Nothing happened. He looked at the ground hoping to see a circle like the one at Agloth, but there had been no change. Sliding his hand off the Gifts, he touched the dirt. Nothing. Since the area wouldn’t affect him, he had no way to know if the Six granted his wish.
“More courage,” he whispered and looked up at Meglar.
There had always been one flaw in the plan—he needed to be sure Meglar didn’t leave before the weapon fired. He’d barred all Doors on Gharaha, and Farrell had spells to disrupt any attempt to create one in the air. But Meglar could still fly away. Now he had to execute the plan to address that last means of escape.
He put the Gifts away one at a time but paused when he got to the Hand. The irony of using Neldin’s Gift to defeat His Champion appealed to Farrell, but he didn’t know if Neldin could rescind His offering. He didn’t need it to use the weapon but kept it out anyway.
Farrell created a small bubble and filled it with energy. He rubbed his hands around the surface to insert the needed spell. The ball swirled with different colors as he stirred it enough for his purpose.
The globe hovered over his left shoulder when he released it. He retrieved his staff and fired bursts of energy to distract Meglar. He varied where the attacks struck as well as how they exploded. After a string of loud, bright, but weak blows, Farrell released the ball.
It flew close to the ground and zoomed past Meglar. Once behind him, the ball looped up and struck at the top of his shield. The bubble burst, and a thin film of energy oozed down the shield.
Meglar’s defenses burst into flames. The attempt to burn off the substance made Farrell smile.
“Caught you,” he whispered before the flames died.
Making eye contact with Meglar, Farrell smirked before turning around. The weaknesses in his regenerative shield grew again, but it would hold long enough. He diverted the flow of energy from the collection web into himself. The amount of power it fed him made him flinch. When Meglar fired again, he felt a new surge.
Next, he tightened his connections to the Sources. He pointed his staff and released the energy inside him at the mountain. Slowly he increased how much he pulled into himself to avoid an overload. The transfer from storage to himself to his staffs went seamlessly, and power built in his weapon.
Meglar pounded him from behind, but there were no interruptions in his shield. Twice he created a brilliant explosion in front of Farrell’s face that he ignored. He’d constructed his defenses to filter out any sudden flashes of light.
He’d increased his intake again when the amulet around his neck suddenly pulled down. Farrell’s chest tightened and he almost lost his focus. Twice he called out to Miceral but received nothing back. Pushing his consciousness into the talisman met with icy resistance.
Farrell’s body felt as cold as the link. That meant . . . “Miceral.”
Chapter Forty
A pair of unicorns raced toward them from the gates. Zenora ignored them until she saw who was riding beside Kel. An attack on her defenses drew her attention, and she shored up her shields and fired back.
Flemin and Grenda stopped just behind Zenora, but Kel and Beatrice remained mounted. The fight between Heminaltose and Ulgar and Tarnicia had intensified. Zenora kept up her attack on the others to keep the pressure off her friend. When the exchange ended, the enemy paused and looked in Kel’s direction. Ulgar’s eyes opened wider.
“How . . .? If . . .?”
“Articulate as ever, Ulgar,” Kel said. “I am here because I am not the Champion of the Six. That honor falls to my grandson.”
“Ridiculous!” Ulgar said. “Meglar said you told him to meet you at Gharaha.”
Kel laughed. “You’re as big a fool as your nephew. I thought for sure you at least would have divined the truth when you heard Zenora was still alive. Or maybe you did and kept it quiet. After all, Meglar’s son has a greater claim to Zargon’s throne than you or your children.”
Zenora couldn’t contain a smirk at how shocked Ulgar and his children appeared. From the day she’d met him, she’d known Ulgar plotted to be king. Now, no matter who won, they would be the king of Zargon and not Ulgar.
“Master Beatrice.” Heminaltose used the moment to great his former teacher. “It’s a privilege I hadn’t thought to have again until recently.”
“It’s good to see you too, Hemi,” Grand Master Beatrice said. “You look well, and your aura is bright.”
“Beatrice?” Ulgar’s voice betrayed his fear. “Impossible!”
“And now you realize the depth of your stupidity,” Kel said sarcastically. “You’ve been so sure of your own plans, you never considered we’d made our own. Beatrice and I have outplayed you and your family for centuries.”
“Why are you taunting him?” Zenora asked.
“I’m linking Beatrice to the Source,” Kel said. “Once that is finished, we’ll end this battle.”
“End the battle?”
“Watch,” Kel said out loud.
Flemin moved closer to Grenda, and Kel extended his staff toward Beatrice. The red jewel sparkled with a light from inside. Beatrice inched her staff toward Kel’s and the crystal fingers atop hers opened like a flower in bloom. A flash of light blinded Zenora when the two tips touched.
The jewels had merged into one. In the center, Kel’s stone pulsed angrily. Without warning a burst of energy shot from the combined tops and targeted Ulgar. The blast shattered Ulgar’s shields and struck him flush in the chest. Fire engulfed him and a moment later only his ashes remained.
“By the Six!” Zenora said.
“That one,” Flemin said. Zenora didn’t know who he meant, but Kel must have because he tossed something into the chaos Ulgar’s death created.
A tiny ball of light zipped among the wizards and attached itself to Brezlaw’s shield. The wizard looked about frantically, but everyone was too busy shoring up their defenses to pay attention to his screams for help removing Kel’s marker.
Zenora felt energy flow through the marker and the weapon fired again. Tarnicia died next, followed by her brother. In rapid succession, Kel and Beatrice struck down every senior wizard in the enemy camp until only one was left.
Brezlaw pressed his hands against his shield and pushed. Next he slammed his shoulder against the side and then rammed his staff against the top.
Kel snorted. “There is no fleeing this time, coward.”
The red jewels uncoupled and Kel pointed his staff at Brezlaw. The panicked expression grew more desperate as the tip began to glow. A soft yellow light enveloped the ruby tip, and Zenora noticed the little ball on Brezlaw’s shield wiggle.
A small puff of smoke appeared inside the magical barrier and quickly filled the space. Brezlaw screamed in agony as the mist covered him. His robe dissolved in seconds, and they all watched as tiny flames burned along his skin,
Kel snapped his hand into a fist, and the wailing and pleas for help were silenced. Brezlaw continued to scream, but Zenora couldn’t hear them. She looked to Kel and barely recognized the twisted anger she saw. He noticed her staring at him and shook his head.
“I promised Flemin I’d live long enough to hunt down the one who killed his brother.” He turned his attention to Brezlaw, who had sunk to his knees. The wizard’s mouth remained open and he appeared to still scream. “The flames will not kill him until I allow it, but they will cause pain like he’s never known. He will be the last of Meglar’s army to die.”
Zenora tore her attention from the torture Kel inflicted on Brezlaw. “How did you kill the others so easily?”
“A moment more, please.” Kel dismounted and moved back to join Pfellcuk.
The eccentric wizard had been so quiet, Zenora forgot he waited behind them. Pfellcuk rested his staff on the stone marker and closed his eyes. The drain on the Source was considerable, but she couldn’t see where it had gone. A thick fog seeped out of the pylon and Pfellcuk fed it more energy.
The mist formed into a dense ball and drifted towa
rd the battlefield. It felt like the weapon Tixel used but lacked the dark angry energy of that cloud. Without a sound or burst of light, the ball exploded and sent its magic hurtling in all directions.
Zenora gasped as bits of energy pierced her shield. Others around her reacted with similar shock, but Kel and Beatrice remained unmoved.
“It works.” Pfellcuk turned with a look of glee on his face.
Kel chuckled. “Of course it does.”
“What is that and what is it doing?” Heminaltose asked.
“Watch,” Beatrice said. Her eyes danced with wonder as the white mist settled over the armies.
Nothing happened to Haven’s soldiers, but every Chamdon touched by the energy went rigid and started to shake. Those closest to the front line of battle were cut down before the magic could work. Those left unmolested jerked and twitched as their skin rippled.
Finally, the Chamdon started to shrink and their armor slipped from their bodies. Their features softened, and the snarling beasts reverted to human form. Stripped of the dark magic that warped their lives, they collapsed.
Zenora searched for life among the poor souls whose lives had been ripped away. Most were dead, but the few sparks of life she saw blinked out before she could isolate them.
“Did you . . .?” she asked Pfellcuk.
“No.” He shook his head. “I surmised this would happen. The spell used to create a Chamdon is dark magic at its worst. Changing them back couldn’t undo the damage to the body.”
Kel moved away from the others and laid a hand on Flemin’s withers. They appeared to confer, and Kel nodded. He flicked his free hand but never looked at the lone survivor of Meglar’s army.
The tiny fires that burned on Brezlaw’s body burst into a blinding ball that filled the confined space inside the shield. The flames lasted barely a second and when they faded, only ashes remained. The shield vanished a moment later.
A flash of light to her right pulled Zenora’s attention from Brezlaw. Horgon and Natice raced toward the spot, with Nerti only a step behind. “What in the name of the Six?”
Flemin and Kel, followed by Grenda and Beatrice, rushed by without answering her. They ran full-out in the same direction as Nerti and Natice.
“What just happened?” Heminaltose looked around for an answer. “Anyone?”
Glendora emerged from the pack of supporting wizards. “According to Mother Grenda, Miceral’s friend Leothan betrayed him. He and his company were working for Meglar. Miceral went to Leothan intending to send him to aid Wilhelm and Marisa. Leothan turned himself and his company into Chamdon.”
Fear clutched Zenora like a vise. Twice she tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.
“Where are Klissmor and Miceral?” Sanduval asked.
Glendora shook her head. “We don’t know. The guards reported seeing a hornless unicorn a split second before the flash. When they could see, Miceral and Klissmor were gone.”
“Nordric?” Zenora croaked.
“We assume but don’t know. The Blessed Mother doesn’t answer our calls.”
“Go to them.” Heminaltose waved for a mounted guard. “We can handle what’s left of Meglar’s army.”
She stared at the battlefield. The human wizards and soldiers stood among the corpses of Meglar’s once-invincible army. Pfellcuk’s spell hadn’t harmed them, but that wouldn’t save them. They stood amid four angry armies.
“Go!” Heminaltose repeated. He picked her up and put her behind the soldier. “Take Queen Zenora to find Kel.”
The soldier saluted and they galloped away. On the field, the survivors of Meglar’s army moved toward each other. They didn’t matter to her and would be dead in minutes, anyway. After the atrocities they committed, they’d get no quarter.
She pushed them from her thoughts. If Miceral . . . She couldn’t think it. It couldn’t be true.
Farrell’s knees buckled as he sobbed out Miceral’s name. Meglar used the moment to increase the strength of his attack. Drawing ragged breaths, Farrell kept back the tears as he came to terms with the truth. The initial overpowering sadness shifted to anger and a desperate need for revenge.
A new wave of energy rushed into him, and he shunted it to the weapon. It needed more power, a lot more. When it fired, Meglar needed to die. He clutched his staff and pulled out the Hand. It didn’t matter if Neldin nullified His Gift; it would serve Farrell’s purpose.
Clutching the alabaster fist in his left hand, he pointed it at Meglar. “Neldin has played you like the fool you’ve always been. Did He forget to tell you He gave me His Hand?”
The attacks on his shield stopped, and as Meglar struggled with what he’d heard, Farrell directed the Hand to gather energy and was surprised by the amount of power it collected. It took an effort to control it long enough to use. A tremendous burst of raw force exploded against Meglar’s shield.
“What’s wrong, Father? Did you think I was lying when I said He tried to convert me? How else could I have His Gift?”
Intoxicated by the feeling of near-godlike power, he lashed out repeatedly. After the fifth blow, Meglar countered. He created an open sphere and caught the energy before it struck. The globe sealed itself and Meglar flung it back at Farrell.
Farrell let it strike his damaged shield. The residual energy dispersed into the web and back to Farrell. Meglar barely let the effect of the first ball fade before he hurled a second bubble of swirling power. This time the regenerative shields sputtered before reconstituting.
Farrell fired back and rattled Meglar. The blast turned Meglar’s outer shield red-hot. He surprised Farrell by siphoning off the heat and using it to fuel his next attack.
It wasn’t as strong as the last few, but it nearly destroyed Farrell’s outer defenses. He smiled in satisfaction as Meglar prepared a new, much stronger ball.
“Goodbye, Meglar.” Farrell made a show of using the Hand to draw energy. “I hope Neldin torments you for eternity for your failure.”
Rather than fire at Meglar, Farrell spun around and let loose every scrap of energy he had. To supplement that, he opened himself to the Sources and acted like a sluice for the power to flow through him.
Meglar’s attack swept away Farrell’s artificial shield but washed around his reinforced inner one. As he poured more energy into the weapon, Farrell wished he could see Meglar’s reaction. When the wall couldn’t hold much more, he stopped and turned around.
A piercing scream ripped from Meglar’s lips as he realized what Farrell had done. He tried to fly off, but he slammed into his shield. Using his staff as a hammer, he pounded on his shield while snatching glances back at the wall. The blows did nothing to bring down his compromised defenses.
Farrell aimed his staff at Meglar and fired. Now he couldn’t take down his shield and fly off. He kept up the attack as the wall prepared to fire.
Frantically Meglar struck his immutable shield with physical and magical blows. A crazed expression twisted his face just before the burst erupted from the mountain face.
Farrell strengthened his shield and created a breaker on the side facing the mountain. It wouldn’t hold for long against what he’d unleashed, but he wanted to survive long enough to watch Meglar die.
Meglar stopped trying to escape and focused on defending himself. Two new shields appeared, the outer one a worthless imitation of Farrell’s. The angle of the wedge was too wide and he hadn’t reinforced the tip.
The weapon fired, and Farrell grunted when the energy struck. He gritted his teeth and bore down to keep his shield intact against the incredible amount of force.
Power flowed around Farrell and slammed into Meglar’s poorly constructed outer shield. The friction eroded the head of the breaker, and Meglar’s face showed the strain of trying to prevent its collapse.
Farrell reached for the spell in the weapon and increased the power. Since he couldn’t turn it off until it expelled everything it had been fed, he ensured his own death. As long as Meglar died, he didn’t
care.
Not anymore.
“Stop this madness and we can rule Nendor together!” Meglar shouted.
Farrell didn’t acknowledge the offer. Instead, he turned up the power again.
“Stop!” Meglar yelled. “Are you insane? We’ll both die!”
“That was the point of luring you here!” Farrell wanted to laugh or even smile at Meglar’s stupidity, but he’d lost too much. He turned and faced his foe. “Nendor wins so long as you die.”
Meglar growled as he tried to shore up his outer shield, but the damage was too great. The desperation on his face was satisfying. He hoped Meglar felt the same fear Clement and Christian had before they died. Only they were trying to save their people. Meglar only cared about himself.
The noise coming from Meglar grew more desperate and the point of his shield glowed yellowish-red. If Farrell turned around, he’d expect to find his breaker in the same condition. He retrieved his staffs and waited.
When Meglar’s outer shield collapsed, he staggered from the feedback. Farrell’s defenses buckled, but he ignored them to fire on Neldin’s champion.
Meglar had recovered enough to mold his inner wall into a semblance of a wedge. Less perfect than the outer wall, this one showed signs of failure almost immediately. Farrell’s attack exploded against this second-to-last layer of protection, weakening it irreparably. Farrell readied a new assault, but his own outer shield had run out of life.
A lifetime of training kicked in. Without thinking he took it down before it collapsed to avoid the recoil. Had he paid attention, he’d have left it up to keep the last few second of protection it would have provided. His compromised regenerative shielding flared back to life, but it was too damaged to save him. He expanded his personal protections and used power from the Sources to reinforce it. Then he stared at Meglar.
His second-to-last shield shattered and the feedback left Meglar disoriented. He glared defiantly at Farrell as the weapon tore at his last layer of safety.
The shield-generating stones exploded, and the energy struck Farrell’s last line of defense. It wouldn’t save him, but he’d survive long enough.
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