sure he’d rinsed off all the soap, he pulled the water from his body and returned it all to the tub. He even cleared the space around his feet so he was completely dry when he stepped out.
“Neat trick.” Miceral tossed him a towel.
Farrell wrapped the towel around his waist. “It’s good practice, and it saves me from having to dry off.”
“You can be so lazy sometimes.”
“Didn’t you hear the part about it being good to practice my control?”
Miceral leaned back against the wall and smirked. “I did, but I’m sure that’s a justification for being lazy.”
“After the session I just had, you can call me lazy?” He walked over and kissed Miceral. “Think of it this way—I saved my energy for something we can do together.”
“If you’ve got enough energy for that, I need to speak to Baylec about training you harder.” Miceral grabbed his hand and led them out of the chamber. “Just make sure you seal the room. Lisle and the others are still in the apartment.”
“Why do each step separately?” Farrell asked Kel.
“Because that’s how it’s done.” Kel’s teacher-quality tone never sat well with Farrell. But since it was just the two of them, he didn’t get too cranky.
Farrell put the book down. “That’s not a good answer. It would be easier if I stayed connected to each line of the spell. Then I could tie them together while they’re all active.”
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