Forty-Two
After Seritia barred him from recovering the chest, Farrell returned to Haven and briefed Kel on what had happened. His grandfather suggested they spend more time reviewing the things they’d recovered from Yar-del. Farrell doubted that would make him “ready,” but he agreed as he was eager to learn what Kel had in his collection.
Kel’s trove was too big for Farrell’s workroom. Even if it had fit, Kel didn’t want to store it in a place others could access. Rather than bar his mentors from his workroom, Farrell offered to build a new vault. Kel agreed, but for the safety of others, he wanted to put it somewhere out of the way.
It took them a day to find a suitable location in a seldom-used corridor. For two days they worked to make the room as safe as the original one in Yar-del. First they created a permanent Door only they could use, and then removed the regular door. Anyone walking by wouldn’t know the room was there.
Farrell suggested a new twist to the defenses. Like most of Haven, the room needed magic to provide breathable air. He keyed the spell to only the two of them. If someone managed to find the room on their own, all the air would disappear.
“That won’t stop a wizard strong enough to find this place,” Kel said as Farrell finished the spell.
“Alone it wouldn’t,” Farrell said. “But it should provide a distraction, which our other defenses will make full use of.”
Farrell felt like a novice again as Kel wove the complex set of spells he’d devised for the original vault. Even Heminaltose, whose spell-casting talents were the stuff of legends, paled in comparison. He tried to absorb as much as possible watching his grandfather work.
“Don’t act like a peasant child gawking at a carnival wizard at Summer Festival,” Kel said. “This showy fluff is of no use to you in your fight with Meglar.”
“I thought I was an accomplished spell caster, but I’m a child compared to you.”
Kel’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “My dear Farrell, you’re not even a half century old. That’s the very definition of a child. I’m an established estate, worked for centuries. You’re still clearing the land you wish to plow.”
“Meglar wouldn’t last two minutes if he faced you.”
Kel lowered his staff and sat next to Farrell. “After millennia of practice, I’m able to do some things effortlessly that others can’t do at all. After centuries of repetition, this is hardly a strain. But it is nothing compared to fighting another grand master wizard.”
“I know, but the fight would be short.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Kel shook his head. “Krendrew wasn’t near the wizard Meglar is, and he almost killed me. Combat, as you know, isn’t always simple. The other side is fighting back, and the best-thought-out strategies rarely make it past the second step. Meglar would survive long enough for me to burn out.
“But you.” Kel smiled affectionately and rubbed the back of Farrell’s head. “You are special. I say that not because you are my descendant or you reminded me of Everard, but because you are truly a gift to behold. It does no good to compare yourself to me. I’m not your measure. The Six gave us different tasks. Mine was to gather, assemble, and make available as much information as possible. Yours is to use what I collected to defeat Meglar. For that you are more qualified than I.
“No wizard has achieved as much as you have by your age—none. Neither has anyone been asked to shoulder what you’ve been forced to take on.” He waved his hand around the room. “This is practice and repetition. Any master wizard given time could do what I did. Peering through time? Regenerating shielding? The defenses you have woven on the Plains of Gharaha? Those are feats most wizards would never have dreamt up, let alone mastered.”
Farrell smiled at the praise. “If we challenged him together, all of us—Mother, Heminaltose, Sanduval, you, and me—Meglar and his underlings would be swept away.”
“What you suggest is a full-scale wizard’s duel.” Kel shook his head. “I wouldn’t survive long enough to help you defeat him. I don’t have the strength left to wield the power needed for such a fight. Even before my fight with Krendrew, I wouldn’t have been up to that task. This battle is for the young. Only you can do this. And you will. Believe in yourself as I do.”
Farrell nodded, unsure how to reply. He knew he was strong—very strong—but he wasn’t in Heminaltose’s class, much less his grandfather’s. As Kel had said, in wizard years he was a baby. A powerful one, capable of great destruction if left unchecked. But he hadn’t come into his full power.
“But I have so much to learn.”
“Yes, Farrell, you do.” Kel smiled again. “That’s why I’m here.”
“I’m glad you are, despite your grumpy nature at times.” Farrell stood up to dance away from the swat Kel tried to land. He stuck out his tongue, and a bucket of water that wasn’t in the room a moment ago emptied on his head.
“Remember to never let your guard down around curmudgeonly old wizards,” Kel said as Farrell sputtered.
“Good advice.” Farrell collected the water and returned it to the bucket. He grabbed the pail by the handle and held his arm out. Kel flicked his right hand and it disappeared.
“Now that you’ve had your fun let’s finish here.” He used the staff to help him stand. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner you can scour the shelves for knowledge that will help you.”
Leaving his grandfather to rest in his room, Farrell fretted about how tired the work had left Kel. He’d done most of the labor-intensive tasks to spare his grandsire, but Kel was still tired. Farrell barely felt the effort. He eased the door shut and jumped when he found Jagwin waiting for him.
“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.” Jagwin’s voice held just enough mockery that Farrell shook his head.
“Am I so foppish that you mock me even in greeting?” He hadn’t meant to sound as harsh as he did, but he spoke before he had a chance to think.
Jagwin reacted as if Farrell had struck him with a war hammer. “No, Your Majesty. Of course not. You are the most honorable person I’ve had the privilege to meet. I apologize if my familiarity came across as mockery. It will not happen again.”
Farrell paused to collect his thoughts. After exhaling, he looked at the other guards in the detail. “Leave us, please.”
Doubt washed over their faces, and they looked to their captain.
“You heard His Majesty,” Jagwin said, and the pair saluted and marched off.
“Walk with me, please,” Farrell said.
When he was certain they’d put enough distance between themselves and the guards, he stopped again. “My comments were out of line, Jagwin. Please accept my apology.”
“Your Majesty, you never need to apologize to me. I’m your captain, not your equal.” The sincerity of his words stung Farrell.
“No, Jagwin, you are my friend. I’ve scant few real friends. You are among the handful I lean on. Usually I enjoy our banter, but today I’m not myself.”
Jagwin must have sensed his struggle and didn’t answer immediately.
“Kel is dying, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” The tears welled in his eyes as he gave voice to the words he’d never wanted to say. “As close as he and I are, I see the progress more than anyone. It cuts at me like a saber no shield can stop. Soon, like so many others I’ve loved, he will leave. That is the hurt you heard in my voice. Your comment was not out of line. I’m just feeling sorry for myself. So please accept my apology for the disrespect I gave you.”
Farrell held out his arm as he would to a friend. Jagwin studied his king’s gesture before he accepted. “As I said, Your . . . Farrell, there is naught to forgive. We all have bad days, but yours are so much worse than the rest of ours. You bear them with remarkable grace, Your Majesty. I sometimes forget the weight you carry.”
Farrell sniffed again and wiped the moisture from the edges of his eyes. “If you walk on eggshells around me after this, I swear by the Six, I’ll promote you to general. Or worse, I might mak
e you a minister.”
Jagwin laughed. “You wouldn’t dare do either. I’m too valuable where I am. Who would make sure you obey the rules of decorum?”
“Don’t tempt your fate.” Farrell grinned. “I can find a new captain. I can’t so easily replace my friends.”
“Fear not, Your Majesty.” He bowed foppishly, which on a dwarf was even more ridiculous. “Dwarves are like the mountains we love—solid and slow to change.”
“Good.” He tried to laugh but managed a smile. “Tell me, what brings you to Kel’s door in search of me?”
“Perhaps now isn’t the right time to discuss it.”
Unsure what he meant, Farrell stared blankly at Jagwin. If it had been an emergency, Miceral, Nerti, or Rothdin could have located him faster than Jagwin. “What could be so dire that we shouldn’t talk now?”
Jagwin avoided eye contact. “I came as a reminder, my lord.”
“Reminder?” Farrell asked. When Jagwin nodded, he knew. “The coronation?”
“Aye.” Jagwin frowned. “A certain high priest asked me to remind you to review the plans.”
Farrell laughed. “What did he do to coerce you into being his personal reminder?”
“It never hurts to have Khron’s high priest favorably disposed toward you,” he said. “You’re still young, but you’ll understand in time.”
“Gave you the stare, did he?”
Jagwin nodded. “What did that dwarf do during his time at Trellham? Practice his glare in a mirror? Where it comes to my duties, I can withstand most anything, but that dwarf could stop a charging horned bull with that look.”
“Three more days,” Farrell reminded himself as much as Jagwin.
“No, sire, it will not end there.” Jagwin shook his head. “Then he’ll begin his efforts to get you to move into the palace. Completing the coronation will only allow him to focus his scheming on the next item on his agenda.”
Farrell chuckled. “Have you seen his list?”
“Not yet, but I can find a way to steal a glance if you think it will help.”
“No, don’t risk his wrath. If moving to Trellham is his next item, I know a few high priests and priestesses who will help dissuade him of that notion. After he spends considerable time trying to persuade me first, of course.”
Jagwin raised a bushy eyebrow. “You’re wilier than you let on.”
“I never pretend to be anything. Everyone mistakes my good nature for naivety.”
“No, sire, no one ever mistakes you as good-natured.” Jagwin tried not to smile, but it forced its way out.
Farrell spent much of the next two days secluded in his new vault. Before he disappeared, he warned Miceral to find something important to occupy his time. If not, he’d be available when the inevitable request for more rehearsal arrived.
Frantic messages left with guards and others went unheeded or were politely declined. Aswick soon began terrorizing the staff before Jagwin stepped in as a buffer. He reminded the elderly dwarf Farrell and Miceral had duties beyond just Trellham. He then produced a letter from the kings and handed it to the priest. Aswick’s eyes nearly closed as his face tightened with every word. Crushing the document in his fist, he stormed off, followed by miserable temple guards. Jagwin and the other guards burst out laughing once the prelate was far enough away.
The night before the coronation, Farrell and Miceral summoned every available guard. They collected the children, their parents, siblings, Nerti, Klissmor, Kel, Heminaltose, Sanduval, Glendora, and several other leaders from Haven and made their way to Khron’s temple. The guards began to sing the moment they entered the city. They continued until they reached the temple.
The temple guards snapped to attention when they reached the main entrance. Miceral and Farrell led their entourage into Khron’s home. At the far end of the temple, Aswick ranted and gestured to a pack of harried priests.
“Father Aswick,” Farrell called out. “It isn’t polite to speak ill of one’s friends behind their back.”
His voice lacked any humor. After weeks of harassment, he and Miceral had run out of patience. They’d done their best to accommodate him and handle their other responsibilities. “We are here,” Miceral said. “We know our parts but are ready for one last rehearsal. After that we will retire along with our guests to the palace to rest for the night.”
Miceral agreed to use his position as Khron’s Servant if Aswick fussed at them too much. They hoped it wouldn’t come to that but were ready if needed. Father Aswick stared at Miceral, then Farrell and the others.
“The single most important day in Trellham’s history, and you both treat it as if it were just another event.” His face tightened even more than before.
“Nay, brother.” Glendora stepped forward. She had agreed to speak on behalf of the other clerics. “It is you who lacks perspective. Neither Trellham nor Khron may lay claim to either king. Farrell is chosen by all, Servant of Honorus and Arritisa and Champion of the Six. Miceral is Chosen of Seritia and Lenore in addition to being Khron’s Servant. Their duty is to the Six, not Trellham or you. What you name disrespect, others call following the will of the Six.”
“Might I suggest we go over the ceremony one last time so we can put the children to bed?” Kel’s voice echoed throughout the empty temple.
Other than to lecture the kings, Aswick had no reason to disagree. Finally he nodded.
“Places, everyone.” Aswick clapped his hands. “We will start with the entrance.”
“Papa!” Geena’s mental scream sent Farrell flying from the bed.
Miceral was a step behind as Farrell took a moment to find his bearings in the unfamiliar room.
“Papa!” The fear in her voice cleared his head, and he pushed open the front door. They ran past the startled guards and flung open the door across the hall. The bedroom was to the right, and he rushed in to find Geena sitting against the wall, her stuffed animal clutched to her chest.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Farrell struggled to keep the fear out of his voice. He held out his arms and extended his shields to envelope her. “Check on Bren.”
“I’m on it,” Miceral said as he quickly walked past them toward Bren’s bed.
Geena levered up and jumped into his arms. She squeezed so tight Farrell had to fight to keep his emotions from leaking out. He searched the room but felt nothing.
Sensing no danger, he relaxed enough to sound calm. “Sweetie, what happened?”
“Bren had a bad dream and he gave it to me.”
“His bedding’s all tousled, but he’s sleeping,” Miceral said. “I don’t see any signs of injury, so it’s probably just what she said.”
“Is it better now?” He felt Miceral move closer.
“Yes, Papa, Bren’s better.” She wiggled in his arms but didn’t try to get down. “You made it better.”
“I did?” He looked at Miceral. “What did I do?”
“When I called you, the bad dream went away.” This time she twisted so she could kiss him. “You always make things better, Papa.”
Hugging her tighter, he shrugged his eyes at Miceral. “Whatever happened appears to be over.”
“Would you be able to sense something dangerous?” Miceral’s face matched the concern in his voice.
“Impossible to know. I’ll ask my mother to check tomorrow. When we get back home, I’ll mention it to Master Heather.”
“What aren’t you saying?”
“Add another reason I will not live in Trellham.” Farrell stroked his daughter’s hair and kept tight control of his feelings. “Once this place crawled with the spawn of Neblor. Who knows what psychic echoes were left behind?”
“Are you feeling better now, sweetie?” Farrell asked gently.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded her small head. Putting her arms around his neck, she kissed him again. “Thank you, Papa.”
“Any time you need me, just call like you did, and I’ll come make things better.” He tucked her in and checked on Bren.
He slept soundly, and Farrell wondered if she was “healing him” without knowing it. Something else to ask Heather.
When they backed out of the nursery, the hallway was swarming with guards. Jagwin wore a nightshirt and carried his hammer in his hand.
“Is everything all right, Your Majesties?”
“Sorry we disturbed your rest, Captain,” Farrell said. “The children had a bad dream.”
Jagwin nodded and pointed to several guards. Out of habit he tried to slide his hammer into his belt.
Miceral snorted softly. “Next time you might want to find your weapon belt before you dash out.”
Jagwin eyed them up and down. “Says the king who ran out in nothing but his undershorts.”
He winked at Farrell, who had on the same thing as Miceral, and marched away.
“Thank you, Captain,” Farrell said. “Do you think this is anything serious?” Miceral asked as he led Farrell back to their bed.
Farrell crawled in first and held up the covers for his partner. “No, not really.”
“‘No’ or ‘not really’?” Miceral asked. “One is good. The other says it might not be good.”
“I couldn’t sense anything.” Farrell slid over so Miceral could hug him. “It was likely just what it seemed, a bad dream from Bren spilled over to his empathic sister. Once we get a moment, I’ll have Mother and Heminaltose check for intrusions.”
“If you’re comfortable there’s no danger, then we should get some rest.” Miceral wiggled around until Farrell fit comfortably against his chest. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”
“Thanks for the joyful reminder.” Farrell pulled the sheets up to his neck. “Gives me so much reason to look forward to getting up.”
Standing just inside the doors to the palace, Farrell resisted the urge to tug at his armor. Jagwin stood a pace in front, his head twitching everywhere. Occasionally he would bark an order to an officer to fix a minor flaw in the formation.
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 163