“Remember, keep near me,” Farrell said. “Anything that targets you will not be able to penetrate my shields.”
“I’m not a child.” Matyhis didn’t hide his irritation. “Do you talk this way to everyone?”
“Neither was Samruel and he was injured behind full shields.” Farrell tamped down his frustration. “Imagine you’re going to fight Kel, because that’s what facing Meglar is like.”
Mentioning Samruel got his brother’s attention. “Mother mentioned Sam’s injuries came from the spillage. How is that possible?”
“No time to explain now, just stick to my side.” Farrell grinned. “Staying close will avoid my targeting the same wizard as you during the fight.”
Matyhis returned the smile. “Efficiency is a good trait. Before we start . . .”
Farrell arched a brow and let him continue.
“I want to thank you for what you did for Samruel,” Matyhis said. “Mother would be devastated if she lost him.”
“I would have been, too.” He cared more for Sam than any of his birth siblings. “I’m sure your mother will be just as shattered if something happens to you, so—”
Matyhis held up his hands. “I know, stay close.”
With a nod, Farrell turned his attention to their target. Low, wide, and made of stone, it could have been any warehouse in any city on Nendor. It had a few small windows near the roof and one door. Farrell found the usual protection spells and security to bar anyone not welcome. Nothing to warrant closer scrutiny.
Probing deeper, he saw much more. A cloaking spell had been woven into the general protections. If he hadn’t been looking for more, he’d have glossed past it. Below that were a bevy of combat spells reserved for a fortress or castle. Fighting through those would take time and energy. Fortunately, Farrell had other plans.
Kel and Beatrice had created near-total control over wizardry in much of Tilerstig. Magic worked—or didn’t—based on the status of the spells that blanketed the kingdom. If they were dormant, everything appeared normal. Turn them on and any high magic laid on top of them wouldn’t work. A wizard could still cast spells and raise shields but not lay any static defenses. Farrell had never seen anything like it before and probably never would again.
Farrell touched the spell and turned on Berstig’s hidden defenses. These were particularly cunning and brilliant. Their foe wouldn’t notice a change at first, but once Kel or his family attacked they’d be in for a shock. Defenseless, punchless, and distracted by trying to fix their failed magic—it should be a short fight.
He nodded to Matyhis, who gave the hand signal to begin. The three Stigerian wizards moved into formation. Kel had given each of them a metal cuff to place around their staff to interact with his spells.
As the trio took aim at the eastern wall of the building, Farrell created a globe between his hands. Matyhis put the tip of his staff close to the sphere and together they filled the ball. The energy swirled and strained to push the limits of its container.
Matyhis took his eyes off their efforts. “Enough?”
“Not yet.” Farrell tightened his hold on the globe. “It needs to take out everyone at once.”
More energy poured into the weapon, and Farrell inserted the final spell. He locked eyes with Matyhis, who pulled his staff back and joined the others. Farrell moved closer to the others, struggling with the sphere.
Four blasts of wizard’s fire raced toward the building. The lines merged just before they struck. Bereft of the shielding built into the stone, the wall exploded inward. Shouts of surprise and groans of pain filled the air as Farrell released his part of the assault.
The ball sped toward its target through the still-crumbling wall. A few wild and unfocused attacks flew out of the opening. Most missed the mark, but those that connected barely registered against Farrell’s shield.
A brilliant flash filled the warehouse, and bodies crumpled under the concussive blast. Farrell led the charge inside and searched for anyone still conscious. As expected, the mercenaries were unconscious. Two wizards were down and two remained on their feet. One leaned heavily on his staff. The other, Meglar’s relative, appeared steady but distracted.
Farrell made it through the opening and stood opposite the pair. He waited for Matyhis and the others to reach his side.
“Bind the two on the ground and take out the dazed one,” Farrell said without turning. “I’ll handle the other.”
The conversation caused the wizard to push aside everything else and focus on Farrell. His glare lacked the arrogance most of the house of Vedri carried with them. Instead Farrell saw fear. Matyhis used the moment to attack the shaky wizard. Meglar’s relative seemed about to assist his companion, but he hesitated when the tip of Farrell’s staff pulsed with power.
Matyhis’s “fight” was over after one round of spells. His assault shattered his foe’s weakened shield on contact. The feedback from its destruction ended the battle.
“You should surrender,” Farrell said. “It’ll be less painful—for you.”
The wizard squinted and stared at Farrell. “That will never happen.”
“Oh yes, you don’t want to make cousin Meglar angry.” He studied his opponent’s face and was reward with a flash of surprise. “Did you really think King Ervend would betray his family and his kingdom?”
“Now I know you lie.” He seemed more hopeful as he spoke. “We truth-tested that fool, and he was all too willing to sacrifice his wife and children to gain the throne.”
“And yet your armada is sunk—all of it—both armies of Chamdon were decimated in minutes, and you are the last fool standing.” Farrell ticked off the events on his fingers. “Even someone as slow-witted as Meglar can see he was tricked.”
“Impossible. I verified Ervend’s commitment myself.”
“Stupidity runs strong among Vedri’s descendants.” Farrell separated his staff and spun the ends around. “I tire of this. Surrender or prepare to die.”
There would be no surrender. Whatever hope the wizard clung to was stronger than his fear of Farrell and the others. The faith was misguided. Meglar didn’t care about losing a family member, especially if he could use their death to gain an advantage.
The first strike came without warning. It was a poor attempt at a spell Kel devised centuries ago and failed against Farrell’s shield. Three more attacks followed in rapid succession, all with a similar lack of results. Kel had devised three of the four spells used to attack Farrell and none had been properly cast.
Farrell flicked his wrist, and a barrage of golden energy slivers flew toward his foe. While they distracted the wizard, Farrell reached out for the dormant combat magic woven into the building. It only took a small tweak for Farrell to assume control over the array of spells.
“Matyhis, come closer.” He spared a glance to find the Stigerian wizards. “You three as well.”
The trio looked to Matyhis, and he motioned them to do as Farrell had asked. Another presence touched the spells, and Farrell pushed it aside. The shock on the Zargonian’s face shifted to fear when he realized his fate.
Magic flared to life around the room and the air exploded with energy. The assaults came from six different places, and no two were the same. Farrell admired the cunning way they were layered to exploit different weaknesses.
Even knowing what was coming, the wizard only stopped the first two attacks outright. The third spell, an energy leech, weakened the shields enough that the fourth attack burst it apart.
Farrell could have ended the fight, but he allowed the last two spells to engage instead. The first sprayed a sticky fire at the helpless, groggy man that slowly ate away his flesh. It would have killed him soon enough, but the last assault sent tiny pinpricks of energy into his body. These burned him inside out.
Seconds later his lifeless body hit the floor, the charred face contorted in a silent scream. A mirror of the horrific death these spells were meant to inflict. Matyhis gasped behind him.
“What did you do?”
Farrell ignored the accusatory tone. “I turned his spells on him.”
“Did you know they would do . . . that?”
“No.” Farrell made sure to turn the magic off. “I knew there were six and I knew they would overwhelm shields by attacking in different ways. But I didn’t know the killing strikes would be so . . .”
The spells he used against Meglar’s wizards in Arvendia were equally painful. He hadn’t seen anyone killed by them, but his victims had to have suffered like this man.
“Excruciating?” Matyhis asked.
Farrell nodded. “I should have killed him to end his agony.”
“Yes, Halloran, you should have.”
The dead body sat up, and Farrell jumped back. Matyhis stood frozen with his mouth open as if speaking. The others were motionless as well. When he turned back, the corpse was prone again and Neldin stood behind it.
“Remind you of a spell you once used?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “As you said, you could have ended his pain, yet you chose to let him suffer.”
Farrell offered no defense. Neldin baited him and he had no desire to play along. “Why do You continue to visit? I’m not going to join You.”
The dry, mirthless laugh unnerved Farrell. “Do you think I require an affirmative acceptance? Your actions are more illuminating than your words.”
“I’ll not serve You. My allegiance is to Honorus and the Six.”
Neldin flinched at the mention of His brother. “Again, mere words. If you were so committed to Them, why do you continue to act contrary to Their wishes?”
“Didn’t You tell me the Six are evil and planned to kill me if I defeat Your Champion?”
“And didn’t you tell Me They are not?”
Which meant nothing changed between them. “Again, I ask, why are You here?”
“Why do you persist with these inane games? You know the answer.”
Farrell knew what Neldin wanted him to believe the answer was, but there was more. Neldin’s sudden interest years after the war began concerned Farrell. Nothing happened by chance.
“Why do You persist? I already told You I don’t want to be Your Champion.”
“Have you not said the same to Honorus and My other siblings? Do They continue to force you into a role you don’t want?” Neldin paused. He gave Farrell a look that reminded him of when one of his teachers wanted him to figure out something obvious. “Can’t you see the truth? I ask you to join Me. They insist you do as you’re told.”
The Six did make it seem like he’d had no choice. Was Neldin’s approach different because His siblings chose first? It seemed unfair that Neldin could speak to him but the Six couldn’t approach Meglar. And how could Neldin try to take the Six’s Champion? It had to be possible or else why would He keep asking?
Once again, the gods withheld information and expected him to choose. “I choose to do as They ask.”
“As you say.” Neldin smiled condescendingly. “We will talk again soon, son of Meglar.”
Chapter Eighteen
Farrell blinked and Neldin was gone.
“Why?” Matyhis asked. “He planned to use those spells against my family and me. He got what he deserved.”
Farrell nodded but didn’t agree. No one deserved to suffer like that. Not even his enemies. “It doesn’t matter. Are the other three secure?”
“Yes.” Matyhis pointed to his fellow wizards. “Take them to the palace along with this corpse. Inform the queen so she can make certain they don’t escape and cause more trouble.”
One of the three responded, but Farrell didn’t hear the words. He encased the dead man in a jewel-like coffin and caused it to float in the air. Someone collected the body and left.
Matyhis gave an order to an officer to secure the mercenaries. The Stigerian soldiers gathered the fallen soldiers and laid them in a row along the side of the wall.
Farrell’s spell had shattered anything fragile inside the open space. It also upended everything not fastened to the ground.
“We should check to see if Kel and Tharles need help,” Farrell said.
“They do not,” Rojas said. “I’ve been in contact with Kel, and they have the other two in custody.”
Farrell nodded and walked out of the broken building. He ignored Matyhis’s question as he navigated scattered ruins. The entire attack on Tilerstig left him unsettled. He needed to speak to Kel before he spoke to anyone else.
Farrell shut the door and sealed his suite before joining Kel. His grandfather kept quiet as Farrell took the seat next to him.
“Neldin visited me again.” He didn’t look over.
“We’ve been over this before,” Kel said. “Why does this bother you still?”
“I think there is more to these attacks than we believed.”
“Which fights are we speaking of?”
“All of them, starting with Belsport.” They might extend further back, but he hadn’t the time to think on it. “In hindsight, none of them made sense, but I believe I see the purpose now.”
“You mean beyond the obvious?”
“Yes.” Farrell stood and walked to the open window. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled. “What if Meglar isn’t behind these raids?”
“Are you suggesting Meglar did not order them?”
Farrell nodded. “In the simplest sense he did, but he isn’t giving the orders.”
“You’ve lost me, Grandson.” Despite his words, he did not sound mocking. “Notwithstanding my comments that others are behind his strategy, Meglar is still in command.”
“Is he? As Mother has said many times, he’s not as stupid as some suggest. It felt as if we missed something when we tried to make sense of his actions. None of them had a chance of success, so why send them?”
“We can’t view things through the same lens we would use to decide our own actions. His disposable resources are much greater than ours.”
“Agreed, but he isn’t the one with the final say. Neldin is.”
Kel’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Farrell for a few seconds. “To steal your words, that is true in the simplest sense. Neldin can guide, but He can’t direct things in as much detail as you suggest.”
“Are we sure?” He turned his chair around so it faced Kel. Holding on to the top for a few moments, he let go, walked around, and sat. “Khron told me to free the dwarves. Seritia told me how many I had to take with me to Agloth and gave me a list of criteria for whom I could select. Falcron and Seritia stopped me from killing the Belcin. Those are specific directions, not just guidance.”
“Let’s accept that He is telling Meglar to send small forces to test specific enemy targets. Why is that significant?”
“Something Greigel said got me thinking. Don’t you find it suspicious that wherever we go, Meglar suddenly sends his forces? Belsport. That pirate ship. Agloth. Trellham. Bowient. Even those demons we encountered in Bendar. Now, at the precise moment we arrive in Tilerstig, he launches his attack on the kingdom. It’s too much to be coincidence.”
Kel nodded and processed what Farrell had said. Rather than wait for questions, Farrell pressed on.
“Some of those events we wrote off as fortuitous that we were there to stop them. Others, like at Bowient, we believed I followed a divine impulse from the Six. But Neldin’s last visit made me see a different possibility.”
“Again, why do you see the relationship as important?”
“So Neldin can speak to me when… after I’ve done something He can twist.”
“Possible. But He waited a long time before paying His first visit.”
“I can’t say why He waited until Bowient to speak to me. Maybe Agloth is tied too closely to Seritia. Seritia and Lenore appeared there, so perhaps that deterred Him.”
“No.” Kel shook his head. “By that logic, He couldn’t have visited you at Bowient. That is Falcron’s city, and the Twins both appeared to prevent you from losing yourself.”
“I don’t understand the connection, but there has to be one.” Farrell considered his next point. “Neldin used examples from Belsport and other places in His argument. Or maybe I didn’t do anything vile enough at Agloth, but I did at Bowient? Like the Six, Neldin doesn’t explain himself to me.”
Kel snorted. “True on both accounts. Another possibility is the final confrontation is coming soon. It is more pressing that He change your mind.”
“That’s another question. How is He allowed to try to change my mind? Are the Six allowed to try to sway Meglar to Their cause?”
Kel made a face. “You know the answer to that. You are the only one who is of both houses.”
“Agreed. But I’m also the Champion of the Six.”
“Are you?” Kel asked. “Have you ever accepted?”
“Is that required? They chose me. Isn’t that enough?”
“Although I have no definitive knowledge, I think you do need to affirmatively accept. Given your unique position as a child of both houses, both sides could ask for your services. It wouldn’t make sense if one side could claim you and bar the other.”
“If that’s true, why didn’t the Six tell me?”
“Again, there is no book of knowledge I may consult to give you an answer. Logic suggests they are not permitted to tell you. It would interfere with your free choice.”
“It strikes me this is a bad arrangement for the Six. Neldin is free to talk Their Champion, while the Six may not do the same.”
“That is not correct for two reasons. The first is we’re not sure you are the Champion of the Six yet. The other is clearer. The Six could have chosen another of my line with no connection to Vedri’s house. Had They done that, Neldin would be unable to speak that Champion. They knew who you are and what that meant when They chose you to be Their Champion.” Kel held up his hand. “Before you ask why They didn’t choose another, consider the options. Pertrice and your mother are the only two grand masters in my line. Pertrice is not close to strong enough. Your mother, formidable as she is, wasn’t strong enough to defeat Meglar.”
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