Author: Andrew Q. Gordon
Date: 2013-01-30 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; M M Romance; Magic; Romance; Lgbt; Paranormal; Adventure; Gay; M M Fantasy; High Fantasy
Description: Champion of the Gods: Book One In a war that shook the earth, the six gods of Nendor defeated their brother Neldin, god of evil. For three thousand years, Nendor and the Seven Kingdoms have known peace and prosperity and Neldin's evil was nearly forgotten. But then Meglar, wizard king of Zargon, unleashes the dark magic of the underworld and creates an army of creatures to carry out his master's will. One by one, the sovereign realms fall as a new war between the gods threatens to engulf Nendor. Leading the opposition to Meglar is Grand Master Farrell. Young and untried, Farrell carries a secr
Publisher: DSP Publications

Readers love
The Last Grand Master
by
ANDREW
Q. GORDON

This story is absolutely brilliant, an action-packed high fantasy that drags your imagination along on an epic journey…. This book dragged me in and didn’t let go until the last page and even then I wanted more. The storyline is fantastic, the characters are brilliant and the action is incredible. I loved every magic filled minute.

—MM Good Book Reviews

I have no words to describe how much this book has impressed me…. It wasn’t just great—it was outstanding! Andrew Q. Gordon has proved it with this book that he is the likes of Rick Riordan or Stephen King in the making. Yes, TLG is that good!

—Sid Love

Andrew Q. Gordon has created a fascinating world filled with new and familiar creations…. [Farrell and Miceral] together make an incredible pair.

—Sensual Reads

This is epic fantasy at its best…. There is magic, excitement, adventure, large-scale battles and characters so real you feel like talking to them, not to mention unicorns.

—Zipper Rippers

The author has written an enthralling character and plot driven story with a plot that flows beautifully and smoothly from beginning to end. The level of complexity and the in-depth knowledge that went into the world building of this superb book makes it totally believable and you find yourself swept up and pulled into the lives of the characters….

—Mrs. Condit & Friends

Copyright

Published by

DSP PUBLICATIONS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
http://www.dsppublications.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Last Grand Master

© 2015 Andrew Q. Gordon.

Cover Art

© 2015 AngstyG.

http://www.angstyg.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

Map Artwork

© 2015 August Li.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact DSP Publications, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dsppublications.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63476-440-7

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63476-441-4

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015904411

Third Edition April 2015

Second Edition February 2015

First Edition published by Dreamspinner Press, February 2013

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

To Michael,
for twenty years and counting
and for encouraging me to write;
and to Isobel,
because you steal my heart every day.

Acknowledgments

There are several people without whose help this never would have been published. E.J. at Gay Authors for taking a chance on me when no one else had. Cia for helping me get this down to size. Amber, for being the best damn beta reader on the planet. Lorraine, for teaching me how to write better and for the “family discount.” Elizabeth and everyone at Dreamspinner for taking a chance on me. And Michael for pushing me to write again and for putting up with me every day for the past eighteen years. A very special thank-you to Augusta Li for the map. Despite a short deadline, low-quality rough draft, and some unclear directions from me, you did an amazing job.

Author’s Note

This story was originally titled Chosen of Honorus and commissioned by the Gay Authors website for their premium content section.

Chapter 1

PRINCE
FARRELL of Haven sat cross-legged, hovering three feet above the ground, dwarfed by the stone pillars on either side of him. A gentle spring breeze swept softly over his skin and lifted his long brown hair as he faced the mountains. The morning sun had just crept over the horizon to begin its westward journey.

Stifling a yawn, he shook his head, remembering how his mentors had talked him into getting up this early. Next time they offered to make him dinner, he needed to find an excuse to eat elsewhere.

He closed his eyes and felt the area around him, from the dips and curves in the land forming a shallow bowl before him to the hoof-hardened Plains of Gharaha at his back.

The nape of his neck tickled as a droplet of sweat ran down, but he tuned it out, feeling instead for flaws in the rock in front of him. He needed the dimensions to be perfect. Anything less threatened his chances of defeating Meglar, the greatest and darkest wizard of their time.

Balance and symmetry, that’s how this weapon would work. He blinked, satisfied. The twin stone monoliths were six hundred feet apart and fifty feet tall. A section of the mountains had been smoothed and polished to a height of exactly three hundred feet. From tip to tip, his work extended one mile on either side of the gates directly in front of him. When closed, the gates would be entirely undetectable. Even by a great wizard. Even by the greatest wizard.

Yes, the left side felt perfect; now for the right.

As he closed his eyes and refocused on the right side, an eagle screeched in the distance. Another screech cut through the air, and with it came a tingle. No matter how he tried to ignore the piercing sound, he couldn’t. No ordinary bird called to him.

Reaching out with his senses, he tried and failed to locate what his ears told him he should find. Startled and annoyed, he roused himself and looked up. A pair of brilliant blue eyes, mere inches from his face, greeted him.

Discipline and training couldn’t stop him from pulling back. Mouth agape, he stared at the enormous white eagle hanging motionless before him. An avatar.

“Most Holy Sky Father,” Farrell said, slowly lowering one leg and then the other to kneel before the image of Honorus, first of the gods. “How may I serve you?”

“Rise, favored son. Your labors in My service have earned you the right to stand tall before Me.”

Farrell stood and took a quick breath. The force of an avatar’s voice in his mind always unnerved him. He sought some measure of calm in the pale blue eyes of his god.

“My Sister, Lenore, has need of you. She will send Her servant, who will explain what is required. Her need is great, and, loath though I am to ask you to suspend your work here, I believe this will ultimately aid you in the fight with Meglar. I ask that you accompany Her servant and render such aid as you may.”

Farrell bowed his head once in acknowledgment. “Master, whatever assistance I may give, I shall. Can I know the nature of the aid they require? And how will I know Her messenger?”

Did he see amusement in the avatar’s eyes? Could an avatar even be amused? “You will be told of your task by Her servant, and you will know Her servant on sight.”

“I hear Your words, Lord, and will serve Your Sister to the best of my abilities.”

“I expect no less of you, my son.” The white eagle began to fade, adding, “Know this, Farrell. On this quest you will find your mate among those who serve Lenore. Be not afraid to embrace love even in these trying times. Strength can be found in the love of another. Do not maintain the walls you built to shelter yourself from hurt. The union between you and My Sister’s servant will grant you strength in the difficult tasks that await you both. Consider it My gift for your unswerving devotion to Me and the arduous path I set you on. My blessings on you and your labors.” With that, Honorus vanished, leaving Farrell to mull His words.

Before he could digest what had happened, detection spells warned him that someone approached. Thoughts of avatars and a life partner vanished as years of training spurred him to action. Peering across the almost-empty prairie, Farrell instinctively gathered power.

Still some distance away, a mount galloped hard toward his position. Flat, treeless, and magically kept free of tall grass and scrub, Gharaha offered little cover for any who made their way through the hidden, guarded pass. Yet the rider had made it more than halfway across the plains already. Why hadn’t the spells worked properly?

Farrell scanned the prairie, using magic to be sure only one horse rode toward him. He focused on the solitary figure. Closer—impossibly closer, he realized.

“Could it be?” he whispered to the cold stones beside him. Enhancing his sight again, he confirmed his suspicions—no rider. A smile stretched his cheeks. Beyond any doubt, Lenore’s messenger had arrived.

Having fought Meglar his whole adult life, he readied a defensive spell out of habit. Exhaling, he let the power drain away. One did not greet Lenore’s messenger with aggression unless he fancied the wrath of the goddess. He shook his head. Not particularly. And Honorus had been clear: Lenore wanted—no, required—his help to fight Meglar.

Ignoring how naked he felt, he breathed deeply, noting how fast the mount closed the still-considerable distance between them. Surely he had time to go inside to alert his staff?

Checking again, he decided he might not. No, better to wait.

A unicorn. He studied it as it galloped toward him. Brilliant green eyes and pink, flaring nostrils with a pure white coat shining softly, as if the unicorn had just completed a light morning run. How incredible.

He lost track of how long he stared, but when he blinked the messenger had nearly reached him. Definitely a good thing I stayed, he decided.

With a grace belying its speed, the unicorn charged up to him. For a moment he wondered if it would race past him in a whizzing blur, but it halted an arm’s length from him.

“Wizard.” The voice in his mind was definitely feminine and less overpowering than the avatar’s. “Blessings from Her holiness, Lenore. The Blessed Mother sends Her regards to the Prince of Haven and seeks your assistance.”

He almost laughed. Who in the Eight Gates of Neblor dared speak for the Goddess of the Earth? But he caught himself in time; Lenore had a special bond with unicorns.

“Honorus’s blessings to you as well, Unicorn.” Not knowing her name, he addressed her in the same way she greeted him. “Welcome to Haven. Honorus told me to aid you and your mistress, though I don’t know what assistance you require.”

She pawed the ground and tossed her head slightly, reminding him of a petulant child. Farrell bit down on his tongue to suppress a chuckle.

“I already stated that Lenore requires your assistance. I have been sent to bear you to where you are needed.”

He jerked back at her curt tone and searched for the proper response. Of course he’d go with Lenore’s messenger, but did she expect him to simply hop on her back and be off? Beyond needing to be prepared for a fight, arrangements needed to be made for governing Haven in his absence. His mind raced through the myriad of things he needed to handle before he could leave.

“Forgive me if I offend you,” he said carefully and he hoped with the right amount of politeness, “but I’m at a disadvantage on many levels. To start, you know who I am, but I don’t know your name.”

“My name is Nerti, Wizard.”

“Pleased to meet you, Nerti. Can you tell me anything more than Lenore has summoned me? I’m certain if She took the time to send one so noble as you to fetch me, Her need must be great. I hope I’m sufficient to Her task.”

“Meglar has attacked us. My sisters and brothers have sought aid from all we can trust and have assembled at the mountain fortress that is my home. Unfortunately, there are no great wizards among our ranks. Nor do our allies, the Muchari, produce wizards among their kind with any regularity. Thus we are forced to seek your assistance.”

“Muchari? If I were not speaking with a unicorn, I would say they’re nothing more than legends.”

“Wizard, there is no time for idle banter. Meglar has assembled an army, and though Muchari are indeed formidable warriors, we are hopelessly outnumbered. What wizards we have are mostly old humans who sought out the Muchari to spend their last days in peace. They will not be able to withstand all that Meglar’s army throws at them in their attempt to capture our home. We require your skill.”

“I understand,” Farrell said absently. A dozen thoughts sought attention at once as he tried to digest all the information thrown at him. Nerti clearly wanted to leave immediately, but he needed some time. Better to delay a few minutes than race off unprepared. “Actually, I don’t understand. I have no army ready to march from Haven and liberate your people. If, as you say, you are hopelessly outnumbered, I won’t tilt the scales in your favor.”

“We do not hope to defeat Meglar’s army, only survive long enough to escape to another safe home. As I said, Muchari count few wizards amongst their number, and those who have the gift are rarely above the lowest grades. My sisters and brothers have no ability to manipulate magic, though we are made of it. We need your help moving everyone to a safer place. The wizards who reside with us are too few to protect the city for long and open our passage.”

That clarified things. Honorus didn’t need him to fight an entire army, just protect the city long enough for everyone to escape. Right, so much easier.

“Very well, now I understand. Unfortunately, I can’t open a Door to a place I’ve never been. We’re going to have to ride there, unless you’re able to supply me with a clear image of your home.”

“Wizard, it isn’t that easy,” Nerti said. “Northhelm is not accessible via magic Doors unless—and here I rely on the wizards’ words to explain it to you—unless you have been granted permission to bypass the city’s protections. I was told you would understand.”

“Unfortunately, it means we must ride to Northhelm,” Farrell said. “Had Lenore sent someone attuned to your city’s protections, I could open a Door from here to there. Wizards are taught that no one, no matter how strong, can override a sealing spell once engaged. I disagree but haven’t tested my theory yet. If I’m wrong, I’ll end up stuck between this moment and the next.”

“Wizard!” Her mental yell snapped his head around. The piercing green eyes that looked so ancient and wise suddenly seemed closer together and less friendly. “We have no time for you to daydream!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “How exactly do we get into your city if it’s already besieged by Meglar? Do you know of another connected Door somewhere?”

She dashed his slim hope of good news when she shook her head.

“The only way to reach the city is to fight our way in. Your skill and my speed will have to suffice to gain us entrance. The Blessed Mother said you were equal to the task.”

“Somehow I had a feeling you’d say that.” He tried to formulate a plan, but he had more questions than answers: the size of Meglar’s army, the distance to the fortress, the number of weapons he’d need, Nerti’s speed and stamina. He shook his head to clear his mind. “I need to collect some things before we set off. If we’re to fight our way in, I need to be prepared.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned his back on her to stare at the hidden gates that marked the entrance to Haven. A frown wrinkled his face.

“Nerti, we need to use a Door to reach my workroom. Going through the front gate, we’ll draw too much attention. But using a Door will cause my mentors, Masters Erstad and Wesfazial, to investigate what’s happening. I’m certain they’ll attempt to convince me not to ride off alone.”

“You will not be alone, Wizard.” Her casual tone almost brought a smile to his face. Clearly, she did not lack for confidence.

“That said, are you able to use a Door?”

“I neither affect a Door nor am I affected by one, if that is what you ask.”

“It is.” Satisfied, he reached out his left hand. A long black staff, capped on both ends in platinum and cuffed with several silver bands, flew from its perch against the monolith to the left. Farrell always carried this staff into a fight. The sound of wood on flesh broke the silence of the plains.

Speaking softly, he touched one end to the ground and moved it upward. A pale blue-green trail of light remained where the black wood passed. When it reached seven feet above the ground, he paused for a heartbeat. Four feet to the right, another pause. Finally he brought the staff down, holding it in place on the dusty plains.

Once he drew the outline, he stretched his right hand into the space between the lines and pushed forward with his will. A burst of light filled the area he’d just marked off. When the flash dissipated, a room lined with shelves and tables replaced the view of grass and mountains. Without a word, he stepped forward, followed closely by Nerti. When both cleared the threshold of the Door, Farrell waved his hand absently behind him. The light seemed to collapse in on itself, leaving the pair alone in the semidark room.

Another distracted wave and light slowly filled the workspace.

“I suspect we’ll have company in a few moments,” he said.

Nerti remained nearly motionless in the small, crowded room. Moving with a purpose, Farrell began to collect things he might need for the trip: a half dozen silver bracelets filled with energy; a bow and quiver of enchanted arrows; wands in different shapes and sizes; a long stake with a large mushroom-shaped head; a belt with throwing knives, each worked with a spell to ensure accuracy; and a dozen small stones that expanded when thrown at an enemy formation.

After walking across to the far side of the room, he opened a metal cabinet, only to have numerous items tumble out. As he collected a set of six smooth two-foot staves from the floor, the door to the room swung open, nearly hitting him in the head.

As he expected, his mentors entered his workroom. The anticipated barrage of questions, however, never materialized. Standing up, he noted the two older wizards staring at Nerti.

“Blessings of Lenore,” the leaner of the two said. To Farrell’s eye, the older man appeared stunned. “White Lady, how do I address you?”

“Her name is Nerti, Erstad.”

Turning his head as if he only just noticed Farrell, Erstad appeared unsure whom to address.

“It appears Honorus has loaned my services to Lenore,” Farrell said, using their silence to his advantage. “Nerti has been sent to bear me where I’m needed.”

“Humph.” This came from the thicker of the two. “A pretty white horse with a horn on her head shows up and you want to go riding off to the Six only knows where, on an errand I bet you don’t fully understand.”

“Ever blunt and to the point, aren’t we, Master Wesfazial?” A second “humph” answered Farrell’s question.

“The privilege of age, my young friend,” Erstad said. “But a question worthy of an answer nevertheless.”

“First, her name is Nerti, not ‘some pretty white horse with a horn.’” For some reason Farrell felt compelled to defend her. “Second, and far more important, Honorus sent His avatar to tell me to go with Lenore’s messenger.”

He paused, shifting his eyes from one to the other and back. “Like it or not, I’m not going to ignore Lenore’s request for assistance.”

“Boy, you’re a follower of Honorus. Let Lenore find a follower of Her own to send on some ill-fated quest.” Wesfazial pointedly ignored Nerti as he spoke. “Your place is here, not riding off somewhere trying to rescue people you don’t even know.”

“Honorus said I should heed Lenore’s call for help. Said it would assist us in our fight. Besides, when Lenore sends a unicorn to collect you so she can take you on ‘an ill-fated quest,’ see how easy you find it to refuse.”

Both older men looked back at Nerti as if weighing their options, causing Farrell to stifle a laugh. “Though I’m not, as you point out, a devotee of Lenore, Honorus gave me clear instructions: ‘Go with Lenore’s messenger.’ Unless, of course, you don’t believe Nerti was sent here by Lenore?”

Erstad shook his head. “No, I’m certain she is who she appears. Still, I would feel better if you had more of an escort than simply Nerti, powerful as she may be. For ten years we’ve staked our chances of success in this war on bringing Meglar here, not you chasing him wherever he goes. What sense does it make planning to lure him here only to have you ride off like some lovesick knight in search of his fair lady?”

Farrell stared at the older wizard, but before he spoke, Erstad quickly corrected himself. “My apologies. In your case, in search of his handsome lord. Riding off like that is not a good plan.”

“So you counsel I ignore Lenore’s request and wait for Meglar to show up here?” Farrell looked from one to the other, daring them to say “Yes, we want you to ignore Lenore.” Neither said a word. “I didn’t think either of you wanted me to offend the Bright Lady.”

Erstad smiled, which gave him the look of a serene grandfather addressing his favorite grandchild. “Of course you must do what Honorus tells you, but did He say you had to go alone?”

“He will not be alone, Wizard. I shall bear him where he needs to go.” From the raised eyebrow Wesfazial gave him, Nerti must have projected her thoughts to all three of them.

“Nerti calls us all ‘Wizard,’ I’m afraid. She also has little regard for invading our minds with her thoughts. But to answer your question, yes, I believe I am expected to go alone with Nerti. If others were to accompany us, Lenore would have sent more than one unicorn.”

Nerti bobbed her head as Farrell collected the last two staves from the rough stone floor. To those, he added several more from a shelf in the cabinet. After selecting four pouches from a shelf above a long oak workbench, he looked at the growing pile of weapons. Would he need the bow and arrows? Maybe. He left them on the stack, then added a long, thin sword with an ivory handle. Just in case.

He waited for his friends to speak, but when they remained silent, he pressed on. “Sometimes one must take on faith that the gods have a purpose for us. On those rare occasions They send clear signs of what They want from us, we need to follow Their will. I’m taking Nerti’s appearance as a clear sign to follow Honorus’s orders.” He arranged the items he’d collected and stuffed them one by one into his right pants pocket. Grasping the sword again, he worried his bottom lip. If the situation called for him to use his sword, he likely would be in no condition to use it. Best to set it aside.

Nothing but heavy breathing and the clattering of his weapons filled the air.

“I suppose I have everything I need. The endless pockets on these pants are beyond useful, Wesfazial. I shall thank you every time I use something from it.”

The older wizard inclined his head slightly.

“When will Master Cylinda be back?” Farrell would feel better about leaving if she were there.

“I don’t expect her for another ten days,” Erstad said. “But don’t worry. Wesfazial and I can manage things. We’ve done it before.”

“I promise we’ll lock the front gate and not answer it if Meglar knocks.” Wesfazial winked at Farrell.

After trying to hold back a smile, Farrell finally gave up and shook his head. “That’s a relief. Now I don’t need to seal it before I go.”

He could feel Nerti’s anxiety and walked over to her. Farrell extended his arm and pushed out with his will. When the Door reappeared, the Plains of Gharaha filled the bluish energy frame. Letting out a breath, he turned back to his mentors. “I truly believe this is the right thing to do. Honorus’s avatar told me to go with Nerti. When my god tells me this will aid our goals, I trust His wisdom.” He left out the bit about a soul mate. That felt too personal, and he had to admit it played a small part in his desire to undertake this task.

“Hard for even an old curmudgeon like me to argue against doing what the blasted avatar of Honorus requests.” Wesfazial flashed him a mischievous grin. “But I don’t have to like it.”

Farrell and Erstad both snickered.

“No one will ever accuse you of being forced to like anything, my friend,” Erstad chided. Mirth drained from his face, and he looked deadly serious again. “Take care of yourself, son. We need you back. More importantly, we want you back. You too, Lady Nerti.”

Nerti bowed her head but otherwise stayed quiet.

“Erstad, your concern and that of Wesfazial—who looks apt to burst in frustration—is appreciated. But to my thinking, and I admit to still being young and foolish at times—”

“Only at times?” Wesfazial’s gruff voice sounded forced to Farrell.

“There isn’t the same element of uncertainty that many of our undertakings seem to hold,” Farrell continued. “The gods rarely tell us specifically to go somewhere or do anything. It’s always ‘Seek the place where all may be safe’ or ‘Oppose the evil that is Meglar.’ In all I have seen and read, a specific command of the gods carries with it a certain guarantee of success. Lenore would not send me on a fool’s errand that risks the success of Honorus’s plans. She must be confident that I’m capable of completing this mission.”

Neither looked convinced, but whatever their thoughts, they kept silent.

“The young wizard speaks truly,” Nerti said. “Lenore would not risk offending Her brother by asking Him to sacrifice His trusted servant. I will make sure I return him safely to you. Come, Wizard, it is time to go.”

Without waiting for his response, she walked through the open Door. Once outside, she stared back, as if demanding he join her.

“My name is not ‘Wizard.’ It’s Farrell,” he said softly.

Chapter 2

OUTSIDE
AGAIN, Farrell waved his hand at the Door. When the last bit of blue-green light disappeared, he reached over his shoulder and touched his black wood staff to his back. It shrank to half its size and locked into place. Now to begin the errand.

He paused a moment when he realized Nerti did not have a saddle. What he knew about unicorns, he learned twenty years ago. As a boy, he snuck old tomes from his master’s library to read about legends and heroes. Favored by Lenore, unicorns figured prominently in his boyhood fascinations. Despite the passage of time, he remembered that a rider freely welcomed on a unicorn’s back never fell.

“Am I welcome to ride, Nerti?”

“You are welcome, Servant of Honorus. Let us be off. Time is short and the distance is great.”

He vaulted onto her back, shifting on the broad and journey-hardened muscles until he found a comfortable position. Before he linked his fingers through her mane, a gentle pull of energy passed between him and Nerti, holding him in place. Sensing no magic, he decided this had to be the hand of the divine.

Before he could examine the link further, Nerti lurched forward. Despite the gravity of the moment, a smile curled his lips. The legends failed to capture how amazing it felt to ride a unicorn.

They raced across the Plains of Gharaha toward its one true entrance. Wind whipped his hair into his face. He swiped it back, focusing due east toward the gap in the western mountains. It looked an inch wide, but he knew an army could march through in formation.

The entrance grew with every step. At this rate, Nerti would cross the plains in half the time it took the fastest horse.

“How far is your home?” He hoped it didn’t require days of riding.

“I ran almost two full days to reach you, Wizard.” As if reading his mind, Nerti continued, “But my Mistress said you could shorten that considerably with your talents.”

“I can, but I need to know where we’re going first.”

“My home is set in the Spine of Khron, about halfway between here and the Kessan Ocean. It is on the northern border of Respital.”

He knew the mountains that marked the northern boundaries of the Seven Kingdoms, but her answer didn’t help. “Can you be more specific?”

“There is a pass in the mountains. Northhelm is built inside the western spur.”

“Pass? Impossible. The mountains are unbroken between Pelipan and Yar-del.”

“No, Wizard. There is a passage, but it is hidden.”

Hidden passage? The Six must have a hand in this. Either way, it didn’t matter. “If it’s hidden, then we can’t use a Door to get directly there. However, I should be able to shorten how long you’ll need to run.”

“Proceed.” Her tone started to irritate him. Couldn’t she at least try to be friendly?

“I can open a Door to the foothills where the Trellham Mountains meet the Spine of Khron. That is the closest distinctive landmark I know to where you say Northhelm lies. After that, we’ll have to run the rest of the way.”

“That would certainly be a good start.”

Did he hear a hint of approval?

“The second way I can hasten our journey is more localized.” He waited for her to comment, but she remained silent. “Where the ground ahead is free of obstacles, I can pull us forward as you run. Essentially, I’m using the split second between steps to pull us both forward. The effect can be a bit disconcerting, and the longer the distance, the greater the disorientation. If you feel up to it, I can employ the technique between here and the pass.” Even at her speed, he had enough distance to practice.

“Proceed.”

By the Six! If she said “proceed” again, he’d…. He resisted the urge to dig his heels into her flanks.

“I need to know how this feels before agreeing to it on the rest of the trip.”

“Agreed.” He gauged the distance between them and their destination. “I’ll warn you before I cast the spell. The effect is hard to explain, but to me it feels as if the land rushes past me for a moment, and then it’s normal. I’ll be sure to leave us enough room so that we don’t run into the mountain.”

“Do I reduce my pace?”

“There’s no need for that. I’ll leave enough room for you to keep running.” If this small “pull” worked, he hoped to make much longer ones once they reached the northern slopes.

Making use of his proximity to Haven, he drew on the stored energy in the Sources to power his spell. He fixed his eyes on a place at the edge of the plains. “Be ready. I’m going to employ the spell now.” By force of will, Farrell used the energy to “pull” them to a point closer to the end of Gharaha. “Honorus’s light!”

“Is something wrong, Wizard? That seemed to work quite well. I felt no ill effects but did notice the land rush around us as you warned.”

“That was not the normal effect, Nerti. We went much faster than I expected, though I did nothing different to warrant such an increase.” He didn’t like it when a spell went other than as planned, but he had no time to delve into the mystery. Nerti kept running toward the end of Gharaha. He pointed to his right. “Make for the small indentation in the mountain to the left of the standing outcrop of rock.”

Nerti adjusted her path while Farrell concentrated on the Door. Unlike opening a Door from nothing, he could activate a permanent Door with a mental command. Once open, the Door would take them to any place he could visualize. He concentrated on the image of a wooded glade and sent his command. As soon as they hurtled through the Door, a thick warmth and the overpowering smell of pine assailed his senses.

He searched the horizon, hoping for a clear view through the many obstacles.

“It’s too dangerous to use the spell with this many trees in our way. The risk of crashing into one is too great.”

“Do not apologize, Wizard. Your skills have brought us more than a third of the way to our destination. Use your spell whenever you can, and we will be there in short order.”

This time, he knew he heard a note of respect in her voice. Now he felt a twinge of guilt at his earlier thought. Maybe the trip wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Keep alert for soldiers,” he said.

“Are we not in Pelipan?”

“We are, but stay alert anyway. I dislike King Heldin and don’t trust him.” He cast his senses wide, making certain no one had observed them exiting the Door.

“Heldin is no friend of Meglar. We have nothing to fear from him or his people.”

Finding nothing, Farrell relaxed a bit. “As you say, but years ago, while a student of Grand Master Heminaltose, I met Heldin. My master disliked and distrusted him, and I’ve never found any reason to disagree. Best we avoid any contact with his people.”

If Nerti had a different opinion, she did not comment. Between her speed and his spells, they crossed Pelipan and moved into what was once Respital by midmorning.

The sun had just passed its zenith when Farrell brought them out of the longest pull of the ride so far. A curdling sensation hit his gut, strengthening with each step forward. Something felt very wrong in this area. Nerti slowed to a stop.

“We near Northhelm.” Her voice held a pain he could understand. “Meglar’s forces have been through here. I can tell you feel it as well.”

“Aye. His troops leave a foul residue wherever they pass. Can you tell me what lies ahead so I can devise a plan of action?”

Without a word, Nerti pushed her thoughts into his mind, allowing him to “see” the land ahead as she remembered it. Unlike Haven, Northhelm was built inside the last mountain before the pass. Meglar’s army would be able to surround her home on three sides. No one said getting to the front gate would be easy.

He scoured the image she gave him. Perhaps the geography could work in their favor. Unlike Gharaha, the valley before Northhelm rolled up and down in a series of hills, with numerous rock formations thrusting up in random places. The southernmost hills extended several hundred yards beyond the break in the mountains. At least the pass could only be approached from the east.

The path wound its way up and down the hills and around smooth, sheer rocks that limited the threat as much as they boxed them in. Essentially, they’d be running through an oversized cattle chute. But it also prevented an attack from above. Once in the valley, they’d turn north and follow the winding path to the gate.

And of course, Meglar’s army stood between them and Northhelm.

“Those who live in Northhelm would have defended the entrance with their lives if Lenore had not told us to keep to the mountain until She sent help.” Nerti moved again, showing no signs she’d been running for nearly three days straight. “Even the peregrines were ordered to stay inside.”

Ferrell had never met a peregrine, but, like unicorns, he’d read about them. Raptors about the size of a horse, they possessed the agility of a hawk.

“How is it that this passage north and Northhelm have never been discovered until now? Respital is, or was, just south of here. Northhelm should have been discovered centuries ago.”

“The city and the pass were hidden.”

“Hidden?” He knew how stupid he sounded repeating everything. “Who could hide an entire mountain?”

It felt as though Nerti laughed in his mind. “It was the wizard Beatrice.”

“My master, Heminaltose, studied for a time under an ancient wizard named Beatrice almost a thousand years ago.” It had to be the same wizard. “He only studied with her a few years before she died.”

“When Heminaltose studied with Beatrice, she was about to celebrate her two thousandth year. She did this when she was very young.”

If a young Beatrice cast the spell, then…. “Your home has been hidden for more than three millennia?”

“That would be accurate.”

“To have lasted three thousand years is an amazing piece of magic.” Now he wished he had the chance to study it. “How did Meglar find you?”

“Some of our warriors rode to the aid of Respital.” Nerti didn’t sound as though she approved. “One who was gravely wounded was inadvertently left behind and captured.”

Farrell kept alert as they rode. “When survivors from Respital arrived at Haven, they spoke of a company of mercenaries who impossibly held back Meglar’s Chamdon long enough for the main army to retreat. After the battle, they disappeared, and no one knew what happened to them.”

“Before Meglar attempted to turn the fallen warrior into a Chamdon, he stripped her mind of all useful information, including the location of Northhelm.”

“Armed with her knowledge, he was able to pierce Beatrice’s spells.”

“Precisely.”

A frightening image forced its way into his mind. “What happened to the captured Muchari?”

“After he obtained the needed information, Meglar attempted to turn her into a Chamdon. When he turned his foul magic on her, her wounds did not heal as he hoped. Instead, it hastened her death, but not before Meglar saw what great strength a Muchari had when converted to one of his foul creatures.”

Now it started to make sense. “Which explains why Lenore ordered everyone to stay inside the mountain.”

“Correct.”

A breeze moaned softly as it passed, and the churning in his gut returned, wringing harder. Lingering here would not get them to Northhelm. Using all the new facts, he considered their options.

“I believe I can get us close to the mouth of the pass before we need to fight our way through. It’s just a question of how close we can get before there are so many soldiers we can’t avoid bumping into them.”

“Then what?” Skepticism oozed from her question.

Now that he wanted to hear “proceed,” she wouldn’t say it. He almost laughed, but their situation required he be serious. “I have a few ideas, but it will depend on how much magic we encounter. I sense some large magics at work, but it’s hard to pin down what they are and who’s casting them. There are definitely two or more different spells at work. I can feel the different textures. I assume one is the defensive shield created by your people and the other is Meglar’s wizards attempting to breach it.

“The biggest problem we’ll face, aside from an army of Chamdon, will be if they try to block our way instead of attacking us. It’s harder to beat down a well-made shield than it is to deflect attacks.”

“That is well and good.” Nerti slowed to a walk. “Shall we proceed?”

His lips quirked into a brief smile. “Before we go, I need to make sure you can handle what I’m going to try. I’ve employed this before, but always with many riders, never with one.”

“Wizard, I shall fulfill my duties so long as you handle yours.” She sounded annoyed. “What is it you propose?”

Pushing aside any concerns for her pride, he retrieved one of his shorter staffs. “When I engage this spell, it will project our image multiple times. These images will be made of energy. They will protect us from attack, magic, sword, and arrow, even from a Chamdon. The more images, the shorter the spell will last. I think five will be the optimum number in our case. That will provide enough protection but should not overtax you. Once activated, I’ll link them to you, and they’ll move with us. It will feel as if you are dragging something. I don’t believe it will be too heavy. If it is, let me know.”

“I will do what needs to be done.” Her confidence, while admirable, left him wondering if she really understood what he’d said. He’d soon find out.

“Very well, Nerti. I’ll make us undetectable; then we can be off. When we meet with physical resistance, I’ll unleash the spell. Then you need to immediately head for the entrance to your home.”

Farrell reached into one of his endless pockets and withdrew two silver bracelets. He placed one against his left wrist, and the apparently seamless band separated to slip around his arm. The same happened when he put the mate to his right wrist. Next he reached over his shoulder for his staff. Released, it returned to its original length of two yards.

Farrell twirled the staff over his head in a blur of motion, focusing on the spell that would cloak them. When he stopped moving it, he held the staff in his left hand, directly in front of him, keeping it parallel to the ground. “Okay, Nerti, my spell is in place.”

Silently the unicorn leaped forward and accelerated quickly to full speed in a few strides. He sat, staff extended before him, keeping as still as possible as they sped across the barren ground toward the entrance to Northhelm.

Sentries stood watch, perched at the top of the ridgeline directly above them. None of them seemed to notice the pair. Neither did the few human guards they passed on the ground. So far, his spell worked.

Every step closer to the gap brought an ever-growing contingent of enemy soldiers. Nerti slowed her pace to avoid running into them. Focused on the spell to keep them invisible, Farrell barely noticed the Chamdon sniffing the air.

In sight of the entrance, he could see formations of Meglar’s army filing into the valley. Nerti slowed even more. “Perhaps we should engage your shadows. It is too hard to make any speed trying to avoid them.”

“Agreed.” He made sure the short staff had enough power, but before he activated the spell, a loud roar boomed from his left. Two Chamdon closed in on them, sniffing as they came.

“Your spell has been breached, Wizard!” The force of her voice nearly broke his concentration. Nerti lurched forward, not waiting for him to respond. “Activate the shadows now.”

Balls of green wizard’s fire erupted toward the closing enemies as he aimed his staff at the charging creatures. The force of impact sent a shower of flesh, blood, and armor flying backward.

Roused to the alert, the rest of Meglar’s army scurried in all directions. Unable to locate the source of the attack, the mindless creatures hacked at anything that moved, including each other. Human handlers struggled to maintain order while Farrell continued his attack. The more chaos, the better.

Releasing the invisibility spell, Farrell placed the short staff against Nerti’s back. Five red energy shadows sprang up and surrounded them in a wedge of magical protection.

Despite the added drag of their new shield, Nerti increased her speed. She galloped directly for the gap into the valley where the bulk of Meglar’s forces had assembled.

Charging into the teeth of the enemy, he and Nerti became the focus of dozens of Chamdon attacks. Their outer protection melted swords, burned clothing, and charred the flesh of those it encountered. The first magical assault didn’t come until they reached the mouth of the gap. Farrell’s protection swept these attacks aside as Nerti continued to run full-out.

Bearing down, the pair and their escort cleaved a path as they made for the entrance to Northhelm. When they broke through the ranks of what Farrell assumed to be the rear guard, he detected a shield wall directly ahead.

“Wizard, I sense magic ahead.”

“I’m on it, Nerti.” He placed his staff on his back and the rain of wizard’s fire ceased. He dug into his endless pockets and withdrew a small leather pouch. Swiftly he emptied the contents, a fine gray powder, into his left hand. Cupping the powder, he moved his hand as far right as he could before sweeping it right to left, palm upraised. The powder flew forward, creating a fog-like appearance and outpacing Nerti’s rapid gallop.

Several hundred yards ahead, the fine grains of gray dust swirled upward and blanketed the wall of energy. Behind the shield, two black-robed men stood still, chanting furiously.

“Amateurs,” he muttered. “Nerti, make for the center of the mist. I’ll have it down in a moment.”

At the edge of his mind, he detected something from his companion.

“Wizard, with all the noise, stop using your mouth and speak into my mind.” Her curt tone felt like his master scolding him.

“Sorry…. Sorry, I forget you can hear me.” Slightly embarrassed, he returned his focus to the fight.

The swirling dust coagulated around several bright points dotted randomly in the wall. The spots grew in intensity and size as Nerti drew closer. “Wizard, you need to do something before we collide with their shield.”

“Just make for the wall. I know what I’m doing.” Even mentally, his words came out in a hiss as he focused on his spell.

Nerti dipped her horn, as did the five red energy copies, preparing for impact. Farrell whipped his staff around, aiming it at the wall.

Chanting faster, his adversaries looked panicked as the red wedge rushed toward them. Just before Nerti struck the wall, Farrell let out a yell as the tip of his staff pulsed white.

Like thin ice, the wall shattered. Pieces of brittle shield fell from the sky for hundreds of yards on either side. Two of the bright dots that’d gorged on the energy from the shield wall zoomed forward, striking the dazed wizards. The pair flew backward thirty feet. Farrell sent the other balls whizzing toward dense clusters of Chamdon converging on him and Nerti.

Nerti ran past the smoldering corpses. “Well done, young one.” The voice held more than a hint of approval.

“Thank you.” He tried to avoid the temptation of making his tone sound like Told you so. “Can you slow your pace a bit? I’m not sure I’ll have sufficient time to work the magic needed to take down another shield at this speed.”

“I can, Wizard.”

Another shield flared before they made much headway. If she noticed the new barrier, Nerti didn’t announce it to him.

He pulled a large metal wand from his pocket. A thin circle, approximately twelve inches in diameter, topped the slightly thicker metal handle. Placing the circle in front of his face, he opened his mouth and screamed. Despite yelling as loud as he could, no sound passed his lips. For three heartbeats, he maintained the position before closing his mouth.

He almost spoke, but at the last moment reached out mentally for his partner. “I’m about to unleash a very loud noise. Can you block out all sound, or would you prefer I add you to my protection?”

“I believe I can, but if the noise will disable me, please add me to your protection.”

Rather than answer, he waved his free hand over Nerti’s head. His lips moved, but nothing came out. After the third pass, he stopped and held aloft the scepter. Instantly, a piercing screech filled the valley.

Meglar’s army immediately clutched at their ears in agony. Most of the soldiers and wizards dropped to the ground. A few remained standing but lurched and reeled with the effects of the spell. Only the more powerful wizards remained unaffected.

Luckily, one of the wizards creating the shield had inadequate protection. While two of the black-robed wizards stood unaffected, the third lay writhing on the ground. A small grin crossed Farrell’s face. Just enough disruption for his purposes.

The two remaining wizards stared wide-eyed and shaking slightly as the red energy charged toward them. With their weakest member incapacitated, the others needed to take down and rebuild the shield without their fallen comrade. They didn’t have enough time for that.

Scepter aloft, Farrell maintained the scream and pointed his staff forward like a lance. The red energy shadows mimicked his move. Six bolts of deep blue power flew from the wedge, aimed at the two standing wizards. Caught between maintaining the greater shield wall and reinforcing their own personal protection, the pair wavered. It didn’t matter. His assault cut through the outer barrier as well as their personal shields as if neither existed. Nerti took aim at the wizard rolling on the ground, trampling him as they passed.

The wail slowly died as they moved closer to the main part of Meglar’s army. Halfway there and nothing too challenging thrown their way.

Farrell checked the strength of his escorts. Satisfied they had sufficient power, he searched for the next threat. As suspected, the enemy pulled back, marshaling closer to Northhelm’s protective barricade and preparing one last assault before he and Nerti reached the gate.

Before he could formulate his plan, he heard a commotion to his right. Turning, he saw several unicorns, peregrines, and human soldiers with their backs to the mountainside. An ever-growing number of enemy warriors surrounded them, pressing closer. Judging by how easily they dispatched the Chamdon who faced them, these “humans” had to be Muchari. He swallowed hard as he counted the gathering army surrounding them. Even super strength and speed wouldn’t save them against such a superior force.

“Nerti, we must go help them.” He pointed toward the embattled warriors. “Veer right and make for your people.”

“No!” Despite the pain he heard in her voice, she kept to their course. “We cannot aid them. My task is to get you to the city, and nothing can deter me from that, not even saving them.”

It took a moment to process what he heard. “Are you mad? They’ll be killed if we don’t help them. They’re surrounded!”

“I have eyes to see what is happening, Wizard. They were instructed not to leave Northhelm. And though their intentions to aid us were noble, this is why they were told to stay inside the mountain. Despite their plight, we must not alter our path.” The sadness in her tone surprised him, especially when she stayed the course.

With a wave of his hand, he bound the staff generating the shadow escort to Nerti. “Ride straight for the gate. The staff will ensure the shadows help you make it there safely. I’ll join you once I free your friends.”

Without waiting for the argument he knew he would get, he leapt from her back.

“No! Wizard, you must not deviate from our path!”

Though he heard Nerti’s order, he ignored her. Saving the others required all his concentration.

Chapter 3

FARRELL
COMPLETED his somersault and drained power from the silver bracelets. Rose-colored energy swirled around him and formed a galloping centaur that enveloped him in its protective embrace. He fed the shield enough energy to keep him safe from all but the strongest attacks. Enough, he hoped, to reach the trapped Northhelm warriors.

His jaw tightened as he spotted a small knot of low-grade wizards standing back from the fight. Of all Meglar’s people, he despised the Chamdon handlers the most. He planned to make the cowards pay.

Following the orders given, the warped creatures charged Northhelm’s defenders with a frenzied abandon. Killing the handlers wouldn’t stop the attack, but it would prevent anyone from redirecting the Chamdon toward him. Not to mention it made him feel better.

Rounding toward the handlers, he fired balls of energy at the unprepared men. Wizard’s fire striking flesh never ended well for those hit. Today was no exception. The hail of blood and body pieces sizzled on contact with the energy protecting him. Too bad the fight didn’t end with their deaths.

Locked into carrying out their last command, the Chamdon ignored his approach. Exploiting this weakness, Farrell sent short, deadly blasts of green energy at their rear, tossing bodies out of his path. Racing into the gap, he felt the expected attacks.

Snarling like feral dogs, the creatures barely resembled the humans they’d been before Meglar twisted them with dark magic. A Chamdon, its dark, blank eyes devoid of any trace of humanity or reason, locked its gaze with his, then carried out its order and attacked. Blasting the beast before it reached him, Farrell ended its tortured existence.

Attacks hit his armor like rocks. None threatened to harm him, but each one slowed his approach, if only a little. A claw snagged the air, nipping part of his rear flank. The hand vaporized on contact, but it sapped his momentum again. He couldn’t let himself be stopped, not in the middle of the sea of Chamdon between him and the warriors. Even his centaur armor wouldn’t protect him indefinitely.

Racing full out, he plunged deeper into their ranks. As fast as he ran, Farrell didn’t escape unscathed. His exposed flanks bore the brunt of the attacks from those he tried to slip past. A dead Chamdon fell backward, causing him to stumble. The small stutter slowed him just enough for two creatures to his left to leap for his legs. Bracing for another stumble, he watched as five red energy unicorns overtook him, churning the Chamdon into the dirt.

“Your courage shames me, young one.”

He beamed at Nerti, silently thanking Lenore. “And your timing is impeccable.”

Blasting his way deeper into their ranks, Nerti moved in front of him. “If you ride to the aid of my friends, I am required to assist you. Rejoin me, and let us have at these foul creatures.”

Using Nerti’s pull, he soared over the energy escort. The centaur dissipated, energy flowing back into the silver bands as he settled onto Nerti’s back. His image reappeared on the backs of the five energy unicorns.

Nerti lowered her horn, cleaving a path through the enemy. He lowered his staff, the images mirroring him, and all six staffs erupted in blue light. Blazing lines of energy filled the air with the smell of burnt flesh as bodies flew out of their way. He repeated the assault until he cleared a path deep into the Chamdon ranks.

“If you have any way to warn your friends, let them know to gather directly in front of our position,” he told Nerti. “I’m going to clear our path to the mountain.”

Before she replied, he stowed his staff and drew the small bow and arrows from his pocket. When he nocked an arrow, the five energy doppelgängers did the same. In unison, they aimed to his left. He cast a spell on his arrow and sent it and the others on their way.

The twang of bowstrings launched six white shafts of energy toward the mound of rock ahead. Armor, bone, flesh—nothing stopped their flight. A trail of energy hung in the air where they passed. The arrows lodged in the mountain face, impossibly aligned vertically, exactly two feet apart.

Not waiting for the first volley to find their target, Farrell repeated his action to the right. Two rows of white energy hung in the air, stretching from his position to the mountain face. In the center of the lines, the defiant Muchari, unicorns, and peregrines stood, guarding the fallen body of a peregrine.

Stashing his bow and arrows, he retrieved his staff. A pale white glow emanated from its tip. The energy trails elongated until they formed a solid wall, cutting off those Chamdon inside from the rest of the army on the other side.

He hoped that gave the defenders a bit of a breather.

“Nerti, make for your friends. Trample all in our path.” His voice betrayed a touch of weariness.

“With pleasure.”

He raised an eyebrow at the hint of glee in her response.

Despite the danger he and Nerti represented, the Chamdon never turned. The pair shoved aside or crushed anyone in their way. As Nerti plowed into their enemy, he reached into his pocket and removed a handful of small white stones.

Funneling energy into the rocks, he divided them between his hands and flung them forward. Once on the ground, they expanded until they reached the size of a large dog. Bouncing around, the new, larger stones ricocheted off the shimmering white energy and crushed anything they struck.

Nerti’s speed astonished him, especially given the added burden she pulled. As the distance between them and her friends dwindled, the space between the lines increased. Farrell focused green wizard’s fire at the densest groups of Chamdon. Stragglers wouldn’t do for his next move.

The trapped warriors redoubled their efforts and pressed forward. In a whirl of motion he’d never thought possible, they set upon the remaining Chamdon. In their center, a tall warrior leaped from the back of his unicorn and landed amongst the startled enemy. Blond hair swirled about him as his silvery chain mail spun almost too fast to follow. He easily dispatched any Chamdon within his reach.

Amazing. Farrell caught himself staring.

“Indeed. Miceral is our greatest warrior. He is eager to meet you.”

Eager to meet him? Huh? He shook off the confusion—and embarrassment at being caught gawking—and lashed out at one of the few remaining Chamdon. From Nerti’s back, he plucked the short staff, and their escorts disappeared. Leaping down, he put the dowel in his belt and turned back the way they’d come.

Enemy soldiers started pouring through the open space where he had fired the arrows. Farrell raised his hands and the white walls moved toward him, growing in density. He connected the ends when they passed the charging enemy, creating a solid wall that blocked any further progress. Then he raised the top until it closed over them, forming a semicircle of protection.

True to their nature, the Chamdon beat against the wall, howling in their attempt to carry out their orders. Shaking his head, he turned away. Senseless.

“That will hold them until….” He paused as he found himself face to face with the blond warrior who’d captured his attention. Staring into the piercing blue eyes, he almost forgot to finish his thought. “Um, it will hold. My apologies. I didn’t mean to stare.”

The warrior laughed. “Of course you did.” His deep voice sent a shiver through his body. When the man smiled, Farrell extended a hand to hide his embarrassment.

“I am Farrell. That was amazing, watching you and the others fight.”

“Not so impressive as what you did to reach us. We would not have survived had you not come.” He grasped Farrell’s hand and pulled him into an embrace. “I am Miceral, and you have my eternal thanks.”

That’s not all I’d like from you. His thought almost left him with an embarrassing condition, so he broke the hug and moved toward the fallen peregrine. Others attempted to treat a deep gash in the raptor’s side. Blood covered much of the peregrine’s body, and he saw off-white bone through the rent flesh. Field medicine wouldn’t save him, and it appeared none of those helping possessed a healer’s gift.

“Let me through, please.” He used his staff to gently but firmly move others aside. The pain in the peregrine’s eyes made him wince. Big as a horse for certain. Kneeling beside the stricken raptor, he reached out mentally. “Peregrine, I am also a servant of Honorus. Your wound is grievous, and although I’m not a trained healer, I possess enough of a healer’s gift that I believe I can patch you up until a true healer can tend to you. Though I make no promises as to my skill, I seek your permission to try.”

“Waste not your talents on me. Nothing you do will enable me to travel fast enough to make it back to the gate. You, who are Lenore’s Chosen, must save the others so my death is not in vain.”

He frowned his annoyance. “Stupid warriors. I didn’t risk my life and Nerti’s to leave you behind. We will all make it out safely. That I promise you.”

Without waiting for permission, he held his hands, now engulfed in a deep green glow, over the bloody gash. Working as his mother had taught him, he began with the deepest wounds. First the damage to organs disappeared, followed by the torn flesh. Though featherless and covered in blood, the rent closed and the bleeding stopped.

“Your wound is healed sufficiently that you may be moved. You are correct. You cannot travel on your own, but I would be a poor wizard if I could not overcome that obstacle.” Standing, he stamped the end of the staff on the ground next to his right foot. Underneath the massive peregrine, a cushion of rose-colored energy gently lifted him off the ground.

Farrell turned to address the crowd behind him. “One of the company will need to pull your wounded friend. His weight will not burden you much, but there will be some extra effort needed.”

A peregrine head appeared just to the left of his ear, the beak of the eight-foot raptor mere inches from his face. The black-mottled feathers tickled his skin.

“Chosen of Lenore, I am Grohl. Before you lies my brother, Takala. I will bear him wherever he needs to go. Know this,” he said, turning Farrell around with his beak. Everyone else, including Nerti, stood behind Grohl. “From this day forward, you will forever be a brother of mine. You are part of my family until the line of Rothdin, my sire, ceases to be.” He bowed his head.

“Mighty Grohl. It was a simple task, not worthy of the honor you do me. Still, I will do all I can to be worthy to be called your brother.” Farrell bowed to Grohl.

By now, the bodies of their enemy covered every inch of the barrier. Chamdon continued to hack in futility at the white energy.

Miceral walked over and pointed to the barrier. “How long will that hold?”

“As long as I want it to. But as long as it remains, we’re stuck here.” He mulled how best to proceed. “So far, they’ve not brought any wizards, but I suspect several lurk at the edge of these beasts. They’re in no rush to attack, given that I’ve killed five of their number. Likely they’re gathering as many wizards as they can before they make a move.”

Miceral smiled at him, twisting Farrell’s stomach and his tongue in knots. Turning to cover his embarrassment, he focused on how many allies he needed to shepherd to the gate. Ten unicorns, including Nerti, nine Muchari, and six peregrines. Takala would obviously be pulled along, but what about the others?

“Forgive my ignorance.” He turned back toward Miceral. “But how fast can a peregrine run? Can they keep up with Nerti?”

“No one can keep up with Nerti, Prince Farrell.” This came from a unicorn standing next to Nerti. “But our feathered friends are quite fleet of foot when the need arises.”

That helped. “Here is what I propose. I need the unicorns to assemble in a wedge on either side of Nerti. She’ll take point with four of you on each side. Peregrines in the center. Grohl, you stay directly behind Nerti. The rest of you cover our rear.” He pointed to the uninjured peregrines.

Hearing no objections, he took the staff from his belt and found two more in his pocket. “I need nine unicorns to pull the energy shield. The tenth has to keep out of formation.”

“Why is one unicorn not involved?” Miceral asked.

“Because once we get moving, someone needs to take me to the back so I can protect our rear.” He gave Miceral a nervous smile. “That, and ten is the wrong number for creating a wedge.”

“Klissmor and I will take you.”

Despite himself, he blushed. “That will be great… er… acceptable.” He nodded slightly toward the still-smiling warrior. Please, Honorus, let him be the one.

Shaking off his desires, he turned to address the others. “I assume you are all attuned to the shield so you can pass through?”

Several unicorns and soldiers nodded. “That is what we were told,” Miceral said.

“Good. Then we don’t need to do anything fancy. Once we start, just stay in formation behind Nerti and make for the gate. As long as we’re surrounded by the escort, nothing short of a powerful wizard can reach us.

“I’m going to use the barrier as a weapon to clear a path. Nerti, follow behind it, grinding anything in your way. I’ll watch for and deal with their wizards. Questions?” Hearing none, he walked toward Nerti.

Before mounting, he stopped to look into her green eyes. “How are you? You’ve handled quite a bit. Do you need more time to recover?”

Nerti looked hard at him, and he felt as if she searched his mind. He relaxed when her expression softened. “Your concern for me is appreciated, but I might ask you the same.” Before he could protest, she added, “I am up to the task Lenore gave me, just as you are for yours. But before we go, I must thank you. Klissmor is my mate. He and I have been companions since the time Lenore set us here to protect Her creatures. I have no words to thank you properly, nor can I repay your gift. But from now forth, I shall bear you wherever you need to go.”

“You honor me, Nerti, but in this I am not worthy. You are Lenore’s to command, as I am the servant of Honorus. I cannot accept your offer, though I’m honored beyond words that you would consider me worthy to bear.”

“The choice is not yours, nor is it mine. Centuries ago, it was told to me by my Lady whom Klissmor and I would be bound to. Klissmor found Miceral long ago. In you, I am certain I have found my rider. Like it or not, we are bound together.” She moved around so he could mount. Before he could get settled, she added, “Miceral asked that I tell you: he is glad I am bound to you as well. He is quite taken with you, Farrell, as much as you are with him.”

He tried to hide his surprise, but without thinking, he turned toward Miceral. The handsome Muchari grinned happily at him. Embarrassed, he gave Miceral a smile and a small wave.

Focus, you fool. It took him a moment to force all thoughts of Miceral, Nerti, and Klissmor from his mind. There would be time for that later.

Passing a short staff to the Muchari on either side of him, he took a deep breath and removed two more silver bracelets from his pocket. The old ones merged into the new ones, thickening and widening.

“Ready?”

He received a chorus of “aye,” “yes,” and “let’s do this” in response.

Touching the three staffs with his mind, he said a silent prayer to Honorus for strength. “Wait for the shield to lead the way, and then take off. The escort will appear after the first step. Stick to the path and maintain formation.”

He took another breath, peeked back at Miceral, who gave him a salute with two fingers, and looked forward. Let’s do this.

With a quick flick, he pulled his staff from his back. The ends of the staff matched the color of the shield he extended in front of him. Turning the staff slowly side to side, Farrell watched the intensity of the shield flicker at the edges. Pulling the staff toward him, he moved it faster, and the wall started to buckle inward. He stopped moving the staff, and energy began to drain into the center. When the ends looked thin and flimsy, he sucked the remaining power into the middle and thrust his arm and the staff forward.

“Now!”

Instantly, the group jumped toward the bright center. As if pushed by Nerti, the energy shot forward, cutting a deep swath through their enemy. Shaken by the assault, those left standing gave way before the charging mass of red energy unicorns.

Klissmor ran just behind Nerti as the wedge tore through the few standing Chamdon in their way.

“Nerti, tell Klissmor I need to get to the back of the formation.”

Floating over her, he slowly drifted back until he felt Miceral grab his shirt. “Straight to the gate, Nerti. I’ll be just a moment.”

Miceral hoisted him onto Klissmor, facing forward.

“I need to be sitting with my back to yours to work my magic.” He maintained the levitation spell until he faced the rear of the group.

Klissmor slowed his pace, causing them to drift behind the swift-moving peregrine. Farrell pulled a two-foot-long ivory staff from his pocket. With a few words, it flared to life. Before he could deploy it, Nerti’s voice appeared in his mind.

“Farrell, wizards have erected a powerful barrier.”

“I’ll be right there.” Holding the glowing rod at arm’s length in front of him, he opened his hand. The staff kept its elevation but drifted away several feet. Staring at the staff, he completed the spell. A blaze of fire eight feet high and twenty feet wide erupted from the ivory. It maintained its distance as the company charged toward Northhelm.

“I’m done here. Take me back to Nerti.”

Klissmor increased speed, moving just behind his mate. Levitating off Klissmor, Farrell reached out for Nerti. Instead of sitting, he folded his legs under him and magically linked himself to the unicorn. He looked back at Miceral, giving him a wink and a smile before facing forward.

His wizard sight immediately found the threat. About seven hundred yards ahead, a score of wizards banded together, ten yards in front of a shield wall that radiated from inside the mountain. They had created a new barrier that would keep Nerti from reaching the gate. After a quick assessment of the shield’s strength, he decided on a plan using what weapons he had left.

Pointing his staff at the spot in the wall he estimated they would cross, he fired a stream of blue wizard’s fire at the barrier. Nine more lines joined his. All ten streams joined just before striking the wall. Farrell locked the energy copies into maintaining the assault, then stowed his staff.

When the enemy returned fire as he had hoped, he smiled. Focusing power from his right hand into his left, he created a multicolored sphere of swirling energy. He raised his left hand into the air, moving the sphere above and to the left of his head. Casting a second spell, he diverted the enemy attacks into the swirling globe in his left hand. He removed his hand, leaving the ball suspended directly above him. As more energy struck the ball, it expanded, getting brighter in the process.

Placing his hands in front of him, shoulder-width apart, he created a second multicolored sphere. He kept it hovering between his hands, siphoning energy from the globe overhead into it. Despite the influx of power, he refused to let the new globe expand. The pressure of containing that much force in a small space caused his hands and arms to shake. As he struggled to keep control, the energy whirled violently inside the globe.

Eventually, the enemy stopped firing. Too late they recognized their mistake.

“Farrell, we draw near.” Nerti’s voice held a note of urgency. “If we collide with that wall, I am not sure we will penetrate it.”

“I’m working on it, Nerti,” he said tersely. “I’m working on it.”

Draining the first globe, he added more power from his own stores. By now, the energy raged inside its container, pulsing brighter and brighter. His entire body shook as he fought to maintain control. He never looked away from the ball, not even to check on the target.

Finally, he let the pressure force his hands apart. The sphere, now glowing white, skipped along the streams of energy from the escorts. As he had hoped, the enemy wizards appeared too absorbed defending against the steady attack to notice what he had been doing.

The globe covered the few remaining yards in a split second. When it struck, the ball detonated on contact, shattering the barrier in a brilliant burst of light. Force met force in a violent explosion, creating a shock wave in all directions.

Riding directly into the maelstrom, the wave struck the energy escorts protecting the small company. The images shielding the group shimmered twice, then disappeared with a flash of light. A grunt escaped Farrell’s lips when his spell dissolved.

The impact and explosion seared everything unshielded in its path, leaving only the charred remains of their enemy. A few wizards survived the shield being blown apart, but they died when the shock wave ricocheted off the shield defending Northhelm.

Left unprotected, Nerti increased their pace. Farrell dropped his legs to resume his seat on her back, but, still disoriented, he misjudged the distance between the two. He slid down but a powerful hand grabbed him before he hit the ground.

Gathered in a pair of arms, he heard Miceral say, “Relax, Farrell, I have you.”

He managed a wan smile. “Thanks.”

The strong arms continued to encircle him as they galloped toward their destination. Even through his grogginess, he felt a tingle of excitement from the contact.

“Feeling better, little wizard?” He could almost hear the smile on Miceral’s face.

“The sudden rush of energy in and out of me caused me some disorientation.” He stammered to cover his embarrassment. “The shock wave was unexpectedly strong, and when it cancelled the spells that created our escort, that power snapped back into me, giving me quite a jolt.” Squirming, he felt Miceral tighten his grip. Rather than resist, he settled back against the armored chest. “I suppose this makes us square. I saved you from the horde of Chamdon; you saved me from being trampled to death. I ought not overestimate my strengths again.”

“From my perspective, you can overestimate whenever you like, so long as I can be there to catch you.”

Unsure how to react to this blatant flirtation, he sought refuge in the familiar. “I’d better shield us before we’re attacked again.”

“No need,” Miceral said. “That little explosion of yours caused devastation on a massive scale. There isn’t an enemy soldier standing within five hundred yards of us. We are just about to….” Miceral paused, and Farrell felt the tingle of passing through a friendly shield. “…enter into our own protective area.”

“Stop!” Farrell shouted. “Let me off!”

Chapter 4

KLISSMOR
STOPPED suddenly and Nerti did too. Everyone behind them swerved to keep their distance. Farrell gave no explanation. He leapt down and turned back the way they’d come.

He raised both hands, and an enormous energy bowl formed over his head. A sudden blast of sickly black-and-red energy ripped through Northhelm’s shield, striking the protective dome and forcing him to his knees. A grunt slipped out of his mouth at the same time Miceral jumped off Klissmor.

“Farrell!”

Raising a hand, Farrell pointed at Miceral. “No! Stay back.” He needed to complete this. He’d been fortunate that the hastily wrought shield held the last attack.

When Miceral continued to close in, Farrell muttered under his breath and threw a barrier between them. He’d apologize later. Right now he needed to focus on defending everyone—including himself.

Another attack ripped through the sky. He struggled to keep on his feet as he hurried to close the circle of energy. Once the ends merged, he launched the new weapon back along the path Meglar’s assault had traveled. Forming a second shield, he anxiously peered skyward. A flash of light on the far horizon brought the hint of a smile to his face. It didn’t answer their problems, but it helped. Without releasing his shield, he engaged his wizard’s sight, looking in the direction where the attacks originated. Seeing nothing, he relaxed.

The barrier dissolved between Miceral and him.

“What was that?”

“What happened?”

“What did you do?”

Questions darted at him from all sides. He waved a hand, dismissing them. He didn’t have time for an inquisition. Then his gaze landed on Miceral, a small frown cutting between the man’s brows, and the urge to explain made Farrell open his mouth. But a slight rumble beneath them had him shutting it again and searching the ground.

His hand went to his endless pocket. After checking the distance to the entrance, the position of the rocks, and the contour of the ground, he settled on a suitable spot. He removed an oddly grooved stick with a large mushroom-like head, half the length of his staff. It looked to be made from a live tree branch, with sprigs of green along the stem.

Using both hands and all his weight, he firmly embedded the stick into the rocky ground.

He stepped back, checking his distance. In one fluid motion, he grabbed his staff in both hands and swung it directly at the top of the stick. When the staff’s metal knob struck the wooden top, sparks flew, and the stick sank farther into the ground, leaving only its wide head visible. A sudden burst of energy pulsed outward. When the flash subsided, a new shield replaced the one Meglar destroyed. Much better. He turned and walked back to the others.

“That ought to give us enough time to get everyone to safety.”

Miceral fell in beside him. A small grin replaced the frown. Farrell liked the way the man’s cheek quirked with the smile.

“Next time”—Miceral’s deep voice sent a shiver through him—“you could warn us we’re under attack.”

“There really wasn’t time for an explanation.” Reaching back, he returned his staff to its place.

Then, catching Miceral’s eye, Farrell gave him a shy wink before placing a hand on Nerti. Almost immediately he snatched his hand back. “Honorus help us!”

Moving so he could look her in the eye, he shook his head. “You’re exhausted beyond your limits.”

Nerti trembled slightly and tried to pull away. Despite his lack of familiarity with unicorns, he grasped her head with both hands and pressed his forehead to hers, just below her horn. He said nothing, and Nerti ceased struggling. For a brief moment, a light blue aura engulfed the pair. When it vanished, he released her and stepped back.

Nerti no longer trembled. He smiled and turned toward the distant gate. “Come, we should get inside. When Meglar recovers from the shock of having his attack shoved down his throat, he’ll probe this area to find out what happened.”

Before he advanced three steps, Grohl barred his way.

“What do you think you are doing, silly wizard?”

“Trying to get inside.” Checking around him, he found everyone staring at their exchange. “What are you doing?”

Grohl didn’t move. “And you expect us to let you walk?”

“Nerti can barely make it back herself, let alone carry me, and though magically weary, I am not—”

A low, deep growl forced him to step back. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him upward. What the…? He landed in front of Miceral. The man’s arms snaked around his waist, pulling him closer. Torn between annoyed, embarrassed, and thrilled at the closeness, he opted for thrilled.

“You could have warned me you were going to do that.” He picked at a loose thread on his shirt. “You almost ripped my tunic off!”

A laugh rumbled from behind him, causing another shiver. Miceral leaned forward, his lips so close Farrell could feel the warmth of his breath. “When I want to take off your shirt, believe me, I’ll do it somewhere more private than this.”

Klissmor began an easy jog toward the now open gate. Acutely aware of how they moved together, he let out a nervous breath. Good thing the others were well ahead. He hadn’t been this embarrassed in years.

“Farrell, are you blushing?” Miceral twisted to his left, and Farrell turned the other way. Not to be deterred, Miceral twisted again. “Your neck is turning red.”

“Fine.” He felt his cheeks warming even more. “Yes, I’m blushing. Your attention, while welcome, is also uncomfortable. I’m not sure what to say or do in response.”

Miceral’s grip seemed to slacken, but he didn’t say anything.

“You are supposed to kiss him, Wizard.” Nerti’s voice bubbled with amusement. “That’s what he wants.”

Honorus help him, could this moment be any more mortifying? Now Nerti was giving him advice? And how did she know Miceral felt that way? This mind-sharing thing was going to be a pain.

“I heard that,” she said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

He laughed and shook his head.

“I missed something, didn’t I?” Miceral said.

Annoyed at the unwanted attention, he tossed caution aside. “Nerti said I ought to kiss you.”

Miceral pulled him closer again. “A wonderful suggestion, I’d say.”

Farrell’s blood rushed someplace other than his face. Don’t notice, don’t notice. Miceral pressed a fraction closer; his warm breath tickled the nape of Farrell’s neck again. He felt Miceral having the same “problem” and smothered a smile. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He relaxed into Miceral’s embrace a little more.

Nerti’s presence entered his mind. “Don’t fear him. He means you no harm. Trust that Klissmor and I would know, and I would not allow him to hurt you.”

He covered Miceral’s arm with his own and interlaced their fingers. From behind, he could almost feel Miceral beaming.

People milled about the entrance, waiting for their arrival. Seeing the gathering crowd, he tensed. Miceral’s grip tightened when he tried to remove his hand.

“Please don’t go shy on me again. It took a great deal of effort to get you to even let me touch you. No one will care. After what you just did, you’re going to be revered by all. It isn’t every day someone is chosen by the Queen Nerti to be her rider, saves the life of a peregrine prince, and rescues a company of Muchari.”

“So everyone in your party is important?” he asked, half in jest.

“Not everyone.” Miceral’s voice lacked any hint of humor. “My companions are my escort.”

“Your new friend is the son of Horgon, leader of the Muchari.”

“Great.” Meant only for Nerti, he said it out loud without thinking. Despite the sarcastic tone, he felt the arm around him tighten for a momentary hug.

When they finally came to a stop, an older man walked over. Sparing him the barest of glances, the man locked eyes with Miceral. “So, who is this you come riding home with, holding him like your mate? It is unfathomable to me that you waited all these years for some silly, soft human.”

Miceral tensed behind him. Farrell tried to get free of Miceral’s grasp, but the arm didn’t budge. “It is disappointing that my father is the only one who cannot accept what Lenore Herself has set for me. Farrell has been chosen by Nerti, who outranks even you in this community.”

“First you leave against my direct orders, and then you bring home”—the man motioned with his left arm toward Farrell—“this.” Horgon glared at his son.

Using magic, Farrell broke free of Miceral’s hug and dismounted. Throwing both arms out to his sides, a shimmering wall of energy surrounded himself and Horgon. When several warriors drew weapons to strike the barrier, peregrines and unicorns interposed themselves around the wall.

He ignored everything going on outside his bubble. When Horgon made a move toward him, he froze the elder Muchari, lifting him off the ground. Levitating himself, he stopped when he could look Horgon in the eyes.

“How dare you treat me like this? Who do you think you are to come to my home and use your cowardly arts on me?” Horgon screamed, trying to free himself from Farrell’s spell.

“Silence!” he yelled. “If not, I will silence you myself. I am Farrell, Prince of Haven, Chosen of Honorus and here at the request of Lenore. Other than Meglar, who is trying to destroy your people, I am the last grand master wizard in the Seven Kingdoms and your only hope of survival. If you wish to live, you will not speak to me in any tone other than one having all the respect due one of my station. I came here at the invitation of your goddess to assist you and your people. I did not fight through Meglar’s entire army to have some small-minded person degrade me.”

Horgon’s eyes burned with anger, but he kept quiet.

Farrell wanted to say more, but a tremendous boom shook the ground.

“That would be Meglar. You live because of this silly, soft human. So next time you open your mouth, keep in mind I can leave and let you deal with that on your own.”

He stepped down, turned away, and dissolved his shield with an absent wave of his hand. After he walked a few paces toward Miceral, he released his hold on Horgon, letting him fall to the ground.

Miceral walked over and took his hand. “Impressive, my fragile little wizard. Who knew there was so much spunk in one so shy?”

The smile on Miceral’s face helped quell Farrell’s anger. “I have a poor control of my temper at times and should not have assaulted him in his own house.”

“No, Father has had it coming for a while. The unicorns and peregrines do not approve of his refusal to accept Lenore’s plans for me. To them it smacks of heresy. It has created something of a rift, as you can see. It’s good for him to see that there are many who don’t care for his ways.”

They walked over to where Horgon’s guards helped him to his feet. Immediately, they interposed themselves between father and son.

Farrell expected to keep walking, but Miceral brought them to a halt.

“Father, allow me to introduce Farrell. He risked his life to save my party after we foolishly did not listen to you and left Northhelm. In the end, we needed rescuing, just as you said. I will submit to whatever punishment you deem appropriate.” Another boom struck the shield wall. “Assuming we get out of here.”

Horgon dusted himself off and motioned for his guards to step away. He sent Farrell another hard look.

Farrell clenched his teeth but didn’t flinch, certain Horgon wanted to see just that. He’d faced worse as both wizard and prince. This man didn’t scare him. Something ever so slight changed in Horgon’s expression.

“Perhaps I am mistaken. This one has more grit than I would expect in one not of our kind.” Horgon gave Farrell the smallest nod. “I thank you for saving my son’s life. It is belated, but I offer it all the same.”

Farrell released Miceral’s hand and crossed both arms across his chest. He let the man sweat a moment, then nodded his acceptance.

Horgon turned to Miceral. “You know I’ll never approve of this… this arrangement. Though Lenore Herself has told me this is Her will, as a father I want my only son to be a prince others will be proud of. I fear people will always think less of you for this.”

“Father, you are stubborn. I love you still and always will, but your silly notion of what is right makes me laugh. The best and strongest of our warriors joined me when I left the city. If they follow me, who else would dare disparage me? And no one will ever look down on Farrell, chosen as he is by Nerti. I cannot change your mind and will not try, but I’ll ask you again to accept me for who and what I am. You ought to be well-pleased that Farrell has an interest in me, given his status as Chosen of Lenore.” Miceral stopped for a moment, then added, “And Chosen of Honorus, I am reminded by Klissmor.”

Another boom. Farrell faced the shield. On the far side of the enclosed area, a wizard directed magic at a spot on the shield that acted as a beacon. Another assault, striking from above, shook the valley. Honorus’s balls, the attacks came fast.

His shield proved equal to the task. For now.

Fear lingered on the faces of those around him. He cleared his throat to reassure them. “The shield is holding without issue. Meglar cannot direct enough power from his great distance to breach my shield. But we must act quickly, for at some point he is likely to come himself and see what defies him.”

Honorus did not intend for Farrell to engage Meglar at Northhelm and certainly not now. Ignoring the lump that used to be his stomach, he walked over to Miceral and gave him a small kiss.

“I believe Nerti suggested I give you that.” His face felt hot, and he knew he turned bright red. “I wanted to be sure that, if I don’t see you again, I didn’t miss my chance.”

Miceral looked stunned, elated, and confused all at once. “Why wouldn’t we see each other again? You’re taking us to Haven, aren’t you?”

Farrell stared blankly at his companion. Haven? Nerti had never mentioned where the Door he opened would lead.

An old woman in a worn but well-kept cleric-wizard’s robe approached. “Greetings, Prince of Haven, student of Heminaltose and Sanduval.” She extended her hand, and he shook it gently. Her strong, firm grip belied the fragile façade.

“I am Mother Glendora. Blessed Lenore sent me from my temple to aid Northhelm. These are my fellow wizards.” She motioned to five old men in wizard’s robes behind her. “We number four more, but they are recovering from their labors and the destruction of our shield. The last attack was far more powerful than anything we faced before and beyond our ability to repel.”

“I’m afraid that was Meglar. He must have sensed my presence when I destroyed most of the wizards in his army.”

“He knows of you?” She arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure. I believe he’s heard of me, but he doesn’t know who I am. I have been a thorn in his side since he killed Sanduval at Endor. The final assault on your shield must have alerted him that a wizard of power was here. Whether he knew it was me or just some wizard, I can’t say.”

“Ah.” She stepped back, regarding him. “I expected you would be a lot older.” She waved her hand as if to tell him she meant no offense. He disliked the comment anyway. “I know grand masters can mask their age, but not to me. While you are mature, your eyes do not speak of great age as Heminaltose’s did. Yours are still young. But I digress. That shield of yours, will it hold against a repeat of Meglar’s assault?”

He focused on her question. “Unless he comes here himself or sends some powerful weapons here to aid his wizards, it will hold long enough for me to open a gate to—ah, Haven, as I’ve just been told.”

“Indeed.” Glendora smiled warmly.

It made sense if he thought about it. Haven had plenty of room and had been expanded to accommodate any of Lenore’s followers forced to seek shelter. Why hadn’t he put two and two together? He saw Miceral wink in his peripheral vision. Perhaps the distractions at hand kept him from thinking straight.

He stood tall and nodded. “We should hurry. Meglar’s assaults have stopped. That can’t be good. Is everyone ready to leave?” He looked to Glendora, Horgon, and finally Miceral, who shrugged and looked at Horgon.

“We are ready,” Horgon said.

“Very well. Where should I open the Door?”

“Our Great Hall is central to much of the complex,” Glendora replied. “It already boasts a small permanent Door, which should make it easier for you to open a larger Door.”

“That will be fine.” He didn’t bother explaining he didn’t need their Door. He looked back at his shield. Meglar’s army, although quiet, still assembled outside the limits. Probably waiting for Meglar to tell them what to do next. They’d better get going.

He turned to Miceral and smiled. “Show me the way to the Great Hall.”

Chapter 5

MICERAL
LAUGHED as they descended into Northhelm. “Did you see his face? The old man almost blew a blood vessel in his head when you kissed me. That was beautiful. I’d have never thought such a shy little wizard would ever do that in front of him. And then how you set him in his place the first time you met him. Honorus’s balls! Even I’ve never done anything like that.”

“My name is Farrell, not little wizard, silly wizard, delicate wizard, or even plain old wizard.” While harsher than he intended, he needed to stop the trend. Now. “As for your father, I’m not sure what in the Eight Gates of Neblor came over me. I was so tired of everyone telling me what to do, insulting me, and calling me something other than my name. He attacked you too. I figured it was time people realized I’m not a child.”

Miceral squeezed his hand. “Farrell, I’m sorry if calling you ‘little wizard’ upsets you. I can’t promise I won’t say it again. I truly mean nothing insulting when I say that.”

“I know, and I don’t really mind you saying it, but does it have to be little, delicate, silly, or soft? Can’t I be your mighty, powerful, incredible, or magnificent something? Something to fit my status?” Farrell struggled holding back a smirk.

Seeming to enjoy the banter, Miceral laughed. “How about I call you Farrell and leave out the superlatives?”

Farrell feigned disappointment. “I suppose that will do, but I did like the sound of ‘incredibly magnificent.’”

“Even that fails to adequately describe what I see when I look at you.” Miceral gave him a big grin. “But with enough time together, I’ll find the right words.”

He stared at Miceral, and his self-doubt returned. Compared to the handsome blond warrior, he was nothing special.

“Do you really want to spend more time with me?” Why would he? “Why saddle yourself with a skinny, unattractive, silly human?”

Miceral motioned for the wizards who trailed them to continue without them. He took Farrell’s hand and led him to a nearby room. “By the Six, Farrell, why would you say such things about yourself?”

Shaking his head, Farrell let out a soft snort. “Because it’s the truth. Look at me, then look at you. Are there no mirrors in Northhelm?”

“Are there none in Haven?” Miceral put his finger up when Farrell tried to answer. “Shh. Let me speak. The long life of a Muchari is considered a blessing from Lenore, but it is a curse when you spend it alone. In a hundred and twenty-nine years, I have never met anyone who tugged at my heart. Until today.”

Silently mouthing Miceral’s age, Farrell eyed his companion more closely.

“You heard right.” Miceral nodded. “Seventy-five years ago, when I was particularly despondent at the prospect of being alone forever, Lenore’s avatar paid me a visit. Have you ever met an avatar?”

Farrell laughed. “Too many times for my liking.”

“Exactly. After the shock of the moment wore off, She told me that She and Her Brother would send me someone to spend my life with, but it would not be soon. To ease my loneliness, Lenore sent Klissmor to be my companion and close friend. She told me, ‘He whom Nerti chooses to be her rider will be the one.’”

Taking Farrell’s hand, Miceral rubbed it gently. “I suppose it’s a bit unfair to you. I’ve waited almost eight decades to meet you, and you only just learned of me. I also know I can be a bit much. It’s just a euphoric time for me. It’s hard to explain, but looking at you I feel I’ve found a missing piece of myself. Normally I’m not this forward, but knowing you’re the one Lenore sent and that you’re so damn adorable makes it very hard for me to not be giddy.”

Miceral talked so fast at the end that Farrell lifted a finger to the man’s lips.

“My turn.” He smiled. “Honorus did tell me he’d send me someone. It’s just that he did it today, right before Nerti showed up. It was almost an afterthought. And He didn’t go into as much detail as Lenore gave you. I suppose that’s the difference between the Mother of Us All and the Sky Father.”

Farrell let out a halting, rueful laugh. Miceral’s eye roll and grin helped calm him.

“I also felt something, but until you just said it, I didn’t know how to name it. Now I do. Completeness. I feel whole. When I first saw you and felt that tug, I hoped you were the one, but how could I know? In my doubt, I moved cautiously. I didn’t want to be disappointed or hurt again.” Farrell shrugged, turning his head. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through his doubts. When he returned his gaze to Miceral, he was met with a pair of warm eyes and a joyous smile. Nodding once, he continued.

“Miceral, I feel the same as you, but it scares me. Losing you scares me more. How silly is that? I’ve known you less than an hour, and I’m afraid to lose what I don’t even have.”

Miceral laced their fingers together and squeezed gently. “You’re not silly. The gods have spoken. It’s hard to resist where Their hands are involved. Foolish would be to fight what you know They want for you.”

Nodding, Farrell forced himself to smile. “So if you can handle my awkwardness and the fact that, at twenty-seven, I’m a mere child compared to you, I can handle your eagerness to ask for my hand in marriage.”

“You really think I want to marry a silly, soft human? Please, a Muchari does have standards, you know. Ask my father.”

Farrell laughed, but after a moment’s reflection, the smile drained from his face.

Miceral’s eyes narrowed and Farrell felt his grip tighten. “What’s wrong? It was a joke.”

A union needed honesty to last. Knowing this didn’t make it easier to tell Miceral the truth. Farrell let out a shaky breath.

“There are things about me you need to know, dark, dangerous things.”

Countering Farrell’s frown, Miceral gave him a smile and a wink. “You mean other than being a fearless wizard who charges entire armies all by himself?”

Despite Miceral’s joke, Farrell didn’t smile back. “My destiny is to face Meglar alone. He killed three of the most powerful wizards of our age. Heminaltose, Sanduval, and his own wife, Queen Zenora of Yar-del, my mother.”

His mind screamed for him to look away, but he couldn’t. Whatever Miceral’s reaction, he needed to see it. Slowly Miceral nodded.

“So that makes your father….”

“Meglar.”

“But Zenora’s father, King Bren, ordered his grandson killed. How can you be him?”

Farrell’s mouth felt too dry to speak. He swallowed twice to wet his tongue and pressed on. “My mother and grandfather created an elaborate scheme to fake my death. Then they sent me to a small temple to Honorus in the westernmost city in Yar-del. After six months there, I was taken to Heminaltose’s school at Haven. No one told me I was really Prince Halloran of Yar-del, and Heminaltose kept me out of sight for years. To all the world, Halloran is dead and Farrell is Heminaltose’s last student.”

Miceral gave him another thoughtful nod but kept silent. Unsure of his welcome, Farrell tried to free his hand. Miceral’s fingers remained firm. His second attempt found him being pulled closer.

“Don’t.” The word came out harsh, but Miceral’s face lacked any sign of anger. “Please, don’t. Why are you pulling away?”

Snorting, Farrell rolled his eyes. “Oh, maybe it has something to do with telling you my father is the insane wizard trying to kill you and your people as well as conquer the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Okay, you win the worst-father contest, but you’re not him. Lenore and Honorus clearly trust you. That’s all that matters. After waiting seventy-five years to meet you, it would be a poor time to second-guess Her.”

Miceral gave Farrell a smile that dispelled some of his doubts, but not all.

“Come here.”

He felt himself being gathered into Miceral’s arms. The desire to get closer suppressed his urge to resist. Pressed against the hard chain mail, he took in Miceral’s scent.

“You reek of Chamdon entrails.” Pushing back, Farrell couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “You really need to change before we do that again.”

The look of shock on Miceral’s face quickly morphed into his ever-present grin. “If you reject me like that, there might not be an ‘again.’ I have feelings, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” He laughed again, and Miceral playfully hit his arm. Farrell grabbed the offending hand and tugged Miceral toward him and into a kiss.

“Apology accepted.” Ducking his head down, the warrior sniffed loudly. Wrinkling his nose, he winced. “I do smell. Sorry. However”—he refused to let Farrell move away—“you asked if I really wanted to spend time with you, and the answer is yes. I trust Lenore to send me the right person.”

“It’s more than just trust, Miceral.” Farrell’s emotions swung back toward despair. “Having to fight Meglar could prove fatal. Our time together could be very short. Are you prepared to live out your centuries-long life after that?”

“If that’s the risk I have to take, so be it. This is a dangerous age. Should Meglar defeat us, the Eight Gates of Neblor will open and Neldin will cover the world in darkness. Rather than worry about a future that might not happen, we should enjoy our time now.”

Miceral inched nearer; their gazes locked. After a moment’s hesitation, Farrell moved closer, his body acting on the desire he felt. Miceral’s hand brushed his face, pushing its way through his hair before pulling their heads together.

Pressing him against the wall, Miceral lowered his head until their lips met.

“Wow.” Farrell’s voice came out barely a whisper, but he knew Miceral heard him.

“Yeah, wow.” Before Miceral could seek a second kiss, Farrell heard the rumble of an assault on the new shield.

“Your dad calling?”

“Not strong enough for it to be him,” he said absently. He assessed the shield through his link. “Must be the remaining wizards trying to weaken the shield. It has had no effect so far, but we should get the evacuation started.”

Miceral stole another kiss, quick but invigorating, before resuming their trek.

Cut into the bowels of the mountain, the Great Hall stretched hundreds of feet in front of them. Globes of wizard’s fire, hundreds of them, gave the room a feel of sunlight. Scanning the layout, Farrell moved confidently. Keeping mental track of his position, he led Miceral to a spot close to the middle of the hall.

“This is where I’ll create the Door.”

Miceral swept the room. “Here?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Arching his eyebrow, Farrell dared his companion to make one.

“Um… no, but why here and not against a wall?”

Farrell laughed. “Really? You want me to give you an answer? Would the spatial requirements of creating a Door mean anything to you?”

Shaking his head, Miceral bowed mockingly. “No, so I’ll leave this for the mighty, powerful, incredible, magnificent wizard to handle.”

“Strong, good-looking, and wise. Honorus outdid himself.”

“Without a doubt.”

The cheek of the man had Farrell grinning, and he quickly drew his staff to remind himself why Lenore had sent him to Northhelm. Miceral turned toward the entrance. Dozens of people milled around, and more entered every minute.

“Since you will not need my help for this, I’ll use this time to gather my possessions. Things might get hectic before the end.” Miceral gave him a wink before spinning on his heel. He turned back just before disappearing to flash Farrell a smile.

Pushing Miceral from his thoughts, Farrell paced out a distance he knew would not exceed the size of the terminus and marked the ends with the tip of his staff. He walked off the distance two more times to be certain, then secured his markers.

Using the first mark, he locked in the initial point. Slowly, he reached as high as he could. A blue-green line of energy sizzled to mark the path his staff followed. When he had secured all four points, he pushed his will into the space framed by the lines.

People carrying their possessions began to assemble behind him in the orderly chaos of an evacuation. Checking for someone in authority, he didn’t find anyone who stood out as in charge.

“Stay back. It’s not safe yet.” Terse, he didn’t want anyone to mistake his words as anything other than an order.

Farrell stepped through the Door and emerged back in Haven. The air felt fresher and crisper than in Northhelm. Keeping his focus, he sent a seeker spell into the complex. Having alerted Erstad and Wesfazial that refugees would be coming, it came as no surprise when soldiers and staff ran into the room within a minute. Before he finished explaining what they could expect, dozens more arrived, with the promise of others still to come. Satisfied Haven understood the situation, he moved back to Northhelm to organize the exodus.

Though the number of people had swelled to fill half the vast hall during his absence, the chaos had turned into a semblance of order. Soldiers lined the room, directing people to various places. Families stacked their property neatly against the walls as they assumed their places in line. Despite how orderly things appeared, the evacuation would still need days to complete. Assuming the shield held.

“My people are ready to receive you.” He pointed to those closest to the portal. “Enter the Door as quickly as you can. The people of Haven will assist you when you arrive.”

He went through with the first group to ensure he spoke the truth. Having practiced this many times before, he needn’t have worried. Everything went as he expected. Better. Dozens of clerics from the temples of Lenore and Honorus had arrived to assist. A senior brother and sister stepped forward.

“Greetings, Lord Farrell,” a priestess of Lenore said. “My brothers and sisters stand ready to receive the Favored of Honorus and Lenore.”

“My thanks, Sister. I admit, I was a bit concerned.”

She graced him with the barest of smirks. “One less worry, my lord.”

Mumbling his thanks, he scanned the room for his mentors. Failing to find them, he stepped through a corner of his Door, hoping to find Miceral. Instead he found Glendora standing by the Door, alternately examining the energy lines and directing others to pass through.

“Your Door is interesting. Heminaltose, my old teacher, taught his best students to create Doors in this fashion.” She turned from the magical construct to smile fondly at him. “You do him proud. I never mastered his technique.”

“I try to honor his memory in all I do. He was….” His eyes started to tear, forcing him to blink. “He was as honorable a man as I will ever know.”

Glendora placed her thin hand on his cheek. “He would be proud of you, Farrell.”

He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Not since breakfast.” His stomach, as if it heard the implied prospect of food, rumbled loudly.

A kindly smile crossed the older woman’s face. “When one serves the will of the Holy Mother, it is not uncommon for our plans to change. Come, let us find you some food. The exodus will take a few days, and we can’t have you fainting from hunger when we need you most.”

Unsure if she meant to chide him for fainting earlier, Farrell didn’t answer. Glendora seemed content to walk in silence, so he held his tongue.

The kitchen was really a military-style dining hall. Northhelm might be evacuating, but soldiers needed to remain until the end. And soldiers needed to eat.

When the pair walked in, the entire room stood at attention.

“They honor you, Grand Master Farrell.” She nodded to people as they passed. “Tales of your deeds have spread rapidly. Grohl made it known you honored his family by agreeing to be his bond brother. Klissmor told all you ride Nerti at her request. Miceral’s guard told of how you rode through an entire army to rescue them. And among the wizards there is talk of how you saved everyone when our shield was not adequate. The whole of Northhelm honors you for one reason or another.”

Red from the unexpected attention, he thanked them as Glendora led him to the food-service area. Helping herself to barely enough to feed a crow, she heaped great amounts of food onto his plate. “I already ate, but you need food. I know what effect high wizardry has on a person. You’ll need all this and more to maintain your shield and the Door at the same time.”

Accepting her wisdom, he did his best not to drop anything she put on his plate. When he could manage no more, she led him to a partially occupied table with two adjoining seats. She asked one young warrior who appeared to be finished to fetch some water. Before Farrell could protest his ability to get his own drink, the eager soldier dashed off to get a tankard of cool water. Farrell had begun to eat just as the lad returned and had to choke out his thanks with a mouth full of food.

“So what really happened out there?” asked a young Muchari soldier. “Did you really blast thousands of Chamdon with your staff?”

“Actually, he created a half dozen unicorns out of energy and had them trample the Chamdon to death.” Miceral’s voice from behind surprised him.

Glendora stood up. “This is where I take my leave and check on the progress of the other wizards. I leave you in the capable and willing hands of Miceral.” She winked at him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, last student of Heminaltose.” She bowed slightly and left.

If her intent had been to embarrass him, she’d done a masterful job. His face felt hot enough to fry an egg. He ducked his head and shoveled down a few forkfuls of food.

Miceral took the place next to him, launching into an account of what had happened. At points Miceral looked to him to further explain things to the rapt audience.

By the time Miceral got to the destruction of their shield, Farrell felt the effects of too much food and too much wizardry. After the third stifled yawn, Miceral told the crowd Farrell needed to get some rest.

“I have to return to my duties, but Ostert will show you to your room.” Miceral put his hand on the shoulder of the young warrior who’d asked the first question. “I’ve arranged to have a guard outside your door in case you need anything or something happens that requires your attention. Also, if your link with Nerti is anything like the one I share with Klissmor, you ought to be able to call her at any time.”

“Nerti?”

“Yes?” Nerti’s voice responded instantly.

“Sorry.” He felt foolish for bothering her. “Miceral told me we were linked. I was just testing it.”

If the communications were really a “voice,” then he “heard” the amusement in her tone. “For good or ill, we are joined until the Goddess tells me otherwise. Hopefully that pleases you. She chose well for me, and I have thanked Her already for pairing me with one so worthy.”

“You are gracious, Nerti, but how could I be anything but honored?”

The tiny hint of her in his mind disappeared. “It works. We’re linked.”

Perhaps his eyes gave him away, or maybe Miceral didn’t want to part, but before he let Ostert lead him away, Miceral drew him aside.

“I wish I could take you myself, but I cannot neglect my responsibilities. I’ll come find you in the morning.”

“I understand duty all too well.” Farrell tentatively reached out his hand. When Miceral grabbed it, they both smiled. He wanted to kiss him good-bye, but in front of so many people, he didn’t know how Miceral would react. They stood staring at each other for a few seconds before Miceral stepped back.

“I better go. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

Miceral let go of his hand, walking backward. After a couple of steps, he turned on his heel and marched out. When Miceral disappeared around the corner, Farrell noticed everyone looking in his direction. Before he became too embarrassed, Ostert moved to his side.

“Come, I’ll take you to your room.” Ostert’s smile seemed genuine. “You look tired.”

“Thank you. I am.”

Ostert peppered him with questions as they walked to his room. What wouldn’t he give for a moment of quiet? Wearily he gave only the briefest answers.

“We’re almost there, Master Wizard,” Ostert said after they’d walked for several minutes. Then, for the first time since they left the mess area, Ostert grew quiet.

“Was there something else you wanted to ask?”

“Well, yes.” Pausing, the warrior looked at him, then turned away. “You do realize Miceral likes you?”

After blurting out the words, Ostert turned back to him. Farrell stared at his guide, unsure why he’d asked the question. How did he answer it, anyway?

“It’s no secret that Miceral prefers men to women.” Now the youth turned red. “I wasn’t sure you knew. It isn’t a problem that he does, or you if you like him back. Miceral’s my friend. I just wanted to be sure you knew.”

Farrell let the silence linger a bit longer than he had planned, and before he could reply, they reached his room.

“This is it,” Ostert said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Thank you, Ostert. I appreciate you walking me here. And to answer your question—yes, I know about his interest. He told me. And yes, I’m interested in him as well, but I appreciate your telling me. It proves you are a true friend.”

He held out his hand, and Ostert clasped his forearm, visibly relieved.

“I’ll stand watch until the assigned guard comes. If you need anything, Master Farrell, just let me know.”

“That’s very generous of you, Ostert, but I’m sure you have many other things to do before you leave. I can manage until the guard comes. Oh, a question if I may, since you asked so many of me.” He couldn’t entirely hide a smirk.

“Of course.”

“How old are you?”

By the look on his face, Ostert neither expected nor welcomed the question. Standing straight up, he answered, “I will be fifty-three this spring.”

Farrell smiled. “Just as I thought, you are near twice my age. That means you must call me Farrell. No more Master Wizard or Master Farrell. If you are my senior, I can’t have you addressing me like that. Besides, it’s unseemly for friends to use titles when addressing each other, don’t you think?”

“Aye, Farrell.” The name came out slightly sputtered. “Sleep well. I’ll check on who is assigned to you and let them know you’re here.” Almost at a run, the Muchari left before Farrell could respond.

He entered the room, calling up a ball of blue light to help the small candle already burning on a small table. With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the flame, adding a second globe to replace it. His gaze skimmed over the washbasin, soap, and some towels on a table near the door and zoomed in on the bed. By the Six, he was tired.

Reaching over his shoulder, he freed his staff, placed it near the bed, and began to undress. Only after he removed his boots did he realize he hadn’t packed spare clothes.

For a moment he considered asking Ostert to find him something to wear but remembered the open Door. Closing his eyes, he “saw” his silk sleeping clothes, a couple of tunics, and an extra pair of pants in his wardrobe in Haven. He intoned the spell, and his clothes sat neatly folded on his bed when he opened his eyes. Problem solved, he undressed, washed up, and crawled under the covers.

His head barely hit the pillow before he fell asleep. The effort of the day finally overwhelmed his desire to remain awake.

“Farrell.” He sat up with a start. Had he imagined someone calling him? How long had he been asleep? Shaking himself alert, he scanned his room for the speaker.

“Farrell.” Awake, he recognized Nerti’s voice.

“Nerti! Is something wrong?” Instinctively, he scanned the shield and the Door but found nothing amiss.

“Nothing is wrong. Miceral wanted to know if you were awake, and if you needed anything.”

Relieved, he smiled as his head sank into his pillow. “Please don’t take offense, but isn’t passing a message from Miceral to me a bit unworthy of you? Why didn’t he come ask me himself?”

“I said as much to him, but I will forgive him. This is his first time being enamored with someone. As for why he did not come himself, he feared waking you if you were asleep.”

“And yet he has no problem letting you wake me.” The sound of his laughter broke the silence.

“Now that you are awake, do you require anything?”

Other than Miceral appearing at his door, he couldn’t think of anything. “No, I’m fine. Tell him thank you for his concern.”

“That is most certainly not the answer he was hoping for.”

“Do I detect you’re trying to give me advice on how to handle this?”

“Yes. At my age, I am well-suited to dispense advice to love-struck children, which you both surely are.” The amusement in her tone made him feel foolish.

“Um, tell him that an escort to breakfast would be nice. Is that better?”

“Prince of Yar-del, do you tease him purposely?”

“No, I just don’t need anything right now.” Nothing he could or would tell her. “Why don’t you just tell me what to say, and I’ll follow your sage counsel?”

“I shall tell him you are tired and need only some rest, but that you would be pleased if he could fetch you for breakfast.” She left his mind, leaving him confused. Slowly, he fell back asleep before his head exploded trying to figure out what to do or say.

Chapter 6

A
LOUD, persistent knock intruded on Farrell’s sleep. Head sunk comfortably in his pillow, he had no desire to get up. “Go away, Lisle, it’s too early.”

Another knock, this one louder, and the door swung open.

“Time to get up, sleepy wizard.” The voice jolted him awake and he sent the sheets flying off the small bed. Oh, Miceral. He blushed, letting go of the spell balled in his hand.

“Sorry I startled you, but the morning meal will be over soon, and I don’t want to miss a chance to walk in with you on my arm.”

Farrell dropped back onto his pillow and pulled the ends up over his ears. “How can it be morning already? I just went to sleep.”

He tossed the pillow aside and went to the washbasin. A few words and a wave of his hand emptied the water from last night. Pouring the remainder of the pitcher into the bowl, Farrell dunked his head in the water.

“Whoa, but that’s cold,” he said, water dripping down his back. Using both hands, he pushed wet hair off his face.

Miceral jumped back, laughing, and handed him a towel. “That’s one way to wake up, I suppose.”

Still wet, he noted Miceral showed no signs of leaving. Rather than seem prudish, he shucked his wet sleep shirt and pants and toweled off as best he could before dressing. Looking in the small mirror beside the door, he ran his hand through his damp hair and pulled it back in a desperate attempt to appear presentable.

“Are you really sure you want to be seen with me? I look wretched.”

Miceral held the door open and smiled. “Only a little.”

The mess area buzzed with activity, but the pair managed to find a quiet spot in the corner. While Farrell ate, Miceral explained that the old and the very young had already arrived in Haven. Many of the nonessential animals had also gone or were going as they spoke. The remainder of the civilians, their possessions and livestock should pass through by sunset, leaving only the warriors to go last.

Shoving the last bit of bread in his mouth, Farrell noticed Miceral staring at him. “What?”

His companion pointedly looked at the empty dishes on the table. “Do you realize you ate twice what I did and more? Where does it go? You’re nothing but skin and muscle.”

Trying to ward off another furious blush, he stacked his plates. “Were you staring when I changed?

A deep, rumbling laugh filled their corner of the hall. “Of course. Why else didn’t I step outside?”

The offhand way he said it coupled with the broad grin had Farrell smiling in return. “Lecherous old man.”

Miceral bowed. “Guilty.”

“Magic, especially high magic, is draining.” Standing, Farrell carried his plates back to the cleaning area. “I can eat that and more and still not gain weight.”

“Okay, back up a little. High magic?”

As they made for the exit, Farrell tentatively reached for Miceral’s hand. The smile his attempt earned him mirrored his own.

“I’ll explain later. Right now I need to send a message to my mentors.” He couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Something wrong?” Despite his obvious concern, Miceral didn’t release his hand.

“No, nothing like that. They run Haven when I’m gone. I need to see that all is running smoothly.”

Miceral motioned to a guard, who nodded and fell in behind them. “Prepare a message, and I’ll see it will be passed into the right hands.”

He wrote out the note and handed it to Miceral. “I suppose you need to get back to the evacuation,” Farrell said, trying not to sound disappointed.

A strand of blond hair flopped onto Miceral’s cheek as he nodded. “Yes, I probably should.”

“Will I see you before lunch?” Too desperate? By the Six, he acted like a love-struck child.

Miceral leaned forward and snatched a quick kiss. “If it’s possible. If not, I’ll make certain to meet you for dinner.”

Alone again, Farrell squeezed his way into the Great Hall, apologizing for his intrusion. Someone started to say something about waiting his turn, but the comment died on his lips when the two made eye contact.

Halfway into the room, Ostert approached, a purpose to his step. “Horgon requested I act as your escort,” he said. “Well, I volunteered when I learned he was going to assign someone to you.”

“Your timing could not have been better, friend.” He clapped Ostert on the shoulder. “I need to go outside to inspect the strength of the shield. Could you please show me to the front gate?”

Ostert smiled. “Easily done, friend.” He motioned with his right hand and turned without waiting to see if Farrell followed.

The pair had to swim against the current of people trying to depart, but once clear of the area around the Great Hall, they had little trouble.

“Ostert, I’m going to need to hide myself from Meglar’s forces,” he said. “I want to take a closer look at the staff and find out what his army is doing. You don’t need to accompany me, but if you wish to come with me, you’ll need to stand as close to me as you can so my spell will hide you as well.”

“I would be a poor soldier if I left my charge while on duty.”

Farrell regarded Ostert, unsure if he’d insulted him. “The choice is yours, but either you hold my hand or stay no more than a hand’s width away while we are outside. The closer you are, the less effort it takes to hide us.”

Ostert laughed in response. “As I said before, our people do not have a problem with same-sex pairings, Lord Horgon’s reaction notwithstanding. Being completely honest with you, I’m not the least bit attracted to you in that way. I have someone whom I wish to join with, and she has agreed to my request. If it’s best to hold your hand to do my job, I’m not going to shy away.” His face took a playful turn. “It is only your hand I have to hold, isn’t it?”

Farrell roared in laughter, then flushed slightly. “You may grip my arm or shoulder if you would be more comfortable, but holding my hand would be best to ensure we don’t lose contact.”

“Then cast your spell, Wizard.” The warrior’s face turned serious. “When you’re done, will we be able to see each other?”

“A fair question. So long as you maintain contact with me, you will be able to see me and I you.” He reached out with his left hand. “If you please. Once the spell is in place, it will be a lot harder to join hands.”

Hands linked, he extended his will, rendering them invisible. Satisfied with the spell, he let Nerti know his plan, and the two set off, exiting into a bright spring day.

It took a few minutes to reach the shield. Farrell placed his free hand on the wood and noted the pulse of the energy remained as strong as when he’d put it there. Thus far, it drew enough energy from the surrounding area to replenish itself. Barring a major offensive from Meglar, the staff should be able to protect them as long as needed.

Moving toward a large rock not far from the edge of the shield, Farrell sat down to observe their enemy more closely.

“How fares the shield?” Ostert whispered.

Farrell kept his focus on the army on the other side of the wall of energy. “You may speak normally. The spell hides voices as well.”

His companion smiled. “I didn’t think to ask until we were outside. When you kept quiet, I assumed it was necessary.”

He gave the warrior a small shrug. “My apologies. To answer your question, it is holding as hoped. Meglar will need to replace the wizards we killed yesterday before he can mount a serious assault. That’s not to say if Meglar showed up in person, he couldn’t easily overpower it.”

Scanning the enemy camp, he shook his head. “So far, the few wizards I see among their ranks are mostly of the lowest level, the type generally used as handlers.”

Ostert peered intently at the opposing army. “The creatures look asleep.”

Not wanting to insult his new friend, Farrell asked, “Do you know the origin of Chamdon?”

Ostert shook his head. “Only that they are created by Meglar.”

“Chamdon were once human. Meglar warped them into what you see using dark magic. He increases their speed and strength by compressing their life expectancy. Our information tells us that Chamdon are stronger than humans by an order of four or five. He is able to achieve this by taking one or two days off their life expectancy for every hour they live. Because of this, Chamdon burn out rapidly. In down times like this, they’re put into hibernation to extend their lives.”

“Are things well between you and Miceral?”

Farrell laughed, blushing at the question. “That was random.”

Staring at the rock, Ostert didn’t meet Farrell’s gaze. “I haven’t seen you two together since last night.”

“We’re fine, thank you for your concern.” Farrell looked off, not focusing on anything. “Though a part of me wonders if this is a wise relationship to begin. My life is fraught with danger that threatens to take me from him at a moment’s notice.”

“Farrell, forgive me for saying this, but you’re being foolish.” Farrell turned to find an earnest look on Ostert’s face. “My position is much the same as yours. I’m a soldier in a time of war. Lillian and I know well the risks. But we didn’t let that stop us from falling in love and committing to each other. We can’t live in fear of what may happen, or else we might wake up one day, the awful thing we feared would be gone, and we would have nothing to show for it but regrets.

“Miceral was my training instructor, and I consider him a friend. I may not be his best friend, but he is mine. That may sound foolish or make me seem simple, but it’s still true. When I needed a friend, I turned to him, and he was always there for me. I suppose what I’m saying is, he’s worth the risk. If you really are the one he has been waiting for, you would be a fool to let him slip away.”

Farrell chewed on the advice. Nodding several times, he smiled, still looking ahead. “Your words are wise and well-spoken, Ostert. I know in my heart you’re right, but I still fear the future. You and Lillian will be an example for me whenever I feel doubt creeping back. Thank you.”

“It’s what friends do for each other.” Ostert’s grin made Farrell laugh.

“Yes, that is indeed what friends do.” He scanned the enemy camp again. Finding nothing new, he said, “There’s nothing more to see here. Let’s go back and see if my friends have responded to my note.”

On their way to the Great Hall, a messenger stopped them and handed Farrell a note.

Farrell,

In your absence we are occupied running the place and assisting the new people with settling in. Unless this is an emergency, we should talk when you get back.

—W

“Bad news?” Ostert asked as Farrell reread the note.

“Not really, just they have a lot going on and would rather not come here unless it’s urgent, which it’s not.” His smile did little to mask his disappointment.

“Hungry?”

Farrell nodded. “I had hoped to meet Miceral for lunch, but I suspect that’s not going to happen.”

“Let’s hope my company can make up for his absence.” Ostert winked, motioning in the direction they needed to go.

Following lunch, Farrell had little to do. Neither the Door nor the shield required his attention, the evacuation moved apace, and Miceral had other tasks that kept them apart. Parking himself in a corner of the Great Hall, he tried to excuse Ostert for the afternoon so he could meditate.

“My commander bade me stay with you in case an emergency arises.” He took a position close to Farrell. “Generous as your offer is, I cannot abandon my post.”

Stifling a sigh, Farrell sat down on the floor. “Can you sit and talk, or would that be against orders as well?”

Joining his charge on the hard surface, Ostert laughed. “I believe it’s compatible with my duty.”

They spent the afternoon talking about nothing in particular. At one point, Farrell created an image of Haven and Gharaha to show Ostert his new home, but when this attracted a large crowd, he dispersed the diagram and refrained from any further magic. Eventually, they just sat quietly, commenting whenever something interesting entered the Great Hall.

Miceral reappeared around dinnertime, at which point Ostert excused himself, looking relieved. He mumbled something about needing to check on Lillian and her family.

Left alone, they made their way to the soldiers’ kitchen. After they collected their food, Miceral motioned them away from the seating area.

“Unless you really want to eat here, I have a more private place in mind.”

Unsure what to make of the request, Farrell nodded and followed Miceral. By the third turn, he noted considerably less wear on the stone than in most of the corridors he’d seen. Obviously Miceral’s private place required they leave the more well-traveled hallways.

They stopped in front of an alcove cut with a bench carved from the wall. “I used to come here when I wanted to be alone to think.”

Wide enough for two, the seat had a ledge on either side for their trays.

Looking far away, Miceral swept the space with his eyes. “I always expected I would get a chance to share my favorite places with you. Well, not you, but the person Lenore sent, which really is you.” They laughed at his tortured thought. “Soon, all those special places will be gone, and I’ll never be able to show you any of them.”

Miceral’s face reflected the loss Farrell understood so well. Meglar had conquered Yar-del, and he could not show Miceral his ancestral home either. He reached over and squeezed the big hand, smiling back when their eyes met.

Miceral’s face brightened. “This place, however, I had to show you. This is where Lenore told me to be patient and She would send me someone special. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. Sharing this place with you gives a sense of completion to Her promise.”

Miceral put his arm around Farrell and pulled him close. He rested his head against Miceral’s shoulder, and they sat quietly, forgetting about their food. Miceral gently stroked his head, kissing the top occasionally. After a few minutes, Farrell closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

“We should eat.” Miceral’s voice jolted him from a near slumber. “You especially.”

Reaching for his plate, Farrell rolled his eyes. “What, you don’t require food?”

“Watching how much you ate at breakfast, I asked Glendora if that was normal.” He broke off a hunk of bread and handed it to Farrell. “She told me that even when you appear to be resting, you’re exerting a fair bit of effort maintaining the two spells.”

Farrell let a smirk crease his lips. “She made you promise you’d make sure I ate as a condition for letting you take me on this excursion, didn’t she?”

Miceral’s cheeks got the barest hint of color before he nodded. “She did, so eat up, or else she threatened to find you and watch you eat in front of her.”

Farrell smiled and began eating. He didn’t bother to tell Miceral he would have eaten without the prodding.

Farrell took a bite out of a piece of cold chicken and saw Miceral staring at him over a small hunk of bread. When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he put his plate down. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Miceral seemed startled by the question. “No. Not wrong.” After taking barely a nibble from his bread, Miceral put it down and let out a sigh. “I have a question that has been gnawing at me since yesterday, but I’m afraid it will offend you.”

“By the Six, that must be some question to worry you so.” Farrell tried to put as much humor as he could into his words to hide his anxiety.

“No, nothing like that.” Staring down at his food, Miceral nodded once and then looked up. “Yesterday you said you were the son of Zenora and Meglar.”

Picking at his food, Farrell swallowed loudly. “I am.”

“But no one knows you are really Prince Halloran—well, King Halloran now, I suppose.”

“Correct.” Farrell suspected he knew what Miceral wanted to ask, but kept silent.

“So who’s Prince Farrell? I mean, you’re not prince of Haven because you were Prince of Yar-del. Don’t people ask questions?”

Farrell let out a nervous laugh, relieved by the source of Miceral’s curiosity. “Heminaltose told people I was the son of a wizard who was a descendant of the house of Hevnor.”

“Hevnor?”

Rolling his eyes, Farrell gave Miceral a mock frown. “I can see Muchari don’t concern themselves with world history.”

“Hey.” Miceral kept his offended look for a second before he smirked. “Human history is not a priority for a Muchari student.”

“Well, had they taught you world history, you would know that Hevnor was Kel’s younger brother. Honorus appointed Hevnor king of Kentar and with Kel’s help, Hevnor and his descendants unified Dumbarten under Kentar’s rule.”

Miceral nodded, then shook his head. “So how does that make you prince of Haven? I thought Haven was created to house the displaced survivors.”

Putting his food down, Farrell drained half his cup. “When Heminaltose created Haven, he meant for it to be a school for wizards. For centuries that was its sole purpose. My grandfather and my mother, even Sanduval, trained at his school.

“When Meglar betrayed my mother, he also stole most of Yar-del’s Source. That prevented my grandfather and mother from attacking Meglar. And it gave him a huge advantage that we never overcame.

“Anyway, that’s a long way of saying after Meglar fled Yar-del, Mother and Heminaltose knew they needed to plan for the worst. Heminaltose transformed his school into a place capable of housing tens of thousands of people. It took almost fifteen years and hundreds of wizards, but they carved out enough space for not only Yar-del, but the other kingdoms as they fell.

“When my master died, Sanduval took over Haven. Yar-del had no king or queen and no heir, so he declared me Prince of Haven and told the survivors of Yar-del they could either accept me as the ruler of Haven or find somewhere else to live.”

Miceral opened his eyes wide. “That must have been a fun conversation.”

“Master Sanduval had just lost the man who was like a brother for eight hundred years. He was in no mood to deal with the squabbling nobility. Besides, there really wasn’t anyone else who had a solid claim, and if we ever take back Yar-del, I am the rightful heir, so it made sense to them.”

Farrell pulled apart a piece of chicken and chewed it without much interest.

“Thanks for telling me,” Miceral said, breaking the silence. He put a hand on Farrell’s leg and gave it gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for bringing up such bad memories.”

“It’s okay. You have a right to know.”

Miceral smiled and squeezed Farrell’s leg again. “Okay, now you need to eat. If you don’t, Glendora won’t give us any time alone again.”

LONG
BEFORE Farrell wanted to go, they needed to leave. Miceral drew him closer and pressed their lips gently together. The soft, gentle kiss turned into a deeper, more searching one before they both leaned back. Catching his breath, Farrell kept his eyes fixed on Miceral’s perfect blue ones.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Now we’ll both have memories of this place.”

Miceral gave him a last lingering kiss that made his heart beat faster. Savoring what might be their only private time for a while, Farrell missed the touch as soon as it ended.

When they met with Glendora, Horgon, and a few others Farrell didn’t recognize, everyone agreed to keep the Door open against the need to retreat in a hurry, but no one else would go through until morning. Northhelm would use the time to pack and bring everything remaining to the Great Hall for one quick exit tomorrow. It also allowed Haven to rest for the night.

When the meeting ended, Glendora turned to him. “Despite your best efforts, you appear asleep on your feet.”

“I’m fine, Holy Mother. I just—”

“Shush.” A curt wave of her hand choked off any further argument. “Unlike the others, I know how much effort it takes to keep both shield and Door open. You are hereby directed to get some sleep.”

“Miceral.” Horgon’s voice drew everyone’s attention. “Why don’t you take Farrell to the soldiers’ dormitory? Should the need arise tomorrow, he needs to be well rested.”

Farrell watched as Miceral cocked his head, staring at his father. When he blinked, Miceral bowed his head, the edges of his lips showing the beginning of a smile. “Of course, Father.”

Although he wanted to ask what just happened, he struggled to keep awake as Miceral guided him to a large hall filled with cots and a few wash areas. Miceral led him to a pair set off from the others in a far corner.

“Rest well.” He gave Farrell a gentle kiss on the lips once they reached their destination. “I’ll join you soon. There are a few things left to deal with before morning.”

“Hurry back,” he whispered as Miceral left.

Chapter 7

FARRELL
WOKE to a gentle shake. Seated on the edge of the cot, Miceral smiled down at him.

“Sorry to wake you, but we need to break down this room.”

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up, stretching his slightly stiff limbs. A quick glance told him all the other cots were empty. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

Miceral shrugged, passing him a plate of cold food. Two cups of coffee sat on the floor by the end of the cot, away from where Farrell might step. “There was no need for you to get up sooner. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve only been up ten minutes myself.”

“A bit.”

Amid the frenzy of activity, the pair sat, quietly eating what might be their last meal of the day. When the soldiers inched closer, Miceral motioned toward the exit with his head.

Farrell stepped into his boots and followed him to the Great Hall. A quick kiss, a hand squeeze and smile, and Miceral left.

From the activity in the Great Hall, he knew Northhelm had nearly completed its evacuation. The sea of people leaving was absent. The soldiers and remaining support personnel formed a human chain, passing box after box down the line and into Haven. Standing by the Door, Glendora waved him over.

“Today will be the end of your efforts.” She gave him a genuine, although regretful, smile.

He nodded, glad to be going home. “Do you know how long it will take to finish the evacuation?”

“By afternoon all should be gone. We made good progress yesterday. With you holding the shield, Northhelm’s wizards were able to assist more than expected.”

“I could make this”—he waved at the boxes—“go quicker if it would help.”

“As could I, but your people requested we not use magic. They were having difficulty taking control of the objects once they passed through the door.”

Farrell considered her words and nodded. Glendora excused herself and left the hall. Feeling useless, he offered his help to an officer who appeared in charge.

Never turning to look at him, the man said, “Relieve a soldier and send them to me for a new assignment.”

Scanning the line, Farrell found the nearest soldier and told him to report to his commander. Surprised, the warrior allowed Farrell to take his place and walked off.

Once in position, he accepted a box from the woman next to him. Despite how easily she moved it, he nearly dropped it.

“Great Holy Sky Father,” he muttered. Before the next box arrived, he magically increased his strength.

He maintained his place, helping with the mindless task until almost noon. The extra strength remained constant and made the work easy. As he passed a small box to the man to his left, he saw Miceral enter the hall. He scowled as he scanned the room until their eyes locked.

Instead of coming to him, Miceral walked behind the Door. Slightly disappointed, Farrell couldn’t leave without disrupting the evacuation. Hidden by the Door, Miceral’s angry voice brought the line to a halt.

A moment later, Miceral rounded the Door, yelling at the officer Farrell had spoken with earlier. Miceral stopped a foot from Farrell, his jaw clenched.

“What in the name of the Bright Lady do you think you’re doing?”

Farrell recoiled at the unexpected greeting. Face red, he glared back.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The room went silent, and he felt everyone staring at them.

“Farrell.” Miceral’s tone softened considerably as he swept his gaze around the room. “Glendora saw you here and berated my father. Father, of course, knew nothing about it but was irate that some idiot put you to work moving boxes while you’re maintaining the spells vital to our survival.”

He stared at the red-faced officer until the man motioned for another soldier to come over.

His anger gone, Farrell realized his mistake. “I was standing around doing nothing. This was my way of helping.”

“You are helping more than anyone else. Come away.” Miceral grabbed his hand and gently pulled him from the line. “This soldier is taking your place. My orders are to bring you directly to Glendora so you don’t try this again.”

Farrell turned away from Miceral as he felt his ears warm. Mumbling an apology to the officer, he let Miceral draw him away.

Miceral kept silent, leading him from the hall. Finding an empty spot, he finally turned around. “Farrell, I’m sorry for how I reacted. It was wrong of me to yell at you in front of everyone. You deserve better from me.”

“Thank you.” He leaned in to kiss Miceral’s cheek. “I’m sorry too. I should know better. All I did was drag you away from something important.”

Smiling, Miceral returned the kiss. “Getting to see you beats what I was doing. Let’s get something to eat before I carry out the last of my orders and deliver you to Glendora.”

THEIR
UNREMARKABLE lunch ended far too soon. Before Miceral returned to his duties, he escorted Farrell to where Glendora and the other wizards sat eating their cold food.

“Didn’t trust me?” Farrell rolled his eyes.

Leaning in, Miceral kissed him gently on the lips. “I did, but I wanted to stay as long as possible.”

Blushing, he watched Miceral until he turned a corner.

“Fear not, young prince.” He recognized the voice and knew Master Jameson stood just behind him. “There will be time enough to get to know each other better when this crisis ends.”

Farrell nodded but continued to stare at the empty corridor. He sensed someone approach before he felt the hand on his shoulder.

“Since you wish to be useful,” Glendora said with a hint of disapproval, “you can help remove the maintenance spells.”

“Why not just issue a general cancel spell?” He finally turned toward the wizards waiting for him. Each looked at him, most with furrowed brows. “If I cast the spell, I can dissolve the bindings on all spells at once, exempting only those we still need.”

“Impossible!” a gray-haired female said emphatically. “Without making contact with the individual spell, you cannot void it.”

“That’s true for higher spells such as defensive magic or combat magic. Nor could I undo spells someone put considerable efforts to hide or shield. But we’re talking about passive magic that handles quality-of-life tasks. Purifying the air, cleaning the water, lights, and removal of sewage are all mundane spells not worthy of sealing off or protecting.”

Glendora shrugged, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Master Farrell, your skills surpass ours. Since we can’t be sure none of the spells are shielded, it would be best if we continue as we’ve been doing. We should be finished before it’s time to go. If not, you can attempt your spell at that time.”

Farrell nodded, receiving a warm smile in return. The priestess paired him with Bartholomew, a spry, heavyset wizard who insisted Farrell call him Bart. Master Bart led the pair to their assigned location, and they began the tedious work.

At first, Farrell held back, not wanting to embarrass his partner. After dissolving several dozen spells, Farrell forgot himself and just cancelled the next spell.

Bart’s face cracked into a wide grin. “Please don’t hold back on my account. By nature I’m a lazy man. Why do you think I’m so fat… well, fat for a wizard? If you can complete our assignment quicker without my aid, I’m content to watch and see if I can learn something.”

Shrugging off his embarrassment, Farrell held out his staff. “If you insist.”

“Are you going to cancel them all at once?” Bart asked with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Sorry, Bart. Glendora told me not to do that.” His companion looked disappointed. “But while I can’t let loose a general spell on the entire complex, I can cast it about us and let it work as we walk.”

“Fascinating.” Bart waved his hand and Farrell cast the spell.

In the time it took them to walk their route, Farrell completed their task. When they returned to the common area, Bart told him to sit down and relax. Moments later, Bart returned with two tankards of watered-down ale.

“My treat for a job well done, friend.” He plopped into a chair and put his feet up. “Now, Master Farrell, tell me how you did that.”

Farrell smiled, took a drink, and answered. Bart interrupted several times, peppering him with questions. At the end, Bart attempted the spell without success.

“Clearly, knowing how to do something and doing it,” he said cheerfully, “are not the same.”

With time to spare, the two discussed all manner of topics. Farrell spent most of the time answering the endless questions the jovial man thought up. When Bart began to ask about his obvious interest in Miceral, he tried to avoid the topic. Fortunately, several wizards straggled in before Bart could pry too much.

“Saved by the arrival of others.” He gave Farrell a wink and greeted his friends.

By the time the last wizard returned, the evacuation had neared its end. Once the remaining soldiers made a last sweep of the facility, they’d gather what remained and join the others in Haven.

He was listening as Glendora instructed the remaining wizards on the last steps of the exodus when suddenly the ground shook. A thunderous boom reverberated throughout the complex, followed by a second assault and then a third. All eyes turned to him.

Nodding, he said, “Meglar. I need to get back to the front gate.”

Moving together, the wizards exited into the nearly empty corridor. Bart tapped his shoulder, pointing left.

“That way.”

“Wizard.” He stopped. Nerti’s voice in his mind did not convey a direction. Searching, he found her coming from behind. “Your shield is under attack. We must go to be sure it does not fail!”

Grateful for her offer, he hopped on, and she took off. Reaching out with his senses, he felt the damage Meglar’s wizards had inflicted. Without reinforcement, the shield would fail well before the remaining residents could escape.

Nerti raced through empty corridors, bringing them to the entrance before he finished his assessment. In the waning light, Farrell quickly located the point of attack.

Three wizards, dressed in scarlet and black, huddled together, each keeping a hand on a long black staff. They peered skyward, as if waiting for something. When a powerful blast ripped through the air, they fired, timing it so the two attacks hit at the same time.

“Is Meglar here?” Miceral’s sudden appearance caused Farrell to turn.

Where? How did he…? Doesn’t matter. Focus!

“No, as expected, he sent wizards from his inner circle.” Pointing to the three wearing Meglar’s personal colors, he started to stare at Miceral before shaking it off. He needed to focus on keeping the shield intact. After a moment’s assessment, he felt his stomach tighten. The barrier would fail—and soon.

Despite the danger to everyone, Farrell admired the ingenuity of Meglar’s attempt. By themselves, the wizards had no hope of breaching his defenses. Even with the attack concentrated on a small area, Farrell’s shield would not fail. Meglar, however, changed the equation by spreading his own attack over a greater surface. This pulled energy from all around to shore up the shield. The three wizards timed their smaller, focused attack to coincide with their master’s. Eventually, the narrow blast would force a breach and destroy the shield.

Farrell leapt from Nerti’s back and circled the pulse of green energy that created the shield. Suppressing the desire to lash out at his enemy, he decided on his next step.

“I need three rocks, as large as you can manage, each about the same size. Place them east, south, and west around the top of the spike.” He pressed his staff on the spots he wanted the rocks, leaving behind light blue markers in the dirt.

“Right away,” Miceral said.

Focused on the button of wood at his feet, Farrell barely noticed his companions leave. Meglar’s attack changed the energy flow significantly. He couldn’t fix it without bringing the entire shield down.

“Meglar must be pleased with himself.”

“Why do you say that?” Nerti’s response surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say that “out loud.”

“Because he thinks he has me by my britches. He sees two options: let the shield fail or take it down myself. Both open Northhelm to an attack by his forces.”

“You see a third.” Her confidence gave him a boost.

“Create a new shield before the old one fails.” No easy feat but certainly possible.

Peering up, he saw the three black-and-red-robed wizards conferring. Lesser wizards started to gather a few paces behind them. With barely a thought, he fired several bolts of energy at the group.

The three dressed in royal colors staggered slightly, and he managed to singe the robes of several of the lesser wizards. He had expected stronger shields. He had only meant to disrupt their focus.

Killing them would buy Northhelm time, but it might also draw Meglar to the fight. Farrell decided to save that as a last option. Miceral’s return interrupted his internal debate.

Hoisting a stone the size of a large pig, he asked, “Will this do?”

Blinking, Farrell realized he’d forgotten Miceral’s strength when he made the request. But bigger worked better for his plans. “Perfect. Put that here, please.” He motioned to the western position.

Miceral did as instructed, then quickly moved to where Klissmor and Nerti were pushing another rock into the open space. Standing over the stone, Farrell held his staff in both hands. He extended it over the stone and moved it up and down. The rock started to glow a soft pink, pulsing from dull to bright in time with his cadence.

Moving in perfect sync, he slammed the metal end of his staff onto the rock as it surged its brightest. Light exploded, causing gasps on both sides of the shield. When the flash dissipated, a column of pink energy about the height of his staff emanated from the rock.

“By the Six, Farrell. Next time warn me.” Miceral stood behind him with the second stone in hand.

“Sorry.” He pointed to the southern point. Just beyond Miceral, the enemy milled about, staring in his direction.

Maintaining control of the first stone, Farrell circled to the next. Before he positioned himself, an enormous blast of black-and-red energy struck the shield from above. As he’d anticipated, working such high magic brought a swift and much more powerful response from Meglar.

Meglar’s assault seemed to stir the wizards into action. Now they directed a constant stream of power at a point chest-high near Farrell’s position. Standing on top of the second rock, he pointed his staff at the wizards and watched with satisfaction as two flinched. The loss of focus caused the attack to sputter, disrupting its effectiveness.

His success proved short-lived as the next two blasts struck in unison, causing a larger drain on his shield. Farrell felt a sense of urgency in his enemy’s attack.

Again he struck back at their shields with only enough force to rattle them. Turning back to his work, he regretted leaving Glendora and the others behind.

The southern rock pulsed pale blue under his staff. He felt the renewed assault, noting it lacked the same punch it had moments ago. He almost felt sorry for the hapless fools. They had no idea Meglar already considered them dead. When the wall gave way, the spillage would be enormous, easily overpowering their pitiful shielding.

Timing his efforts, he slammed his staff onto the stone seconds before Meglar’s next attack. The flash caused the three wizards to flinch, momentarily halting their assault. When the blast of energy arrived, it hit the shield with little effect.

A blue column joined the pink as Farrell moved to the eastern point. Miceral had already placed the rock over the designated spot and stood to the side, watching.

“Move behind those rocks.” Farrell pointed his staff toward an outcropping about fifty feet away. “Once I set this last spell, the energy released could burn you all. I can protect you better over there.”

Staring intently, Miceral finally turned to Klissmor and did as instructed. Farrell quickly erected a small but powerful shield in front of the rocks.

By now the attacks were coming faster, and he could feel the original shield failing. Soon, one of the assaults would overwhelm it, creating a cascading effect and causing the spell to implode.

The last stone turned violet under his staff. Working carefully, he ignored Meglar’s wizards. He couldn’t rush a spell this powerful. All three anchors needed to be of equal strength for him to calibrate it properly.

Nearing completion, he felt the green wall that protected him begin to waver. Matching his movements to the pulses of light, he brought his staff down hard on the purple stone just as Meglar’s latest attack destroyed his old shield.

A massive surge of energy exploded from the Cytus wood, sending a hail of energy-infused splinters in all directions. Green energy pulsed from the ground, colliding with the black energy from Meglar’s attack.

The shards of wood struck first, dissolving against Farrell’s personal shield. A dozen of Meglar’s lesser wizards fell under the barrage of deadly missiles, including one of the three newcomers. The other two managed to avoid injury, but only for a matter of seconds.

The pulse of green energy spread out in concentric circles, pushing the remains of Meglar’s attack with it. Coming from the southeast, the black energy ricocheted backward toward the enemy marshaling for an attack. The raging force of power washed over Meglar’s troops, killing everyone in its path.

Amidst the torrent of swirling magic, three columns of energy forged skyward. Pink, blue, and violet light merged fifty feet above, combined into a knot of power, and cascaded down to replace the shield Meglar had destroyed. The new shield settled firmly in place just before another assault struck from above. The black energy rolled over it, sizzling as it burned on contact.

Working at the center of the conflagration, Farrell did not escape unscathed. Though his personal shield repelled the attack, there had not been time to anchor it. Mere feet from the focal point of the explosion, Farrell was tossed like a scarecrow toward Northhelm’s entrance by the energy waves.

He slammed into the ground, head bouncing off the hard-packed dirt as the breath whooshed from his chest. Dazed, he released his grip on his staff. As it rolled from his hand, he heard someone scream his name. Before he could answer, he lost consciousness.

A welcome caress of blackness enveloped him but lasted only a moment. From two sides he felt a gentle pull. One he recognized as Nerti’s mind; the other felt like a male. Grasping both, he felt himself soar toward a distant light ahead.

Slowly, Farrell opened his eyes. Nerti and Klissmor had their heads dipped over him, their horns touching his head. Looking past them, he saw Miceral’s face break into a wide smile.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” he said to Miceral, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re going to get the wrong impression of me.” He managed a weak smile but didn’t try to move.

Miceral let out a nervous laugh before bending down to kiss Farrell’s forehead softly. “And what impression is it you don’t want me to have?”

“That I’m a fragile little wizard you need to constantly pick up.”

Miceral maneuvered around and gave him a deep, passionate kiss that ended in another laugh.

Farrell chuckled softly. “Now that’s what I call a kiss.” Smiling, he put up no resistance when Miceral scooped him from the ground. Content to stare at Miceral’s face, Farrell reluctantly turned his attention to the rapid succession of attacks on the new shield. Their muffled thud brought a nod of satisfaction from him.

“Whatever you did, it seems to be working.”

Staring at the shifting colors of the new shield, Farrell turned when he heard horses running from the entrance. Wesfazial and Erstad galloped toward their position, followed closely by Glendora, Horgon, and a company of guards. They pulled to a halt with Wesfazial in the lead.

“I ride my old bones on a spirited horse to save you, and I find you in the arms of a handsome soldier.”

“Nice to see you too, Wesfazial. I’m fine, by the way.” He smiled at his mentor who, despite his crotchety tone, gave him a genuine smile in return.

Farrell turned toward Miceral and said, “At least he called you handsome.” Miceral set him down but kept an arm around Farrell’s waist. “Wesfazial, may I introduce Miceral, son of Horgon, whom I see you met.”

Miceral bowed but kept close to him. “Good to meet you, Master Wesfazial. Farrell has spoken highly of you.”

“You don’t need to lie for the boy.” Wesfazial nodded, a smirk pushing aside his concern. “I know what he thinks of me.”

“Where’s Erstad?” Farrell looked around until he saw his other mentor standing by the energized rocks.

Though he didn’t need the help, he let Miceral hold him until they reached Erstad. Without warning, the elderly wizard spun around.

“Astounding. Where did you learn this?” Without missing a beat, he turned slightly to his right and added, “You must be Miceral. Pleased to meet you, lad.”

“I came up with the idea after reading something in a book in Heminaltose’s library.”

“Impossible.” Wesfazial’s denial took Farrell by surprise. “I’ve read every book in that library, as has Erstad. There’s nothing in there about this type of shielding.”

“Well, no, there isn’t, but there are some references to higher magic that only a grand master can work.” He turned his head from one to the other. What had them so worked up? “I experimented with those on a smaller scale and implemented it here today.”

“And you never thought to tell us about it?” Erstad asked, directing them toward the gate.

“No disrespect, but neither of you are grand masters. I didn’t think it made sense to discuss my theories with you if you couldn’t understand the magic involved.”

The two looked at each other, something that Farrell had seen them do many times over the last eight years. Hearing nothing further, he let Miceral lead him to Nerti and Klissmor.

“We should get back to the Door,” he told everyone. “Eventually Meglar will show up to see what happened. My hope is we’ll be gone by then.”

“Are you going to leave the stones for him to study?” Erstad asked.

“No.” Farrell mounted Nerti. “The spells are keyed to my presence. Once I close the Door, they’ll wink out, leaving nothing but stones with residual power.”

Everyone kept silent as Horgon led them back toward the Great Hall. Once inside the front gate, Erstad turned, muttered a few words, and waved his hand at the entrance. It and all the empty space around it turned into a solid wall of rock. Farrell turned to the elderly wizard, a look of confusion on his face.

“Wizardry had a hand in building Northhelm.” Erstad shrugged. “It’s only fitting I undo the spells before we leave for good. It will further hinder Meglar’s efforts to learn anything from this place.”

“By the Six, how simple am I?” Farrell swore. “I could have sealed the mountain like Master Erstad is doing and not had to rush out to create a new shield. Meglar’s forces wouldn’t have reached us before the evacuation was complete.”

“Sometimes age beats strength.” Glendora sounded like his former teacher.

Feeling foolish, he nodded but didn’t say any more. They continued in silence, the tunnels quickly returning to earth and rock behind them

When they reached the almost desolate hall, only a few soldiers remained.

Moments after their arrival, the doorway to the hall turned back to its native rock. Even the size of the chamber slowly shrunk. One by one, the soldiers stepped into the Door until only the four wizards, Miceral, Nerti, Klissmor, and three horses remained. Farrell motioned for everyone else to go through.

“What of you?” Miceral asked.

“When I leave, I’m going to turn off the spells that created the shield.” Everyone but Miceral moved for the Door. Before he left, Miceral leaned over to kiss him again.

“Hurry through. There’s nothing left to protect.” Miceral gave him a playful wink. “That and I’m anxious to see your home.”

“I will, but I want to be sure I leave no trace of where we went. I need the Door to dissolve itself before the chamber closes in on it. It won’t take but a moment. Then I will show you our home. Now go.” He motioned toward the Door. “Just wait for me on the other side.”

Alone, only the glow from the Door lit the slowly shrinking room. He could feel that Meglar’s attacks had increased considerably but hadn’t weakened the shield much. He considered exploding the stones but decided to time his departure for a moment before the next assault. Once he removed the shield, Meglar’s next blast would destroy everything in its path.

Certain he had the pattern of Meglar’s attacks correct, Farrell spoke the spell that would unmake the Door once he left Northhelm. Even if Meglar somehow found his way through the mountains to this spot, he would find nothing of value.

Stepping through after one attack and before the next, Farrell felt the shield wink out. He knew Meglar’s energy would incinerate everything around it, even the stones. The mountain shook, disturbing nothing but earth and rock. As the last of the Door disappeared, so did his link to the now extinct Northhelm.

Chapter 8

FARRELL
TURNED from where the Door had been and looked for his friends. Erstad and Wesfazial stood by the exit talking to Glendora. Two very deferential clerics of Lenore fawned over Nerti and Klissmor as they led them to their quarters. That left Miceral alone.

He turned to Miceral, letting his lips curl up in a playful grin. “Glad I’m not standing next to Meglar about now. He’s probably breaking everything in sight.”

“Then I’m glad you’re not near him too.” Miceral winked and returned the grin. “I don’t want him breaking you.”

“So…,” he stammered, not sure what to say. “Welcome to Haven. Let me find out where your room is and I’ll walk you there.”

Miceral looked at him for a moment, seeming to search for the right words. “You need some rest. As much as I’d like you to escort me, why don’t you find someone else so you can get some sleep?”

Farrell noted the hesitation and decided to take a chance. He stared at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come with me to my suite?”

Miceral didn’t respond, forcing Farrell to lift his eyes. From the look on his face, Miceral struggled for an answer. “I want to, Farrell. Trust me, I do, but I think it’s best for you to rest—alone. You passed out once, then worked more powerful magic. There will be time for us to be together. I’m not going anywhere.”

The big smile did little to improve Farrell’s mood. Sure, they could be together later, but that didn’t help with now. “I know you aren’t. But….”

“Come, I’ll walk you to your rooms, then go find mine. You can come get me in the morning and show me around.” Miceral took his hand and moved toward the exit.

Smirking, he nodded. “Okay, but you should let me lead. You don’t know the way.”

Hands entwined, they made their way up four levels to Farrell’s rooms. People scurried about, but they stopped to greet Farrell. Most smiled when they noticed the pair holding hands.

“You seem well liked.” Miceral turned his head to follow the last group. “Am I a trophy you’re showing off?”

“Of course.” Farrell caught himself before he giggled. Drawing himself up, he tried to look serious. “I am the prince around here. It’s about time the people of Haven saw me deliriously happy.”

A small squeeze of his hand made him smile wider, a grin he kept all the way to his rooms. They met fewer people the farther they went. Eventually, no one bothered them as they walked down a long, half-lit corridor. Farrell stopped in front of a plain stone door. Only a small gray handle set it apart from the wall around it.

“These are my quarters.” He looked up, feeling his heart pound. “Come in while we wait for someone to fetch you?”

“Of course.” Miceral pushed the door, but it didn’t budge.

“I’m afraid you need permission to open my door. It’s magically sealed.” Miceral started to remove his hand, but Farrell grabbed it in his and placed it back on the door. He wove magic through their hands, drawing a look from Miceral. “Now my door will open for you.”

Miceral pushed with a finger, and the door gently swung inward. Farrell led them into a small anteroom with three doorways. Doors to the left and right were closed, and the archway in front of them led to a dark room. With a quick wave of his hand, he raised the lights.

“My chambers are the biggest in Haven.” He realized what that sounded like and toned it down a notch. “I have my workrooms here, as well as a sitting room where I can receive visitors if needed.”

He let Miceral scan the area before pointing to his right. “My workrooms are behind that door. I can’t allow a nonwizard access given what I have stored inside.”

“Afraid I might learn your darkest secrets?” Miceral raised both eyebrows suggestively.

“No, those would be found over there.” Miceral’s gaze followed Farrell’s finger as he indicated to the left. “That door will open when you push it.”

“What’s in there?”

Feeling himself falter, he pushed down his fears. “My private rooms—bedroom, bath, and study.”

Miceral stepped over, pushing the door. “Seems to work.”

Blushing, Farrell pointed to far left corner of the vestibule. “Ahead is the sitting room. Behind that is my music room. I’m not very good compared to the musicians who play in common areas around Haven, but it calms me to play.”

Still by the door, Miceral glanced inside. “Since I have unfettered access to your inner sanctum, I will use this power to see to it you get some rest.”

He stepped back, and Farrell led the way. “Study,” he said as they passed a door to the right. A few paces forward, he stopped them by the door to the left. Pointing to a tub without a drain, he said, “Unlike most baths, I can heat and remove the water with my magic. So I made this tub large enough to allow for a really good soaking. Which, I might add, is something I should do before I go to bed. Lisle will be angry at me if I lay my stinky self onto the clean linens.”

He noted the odd look on Miceral’s face. “Lisle is the woman who sees that my chambers are clean and I don’t get too messy. Believe me, that woman has a tongue that could curl the paint off a portrait if she gets mad. I try very hard not to be on the receiving end of one of her lectures.”

“Fine, bath first, then off to bed.” Miceral ticked off the events on his fingers.

Farrell couldn’t stop a smile as he led them into the chamber at the end of the hall. As the pair entered, the lights came up, illuminating the entire room. A small table and two chairs, along with eating utensils, napkins, and some fruit, sat in the corner to the left of the door. A large, overstuffed leather chair and ottoman, with a small table and candelabra next to it, filled the corner to their right. Small globes of wizard’s light danced on top of each candlestick.

A feather bed, large enough for three men to lie side by side without touching each other, covered the entire back wall except for a small archway in the left rear corner.

“By the Six! That is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Do you have parties on it?”

“No, but I’m a lazy thing in the morning. It’s my one real vice. I like nothing better when it’s cold or rainy than to lie in bed under the covers as long as they’ll let me. Even this far under the mountain, I can feel the weather outside and burrow in and stay warm.”

He realized his words came out in a rush. Sneaking a glance at his guest, he relaxed when he found Miceral smiling.

“A bed like that looks lonely. Where’s the grand bedframe, complete with canopy and lace curtains?” Miceral struggled for an instant before a small laugh snuck out.

Unable to hold it back, Farrell yawned. All the humor drained from Miceral’s face, replaced by concern.

“You’re tired. Let’s get you that bath and put you to bed. Do you need any help?”

Farrell blushed. “Help?”

“Well… I meant, drawing the bath or turning down the sheets.” The mischievous half leer appeared again. “But since you asked….”

Farrell felt his cheeks warm even more but didn’t look away. “Someone to wash my back would be nice.”

“Wash your back?” For a moment Farrell wondered if he had offended his guest, but Miceral’s smile helped calm him. “I’m a bit overdressed for that type of work, don’t you think?”

“Well….” He almost dropped the topic but pushed himself to continue. “The tub is big enough for two, and, frankly, you really need a bath… if you don’t mind my saying.”

Miceral’s laugh filled the room. “Who knew you could manipulate me so. Is that your way of asking me to join you? Oh please, don’t get all embarrassed. I joke to cover my clumsiness. Otherwise I’d be as shy as you. In fact, I used to be that shy about a hundred years ago or so.”

Farrell’s body shook, his angst unwilling to go away. “Is that a yes?”

In the midst of a prayer asking Serita, Goddess of Love, for help, Farrell felt a large, callused hand reach for his cheek. The touch sent a new wave of shivers through his body.

“You really want me to stay?”

“Yes.” He looked up, careful not to use magic to get Miceral to agree. “More than you know.”

He spoke the last words so quietly, he didn’t know if Miceral heard him. Farrell held his breath, waiting for an answer.

Miceral’s face betrayed his indecision. Finally he met Farrell’s gaze and smiled. Reaching out, he pulled Farrell closer. “Okay, I’ll stay. But you’re right. You do stink. I’m going to have to toss you into that great big tub of yours and scrub you good if I’m to share a bed with you.”

Farrell pulled back, noting the smirk on Miceral’s face. Two could play this game. “Me? I’m not the one who smells like rotten Chamdon. You bet your last silver crown you’re going into the tub too, even if I have to throw you in myself. No way you’ll foul my bed smelling like that.”

“You? My fragile little wizard? Throw me in the tub? You and what army? We Muchari are much stronger than we look, you know.” He puffed out his chest, and Farrell laughed at his theatrics.

Shaking his head, he moved closer for a brief kiss. “Let me get the bath ready for us. I prefer my baths on the hot side if that’s okay.”

“Perfect. Best to start off hotter. They always cool too much at the end anyway.”

“Ha, not my bathwater. I keep it the way I like it until I’m done. Being a wizard has to have a few perks to go with the endless studying and training.” Just as all the sword training probably gave Miceral a body to die for, he thought.

Trying to contain his excitement, he focused on the bath. Connecting to the spells in the tub, he set the water running. When he could hear it filling, he smiled at Miceral. His insecurities urged him to retreat to the bathing chamber to undress, but he ignored them, pulling his tunic over his head. If he wanted Miceral to join him in the bath, he had to get naked. Sitting bare-chested on the bed, he removed his boots.

“Not fair,” Miceral said as Farrell moved to put his boots away. “Armor is a fair bit harder to get out of than a simple tunic and britches. You’ll be in the tub long before I finish.”

“Another benefit to having a wizard for a friend is I could just… you know.” He waved his hand in the air.

“No, thank you.” Miceral held up his hand. “There’s no telling what else you’ll remove if you get into that habit. Don’t you wizards do anything the old-fashioned way?”

“Well, I’ve gotten myself undressed so far without the aid of magic. That’s more than you can say.” He felt Miceral’s eyes on his naked torso. “At least let me help so your hair doesn’t catch on the chain mail.”

“You can do that? It seems a rather mundane use of wizardry.”

It took a moment for the words to register. Then he began to laugh. “If you knew how many mundane things we use wizardry for around here. Heating water, sanitizing water, removing sewage, preserving food, heating rooms, cooling rooms, providing light, cleaning clothing. The list is endless.”

“Hmm, well, it’s a darn sight difficult to get out of this stuff sometimes, and I really could go for a hot bath right now.” Miceral didn’t hide the smirk very well. “But just the armor. I still prefer to get my clothes off on my own.”

“That’s disappointing.” Farrell pretended to be hurt until he saw how serious Miceral looked.

“Sorry, but I see wizards with a suspect eye, knowing what they can do if they want to with their powers.”

The conversation had taken a darker tone than Farrell had intended. He put his hands together, fingers up, then drew them slowly apart and back. Miceral’s armor disappeared for a moment, only to reappear, cleaned and stacked neatly by the ottoman in the corner.

“I only meant it was disappointing you preferred to take your clothes off by yourself. What if I wanted to help you get naked by hand?” Farrell winked at Miceral, happy to note the hint of color in his cheeks. “But I know what you mean. Magic is certainly open to abuse. As the old saying goes, ‘Power corrupts.’ The greater one’s power, the greater the risk of misuse. My father is living proof of that.

“I try very hard not to do anything that would qualify as a violation of one’s personal space. No truth spells, trances, tampering with memories, and no stripping handsome men of their clothing. These are just some of the things we don’t do.

“I don’t blame you for being mistrustful. I suppose I would be too if I weren’t a wizard.” He made for the bath chamber without waiting for Miceral to respond. Once inside, he removed several large, soft light green towels from the shelves along the wall. He shucked his pants and tossed them aside.

The steam from the bath had fogged the mirror. “Drat.” He’d forgotten to add the spell to prevent this when he turned on the water. Clearing the condensation with his hand, he wished he hadn’t. “Damn,” he whispered to his reflection. “I look like I’ve been dragged through the depths of Neblor. It’s a wonder he agreed to stay.”

His mind wandered to the handsome warrior undressing in the room next door. Blood rushed to his groin as he wondered just how amazing Miceral would look without his clothes. To prevent serious embarrassment, he slipped into the tub with his back to the door. He slid down until the water reached his chin, leaned forward, and dunked his head. Tapping a square tile on the wall, he opened a hidden compartment to reveal the soap.

Helping himself to a large, white-blue hunk, Farrell began to wash to keep his thoughts off Miceral’s naked body.

“Mind moving up a bit so I can wash your back?”

Water splashed everywhere as the soap flew out of his hand. “Holy Honorus, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” Miceral picked up the soap. Completely naked, he was even more attractive than Farrell imagined. The water hid his excitement, but Miceral’s was on full display.

“Come on, move up. I need to get in,” Miceral said, looking slightly flushed. “Unless you were only kidding about me washing your back.”

“No, of course I wasn’t kidding.” Farrell moved forward. “I just got… ah… a bit distracted.”

“Naughty thoughts of me, I hope.” Miceral laughed and climbed in behind Farrell.

“Well, not exactly naughty.” Another minute or two and they would’ve been. “But they were of you.”

Miceral sat with his legs on either side of Farrell. This close, he felt the size difference more acutely. Pressed against Miceral’s sculpted, muscular body, Farrell wanted to hide his thin, pale frame.

“I recall you asked me to wash your back.” Miceral rubbed the bar of soap over Farrell’s skin. Several times he stopped, using his callused hand to work the soap into a lather. Twice Farrell felt him stop in places he knew he had a particularly visible scar. “How in Nendor did you get so many scars on your back? These are like nothing I’ve seen before.”

Embarrassed, Farrell thanked the gods he sat in front of Miceral. “Guess you’ve never washed the back of a wizard before. Those are the marks of failed attempts to shield myself.”

“With scars like these, it’s a wonder you’re alive.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to Farrell’s lips.

“No, nothing like that.” He tried to twist around without success. “Most of those are old. Novices tend to focus on what they can see when they practice shielding, meaning their front. To teach the value of full-body shields, good teachers will attack their student’s back as a first lesson. Almost every young wizard gets singed a few dozen times before they remember to make their shields strong all over.”

He relaxed, enjoying the forceful hands that worked his back. “So you can add scarred to scrawny and pale when you tell others what I look like with my clothes off.” The small laugh he added did little to make it sound like a joke.

Miceral stopped moving. “You think this means so little to me that I’ll tell everyone what we do tonight? You must not have a high opinion of me if you believe I’d disrespect us both like that.”

Farrell tried to turn again, but a pair of powerful legs trapped him. “Actually,” his voice was barely more than a whisper, “it’s how little I think of myself. I can’t understand how someone like you could find me attractive. I’m skinny, pale, scarred, and ugly. If I weren’t a wizard, I’d be a scribe or bookkeeper and entirely unremarkable.”

Miceral pulled him closer despite his attempts to get away. “No magic, and don’t pull away from me, please.” Farrell relaxed a bit, and he sank back into the heated water, wrapped in Miceral’s arms. “First, you’re not ugly. Far from it. You’re adorable and handsome. I know several young ladies who are unhappy you are interested in me. You’re also too hard on yourself, little one. Okay, that’s bad. Here you are self-conscious about your size and I keep calling you ‘little one.’ It really is a term of affection, you know, even if you feel it’s not.”

“I know, or at least I know you mean it as such. But it does remind me of how different we are.”

“And is that so bad? Should I walk away because I can’t heat water with a thought or toss energy from my hands?” Miceral ran his palms gently over Farrell’s torso. “You’re an amazing person. I find myself wondering what you see in a big oaf like me. Sure, I can lift a horse or crush a rock in my hand, but compared to you, I’m small and fragile. But I still want to be with you if you’ll have me. You’re fearless and brave, and you fight for others. Just being with you makes me feel special.”

Miceral brushed his lips across Farrell’s ear. “How about we enjoy each other as we are? It really would be easier than you always wondering if you’re good enough for me. And speaking of that, remember it was you who rode through an army of Chamdon to save me, not the other way around.”

Farrell said nothing for fear his voice would crack. Instead, he hugged the arms around him tighter. He settled back against Miceral’s chest, noting his partner’s arousal. A smile of contentment found its way onto his face while he lay there.

The effect of the water and Miceral holding him caused him to drift in and out of sleep. Vaguely, he recognized Miceral gently running his soapy hands all over. He stood when asked and dried himself and brushed his teeth out of habit. Somehow, he remembered to set out a new brush for Miceral before he left the room. Half asleep, he flopped on his bed and buried his face in a thick, soft pillow. Lying naked across the bed, he forgot about the guest he’d begged to stay with him for the night.

FARRELL
WOKE several hours later, finding himself in the arms of a sleeping man. It took him a moment to realize the bath had not been a dream and Miceral breathed softly behind him.

He smiled, enjoying the warmth of the body pressed against him. As he rolled onto his back, Miceral’s hand moved with him and ended up on his stomach. With a whisper, he dimmed the lights, leaving just enough to simulate the light that would come through a normal window. Miceral stirred, eventually opening his eyes.

“Hello,” Farrell said. “Surprised to see you stayed after I fell asleep on you like that. Sorry I didn’t warn you that sometimes I pass out after using too much magic at one time.”

“I might have gone back to my room had you not deliberately kept its location from me.” His smile told Farrell he wasn’t really annoyed. “In truth, I was afraid to disturb your sleep, but you looked so beautiful with your naked ass in the air, I just had to stay.”

Embarrassed, Farrell laughed at the description of his ass. “Having lived here alone so long, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stumbled from the bath and fallen onto the bed without bothering to dress. After the staff found me like that a few times, you’d think I’d put a spell on the door to my bedroom to make sure it wouldn’t open without my permission.”

Miceral smiled, gently running his fingers over Farrell’s chest and stomach. “I’m sure that was a show most would welcome.”

Stifling the denial he wanted to make, he shrugged. “I’m glad you stayed, despite my rude behavior. Waking in your arms like that was a dream come true. I want to curl up and fall asleep there again.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

Rather than answer with words, Farrell took the hand gently caressing him and led it down. Miceral grinned as his hand confirmed Farrell’s excitement. Tossing his insecurities aside, Farrell leaned over and passionately kissed his partner. Miceral responded without restraint.

Though no novice in bed, Farrell’s heart pounded and he shook as Miceral used strong hands to gently explore his body. Before he reached an early climax, Farrell shifted positions, moving on top of Miceral. Using his hands and lips, he took his time examining Miceral’s amazing body. Drifting lower, he used his mouth and tongue to bring Miceral to the edge, then ignored the plea to stop.

Smirking, Miceral switched positions, and Farrell let him return the favor. Before long, Farrell tensed and he found release. When his body stopped twitching, Miceral kissed his way back up until they shared the same pillow.

Breathless, Farrell snuggled closer, letting Miceral envelop him in his powerful arms. “That was so amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Miceral whispered. “I could hold you like this forever.”

He tightened his grip on Miceral’s arms. “Who’s asking you to stop?”

Miceral kissed the back of his neck in response. Fatigue soon overcame passion. Feeling safer than he could remember, Farrell let sleep reclaim him. Miceral’s warm breath and hard body filled his thoughts as he fell asleep.

Chapter 9

FARRELL
SLEPT until he heard someone shuffling about the room. Rolling over, he tried to ignore Lisle, but Miceral sat straight up.

“My, aren’t you a jumpy thing. Not at all like your friend there.” Lisle’s voice took on an acerbic tone. “I had your things moved to these rooms. A rather persistent unicorn kept insisting the temple send clerics to my room with instructions to move your bags here.” She continued to move about the room, gathering dirty clothes, unfazed by Miceral’s presence.

“Thank you,” Miceral said. “I wouldn’t have known where to find my room. We came here first, and Farrell fell asleep before he found someone to show me to my quarters.”

Farrell pushed his head farther into his pillow.

“Hmm, is that right?”

He heard Lisle leave and groaned into his pillow, knowing where she was headed next.

“When his royal messiness wakes up,” she called from the adjoining room, “remind him to drain the tub.”

“Um, sure,” Miceral answered as Farrell poked his head up.

Rolling his eyes, he mouthed the word Lisle before planting a soft kiss on Miceral’s neck. “Good morning, Lisle.” He leaned over and brushed his lips across Miceral’s cheek.

Lisle stomped back into the room. “Well, well, my messy little wizard prince has decided to grace us with his magnificent presence.” Farrell rolled onto his stomach, pulling the ends of the pillow up around his head.

Miceral snickered before rubbing his back.

“Now, none of that, lad. It’s long past time for you to be up. I can’t clean until you get your lazy, naked bottom out of bed. No offense to you, Master…?”

“Miceral.”

Farrell steeled himself for her response.

“Nice to meet you, Miceral, even if Farrell is too ill-mannered to have introduced us properly.” She paused long enough for Farrell to shake his head into the pillow. “If it isn’t too inconvenient, would you please empty that oversized tub of yours?”

Turning again, he noticed Miceral, red-faced, clearly uncomfortable with Lisle standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Lisle, my apologies for being rude and not introducing you to Miceral and for forgetting yet again to drain the tub. I’m an awful person. I don’t deserve you in the least.”

“You’re right, you don’t deserve me, but I’ll keep trying to make you presentable all the same. There’s food on the table. Hurry up and eat; then get out. Show your friend around or something. Here’s an idea. Show him his room so he isn’t stuck here with you forever.” With an exaggerated turn, she left.

He mumbled a spell, rolling his eyes. “The tub is drained, Lisle. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yes,” she called from somewhere else in the apartment. “Get up and get out!”

He snapped his hand at the door and it swung shut. “Remind me to make sure to change the spell on that door. When we’re in here, I don’t want anyone, not even Lisle, to have access.” He sighed heavily, then pushed the covers off.

“Lenore’s bright eyes, that is a sassy woman.” Despite his obvious embarrassment earlier, Miceral smiled broadly now. “Where did you find her?”

“She’s been at Haven since before I was born. When my former master died, she adopted me as her mission in life. Given how inept I am at housekeeping, I quickly became her full-time assignment. I pay her enough to cover her loss of other paying clients, and she seems content to make sure I stay in line.” Farrell climbed out of bed. He walked over to his closet, pulled out a pair of baggy linen pants, and stepped into them.

Still in bed, Miceral scanned the room.

Farrell noticed Miceral’s search and held up a finger. “Hold on. I’ll find your things.” Opening the door, he went into the main room. Back against the far wall, someone had stacked several canvas bags neatly in a row. He ignored the long, narrow bag, assuming it contained weapons. The first two he hefted felt far too heavy to contain clothing. The last two felt lighter, so he decided to take them both rather than check the contents.

One in each hand, he marched back to his room and kicked the door closed when he passed. “Hopefully, these have what you need.”

Miceral threw the covers back, causing Farrell to stare. Smiling, he met Miceral’s gaze and received a wink in return. Miceral grabbed both bags and tossed them on the bed.

“These are most of my clothes. Were there others, or is this it?” Miceral never turned around, so Farrell kept his eyes fixed on his flawless ass. Miceral rummaged through the closest pack and pulled out a tunic and pants before facing Farrell. “Were there others?”

Caught staring, Farrell blushed furiously. “Um… there were several others, but these seemed to have clothing in them.”

Farrell noticed the food Lisle had delivered. He motioned for Miceral to sit as he took the nearest chair.

“Um….” Miceral stared at the hallway leading to the vestibule. “I can check to see they’re all there later.”

In addition to Farrell’s favorite cheese, Lisle had the kitchen send up four others, along with bread and butter, a half dozen boiled eggs, water, and coffee.

“By the Six! Do you eat like this every day?” Miceral joined him at the small table.

“Well, no, this was clearly meant to be special. Despite her sharp tongue, Lisle really does look out for me. She’s been like my mother since… since I got here.”

Farrell stared at the food, his chest suddenly tight. After a few moments, Farrell realized Miceral had stopped eating. Drawing his attention from the food, he saw Miceral staring at him, peeled egg in hand.

“What’s wrong?” He put his food down and reached across the small stone table.

Farrell swallowed hard. “My mother stood beside Heminaltose, defending Yar-del the day Meglar captured the city. They died to make sure I survived and had time to bring the remains of Yar-del’s Source safely to Haven.”

He reached for an egg to cover his sadness. “It’s really not something I wish to discuss today, if that’s okay. But before you hear it from someone else, on that day I had a chance to kill Meglar and prevent all the misery he has brought to the world. Obviously, I failed. The sacking of the other three kingdoms, the loss of your home, the untold number of lives he warped and twisted to create his army of Chamdon—none of that would’ve occurred if I hadn’t failed that day.”

Staring at the food, he almost put it down. Miceral ran his thumb across the back of Farrell’s hand.

“How about we have that discussion another time? It’s clear it upsets you.” Miceral waited for Farrell to calm before continuing. “I won’t judge you, Farrell. We’ve all failed before.”

Farrell shook his head. “I doubt anyone else can say, ‘Because I failed, four kingdoms fell and tens of thousands of lives were destroyed.’”

“It was ten years ago. You were young and had not come fully into your power. Others far more powerful and experienced than you also failed that day. So the blame is hardly yours.” He bent across the small table and kissed Farrell lightly on the lips. “We’ll talk about this another day. Perhaps when we know each other better and you won’t worry I’ll leave.”

Farrell took small bites of food before he felt he could speak without his voice cracking. “Thank you.”

Miceral nodded but remained quiet. Once Farrell started eating, he realized the lunch the day before had been his last meal. He managed to devour more than half the food and reached for more when Miceral pushed back from the table, shaking his head.

“Will there be food enough for my people when you’re finished?”

Farrell shrugged, popping the last of the cheese into his mouth. “High magic is very taxing.” Full, he stood up to check on the bath chamber. Finding it clean and Lisle gone, he returned to his room and a smiling Miceral.

Part of him felt bad he hadn’t given Miceral the option of leaving. But he also didn’t want Miceral to leave—ever.

“I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t plan to trap you here. After some quiet time alone, I really did plan to take you to your room. I left you no choice but to stay with me, and that was wrong. I’ll see to it that your things are moved to your quarters, and I’ll take you there when we leave.”

Miceral’s unfocused eyes remained fixed on a blank wall. Nodding slowly, he finally met Farrell’s gaze. “Does it seem to you we’ve moved too fast, too soon? I mean, I’ve known you less than four days, and already I’m ready to move in and spend the rest of my life with you.”

Farrell sat back down, hoping to find the right words. “I’ve given great thought to that same question. In some ways I’d say, yes, we’re going too fast. Then again, Honorus and Lenore made it clear we’re meant to be together. Perhaps that’s reduced any apprehension on our parts?”

Miceral shook his head twice. “I’m not sure I agree. My desire to be with you isn’t because Lenore said so. As I said before, I feel complete. I knew when I met you that you were the one.”

Farrell’s face split into a huge grin. “Did I tell you that as soon as I met you, I said a prayer to Honorus, begging that you be the one He meant?”

Miceral laughed. “No, you didn’t mention that.”

Farrell gave him a smile and a shrug but didn’t know what else to say.

“Should we take a step back?” Miceral finally broke the silence. “Or keep going and see what happens?”

Farrell stared into Miceral’s deep blue eyes and made a decision not to shy away. “I have no idea if I’m crazy or right, but I’m certain you’re the one I want to spend my life with. Silly, foolish, impulsive, whatever, I don’t care. So I’m not sure if I answered your question, but yes, we are moving at breakneck speed, but no, I don’t care because I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Miceral smiled, putting his hand out. When Farrell placed his over Miceral’s, the warrior visibly relaxed. “That’s how I feel but was afraid to scare you off. Sometimes I can be a bit much, and you seemed a bit unsure. I didn’t want my thinking to sway your actions.”

“So….” Farrell paused, then decided to just say what he wanted. “Should I cancel your quarters?”

“That’s what prompted my question. I was going to suggest it but needed to be sure you’re comfortable charging headlong into whatever it is we’re doing. It’s the first time Lenore picked someone for me.”

Farrell squeezed Miceral’s hands, hoping it would calm his racing heart. “First time Honorus acknowledged I have a personal life.”

Laughing together, he noted the sparkle in Miceral’s eyes. There’d been attraction before, but this felt different. This made his heart lurch. Standing, he drew Miceral with him. “Well, that’s settled. Check to see if all your things are here. I’m going to wash up before we set out into the depths of Haven.”

Moving with a bounce in his step, Farrell walked to the bath chamber, and hummed as the washbasin filled.

“Don’t you mess it up in there. I just finished cleaning, you silly child,” Lisle called from another room.

Shaking his head, he smiled at her way of showing affection. If only she didn’t…. He stopped himself. She didn’t need to change at all.

He dried off, brushed his teeth, and went to tell Miceral he could have the bathing chamber. Not finding him in their room—he smiled at the idea that he already thought of it as “their” room—he moved toward the main entrance. He heard voices before he reached the doorway.

“But listen here,” he heard Lisle say. “I’ve been with Farrell for a great many years. I’ve watched with a heavy heart at all the pain he’s shouldered without one word of complaint. I was there when they died: Zenora, Heminaltose, and Sanduval. I saw all the heartache of failed relationships, the few he’s attempted. He’s had more sadness in his young life than anyone ought to have.”

Standing to the side, he couldn’t see them, but he knew they stood near the door. He felt a little guilty hiding but didn’t reveal himself.

“Don’t let his pain be an impediment. It might take a bit of work, but I can tell you, he’s worth it.”

“Lisle, I’ve known him all of a few days, and already I’m prepared to spend the rest of our considerably long lives together. I only hope he feels the same.”

“I do.” Farrell spoke louder than he meant to. They both turned, making him blush furiously. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in, but I was coming to see what happened to you.”

The awkward silence made him more embarrassed, so he reached for one of Miceral’s bags. “Let’s find a place for your things. Then I can show you around Haven.”

He grabbed the first bag he came to, and every muscle in his torso strained with the effort. “Um, how many swords do you need? This feels like a dozen or more.”

“If they packed everything, there are ten in that bag, along with a few other things. Isn’t there a better place than the bedroom?”

“Yes indeed, boy, that stuff has no place in your bedroom.” Shaking her head in mock disbelief, Lisle pointed to the floor. “Leave them right where they are.”

Farrell considered putting them in his workroom but decided against exposing Miceral to the dangers inside. Setting the bag down, he asked, “Won’t it be in your way here until we find a permanent home?”

“No, I already cleaned in here. It’ll be fine for the time being. Speaking of swords, don’t you have practice about now?”

“Drat. I’d hoped to skip that.” Farrell never felt in the mood for Master Thomas, let alone today.

“No!” Lisle and Miceral said together. Farrell turned from one to the other, trying to figure out their motives. Lisle just shook her head. He knew why she wanted him to go—he’d be out of her way—but Miceral’s insistence stymied him. Farrell had thought they’d spend the day together.

“I want to go with you,” Miceral said in response to Farrell’s questioning stare. “I didn’t know you trained with regular weapons.”

Farrell picked up a different bag and moved toward the bedroom. “My mother and Master Heminaltose insisted I learn. Magic might be a devastating weapon, but it has its drawbacks. Other wizards can sense when you use it, and it is draining, as you’ve seen.”

“True, but you can’t take down a shield with just a sword.”

Smirking, he gave Miceral a wink. “Depends on the sword and who created the shield.”

“I’ll defer to your wisdom, oh mighty wizard.” Bowing playfully, Miceral darted back just before Farrell could swat him. “So can I come with you?”

“You had to ask?” Anywhere not dangerous, Miceral could go with him. “Just don’t make fun of me, please. I’m so far below your level.”

“I might give you some pointers, but otherwise I’ll be good.” He opened the long, heavy bag and removed three swords. “Ready when you are.”

Miceral coming to practice almost made Farrell eager to go. He started changing into suitable clothing when Lisle walked into the room. Her proclivity for going anywhere, anytime without asking or knocking might be an issue now that Miceral lived here too. He’d have to speak to her about it.

“Maybe you should skip this room until I can add another to store Miceral’s things.” He looked pointedly at her, hoping she’d take a hint and leave. “I’ll speak to Erstad after class about creating more space.”

“Gracious me, boy, you’re always trying to live in a pigsty.” Clearly, the subtle approach failed. “There’s no way I’m going to let it go, so don’t think that having a guest lets you go back to being messy. Humph.”

As Lisle cleared the breakfast dishes, Farrell noticed she smiled more than usual today. Half-dressed when she returned, he started to blush.

“Child, you act like I haven’t seen you all undressed any number of times. Just do what you always do. Pretend I’m not here.” She plucked his leather jerkin from the bed and held it out. “This does not go on the bed. Ever!”

Taking the well-used vest, he acknowledged his mistake with a nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It was bad enough when it was just you, but do you really think your guest wants that smelly thing where he needs to sleep?”

“No,” he said, keeping his eyes down. “It won’t happen again.”

He quickly left and put the leather shirt by the front door. Slipping into his study, he dashed off a note for Erstad, explaining he wanted to expand his rooms—again. As he exited his study, Lisle left the bedroom and walked toward him.

“While I’m gone, would you see that someone takes this to Erstad? I doubt he’ll need me, but if he does, he knows where I am.”

“He’ll not need you, but you best hurry along or Master Thomas really will beat you for being late.” She mussed up his hair slightly.

Holding his swords, Miceral waited in the foyer. Farrell grabbed his vest and ran his hand through his still-damp hair. “He’ll need to go through Miceral if wants to beat me now.” He stuck his tongue out at her before opening the door.

“Children.” Lisle turned and headed back toward the bedroom.

Farrell pulled the door shut and nodded to the left. “This way.”

“If Master Thomas wants to give you a thrashing because you’re late, don’t look to me for help. I’m not to interfere, remember?” Miceral snickered when Farrell scowled at him. “Where’s your sword?”

Farrell pulled a three-foot sword from his right pocket. When he saw the look on Miceral’s face, he said, “Endless pocket. Wesfazial put them on most of my pants. I can carry around as much stuff as I need, and it doesn’t weigh an ounce.”

“Bet that’s useful.”

“Very.” He realized Miceral watched him more than their route. “Are you paying attention? Because if you let Master Thomas abuse me, I’m going to make you walk back to our rooms alone.”

Farrell hastened their pace, hoping to be on time. Several levels down, they entered a large open space. An older man in a worn but well-kept leather jerkin stood slashing back and forth with a plain sword. He wore his steel-gray hair pulled back in a short ponytail, banded with several small cords. Metal greaves on his forearms did nothing to hide the scars that spoke of a lifetime of swordplay.

Master Thomas stared at Miceral before bowing his head an inch.

“Master Thomas,” Farrell said, stopping an arm’s length from his teacher. “This is Miceral, son of Horgon, Chief of the Muchari. He’ll be joining us from now on, as he’s staying with me.”

As Farrell put on his jerkin, the older man gave no indication he cared about Miceral or whom he slept with. Extending his arm, he said, “Pleased to meet you, sir. Kindly stay out of our way while I work with the prince.”

Miceral nodded and unwrapped his own swords. Farrell watched him select two similar blades and swing both in a twirling motion. A firm slap on his ass from the flat of a sword elicited a short yelp.

“Stop watching your friend over there and concentrate on your own practice.” Master Thomas’s voice held nothing except the business at hand. Rubbing his “wound,” Farrell began to limber up, performing the stretching routine he’d been taught as a boy. When ready, he picked up his sword and bowed to his teacher.

After a perfunctory bow, Thomas attacked. Farrell used a lighter sword that played to his wiry build and natural quickness. After a few passes, Thomas stopped and lowered his sword.

“Your arm is too low.” Thomas moved Farrell’s sword arm approximately three inches.

Feeling foolish at the almost negligible adjustment, Farrell barely paid attention to the additional instructions.

Master Thomas moved in front of Farrell, and they resumed practice. Without warning, Thomas changed his attack, stopped, and repeated the drill of showing Farrell what he’d done wrong this time. Farrell chafed as the lesson continued. He wanted to show Miceral his skill with a sword, but his trainer consistently focused on his weaker points.

“Boy!” Thomas slammed the point of his practice sword into the ground, signaling a stop. “What in the Eight Gates of Neblor are you doing? Trying to show off for the pretty lad sitting over there?”

Farrell turned beet-red, glaring at his instructor.

Undeterred, Thomas scowled back. “We’re here to work on where you’re most vulnerable, not to do fancy moves to impress someone you hope to get in your bed tonight. Trust me. I saw what he can do. You’re not going to impress him. You aren’t that good.”

Humiliated, Farrell ground his teeth, eyes barely open. If this fool thought to insult him in front of Miceral without consequences, he—

“Master Thomas.” Miceral’s voice broke into Farrell’s thoughts. “If you wouldn’t mind, may I talk to Farrell a moment, please?”

The two locked eyes for an instant before Farrell saw his teacher nod.

Putting a hand on Farrell’s shoulder, Miceral drew them aside. “He’s correct. I am a distraction. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go back to the rooms to wait for you.”

“No.” Farrell grabbed Miceral’s arm. “It’s not you, it’s him. I’m a much better wizard than he is a swordsman, and this is his way of humiliating me.”

Shaking his head, Miceral gripped Farrell by the biceps. “That’s not true. He’s trying to teach you how to work around your weaknesses. It makes no sense to work on what you’re good at and ignore where you need help. You were in the wrong. Master Thomas is a fine teacher. If you want me to stay, you need to apologize to him.”

Farrell’s head snapped back. “Are you joking? He’s a surly, grumpy old man—”

“Who’s trying to save your life by making you a better swordsman. He was right to call you out just then. He might have been a bit mean, but he got your attention.” Miceral suddenly smiled at him. “It was sweet of you to try to show off for me. I’m impressed. You’re a much better swordsman than I thought. But if you really want to impress me, then learn what he’s trying to teach you.” He kissed Farrell’s forehead. “Go on, apologize and get on with the lesson.”

Farrell turned toward Master Thomas, then looked back over his shoulder. Miceral mouthed the words go on and flicked his fingers twice.

The older man stood apart, his focus on Farrell as he walked over.

“Master Thomas, I’m sorry I’m wasting your time today.” He maintained eye contact, waiting for some further insult from his teacher. “You were right. I was trying to impress Miceral when I should’ve paid attention to the lesson. If you’ll accept my apology, I’d like to continue.”

Thomas stared at him for a moment longer, then glanced at Miceral. The ends of his lips curled up ever so slightly. “Accepted, lad. Now shall we begin again?”

Surprised, Farrell nodded and assumed a combat position. This time he ignored Miceral and focused on his instructions. The rest of the lesson went considerably better. Though a sweaty mess at the end, he felt pleased with the results.

Stabbing his sword into the dirt, he bowed to his teacher. “Master Thomas, thank you for the second chance today.”

The older man assumed a slightly deferential posture. “Prince Farrell, all I want is to make you a better swordsman, as your grandfather asked. I know your true skills lie elsewhere. Your willingness to learn was all the apology I wanted.”

He walked over to Miceral. “Whatever you said, you did him a great service, sir. He’s lucky to have you. I’d be honored to practice with you if you’ll give an old man the privilege.”

Miceral grinned, picked up his sword, and moved to the center of the field. The two bowed before Thomas launched a furious attack. Farrell raised his eyebrows and wondered how he’d never gotten hurt training with the man. Miceral however, parried the assault easily and quickly countered.

After a time, Thomas paused. “Well met, sir, but you hold back.”

“Master Thomas.” Miceral bowed to the older man. “You’re an expert swordsman, but my race is faster and stronger. I don’t want to injure you.”

“Prince Farrell,” Thomas called, “bring your sword and the mate to the one your friend holds and come join us. Perhaps two of us will present more of a challenge than one.”

Farrell handed Miceral his other sword.

“We’ll attack him together.” Thomas gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s see how good he really is.”

A quick bow and Thomas lunged. Farrell circled around, trying to stay opposite his teacher. Spurred by the day’s events to try harder, Farrell did his best to keep up, but even he recognized his limited skills. He took consolation that his mere presence assisted Master Thomas. Still, Miceral easily met their attacks.

Farrell’s training had been longer—and more strenuous—than usual so he quickly tired. Pushing himself when he should have called a halt, he stumbled, falling into the path of Miceral’s sword. As the steel pierced his leather jerkin, he screamed in pain, clutched his shoulder, and dropped to the ground.

Chapter 10

MICERAL DROPPED his sword and rushed to Farrell’s side. “I’m so sorry. Let me see.”

“Add one more scar to an otherwise scarred body.” The small laugh made Farrell wince in pain.

The slick wetness under his vest warned him of the blood loss. Light-headed, he couldn’t focus enough to staunch the flow from the wound. At the edge of consciousness, he heard Master Thomas summon the healer always on duty.

“Come away, lad.” Thomas gently pulled Miceral back. “Let Healer Geanette tend to this.”

Farrell felt Geanette’s hands over the wound. Soothing energy created a numbing sensation in the injured shoulder. Pain receptors, so recently overloaded, returned to normal, leaving a dull ache through his body.

“The wound was deep and bled much in a short time. Had I not been here, you would have died.” She glanced at Miceral and Thomas in disapproval. “It is healed, and you’re no longer in danger. Most of the blood found its way under the leather shirt, so your undergarment will appear worse than the wound was. I cleaned off some, but you need to rest for the remainder of the day. No magic. Let me repeat that, my lord—no magic.”

Shaking her head, Geanette walked over to Thomas. “Make sure he eats and rests. Don’t let him use the shoulder for a couple of days.”

Shirtless, Farrell examined the clean gash in the left shoulder of his vest. It had absorbed some of the blow, but Miceral’s stab had cut deep. Even healed, the shoulder remained tender and would be for a few days.

“My prince, this is my fault.” In all the time he had known Master Thomas, Farrell had never heard him apologize. “I should never have put you at risk. Worse, I paid no attention—”

“Door opening,” Farrell said, interrupting Thomas.

Miceral opened his mouth, but before he spoke, a Door opened just outside the practice field.

“Word of my injury must have spread fast.”

Erstad and Wesfazial quickly stepped through the Door, followed by Glendora and, to his surprise, the wizard Cylinda. Master Thomas and Miceral moved to intercept the angry entourage. All began yelling at once, most of it directed at Master Thomas. When Miceral attempted to defend the weapons master, they turned their venom on him. Farrell heard words like irresponsible and idiotic. Then the rhetorical questions started. “Don’t you know who he is?” “Do you realize how important he is?” Finally, there came the threats. “There will be consequences for such stupidity.” “If anything happens to him, you’ll both be sorry.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Farrell’s voice went unheard amid the shouting.

“It hurts a bit, now that you ask, but I’ll be fine.” He spoke louder, but they still ignored him.

“I should be okay in the morning with some rest and food.” Frustrated by his sarcastic imaginary conversation, he spoke a couple of words of magic and whistled loudly enough that the sound reverberated off the walls.

Face contorted in pain, he clutched his injured shoulder. “Yup, should have listened to the healer. Magic equals bad right about now.” Having gained their attention, he rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

As a group, they avoided his gaze. When they came closer, he raised a hand and let Miceral help him to his feet. “First, don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I was stabbed in the shoulder, not the ears or brain. Second, why are you yelling at them? It was my lack of skill and stamina that got me hurt.”

Scanning their faces, he shook his head. “Finally, there’ll be no repercussions. None. I’m still Lord of Haven, not any of you. No one is pulling rank here except me. And I’m going to take a nap. When I wake up, everything better be just like it is now.”

The four wizards stared at him but were now calmer. With Miceral’s help, he collected his things. When he glanced up again, Erstad looked pleased, Wesfazial grumpy, Glendora still mad at Miceral, and Cylinda nowhere in sight.

Erstad almost clapped him on the shoulder, stopping himself just in time. “Lord of Haven?” He raised a bushy eyebrow.

“I… um… well….”

The elder wizard gave him a broad smile. “That was a good thing you did for Master Thomas. He’s always been fiercely loyal to you and your house. I’m proud of you for standing by him. But perhaps we ought to rethink further weapons training.”

“Or perhaps I ought to recognize I need more practice and work harder.” He glared at Erstad, daring him to say something different. “Today was actually fun. Miceral helped me see what Master Thomas has been trying to teach me but I’ve been too stupid to recognize. Now that I see things clearer, I realize I need to work harder. Miceral can help me train. He’s amazing. Think you can add a practice area to our quarters?”

“Our quarters?” Wesfazial growled. “Known each other what, four days now, and you’ve moved in together? Moving a bit fast, wouldn’t you say?”

Farrell did something he couldn’t remember doing before. He snapped at his former teacher. “No, we’re not moving too fast, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pry into my private life.”

Erstad’s eyes shot daggers at his colleague. “We can talk about that request later, but if you don’t mind the suggestion, it would be better if you continued your practice here.” He held up his hand to silence any protest. “Miceral is on a level you’re not accustomed to facing. Sort of like you and an entry-level wizard. You can learn enormously from him, but if he loses his concentration, he can easily hurt you like he did today. There is always a healer on duty here in case that happens.”

Farrell looked to Miceral before he answered. “Agreed. Um… can we use your Door to go back to our room? That little voice spell hurt almost as much as getting stabbed.”

“Of course.” Erstad nodded his agreement. “Let me change the location to your workroom.”

Farrell reached for his vest, only to have Miceral push his hand away. “I’ll get it. You just worry about yourself.”

“I’m not broken, and you’re not to blame.” Farrell almost used a spell to snatch it from Miceral but settled for glaring at him instead.

Miceral nodded but quickly turned away. Rather than press the issue, Farrell leaned over and kissed his cheek.

The area between the lines shimmered as Erstad opened a Door into Farrell’s workroom. The lights came on, and Farrell groaned before he could stop himself. Miceral nearly dropped his things, but Farrell held up a hand.

“I’m fine. The lights tried to draw energy from me, that’s all.”

The trio walked carefully, stepping around the mess. Books and scrolls lay open on workbenches, debris from various tasks lay on the floor, jars sat open, and staves lay scattered about the floor.

“We really need to work on this room. It’s a hazard to anyone who enters.” Erstad’s scowl grew as he looked around. “I’m assigning you an assistant to help with this. ‘Lord of Haven’ or not, this has to be better kept.”

“Yes, sir.” He wanted to keep it in better order, but with all the demands of running Haven, cleaning his workroom remained a low priority. As they exited his workspace, Farrell had an inspiration.

“Miceral, do you think Horgon would be willing to act as first minister of Haven?”

“You want him to be what?”

“Part of the reason my workroom is so messy is I don’t have time anymore.” He waited for Erstad to make a comment. Instead, the older man shook his head and looked down. “King Clement of Endor served that function after Sanduval was killed. Clement died at Respital, and none of the other monarchs in exile are suitable for the position.”

Erstad snorted. “That didn’t stop them from offering their services.”

“True.” Farrell pushed aside the unpleasant memories of telling each of them “No, thank you.” “But back to Horgon. If he accepts and it works out, it would free me up to do things I really need to do, instead of deciding who gets what new space or who has rights to the cheese trade.”

Miceral blinked as if being pulled from a deep thought. “Father and I aren’t exactly close, but I’ll ask him. If nothing else, I think he’ll be pleased you asked.”

Hopefully, Horgon would agree. “So, Master Erstad, did you get my note?”

“I did, and though Wesfazial is a bit too blunt sometimes, I agree with him. Aren’t you moving a bit too fast? Adding rooms to your apartment for someone you met a few days ago? That’s not like you. No offense, Miceral, you’re a fine lad and a worthy mate, but four days is not a commitment ceremony in the making.”

Erstad looked ready for an attack, but Farrell felt calmer in his own quarters. “You raise a point we discussed already. Honorus told me I’d meet Miceral. He didn’t say by name, but He meant Miceral. He told me the one I met would be the one who would end my solitude and loneliness.”

Nodding at his side, Miceral spoke before Erstad could reply. “Lenore told me the same, only with more details. She told me I would know him because Nerti would choose him to be her rider. A bit more specific than what Honorus told Farrell.”

“Well, She is the mother of us all.” Erstad laughed.

“But besides those rather obvious signs, this feels right.” Farrell wanted to grab Miceral’s hand, but Miceral still carried his things. Just the idea he could hold his hand made him smile.

Miceral nodded before heading to his bags. Farrell took back his sword as Miceral put his away. Before Miceral could protest, he slid the sword back into his endless pocket. Noting the blood on his pants, he shrugged.

“Guess I’d better bathe before going to bed.” He was moving to fill the tub when Erstad’s voice called out.

“Farrell!” Farrell turned to find his mentor scowling at him. “No magic! I’ll take care of the bath. You go change.”

Miceral picked up the damaged leather shirt, but Erstad held out his hand.

“I’ll take that. If you two are going to spar, I’m going to add a few magical protections to this after it’s repaired so we don’t have a repeat of today’s episode or worse.” He smiled and gave Farrell a nod. “Go bathe while I look over your expansion plans.”

Farrell heard the water running, and he quickly undressed. The healer had cleaned up most of the blood on his torso, but he had blood everywhere below the waist. Noting the look of pain on Miceral’s face, he made directly for the bathing chamber.

He slipped into the hot water and sank to his neck, letting the heat soothe his muscles. In the background, he could hear Miceral and Erstad talking. When the tone turned angry, he used a whiff of magic to enhance his hearing. Even that small spell sent a jolt of pain through his damaged shoulder.

“I helped raise that boy, and if there were any other option, I would move the ends of the earth to find it. So don’t you dare come here and think you can judge me and the others just because you two shared a night of passion.”

“I am one hundred and twenty-nine, so you may as well stop calling me ‘lad’ and realize I only look young. Say what you like, but most of what I said is true. You admitted as much yourself. Some of your concern is that you need him to be okay so he can face Meglar. It’s ghoulish and you know it. The sad part is, he knows it too. It’s why he doesn’t want to commit to anyone. He’s afraid he won’t survive and he’ll end up hurting someone else like he’s been hurt. But I plan to make sure he knows I’m not going anywhere. I’ll risk getting hurt if it means I get to spend my time with him now. Call me selfish, but I hope he never has to face Meglar. But I won’t tell him that, nor will I try to talk him out of it. He’s accepted his responsibility, and I’m going to support him any way I can.”

Farrell cut the spell, wishing he’d never used it. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. He knew he should push Miceral away, but he couldn’t. He’d waited for Miceral his whole life.

“Honorus.” He whispered his prayer so the others didn’t hear him. “You sent him to me; now help me find a way to win this war.”

Farrell stood and almost used magic to dispel the water from his body. Grumbling, he left a trail of water behind him as he walked over to the shelf with the towels. Once dry, he wrapped the soft cotton around his waist and went in search of Miceral and Erstad. Following their voices, he found them in the study, looking over a set of plans.

Unlike the workroom, he let Lisle kept the study neat and orderly. Books lined three sides of the space. Erstad laid a drawing on top of the large oak desk that took up most of the fourth wall.

“This is nice, Farrell.” Miceral motioned around the room. “When I get a chance to unpack, I’ll add my books to your collection.”

Erstad looked a bit miffed, but Farrell took comfort in the fact they had worked together on the plans.

“If I understood you correctly, you want to add a couple of small rooms. Putting aside the request for a place to practice, you want a closet and storage room for his weapons and armor.”

“That’s part of what I want, but my other thought is for something like the sitting room, only not so stuffy or proper.” He stared at the plans, trying to envision how to explain what he wanted. “Can’t we add something off the music room, just for us to enjoy? Or maybe add to the music room so there’s more room to just relax?”

Shaking his head, Erstad pointed to the sketch. “A master musician designed your music room to perfect the acoustics. Adding to the room or building off of it will upset that balance. Your choices are, add the room off the formal sitting area or here, in the right corner of your bedroom. It depends on how private you want it to be.”

Farrell looked at Miceral for guidance. “Not sure how much help I can be since I haven’t seen the formal room yet.”

“What have you two been doing that you couldn’t show him the few rooms of your apartment?” Erstad asked, then held up both hands. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know.”

“No worries, Master Erstad, we weren’t going to tell you,” Miceral said. “Getting back to the task at hand, of the two, my suggestion is to add it off our room, not the formal sitting area. Placing it in the common area would allow someone to wander into our space if left unattended.”

Farrell nodded. “I agree. Will that work okay?”

“It should work fine.” Erstad shrugged. “Though we may need to widen your bedroom a bit to accommodate a hall and a closet if you insist on keeping that monstrosity of a bed you have.”

Farrell waved his hand quickly over the drawing. “Oh no, don’t even think about messing with my bed. I might need to get a bigger one now that I’m sharing it.”

Erstad looked toward Miceral, who shook his head. “The bed doesn’t need changing.”

Rolling his eyes, Erstad feigned a frown. After Farrell shrugged, Erstad turned his attention back to the desk. He passed his right hand over the drawings, and the lines came to life. Soon he produced a miniature model of the apartment on top of the paper. Using a small wand he pulled from his pocket, the elder wizard pointed at and prodded his model.

When he finished the diagram, it showed the bedroom expanded by six feet to the right, and a door appeared to the right of the bed with a closet carved out behind the wall. “I think it’s best to put your storage room in the rear of the closet. Better use of space and not as visible.”

Miceral nodded, then asked, “Are there other rooms adjacent to ours?”

“Nothing even close.” Erstad laughed. “Farrell selected a remote area of Haven for his rooms. Makes it harder for folks to just ‘drop by,’ and he said he wanted room to expand if needed.”

They both cast Farrell a quizzical look.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He raised his left index finger. “First, I knew my workspace would need to be expanded. And it has been, I might point out. Then there was the issue of how many times I would need to entertain people. And yes, finally, even then I dreamed of finding someone special to share my space with. Is that so terrible?”

“No, not in the least.” Erstad gently messed up Farrell’s hair. “It’s just you already have the biggest apartment in Haven, and we’re adding to it. You can take the prince out of the castle, but you can’t take the need for a castle out of the prince.”

Farrell sneered at this, causing both men to laugh. “Ha-ha-ha, laugh away. So glad everyone finds it so easy to make a joke at my expense.”

“Mmm.” Erstad pointed at the model. “Back to the expansion of Castle Farrell.”

Miceral snickered, drawing a glare from Farrell. Erstad focused on the drawing. “Do you want the room set back off a hallway or just a door leading to the room?”

They looked at each other, shrugged, and answered at the same time.

“Hallway.”

“Just a door.”

Farrell and Miceral immediately switched positions to agree with the other.

“Children,” Erstad said with a sigh. “Fine, I’ll decide. Just a door to the room. No hallway.” He moved the wand about, and the model shifted to show a fair-sized room appear. As wide as the length of their bedroom, it stretched back to run parallel to the sitting room and music room. “That ought to satisfy you, oh Prince of the Bigger Space.”

“How long will it take to complete?” Miceral asked.

Focused on the model, Farrell didn’t acknowledge the question. He linked with Erstad and began the spell to create the new rooms. When he opened his eyes, Farrell winced in pain and grabbed his shoulder. The model sank back into the drawings, and Erstad frowned.

“Boy, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew better than to let you work magic right after being healed.” He looked at Miceral and said, “Take him inside and see that he lies down.”

Farrell’s shoulder throbbed and he felt dizzy. Miceral put an arm around his waist, and he let himself be guided back to the bedroom. Miceral gently swept him off his feet and set him down on the mattress.

“One benefit of having a Muchari for a lover. You sure are strong,” he whispered, and fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the mattress.

After a restless sleep, his throbbing shoulder woke him. A quick scan of the apartment identified the source of his pain.

He pushed back the covers, grabbed his staff, and set off to find Miceral. The lights in the wall sconces flickered for an instant as he passed, causing brief twinges of pain as he denied the attempts to draw energy from his body. Instead, he touched the sconces with his staff, fueling the lights with power from the black wood rather than himself.

Tucked in the far-left corner of the formal sitting room, a short hallway led to the music room. He found Miceral sitting on a bench next to a window pouring sunlight into the room.

“Like the view, handsome?”

Miceral jerked, nearly dropping the tankard and his sandwich. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Miceral tried to help him to a seat, but Farrell waved him off. “I’m fine.”

“You look pale, and your wound looks redder than when you went to sleep.” The concern on his face made Farrell lean over and kiss him.

“That’s because I used magic in my sleep.”

“What?”

Farrell put a finger to Miceral’s lips.

“I didn’t mean to, but it is the nature of my… our apartment. Everything requires magic. The tap in the bathroom and the lights in these rooms require energy. If no other wizard is around, they’re keyed to me. Powering the spells is what caused the pain that woke me up. Don’t worry. You couldn’t have known.”

Miceral let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I guess I need to be more careful around you. I had no idea….”

“I know.” He gave Miceral a quick kiss. “How could you have known? I’ll make sure to figure out a different system now that you’re living here.”

“Let me get you a sandwich and some juice.” Miceral didn’t wait for an answer. He returned with a tray of food and another tankard.

Farrell grabbed a sandwich, even though he didn’t feel hungry. He ate anyway, to keep up his energy to speed along the healing process.

“I’m really sorry about your shoulder.” Miceral frowned and turned away. “I was so focused on the exercise, I failed to notice how tired you were. Good thing it wasn’t serious.”

Farrell took another bite, followed by a sip of apple juice. Given how upset Miceral was, Farrell was glad his injury wasn’t serious.

“I know you blame yourself, but don’t. You couldn’t know how tired I was. Had I said something, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Why is everything your fault to you? Wasn’t there enough blame to go around for us all?” Miceral asked quietly.

“I suppose you’re right.” He didn’t want to argue about it. When he saw Miceral look out the window again, he decided to change topics.

“It’s not real, you know.” He nodded toward the window. “It’s an illusion of sorts. One day, I climbed the western slopes of these mountains and cut a window into the rock. Then I exchanged views. When you look out this window, you see what you would see as if you were standing on the mountain. Of course, if someone stood on the mountain and looked into the window, they’d see us.”

Miceral finally smiled. “Amazing.”

“I could show you where the window is on the mountain, if you like.”

“How would we get there?” Miceral looked out the window. “From the looks of things, it’s more than a thousand feet up.”

“Well, I could fly us there, but I meant I could let you see the image in my mind.”

“No!” Miceral’s body suddenly seemed tense. “Maybe when you’re better, we can fly up.”

“But it requires no magic, really. I can link my mind to….” Farrell stopped when Miceral seemed to recoil and move back. Turning away, he said, “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“Don’t be.” Miceral gently rubbed Farrell’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m just not comfortable with using magic like that on my mind.”

“I understand.” He tried to smile, but he knew it came out forced. “I do it so often, I don’t really think about it.”

He drank and ate some more as Miceral stared off in silence.

“Beautiful country,” Miceral said, breaking the stillness. “Does anyone live there?”

“There are only a few sparse hunting and trapping settlements and the odd group of brigands hiding from someone. The reach of the city-states along the western shores doesn’t extend this far inland.”

“I’ve never left the Seven Kingdoms in my life.” Miceral shook his head. “You’re a hundred years my junior, and you’ve seen the world. Sometimes I feel like a child when I talk to you.”

“I can take you to Belsport if you like.” Farrell put his hand on Miceral’s leg and rubbed softly. “It’s the largest of the city-states. I’m on fairly good terms with the court wizard. A few years ago I went there to warn them about Meglar.”

“Do they offer aid in our fight?” The ray of hope in Miceral’s eyes faded when Farrell shook his head.

“No. The princes of these small city-states have little they can offer. Not even the larger kingdoms can help. What we need is a rare commodity: grand master wizards. Whether through fate or careful planning on Meglar’s part, it appears just he and I are left on Ardus. I’m not very familiar with the great kingdoms in the northern hemisphere, but I know they are a fractured, bickering people, always at war with each other. My one attempt to reach out to them confirmed that opinion. The court wizard I met spoke of the constant state of war in the north from one end of Erd to the other.

“Dumbarten might hold some hope. Kel was born there, and their kings were always closely allied with Yar-del. But my information is that King Markus is on guard against an invasion from Meglar.”

“Dumbarten’s a huge unified island, separated by thousands of miles of ocean from Zargon,” Miceral said when Farrell took a sip. “How can Meglar threaten them?”

“It might be an ocean away from Zargon, but Dumbarten and Lourdria are separated by only a few miles of water. Don’t forget, Lourdria is bigger than all of Ardus by half, with twice as many people. The population might be scattered among dozens of smaller kingdoms, but if Meglar can get control of even a small kingdom, he could quickly overrun the continent. That is what Dumbarten is worried about.”

Farrell finished eating, shivering as he drained his cup. Miceral stood, reaching for his hand.

“Okay, time for you to get back to bed.”

“I’m fine, really.” Miceral’s strong hands gently rubbed his back. “You must feel trapped. Let me get some clean clothes, and I can show you around some.”

Pushing back, Miceral stared at him. “They said you should rest.”

Grabbing his staff, he shrugged. “I promise not to use my shoulder and to take it easy. That’s all the rest I need.”

On the way back to the bedroom, he paused by the bath chamber. “Erstad must have forgotten to empty the tub. Let me take care of it before we go.”

“What happened to being good?” Miceral shook his head, tugging lightly on Farrell’s good arm.

“Trust me. This is fine.”

“How can this be fine?” He kept his grip firm. “Powering the lights caused you enough pain to wake you up.”

Farrell smiled, motioning toward the bath. “This will be a short lesson in magic and healing. First, it’s not really the wound that’s the problem. Well, that’s not totally accurate. Healing and magic are similar. The greater the healing, the greater the energy needed. Because of that, good healers use the patient’s energy to assist the healing process.”

Farrell guided them toward the tub. “My energy is being diverted to heal my wound. Any use of magic, however slight, pulls magic from everywhere in my body, particularly the injured area because that’s where my energy is the greatest. That’s what causes the pain. It feels like a rag being pulled through the wound.”

Miceral winced when he described the pain. “Okay, so that’s why it hurts. How’s this different?”

“Healers are a wonderful bunch, but they don’t understand the finer points of how a grand master can use power.” He pointed toward himself with a smile.

“Magic lesson, part two,” he continued. “Spells and magic require power as well as skill. Most lesser wizards use power from inside themselves. Higher-level wizards can draw energy from their surroundings, but usually there isn’t enough energy to power even the smallest spells. That’s why wizards collect and store power, and the best place to store it is in oneself. Less chance of being stolen, and it’s easier to access there.” Holding his staff out, he made the water disappear. Miceral relaxed when Farrell smiled at him. “Most wizards of any class can only work magic if power flows through their body. Mainly because that’s how they were taught. However, a talented wizard can tap power stored in something else”—he pointed to his staff with his free hand—“and use it to power spells just as effectively as if it came from inside. Using power stored in this staff doesn’t pull it from me, and thus it doesn’t hurt.”

Miceral kept his eyes on the tub. Using the distraction, Farrell leaned in for a quick kiss. “Come on. Let me get dressed, and we can go.”

Gathering his clothes, he gingerly got dressed under Miceral’s watchful eye, determined not to show any sign of pain. He returned to the closet and exchanged his wooden staff for his black one with the platinum caps.

“This one has more energy,” Farrell explained, reaching for Miceral’s hand. The questioning look from Miceral drew a sigh from Farrell. “My shoulder won’t break from holding hands as long as you don’t use your brute strength to yank it off.”

Miceral gave him the first real smile since they got home. “Silly imp.”

“Met an imp once. I can say I’m nothing like him. Had to kill him. Imps only look cute and cuddly. They’re cruel and mean. Just horrible creatures.” It took Farrell a moment to realize he had ruined Miceral’s playful mood. “Sorry, that was uplifting, wasn’t it? I promise to be good, so long as you hold my hand.”

“Then, my prince”—he bowed theatrically—“I shall not let go.”

For the next several hours, Farrell showed Miceral around, taking him up and down to various markets and to the main entrance.

“This place is vast, much larger than Northhelm,” Miceral noted as they entered a long, empty corridor.

“Each kingdom has its own designated area, complete with its own temples, marketplaces, and royal residences.”

“How far does it stretch?”

“Miles.” He motioned with his staff for Miceral to turn left. “It takes a lot of space to hold the survivors of five kingdoms, counting your people.”

“Did anyone from Zargon flee when Meglar took over?”

“No. There was no reason for them to flee at first. Even after Meglar killed his father, he ruled much like his sire.” That “sire” being the grandfather Farrell had never met.

“What about when he experimented on his people to create Chamdon?” If Miceral noticed Farrell’s reflective moment, he didn’t show it.

“At first he only used criminals, slaves, or captured enemies. No one objected too much with Zargon militarily and economically on the rise. By the time Meglar’s true madness revealed itself, it was too late. Any who voiced opposition or even concern disappeared, along with their entire family and household.”

Miceral nodded. “I imagine the disappearance of a few powerful noble families would be enough to cow the remaining citizens into silence.”

“Exactly.” Farrell squeezed Miceral’s hand. “Now the only unchanged people left are his cadre of faithful retainers. Those, and the women he keeps as breeders.”

“Breeders?”

Swallowing, he nodded. “Meglar rarely turns women of childbearing age into Chamdon. Instead, they become slaves and are sent to breeding pens. He encourages his men to rape any woman not with child. The only purpose for these women is to bear children who can then become Chamdon.”

Miceral jerked to a halt. “That’s barbaric!”

Farrell stifled a grimace at the abrupt stop. “Indeed. It’s why we rarely turn and fight when we can avoid it. The fewer people he captures alive, the better.”

Silently, they passed through little-used areas. Farrell used the silence to push aside thoughts of his father’s madness.

“Are we headed for the stables?” Miceral’s voice echoed in the long, unbroken corridor.

“No, those were off the last corridor we passed. We’re going to see Nerti and Klissmor. Lenore’s clerics tended them, but we should’ve checked on them sooner.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand, given your condition.”

“Perhaps, but I would like to visit nevertheless.” The tunnel began to slope up and ended in front of a large, plain stone door. Farrell tapped his staff on the stone, and cool evening air greeted them as the door swung open.

Farrell reached out to let Nerti know they had arrived, but she didn’t answer. “Odd. She knew we were coming.”

Before Miceral could answer, Nerti and Klissmor cleared an outcrop of rocks and trotted toward them. Klissmor, an angry glint in his eyes, never turned his gaze from Miceral. The unicorn pressed forward until he had backed his rider against the wall.

Watching Klissmor’s behavior, Farrell failed to notice that Nerti stood inches away from him. She stared at his shoulder but didn’t say a word, not even a greeting. Suddenly, she lunged forward and impaled him in his injured shoulder.

Chapter 11

MICERAL
CRIED out, but Farrell barely heard it. Stunned, he stared wide-eyed at the horn embedded in his body.

Nerti moved back, removing her horn. Farrell found no blood, no wound, not even a hole in his shirt. And no pain. Before he could speak, Nerti stepped closer to Klissmor, keeping Miceral cornered.

From the look on his face, Miceral appeared to be on the receiving end of a lecture from one or both of the unicorns. When Farrell moved toward the trio, Nerti turned her head quickly.

“Do not interfere!” The force of her voice caused him to flinch.

Miceral’s chin sagged, almost touching his chest. “I agree. I promise to be more careful.”

With that, the two backed away. Nerti narrowed her piercing green eyes on him. “How does it feel now, Wizard?” A wink accompanied the last word.

He rotated his arm, testing the range of motion. “Better, Unicorn. You could have warned me.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Had you flinched, I could have missed the spot I needed.”

“I’m to blame, not Miceral.” He included Klissmor in his thoughts. “I should have stopped when I got tired. Instead, like a fool, I tried to prove my worth.”

“Defending your mate is admirable, but Miceral knew better.” Nerti locked eyes with him. “You are too important to Lenore and Honorus for him to have put you so at risk. He should have verified your skills before he put them to the test. He failed to act wisely. We told him to do better in the future. There is nothing left to discuss.”

Farrell recognized the tone and knew better than to challenge her. “Can we go for a ride?”

“I would welcome a run, but there are no good paths for miles.” She looked to the west. “There are too many trees on this side of the mountains.”

“I thought I’d open a Door to Gharaha.” He thought Nerti smiled at him—or what passed for a unicorn smile.

Klissmor moved closer to Miceral. “We waste time standing here.”

In the waning light of the summer sun, the four emerged onto the grassy plains. Without warning, the unicorns took off as only their kind could. Back home, with the wind rushing through his hair, Farrell laughed. He leaned forward, urging Nerti to run faster. Peering back, he saw Klissmor galloping with a determined glint in his eye. Miceral mimicked Farrell’s position, and his blond hair shimmered when it caught a shaft of moonlight from the newly risen moon.

For all his effort, Klissmor never caught Nerti. They reached the northern edge and had careened back when a powerful flare lit the dark sky from a spot above the gates. Farrell recognized the aura instantly. What did Wesfazial want?

“We’re being summoned back,” he told Nerti, not trying to hide his disappointment.

Nerti raced Klissmor to the front gate, and the pair arrived side by side. Farrell and Miceral quickly dismounted, and Farrell moved to one of the permanent Doors on this side. Careful to avoid the horn, he put his head to Nerti’s forehead and kissed her between the eyes, a thanks for the ride.

Smiling broadly, he waved to close the Door and took Miceral’s hand. Before they reached the gate, his smile drained.

“Honorus’s butt cheeks!” His curse earned him a stifled laugh from Miceral. “That man is always scowling at me. What is it now?”

When they arrived, Wesfazial, his face pinched and tight, “greeted” them.

“What in the Eight Gates of Neblor do you think you were doing?” He barely contained his anger. “You’re supposed to be resting, not off romping around at night on a unicorn’s back. And what demon possessed you to open Doors? You’re not supposed to be using magic. At all!” He paused for a breath, then turned his glare on Miceral. “And you. Not content to wound him, now you’re trying to kill him by not letting him rest?”

Farrell put fingers to lips and whistled loudly. When his mentor stared at him, he shook his head slowly. “Sometimes it’s better to ask questions before launching into a lecture.”

Wesfazial’s eyes narrowed, but he kept silent.

“Nerti healed me with her horn.” Raising both eyebrows, he waited a moment before adding, “I assume that’s all you wanted.”

“Um, no, there’s nothing else.” The older wizard shook his head as Farrell led Miceral inside. “Sorry, but I was apoplectic when I saw you four galloping about like that. Forgot about those unicorn horns.”

Laughing at the contrition, Farrell turned abruptly and put his hand on Wesfazial’s shoulder. “Sooner or later you’ll have to let go and realize I’m not the juvenile you met when you arrived.”

“It will take a long time for me to forget those days. I’m glad you’re all right, but be careful around this big oaf. He only looks slow.” Wesfazial gripped Miceral’s shoulder in his meaty hand before walking away.

Farrell took a small detour by the kitchen. The old woman on duty eyed Miceral a few times before she disappeared to get their food. Despite being healed, Farrell still felt drained. He barely kept his eyes open while they ate, and Miceral sent him to bed as soon as they reached their rooms.

He woke briefly when Miceral crawled in bed next to him. A strong arm enveloping him sent him back into a peaceful sleep.

“KEEP
YOUR guard up!” Miceral stepped back, signaling a pause in their training. “How many more welts must I give you before you remember to focus on both defending and attacking?”

“You’re trying….” Farrell stopped when he saw Miceral’s smirk.

“Of course not.” He threw Farrell a towel. “But it’s almost impossible to stop a blow when you fail to protect properly.”

“I really am trying.” They’d only been training together two months, but he thought he’d made good progress.

“You’re doing amazingly well.” Miceral nodded encouragingly. “But there’s always room to improve.”

Farrell finished wiping the sweat from his face. “Room? There’s a whole mountain of improvement for me to make.”

Three sharp raps filled the air, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere.

“Front door.” He flipped the towel over his shoulder and moved to the exit.

“What’s that?” Miceral asked, soundly slightly annoyed.

“Sorry, it’s the front door.” Farrell held up his hand before Miceral could answer. Waving his fingers in front of his mouth, he said, “Be there in a moment.”

Another flick of his hand, and he smiled. “The door has a spell to let us know someone’s knocking. Otherwise people might knock for a while before we heard them.”

“Oh.” Miceral seemed happy with the answer. “Who is it?”

“No idea.” Laughing, Farrell stepped off to meet their guest.

He wiped his face again as he opened the door. Erstad backed up when it opened.

“Erstad,” he said cheerfully. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We weren’t expecting you.”

The older wizard eyed him carefully, the beginning of a smirk on his lips. Feeling his face get red, Farrell rolled his eyes. “No, you didn’t interrupt us doing that.”

Snorting, Erstad stepped inside when Farrell moved back. “So what are you doing that you’re half-naked and sweating?”

The way Erstad asked only made him blush deeper. Turning, he motioned for his mentor to follow.

“Great Honorus, Farrell!” Erstad put a hand on Farrell’s shoulder, causing him to stop. “What happened to you?”

Farrell turned, unsure what his mentor meant. They locked eyes, and Erstad motioned to Farrell’s back.

“Where did you get all those welts?”

“Oh, that.” Relieved, he waved his hand absently. “Miceral and I are practicing. Evidently I’m not keeping my guard up enough.

“Farrell!” He stopped again. “I thought we agreed weapons practice would occur at the training field. And by the Six! Where’s the leather vest I magically enhanced?”

Farrell tried but couldn’t keep from laughing. “Erstad, do you really think we’re holding weapons practice in our rooms? Without protective gear?” Shaking his head, he waved for his teacher to follow. “Miceral has been teaching me hand-to-hand fighting for a few weeks now. You can watch the end of our session. We don’t have much left.”

Miceral sat on his haunches, waiting. “Good morning, Master Erstad. A fine day to be up and about.”

“Before you two return to beating each other,” Erstad said, “it seems to an old fool like me that this isn’t a fair fight. Miceral is certainly much stronger than you, and even blocking him has got to be impossible for someone who isn’t a Muchari.”

“That’s true, and the first time we sparred, I got tossed against the wall. After that, I’ve enhanced my strength to match his. Can’t do much about how quick he is, but that’s easier for him to control than his strength. This way, if I execute the moves properly, I can withstand his blows.” Farrell’s lips curled into a grimace. “When I don’t, I end up with a bruise.”

He engaged his spell, feeling the magic hug him like a second skin. He faced Miceral and bowed slightly. Flexing his knees and twisting to the side, he raised his arms. Miceral assumed a similar position, leaning forward on his toes.

When Miceral launched himself, Erstad gasped. Ignoring the sound, Farrell parried the attack and countered. Miceral easily swatted aside the blow and circled his partner, looking for an opening.

Focused on both keeping his guard up and attacking, he never got close to scoring a hit. Twice Miceral snuck past his defenses. A big improvement, but still not good enough. After the second time, Miceral stopped and showed him how to angle his arm. After he demonstrated the proper form, they resumed training.

One particular move proved elusive. After the third time he failed to stop Miceral’s attack, Farrell found himself on the mat. Frustrated, he popped up, trying to find the right position.

“That’s enough for today,” Miceral said, stepping back.

“But I haven’t figured out that last move, Ral. One more time.” Farrell stared at the position of his feet without looking up.

“Sorry, but we agreed I get to call an end to the session if I think you’re too tired.” Miceral held out a clean towel. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Less than happy, Farrell tried to conceal his disappointment. “I suppose we ought not to act as if Master Erstad isn’t here, either. He surely didn’t come to watch our morning workout.” His hint for Erstad to state his purpose failed when the old wizard said nothing. Instead, he stood up, shaking his head but smiling.

After Farrell dried off, Erstad came closer, thankfully without the scowl. “I’m impressed, lad. You’re quite good. I was prepared to be angry with you both, but I can’t. Though I’d be happier if you could train without getting thumped so much.”

Ignoring the last part, Farrell leaned in to kiss Miceral’s cheek. “I have an excellent teacher, despite the bruises.”

Erstad chuckled. “Judging by the number of welts, you’ve gotten thumped more than a few times.”

Farrell nodded as he got himself some water.

“Actually, I’m quite proud of him,” Miceral said. “I’ve been doing this about a hundred years longer than him. We only started practicing two months ago. He’s doing great.”

Farrell thought he’d been doing well, but hearing it from Miceral in front of his old teacher sent goose bumps down his arms. Clutching the water jug, he found two cups and offered one to Erstad.

“Do you have any coffee?” Erstad asked.

“Let me see. I think there’s some left from breakfast.”

The coffee left in the pot felt tepid, bordering on cold. Farrell found a clean mug, filled it, and waved his hand over the top as he returned to his guest.

“There was enough left for a cup, but I had to heat it for you.” Handing it to his mentor, he received a grateful smile for his efforts.

Still sweating profusely, he sat back on his heels, wiping his face and drinking water. He watched Erstad take a sip and smile.

“Boy, I hate you for turning me on to this vice. Where on earth did you develop a taste for this? I know Haven lacks a good grade of bean, so it couldn’t be from drinking the swill we get here.”

“A few years ago, I made my way to Belsport. Prince Wilhelm’s wizard—Darius—and I became friendly. He took me to this little shop with amazing coffee. Ever since, I’ve done my best to keep a good supply. Lisle makes sure to squirrel away my stock and use it sparingly.”

“So”—Erstad arched his brows, keeping both hands around the steaming mug—“what prompted this morning ritual of beating Farrell?”

“Miceral and I were discussing magic and why it made me so tired.” He couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at his lover. “He asked whether better conditioning might assist my wizardry.”

Miceral reached out and squeezed Farrell’s hand. “I figured better conditioning would give him more stamina for working magic.”

“So to improve his physical condition, you suggested he let you beat him on a daily basis?” Erstad’s light tone let Farrell know he was only half-serious. “Why not tie him to Nerti and make him run after her as she gallops around Gharaha?”

Farrell snorted water through his nose.

“Actually,” Miceral said when he’d stopped laughing, “this is very good conditioning, and it also serves to hone his self-defense skills.”

“Or at least his self-preservation skills, judging by the welts.”

“Hey!” Farrell gave them a mock scowl. “I’m still in the room, you know.”

“Yes, I can see that from the red glow of your body.” Erstad’s shield went up just before Farrell considered tossing a ball of water at him.

“So, what prompted your unexpected visit?” Hopefully, that would end the talk of his bruises.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately. I figured I’d come early and we could talk on the way to the Elder Circle.” Erstad gave him a sharp look, and Farrell stood to hide his frown that the mere mention of the session brought to his face. “You are planning to attend?”

“Of course. We began our training earlier today so I could make the meeting. Just because I’m in love doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my responsibilities. Horgon and I went over the agenda last night.”

“Wesfazial and I are still amazed at how well you and Horgon work together.” Erstad arched a bushy eyebrow at Farrell. “Especially after how you treated him when you first met.”

“Hey!” Miceral pointed a finger at the elder wizard. “My father didn’t exactly welcome Farrell with open arms.”

Erstad nodded once. “That’s true, but dropping Northhelm’s leader onto the dirt within minutes of meeting him wasn’t an exercise in restraint.”

“Once we put that behind us, we found we liked each other.” Farrell shrugged. “I guess we both realized neither of us were a spawn of Neblor. And I needed someone to run Haven besides me. None of the other displaced rulers have the ability, so I figured I’d try the new guy.”

“He’s being modest.” Miceral wrapped an arm around Farrell and gave him a brief hug. “Father told me Farrell’s offer upended his feelings toward us. Rather than use his authority to humble my father, Farrell reached out to try to make amends. He didn’t expect that, not after how they met. Once they started working together, Father found he couldn’t help but like Farrell. That of course changed his attitude toward me, and now we’re all getting along.”

“I thought Lenore did something to him, but Nerti and Glendora both told me She hadn’t intervened.” Farrell wiped his face with the towel again. “Whatever the reason, he’s been great. With him handling the day-to-day running of Haven, I’ve had time to get back to what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Like clean your workroom?” Erstad stared down his nose at his onetime student.

Farrell shook his head. “I even organized my workroom. Feel free to look while I go get clean.”

Farrell headed to the bath chamber, not waiting for an answer.

“Don’t take the rest of the morning primping,” Erstad called after him. “We’re all friends.”

Muttering, Farrell filled the tub and stripped off his sweaty clothing. Much as he hated the comments, he knew he’d earned a few big red marks today. And he couldn’t soak them away either. A sigh escaped his lips as he stepped into the tub.

Mindful Erstad waited for him, he washed and dried quickly and then cleaned his teeth. Once he returned to his room, he magically summoned suitable clothes.

Despite Erstad’s words, he needed to dress like a prince for the session. Miceral returned with Erstad’s cup as Farrell pulled his boots on.

“That was quick.” Miceral bent over to kiss him. Farrell let go of the boot and grabbed Miceral’s head for a slightly longer lip-lock. “Minty.”

“I aim to keep you happy.” He gave a quick wink and yanked the stubborn boot onto his left foot. “How do I look?”

“Like the most handsome prince in all the world.”

Miceral swept him into a hug, leading to a kiss that threatened Farrell’s resolve. “Ral, you have to stop or I won’t go to the meeting.”

Rolling his eyes, Miceral let him go. “Like you really want to go.”

“Of course not, but Erstad’s waiting for me. I have to.” He stole a last kiss, grabbed Miceral’s hand, and headed toward their guest and three hours of pinching himself awake.

FARRELL
TRULY hated Petitioners’ Day. With the threat of Meglar looming every day, trying to pay attention to whatever minor dispute someone brought to him—and they were all trifling—proved difficult. Left to his own devices, he’d rather focus on how to defeat Meglar, finding time to ride with Nerti, and of course more time alone with Miceral.

At the edge of his thoughts, he realized the petitioner had stopped speaking. All eyes focused on him, waiting for a decision. Honorus’s balls! He’d done it again. Fortunately, his first minister knew how to handle this.

“Gentlemen.” Horgon stood up. “Yours is an interesting and unique issue. Prince Farrell and I shall confer and return shortly with a decision.”

In other words, Farrell needs a break from your mindless drivel. Relieved, he joined Horgon, stepping away from the dais.

Horgon placed a hand on his shoulder when they reached the small room behind the chamber. “Normally I’d chide you on the importance of paying attention, but this was particularly painful.”

“Do I need to know the particulars, or can you just tell me what I think?” Farrell shrugged, aware he had taken the lazy path.

Horgon laughed. “Both. The facts are simple; the recitation was painful. Barbik, that’s the petitioner, paid for a space to sell cloth in the Respital Market Square. Part of his agreement stated that no one else be allowed to sell cloth within twenty yards of his stall. Another merchant bribed the manager of the square to let him set up closer to Barbik, hoping to poach customers when he got too busy.”

“So Barbik wants part of his fee back to compensate for the breach.” Farrell didn’t see that as unreasonable.

“Yes, but—” Horgon held up his hand before Farrell could head back. “Hansor, the manager, has done this before. Most times, people don’t complain because it’s too much time away from work to file the petition and come argue the claim. I suggest you refund the entire fee Barbik paid for the last three seasons. That’ll send a message to Hansor that, if he keeps it up, it will pay for others to levy a claim.”

Nodding first, he grinned at his minister. “You’re a tyrant. Where can I get lessons?”

“Never you mind.” Horgon rubbed the top of Farrell’s head. “Let me be the bad guy. Follow my lead, but remember the real punishment is three seasons.”

“THAT
WAS brilliant.” Farrell smirked as he led his advisors from the room.

“Sounds almost like you enjoyed yourself.” Erstad appeared, followed by Wesfazial.

“Don’t get carried away.” Farrell laughed. “I prefer to say I made the best of a bad situation.”

“Figures that’s how you spin this, boy,” Wesfazial grumbled.

“Changing subjects.” They only had a short break, and he didn’t want to spend it being the butt of their jokes. “What word from Cylinda?”

Erstad’s smile vanished, replaced with a grave expression. “She’s been busy moving through occupied lands. Meglar’s assault on Northhelm resulted in the destruction of his entire force. You timed your departure well. Meglar’s attack arrived just moments after your shield went down.”

He shrugged. “That was the idea.”

“Planned or not, the stones exploded, creating a deadly wave of energy that killed everyone in the valley.” Wesfazial appeared pleased with the information.

Erstad’s head bobbed up and down. “Word is Meglar went into a rage. Seems he really wanted to capture as many Muchari as he could.”

Farrell led them to a small, empty dining area not far from the council chamber. The staff had already set out trays of food, so he sealed the room against outside ears and faced Horgon.

“You need to speak to your people about the danger of being taken alive. Meglar very much wants to capture a Muchari for his experiments.”

His hand over a sandwich, Horgon paused. “Why?”

“We believe,” Wesfazial spoke first, “that turning a Muchari into a Chamdon would create both a stronger soldier and one with a greater life span. It’s the latter he’s particularly interested in fixing. Imagine if he could reuse his army instead of having to make a new one for every battle.”

“Would certainly give us less time to recover.” Farrell pushed his plate away.

Across the table, Erstad scowled. He flicked his finger and the plate slid back. “Eat your lunch, and no back talk.”

What good was being a prince if everyone told him what to do? Rather than voice that thought, Farrell did as instructed, sneering at his mentor with the first few bites.

The others laughed, and the mood lightened. They teased him some as they spoke, but he preferred that to speaking about Meglar and his forces. When they’d finished, he unsealed the room to allow the staff to clean up.

“A moment, Farrell,” Horgon called to him when he made to leave. “The afternoon session is light and the cases uninteresting. I’m sure you’d rather meet Miceral for weapons practice than sit here.”

Try as he might, Farrell couldn’t suppress a smile.

Horgon laughed. “That’s answer enough. Go.”

“Thank you.”

“One more thing,” Horgon said before Farrell could turn. “Do you mind if I join you for dinner tonight?”

“Dinner?” Horgon never asked to join them.

“Yes, you know, that time when you eat toward the end of the day?” The laugh covered Horgon’s obvious discomfort.

What a fool he’d been. Who else did Horgon have if Miceral and he ignored him all the time? “Of course. I’d like that. My apologies for not asking you sooner. Making you ask is incredibly rude of me.”

“No worries.” The smile did little to make Farrell feel better. “I wanted to give you two time alone, but I figured I’ve waited a polite amount now. Is seventh hour too early?”

“Perfect. I’ll let Miceral know.”

Chapter 12

HOPING TO spar with Miceral before he met Nerti, Farrell fetched his sword. Breathing deep to curb his excitement, he turned the corner into the practice room.

Miceral and Thomas stood side by side, watching trainees hack at one another. Before he could call out, they stopped the exercise and began a terse evaluation of the students. Unobserved, he quickly stripped off his court clothing, donned his practice gear, and walked onto the training ground.

Miceral gave him a silly grin when their eyes met. He exchanged a look with Master Thomas, earning a nod in return. Miceral appeared pleased but didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out for Farrell’s hand and walked him back to the changing area.

“Hello, my handsome prince.” He kissed Farrell lightly. “How went the weekly complaint session?”

Shaking his head, Farrell couldn’t hold back a small laugh. “You attend two times and you somehow wiggle your way out. But to answer your question, it went better than expected, as witnessed by my presence. Your father is quite accomplished at these meetings, and I think people are afraid of him in ways they never were of me. Perhaps you Muchari are simply scarier than we wizards.”

Miceral laughed. “Or perhaps Father has less tolerance for foolishness, and they fear his temper more than yours.”

“Either way, you may be finding out soon.”

Miceral’s face took on a quizzical look.

Trying not to gloat, Farrell added, “Horgon suggested that you ought to learn how to take his place.”

“Perhaps, but that’s a discussion for another day.” A mischievous smirk crossed his face. “Any chance you can summon that black staff of yours—the one with the metal caps on the end?”

Casting his partner a confused look, Farrell nodded slowly. Curious request. What did Miceral want with it? “I could, but I see little need for it right now.”

Miceral walked toward the armory. “Humor me, please?”

Seeing no one near, Farrell shrugged and intoned the spell. His staff appeared in his hands with a soft pop. Waiting, he twirled the black wood idly, switching from hand to hand.

Miceral returned with a warrior who didn’t appear much older but had eyes that betrayed his true age. He carried a staff similar to Farrell’s.

“Farrell”—Miceral gestured toward the newcomer—“this is Master Baylec. Once he trained me. Now he’s assigned full-time to work with Master Thomas.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Prince Farrell.”

Farrell clasped the offered right arm. “Call me Farrell, please. Master Thomas taught me the folly of pulling rank on his practice field.”

“From the way this one gushes about you, I had no idea what to expect.” Baylec slapped Miceral on the shoulder. “But I’m glad to see you have a good attitude toward weapons practice. A sword respects no rank. The person best qualified to train is entitled to the highest respect on the grounds.”

Farrell managed a nod of agreement before Miceral spoke. “Baylec is a master in the art of fighting with a staff. A skill I never mastered very well.”

“Nor ever really tried, lad, don’t leave that part out.” A wry grin from his one-time student set Baylec laughing.

“Master Baylec has agreed to train you in staff fighting. He, Thomas, and I discussed the fact that you’re more likely to fight with your staff than a sword.”

Oh.

His face must have registered complete disappointment, as Baylec laughed almost immediately. “I can see your friend likes the idea as much as you did.”

Baylec walked over, put a hand on Farrell’s shoulder, and slowly guided him off to an empty space on the field. “Don’t get that way, lad. I hear from Master Thomas that you’re a fine swordsman but your skill will only be tested on these grounds. Never made much sense to me to teach a wizard to use a sword when they always carried staffs.”

Farrell smiled. Put like that, staff training didn’t sound like such a bad idea. “I’ve been saying that for years. Nice to know someone sees the logic in not wearing me out with sword training.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.” Baylec’s snicker deflated Farrell’s good mood. “I promise you, this training will be every bit as hard as any Master Thomas put you through. From my discussions with Miceral, it sounds like it would be best to build on some of your private training. Soon enough that staff of yours is going to be more feared than any sword.”

Learning to fight with his staff meant one fewer thing to carry. “How flexible are you in your training?”

Baylec squinted. “What do you mean?”

“If what you say is true, I want to be able to incorporate combat magic into your lessons.”

For an instant, Baylec’s eyes focused on the ground. Blinking, he shook his head. “Not sure if we can or can’t, but we can certainly discuss it as we progress.”

Smiling, Farrell held out his hand. “With that agreement, I accept your offer to train me.”

The two clasped forearms, smiling like children. “Miceral says you’re familiar with your staff. Show me how you move it.”

Self-conscious at being put on the spot to perform, Farrell screwed up his resolve and twirled the staff in his right hand. Next he switched hands, then delivered an overhead chop with both.

Baylec stood silent and motionless. Farrell’s face verged on a frown. Had he done something wrong?

“Not bad,” Baylec finally said, nodding his approval. “Certainly lets me skip to more than a few basic exercises. Some of your moves are visually pleasing but useless in combat, unless they serve some magical purpose.”

“Some of the two-handed twirling is useful if I want to spray balls of energy against an opponent, but for the most part what I did was what I do with my staff when I’m bored.” He shrugged, trying not to sound too stupid.

“Interesting.” Baylec nodded, his eyes focused on the wall behind Farrell. “Is that an example of what you mean by incorporating magic into our training?”

“One of them, yes.” The others could wait until after they’d had a few lessons.

“We’ll see what we can do.” He turned, walked off, and came back with two practice staves. “I know you like your own, but I’d like to start with these. Once we’ve covered the basics, you can use yours.”

Without waiting for agreement, Baylec began instructing, pointing out differences between moves designed for combat and those for show. They hadn’t progressed beyond the basics when Farrell’s reminder spell alerted him with a shrill ringing.

He bowed to his new weapons master. “My apologies, Master Baylec, but I need to end our session. Nerti is waiting. I promised her unfettered access to Gharaha if she’d help me with a spell I’m working on. This was the hour we set.”

Baylec gave him a throaty laugh. “I do so enjoy my uncomplicated life. Not to pressure you, but you’re already good with a staff. Though it’s not flashy, I think you can see the advantages of continuing this training for someone with your talents. Just think about it.”

Baylec bowed and moved off to work with other trainees. Farrell took a moment to say good-bye to Miceral before he opened a Door and left.

He didn’t bother changing, though he probably should have. Instead he went straight to the prearranged meeting place. Nerti waited for him, giving him a wink when he arrived. He redirected the Door, and they exited almost at the eastern edge of the plains. Nerti wanted to run first, so Farrell used the time to fill her in on his new training.

“Baylec is an accomplished weapons master who has trained countless warriors. You’d be wise to give serious thought to his advice on what weapon best suits you.”

Nerti’s smooth gait belied her speed. Farrell’s hair whipping about his face told him they moved faster than it seemed. “I don’t need to think about it. I already know it’s the right thing to do. Other than not training with Miceral, I’m really excited by the change.”

He leaned forward and Nerti stretched out her stride, running even faster. Through their link, he had the impression she enjoyed the run. When they reached the designated spot, he regretted not riding with her more often.

Unfastening his staff from his back, he tapped into the closest Source for energy. Still seated on Nerti’s back, he wove the metal end of his staff over the ground, imprinting the magic where he needed it. Slow and deliberate, the work required his total concentration. Nerti’s presence helped focus him, allowing him to work quicker than usual.

When he had finished, he was about to suggest they take one last run when Nerti interrupted his thoughts. “Miceral asks when you will be back. Horgon told him of your dinner plans.”

“The Six forgive me! I forgot to tell Ral about dinner. Does he sound mad?”

Nerti’s presence in his mind disappeared for a moment. “He said he is pleased you told his father to come but wants to know when to expect you.”

“We’re done here. I accomplished my goal for today and more. If you’d let him know how soon you think we’ll be back to the gate, tell Ral I need about half an hour more to get ready.” His thoughts raced in several directions. “Oh, and ask him if he can request food for three from the kitchen as well. Please?”

Nerti ran toward the gate, her white coat a vivid contrast to the plains in the rapidly waning light. Farrell used the time to practice what Baylec had taught him, trying to see how well he could move the staff while riding.

He opened a small Door to the western side of Haven just before they reached the mountainside. They arrived near the unicorn quarters, where Klissmor waited patiently for his mate. Farrell hopped down, kissed Nerti below her horn—something he had learned she liked—and redirected the Door to his rooms.

Exiting inside the foyer, he waved his hand absently to close the portal. “I’m home.”

He went straight to the bath chamber. The full tub reminded him he needed to key Miceral to the spell that would allow him to empty it himself. He quickly emptied it, turned on the taps, and started to undress.

The first tug on the leather vest made his nose wrinkle. Waving both hands, Farrell made the vest disappear, leaving behind an equally smelly shirt. “Got to put a new spell on that.”

Laughter erupted behind him, and he found Miceral propped against the doorframe. “When did you become so put off by your training vest?”

“I think whatever Erstad did to enhance the protections meddled with the odor control.” He peeled the offensive-smelling shirt from his torso, and it vanished with a flash before it hit the ground. “In case you didn’t notice, leather doesn’t smell so great after I’ve been sweating in it.”

Miceral waved a hand under his nose. “Um… yes, I’ve noticed.”

Sneering playfully, Farrell sat on the edge of the tub and tugged off his boots. “Shouldn’t you be pestering me to hurry up instead of helping me waste time?”

“There’s no rush. Father won’t be here for another half an hour.” Farrell stared at Miceral, certain they had less time than that. Miceral smiled, motioning for him to get in the now-full tub. “I added a few minutes to your estimate to give you some breathing room.”

Farrell slid into the hot bath, happy to take a moment to relax. He dunked his head under the water and found a smiling Miceral inches from his face when he flipped his hair back.

“I think I deserve at least a kiss for being so wise,” Miceral said playfully before he kissed Farrell’s wet face.

“Please don’t get me going.” He grabbed the soap and attacked his body with a vengeance. “We don’t have time for frisky tub antics. Save it for when your father isn’t coming.”

“Sometimes a little spontaneity would be good,” Miceral said while Farrell washed his face. Farrell rinsed the soap from his eyes and saw his lover leaning over to collect his fallen staff. He waited until Miceral had the rod firmly in his hand, then used his link to bring it and Miceral to the edge of the tub. Farrell completed the deed by pulling his off-balanced companion into the bath with him before kissing him deeply.

Miceral sputtered at first before letting himself enjoy the moment. The two rolled about, water going everywhere until Miceral stepped out of the tub, soaking wet. With no choice but to change, Miceral removed his clothing and climbed back into the still-agitated water. Despite the impending arrival of Horgon, they continued their playful exchange until they ran out of time.

All of Haven had already learned of Horgon’s proclivity for being early. With a few minutes to spare, the two raced about, laughing as they rushed to dry off. After dashing naked into the bedroom, they both managed to dress before Horgon arrived.

Miceral answered the door as Farrell went to clean up the soaked bath chamber. A wave of his hand returned the water on the floor to the tub. Next, he gathered his staff and the wet clothing and passed the black wood over the sopping garments. Once they were dry, he emptied the tub and sent the clothes to his closet to be sorted out after Horgon left.

Running his hand through his still-damp hair, he took a deep breath and made his way to the formal sitting room. Horgon stood beside his son, a glass of wine in hand. Farrell smiled at seeing them together. So much had changed since the day the three met.

“Horgon, sorry to keep you. It took me a bit longer than expected to get ready.” He ignored Miceral to keep from blushing.

“From what Miceral tells me, you had a busy afternoon. Baylec’s not known as an easy instructor.” Horgon plucked a third glass from the table and handed it to Farrell. “He and I were boys together much longer ago than I care to admit. Among our people, his skills were legendary until his star pupil eclipsed him.”

Miceral suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Father, we really don’t need to go into this in front of Farrell. I’m sure he’s already suitably impressed with me as it is.”

“It’s true, Horgon, Miceral’s very impressive, especially wet.” He cocked an eyebrow at Miceral, and the two burst into laughter. Horgon joined them, even if he didn’t understand the joke.

Fortunately, the food arrived before he could ask. Farrell conjured a table, and the pages quickly set up for dinner. They set the cart on the side and left with a bow.

Dinner turned out differently from what Farrell expected. Horgon never talked about governing Haven. Instead, he regaled them with tales of the mischief he and Baylec had gotten into as youths. Miceral made a smart comment about his father’s antics and soon found himself the new subject of conversation. For the next several minutes, Horgon related several not-so-flattering tales of Miceral the boy. Miceral accepted the punishment, even filling in details where his father missed them. Amid the laughter and Miceral shouting not to tell this tale or that, the three managed to eat most of the food and drink three bottles of wine.

“This was unfair of me. I told you all Miceral’s most embarrassing moments, and we have none to embarrass you with.” Horgon’s comment changed Farrell’s mood instantly. Horgon’s smile lasted a moment longer. Then he fell silent as Farrell stared beyond the other two.

“My childhood holds no tales of childish antics or fond camaraderie.” Farrell’s voice bordered on cracking, but he didn’t pause to let the others stop him. “After Meglar was driven from Yar-del, my mother sent me to Haven. I was two years old at the time. Mother stayed in Yar-del in a doomed attempt to repair the damage my father caused. Not only did Meglar steal Yar-del’s energy, his actions caused my grandfather’s health to decline. The damage to the Source echoed back on Grandfather. Mother became queen not long after I left.

“I mostly grew up here. Trying to hide in various unoccupied areas was the closest thing I had to high antics. It didn’t take long for even a headstrong youngster like me to realize no one successfully hid from Heminaltose in Haven.”

He chuckled at the image of his master using seeking spells to find his wayward student. Neither Miceral nor his father attempted to stop him, so he continued.

“At the age of seven, I began my training in earnest. Prior to that time, I learned the basic things any young ruler might be taught: reading, math, history, and science. Somewhere in this complex is a room I sealed off years ago. It contains many of the things I had as a youth: my first staffs, small enough for a child; old schoolbooks; pint-sized equipment for spell casting; and all the other things a child wizard needed. No toys, no children’s books, none of that. Heminaltose didn’t have time for a child or child’s fun. I sealed it shortly after he died.

“Since I’d been sent here to hide from my father, no one told me Queen Zenora was my mother for years. They needed to make sure I understood the importance of keeping it a secret before they told me. Evidently, when Heminaltose took me from Yar-del, I screamed and cried for my mother in front of the household staff. Mother cried for days over the separation. Rumors circulated that Bren ordered the death of Meglar’s spawn and had Heminaltose carry it out. They changed my name from Halloran to Farrell and didn’t tell me until they deemed me ready to know the truth.”

The flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but he refused to give in. Nothing could change the past. Why waste the energy on tears?

“I first visited Yar-del when I was twelve. I didn’t learn the truth of my birth until we returned to Haven. Heminaltose waited until after I had a chance to meet my mother before telling me. He said I needed time to process the information before I could see her again. If I suffered, Mother suffered worse. She couldn’t acknowledge me even in private until everyone felt I could be trusted. She and I had so little time together in the end.

“The rest is well-recorded. She and Heminaltose died on the walls of Yar-del when I was seventeen. I returned here with the remains of Yar-del’s royal house and Heminaltose’s personal effects. Sanduval met me when I arrived, and we continued my training. My childhood, such as it was, contained no funny stories, no happy memories. Only a sense of duty and a sense of loss.” Farrell stood up as tears refused to stay back. He turned away so they couldn’t see him cry.

Horgon stood up and went over to him. “Farrell, I’m sorry, more sorry than I can say. I was cruel to you and Miceral at first, because I couldn’t accept that what Lenore had chosen for my son was not what I wanted. Despite that, you gave me a position of trust so that I could still work to protect my people. You’re a better man than I.”

Horgon placed both hands on Farrell’s shoulders and gently turned him around until they were facing each other. “I know my blessing doesn’t matter when Lenore and Honorus have already given you Theirs, but for what it’s worth, you both have my approval. I can’t imagine anyone else for my son than you.”

Farrell collapsed, sobbing, into Horgon’s arms. Horgon pulled him tight, letting him cry against his tunic. “The path that brought you to today has been hard. When Miceral’s mother died, I felt in a small part how you must have felt. She was loving, caring, smart, and beautiful. It was hard for Miceral and me, but we had each other and found a way to move past the pain. We are your family now. Let us help you move past your hurt.”

When he finally gained control of his emotions, Farrell wiped his nose on his sleeve and stepped back. “Horgon, I’m sorry I acted this way in front of you. It’s unbecoming, and I have no explanation. Please accept my apology.”

“Farrell, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.” Horgon retrieved a napkin and gave it to him. “It was long overdue for you to let it out. I meant what I said about being part of the family. Family is there in times of grief. What happened tonight will remain between us.”

Miceral moved to Farrell’s side and pulled him closer. When he felt a kiss on his cheek, Farrell smiled. “Can I kill a festive time, or what?”

“Father’s right.” Miceral used a thumb to wipe a tear from Farrell’s cheek. “For good or bad, we’re your family now. It’s been a long day. How about you go lie down?”

Miceral tried to guide him toward the bedroom, but Farrell stopped them before they could exit.

“Thank you, Horgon. What you said and did means more than I can put into words. Being a son of yours would be my honor.” This time he let Miceral take him to their bedchamber. He removed his boots, then flopped on the bed and turned away.

Miceral slipped behind him and kissed the back of his head. “Rest here while I see Father out.”

Farrell nodded but felt alone when Miceral shut the door behind him. Making his way into the bath chamber, he heard Miceral and Horgon speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He quickly cleaned his teeth, undressed, and slid under the covers.

Stuck in that half-awake, half-asleep state, he felt Miceral climb in bed next to him. Without thinking, he snuggled closer, and a strong arm wrapped around him in response. Miceral said something he didn’t catch. It didn’t matter. He knew Miceral loved him. What more did he need to know?

Chapter 13

FARRELL
WOKE first the next morning, surprising even himself. Lying on his side, he stared at Miceral sleeping peacefully next to him. Recalling the previous night’s events, his calm, peaceful morning evaporated. He’d embarrassed himself, crying in front of Horgon over something that happened ten years ago. Miceral would never want to spend their lives together now.

He loved Miceral beyond anything he thought possible, but it wasn’t enough. Miceral needed him to be more than a child, more than someone who couldn’t control his emotions. Last night he’d shown himself to be weak and pathetic, the silly, soft human Horgon declared him when they met. Miceral deserved someone as strong and beautiful as himself. Instead he got a plain, weak, damaged wizard.

The mere thought he might lose Miceral brought tears to his eyes. His heart pounded so hard he feared he’d wake his partner. Breathing deeply, he blinked the tears away. If Miceral wanted to go, he wouldn’t stop him. He had no right.

Miceral stirred, so Farrell forced a smile.

“Wow, this is a surprise.” Miceral propped a pillow under his head, leaving them a few inches apart. “You wide awake, smiling, waiting for me. I could get used to this.” He leaned in and gave Farrell a small kiss on the cheek.

The emotions that bubbled just below Farrell’s control threatened to explode. Clamping down on his feelings, he kept himself calm.

“I love you.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. He had wanted to say it for the first time in better circumstances, but this could—would—be his last chance.

Eyes wide, Miceral gave him a face-splitting grin. “Wow, I definitely like waking up like this.”

Farrell put aside Miceral’s reaction. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wanted to tell you. If you leave, I won’t stop you, but I needed to say it before you go.”

Miceral’s smile faded into a near-frown. He was no doubt reliving last night’s breakdown. Unable to bear seeing the disappointment in Miceral’s face, Farrell rolled over, reaching out to open the permanent Door in the far corner.

“Farrell, stop. What are you talking about?”

The rustle of sheets set Farrell hurrying around the bed. If Miceral expected him to head to the bath chamber, he could make it to the Door. Silently, he opened the portal and had almost stepped through when Miceral grabbed him from behind.

“What’s wrong? Why are you trying to get away from me? Why would I want to leave because you love me? I love you too.”

Farrell struggled to get away. Against anyone but Miceral, he’d have used magic to escape.

“Wizard, what are you doing?” Nerti’s voice struck him like an anvil. “Klissmor tells me that Miceral is in a panic because you’re trying to get away from him. What has he done?”

“Not what he’s done, it’s what I did or what I’m not.”

“Foolish boy.” He could feel her presence in his mind, rooting around his thoughts.

“Farrell, talk to me, please!” Miceral’s arms tightened around Farrell’s torso.

“Either you talk to him or I’ll clamp down on your mind so hard you won’t be able to blink.” As if to prove she could, Nerti forced him to stop struggling.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him, but I’m coming to see you after we’re done.”

Nerti’s annoyance seeped through their link. “I don’t recall saying you were welcome.”

A snap severed their connection, leaving him alone with Miceral. Short, shallow, rapid breaths slowly gave way to more normal behavior. Once he calmed himself, he realized he was naked.

Fool indeed. Where was I going like this? Knowing Nerti would make good on her threat, he slowly brought his arms up to clasp Miceral’s. “You can let go of me, Ral. I won’t disappear.”

Miceral scooped him up and carried him to the bed. “Please talk to me?”

Turning, Farrell saw a pained, sad expression on Miceral’s face. He’d caused this too. When he nodded, Miceral slid next to him and pulled the sheets up to their waists.

“What just happened? First you say you love me; then you bolt like a rabbit from a fox. What did I do?”

“You?” He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s what I did. What I’m not.”

“What does that mean?”

“Miceral….” Swallowing hard, he fought back the tears. “Your father was right when he first saw me. I am soft, weak. Ten years ago something bad happened, and I’m still crying. I act like my childhood was so bad. Tell that to the kids with no parents because my father stole them and turned them into monsters. Compared to that, my life’s been grand.”

“Farrell—”

“Please.” He put a finger to Miceral’s lips. “If you stop me now, I probably won’t finish.”

Waiting until he saw the small nod, he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

“You mean everything to me, but I know you deserve better, so much better. I’m sorry I’m not the person you deserve. I saw… saw how you frowned moments ago when you remembered last night. Not what you waited seventy-five years for, is it? You don’t have to stay. Go find someone better.”

“Enough.” Miceral sat up, tossing the sheet off. “What madness grips you? Ashamed? Of you? Where did you get such an idea?”

Farrell opened his eyes and moved until he was sitting. “I—”

Miceral pointed his finger, shaking his head. “No, this time you’ll listen to me. If you saw me frown, it was because I couldn’t believe you’d think I want to leave. I’ve wanted to tell you I loved you but didn’t want to scare you off. Every day I thank Lenore for you. Every day. You are so much more than I’d hoped for that I worry what you see in me. So yes, you are what I waited all those years to meet, and no, I’m not going to leave.”

Chewing his lip, Farrell took a moment to respond. What could he say? “You love me?”

Miceral gave out a nervous laugh. “Why are you surprised? Of course I love you. I think I loved you the moment we met, but I knew it for certain when you were tossed aside by the explosion outside Northhelm. My life is with you. Nowhere else.”

This time Farrell couldn’t stop his tears. How could he be so wrong? Or so stupid. He’d nearly pushed Miceral away because of his insecurities.

Miceral pulled him nearer, and Farrell resisted the urge to pull back. Pressed close, he felt the soft blond chest hairs move against his face. “I know I promised to be less insecure, but there are times when it’s so hard. I feel like what I am—a child compared to you.”

Miceral’s lips brushed the top of his head in a light kiss. “Farrell, my saying this won’t help, but you have no reason to question who you are around me. I love you, not some ideal you that’s somewhere in here.” Two fingers tapped the side of Farrell’s head.

Hearing the words helped him push his fears deep inside. “I know you love me. I just get so—”

Miceral put a finger over Farrell’s lips. “Just leave it at that.”

Another kiss brought Farrell’s head up. He moved closer and closed his eyes when their lips met. If he didn’t feel so safe and happy, he might have been embarrassed.

“Okay, but can I say one more thing, please?” With effort, Farrell kept the smirk off his face for a heartbeat. When he smiled, he moved to the side so his lips were closer to Miceral’s ear. “I love you.”

A kiss was Miceral’s response. Leaning back, he felt Miceral’s body settle on his. Despite their size difference, Farrell didn’t feel crushed by the weight. Aroused, he moved to draw Miceral closer when his partner pulled back.

“No time for that now.” Miceral jumped off the bed and headed to the closet before Farrell felt the cool air chill him. “Since you’re up early, we can practice early. Get dressed.”

“How romantic,” he muttered but got up anyway. Despite the snide tone, he didn’t care. Miceral loved him. He could manage everything else.

FARRELL
WOKE with a start. Though they worked well, he hated wake-up spells. He’d never found one that didn’t leave him with a sense of panic. Probably came from being jolted awake. Fortunately, he hadn’t woken Miceral.

Blond hair covered parts of Miceral’s face but didn’t hide the peaceful, content expression. Disturbing him didn’t seem right, but Farrell had plans for the day that didn’t include sleeping late. Of course, how he woke Miceral might make it less wrong.

Gently pushing strands of hair back, he kissed Miceral’s ear and cheek. When that didn’t work, he slowly pushed the sheet back and ran his fingers softly over the tight back muscles. Quicker than he could react, Miceral spun around and encased Farrell in his arms.

“Did you think I didn’t feel you wake up?” Twisting slightly, he brought their lips together for a brief kiss. “What do you have planned that you used a wake-up spell this early?”

“How….” It didn’t matter. Hopefully Miceral hadn’t guessed what he’d planned. “Happy six months together.”

He placed a hand behind Miceral’s head and brought them closer. When their lips met, neither pulled back for a time.

“You woke up early just to wish me a happy six months?” Miceral’s expression seemed surprised but pleased.

Farrell shrugged. “I can see that’s not enough, but fortunately I’ve something else in mind.”

Scooting off the bed, he waved a hand absently in the direction of the bath chamber. “Let’s go, lazy sloth.”

“You realize a sloth is naturally lazy.” Miceral put both hands behind his head and settled back into the pillows. “Calling a sloth lazy is like saying ‘cold ice.’”

“And taunting one’s grand master wizard companion is a recipe for being doused in water for lying in bed.” For emphasis, Farrell conjured a wall of water and positioned it over Miceral.

Miceral looked worried but didn’t move. “Do that and you’ll soak the bed.”

“You’re counting on that to keep you dry?” Farrell let the water inch closer. “There are spells that can dry out mattresses and beds quite nicely, you know.”

Farrell let the liquid drop, watching as Miceral shot up. The expected splash never happened, as the water disappeared inches from contact.

“You sneaky wizard.” Despite his words, Miceral smiled. Farrell ran his eyes up and down his lover’s body. He never got tired of admiring Miceral, especially in his usual morning state. Turning his gaze back to Miceral’s face, he noticed he got the once-over in return.

Miceral smiled, closing the distance between them. “Nice way to wake me up. I suppose I can’t be too angry if you got me out of bed for this.”

Pressed together, Farrell ran his hands through Miceral’s hair as they continued their kiss. When they stopped, he put his hand up to prevent Miceral from resuming his lip-lock. “Ral, much as I want to continue this, I have plans for us. Nerti and Klissmor are going to meet us at seventh hour, and we can’t be late.”

Closing one eye, Miceral stared down his nose. “Where are we going?”

“For a ride.” Farrell took his lover’s hand and pulled him toward the now-ready bath. “It’s a surprise, so please don’t spoil it by asking questions.”

“Fine—for now.” Miceral scooped him up and carried him to the tub. “But I expect to resume this when we get back.”

“I think that can—” He never finished the sentence, as he was dumped into the water. Before he could retaliate, Miceral stepped in behind him.

After kissing the back of his neck, Miceral asked, “Got a spell to dry the chamber out too?”

FARRELL
EXITED close to where Nerti lived. The clear sky, crisp air, and bright sun made for a perfect autumn day. Two baskets sat by a large rock marking the edge of the unicorn homes.

“You enlisted others in this scheme?” Miceral hoisted a basket and handed it to Farrell.

“Did you know that if you talk about doing something totally romantic, Lisle melts like chocolate?” Farrell nodded quickly for emphasis. “Of course, five minutes later, she’s back to her old self.”

Laughing, they rounded an outcrop and found the two unicorns in the clearing.

“I’m glad you didn’t make us wait, Wizard.” Nerti’s playful reproach added to his good mood. “Are we ready to go?”

“You seem eager to be off,” Miceral said, leaping on Klissmor’s back.

“Of course we are. It has been long since Nerti and I have had the chance to run for an extended time.” Klissmor pawed at the ground, as if willing Farrell to get on Nerti and open a Door.

Once on the Plains of Gharaha, the pair raced for the pass. When they cleared the entrance, Farrell turned them north, hugging the mountains at a distance-eating gallop.

The sun had nearly reached its apex when Farrell asked them to slow down. They turned and found themselves in a small glade near a clear mountain brook.

“How did you locate this?” Miceral dismounted and unstrapped the basket from his back. “It’s perfect, but not exactly easy to find.”

Farrell took a blanket from his basket and spread it on the ground. “I have many talents besides being sneaky.”

He removed a large bag of apples with a note from Lisle. For Nerti and Klissmor. Don’t eat them!

“Great Honorus, I have no idea what unicorns like to eat. The clerics handle your care, and they never consult me. Do you even like apples?”

Nerti appeared behind him, her gaze fixed on the bag. “Silly wizard, of course we like apples. I told Lisle to make sure she packed extra for Klissmor and myself.”

Farrell handed one to each unicorn, then took the rest from the bag and set them on a flat rock. Turning his focus to their food, he found Miceral removing items and arranging them on the blanket. The goofy grin as he examined each item made Farrell’s day even better.

They ate most of the food before Farrell pronounced himself full. They followed Nerti and Klissmor down to the stream and sat quietly on the bank while their companions drank.

Farrell stared at the light reflecting off the water, hand straying to his pocket. Fingering the gift he’d brought for Miceral, he debated whether to give it to him. Miceral disliked magical gifts, even though magic helped with so many things. Farrell didn’t understand the aversion, which made his decision harder. Closing his eyes, he let out an unintentional sigh.

“Wow, that’s a serious face.” Miceral’s voice made him look over. “What happened?”

He almost made up some problem, but he didn’t want to lie. And he had made the gift for a reason. “Trying to figure out how to ask you something.”

Miceral moved closer and put his arm around Farrell. “What can be so bad that you can’t just ask me?”

“It’s not bad… well, I don’t think it’s bad, but you might not like it. Actually, I’m sure you won’t like it at first. It’s just a matter of how mad you’ll get and if you’ll hear me out.”

“Farrell, what are you babbling about?” Miceral chuckled softly. “Just ask me.”

Farrell drew in a deep breath and held it to calm himself. He let it out at the same time he reached into his pocket. The round ivory amulet on a long platinum chain dangled from his hand. He watched as Miceral’s face scrunched up as he eyed the pendant. Farrell traced the symbols he’d carved on it with his thumb. “I made this for you, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Miceral turned his eyes up to meet Farrell’s. “It’s beautiful. Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“It’s not just a pendant, Ral.” He pointed to the family crest of Yar-del in the center. “This is my family seal. The symbols around the edge were made just for you, but otherwise it’s the mirror image of the one I wear.”

Movement behind them let him know Nerti and Klissmor were inching closer. He watched Miceral’s face for a sign he understood but found none.

“The amulet has magical properties. Most significantly, with it, you and I can communicate mind to mind, like we do with Nerti and Klissmor.” Here, he paused, waiting for the expected reaction. Miceral’s features hardened and his eyes narrowed. If Farrell didn’t act now, he’d lose the moment. “Please, hear me out before you say anything.”

Miceral turned away only to find Klissmor staring at him. Something must have passed between them because, when he turned back, Miceral nodded twice. His face told Farrell how much he opposed the idea. At least he agreed to listen.

“I know you hate magic being worked on you, and you really hate magic that gets inside your head, but I swear by Honorus and Lenore this isn’t like that. More, this is linked only to me, and you have to know by now I won’t enter your mind without permission.”

The lack of change in Miceral’s demeanor didn’t encourage him, but he pressed on. “Soon Meglar will be on the move again, and when he is, I know you’re not going to sit back and do nothing. You’ll ride out with the resistance to help in the fight.”

“Of course I will. I—all my people—owe him for the loss of our home.”

“I know.” Slowly, he pulled out an amulet from under his tunic. “This is the mate to yours. I… it should have been linked to my mother’s. She died before they could be connected. Not that it would have mattered.”

Thinking about his mother nearly derailed him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed her and his feelings aside for now. He didn’t want to mess this up. He opened his eyes and pressed on. “Even if I went with you to fight Meglar, we would be separated by our tasks. These will allow us to speak to each other no matter where the other is.”

“Farrell, you know I hate this kind of magic. Why would you ask me this?” Miceral’s kept himself under control, despite the sharp tone to his voice.

Good. Now to keep it that way.

“Ral, at any time I could slip into your mind; you know I can. But I haven’t, and I won’t without your permission. I hope you trust me enough to believe that.”

“Of course, but this is different.”

Farrell held up his hand to cut him off. “No disrespect, but how do you know this is different? All this does is make it easier for you to find me and me to find you. It’ll be no more intrusive than the two of us speaking to each other.”

Miceral stared at him for several seconds. “You swear that’s all these are capable of? Just letting us speak to each other?”

“Capable of? No, they’re capable of being used to do a lot more. But it won’t give me any powers I don’t already have. In fact, it’ll give you power over me that you don’t have now.”

Miceral raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. Farrell took this as an invitation to keep going.

“With this you’ll be able to enter my mind, and if your will is strong enough, you’d be able to control me. It would require significant amounts of training to do that, but it’s possible. So I’m really the one who’s giving up something. Of course it’ll only work on me, but then, who else would you want to try to seduce with it?”

Miceral smiled, letting Farrell relax a bit. When Miceral turned toward Klissmor, Farrell felt Nerti’s touch in his mind.

“Klissmor seeks to sway him to accept your gift.” Nerti’s words helped calm him. “It’s a good idea. Miceral will come to understand that.”

When Miceral turned toward the water, Farrell assumed his conversation with Klissmor had ended.

“Miceral?” He waited for Miceral to turn his way. “You know that I would never violate your privacy?”

Miceral reached over for his hand. Running his thumb gently over Farrell’s fingers, he flashed one of his most disarming smiles. “Trusting you is easy. I don’t even have to think about it. I see the benefits in your gift as well as the trust you have in me. I’m sorry if I overreacted. It must seem like I’m questioning your motives, and that’s the farthest thing from the truth.”

Farrell quickly shook his head. “I never thought that, Ral. To nonwizards, magic can be daunting. Meglar’s living proof of what can happen when a wizard misuses his power. All I wanted was for you to hear me out, which you did. Whatever you decide, I’m already happy.”

Glancing at the two very interested unicorns, Miceral reached out for the amulet. “Magic unnerves me, but not when the wizard is you. Every day I see how much you love me. It just took me a moment to realize this was another example of that love.”

Farrell fixed his gaze on the gift. “There’s another benefit to wearing this. It will block anyone else from entering your mind. But….” He held it up and away from Miceral’s hand. “Before I give it to you, there is something you have to know. Once we link them, neither of us will be able to remove ours without the other’s consent. This protects us both. Even unconscious I could find you through our link. We both must agree or neither can come off. The only exception is if one of us dies. Then the link is severed.”

Bending his head closer to Farrell, Miceral smiled. “I already know I’m going to spend my life with you. This is not a hard decision. Besides, Klissmor told me this is a good thing, and I know better than to argue with him.”

Klissmor nudged Miceral with a hoof, but both unicorns appeared amused. Farrell slipped the amulet over Miceral’s head and brushed aside the hair to make sure it rested on his neck. Before Miceral could tuck it inside his tunic, Farrell pulled the mate from his chest and touched the two together. A spark flared from the pair, followed by a constant glow.

“This is the fun part.” Farrell smirked, getting a laugh from Miceral. “You need to kiss me while they are touching to link them.”

Miceral rolled his eyes but maintained his smile. “There’s no way to link them other than a kiss?”

“Of course there are, but those we need to do in private.” They both laughed, careful not to separate their necklaces. Miceral bent forward and gently pressed his lips to Farrell’s. The faint glow grew brighter, pulsed twice, and winked out. Their kiss lasted well after the light disappeared.

Turning the ivory circle over in his hand, Miceral carefully tucked it inside his tunic. “Can I speak to you mind to mind now?”

“You’ll need to learn how to make it work. I made sure it wasn’t an open link. Otherwise I’d hear every thought you have until you learn to control it. Much as there are times I would like to know what you’re thinking, only a fool would consider that’s a good thing.”

Nerti and Klissmor nodded their agreement, getting a laugh from the pair. “So how do I make it work?”

“Like I said, it’s the same as talking to Klissmor. Just think of me and send me your thoughts.”

“That’s it?” Miceral said.

“Ask me without saying it.” Farrell watched Miceral’s eyes grow wider. “My voice sounds different when I speak into your mind.”

“Very!”

“That’s normal.” Farrell gave him a wink to let Miceral know he’d been successful. “But try not to yell. Just do it in a normal voice.”

“What’s…?” Miceral’s hand flew to his mouth. “What’s a normal voice?”

“What you did just now.” Farrell stood up and offered his hand to Miceral. “Let’s gather our things and head back. The Six only know what Erstad and Wesfazial are doing in my absence.”

They collected the remains of their meal and began the ride back to Haven. As they rode home, Farrell and the unicorns worked with Miceral on speaking with his mind. Miceral quickly mastered the technique of slipping from spoken to mental speech, speaking to Farrell as easily as Farrell spoke to Nerti.

“However,” Farrell said, “I prefer we speak out loud unless we need to be silent. I like hearing you with my ears.”

“Glad to hear you appreciate my fine voice.”

“I do, except when you sing,” he said with a smirk. “You have many gifts, but singing is definitely not one of them.”

“Hey!” Miceral puffed out his chest. He paused a moment, his face letting Farrell know Klissmor was speaking to him. “I have a fine singing voice, despite what you and this pointy-nosed horse say.”

Klissmor nearly tossed Miceral from his seat.

“Fine, I’ll prove it.” He launched into a song so off-key Farrell cringed.

After a few bars, he knew Miceral intentionally sang terribly. Not to be outdone, Farrell joined him, doing his best to be equally off-key. As they approached the pass, singing badly and laughing at each other, the guard at the northeast corner came to attention with a sour look on his face. They laughed harder, each accusing the other’s voice of causing the soldier’s pained expression.

When they rounded the pass onto the plains, Farrell instantly went rigid in his seat, his good mood gone. Ahead of them, a column of horses rode hard, kicking up a cloud of dust. Detection spells told him what his eyes could see; someone had found Haven. And they rode straight for the eastern gate.

Chapter 14

NERTI
DIDN’T need to be asked to go faster. Klissmor matched her burst as they raced in tandem to catch up to the newcomers. Scanning the riders with his wizard’s sight, Farrell detected no wizards. How had they gotten here without one?

“Ral, I’m going to magically enhance my sight. Do you want me to include you?”

“Yes!” Miceral shouted into his mind.

Ignoring the pain, he included his partner in his spell. Approximately thirty horsemen galloped hard for the eastern gate. Beyond them, a large contingent of soldiers from Haven waited in front of the now-closed gate. At the center of Haven’s forces, Wesfazial looked serious but not worried.

“Nerti, can you tell Wesfazial where we are and find out what’s happening?”

She didn’t respond, nor did she ease back from her blistering pace. A burn in his lungs told him he was holding his breath. Letting it out, he concentrated on the riders slowly coming closer.

“Wesfazial said they are messengers from Honal. Now that we’ve returned, he asks that we join him with all possible speed.”

“Can we overtake them?” Miceral’s voice carried to him over their link.

“We will not reach Wesfazial before they arrive. Their lead is too great.” For all that he ran, Klissmor’s voice remained measured and calm. “But it will be close.”

“I can fix that.” Farrell got a mental lock on Klissmor. “Angle to their left. I don’t want to be attacked when I pull us closer to the gate.”

Waiting until they changed course, Farrell pulled them halfway across the plains in the blink of an eye. Riding as if nothing had happened, the group trailed the fast-tiring horses by only a hundred yards.

Nerti kept to her pace, quickly drawing even with their guests. She led them north, heading directly for Wesfazial and the others. Safely ahead of the Honalese cavalry, Farrell leaned forward, enjoying the feel of the air whipping around him. Glancing left, he flashed Miceral a playful grin, then urged Nerti faster. He felt a mental laugh just before she lurched ahead of her mate.

Over his shoulder, he saw Klissmor’s head bob as he sought to match her speed. Their race brought them to the gate well ahead of the Honalese riders.

“Nice entrance, lad.” Wesfazial smirked. “We had the unicorns and peregrines remain inside to keep them secret, but there’s no helping them seeing you four.”

“What in Honorus’s name are they doing here?” Farrell made to dismount, but Nerti stopped him.

“As Prince of Haven, you must meet them mounted.”

He looked over to Miceral, who nodded his agreement.

“Not really sure.” Wesfazial’s voice drew his attention. “We received a message from Cylinda that King Christian wanted to send a delegation to speak with you. We came out to greet them. Erstad is in the hills above us monitoring things, just to be sure everything is as it appears.”

“We passed nothing on our way home.” With Cylinda involved, Farrell didn’t suspect treachery. Still, it never hurt to be cautious. Straightening his tunic, he turned his attention back to the Honalese. “They’ll be here soon enough. We’ll get our answers then.”

Nerti turned to face the approaching riders with Klissmor a pace behind her to the right. Wesfazial seemed content to stand with the soldiers. Farrell drew his staff and laid it across his lap.

“Show-off,” he heard the elder wizard mumble.

“Never hurts to let them know who and what I am,” Farrell said without looking back. To Miceral, he sent, “Move up beside me.”

“No, you rule here, not I. Your position must be clear.” Before he broke the link, he added, “I love you, my little wizard prince.”

It took all his will not to turn to Miceral and almost as much to keep a big grin from splitting his face. Maintaining his stoic appearance, Farrell readied a defensive spell despite Erstad’s presence above.

The riders slowed and came to a stop a few paces from Farrell. Nerti moved two steps closer.

“Greetings, riders of Honal. What brings you to Haven?” Farrell scanned the group and locked on a dark-haired man in the center. The air of authority and the way the others looked to him told Farrell this one led the delegation. When the man nudged his tired mount closer, Farrell smiled.

“On behalf of King Christian of Honal, I bring greetings to the people of Haven.” He bowed his head just enough to show respect but not enough to indicate that he thought Farrell outranked him. “I am Baron Glaus, and I bear a message for the Wizard Prince Farrell.”

“I am Grand Master Farrell.” Farrell kept his gaze locked on Glaus, daring the man to challenge him.

Glaus looked puzzled, glancing at Wesfazial before he bowed a second time, much lower. “Hail, Lord Farrell of Haven. Forgive me. I didn’t expect you would arrive from behind us.”

Farrell laughed. That might be one reason for Glaus’s confusion, but he knew the real one. “And you were expecting someone older, like my mentor Master Wesfazial.”

Glaus gave him a small smile but otherwise kept his composure. “That too, m’lord.”

Acknowledging the concession, Farrell nodded slightly. “This is no place to greet guests or discuss matters of importance.” He looked back to Wesfazial, who stepped forward. “Master Wesfazial will escort you into Haven. But before we part, allow me to introduce Queen Nerti and Klissmor, her mate.”

Nerti and Klissmor bowed their heads to the baron. His eyes widened as he realized the implications of what he heard. Bowing deeply, he held it long enough to satisfy protocol.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor beyond words.”

“We are pleased to meet you, Baron.” Nerti nodded again, clearly dismissing the man. Though she rarely invoked her title, when she did, Farrell felt small and inadequate by comparison.

“Fret not, little one. I’ve had millennia to perfect my appearance.”

“With that, Baron”—Farrell bowed politely—“we must make ourselves ready for your visit.”

Wesfazial and the soldiers stepped forward before Glaus could answer. Nerti moved left, and, once clear of the crowd, Farrell opened a Door. The flash of light brought a gasp from several of the Honalese soldiers.

“Showing off?” Miceral sounded amused.

“Glaus questioned my authority, even if unintentionally. That small display should show I am what I say.”

On the way to their rooms, Farrell managed to tell a soldier to send a page to their apartment immediately. He filled the tub as he undressed, hoping Wesfazial would allow Glaus a moment to clean up and rest before bringing him to Farrell’s rooms. After washing quickly, he was pulling on suitable pants when he heard a knock on the door.

“Miceral?” He finished buttoning his pants and passed the bath chamber on his way to the door. “The page is here. Anything special I should ask for?”

“Nothing beyond the usual.”

Running his hand through his still-wet hair, he opened the door and froze. Horgon stood with Wesfazial, Erstad, Glaus, and someone Farrell didn’t recognize. Horgon threw him a sympathetic look while his mentors glared at him. Silently, he stepped back, allowing his guests to enter.

Horgon nodded for him to go, taking charge of things. “Wesfazial, didn’t I tell you they weren’t expecting us to come directly to their chambers? I believe you owe me a bottle of wine.”

“Figured the boy would have more sense than to come half-naked to the door,” the wizard grumbled.

“Go finish getting cleaned up.” Horgon nudged him toward the bedroom. “I’ll take our guests to the sitting room.”

Farrell took two steps and then spun around. “Horgon.” When he turned, Farrell motioned him closer. “I never got to order food and drink.”

“Ah, sorry.” Horgon cringed. “I intercepted the page and sent him back with orders for what to bring.”

Nodding, Farrell shut the door behind him. He scowled when he saw Miceral wrapped in a towel, smiling.

“Not the page, was it?” Miceral laughed.

“Be quiet or I’ll remove your clothes as soon as you enter the sitting room.” Staring, Farrell couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Or at least I’d think of doing it.”

“Sorry, but look at the goblet as half full—you weren’t still in a towel.” Miceral yanked his off for emphasis, nearly ripping it in the process. Laughing, Farrell pulled on a light tan silk tunic before searching for his boots.

“Staff or no staff?”

Miceral emerged from his closet holding a pale blue shirt. “Did Erstad or Wesfazial have one?”

“I think Wesfazial did, but he had his out front.” Turning the black staff over in his hand, he shrugged. “No staff. It might seem like I’m compensating for my embarrassing entrance.”

Miceral walked over, tunic still in hand. The amulet stuck to his skin at an odd angle. “Be yourself. You don’t need to impress anyone.” He kissed Farrell on the cheek and pulled his shirt over his head. “Let me get my boots and we can go.”

Miceral insisted Farrell lead the way, refusing to even hold his hand. Everyone sat as two pages set out food and drink. Farrell stood in the doorway and used the moment to look at the man seated next to Baron Glaus. Dressed in the scarlet livery of Honal, he appeared about Farrell’s age. Although Glaus did the talking, he deferred to the younger man. A moment later, the man nudged the baron and pointed toward Farrell and Miceral.

“Baron Glaus, sorry to keep you waiting.” Farrell moved into the room, heading for the couch across from their guests. “My apologies for greeting you as I did. You were… um… unexpectedly quick.”

“There was a lively debate among your advisors whether we should wait or not.” Glaus smiled, looking toward Horgon. “It appears your first minister was correct.”

Farrell laughed. “My first minister is Miceral’s father.” He then realized they didn’t know who Miceral was. Feeling the blood rush to his face, he glanced at Miceral, who didn’t seem upset. “My apologies again. I didn’t get a chance to introduce Miceral….” He didn’t know how to announce him, since the issue had never come up before. “My life partner to be.”

The baron bowed politely. From the corner of his eye, he saw Horgon raise an eyebrow.

“Prince Farrell.” Glaus stood and turned to his companion. “May I present my cousin, Prince Kerstand of Honal.”

The younger man stood, his expression hard to read. To Farrell the prince seemed anxious and unhappy. Glaus whispered something from the side of his mouth, and Kerstand bowed respectfully.

“Prince Kerstand.” Farrell inclined his head. “An honor to meet you.”

“Thank you, Lord Farrell. The honor is mine. Cylinda spoke much of you.” A mischievous grin played on his face for a brief instant. “Like my cousin, I expected you to be much older.”

Farrell decided he liked Kerstand. He lacked the stiff demeanor of so many nobles. “Looks can be deceptive, Prince Kerstand. Miceral is more than a hundred years older than I. I’ll leave it for you to guess his true age.”

The small frown left Glaus’s face when Farrell winked at the prince. A page brought out a tray of drinks and served their guests first. When everyone had settled, he nodded for the two servants to leave.

“So, Baron, what brings you to Haven?” Farrell peered over his cup. Horgon would not have brought them directly from the gate unless the baron had asked. He saw no reason for small talk.

Erstad’s eyes narrowed, drawing a glare from Farrell. Everyone had interrupted his day—his special day—without notice. He didn’t need to apologize for wanting them gone.

The baron gave him a smile and a nod. Hopefully he took the hint. “My thanks, Lord Farrell. I would not have intruded on you like this were it not a matter of great importance to Honal.”

“Please, call me Farrell. Rank has less importance among wizards. Ability and wisdom count more than titles, especially when there are so many princes and sovereigns at Haven.”

Glaus and Kerstand turned to each other, then back to Farrell. Before he could explain, Horgon took up the discussion.

“Many of those at Haven had titles and positions tied to kingdoms Meglar conquered. Rank is still recognized among the various communities, but Haven has its own court, and Farrell is our prince. Some nobles have positions of authority in Haven, some do not. Myself, I led my people before Lenore sent us here. At Haven, I retained that authority over my people, but as a vassal to Prince Farrell. My position as first minister was at his behest, not due to some right. Those who have not accepted this new reality are not part of Haven’s court.”

“It sounds like a wise solution to an otherwise difficult situation. My cousin and I shall remember that while we are here.” He glanced to Prince Kerstand, who gave him a small nod. Glaus seemed put off by the lack of comment but recovered quickly.

“King Christian has sent us to Haven as emissaries from Honal. Since the fall of Endor, his majesty has been tireless in his preparation for Meglar’s inevitable attack. From our agents, we know Pelipan is doing the same.

“We are, however, faced with a simple reality; we lack wizards capable of standing up to Meglar. Our wizards paint a grim picture. Even if Meglar is only as powerful as when he conquered Endor, we cannot defeat him.”

Farrell nodded but otherwise kept his emotions in check. Of course they couldn’t defeat him. Heminaltose had told them that years ago and they ignored him.

“Our people won’t turn and flee. We’ll fight to the end, but my uncle understands that, barring divine intervention, Honal will fall. The wizard, Cylinda, advised us we could find aid at Haven. His majesty sent us to discuss a treaty.” Glaus briefly looked to his cousin, but Kerstand didn’t turn. “In addition, King Christian asks that you allow his son to remain here for his safety and to ensure the survival of the royal line toward that day when Honal can be reclaimed.”

Farrell waited to be certain Glaus had nothing more to add. Miceral’s hand on top of his helped keep his voice steady.

“Prince Kerstand is of course welcome.” Farrell ignored the look Erstad gave him. “Your people are also welcome, should you choose not to fight to the end. Haven was created to preserve the Seven Kingdoms until the circumstances favor us and not Meglar.”

“What circumstances would entice you to confront Meglar?” Kerstand asked. “Join your forces to ours and we might not be forced to flee.”

Staring at the young man, Farrell shook his head slowly. “No.”

Kerstand’s jaw tightened. “Why not? Are you afraid?”

Glaus put a hand on Kerstand’s leg, drawing an angry look. “Forgive my cousin’s tone. The prospect of Honal being conquered is a cause of great distress to all, especially the ruling house.”

Ignoring the baron’s words, Farrell locked eyes with Kerstand. Did he even understand the irony of his words coming from a son of the house of Honal? Feeling the eyes of everyone on him, he took a breath to remain in control.

“Prince Kerstand, I don’t fear Meglar, but I have a healthy respect for his power. We will meet him when and where the Six have decreed.”

“You’re prepared to let Meglar conquer the rest of the Seven Kingdoms while you wait for a sign from the Six?” Kerstand’s voice bordered on disdain. “With your aid, Honal and Pelipan might be strong enough to defeat Meglar. We need your help now. Surely that’s enough of a sign.”

Tuning out the others, Farrell kept his eyes on the prince. “I understand you’re emotional, but don’t speak to me about inaction. What aid did Honal offer Yar-del or Endor? None. Instead, your father sat safely behind his walls and did nothing.”

Kerstand leapt to his feet. “How dare you suggest my father is a coward!”

Standing, Farrell stared him down. “I was there when Queen Zenora asked your father for aid ten years ago. He refused her. Your father sat back, hoping Meglar would be satisfied with Yar-del. No!” He glared at Kerstand, not willing to be silent. “I was there! Heminaltose told your father Meglar wouldn’t stop with Yar-del. Only Clement and Endor stood with Zenora.

“Had your father and the other kings stood with Yar-del and Endor that day, we might have prevailed. Instead, he did nothing, and my master died.”

He fought back the tears raised by his mother’s death, unable to tell them the truth.

“When Meglar turned to Endor, again your father and the other kings turned a deaf ear to Clement’s plea. They reasoned that if Endor had not sided with Yar-del, Meglar wouldn’t have turned on them. Fools. All of them.”

Much as he tried, he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. How dare they question him when they gave nothing themselves?

“Sanduval was the last grand master in the Seven Kingdoms and the last hope to defeat Meglar. Had Christian and the others come to Clement’s aid, Meglar might yet have been vanquished. But instead they stayed safely at home, and Meglar conquered Endor and slew Sanduval.”

Kerstand’s righteous anger seemed gone as he slowly sat down. The sound of people breathing cut the silence.

“Now that I’m the last grand master, I’ll not risk my life until I’m ready. If Honal or Pelipan or both fall, so be it. There is no debt to repay for aid rendered. But lest you think my words are simply anger or bitterness, though I have enough of both in me, know this: I cannot defeat him yet. The Six have devised a plan, and only if I follow it can I be victorious. Without a doubt, their plan does not involve me confronting Meglar at Honal.”

Silence followed as he sat down. Horgon stood up, drawing all eyes to him as he walked over to get some food.

“Perhaps a break?”

Miceral stood up, but Farrell shook his head. Erstad and Wesfazial joined father and son, while the cousins from Honal remained seated.

Looking chastised, Glaus turned his gaze to his host. “Farrell, I hear the pain and sorrow of your loss. Hindsight is a wonderful tool, and with it, we in Honal realize the folly of our response to Meglar’s threat. There is nothing we can do to make amends for our lack of support to Yar-del and Endor. If I thought your decision was driven by spite, I’d argue the ill-conceived decisions of one man, even a king, shouldn’t doom everyone else to death.

“However, Cylinda told my uncle you would not aid him and why. Though she shamed him for his inaction, she also explained you would not deviate from the plan the Six set forth. For that reason, knowing you cannot aid us as we needed, King Christian sends you his son. It is his hope that you will prevail and Honal can be restored.”

“Christian should send all his people, not just his youngest son,” Erstad said, handing Farrell a plate of food. “Eat. I know you won’t later. Both of you as well.”

Glaus smiled at the older man before standing up. Kerstand remained rooted in his seat, staring at the carpet. “Kers, you need to eat.”

Kerstand shrugged, never looking up. The baron left him, only to return a moment later with a plate he almost had to force into the prince’s hands. “If you don’t, I’ll send you back to your father until you listen to me.”

Glaring at his cousin, Kerstand grabbed a wedge of cheese and took a bite. Glaus rolled his eyes but went back to the food.

Farrell had as much interest in eating as Kerstand, but under the watchful eye of his mentors, he did as instructed. When Kerstand lifted his head, Farrell couldn’t hold back a smile. “It would appear, Kerstand, that our authority as princes does not extend to eating.”

Kerstand rewarded his comment with a grin and showed a bit more enthusiasm for his food.

“That’s the truth,” Wesfazial said, taking the seat next to Farrell. “You’d both do well not to forget it, either.”

“Yes, Master Wesfazial.” Out of his mentor’s field of vision, Farrell rolled his eyes, making Kerstand laugh.

“We may take you up on your offer, but our pride is too great to leave without a fight.” He heard Glaus speaking to Horgon and Erstad. “Any aid you can offer will of course be greatly appreciated.”

“Fighting back does have some benefits,” Erstad replied. “Chamdon require energy to create and can only be used once. It takes Meglar years to gather enough slaves to turn into his army. That has given us time to work on what the Six outlined for Farrell.

“Short of confronting Meglar directly, we have significant resources we can offer to help save as many of your people as possible. Unfortunately, once Meglar arrives in person, he sweeps aside all resistance. When that time comes, you must flee rather than stand until the last. More than survival is at stake.

“Every person he captures becomes another Chamdon he will use against his next target. Fighting to the last, while honorable, only hastens Meglar’s next attack. Every person you deny him is the same as killing a Chamdon. Make sure your uncle understands the danger.”

Listening to Erstad talk about what to expect soured Farrell’s mood. Now he wanted everyone to leave before he could no longer maintain proper decorum for his guests. “As I said before, Prince Kerstand is welcome at Haven. He can help prepare for the arrival of your people and stand as a liaison for his father. I think for now it’s best if we retire for the night and talk more tomorrow. Horgon will find someone to escort you to your quarters.”

Fortunately, everyone took the hint and started to leave. Horgon and Glaus led the way, discussing what time to meet. Farrell remained with Miceral, waiting to follow the others out. Before leaving, Kerstand turned on his heel and walked over to Farrell.

“My apologies, Farrell. I was terribly rude to you. I didn’t fully appreciate your loss.” He looked up at the picture of Zenora. “She’s beautiful. Who is she?”

Farrell caught himself before he said “My mother.” He felt Miceral reach for his hand, lending him strength to keep control.

“Queen Zenora of Yar-del. She and Master Heminaltose were always close. That picture was his. Since he died defending her and Yar-del, I felt it fitting that her picture and the royal pennant of Yar-del hang here as a reminder of who and what he gave his life for.”

“Your master was by all accounts a great and honorable man. I’m sure you miss him dearly.” Kerstand gave Farrell a deep bow. “I appreciate your hospitality, even if I do not wish to be sent away. I hope we three can be friends.”

“Prince Kerstand, you will always be welcome in our home,” Miceral said before Farrell could respond.

Chapter 15

“DON’T
GET any ideas of dumping me for a younger prince!” Farrell said to Miceral as he watched the door close.

“As if that little boy could compare to you.” Miceral swept him into an embrace. A passionate kiss followed, and Farrell stared up, feeling bemused. “Life partner to be? When did that happen? And how come no one asked me?”

“Ugh. I knew I shouldn’t have said that. I froze when I thought about how to introduce you and convey how important you are to me. Friend? Close friend? Really close friend? What should I have—” He would have continued, except Miceral’s lips covered his.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Miceral said when he moved back slightly. “I’m not mad.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.” Farrell freed a hand and rested it against Miceral’s cheek. “That was too personal to blurt out in front of everyone, especially before we discussed it. Hopefully it won’t spread to the five corners of Haven.”

“We could always fix it so it’s not a problem.” Miceral flashed him a wicked grin.

He laughed at the grin. “How’s that?”

“We could make it official and have a union ceremony at this year’s Winter Festival.” The smile disappeared but Miceral still seemed happy.

Farrell stared at him, trying to process what he heard. Union ceremony. Before he could answer, a smile split his face.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” Miceral asked.

“Of course it’s a yes, you big oaf.” Farrell kissed him before Miceral could respond.

Miceral scooped him up, kicked the door to their private suite closed, and carried him to their bedroom. “This calls for a private celebration.”

FARRELL
COULDN’T stifle a yawn as he rubbed the water from his hair. “Someone kept us up too late last night.”

Across their room, he heard Miceral snort. “The way I remember it, when I pulled you closer so we could go to sleep, you decided twice wasn’t enough.”

Blood rushed to Farrell’s face, and other places, when he remembered how they’d ended their night. “I didn’t hear any complaints.”

“And you won’t. I just wanted to be clear it wasn’t me who kept us up with his overactive affections.”

“I never said you kept us up, just that someone did.” He went back to the bath chamber to empty the tub. “Too bad we couldn’t sleep in, but if Lisle hears this from someone else, we’ll never live it down.”

“Never live what down?” Lisle’s voice caused him to lose control of the spell, flooding the room.

Silencing a curse, he cleaned it up before she could see what happened. “Us leaving early without emptying the tub.”

Miceral appeared from the bedroom, struggling to control his smile. “I’m trying to get him up early enough so we aren’t in your way, but sometimes things keep us up.”

Lisle stared down her nose at Farrell. Feeling himself turning crimson, he quickly offered a less embarrassing reason. “Unplanned state visit from the Prince of Honal.”

The mock frown turned into a real one. “By the Six, you had those people here?”

Lisle dashed toward the formal room, and Farrell and Miceral followed, shaking their heads.

“Child.” She turned on him the moment he set foot in the room. “Next time you have guests—royal guests—you let me know in advance.”

“Lisle—” Miceral stopped when she glared in his direction.

“None of your lip, either.” She snapped her fingers at him, then pointed until Miceral seemed to submit. “Just because you’ve kept him neater and made sure he wakes at a respectable hour, that doesn’t give you a free pass. To think, everyone in Haven….”

Farrell waved his hand, and her voice trailed off. Her body stiff and her eyes barely open, she glared at him. “If you’re finished… oh wait… you are.” If he thought she was ready to spit fire at him before, now he expected her to grow scales, wings, and a tail. “Would you please join us in our private area? We want to talk to you about something important.”

Snapping his fingers, he turned without waiting for her to answer. If nothing else, he knew she’d follow just to lecture him. Farrell motioned toward an overstuffed chair against the wall, and it slid toward him. Under a withering stare he ignored, he held it out for her as she eyed him suspiciously.

“What did you boys do this time?” She scanned the room before taking the offered seat. “And how dare you use magic on me like that? I ought to walk out and leave you to clean up after yourselves. Then who’d take care of you? No one, that’s who. Tell me why I shouldn’t leave now.”

“If you leave, you won’t be the first to know Miceral and I are getting joined at the Winter Festival. I suppose you could get the details from the gossipy old women, but if you want to go, there’s not much we could do to stop you.”

For the first time he could remember, Lisle was speechless. She looked from him to Miceral and back. Then, to his complete shock, she began to cry.

“Great Mother Lenore.” When she started to wipe hers eye with her sleeve, Farrell conjured a silk handkerchief for her. Dabbing her face, she smiled despite the tears. “Lads, you don’t know how happy I am for you. Look at me gushing tears like you’re my own children. Well, I’m thrilled beyond words. And thank you for letting me know before I heard it from those old biddies who do nothing except gossip all day. I mean, if they found out first, they’d run around Haven clucking like a mother hen about how you two didn’t tell me.”

Miceral laughed first, causing Farrell to lose his control. She stopped talking and cocked her head at them before joining in. It took a few moments to settle, but Farrell decided he needed to tell her the rest before he lost his nerve.

“Who else would I tell first? You’ve always been something of a mother to me. Great Honorus, why else would I put up with your lip if I didn’t feel that way?” Seeing her face go from a happy smile to a stony frown brought a mischievous grin to his face. For three seconds he had the upper hand.

“Now you listen here. Just because I clean your rooms and look after you doesn’t give you the right to treat me like that. If it wasn’t for this nice child who’s taken a liking to you—why, I cannot understand, other than you put one of your little spells on him—I’d short sheet your bed and see to it your towels were as coarse as sanding paper.”

Farrell walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Lisle, for watching over me when I had no one. Whether you meant it or not, you were my lifeline when I needed one. You were the one constant in my life before Miceral. I’m not sure I’d have survived if you hadn’t been there for me. I’ve never given you the thanks you deserved, but let me say it today. Thank you for everything you do for me.” He bent and kissed her cheek again.

“Boy, you had to ruin a perfectly good lecture by saying something sweet like that. If what I did meant that much, then you are welcome to every last bit of it. It has always been my pleasure watching over you and a tremendous joy to see you so in love. I’m happy for you both.”

“For what it is worth, let me add my thanks.” Miceral kissed the other cheek. “He’d be impossible to live with if you hadn’t taught him some sense.” Miceral leapt back to avoid Farrell’s swat.

“Just be sure you find a replacement to clean our rooms on Winter Festival day,” Farrell said with a smile.

“On your most important day, you want me to find someone else to take care of you? Are you mad?”

Farrell smiled at Miceral before turning back to her. “I don’t have a sponsor, unless you count my father, but he is too busy trying to conquer the Seven Kingdoms to attend the ceremony. What I’m trying and failing to say is I want you to be my sponsor. I meant what I said. You’ve been there for me just as my mother would have. Anyone else would be a stand-in, not someone I thought of as family.”

She started to cry again before she stood up and hugged him tight. A moment later, she pulled in Miceral. When she stepped back, she used the yellow handkerchief Farrell had given her to clean her face.

“I would be honored, but if you tell anyone you saw me cry, I’ll make your lives miserable, and don’t think I can’t.” She glared at them. “Now get out and let me clean that mess you made in the other room. You must have better things to do than bother me while I’m working.”

Laughing at how quickly she reverted to her gruff persona, Farrell nodded to Miceral and they left. They found Horgon in his office near the audience chamber.

“Both your mentors will be upset to hear this,” Horgon told him after congratulating them. “They bet me you wouldn’t announce it today, and I told them you would. I just won another case of old wine.”

“You need to find someone other than your future son-in-law to bet on, Father. It’s not seemly.”

Grabbing them both by the shoulder, Horgon beamed like a proud parent. “My only question is: What took you both so long to figure this out?”

Farrell exchanged blank stares with Miceral. When his partner smiled, he did as well. “We were being mindful of Farrell’s virtue.”

The roar of laughter from Horgon brought a clerk to the office. Taking advantage of the timely arrival, Horgon dictated an official announcement.

Erstad and Wesfazial joined them, and they held a brief celebration in Horgon’s office. The revelry ended with the arrival of the Honalese delegation, eager to discuss the proposed alliance.

After a short round of pleasantries, the two sides discussed what aid Haven could offer and the logistics of an evacuation, should it come to that. Farrell’s mind drifted, causing him to miss most of the details.

During a short break, Horgon leaned toward him. “Why don’t you go to weapons practice? We’ve long since passed the general topics of aid and shelter. All that remains are the details.”

Farrell did his best to keep the grin from his face but failed. “You’re a gift from the Six, Horgon. I’ll tell Miceral we can leave.”

“Miceral needs to stay,” Horgon said without malice. “He needs to take a more active role. This will be good practice for him. Run along. I’ll explain it to him.”

Ignoring the angry daggers Miceral shot at him, Farrell thanked the Six. Miceral must have forgotten they could speak mind to mind, or no doubt he’d be “shouting” at Farrell about the unfair situation. When he made it to the door, Prince Kerstand followed a step behind him.

“Congratulations are in order, I hear.” Smiling, he held out an arm, which Farrell clasped. “Your people talk of nothing else. They appear quite happy for you both.”

“Better happy than upset.” Farrell noted Kerstand didn’t seem eager to return to the meeting. “I’m off to weapons practice. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

“Much as I’d like to accompany you, I fear my cousin wants me here.” He looked as unhappy as Farrell had felt during the meeting.

Before his guest could return to the room, Farrell grinned at him. “If you want to come with me, I think I can arrange it. Being Lord of Haven has to have a few perks.” A conspiratorial wink later, Kerstand nodded his agreement.

Farrell stuck his head in the door and waited for the participants to notice him. “Baron Glaus, could you spare Prince Kerstand for the afternoon? I’d like to get to know him a bit better, and this is an ideal time for us to talk.”

The baron seemed more than happy to let Farrell take his cousin. “Most certainly, Lord Farrell. Spending time learning about Haven and our hosts is a good use of his time. I hope he isn’t too disappointed to be torn from these meetings.”

Everyone except Miceral laughed or smiled.

“Cheer up, Ral. I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

Farrell stifled a laugh when he saw Miceral start to answer out loud. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Closing the door behind him, he turned to his guest. “Done. You’re coming with me. Do you have practice clothes, or do I need to round some up?”

“I do, but they’re in my chambers.” Kerstand looked right, then left and shrugged. “Not that I can find them without Glaus.”

Farrell laughed. “Come on. I know a guide who can help you find your way.”

THE
DOOR opened onto the practice field, drawing the attention of Masters Thomas and Baylec.

“Nice entrance, boy. Next time don’t be late so you can arrive like everyone else,” Master Thomas said from across the field. “Oh, and congratulations on your pending nuptials. That lad of yours is a fine man. I’m happy for the both you.”

Farrell waved at the comments, pointing Kerstand to the bench area.

“That man has no respect for your position,” Kerstand said, still staring at Thomas. “No servant should yell at you like a common trainee.”

Farrell pulled his dress tunic over his head and shrugged. Grabbing the shirt he’d brought with him, he said, “Master Thomas has been with me since I was a boy. He and I have an agreement: I get to be prince everywhere else, but when I step foot in the practice area, he’s in charge. I take nothing he says during practice personally, no matter how badly he insults me.”

“You let your servants insult you?” Kerstand acted as if Farrell had said snow was green. “If my weapons master insulted my brothers or me, he’d be lucky not to be executed.”

“Then your house must retain inferior weapons masters.” They both turned to find Master Baylec standing behind Farrell, smiling. “Allow me to express my joy at your pending union. I believe I’ve come to know you well since we’ve met, and I’m pleased for you both. Miceral is as lucky to have you as you are to have him.”

He clapped Farrell on the back, sending the half-dressed prince sprawling. The hand mark on his skin made a bright red contrast to his pale skin. Baylec rushed over, only to be waved off by Farrell. The older man stood with his mouth open, carefully running his eyes over his student. “Lord Farrell, I’m truly sorry. Given how we train and your close relationship with Miceral, I forget you’re not a Muchari.”

Farrell noted Master Thomas looking his way, but he quickly smiled when Farrell gave him a small wave. Kerstand, however, appeared shocked, and even more so when Farrell laughed.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to let Miceral know you wish us well. Let me finish dressing and I’ll meet you on the far field.”

Baylec nodded and walked off as if nothing had happened.

“How can you let him get away with that? He was completely out of line.” Kerstand twisted, seeming more agitated when he met Farrell’s gaze. “You have his handprint on your back! The whole of Haven will know he touched you.”

Farrell laughed, yanking on an undershirt before pulling his leather vest over his head. “Baylec is a boyhood friend of Horgon, my soon-to-be father-in-law. He was also Miceral’s teacher and his friend. There’s no finer teacher in the Seven Kingdoms, maybe even the world. It would be a tremendous loss if I missed my chance to train under him over something so trivial.”

Kerstand didn’t look convinced as they finished dressing. Shaking his head, Farrell put his hands on his guest’s shoulders.

“Try to keep in mind this is Haven, not Honal. Haven was founded as a wizard’s school. Rank among wizards and weapons masters is similar; respect goes to the person with the greater skill. I try to remember that every time I come here. Set aside your rank while you’re here. You may find it refreshing.”

When Kerstand nodded, Farrell smiled back and grabbed his staff. “Master Baylec.” He waited until his teacher looked over. “Can you accommodate Prince Kerstand, or should I send him to Master Thomas for sword practice?”

“Start him with Master Thomas so we can get started.” He pointed toward the group working with Thomas. “After we’ve sparred a bit, he can join us, and I’ll go over sword work with you both.”

“There you have it. You’re off to Master Thomas.” He reached out for Kerstand’s arm before his friend could leave. “I would count it as a personal favor if you would be polite to him no matter what he says. He’s an old and trusted friend who has always watched over me.”

Kerstand nodded, smiling as he grabbed his sword. “Of course.”

Aware Baylec waited for him, Farrell resisted the urge to observe the initial exchange between Thomas and his new student.

“Is that the Prince of Honal we’re supposed to watch over?” Baylec asked when Farrell arrived.

“It is, Master. He didn’t want to be the heir sent to safety. I think he’s worried he won’t see his family again.” He shrugged as he let Baylec begin their preworkout stretch. “Since we’re about the same age and have similar upbringings, I figured I’d try to befriend him.”

“Good luck with him. He seems a bit formal.”

LOST
IN his training, he didn’t realize how long they’d been there until Baylec stepped back, planting his staff in the dirt.

Imitating his teacher’s actions, he bowed deeply. Baylec led him over to where Kerstand worked hard under Thomas’s watchful eye. “Are we finished already, Master Baylec?”

“Thomas, mark this date,” he said as they joined the larger group. “Prince Farrell wants to train longer.”

Thomas gave Farrell a wink. “We can arrange that.”

Barking an order, Thomas sent all but Kerstand to the sides. Bringing the two princes together, he smirked at Baylec. “Why don’t you two spar? It’s been too long since you’ve had a sword in your hand, Farrell.”

Baylec handed Farrell one of the swords he kept at the field. After swinging it a few times to remember the feel, Farrell nodded to Baylec, who accompanied him to an open space. Thomas gave Kerstand some last-minute instructions, then motioned for the two to square off.

Farrell bowed to his opponent, then lunged forward to start the exercise. As the two went back and forth, the teachers circled the pair, stopping them on three occasions. Each time, Baylec and Thomas played the roles of their students and demonstrated their good and bad techniques. Finally they stopped giving instructions and the sparring continued.

After almost ten minutes of give and take, Farrell disarmed Kerstand twice and moved him back when they called to stop. Farrell bowed, but Kerstand’s dour expression told him what his new friend thought of the training session.

Master Thomas appeared at Kerstand’s side and clasped the younger man’s shoulder in his callused hand. “Well done, lad. Quite impressive. In a couple of weeks’ time, I’ll have you trouncing this slacker.” He shoved a thumb in Farrell’s direction.

Kerstand’s face brightened. Baylec walked over, extending his arm. “Indeed, Prince Kerstand, you surprised me with your skills. A little refinement and I’m sure you two will be trading victories soon enough.”

Farrell nearly reminded them of his skill level, but he saw Kerstand’s mood improve with each compliment. “Thank you, Kerstand. It’s good to spar with someone who’s not a weapons master. Next time you’ll win a few, I’m sure. I sense Master Thomas is eager to train you for just that purpose.”

“If it motivates you to work harder,” Thomas growled, “count on it.”

Both princes smiled as they gathered their clothes. “Definitely better than a dry, boring meeting,” Kerstand said.

Farrell nodded. “Every time.”

Chapter 16

STARING AT the parchment, Farrell rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Horgon gave him a brief smile before nodding. “I’m afraid so. As prince, you can’t sneak off and get joined. All this”—he waved at the papers—“is just part of what’s involved. I’ve left the more mundane details out, figuring you don’t much care about things like the color of the invitation or which flowers will be on the altar.”

“Unbelievable.” Farrell shook his head, lifting another sheet from the stack.

“There is good news,” Horgon said.

“What? The ceremony won’t be eight hours long?” He appreciated Horgon’s efforts, but he’d never envisioned the extent of the ceremonial obligations.

“By the Six, yes.” Horgon laughed. “I promise it won’t go a minute over six hours.”

Focused on the document in his hand, Farrell didn’t pay attention to the answer. When the import of what Horgon said hit him, he looked up. “I’m not finding this funny.”

“You need to relax.” Miceral gently rubbed Farrell’s shoulders. “Everything will work out.”

He shook his head. “Work out according to whose plans?”

Horgon shifted through the papers and slid a sheet toward Farrell. “Back to the good news. We’ve worked everyone into the ceremony. As you can see from the sketch, your adopted brothers and father”—he pointed to the three peregrines’ images on the page—“and mentors each have prominent roles, though I did need to include representatives from the nations in exile to get the clerics to—”

“Wait!” He waved the paper at Horgon. “This drawing is for the Grand Temple of Honorus. We were supposed to use the small private temple to Lenore in the Yar-del portion of Haven.”

“Yeeess.” Horgon turned to his right. “The high priests and priestesses felt that would prove too small, so they switched it to the Grand Temple. It has more room for the ceremony as well as far more seating. Also, the private temple you wanted is too small to hold Rothdin and your brothers. Did you want your adopted father to come, but not Grohl and Takala?”

“All six?” Farrell looked up again, his voice an octave higher. “You have the heads of all six temples written down. When did that happen?”

The smile faded from Horgon’s face as he threw his hands up. “Farrell, like it or not, you’re the Prince of Haven. You don’t get to elope and have the first available priest join the two of you.”

“All I—we—want is a simple ceremony with our friends and family. This is turning into a union ceremony for a king of Yar-del.”

“Farrell.” Miceral rubbed his shoulders a bit harder. “We got the things that mattered most. Some things we need to concede.”

“Concede?” Now Farrell raised his voice. “‘Concede’ implies there are negotiations involved! This is our ceremony. No one else gets a say!”

“Sorry, son.” Horgon sounded tired but firm. “But the people get a say when their ruler gets joined.”

Not wanting to spend the rest of the day arguing, Farrell tossed the paper onto the table. “Since it doesn’t matter what I want, I’m going to weapons practice. At least there when I get beaten down, it’s because I didn’t defend myself.”

“SORRY, FARRELL.” Kerstand pulled the sweaty tunic over his head. The mat of light brown hair on his chest glistened from his efforts. “What you describe is exactly what I’d expect for my union ceremony.”

“Not you too.” He tossed his linen shirt over his shoulder, where it disappeared with a small pop. “It’s not that I don’t understand why it has to be this way. I just wish I could be normal.”

Laughter filled the small area they used to change. “Normal? Farrell, with no disrespect meant, you might be the least normal person in all the world. What makes you think you’d ever want to be normal?”

Feeling a bit foolish, he shrugged. “Don’t you ever wish you didn’t have to worry that your next decision could affect so many people?”

Kerstand finished wiping the sweat from his torso and sat down. “Your concept of what regular people are like is skewed. Suppose you were allowed to give away all your responsibilities as leader of Haven. What then? Would you give up being a wizard? I think not. I’ve seen how casually you do things with magic. It’s second nature to you. Normal people can’t whisk themselves from one end of the city to another with a thought.

“But even if you could give up being a wizard, do you really understand what normal people do every day? They work, and work hard. They till fields, make shoes, build fences, mine ore, sell goods, and a hundred other tasks that are full-time occupations. They have families who depend on them, much like the rest of us depend on you. So while you might give up the greater responsibility of protecting everyone else, you would still have people whom you’d want to keep safe. The only difference is, if you weren’t you, you’d be powerless to save them.”

Stunned at the depth of his friend’s comments, Farrell forgot to put on a clean shirt until he shivered in the cool air. “That was… insightful. When did you become so well-versed in the ways of regular people?”

A small smile curled the edges of Kerstand’s lips. “I’ve spent time with those not of the nobility. Their worldview is very different from ours.”

“When you put things like that, I don’t think I want to be normal after all.” Farrell waved his hand to fetch a new tunic from his closet. “Come on. I owe my soon-to-be father-in-law an apology.”

Chapter 17

FARRELL
QUIETED the churning in his stomach with three deep breaths before he opened his eyes to winter solstice—the Winter Festival. His union ceremony. Awake already, Miceral stared at him with a smile.

“Morning, handsome.” Miceral completed the greeting by bringing their lips together. “Ready to spend the rest of your life with me?”

“Depends. Do you promise to keep me that long?” Farrell kissed his partner again, then rolled on top of him.

“Someone has a lot of energy.” Miceral tossed back the sheets and carried Farrell as he climbed off their bed. “Might as well keep to our morning training schedule. Some exercise will calm you.”

“It’d better, because right now I doubt I can stand still long enough to exchange vows.”

FARRELL
CLUTCHED his knees, panting hard. Their training felt more intense than normal, which probably explained the smirk on Miceral’s face.

“Hopefully, you’re not too tired to exchange vows.”

Sticking out his tongue, Farrell shook his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, old man.”

Before Miceral could respond, a loud knock filled the room.

“Who could that be?”

Farrell shrugged, heading toward the exit. “Don’t know. I didn’t invite anyone.”

Miceral tossed him a towel. “You’re the wizard, can’t you….” He waved his hand with a laugh. Ignoring the sarcasm, Farrell wiped his face and found a shirt before heading to the door. As he got closer, a second knock rang out.

“Hold on!” he said. “Don’t people know this is a big apartment?” Trying not to be annoyed, he opened the door.

“Kerstand.” He stepped back to let his friend pass. “The ceremony’s after lunch.”

“It’s Kerstand, and he’s dressed already.”

“Let me get my shirt and I’ll join you.”

“I know,” Kerstand said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay. What did you need?” He smiled, leading their friend through their private rooms. “Excuse the mess. I didn’t have a chance to set things back.”

Farrell waved his hand in a circle twice and snapped it forward. The thick, spongy black rug rolled up, lifted off the ground, and vanished. Next the furniture slid back into place.

“That’s a handy trick,” Kerstand said absently.

“It saves us from asking Erstad to expand our apartment again,” Miceral said, coming from their bedroom. “I don’t need another lecture on how much space we already have.”

“Can’t you do it?” Kerstand turned toward Farrell. “I mean, you’re a grand master wizard. Why can’t you do what he does?”

“I can do it. The question is, can I do it as well.” He retrieved a pitcher of water by the door and offered his guest a cup. “It’s like painting a picture. Most of us can do it, but only those who have the talent and who practice are good at it. When Erstad makes new rooms, the walls are straight, the floors are even, and the dimensions are proper. Mine?” He shrugged, handing Kerstand a drink.

“So why all dressed up at this early hour?” Miceral motioned their friend toward a chair.

Looking uncomfortable, Kerstand nodded to himself before he spoke. “I need some advice about a girl.”

Farrell turned to Miceral, and the two burst out laughing. “Kerstand, you’re a good friend, but you need a better source of information on girls than Miceral and I.”

Kerstand rolled his eyes but still laughed. Seeming more relaxed, he shook his head. “I don’t need advice on what girls are like. I have enough experience to know men have no idea what woman think. It has to do with her being a commoner.”

Farrell smirked. “Now I see where your information came from.”

Flushed, Kerstand nodded. “The issue is she claims she has nothing to wear suitable to be in ‘a prince’s presence,’ and when I offered to buy her something, she refused, saying she didn’t want my charity.”

“That’s hard,” Miceral said. “Maybe she’s using her lack of clothing as an excuse so she doesn’t have to say no and hurt your feelings.”

Kerstand’s shoulders slumped. “You’re probably right. This is a mistake.”

“Blessed Serita, Kers, you give up too easily.” Farrell stood up, shaking his head. “Wait here.”

He went into his closet and searched without success. Frowning, he tried to recall where he put what he was looking for. “Stupid.”

Arms out, he “saw” the image of what he wanted and intoned a fetching spell. Smiling, he returned to their sitting room carrying a long, shallow wooden box.

“This was my… my master had me make this for Queen Zenora. She despised formal occasions almost as much as finding suitable clothing. For reasons I’m still not clear on, Heminaltose had me make a dress for her as a lesson in nondefined magic.” Opening the box, he showed them a bit of white cloth. He quickly shut the top. “The dress has no set size or style. All one needs to do is think of the dress you want, and this will become whatever is desired.”

Thrusting the container toward his friend, he nodded. Kerstand slowly opened the lid, letting out a low gasp. Smiling to Miceral, Farrell let his friend take the box.

“I imprinted a dress the tailor showed Lisle but she didn’t select.” Farrell paused as Kerstand held up a simple but elegant pale blue gown with white lace. “There are matching shoes in the box. Once she touches it, the dress and shoes will automatically adjust to her size. Explain the dress to her, and tell her I’m loaning it to you for the festival. That way you didn’t buy it and it’s not charity.”

Kerstand folded the dress, carefully laid it back inside, and shut the top. “Thank you. Not sure she’ll say yes, but she’ll have one less excuse for turning me down.”

DESPITE
THEIR suggestion that Lisle take the day off, she arrived for work just after Kerstand left.

Even with the ceremony several hours away, Farrell and Miceral began to get ready. Lisle set out their clothes, then left while they washed up.

Farrell went to the bath chamber and filled the tub. Before getting in, he dug out his old shaving kit from the back of the closet. Normally he used magic to remove the stubble, but today he wanted to get ready the “normal” way.

Miceral entered just as he stepped in the tub. Immediately his attention went to the razor and soap on the counter. “That’s a switch. Any reason you’re going to risk cutting your throat like the rest of us instead of doing it the easy way?”

“Today I want to be just a regular person, not a grand master wizard.”

Miceral opened, then closed his mouth. Picking up a cloth, he moved over to the tub. “You don’t have to do this for me. I love you exactly as you are.” Gently rubbing the soapy cloth over Farrell’s back, Miceral won a sigh of enjoyment for his efforts.

“This is about me today, not that I was worried you’d disapprove. With time, I worry I’m losing my ability to relate to people who can’t do most everything they want with a wave of the hand. On this day, I don’t want to be more than anyone else. Besides, if I truly mess it up, I can fix it with a wave of my hand.” This last point he brought home by waving his hand in front of his face. “Gods of Nendor, Ral, that feels so good. Promise me when we’re joined you’ll keep doing it.”

“Are you kidding?” Miceral sat back, looking exaggeratedly shocked. “Once I have you lulled into saying ‘I do,’ I’m going to show my true colors. No more back rubs, no more hugs and kisses. None of it. I hate that stuff. That was only to trick you into joining with me.”

Rolling his eyes, Farrell splashed water at his partner.

“Hey!” Miceral sat back, taking the washcloth off Farrell’s back. “Don’t start splashing me. If I jump in, we might not make our ceremony.”

Wicked thoughts flashed through Farrell’s mind. It might be worth being late. It wasn’t as though anyone could start without them. Before he could suggest they have a bit of fun, Miceral rinsed the soap off Farrell’s back and stood up. Mildly disappointed, Farrell knew he needed to be good. He dunked his head to get his hair wet, washed it, then dunked it again.

“Done.” He quickly emptied the tub, refilled it with clean water, and dried off.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he eyed the shaving brush and razor. He struggled to work up a lather. Frustrated, he glared at the soap, ready to banish it to Neblor with a thought. Miceral came up behind him and took the brush from his hand. Without a word, he added a bit more water to the soap cup, twirled the brush around, and gave it back to Farrell with a kiss on the cheek.

Building on Miceral’s efforts, he soon had enough lather to shave. The brush tickled his face more than he remembered. Determined to see it through, he eyed the razor suspiciously. Gingerly, he pulled the blade across the stubble. It ended up being a slow, deliberate process, but he managed to finish without cutting himself. Satisfied, he moved to Miceral’s side to wash his back as a thank-you.

When they finished, Farrell walked into his closet and emerged with a long rectangular wooden box. He laid it on the bed, pushed back the lid, and revealed several crowns, ranging from plain gold to ornate and jewel-encrusted. “I suppose I ought to wear one today.” He looked to Miceral for confirmation. “Unless you think it is too presumptuous.”

“I wondered if you were going to show any sign of rank. I think you should wear the crown. Father has a small circlet he wears on formal occasions, as do I. If you wear one, I’ll find mine.”

Farrell selected the simplest circlet and laid it on his pillow before he put the box away. Miceral disappeared into his closet. He emerged with a small cloth bag. Unceremoniously, he dumped his crown on the pillow next to Farrell’s.

Yar-del’s simple, everyday crown consisted of a band of gold that grew wider toward the front. Inlaid around the inside band, Kel had etched a spell for his heirs. Spoken in order, the words granted the wearer a bond to the lands of Yar-del. Once engaged, the spell endowed the ruler with the ability to know anything and everything that happened within the borders of the kingdom. With no kingdom left, Farrell had never invoked the words.

“This one wasn’t used often by my mother or grandfather.” He held it up for Miceral to see. “And because it’s so plain, no one will recognize it and mark me as a child of the House of Kel.”

Miceral’s crown seemed simple until Farrell looked closer. Running his fingers over the circlet, Farrell thought it felt like unicorn horns covered in gold.

“They’re not real horns.” Miceral’s voice drew Farrell’s focus from the crown. “When a unicorn dies, their horn returns to Lenore, carrying the unicorn’s soul. Klissmor honored me by allowing a cast to be made of his horn for my crown.”

Picking up Miceral’s crown, Farrell placed it gently on his soon-to-be life partner’s head. “You look amazing.”

Blond hair and gold crown blended almost seamlessly, creating a halo effect around Miceral’s head. When he smiled, Miceral stole Farrell’s breath. A heartbeat later, his old insecurities rushed back. How could anyone that stunning see any worth in him? He felt plain, skinny, and unremarkable, nothing like the man before him.

Lost in his thoughts, Farrell didn’t see Miceral move until he returned, Farrell’s crown in hand. “Since we’re crowning each other, it’s my turn.”

Farrell felt the heavy metal band rest on his head. The velvet lining cushioned the weight, making it somewhat tolerable. Miceral bowed, then sank to his knee.

“My handsome prince.” Miceral looked up at him. Farrell stared into the deep blue eyes, his fear melting way. “Unworthy as I am to be your life partner, I will strive every day to make you happy. You saved me from certain death, but more importantly, you cured my lonely heart. Never doubt you are worthy of my heart, for it will never belong to anyone else.”

Tears formed at the edges of Farrell’s eyes as he swallowed twice to keep from crying. Unable to speak, he pulled Miceral to his feet. Despite wanting to say so much, he buried his face against Miceral’s neck. “I love you, Miceral.”

He barely whispered the words, but he knew Miceral heard them. “I love you too.”

Farrell held tight, unwilling to let go just yet. Before their ceremony, he had something he needed to do—something unsettling. When he could avoid it no more, he released Miceral and summoned two thick cloaks and two pairs of gloves.

“Why are we going to Erstad’s quarters first?” Miceral asked. “Why don’t we just go directly to the temple?”

Farrell touched an empty space on the wall opposite their bed. A Door opened, leading to a vacant corridor. “It’s what we’ve done every Winter and Summer Festival. Not sure it’s a good idea to break with tradition.”

As Farrell planned, they exited just outside Erstad’s chambers, putting to rest any question that they’d skip meeting the others. Erstad greeted them wearing the white wizard’s robe Farrell had made for the occasion. Thin lines of silver thread made it sparkle when the light hit it just right.

“You two look smart.” Erstad stepped back, letting his guests enter. Horgon and Lisle talked quietly in the next room. “And thank you both for this magnificent robe. All the silver makes it a bit heavy, but nothing the right spell didn’t fix.”

Lisle, dressed in a pale blue dress adorned with tiny jewels and gold threads, looked nothing like the stern, iron-fisted housekeeper who had terrorized Farrell for years. It cost Farrell more than he’d paid her in five years, and he had to pull rank to have the most sought-after tailor in Haven make the dress in time. The tiara borrowed from Yar-del’s treasury completed her outfit and made sure his sponsor would look every bit the queen mother she stood in for.

“Worth every copper we paid,” Farrell whispered to Miceral. Unable to hold it back, he broke into a huge smile as they made their way to Horgon and Lisle. “You look amazing.”

The compliment prompted Lisle to turn a deep red. Staring at Farrell, she rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, child, I won’t be around forever to make sure you’re presentable in public.” She moved his crown a fraction of an inch to the left, shaking her head. “You would think a simple thing like putting this on right would be something you could manage without my help.”

Farrell didn’t even try to be contrite. He just kept smiling. Miceral quickly adjusted his crown, prompting the others to laugh.

Coming from behind, Erstad put a hand on their backs. “We can leave when Wesfazial and Cylinda arrive.”

Farrell’s good mood vanished as quickly as his smile. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you want to go this year?” Lisle rubbed Farrell’s hand. “I’m sure they’ll understand if you don’t want to ruin your day.”

The silence of the room weighed on Farrell. He knew he could call it off with a word and that they all hoped he would. But despite how much it hurt, he needed to go.

“Even though it spoils my mood, I won’t skip it. I need to speak to them. If anyone doesn’t want to come, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

No one spoke, and Farrell thanked the Six for the rap on the door that broke the silence. He overheard hushed voices as Erstad spoke to the newcomers. When Miceral squeezed his hand, he managed a smile. Facing his past wouldn’t be easy, but with Miceral’s support, Farrell felt stronger than before.

A big hand gripped his shoulder. “Ready, lad?” Wesfazial’s booming voice seemed softer, somber even. “Let’s go pay our respects.”

Erstad touched a blank space on the wall, and Farrell felt him activate a permanent Door. Farrell adjusted his cloak and slipped on his gloves as the snowy mountainside shimmered into focus. Without looking back, he walked outside.

The small plateau, perched a thousand feet above the Plains of Gharaha, stood barren but for the snow and three stone markers. Farrell had chosen this place to honor his mother and mentors because it could be reached only with the help of magic. Positioned at the far northern tip, the low headstones stood a solitary watch over the plains below.

Farrell knelt before the first marker, a wave of sorrow crashing over him. Pushing the tears aside, he sniffed, struggling to keep his voice from cracking.

“Hello, Mother. It’s me, Halloran. I know I don’t come up here often enough, but it’s painful visiting, knowing I failed you. Another Winter Festival, the tenth one since you died. I still miss you. There have been times when I dreamt you were still alive and your death was just a bad dream. Then I wake up and realize it was no dream. You’re gone, and I’m to blame.

“Things are better now, Mother. I met someone special, someone who I know you’d like. His name is Miceral. I wish you could meet him. He’s kind, caring, thoughtful, and all he wants from me is to love him as much as he loves me.

“It makes me sad that he can’t meet you. He’ll never see the beautiful person you were and how you taught me what it meant to be a ruler.” Farrell’s sinuses clogged up and his face tingled. Sniffing again, he used the edge of his cloak to prevent the tears from ruining his silk tunic. Swallowing loudly, he wiped his eyes before he could continue. “You were the most special person in the world to me, and I never told you. Now that I want to tell you, I can’t.”

The words came out as a long sob, but Farrell prayed the Six let her hear him.

“It will be hard walking to the altar without you. You were supposed to be here to share today with me. I’m going to try to be happy. I know you’d want that. It’s easy to be happy around Miceral. He makes me smile and laugh all the time.”

He looked to his left, and a brief smile touched his lips. Gathering his strength, he continued, “Today, when I join my life to his, I’m going to remember how much you loved me and how happy I know you’d be if you were here. I pray to Honorus that you’re somewhere happy. You deserve that much at least.

“I love you, Mother.” Unable to hold back, he buried his face against his partner’s chest. Miceral’s strong arms gathered Farrell tight, allowing him to sob out his grief. “I miss her so much. Today it hurts worse than ever.”

“I know, but you told her, and somehow I feel she heard you.” Miceral held Farrell until he finally gained control. He put a hand under Farrell’s chin and pushed it up. Kissing him gently, he said, “I know she meant a lot to you, and we won’t forget her. Together we’ll honor her memory every year. Every Winter Festival we’ll tell her what happened in our lives.”

Farrell smiled, wiping the tears from his face. “I love you. You always have the words to help.”

Moving to his right, he knelt beside the markers for Heminaltose and Sanduval. “What more can I say that I haven’t told you over the years? Today, I came to say thank you. Not only for helping make me the wizard I am, but also the man I’ve become. I want you to know I’ve almost completed your work. Next time, I won’t fail.”

Before standing, Farrell said a silent prayer to Honorus and the other gods. Drained from the experience, he took Miceral’s hand. “We should go. It wouldn’t be right to be late for our ceremony.”

Chapter 18

OVER
THE centuries, Winter Festival and Summer Festival became the days for couples to be joined. Well-to-do families scheduled private ceremonies. Everyone else had to attend a group session at one of the temples. Having the high priest or priestess of a temple preside over a union ceremony required a large donation to the temple coffers.

Farrell’s union ceremony upended all the rules, a fact he wished he could change. Because of his pending union, none of the high prelates were available for private ceremonies.

“Is it really necessary to have all the high priests and priestesses attend our ceremony?” From the daggers Glendora shot him, Farrell knew the answer. He looked around the small room but found no place to hide.

“I’m not sure what possessed you to ‘inform’ Teclelion and Verona they were not needed.” Her expression grew harder. “As High Priest of Honorus, Teclelion is required to attend. The same for Verona. Miceral is a devotee of Lenore. How could Her High Priestess not be there?”

“Priestess, forgive the boy.” Wesfazial’s smirk only made Farrell’s ears grow warmer. “Those in love rarely think with their heads.”

“To answer the rest of your question, once Teclelion and Verona announced they would be in attendance, the other four temples asked to be included.” From her tone, Farrell knew she didn’t want them there, so why did she lecture him?

“But they’re clear you’re the one who’ll join us.” Farrell had ended the bickering among the temples by telling them he and Miceral had selected Glendora to perform the ceremony.

“They are, though they were not happy.” She seemed on the verge of smiling, but it never appeared.

Miceral wrapped his arms around Farrell from behind. “We knew if we chose the head of any one temple, the other five would feel slighted.”

“Child, I’m old enough to know why you selected me and young enough to be flattered by the request.”

Before either could answer, the wooden door to the small room Teclelion had “loaned” them opened to admit Horgon.

“Most of your guests have arrived.” He shook his head. “There have already been three arguments over who outranked who and thus deserved closer seating.”

Farrell had to count down from ten to keep from going out and turning the lot of them into toads. “I thought we agreed there would be no assigned seating other than the three front rows reserved for our real friends.”

“We did, and that’s what started the ruckus.” Horgon chuckled. “When your friends took their seats, other, more self-important guests began to complain. Evidently they had worked out a system where rank still prevailed. It took several angry looks from Takala and Grohl to restore order. No one confronts a mad peregrine willingly.”

Turning to Glendora, Farrell spread his arms out in front of him. “Please let me turn them into donkeys. If they’re going to act this ill-mannered, they should be treated that way.”

Glendora laughed so hard, Farrell thought she’d pass out. “Sorry, but you looked so earnest when you asked. But, no, you can’t turn them into anything, especially not in Honorus’s temple.”

“Besides,” Miceral added, “you’ll end up insulting donkeys if you do, and they don’t deserve that.”

Farrell began to pace around the small room. “We should have gotten joined in secret.”

After his third circle, Miceral wrapped an arm around Farrell, forcing him to stop. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“Unfortunately, young prince, your ceremony belongs to all of Haven,” Glendora said in a firm but motherly tone. “For good or ill, you are Lord of Haven. Your people need to feel a part of this union.”

A knock preceded a young cleric of Honorus slowly opening the door. “Reverend Mother?”

Glendora rolled her eyes at Farrell before she turned around. “Yes, child?”

The priest never fully entered the room, staying with his hand on the door handle. “The Most Holy Father sent me to say we’re ready to begin.”

“Excellent.” She pointed to everyone but the life partners-to-be. “You may tell Father Teclelion I’ll be out momentarily. I just need to send the participants to their places.”

The others quietly followed the priest to the main temple. When just Horgon, Lisle, and Glendora remained with the soon-to-be-joined couple, the priestess smiled warmly and left with a nod.

“Enjoy your day.” Horgon grabbed each by the shoulder. “I’m proud of you both.”

Lisle fussed with Farrell’s tunic and crown. “There. Now you’re presentable.”

He smiled, feeling more relaxed than a moment ago. “Thank you.”

She gave him a wink. “Can’t have my charge looking less than perfect. The old biddies would never let me hear the end of it.”

Lisle left the two alone for the few minutes before the ceremony started. With a grin and a twinkle in his eye, Miceral asked. “Ready?”

“For what will come, not a chance; to leap into the unknown with you by my side, without a doubt.” He squeezed his partner’s hand, and they set out for their walk down the long central aisle, fingers still laced together.

Everyone stood once Miceral and Farrell entered the temple proper. Glendora waited in front of the altar, the six temple heads behind her. Somewhere along the way, she had put on a beautifully embroidered green robe that reminded Farrell of new spring grass. The embroidery depicted scenes of the earth, both plants and animals—things dear to Lenore.

“Slow down.” Miceral’s voice almost caused him to flinch. “This isn’t a race.”

“It ought to be. I have plans for after the ceremony.” Farrell smiled at his partner and managed a small wink.

Slowly, they made their way to the open space between the pews and the altar. Takala and Nerti waited to the right, while Grohl and Klissmor waited on Miceral’s side. Rothdin, beaming like a proud parent, stood behind Takala, nodding when Farrell looked in his direction.

A few paces beyond their nonhuman family and friends, Lisle and Horgon stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the audience. Just before Farrell and Miceral reached their sponsors, the older pair stepped to the side and turned toward the altar.

Glendora moved to the bottom step and motioned for everyone to be seated. “Welcome, friends and loved ones. And today everyone in Haven is a friend of these two fine young men. We’re here for the joyous occasion of the union of Miceral and Farrell. This ceremony is about two becoming one.” She held her hands wide, and the priests and priestesses moved to her side. “In this union we seek the blessings of the Six.”

The seven clerics joined hands and recited the traditional blessing together. “We, your humble servants, seek your blessing for this union today. Grant them a long and happy life together.”

The six temple heads stepped back, leaving Glendora to perform the rites of union.

“Who sponsors these two?” Glendora asked.

Horgon and Lisle stepped forward. “We do.”

“Who stands with Miceral?”

“I, Horgon, father of Miceral, stand with him.” His booming voice filled the temple.

“Who stands with Farrell?”

“I, Lisle, friend of Farrell, stand with him.” Her voice dared someone to object.

Glendora smiled at the four. “Do you both stand with them of your own free will?”

“We do,” Horgon and Lisle said together.

“Before today, have you been a part of their lives? Have you seen them together as a couple?”

“We have.”

“Do they each love as two who seek to be joined should?”

“They do.”

“Do you believe they are right for each other?”

“They are.”

“Do you believe they should join their lives together?”

“They should.”

“Will you do all you can to help them as they set off as one?”

“We will.”

Lisle and Horgon returned to their places a step behind Miceral and Farrell.

“Are there any other family or friends who are here to stand with and support our couple?’

Farrell’s adopted brothers and father as well as Nerti and Klissmor moved a pace closer.

“There are.” The nonhuman voices were projected for all to hear.

“And you, their family and closest friends, do you agree with the sponsors that Miceral and Farrell love each other and should join their lives together?”

“We do.”

“Will you support them as they set forth on this journey? Will you be there for them in good and bad times, in happiness and sorrow, offering them any help they’ll need along the way?”

“We will.”

Glendora paused and looked at the pair, a twinkle in her eyes. “Those closest to you agree; you should be joined this day. Do you agree this is what you want?”

Farrell turned toward Miceral and saw his smile reflected back in his partner’s face. “I do.”

“There is no mystery, no special words which join one person to another. Joining is something couples decide together, so it is fitting that it is their words that join them. Have you two decided who will go first?”

Farrell turned back to Glendora. “I will.”

Facing Miceral, he took his partner’s hand. “Miceral, it is my desire to spend my life with you. This is not a decision I have made lightly or without thought.

“You are everything I had hoped for in a partner. You’re kind and loving. You hold me when I’m sad and laugh with me when I’m happy. You’ve seen the flaws in my soul, and still you stand by me, offering your love and help instead of walking away to find someone else. When I look in your eyes, I see the same love in them I feel for you.

“I can’t promise it will be easy being my partner. There are things that lie ahead that will make it hard for us both. That you still love me, knowing my destiny, has been a source of strength I’ve never known before. When we’re together, I feel there is nothing that’s too difficult.

“I’m not perfect, and I know I will fail you, though never will I do so willingly. I promise to love you with all my heart and always be there for you. Every day I’ll try to be better than the day before and to never let anything or anyone come between us.

“Miceral, if you will have me, I want to join with you today and be together the rest of our lives.”

Miceral appeared teary-eyed but kept his smile. “Farrell, I knew the day we met you were the one I had waited for my whole life. From that moment, I knew we would one day be joined.

“In you I found my true soul mate. When I look in your eyes, I see you love me so clearly it makes my heart beat faster. You’re kind and gentle, yet strong and resilient. It humbles me to know you are capable of loving me in ways I cannot hope to match.

“I too can’t promise it will be easy being with me. There will be times I’ll fail as well. But I promise if I do, it’s not because I want to hurt you. I ask that you be patient with me and help me be a better partner every day.

“What I pledge today is that you will always have my heart and my love. I’ll support you in all that you must do, willingly and gladly. Without hesitation I will face death with you so long as we face it together. To do otherwise would be to turn my back on the most amazing person I ever met.

“I love you, Farrell, with all that I am. I want to join my life to yours if you will have me as your life partner.”

Farrell let go of Miceral’s left hand so the pair could face the altar. Glendora’s smile never waned.

“Friends and family, I am a simple priestess of a great goddess. I have no words to match the heartfelt vows these two have spoken to each other. I can offer only words of guidance and prayer for them on their path.

“Farrell, Miceral, today you embark on a journey whose path you will not know until you have traveled it together. By your words, you profess your desire to take this walk together, and that is as it should be for two people so in love as you are. Not even the gods and goddesses know what is truly in store for you both. What your life will be like together is in your hands. It will be what you make it, so make it wonderful.

“Together you’ve shown yourselves capable of great love and understanding. That’s good, because a lifetime together requires all you’ve shown thus far and much more. Anyone who tells you it will be easy is being untrue. But a life shared, despite the rough patches, is far better than a life shorn of love. Together your lives will be richer than you can imagine today. If you let your love grow, together you will overcome problems that alone would defeat you.

“Honor each other; respect each other; love each other. If you do these things, the path to happiness will be clear.” With a smile that had grown throughout the ceremony, Glendora motioned for the other clerics to join her. The seven formed a circle around the pair. “We who are honored to serve our gods have no power to join your hearts. Only you can do that. But together we acknowledge your commitment before all the gods of Nendor and sanction your commitment for all to see.”

“In Lenore’s name, I join you, Farrell, to Miceral and you, Miceral, to Farrell.”

A screech and a whinny filled the temple. Hovering above Farrell, the white eagle of Honorus and the white-winged unicorn of Lenore filled the cavernous room with their light. Farrell quickly dropped to his knees and bowed his head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Miceral do the same. Impossibly, the space between the clerics and Farrell and Miceral expanded to allow both avatars to land and stand before the still-kneeling pair.

“Rise up, favored sons,” the voices said together. When they stood, they kept their hands entwined as the avatars addressed them. “This union We decreed long ago, though you knew it not. Where once you were alone and servant to just one, now you are one in Our eyes and servants to Us both. Accept Our blessings this day and know you are favored in Our eyes. This union and your love for each other is Our gift to you both for the services you have and will do in Our names. Go forth in love for each other and with Our love.”

As quickly as they appeared, the ethereal creatures disappeared. With no flash, no pop, they just vanished. Farrell noted the shocked expressions on everyone, including Teclelion and Verona.

“I take it this doesn’t happen at everyone’s union ceremony?” Miceral asked Farrell, who shrugged.

“No, child, it does not.” Glendora smiled at them. “It was Their gift to you both.”

Standing, Glendora turned to the stunned gallery. “Friends, what more proof do we need that these two people were meant to be joined? Let us wish our newlyjoined all life’s happiness before we begin the Winter Festival celebrations.”

Their friends began to come forward when Farrell felt his father and brothers take to the air. A deafening screech filled the temple, forcing Farrell to look up. Many of their guests had started toward the exit.

“It is still proper for the new couple to take their leave before those invited to join in their day!” Rothdin’s booming voice in Farrell’s mind almost made him wince. “Keep your places, or my sons and I will help you!”

Grohl and Takala landed in front of the massive doors, glowering at anyone still in the aisle. Those ill-mannered enough to break protocol quickly returned to their seats.

“Thank you, Father,” Farrell said when Rothdin landed. The giant peregrine moved quickly to wrap his Farrell and Miceral in his wings.

“Son of mine and his mate. I wish you endless skies in your journey together.”

Teclelion cleared his throat politely, standing at the head of the other clerics. “My lords? If you would permit me, I would lead you to the exit so you may begin your life together.”

Farrell bowed to the high priest, aware that few, if any, received such treatment. “You honor us, Holy Father.”

The older man gave him a wink before inclining his head slightly.

Standing at the exit beside Miceral, Farrell accepted the hurried well-wishes of his guests. Most rushed to leave so they could regale others with what had just occurred. In short order, only friends and family remained.

Miceral gave Farrell a serious stare. “I believe you’re stuck with me for the rest of our considerable lives.”

Farrell beamed at his partner. “Awful as that sounds, I think I can manage.”

EARLY
IN the planning stage, Horgon had recognized that most of Haven would want to attend the Winter Festival celebration Farrell normally attended. To prevent mass overcrowding, everyone agreed the couple would make an appearance at the six main festivals—one for each displaced nation—during the course of the night.

“I hate spending our night stomping from place to place,” Miceral said as they reached Haven’s Great Hall.

Taking his partner’s hand, Farrell pushed open the door, setting off a roaring welcome. “Being concubine to the Lord of Haven comes with its demands. One of which is that the people need to see whom the Lord is joined to.”

“Concubine, is it? Perhaps you’d like to spend your celebration sleeping on the couch.”

Farrell leaned in and kissed Miceral. This set off a new round of cheers. “Only if you join me.”

It took the pair several minutes to wade through the throng of well-wishers. When they reached the central meeting area, Farrell scowled as he scanned the stage.

“Didn’t Horgon tell the organizers we wanted all newlyjoineds to meet us here?”

Miceral’s smile faded when he looked around. “I heard him dictate the request.”

Searching for the festival organizer, Farrell readied a seeking spell when he noticed the official at the head of a large group of confused couples.

“Guess that answers that,” Miceral whispered in his ear.

After an obligatory first dance with the other couples, Miceral led Farrell toward a long table set aside for them. Swimming through the sea of well-wishers, Farrell let out a sigh of relief when they reached the far corner of the hall.

“Farrell?” He turned when he heard his name, scanning the crowd for the speaker.

Miceral pointed to their left just as Ostert and Lillian made their way through the throng.

“Congratulations on entering the ranks of the joined.” Ostert clapped Miceral on the back while Farrell gave Lillian a hug. Reaching for Ostert’s hand, Farrell stepped back.

“A dress tunic and no sword?” Farrell smirked. “You even wore your uniform when we came to dinner. I didn’t know you owned anything else.”

Lillian rolled her eyes and shook her head. “If you only knew the effort it took to get him to wear this today.”

Miceral reached out to hug her. “You only have yourself to blame for the monster you created.”

She nodded. “I know. You remind me every time I complain. If I hadn’t let him wear the uniform to our union ceremony, he wouldn’t think it’s acceptable everywhere.”

“At the risk of upsetting you”—Farrell pulled out a chair for Lillian—“I think he looks rather handsome in the uniform.”

“Thank you.” Ostert gave his wife an exaggerated nod. “But I still don’t find you attractive, Farrell.”

Farrell laughed, remembering their conversation when they first met. “That’s a good thing, since you’re about to become a father soon. I would hate to have your lovely wife vexed at me.”

“Hey.” Miceral poked him on the upper arm. “You should be concerned about your new life partner. Telling other men you think they’re handsome on our union day is not the best idea.”

Realizing the mistake he’d made, Farrell couldn’t think of a good comeback. He must have looked as confused as he felt because Miceral pulled him closer for a long kiss.

“Do that some more and I won’t even notice other men exist.” Farrell leaned in for another kiss before he let Miceral step back.

“Were we that bad?” Ostert asked his wife.

“We? No, we weren’t, but you were worse.” She smiled at him.

“Me?”

“Oh yes.” Farrell pointed at his friend. “For days after the ceremony, you wore a smile as wide as your face.”

“So how’s the baby?” Miceral asked.

Ostert’s face broke into a grin. “The healers say he’s doing great.”

Farrell turned to Lillian. “He? I thought you said you didn’t want to know the sex.”

She let out her breath and turned to her husband. “I didn’t, but I agreed to find out if he agreed to dress properly for today.”

Miceral laughed. “I think she played you.”

Turning from his wife to Miceral, Ostert looked deflated. “Really?”

Putting an arm around his friend, Miceral shook his head. “If she really didn’t want to know, do you think she would have bargained just to get you in a tunic? She obviously didn’t mind finding out but used it to get you do something she knew you’d resist.”

“Miceral!” Lillian’s eyes narrowed as she fixed her stare on him. “You’re not supposed to tell him my secrets.”

Gently taking her hand in his, Miceral brought it to his lips for a brief kiss. “My apologies, Lillian. Ostert is like a younger brother to me. Someone has to teach him what to expect.”

In the process of taking a sip of wine, Farrell choked and sprayed the red liquid all over the table. When he recovered, he waved his hand to clean up the mess. “You’re teaching him the ways of women? Where did you come by this knowledge?”

Turning Ostert away from Farrell, Miceral glared at his partner for a moment. “Don’t mind him. Just remember to ask me next time.”

Before Ostert could answer, a small group of well-dressed festivalgoers descended on their table, offering their congratulations. Soon the small group became a crowd, and Farrell lost sight of his friends. He did his best not to show his annoyance at the newcomers for chasing his real friends away. Another reason he wished they had joined in secret.

Knowing they had five more celebrations to attend, the pair danced with the other newlyjoineds, ate sparingly, tried to make the rounds to meet as many people as they could, then moved on to the next festivity.

At every festival site, Miceral and Farrell met the other couples celebrating their union ceremonies. The energy and excitement from the other just-joined couples proved contagious, and Farrell found himself having more fun than he’d expected.

They returned to the festival in the Great Hall for a brief appearance to say good night to their friends and family. Before they left, the crowd coerced them into one more round of dancing.

“I could cast an illusion that looked like the two of us dancing, and we could sneak off.” Farrell raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“What happened to the lord showing off his concubine, duty as lord, and all that other nonsense you told me?” Miceral stared down his nose at Farrell.

“That was earlier. Now I want you all to myself.”

“We have a lifetime for that.” Miceral scooped him up, moving farther onto the dance floor. “Tonight we celebrate the one and only night we were joined.”

Farrell stuck out his tongue. “Fine, but when I fall asleep on you, remember who kept who out late.”

They danced another ten minutes, then said their good-byes. Farrell did his best not to rush through the hall, despite the surprise he had waiting for Miceral in their suite.

When they finally made it outside the Great Hall, Miceral stopped and pulled Farrell toward him. “I haven’t had the chance to say this much since we were joined. I love you.” He kissed Farrell deeply in the middle of the hall before they walked back to their chambers.

“I hope you’re ready for one last surprise.” Farrell couldn’t suppress the grin he tried to hold back.

“Surprise?” Miceral gave him a quizzical look. “When did you have time to arrange a surprise?”

“I have my ways, you know.” He waved his hand in the air, creating a ball of blue light that winked out a second later.

Miceral shook his head, feigning a frown. “So I’ve been told.”

“Well, since you don’t care, I’ll just cancel the week away I planned for us.”

“Wait.” Miceral pulled them to a stop. “You arranged a trip? For us? Away from Haven?”

“Um, yeah, that’s what a week away means.” He rolled his eyes. “Most couples take a trip somewhere after their nuptials, to be alone. Horgon agreed to run everything while we’re gone, and Nerti can get in touch with me if needed.”

A snort erupted from Miceral. “What have you done that you’re so blasted pleased with yourself?”

“Remember that day when you asked me what was to the west of the mountains?” When Miceral nodded, he continued. “I arranged a trip to Belsport. Booked us a suite at the finest inn in the city. And we’ll be going as simple travelers, so no formal state visit, no diplomatic mission, no meetings, nothing. Just time for us to spend together doing whatever we want.”

Miceral stood with a silly look on his face. “Are you ever going to stop doing nice things for me so I can catch up?”

“Nope, never.” Farrell laughed, excited that his partner looked happy. “Not as long as we are together. Besides, after all the things you’ve done for me, I’m way behind, if we were keeping score, of course.”

Miceral smiled, remaining silent while they continued on their way. When they reached their apartment, Miceral placed a hand on Farrell’s chest, forcing him to stop. Miceral scooped him up and held Farrell in one arm while he opened the door with the other.

“Just making sure you end up where I want you tonight.” Miceral flashed him a wicked grin.

“As if you needed to drag me anywhere with you.” With a flick of his wrist, Farrell shut the door, adding a sealing spell for good measure. Tomorrow morning he wanted to be sure no one walked in unannounced.

Chapter 19

FARRELL’S
BODY shook, jerking him awake. Miceral rolled onto his back, yawning in the process.

“You really ought to find a better spell to wake us when someone knocks.” Miceral stretched his arms over his head. “That one makes you jump so much you’re going to fall out of bed someday.”

Farrell’s eyes focused on Miceral’s groin. “That may be, but you should be glad I sealed the door.” He smirked as Miceral followed his stare.

“Are you going to tell me you’re not in the same state?”

Tossing back the sheet, Farrell jumped off the bed. “You have eyes. Clearly I’m in no better condition than you.”

A loud knock filled the room as Farrell searched for a pair of pants. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and snapped his right hand out. Stepping into the blue pants he summoned, he located his tunic. “How did our clothes get so scattered?”

Shaking his head, Miceral sat back against the pillows. “I believe a certain Lord of Haven began tossing our clothing about in his haste to consummate his union.”

“No,” Farrell said, pulling the tan shirt over his head. “It was the lord’s concubine who couldn’t get undressed fast enough.”

“Just go get the door while I get dressed.” Miceral tossed a pillow at him. Flicking his wrist, Farrell sent the pillow back, hitting Miceral in the face.

“I live to serve.” He followed the playful bow by quickly leaving the room. Padding his way barefoot to the door, he released the spell that had hidden their luggage from Miceral.

Lisle stood waiting impatiently when he opened the door. She seemed genuinely surprised. “What’s come over you, child? Normally you stay in bed as long as you can.”

“Nice to see you too, Lisle.” He smiled. Even though everything had changed, nothing had changed. He stepped back to allow her to enter. “We didn’t expect you today given how late the festival went. Thought you might take the day off.”

“Why in the world would you think I would take a day off?” She rolled her eyes.

“Um, well, we were sort of thinking, well, you know, it was our first night as newlyjoineds and all.” He felt himself blush under her stare.

“Child, you two have been living like newlyjoineds for months. I figured last night you’d mix things up and try sleeping for a change.” She looked over his shoulder at the bags. “Why are those bags on my clean floor? You two going somewhere?”

“Farrell’s taking me to Belsport for our postnuptial trip.” Miceral stood in the doorway wrapped in a robe. “The little imp planned this as a union surprise.”

“Told you before, I’m nothing like an imp.” Grabbing Miceral’s hand, he pulled his partner closer. “I figured we’d never get any time alone in Haven, so taking a trip was the only way we could have any fun.”

“Never knew you to be a hopeless romantic.” Lisle sounded impressed.

“Never had a reason to be romantic until now.” Farrell yawned. “I think I’m going back to bed for a bit. No one’s expecting me for the next week. I might as well take advantage of my freedom.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting ready to go?” Miceral nodded toward the bags. “Would be a shame to waste these plans after all you did to surprise me.”

Farrell wanted to smack Miceral for missing the hint. “You’re probably right.” When only his partner could see his face, Farrell glared at him.

“What?”

“That was a polite way of suggesting we go back to bed for a while.”

“Missed that hint, didn’t you, Miceral?” Lisle laughed as she made her way into the other rooms to begin work.

Miceral wrapped his arms around Farrell once she moved out of sight. “Sorry.”

Stealing a kiss, Farrell wiggled out of the embrace. “No worries. You can make it up to me later.”

“EXPLAIN
TO me again why Klissmor and Nerti aren’t coming?” Even though he couldn’t see his face, Farrell could hear the unease in Miceral’s voice.

“By now, I’m sure Meglar has heard the story of the young wizard who rode a unicorn to Northhelm and helped destroy his army.” Farrell leaned his head back into the bath to rinse the soap from his hair. When he finished, he found Miceral seated at the end of the tub. “Once word of Nerti’s presence spread, we’d be hounded by his agents without rest.”

“Even in Belsport?” Miceral handed Farrell a towel.

“Thank you.” He dried his hair first. “Belsport isn’t at war with Meglar, so Zargon’s merchants are free to conduct business in the city. Most of them are probably spies who, willingly or otherwise, report back to Meglar.”

Motioning with his head, he led Miceral back to their bedroom. Laid out on the bed was comfortable but nondescript clothing. Farrell’s favorite ornate platinum-capped staff was replaced by a simple smooth staff similar to the one he used to spar with Master Baylec.

“What’s with the travel clothes?” Miceral picked up the gray tunic and held it out toward Farrell. “These look like something mercenaries would wear.”

“That’s because that’s what they are.” He pointed to the two sets of clothes. “We’re traveling to Belsport as mercenaries in search of work. I’m the younger son of a minor nobleman; you’re the son of a merchant who didn’t want to enter the family business. We’re celebrating our union ceremony with money from our families. I already made inquiries with some wealthy merchants, asking if they’re hiring.”

“What happens if they want to hire us?” Miceral arched one eyebrow at Farrell.

“We decline.” He laughed. “It’s not like we’ll be in danger of ruining our reputation. Come on, let’s go.”

When they reached the luggage in the foyer, Farrell presented Miceral with a small brown leather saddlebag. “What’s this for?”

Farrell held up a twin to the one he gave Miceral and opened one of the two side flaps. “These are union gifts from Wesfazial. The two side pouches are endless pockets. We could stuff the contents of both our closets in these and they’d be no bigger than they are now.”

Farrell picked up a travel bag many times larger than the entire saddlebag. He placed the bag over the opening to one pouch of the saddlebag and it disappeared inside. The size of the leather pocket, however, didn’t change. Miceral’s eyes widened a moment, but he quickly followed Farrell’s lead, stuffing a week’s worth of luggage into the tiny bag.

Farrell summoned a page to tell Horgon they’d left, bade Lisle good-bye, and set off for the stables, smiling foolishly. Two sturdy but unremarkable horses waited for them, saddled and groomed.

“It’s been decades since I used a saddle.” Miceral tested the straps before mounting. “Might take some getting used to.”

“Don’t worry,” Farrell said, swinging himself onto the gray gelding, sending calming thoughts to the animal in the process. “After we get through the Door, the ride shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.”

“Why can’t you bring us into the city itself and avoid the ride?” When Miceral nudged his mount, the muscular brown male started to get jittery.

“Talk to him like he was me,” Farrell suggested.

Miceral clutched the reins tighter. “He won’t understand what I’m saying.”

Rather than see his partner thrown, Farrell reached out to the skittish animal, projecting soothing thoughts. “It’s not the words but the emotions behind them. See?”

The brown horse calmed noticeably, allowing Miceral to relax. “I must be tense after all these years riding Klissmor.”

“Probably.” Pointing to a spot between two trees, Farrell opened a Door, using a marker close to Belsport. “The reason I don’t take us into the city is threefold. First, I don’t have permission. Darius, Belsport’s chief wizard, has sealed the city against unwanted Doors. It would be bad form to try to circumvent his control except in an emergency. Sadly, your comfort doesn’t rise to that level.

“The second is image. We’re mercenaries, not princes. Using a Door to travel between cities, while common for wizards, is expensive for nonwizards. If I were really the barely master-class wizard I’m projecting, there’s no way I could do it myself. Thus, we’d need to find a wizard and pay to open a Door. Then there’s the effort of finding a wizard who had a point of reference in Belsport, again no easy—”

“Didn’t you say there were three reasons?” Miceral rolled his eyes when Farrell looked over.

“Sorry, too detailed.” He led the way through the Door, keeping both animals calm as they went. They emerged at the edge of what appeared to be a great forest. “The third is we don’t want to get there too early. After all, Belsport is at least an hour behind timewise.”

When Miceral’s mount moved a few feet beyond the Door, Farrell withdrew the energy, causing it to close in a flash.

“What does that mean?” Miceral drew his horse next to Farrell’s.

“To most people, time difference isn’t an issue.” Before they got too far, he did a sweep of the area to be sure no one watched them. Finding nothing, he cast a spell around them that would make people ignore them unless something significant happened. “The sun doesn’t rise at the same time all over the planet. Belsport is several hundred miles west of Haven, so dawn comes over an hour later for them than for us. Another reason I suggested we go back to bed.”

Snickering, Miceral shook his head. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Not until tonight, at least.”

Exiting the tree cover, Farrell led them toward a road visible at the edge of the grass. Under a cloudless sky, they rode through the cultivated lands surrounding Belsport.

“Does Belsport claim this as part of their territory?” Miceral asked when they’d been riding for close to an hour.

“No and yes.” Farrell shook his head. “Belsport is a seafaring city. Its life’s blood is the port built around one of the most sheltered deepwater harbors in the world. Technically, Prince Wilhelm’s reach only extends to the city’s massive walls, but practically, these farmers and landowners consider themselves part of his domain.”

Miceral laughed. “I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be with that relationship. Wilhelm is under no obligation to protect these people.”

“Maybe not, but if you were Belsport, how would you react if a large armed force marched against the neighbors you were friendly with?” Farrell shrugged. “Besides, most of the large landowners have homes inside the city walls, making them citizens of Belsport.”

“Sounds like they’re hedging their bets.”

Farrell maneuvered his horse behind Miceral’s to let a farmer with his cart pass. Moving back up, he said, “Actually, you have it backward. Most of the large landowners came from Belsport originally. They used their wealth to buy farmland close to the city. They have a ready market for the food they grow.”

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t like merchants.”

“Ruling monarchs love them.” Farrell laughed. “The more money they make, the more tax revenue the crown gets.”

Miceral eyed him sharply. When he looked away, Farrell said, “What? You make it seem like a tawdry affair. Don’t forget, before the war, Yar-del was a major trading city, bigger than Belsport.”

“Bigger than Belsport?” The smirk on Miceral’s face made Farrell smile. “Bit biased of you, wouldn’t you say?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Yar-del had a large navy as well as a powerful wizard king or queen. It was far more desirable to do business in Yar-del than in Zargon or any of the free cities to the north. That led to the rise of a large and wealthy merchant class. There was more trade going in and out of Yar-del than anywhere else on the continent. Not that it did us much good in the end.” The last sentence came out as barely a whisper.

Farrell focused on the sound of his horse’s gait to avoid reliving a day he wished he could forget. Thankfully, Miceral didn’t comment. Farrell didn’t want to hear someone else justify his failure as not his fault.

Before the sun reached its apex, the walls of Belsport loomed ahead of them.

“By the Six, those are high walls.” Miceral’s voice broke their silence. “It would take some siege engines to breach those defenses.”

The awe in his partner’s voice brought a smile to Farrell’s lips. “If I remember correctly, they are forty-five feet high and eight feet thick.”

“Belsport put their tax money to good use, I see.”

“More than you can see, actually.” Farrell adjusted his vision so his wizard’s sight kicked in. “There are hundreds of spells layered on the walls and on the ground leading to the city. Belsport has been blessed with wise rulers who recognized the need to defend their good fortune.”

It took the better part of the next hour to reach the first line of conventional defenses, a twenty-foot-wide, ten-foot-deep trench filled with sharpened stakes. The oak drawbridge provided easy access to the city. Several alert guards monitored those who entered and the goods they brought with them.

“Remember, we’re mercenaries looking for work and celebrating our union ceremony.” Farrell didn’t turn toward his partner, keeping his focus on the guards.

“Hold.” The guard nearest them held up his hand. Sun sparkled off his burnished chest plate. “What business have you in Belsport?”

“Mercenaries looking for work.” Farrell met the man’s stare.

“Have you booked a place to stay?” He turned his attention to Miceral. “The prince doesn’t look kindly on unemployed mercs sleeping in public spaces.”

“No worries, sir.” Holding up his left hand, Farrell waited for the guard to nod before reaching into his saddlebag. “We’ve booked accommodations at the Blue Marlin.”

An eyebrow went up on the guard closest to him as the other two began to pay more attention. “Blue Marlin, you say? And you’re looking for work?”

“My father is the Baron of Vilna in Utremth, and my life partner’s father is a spice merchant in Jerdam.” Farrell handed the lodging document to the guard. “They paid for the trip as a union gift.”

“Spice merchant?” Miceral’s voice almost caused him to turn. “You’re the son of a baron, and all I get to be is a merchant’s son?”

“One of us had to come from money.”

“You’re a wizard.” The guard handed Farrell back his papers. “Why would your father let you become a mercenary?”

“My older brother felt uncomfortable having a wizard for the next in line.” He put the confirmation back in his bag. “I felt it wisest to find another place to live.”

“Brothers,” one of the guards grumbled.

The solider in charge nodded, and a guard raised the wooden pole blocking the way. “One piece of advice, wizard.” He stopped speaking until Farrell turned to face him. “Avoid seeking employment from the House of Kaleb; word has it their fortunes are about to take a turn for the worse. Consider it a union gift.”

Before Farrell could answer, Miceral nudged his mount forward. “Thank you for the advice. Would be a poor start to our union if our first contract together ended with us not getting paid.”

Farrell smiled and gave the solider a nod before following Miceral into the city. “Jealous?”

“Possessive.” Miceral turned and gave his partner a wink. “Didn’t want him to think he could make a move on my life partner.”

“We both know it would be a wasted effort.” Laughing, he motioned to the right. “The Blue Marlin is this way.”

He led them through the upper city, home to the working class, garrisons, and labor-intensive and foul-smelling industries such as tanning and slaughterhouses. When they came to a wide avenue, they turned left and descended into the lower city.

“This is amazing.” Miceral stopped his horse and looked around. “It’s as if the gods took a giant scoop out of the land but left the cliff face to guard the city.”

“Legend has it that Arritisa carved out the harbor and the land around it for Her people.” He pointed toward the narrow mouth of the harbor. “She pushed the cliffs apart just enough to allow for steady trade but close enough to be highly defensible.”

“Defensible?” Miceral shook his head. “The entrance can’t be more than a hundred yards wide. An enemy trying to sail in couldn’t get more than two or three ships at a time into the harbor, if they could survive the pounding they’d take from the fortification on top of those cliffs.”

“They would never be able to enter the harbor.” Farrell pointed to the right side of the entrance. “See that massive iron link? That’s part of a chain as wide as I am tall. In times of war, that gets pulled taut, blocking the entrance.”

“What’s that?” Miceral motioned with his chin to an island in the center of the mile-wide harbor.

“That’s the Citadel, home to the Prince of Belsport.” He nudged his horse and led them down the gentle slope heading toward the harbor. “The other houses are the homes of the leading merchants.”

“Bet that land costs a shiny gold piece,” Miceral said.

Farrell shook his head. “No, the land on Prince’s Island is not for sale. The merchants rent the land, but they own the homes.”

“How’s that work?”

“Badly for the merchant class, to be sure.” He laughed. “The prince owns the land but permits others to build homes on the island, provided they pay rent. If they can’t afford the rent or should they fall out of favor, they are told to move. Selling the house becomes tricky because the buyer has to be approved by the prince or else they can’t rent the land.”

Now Miceral laughed. “That makes negotiating difficult for the seller if the list of buyers is limited.”

“Exactly.” Farrell smirked. “Seems a good way to keep the merchants in line. Anger the prince and your home becomes almost worthless. I heard the last merchant to fall out with the crown was forced to all but give away his magnificent home. The prince only approved one renter—the captain of his guard. The man refused to pay more than two silver pieces—no doubt the price set by the prince. That was over two hundred years ago.”

A breeze swept up the street, confined by the tightly packed stone buildings. Farrell closed his eyes and breathed in deep. The ocean smell, combined with the sound of seagulls squawking and fishmongers calling out their goods, reminded him of Yar-del. Nearly overwhelmed by the memory, he couldn’t choke off a small sob.

“Farrell?” The concern in Miceral’s voice made Farrell even more annoyed by his reaction.

“Sorry.” He managed a thin smile. “Being here reminds me of Yar-del, which is odd because I’ve been to Belsport several times since Yar-del fell.”

Miceral moved his horse closer and squeezed Farrell’s hand. He kept silent, leaving Farrell alone with his thoughts.

Moving west, they descended past increasingly larger homes and more expensive shops. Across the water, they could see commercial buildings just beyond the extensive docks. Below, several smaller piers held small, well-appointed boats docked in front of grand villas. Reaching the second-to-last tier, Farrell turned north.

“The Blue Marlin is just ahead.” His voice seemed almost strange to him after the extended silence. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Miceral gave him a grin. “If the inn is half as grand as what we’ve passed, it will easily be the finest place I’ve ever stayed.”

Tugging the reins, Farrell turned onto a small semicircular path in front of an ornate building. Columns carved with images of the ocean and its goddess lined the front of what could easily be a palace anywhere else.

When Farrell and Miceral stopped by the front door, a well-dressed doorman slowly eyed them up and down. A moment later, he snapped his fingers, and two teenage boys came scurrying over to attend and stand in front of the horses.

“Good afternoon, sirs,” the doorman said, keeping his place in front of the entrance. “Is it your intention to be guests of the Blue Marlin this day?”

“It is, sir.” Farrell dismounted and pulled the documents from the saddlebag. “I contracted with your innkeeper a few weeks ago for a suite for my partner and I to celebrate our union.”

The man continued to eye him, spending time observing his boots and weapons. Finally he moved closer. “Who shall I tell Master Jarvis has arrived?”

Reaching slowly into his purse, Farrell withdrew a silver ducat. If the doorman noticed his actions, he gave no hint of it as Farrell walked over and shook his hand. “Halloran and my partner, Miceral.” When he removed his hand, the coin disappeared and the man smiled.

“At once, good sirs.” He flicked his wrist twice at the boys and moved inside.

Miceral dismounted and moved to the teenagers. He handed a small silver coin to each. “There will be double that if our horses are well cared for while we’re here.”

The coins disappeared as the pair smiled broadly and gave Miceral a small bow. Farrell grabbed his saddlebag just before one of the boys collected the reins. The horses quickly disappeared, leaving them alone to wait for word from Master Jarvis.

Farrell slung his saddlebag over his left shoulder, then moved closer to his partner.

The doorman returned a moment later.

“Masters Halloran and Miceral.” He bowed twice. “My apologies for not recognizing two such important guests. Your common attire and casual attitude are most convincing. Even I, who prides himself on seeing through disguises, was fooled.”

The man snapped his fingers, and two smartly dressed young men appeared, holding out their hands for the pair’s travel bags.

“I am Galthus, at your service.” He eyed the small bags. “Traveling light, I see. Well, we have all the amenities well-born persons such as yourselves might require. Simply ask for me, and I’ll personally see that you’re taken care of.”

“By the Six, what happened that he’s suddenly treating you like… well, Prince Halloran of Yar-del?”

“When one rents the most expensive suite at the Blue Marlin and pays in full, in advance, it is presumed that said person is a gentleman of means.” Farrell winked at his partner. “And for what I paid, only a prince or wealthy merchant could afford such rates.”

They followed Galthus to a small office just off the main staircase. After knocking twice on the door, Galthus moved back to the entrance, bowing his head as he passed. A large, portly man with thin wisps of gray-black hair emerged from the office, smiling ear to ear. Dressed like a successful merchant, the man had to be Master Jarvis.

“M’lord Halloran, so good to finally meet you.” He offered his hand to Miceral, who pointed toward Farrell.

“I’m Miceral, that’s F—Halloran.” His face turned bright red. Only the fact that Jarvis moved quickly to “Halloran,” the paying customer, saved Miceral from having to explain his near slipup.

“My apologies, my lord. I am Master Jarvis. Welcome to the Blue Marlin.” Spreading both arms, he bowed foppishly. “I trust you and your partner had no difficulties finding us?”

“I hope we’ll be able to have some time away from all the fawning staff.” Miceral didn’t make eye contact, just as Farrell had taught him.

“No worries, love, we’re almost free of them.” Smiling back at the innkeeper, he said, “Our journey was pleasant, and we had no problems finding the inn. I must say, my agent was too stingy in his praise. His words failed to capture the true magnificence of your inn.”

Jarvis appeared pleased by the compliment. “Well, young sir, we cater to those used to the finer things. Your suite is ready. These two will assist you in finding your way. If you need anything, anything at all, please let us know.”

“And he’ll be only too happy to bill us outrageously for the privilege of doing what should be in the price we paid.” Miceral’s comment got a small snicker from Farrell, despite his best attempt to ignore it.

“My apologies, Master Jarvis, I was not laughing at your offer. I was responsible for packing, and in my haste to leave, I forgot a good many things. Miceral gave me a fair bit of teasing on the ride, and your words reminded me of my mistake.”

“Fear not, m’lord. As I said, we’re well equipped to deal with any of your needs.” Turning to his assistants, he nodded toward the stairs. “Enjoy your stay.”

“You’ll pay for that comment.” While not really mad, Farrell tried to sound convincing. “Perhaps an army of fire ants in your pants will teach you a lesson.”

“Wow, you don’t play fair, do you? And you recovered so well too.” Miceral clearly didn’t take him seriously. “But before you go handing out fire ants, remember two things. I get up earlier than you. Ice water can be a brutal wake-up call. And second, if you put them down my pants, that might hinder our postnuptial activities.”

They both started laughing again, drawing an amused look from their guides. Up two flights of stairs, down a long, rug-covered hallway, and the four stopped before a set of inlaid oak doors at the end of the corridor.

Once the staff put the saddlebags down, Farrell gave each a silver coin for their efforts and motioned for the door. Even as they bowed, Farrell thought he saw a smirk on one of their faces. Fine, let them think what they wanted; they were probably right. Shutting the door behind them, he turned to find Miceral looking around the room.

“Great Lenore, this room puts our suite to shame.” He spun around, looking to Farrell like a small child who’d just received his birthday gifts. “I mean, you’re the Prince of Haven and Yar-del and you don’t live like this.”

Farrell laughed, giving his partner a kiss. “If we wanted to live like this, we could, but I prefer our comfortable furniture to this showy stuff. It reminds me of the formal sitting room.” He sat in a beautifully carved upholstered chair and rolled his eyes. “Not comfortable at all, but the view is spectacular.”

They walked to the balcony and opened the window. Despite it being winter, they were farther north, making the breeze almost warm. The entire harbor stretched out before them, affording them an unobstructed view of the Citadel and its many spires.

“I didn’t realize we were so high up.” Miceral leaned over the balcony, turning his head left and right. “This is very nice; even the weather is perfect. You couldn’t have planned a better postunion trip if you tried.” A pair of strong hands swept Farrell off his feet. “I love you, Farrell.”

“Halloran,” he corrected. “At least for the week. And I love you too, Miceral. C’mon, let’s unpack, have dinner, then you can pay up for your earlier mistake.”

Chapter 20

LEAVING
THE tailor’s shop, Farrell put his new tunics in his endless pocket.

“You’re going to make Galthus insane.” Miceral smirked. “Every day he eyes us whenever we change clothes.”

Farrell laughed, looking around for a place to eat. “The man’s gotten more than enough coins from me in the last four days. I’m fine if I upset him.”

Miceral tapped Farrell’s shoulder and pointed to a merchant selling food. “Want to try that one?”

Squinting, Farrell muttered a spell, then waited for the results. “Definitely not. The meat inside the pastry is spoiled. You can’t tell because of the heavy spices used, but it’ll make us sick if we eat there.”

A sigh escaped Miceral’s lips. “Much as I appreciate you checking every vendor, it’s frustrating to see so many selling rancid food.”

“Let’s go back to the inn.” Farrell nodded toward the side street that led to the Blue Marlin. “Galthus will be happy to give a recommendation for some more of my silver.”

“He’s not been wrong so far.” Miceral shrugged. “Better than you checking every random food seller we come upon.”

The pair navigated their way between various merchants and vendors before reaching the main avenue. “I’ve never seen a populace so intent on making a sale,” Miceral said when they cleared the last stall. “A gauntlet might have been easier to run through.”

Rolling his eyes, Farrell shook his head. “You never experienced Market Square in Yar-del. Made these sellers look tame.”

“Not that you’re biased, of course.”

“I may be, but I’m also certain—” Farrell pulled up, staring at the corner of the Blue Marlin. “We’ve got a problem. Someone’s using dark magic inside the inn.”

“Are you sure?” Miceral’s hand immediately went to his sword. “I mean, you can tell it’s not regular magic from this far away?”

“Yes.” Ignoring the questioning look from his partner, Farrell restrained himself from running back to the inn. His increased pace quickly brought them to the front entrance, where Galthus stood scanning the street.

“Galthus, what’s happening?” Farrell’s voice caused the man to jump. When he recognized the pair, his face relaxed slightly.

“Masters Halloran and Miceral, thank the Six you’ve returned.” He grabbed each of the guests by the shoulder. “Two wizards came in demanding to stay in your suite. Well, Master Jarvis told them no and—”

“They asked specifically for our suite?” Farrell shot Miceral a worried look.

“Yes—I mean not your—I….”

“Calm down.” Miceral put his hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Now, tells us—slowly—what happened.”

“Two wizards marched in and demanded they be given the room on the top floor that overlooked the Citadel. They told Master Jarvis to get the key and take them forthwith. Master Jarvis explained the suite was rented, but they could secure accommodation if they had the required fee. That did not sit well with them. The older one set Master Jarvis’s tunic and arm on fire.”

“Describe what they were wearing.” Farrell knew the answer but needed to be sure.

“They wore the black and red of Zargon.” Galthus spat out the last word. “They’ve been making trouble in the city for a while, but this is the first time they’ve come to the Blue Marlin.”

Farrell scanned the area for anyone else. “Have you sent word to the constables?”

“Of course.” Galthus nodded vigorously. “I’m waiting for them to arrive.”

Before Farrell could answer, he felt magic being worked in the area of the inn where their rooms were located. “They’re trying to break the seal I put on the room.”

“Wait here,” Farrell told Galthus, stepping around the still-shaken man. “I’ll take care of them until the constables arrive.”

“My lord!” The panic in the doorman’s voice caused Farrell to whip his head around. “There are two of them to just one of you. Shouldn’t you wait?”

“I know it’s not fair to them, but if they wanted to pick a fight, they should’ve brought more people.” He gave the older man a wink.

“Don’t get cocky,” Miceral said.

“Don’t worry. I can handle this.” Reaching out for his spell, he found the wards holding as expected. “They’re still trying to get inside our suite.”

“Can they get through?” Miceral followed a step behind.

“Not unless it’s Meglar trying, and even he would have a problem.”

Farrell felt a second attempt before they reached Jarvis. A cook and an elderly maid tended the innkeeper’s wound. They had carefully cut away the charred cloth to reveal a nasty, oozing burn.

“Sorry, Ral, this looks like the end of our trip.” Farrell gently moved the maid to the side. “We can’t let them hurt these people.”

“Why not leave it to the local authorities?”

“Doubtful they’ll get here in time. They’ve stopped trying to break into our suite, so they’re probably on their way down already.”

The cook, the large knife shaking in his hand, moved back toward the kitchen, tugging on the older woman. Farrell crouched down, carefully holding Jarvis’s arm parallel to the ground.

“Galthus told me they burned you when you tried to keep them from our room.” Farrell noted the glazed look he’d seen so many times before on people in pain. “I’m sorry this happened, but I can help.”

Without waiting for a reply, Farrell passed his staff over the man’s injuries. After the third pass, the red, blistering skin disappeared, leaving it only slightly pinker than the rest.

Pushing the barest amount of power through his staff, Farrell sent a scan through the inn, looking for the wizards. “Be alert, Miceral. They’re on the stairs.”

Farrell stepped back just before two men entered the common room. The black tunics with red trim announced their allegiance to Zargon and, by extension, Meglar.

“Innkeeper!” The older man snarled. “This key wouldn’t open the door. Perhaps if I light your head on fire, you’ll give me the right key.”

Farrell turned his wizard’s sight on the pair. The one who spoke was a master wizard of average strength. The younger man would never get beyond wizard class.

“It won’t open because I don’t want you in my room.” Farrell’s voice seemed to surprise the pair. He rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. This scum is the best Meglar can dredge up?”

“Why are you taunting them?” Miceral didn’t hide the annoyance in his voice. “If you keep them busy long enough, the constables can handle this.”

“I’ll try.” Farrell never took his focus off the glaring master wizard. “But I like my way better.”

“You won’t live long enough to regret insulting me, whelp.” Without warning, the gray-haired man pointed his hand at Farrell’s chest. The ball of energy drew loud gasps when it exploded on contact.

Waiting for the light to dissipate, Farrell fixed an evil grin on his face. His adversary’s stunned expression quickly turned into a frown. Farrell let the man study him for a moment before moving away from the others.

“As I said, pathetic. First you ignore me, then you insult me with a ridiculous attack even a novice could block.” Circling, he moved to place himself between the wizards and the exit. “Does that idiot Meglar know how worthless you are?”

“Watch your tongue.” The man’s eyes narrowed. Farrell felt him extend a link with his companion. “No one insults the emperor.”

“I’m not afraid of Meglar.” From the corner of his left eye, Farrell saw Miceral herding the others behind a pillar. “You two, however, should be worried about me.”

The Zargonian wizard laughed, not a nervous laugh, but a genuinely amused one. “Your aura is no brighter than the novice’s beside me. You won’t best us, let alone the mighty Meglar.”

“If that’s true, you should have no trouble defeating me.” Farrell shrugged, trying to look as unconcerned as he felt. “But considering you couldn’t break the seal on my room and your first attack was completely ineffective, I’m not afraid.”

“Then know fear, fool!” The wizard drew energy from his companion and sent a second, more powerful strike toward Farrell. This one washed over his personal shields, scorching the rug around him.

“Time’s up,” he sent Miceral.

Waving his staff overhead, Farrell surrounded the two wizards and himself with an energy shield to protect the others. When the pair turned their focus from the newly raised shield to Farrell, he brought his staff down with a thud. “My turn.”

Four balls of blue energy shot from the end of the staff in rapid succession. The younger man flew backward, his personal shields unable to stop the two bolts of power directed at him. He died before he hit the wall.

Although his shield managed to slow the first attack, the master wizard fared no better than his apprentice. The first ball shattered his defenses, singeing his clothing, before the second strike tore a hole in his chest.

The smell of burnt flesh permeated the common area, accompanied by a faint crackling sound coming from the two lifeless bodies. No one spoke, but just stared at them.

“Too late you learned the folly of following Meglar.” After dissolving his shield, Farrell knelt and ran his staff over the man, collecting what little energy the dead wizard retained.

Before Farrell rejoined Miceral, two wizards wearing constable clothing entered the inn. Without speaking, the lead wizard cast a spell over the entire room. Feeling the magic wash over his shields, Farrell determined the constable meant to immobilize everyone.

Farrell returned his staff to his back when the constable walked past him to check on the two downed wizards. “They’re dead.”

Both constables turned toward him, staffs pointed in his direction. Careful not to make any sudden movements, he kept his hands where they could see them. “Before you attempt to freeze me again, perhaps you should hear what I have to say. If I wanted, I could have killed you both when you turned your backs to me.”

Neither lowered their staffs, nor did they release the power they had ready for use. “Despite the fact you just attacked me, I’m not your enemy.” Keeping his shields up, Farrell slowly spread his arms wide, then locked them behind his back. When they didn’t attack, he continued. “Those two set the innkeeper on fire when he wouldn’t give them access to my room. When they couldn’t get past the wards I placed there, they threatened to set Master Jarvis on fire again. I came to his defense, and that’s when they attacked me. Twice. Unlike your spell, his tried to peel the flesh from my body. When they attacked a second time, I responded. You can hardly hold me accountable because they couldn’t defend themselves. Ask the innkeeper and his staff if you doubt my words.”

With a flick of his hand, he unfroze the others. The constable raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react.

“He speaks the truth, good constables.” Jarvis moved forward to come between the officers and Farrell. “Had he not arrived when he did, those two would have roasted me alive.”

Showing him the burned sleeve, he pointed to the dead wizards. “They showed up and demanded I give them, not rent, but give them the suite that overlooked the Citadel. Not only did that make me suspicious, it was also out of the question. I told them it was rented already, but we had other very nice accommodations they could have for the appropriate fee. The older one sneered at me and demanded the key to the Prince’s Suite. When I refused, he set me on fire.”

Intentionally or not, Jarvis rubbed the newly healed skin. “It only lasted a few seconds, but then he said if I didn’t want to burn to death, I’d give him the keys. To my shame, I did. Little did I know Master Halloran was a powerful wizard. He added his own magic to the protective spells we put on all our rooms.

“Master Halloran had healed my burn when they came back and threatened to finish what they started. The gray-haired wizard attacked Master Halloran without warning.”

The constable nodded as if listening, but Farrell heard the soft noise of magic. Scanning the pair, he felt the head constable directing energy through his amulet.

“We need to go, Miceral. They’re calling someone. Probably reinforcements.” Staring at the pair, he shook his head. “Join me so I can shield you in case this turns into a fight.”

“Do you think it’ll come to that?” Miceral moved closer, drawing the attention of the officers.

“It may, but I’ll do my best not to hurt them.” Before either of the officers could react, Farrell extended his shields around Miceral. “I can send a diplomatic mission once we’re home to explain it to Prince Wilhelm.”

Moving to the left of Jarvis, Miceral and Farrell angled toward the stairs.

“Master Jarvis.” The man turned to face Farrell. “The constables don’t believe you; they’ve called for backup.”

“Stay where you are!” the one on Farrell’s right said. “You’re a suspect in the death of these two men. The prince will want to question you.” Keeping their staves pointed at him and Miceral, the pair looked nervously at each other.

“You know you can’t stop me from leaving.” Farrell moved closer to the stairs. “I’d rather not reduce the ranks of the prince’s constables, so you’d be wise not to attack me while you wait for Darius to arrive.”

Again the constables exchanged uncertain looks. Using the distraction, Farrell pointed to the stairs. “Go ahead. I’ll make sure they don’t follow.”

“Understood.” Miceral moved as Farrell directed. Before they could leave, several constables entered the inn, followed by an older wizard with an ornate staff. He had his steel-gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, keeping it from his weathered, tan skin. A spark of recognition flashed in the older man’s sea-green eyes.

“Go, I’ll handle this.” Farrell motioned with his left hand for Miceral to continue.

“Are you sure you’ll be safe?” Miceral stopped two steps ahead of Farrell.

“Yes, that’s Darius, the prince’s chief wizard. We know each other. I doubt he’ll do anything, knowing who I am, at least not without consulting Prince Wilhelm first.”

“Prince Farrell,” Darius said, using his hand to stay the other constables. “No one knew you were in Belsport. You should have informed us of your visit.”

“This was strictly a personal trip. Miceral and I are celebrating our union. Had we announced our arrival, Prince Wilhelm would’ve turned it into a state visit.” Noting how Darius’s gaze kept moving toward the dead wizards, Farrell bolstered his shields, keeping an offensive spell ready.

Darius finally turned toward Jarvis. “What happened here, sir?”

Jarvis quickly recounted the same story he’d told the constables. The frown on Darius’s face did little to ease Farrell’s tension. Outnumbered, he needed to be cautious or people, Darius among them, could end up dead.

“Here for vacation, and it just happens to end in a fight that kills two of Meglar’s wizards.” Darius pointed to the dead bodies. “The same Meglar you are mortal enemies with. Do you see where I’m going with this?” Darius’s words and body language told Farrell to leave.

“If you mean to suggest this was an amazing coincidence, then I do. But if you mean to suggest I came to Belsport to pick a fight with Meglar’s wizards so I could kill them, then you’re a fool. Perhaps I misjudged you and Belsport. I thought you recognized the grave danger Meglar represents, but you allow them free run of the city.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed and his lips pinched tight. “You have no idea what’s happening, so mind your tongue. No one invited these wizards to our city, but Prince Wilhelm treads carefully to avoid Meglar’s wrath.”

“Then the prince is a fool.” One of the constables moved to his left, but Darius grabbed his arm to keep him in place. “You cannot appease Meglar. There is capitulation or defeat, nothing else.”

“Your view is clouded where Meglar is concerned. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Biased or not, my words are true.” One of the constables looked expectantly back toward the door. “As nice as it is to chat with you, I’m going now.”

“Wait.” The urgency in Darius’s voice confirmed Farrell’s suspicions. “I have a few more questions.”

Laughing, Farrell shook his head. “You think me that much a fool, Darius? You’re stalling until you get the numbers on your side. No, I’m leaving. Perhaps we’ll meet again, though I doubt I’ll return again without an army behind me to ensure my freedom.”

“You know I can’t let you go.” Darius motioned for the other wizards to fan out. “This incident requires an inquiry. Prince Wilhelm will not be happy if I let you leave.”

“What pleases Wilhelm has no bearing on my decision.” Farrell’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the older man. “We both know you can’t stop me.”

“And we both know I have to try.” Despite his words, Darius made no overt move to stop Farrell.

“I do.” Farrell increased his shield further and anchored it to the stairway wall. “But as I said, you can’t stop me from leaving.”

“My lord,” one of the constables spoke, drawing Darius’s attention.

“Be silent, Constable.” The older wizard never took his eyes from Farrell.

“Darius, you would be wise to remind Wilhelm that there are two forces on this continent worth fearing: Meglar and myself. My army is far closer to Belsport than Meglar’s. At some point, I might be the only thing standing between Belsport and Meglar. It would be unwise, to say the least, to make me your enemy. I suggest you speak to Wilhelm before you raise a finger against me and start what I promise will end in Belsport’s destruction.”

Darius maintained eye contact for a moment more, then turned to the constable closest to him. “Do nothing while I’m gone.” He opened a Door and stepped through, closing the portal behind him.

Farrell further reinforced the shield across the stairway. It wouldn’t deter Darius and the constables for long, but they couldn’t charge after him, either.

Miceral had everything packed when Farrell returned. Ignoring his partner, Farrell moved toward a blank wall and began opening a Door home.

“Things went that well?” Miceral brought their saddlebags to where Farrell stood.

“Belsport has taken the tack of appeasing Meglar.” He kept his eyes on the Door. “Darius expects me to submit to questioning regarding the death of Meglar’s wizards. I let him know that wouldn’t happen and any attempt to take me into custody would be considered an act of war. He left right after I said that, presumably to speak with Prince Wilhelm. I think we’re better served to go home and let the diplomats deal with this.”

He was just locking the third point of the Door when he felt magic wash over the room. “Farrell, this is Darius. I have Prince Wilhelm with me. He wants to talk with you. Please lower your barrier so we can come up.”

Farrell ignored the request, locking in the fourth point. He pushed out with his will until the foyer of their personal suite shimmered into focus. Spinning away from the Door, he put his left hand under his chin and whispered a spell. Opening his fingers, he said, “Darius, you and Wilhelm may come up. Bring anyone else, and I’ll be gone before you get here.”

He closed his fist and turned to Miceral. “Go now. I’m staying only long enough to tell them they can come to Haven if they want to speak with me. Have Klissmor alert Horgon, Erstad, and Wesfazial.”

“Farrell—”

“Please, don’t argue.” Using magic, Farrell sent the bags through the Door. “I’ll be fine. With the Door open, I can get away before Darius can launch a spell. If you stay, he could try to attack you to get to me.”

Miceral continued to frown but nodded and walked through. Alone, Farrell raised a shield around himself and the Door, making sure not to mask his efforts. If Darius thought to catch him off guard, Farrell had just shouted his readiness for a fight.

A loud rap on the door announced the prince’s arrival. “Come in.”

Slowly, the door opened, and Darius and Prince Wilhelm cautiously entered. On his previous visits, Farrell had only met Darius. His first impression of Wilhelm confirmed what he’d expected: middle-aged, tall, lanky, a touch of gray in his brown hair. A long nose and thin lips offset the piercing gray eyes that seemed to take in every detail.

“Gentlemen.” He gave his “guests” the barest of bows. “Given the less than welcoming reception I received downstairs, I’m going home. If you want to speak to me, come to Haven, where you have my personal guarantee you’ll be safe. That’s more than I enjoy in Belsport.”

Darius’s gaze swept across the room. “How did you open a Door? Belsport is sealed and bound to my will. How did you circumvent my ward?”

“You don’t really expect me to stick around and explain how, do you?” Farrell shook his head. “I must be going.”

“Farrell, wait. We really only wish to talk,” Darius said. “Prince Wilhelm has no desire to make you his enemy.”

“Would giving you my personal guarantee really change your mind, Farrell?” Wilhelm gave him the barest of smirks. “It appears to me you’re going no matter what I say.”

“Had it been given before I made the decision to go home, yes. Your word would’ve been sufficient. But, as my partner and our belongings are back in Haven, I’ll be joining them. The offer stands. You may come to Haven if you wish to speak further.”

Darius raised a hand when Farrell took a sidestep toward the Door. Bringing his staff around, he pointed it at the pair. “Even attempt a spell, Darius, and Belsport will be without its chief wizard and its prince.”

Palms pressed against his chest in a sign of nonaggression, Darius shook his head. “As a sign of our good faith, I haven’t even raised a shield around us. We only wish to talk, but you cannot expect us to walk through your Door on a whim like this.”

“And after what you said downstairs, you can’t expect I would stay here to discuss anything. I’m no enemy of Belsport, and I haven’t done or said anything to suggest I am. But for now, I shall take my leave. Come to Haven or stay here. Either way, you know how to reach me in the future. The Door will remain open for as long as you remain in these rooms.”

Without waiting for an answer, Farrell returned to Haven. The room was empty when he arrived.

“Do you think they’re coming?” Miceral entered from their bedroom, sword in hand.

Farrell smiled, shaking his head. “You won’t need that. If they decide to come, there won’t be any violence.”

“Never hurts to let them know we’re prepared.” Miceral took a step back and put the sword in the hallway to their private rooms. “You never answered if you think they’re coming.”

“Difficult to say. Were the situation reversed, I doubt I’d accept the impromptu invitation.”

Darius and Wilhelm were discussing something on the other side of the still-open Door. With a word, Farrell could have listened in, but decided against it.

“I didn’t, however, expect Darius to bring Wilhelm when he returned. That the prince came, alone no less, tells me he wants something.”

Wilhelm inclined his head slightly, earning a nod from his chief wizard. Whatever they’d said, the pair walked toward the Door.

“Welcome to Haven, Prince Wilhelm.” Farrell bowed, gesturing toward Miceral. “This is Miceral, my life partner.”

Letting Miceral handle things for a moment, Farrell reached out for Nerti.

“Nerti?”

Miceral led them to the formal sitting room.

“If you’re going to inform me we have guests, I’m aware of their arrival.”

It took some effort not to smirk at her tone. “Actually, my queen, I was wondering if you could listen in on things. I have the feeling Wilhelm’s going to try to eat me for lunch with his negotiating skills.”

“Horgon will handle Wilhelm. He’s on his way, but until then, I can stay with you.”

He opened his mind when he felt Nerti’s touch. “Prince Wilhelm, as I assume this visit is about more than just the death of Meglar’s wizards, I’ve asked my first minister and a senior wizard to join us. They should be here shortly.”

Wilhelm’s right eyebrow moved up fractionally. “You think your killing two of Meglar’s wizards, guests in my city, isn’t what I’ve come to discuss?”

Farrell snorted. “I see you think me simple. If that’s how this meeting will go, perhaps you might want to go back to Belsport. I don’t feel disposed to waste my time.”

“Not very subtle.” Farrell nearly turned at the sound of Miceral’s voice.

“Wasn’t trying to be. If he wants to play games, I’ve got better things to do.” Keeping his eyes on Wilhelm, Farrell tried not to give away that he and Miceral were speaking mind to mind. “I’m more than a bit annoyed we had to cancel our trip early.”

“There’ll be others, so try to be civil.”

“Not exactly the welcome I expected.” Wilhelm’s voice gave away very little.

“Prince Wilhelm.” Farrell paused to keep his composure. “We both know you don’t expect me to answer for the deaths of those two maggots. Not only am I considerably more powerful than your chief wizard, we’re in Haven, and the only way for you to return to Belsport is through a Door that answers to me. You’re shrewd enough to know better than to antagonize me in my own home.

“Since you’re not here to discuss my being held accountable for their deaths, you must want something else.” Staring at the older man, Farrell thought he saw a hint of a smile.

“Rather sure of yourself, are you?” Wilhelm’s light tone belied how carefully he seemed to choose his words. “You are that sure you can best Darius and avoid my judgment?”

“Yes.” Realizing Wilhelm sought something from the exchange, Farrell refused to explain himself.

The two princes kept their eyes on each other, almost staring each other down. Farrell had nearly turned away when Wilhelm smiled. “Not going to help me out by rambling, are you?”

Farrell returned the smirk. “Not if I can help it.”

“Then I can see I didn’t waste my time with this visit.” Wilhelm’s body appeared to relax for the first time since he arrived. “Darius said you were no fool, and as usual, he is correct.”

“Flattery won’t work, either.” Farrell turned to the gray-haired wizard. “But I thank you for the compliment.”

“As you surmised, my purpose isn’t to bring you to justice for the death of those wizards.” Wilhelm drew Farrell’s attention back to him. “Meglar has no respect for me or my people, but we suspected this before his people arrived. When Meglar’s ambassador requested we permit his wizards to visit, we were told they were agents of the crown. Normally, this would be an absurd statement, but there are only a select few Meglar trusts to act on his behalf. My staff tells me that Meglar only sends wizards to other places to act as his factors.

“Of course, we didn’t believe they were what they purported to be, but it was impossible to deny the request without insulting Zargon’s king. Given Belsport is no better able to fend off Meglar than any of the other kingdoms he conquered, you can appreciate the position I was in.”

“Indeed, I understand all too well the danger Meglar represents.” Farrell tried to keep the “told you so” tone from his voice. “He is the reason Haven exists.”

Wilhelm kept his eyes on Farrell, as if looking for something. After a moment, he nodded. “Haven is something of a mystery. I understand in principle what it is, but beyond a sanctuary for those who fled Meglar, we know very little about it.”

Staring back, Farrell couldn’t decide if Wilhelm really knew so little about Haven. “That is by design, Prince Wilhelm. We wouldn’t want Meglar to find us.”

“Of course.” Wilhelm’s smile looked forced. “According to Darius, not only are you a grand master wizard, you’ve managed to cobble together the survivors into some semblance of a very large army.”

“What’s his game?” Farrell asked Nerti.

“I sense anxiety, anticipation, and hope, but no deception,” she answered.

“The first part is correct. I was Heminaltose’s last student.” He saw no harm in admitting what Darius already knew. “As for the size of Haven’s army, I need to politely decline to answer that.”

A small chuckle escaped Wilhelm’s lips. “Respectfully understood.”

Before Farrell could respond, Nerti’s voice stopped him. “Horgon is almost to your suite, little one.”

“Thank you.” Armed with the new information, Farrell decided to stall. “Prince Wilhelm, forgive me if I’m blunt, but I feel we’ve moved to the real purpose of your visit. If you would indulge me and hold on to those thoughts a bit longer, my first minister will be here shortly.”

This time Darius laughed. “That sounds more like Sanduval than Heminaltose. Diplomacy was not Sanduval’s strong suit. He said what was on his mind, consequences be damned.”

Farrell managed a thin, sad smile. “A perk of being one of the greatest wizards of his age.”

A loud knock filled the apartment. Miceral stood up, motioning for the others to remain seated. “I’ll get it.”

“They were both fine men.” Darius said, seeming to sense Farrell’s mood. “You do them both proud.”

“Yes, they were.”

Horgon and Erstad followed Miceral into the sitting room, bowing politely to Prince Wilhelm. Once he finished the introductions, Farrell allowed Horgon to do most of the talking.

Somewhere during the discussions, a page brought several trays of food and drink. Erstad handed him some food and he realized the fight had interrupted his and Miceral’s lunch plans. Conversation came to a stop when Farrell sat down with a second heaping plate.

“Does he always eat like that?” Wilhelm asked Horgon. “If I ate half of that, I’d be twice my size.”

Darius laughed. “Magic makes a wizard hungry.”

Self-conscious at the attention, Farrell started to put his food aside when Erstad put his hand on the plate. “Don’t stop eating; it’s hard enough keeping you as lean as you are.”

Wilhelm and Horgon moved to the food. “My father once warned me,” Wilhelm said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “never hire a fat wizard. I see there is more than a hint of truth to that.”

Horgon winked at Farrell and said, “I could mention a few comments about never eating with merchants, but I fear that might spoil the mood.”

Laughing, Wilhelm nodded. “I fear they are probably all true.”

“Prince Wilhelm.” Farrell drew the attention back to himself. “Before my father-in-law arrived, we started to discuss why you made this unplanned visit. If you’re still of a mind to talk about it, I’m ready to listen.”

Wilhelm stared at Farrell for an impolite amount of time before laying his plate on a table. “It would seem I’ve underestimated you, Prince Farrell. Knowing one’s limitations isn’t a common trait among the ruling class.”

“Hopefully, you weren’t expecting to prey on my perceived naivety to wrangle something contrary to my best interests.” Farrell smiled, but he didn’t find much humor in the conversation.

“In any negotiation, each side seeks an outcome beneficial to its own interests.” Wilhelm’s features softened. “So naturally that was a thought when I arrived.”

Farrell resisted the urge to scoff at the answer. “Would it be fair to say you’re here to see what aid we can provide in the event Meglar is unhappy with you for letting his wizards be killed?”

Wilhelm chuckled softly. “That’s one way to put it. Don’t mistake Meglar’s agents in my city for my being ignorant to their true purpose. As I said before, without offending Zargon’s king, I had no good reason to evict them.”

“They steal energy your wizards would use in defense of Belsport.” Erstad shook his head. “If that’s not reason enough, what is?”

“Nay, Master Erstad, it is not.” Wilhelm turned toward his wizard, who shrugged. “They do no more than any other wizard might do—collect energy. But trying to seize property and burning a respected merchant, these are reasons worth taking action.”

Farrell arched an eyebrow. “So long as you have an ally of some substance to back you up.”

“Exactly.”

“Meglar’s power is located well to the east of you, Prince Wilhelm,” Erstad said. “Were he to try to lay siege to Belsport, he would need to bypass Honal and Pelipan. Doing so would leave his seat of power vulnerable to attack. With his eye set on conquering the remaining two kingdoms, it is unlikely he would directly attack you. More likely he would attack you through one of your neighbors.”

Wilhelm nodded slowly. “A sound conclusion, but that would still leave us at a disadvantage. If I allied myself with you, what assistance would you be able to offer if Belsport was attacked?”

Erstad appeared on the verge of answering, so Farrell raised his hand. “The answer would depend on the form of the attack. If it’s an attack by a neighbor supported by Zargon, we might commit considerable resources to assist you. But should Meglar lead the attack, we will not sally forth and confront him.”

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Farrell.

“Go ahead. Say what you’re thinking.” Farrell gave Wilhelm a wry grin. “Why are we so cowardly that we won’t aid you when you need us most?”

“That was the general gist of my thoughts,” Wilhelm said. “Though I don’t recall thinking you were a coward.”

“Thus far, Meglar has decided the time and place of his attacks. That has worked to his advantage. I won’t let him goad me into acting too soon or in a place where he holds the upper hand.”

Other than raising an eyebrow, Wilhelm’s face didn’t change. “Even if it means he conquers the rest of the continent?”

“Even that. Yes.” Farrell shook his head. “It makes no sense for me to confront him unless there is a reasonable chance of success. After me, who’s left?”

“Then what if he attacks Belsport? What of my city?”

“We would help shield your city long enough to evacuate your people,” Erstad said.

“Evacuate to where?” Darius’s body stiffened as he scanned everyone’s face. “There won’t be anyplace left to run to.”

Farrell met his glare without flinching. “Your people would be welcome at Haven, or, if you desire, we’d help you find a new home somewhere else.”

“Hardly the alliance we would need to risk Meglar’s wrath.” The elder wizard looked disgusted.

Wilhelm’s soft chuckle surprised Farrell. “Perhaps I missed the joke, Prince Wilhelm.”

“My apologies,” he said. “Before we came to Haven, Darius was the strongest voice for expelling Meglar’s ambassadors. Politics isn’t as simple as he would like to believe.”

“Darius, I’m sorry if my offer isn’t what you had hoped, but it’s the best we can make. Everything I do is for one goal—defeating Meglar. As callous as I sound, as shortsighted as you may think me, I’ll not change my plans because Meglar changes his.”

“And if he doesn’t cooperate and come when and where you want him?” Darius said. “What will you do then?”

Farrell noted the challenge in Darius’s voice. “He’ll come. I can’t say more, but he’ll come. The question for you is, do you let Meglar continue to weaken you until he is ready to attack, or do you take action now and give yourselves a fighting chance?”

Raising a bushy white eyebrow, Darius didn’t back down. “Expelling Meglar’s wizards also prevents him from collecting energy that he will use against you. Essentially, you’re asking Belsport to make itself a target to deny Meglar power for your own benefit.”

“If you want to look at things through the narrow prism of the risk to Belsport only, that’s your mistake to make. Your only hope for survival is for me to defeat Meglar. If you want to aid him ahead of our confrontation, that’s your choice, but you should be able to see how that isn’t in your best long-term interest.”

Wilhelm held up his hand, cutting Darius off before he could respond. “Though I recognize your bias in this, you still make valid points. I’ve always known that unless he is stopped, Meglar will eventually attack Belsport. But as I understand magic, energy regenerates over time. If it appears things are headed for a confrontation, we can expel his agents and be no worse for having them.”

Farrell waited for Darius to correct his prince, but the wizard kept silent. “Two reasons that is false. First, Meglar has a Source at his disposal. All the excess power his minions collect goes into feeding his power supply. I’ve never seen the limit of a Source, so while theoretically there is one, it is meaningless, given how high that number would be.

“Second, and perhaps more to your benefit, there are ways to collect all the unattached power and save it.”

Darius raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”

“Binding all the free energy in and around Belsport and siphoning it to one place. From there, your wizards can draw on it now or in the future.”

“The number of vessels needed to hold that much energy would be vast, unless we had a better storage system.” Darius’s hint was not lost on Farrell.

“Even if I knew how to create a Source, I wouldn’t reveal such knowledge.” Farrell let a small smile spread across his face. “But even without a Source, you have to admit, collecting Belsport’s unattached energy and making it available to your wizard constables carries enormous military advantages.”

“And,” Horgon chimed in, “would be extremely valuable.”

Wilhelm laughed. “Well put, Minister Horgon. You must have merchant blood in you. Would you give me a moment to consult with my wizard in private?”

“Of course.” Farrell led the others out of the formal sitting room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Erstad didn’t sound happy. “Giving them that knowledge could be disastrous.”

Glaring at his mentor, Farrell stifled a scathing retort. “I’m aware of the danger if this knowledge were to get out, but the consequence will matter very little if Meglar wins. I have no intention of telling them how to do it. I will simply set it up for them.”

Looking only slightly less angry, Erstad merely nodded. Rather than pursue the issue, Farrell reached out to Nerti. “Did you detect any deception or ulterior motives?”

“Despite the reputation of merchants, this man seems honest. Keeping Belsport safe is his true purpose for coming.”

Waving a finger, Farrell prevented his voice from carrying beyond the room. Without fear of being overheard, he shared Nerti’s observation with the others. The four quietly discussed what to do next until Wilhelm and Darius appeared in the doorway.

“What you suggest is of great interest to Belsport, and we would like to discuss further a mutually beneficial alliance,” Wilhelm said. “Since I forced you to cut your celebratory trip short, what would you say to finishing your vacation as my guests?”

Chapter 21

“MASTER
JARVIS.” Wilhelm’s voice startled the innkeeper and caused the two constables to jump in surprise. “The wizard and his partner will be guests at the Citadel while I sort this out. Send over their horses and any personal items found in the room.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man bowed deeply. “What of the balance on their account? They paid for two more nights.”

“They won’t be needing it.” Wilhelm’s brusque tone supported the charade they’d all agreed to maintain. “You may keep it for the trouble they’ve caused you.”

“My lord, they saved my life—” Jarvis snapped his mouth shut when the prince glared at him.

“If you don’t want the money, I’m certain the royal treasurer will be happy to collect a special levy from the Blue Marlin and its keeper.” Wilhelm kept his gaze locked on the man until Jarvis nodded.

“That won’t be necessary, my lord.” Jarvis dared a glance at Farrell, seeming to offer an apology for what had just happened.

Before anyone could speak again, Darius opened a Door to the Citadel. All pretense of being prisoners disappeared once the wizard closed the portal.

“Lord Farrell.” Wilhelm spun on his heel. “I fear, given the abrupt nature of your visit, that I cannot observe the proper protocols Belsport would normally afford one of your rank. I would, however, be honored if you two would join me and my family for dinner tonight. Darius will see you to your rooms. They will not be as opulent as the Prince’s Suite at the Blue Marlin, but I trust you’ll find them acceptable.”

Grinning at his guests, Wilhelm nodded once in dismissal and walked off.

As Darius led them to their rooms, he explained how centuries ago, Wilhelm’s ancestors founded Belsport with the construction of the Citadel. From its highest spires, lookouts could see miles in every direction, including out to sea, providing ample opportunities to marshal their defenses. Prince Wilhelm’s family had spent the better part of the last thirty-plus centuries expanding and fortifying the city.

“We occupied the westernmost point on the continent,” Darius explained. “Belsport is the first place for merchants to stop after crossing the Great Western Sea. Coupled with our well-protected harbor and ideal location with respect to the other free cities, merchants make Belsport the port of choice to base their overseas businesses.”

“Which creates great sums of wealth for the city and its ruling family,” Miceral quipped.

“And a fair bit of envy, I’d imagine,” Farrell added.

“Correct on both accounts.” Darius smiled, gesturing for them to head to the right. “Which is why Belsport built and maintains a formidable navy. I’m sure you’re familiar with how important that is to a trading city’s livelihood.”

Farrell noted something in the older wizard’s voice that made him uneasy. “Any ruler who engages in trade would be aware of the importance of a strong naval presence.”

“Indeed.” Darius nodded but didn’t continue the discussion.

As they walked down a long hallway, two teenage boys with dark hair, dressed in the livery of Belsport, approached and took Miceral’s and Farrell’s saddlebags. The pages led them up a long spiral staircase before stopping on a landing three-fourths of the way up. A few paces from the stairwell brought them to the only entrance visible in the hallway. The thick, dark-stained oak door was heavily carved and inlaid with gold leaf.

“These rooms are used only for visiting heads of state,” Darius said with a smile. “My favorites for their oversized balconies. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.”

The pages put the bags down and asked if Miceral and Farrell needed anything else. Miceral shook his head and reached in his pouch for some coins.

“Lord Miceral,” Darius said. “These lads are sons of our nobility or wealthy merchants. Unlike those who toil at the inn, they do not require nor is it appropriate to tip them.” Looking at the pair, Darius added, “Run along, lads. That’s all we require.”

Despite slightly disappointed looks, they exited, showing the proper respect due high-ranking guests.

“My apologies, Darius.” Miceral looked slightly embarrassed. “After our stay at the Blue Marlin, it has become second nature to tip those who are assisting us. I forgot we are in the prince’s palace.”

Darius’s expression changed in an instant. “Tell me, Farrell, what kingdom are you the prince of? Heminaltose was my friend for a great number of years, and I had been to Haven before you became lord and master. There never was a Prince of Haven until you came around. Which begs the question: Are you really a prince, and if so of what nation?”

Farrell paused for a moment to consider what answer he would give. Most people just assumed his family had been the rulers of Haven before they arrived. Before he could answer, Darius continued, “As I said, Heminaltose and I were friends, good friends in fact. The story about him killing the son of Meglar and Zenora is also known to me, but has no merit. I know my old friend. Heminaltose would sooner kill himself than kill a small child, even Meglar’s.”

The two wizards silently regarded each other for a long moment. “I met Prince Halloran when he was just about one year old. Zenora was visiting Heminaltose at Haven and so was I. You bear a resemblance to your father, though you do have much of Zenora in you as well. Looking at her picture in your sitting room helped me figure out who you reminded me of. Using the name Halloran at the Blue Marlin confirmed my suspicions. It would have been too great a coincidence.”

“Even Heminaltose marveled at your deductive skill, Darius. He used several of your textbooks in my education. I didn’t realize that they were your books until you mentioned visiting my old master. That too would have been too much of a coincidence.”

Miceral had been holding his breath since the exchange began but let it out slowly.

“As you can imagine, Darius, it is not well known that I’m the rightful Prince of Yar-del. My mother, grandfather, and Heminaltose felt it best that Meglar not know his son survived. They felt he would either attempt to abduct me or kill me had he known I lived. It was also believed that it could be beneficial to reveal my true heritage to him when we finally meet. It may give me an advantage. All of that is a long way of asking you to not reveal what you have deduced, not even to your prince. The fewer who know, the better kept the secret will remain.”

Darius nodded his assent. “From the moment I met your father, I disliked him. Arrogant and self-absorbed, he showed no respect for other wizards, not even Grand Masters Heminaltose or Sanduval. He felt he was superior to every other wizard alive, and I suppose in some measure he set about proving it. I’m told he was quite charming when he was courting your mother, but after they were joined, he was a most unlikable person, to say the least.”

“Less likable the more you get to know him.” Miceral’s remark drew a grin from Farrell.

“If you think you don’t like him now, wait until you meet him.” They all laughed.

“Fear not, Prince Farrell, your secret shall be kept safe. Not even Wilhelm will be told. Meglar’s threat is too great for us to squander any advantage we might have. If nothing else has come of this day, you have a new ally in your quest to stop your father. Wilhelm is a practical man and a wise ruler. He understands who his real enemy is and the danger Belsport faces long-term. We will, however, move slowly and tread carefully. Even if Meglar will not come at us directly, there are more than a few free cities that would gladly ignore the risk of an alliance with Meglar to conquer this city. Wilhelm understands this and must walk a narrow path to ensure our survival.

“But if by chance you can teach me how to bind all free energy to keep it from Meglar’s wizards, I think we would be better able to resist any threat from our neighbors or Meglar.”

“We can indeed discuss that along with other precautions you may employ. I have an idea for where you can store the extra power you collect. At Northhelm, I tried a new type of shielding for the first time. It proved quite effective at stopping Meglar in the short time it was used. If we tie the collection spells to the shield, it should be very effective at deterring Meglar.” Farrell would have continued, but Darius held up a hand to stop him.

“This is something the prince should hear, and since you have dinner plans with Prince Wilhelm, we can discuss it then.” He bowed politely and left the two alone.

As Darius promised, their room had several balconies that overlooked the city. Miceral marveled that he’d finally found a bed larger than Farrell’s. In addition, the suite had a sitting room, library, dining area complete with table and chairs for eight, a sunroom that had huge glass windows almost from floor to ceiling, two other bedrooms, each with a wash area and tub, and a monstrous bath chamber connected to the main bedroom.

Farrell poked his head out their main door to see if guards had been posted yet. Two stood at the entrance to the stairs. When they saw Farrell, they snapped to attention immediately. Farrell stepped out and walked toward them.

“Good day.” His smile did nothing to make them relax. “Can you find out what time Prince Wilhelm is expecting us for dinner? I would prefer not to keep him waiting if possible.”

“At once, Your Majesty,” the one closest to him said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I have an answer.”

A bit taken aback at being addressed as Your Majesty, Farrell recovered to thank the solider before heading back to the room. Miceral had unpacked a few things suitable for a state dinner and had already started to fill the tub. After staring at the ocean from the balcony for a few minutes, Farrell removed his tunic, intending to use the other bathtub. As he sat on the bed to remove his boots, he heard a knock.

Expecting the officer with an answer, he opened the door to be greeted by a well-dressed young woman. He blushed furiously as she eyed him up and down. “My apologies, I was expecting the guard and not… um, well, not you.” He tried to cover his embarrassment with a small laugh. “How may I help you?” He paused, hoping she would provide her name.

“My apologies. Prince Farrell?” When he nodded, she smiled. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. My father sent me to convey his regrets that he cannot meet for dinner. While he was in Haven, certain matters arose that demand his attention. Darius is with him now, and they expect to be working through the night. He requested that I fill in and entertain you both tonight.”

Farrell realized he was keeping her standing in the doorway like a servant. “Princess, forgive me. In my embarrassment, I forgot my manners. Please come in.” He stepped back to allow her to enter.

“Ral, make sure you’re dressed before you come out. Prince Wilhelm sent his daughter to give us his regrets.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Oh, and would you please remind me to stop answering the door with no shirt on? I’m rather tired of being embarrassed all the time.”

“But I like you shirtless.”

Farrell began to blush again.

“You’re making it worse.”

“My apologies, Princess. I never did get your name, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry. Seeing you shirtless made me forget my manners as well,” she said with a smile. “Alicia.”

Rather than continue his embarrassing breach of etiquette, he bowed quickly and started toward his room. “Forgive my rudeness, Princess. I’ll go find a shirt immediately.” He ignored her soft comment not to do so on her account. When he returned, he was still blushing, though not as badly as when he had left.

“Again, please accept my apologies. I was about to wash up, and I thought you were the guard coming to tell me when your father expected us for dinner.”

“Prince Farrell, it is I who should apologize to you. My comment was inappropriate. I know better than to say such things to a visiting prince, especially one celebrating his union ceremony. But if you don’t mind my saying, it was a very pleasant surprise you gave me. And please don’t blush again. I mean it as a compliment only. Not all princes who come here believe in staying fit and trim. Thankfully, I have never had to endure seeing them shirtless.”

Despite his best efforts, he blushed again, but he managed to retain his composure. “My thanks for the compliment, Princess. I appreciate you taking the time to come up here to see us and relay your father’s message. Let me say, although we would welcome the company, we don’t need to be entertained if you have somewhere you would rather be.”

“Prince Farrell, are you trying to get rid of me?” she asked in a light tone.

“If you persist in calling me Prince or Prince Farrell, I surely will. Farrell is quite sufficient, if you please.”

“Agreed, but only so long as you call me Alicia.”

“Deal.” He grinned at her.

“However, it’s no bother for me to show you around. In fact, it would be a delight. Usually, whenever I’m asked to handle entertaining a foreign dignitary, I’m left to worry about my virtue, especially from the older ones. It appears that the older, fatter, and more unattractive they are, the more they flirt and fawn over me.” They both laughed at this. “I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but knowing you both prefer men to women makes this quite a refreshing twist. I can be myself tonight and not worry either of you will take anything I say as a union proposal.” She smiled happily at her host. Miceral stepped into the room at this point, and she gave him the once-over. Unlike Farrell, Miceral did not embarrass easily.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was just ogled by a most beautiful woman. But since I’m sure you know I’m not available or inclined toward women, I must have been mistaken.”

If Miceral expected her to back down, she disappointed him. “Oh no, you were correct. I was eyeing you like a fine stallion. I was telling your partner it’s nice to know I can say what I really think and not expect my father will receive wedding proposals by morning.”

Miceral roared in delight. “Farrell, I like this one. She’s going to be good company.”

Farrell was less sure than his partner. He had visions of being the butt of more than a few lurid comments during the course of the evening. And to drive home this point, Alicia said, “I have to say, I don’t know which of you is luckier. Your joining is a double loss to the women of the world.”

Miceral bowed at the compliment; Farrell blushed. He excused himself to go get ready. Alicia and Miceral were chatting and laughing when Farrell found them on the balcony. “Hopefully my antics are not the reason you are both laughing.”

“Of course not,” she replied. “We were discussing other people whose antics were worthy of laughing at. You are far too sweet for us to make fun of.”

He felt his ears get red.

“Does he always blush so easily?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so. He’s very sensitive about it, however. He’s not terribly worldly and has a rather chivalrous view of things that is both refreshing and adorable.” Miceral’s “help” only made the situation worse.

“Fine, talk about me like I’m not here.”

“Farrell.” She reached over and touched his cheek gently. “I tease you in part because I’m jealous. You and Miceral are lucky men. It is rare that people of our station find true love and are allowed to act on it. Some of us have obligations we must adhere to. Although my brother, Peter, will inherit the throne, I expect I’ll be married off for political reasons.”

“I hope you are not subjected to such a fate, dear girl. It would be a shame for you to lose your spunk.” A wink and a smile punctuated Miceral’s comment.

“So far, my father is content to let me find someone I want to spend my life with. He’s in no hurry for me to join, as there is no one available who would benefit Belsport to the degree he would require. Thankfully, I command a rather high price in his eyes.”

“You are indeed a treasure that he should be willing to part with only for great compensation. I wish you well in your quest.”

“Enough. Let’s be off.” For a moment her smile looked forced, but it perked up. “I have the feeling we three are going to be great friends.”

They had dinner together in a small room off the main kitchen. The staff made themselves scarce when the trio ate or talked, but otherwise tended to their needs. Every course consisted of seafood, as befit a seafaring people. Farrell and Miceral gorged themselves on the excellent meal set before them, and neither accepted dessert. Farrell, however, quickly accepted the offer of coffee.

When dinner ended, Alicia led the pair out a side exit and down a path that led to the prince’s private beachfront. Her light and happy mood appeared more tempered as they walked along the water.

“What ails thee, pretty lady?” Miceral asked. “I hope it wasn’t something we said or did that makes you unhappy.”

“No, of course not. This was one of the most enjoyable nights I can remember. At the risk of offending you both, it was wonderful spending time with two very handsome and attractive men who were not secretly hoping to find a way to get me into their bed. I feel safe when I’m with you, on many levels. Being free to be myself is a tremendous feeling.”

“So then, what’s the problem?” Miceral reached for her hand and held it gently. “You’ve lost your vivacious spark.”

She gave them another forced smile, something Farrell noted she excelled at. “It’s hard to keep it out of my mind that you’ll both be gone in a day or two, and I’ll remain here and eventually join with whomever my father deems appropriate. Nice as it was to be myself, I know it’s as fleeting as a spring snow. “

“I know the burden of duty all too well,” Farrell said. “However, if your father is true to his heart, he will allow you to find someone you love to join with. Honorus granted me the chance to know what it’s like to be in love with someone who loves me back. He said it was a reward for all I had done and will do in His name. But I also believe He granted me this boon because of the power that flows from my bond with Miceral. I feel stronger knowing he’s there for me. We must hope you father recognizes that as well.”

“My father is a good man and a good father, but he is the Prince of Belsport first, and his first obligation is to the citizens of this city. He can only be but so lenient toward his headstrong daughter. I have garnered something of a reputation among the people as a spirited child. Spirited is a polite way for saying I’m out of control and an embarrassment to the family. Father hopes I’ll find love in the man I join with, but he will not let such a little thing stop him from arranging a union with someone I do not love if such a union benefited all of Belsport.

“Seeing the two of you together, it’s clear you truly love each other. It makes me hope for such a union for myself, but I fear I won’t be so fortunate.”

Farrell reached over and kissed her forehead. “There is much I could say which would serve as payback for the things you said to make me blush, but instead I’ll tell you this. The world is a large place, much larger than the free cities or even the Seven Kingdoms. See as much of it as you can. There are princes, nobles, and sons of wealthy merchants who have something to offer your father other than money—since it appears he has more of that than anyone I’ve ever met. Stay true to yourself, and soon enough you’ll meet the one you are destined to join with.”

“Perhaps you can persuade my father to let me go back to Haven with you. I’m certain there are enough eligible suitors among whom I can pick to find someone who is acceptable to my father.”

“I doubt your father would let you stay at Haven. It’s not an idyllic place at the moment. But”—he tried not to be too negative—“if you need a break from Belsport for a day or so, you’ll always be welcome.”

“Are you certain of that? I make no promises that I won’t say something to make you blush.”

Miceral laughed. “Then you are most assuredly welcome at Haven as my guest anytime you wish to come.” This drew a wicked gaze from Farrell.

“My partner seems to forget I can turn him into a croaking toad at any time. I can do the same to you, Princess, so have a care just how far you go.” Alicia looked over his shoulder and began to laugh.

“Forgive me, but Miceral isn’t taking your threat too seriously.”

He glared at Miceral until he couldn’t hold back a grin. “I surrender. What good is being a grand master wizard if everyone knows I won’t use my power against them when they insult me?”

Laughing, Alicia waved her hand dismissively. “Perhaps you should ask Meglar for lessons on being feared. No one would doubt him if he made a threat.”

All the mirth left his face. Even Miceral stopped laughing and looked hard at Alicia. Her mouth open, she seemed about to speak when Farrell forced a laugh.

“Meglar would be an excellent teacher. I just fear the price of his lesson would be too steep.”

“My apologies, Farrell. That was stupid of me. I’m sure, given your history, Meglar is not a laughing subject.”

“Not so. There are times when he can prove most amusing. Unfortunately, those are rarer than the times he is deadly serious. In any case, you need not fear. I’m not the evil man he is, even if I’m almost as dangerous. I’m far more likely to try to make you happy rather than make you sad.” With that he showed her his empty hand, palm upward. He waved it around quickly, closed his fingers, then slowly reopened them to reveal a small silver rose.

“Impressive, mighty wizard.” She smiled as she accepted what he offered.

“A small token of friendship.” He punctuated his words with a bow.

“A generous gift, Lord Farrell. I fear I do not deserve it after all the bawdy things I said to you.”

“On the contrary, Lady Alicia, I appreciate you being yourself and treating me as a friend rather than a ruler.” Some displaced monarchs treated him as neither, resulting in their being effectively banished to their own areas. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t try to make me blush all the time.”

A smirk crossed her lips, leaving him fearing the worst. “Telling someone not to do something is almost an invitation for them to do it.”

Farrell rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “So is asking you to keep doing it, so I am at your mercy.”

“Come as often as you like, Princess. Your presence would certainly improve the dour male-dominated world of Haven,” Miceral said. “But we should go back. I’m sure we’ll need to be up early, and Grand Master Sleepy is hard enough to rouse when he’s had plenty of rest.”

Farrell elbowed him but smiled anyway.

MORNING
FELT as though it had come too early when Farrell opened his eyes. Their bedroom at Haven had no windows, so neither had thought to close the drapes when they went to sleep. Despite facing west, the wall of windows behind their bed flooded the room with light.

Having the time, Miceral decided to restart their morning training. Farrell cleared the room and summoned their practice mat. Either he’d lost a step or Miceral forgot himself, because by midway through the session, he felt like a punching bag.

“I think it’s you,” Miceral said when Farrell asked about it. “The days off have caused you to slip.”

Not certain he agreed, Farrell redoubled his efforts, with marginal success.

Just before they finished, they heard a knock. Miceral looked at him, and Farrell shook his head.

“I didn’t put a spell on the door. Must have been Darius.” He wiped his face and started toward the entry.

“Don’t you want a shirt?” Miceral held out a tan tunic. “It’s probably Alicia.”

Shaking his head, he smirked at his partner. “She saw me without a shirt last night. What’s one more time?”

“Prince Farrell.” Alicia eyed him as she had the night before when he opened the door. “If I didn’t know you had a preference for big, strong, handsome warriors, I’d think you were trying to seduce me by always greeting me shirtless. You do look quite fetching, I must say, but it is wrong to tease an innocent girl, letting her see what she can never have.”

Her over-the-top protestation made him laugh hard enough that he didn’t feel embarrassed.

“My apologies, fair lady of pure virtue, but you have an uncanny habit of knocking when I’m shirtless. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you had a scrying spell set on our rooms.”

“I did have that thought, but Darius assured me there would be no way to peek in on a wizard as powerful as yourself.” Her laugh led him to believe she might be serious. “Great Goddess of the Ocean, Farrell, what happened to you? You’re covered in bruises.”

Miceral entered, wearing the tunic he’d offered Farrell. “His reflexes were a bit slower today than usual. I fear too much rich food and fine living have sapped some of his quickness.”

“Miceral fails to mention he’s many times stronger and faster than we mere humans.” Alicia stared at him blankly. Realizing she didn’t know what he meant, Farrell added, “Miceral is a Muchari.”

“Do legends never cease?” She stared at Miceral as if she could find the difference. “I always thought your kind were a myth. But if the stories are true, it’s a coin flip which of you will live longer.”

“Your information is true. I’m over a hundred years old, which makes me a terrible cradle robber.” Miceral rubbed Farrell’s back. “So, Princess, what brings you to our door this early?”

“A hope you were free to escort me around Belsport.” She bit her lip, raising her eyebrows slightly. “Father said I could go with only a pair of guards instead of the usual ten if you two accompany me.”

“How could we decline the services of such a knowledgeable guide as yourself?” Miceral winked at his partner. “Give us a moment to clean up.”

Farrell bowed his head and made for the bath.

“It would be best if you don’t bathe together. We need to be back in time for dinner.”

He rolled his eyes at Miceral, feeling his face get hot.

Miceral smirked, then poked his head around the corner. “I believe you need to give me lessons. Farrell is an amazing shade of crimson.”

Farrell considered tossing a ball of water at him but decided to wait until they were alone.

WILHELM,
ACCOMPANIED by Darius, met them on their way into the city.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m imposing on you to guard my daughter,” he said after he gave Alicia a hug. “Between the two of you, I’m confident she is safer than if I sent an entire company.”

“You honor us with your trust.” Farrell bowed his head slightly. “We’ll be certain to return her safely.”

“I’ve no doubts.” He motioned to his guards and moved off.

Alicia showed them her favorite shops, stopping along the way to buy things for her guests. At a chocolate shop, she bought them a large bag of various sweets to bring home and a smaller bag to enjoy on their walk. Farrell offered some to the guards, who looked to Alicia for approval before accepting.

“You will spoil them if you keep this up,” she said when they had put a few feet of distance between them and her escort.

“Nonsense. I treat all my people the same.” Farrell opened the bag so she could take a piece. “They enjoy the same pleasures as we do, only they have less ability to afford it. A small gift lets them know they are appreciated and not invisible.”

The princess walked in silence as she led them to their next stop. Before their day ended, she bought them smoked fish, fine cheeses, and even a few pastries. At the bakery, she asked her guards what they would like before going in. She seemed pleased by their reaction, giving Farrell a nod and a smile before they moved on.

After the food shops, they visited several tailors, a tanner, and a cobbler. They declined her offer to purchase them new clothing, with Miceral explaining how they already had two closets full. At the tanner’s shop, Farrell bought Miceral a new sword belt inlaid with gold, silver, and semiprecious gems. “For formal state occasions,” he told his new partner when Miceral began to object.

Before they entered the cobbler’s shop, Alicia informed them that she was buying them new boots. The woman in the front of the shop bowed several times before scurrying into the back. A moment later she returned with a middle-aged man in a thick leather apron. He wiped his discolored hands several times on his front as if that would remove a lifetime of dye. He quickly took Farrell’s and Miceral’s measurements, discussed styles and color, and promised the finished goods within a week.

While Alicia settled the tab for their boots, Farrell and Miceral went to the back of the shop to select new boots for Horgon, Lisle, Erstad, Wesfazial, and Cylinda. Remembering the work Glendora put into their ceremony, Farrell added a pair of new shoes for the priestess.

Miceral’s eyes went wide when he saw the total, but Farrell quickly paid the bill. “You forget your new status as consort to the prince.” He looked down his nose, doing his best not to smirk.

Miceral reacted exactly as he hoped, eliciting a laugh from Alicia.

“You were owed that, Miceral,” she said. “Instead of turning you into a toad, he has relegated you to concubine status.”

With the sun beginning its descent, they stopped at a small shop along the water for coffee and a light snack. Although the guards were not able to sit and join the trio, Alicia made certain they had a chance to order something as well. The pair seemed more attentive and protective as the day wore on, something Alicia commented on to her friends.

“It is as Farrell said.” Miceral shrugged. “They feel less like servants and more like valued employees. You cannot do their job, and you’re letting them know they provide you with a valued service. Feeling appreciated makes it easier for them to be personally invested in your safety.”

“But won’t this just create an expectation from any who guard me? How do I know those who clamor for the assignment aren’t just doing it in hopes of small favors?”

“You can never know for certain, but how often will you be out in the city buying things versus in the Citadel or some other building and require a guard?” Farrell asked. “A kind word, an inquiry into their needs, a moment to make sure they’re provided food and drink—these are not gifts so much as an acknowledgment of them as a person. You don’t need to overdo it. If paying their wages doesn’t make them loyal, a few baubles certainly won’t. Just remember to treat them like people instead of statues.”

When the sun began to head rapidly for the western horizon, they left the café for the palace. As they prepared to leave, Farrell spoke to the proprietor about the purchase of an exceptionally large quantity of the fine coffee they served. He felt good about his deal as he rejoined the other two.

“My purse may be considerably lighter, but I finally have a firm agreement to provide me with all the coffee I want. Lisle won’t need to ration my supplies anymore.”

Miceral stopped walking. “What are the terms of your agreement?”

“Who cares what the terms were?” He waved his hand dismissively. “What matters is I won’t run out ever again.”

Alicia and Miceral looked at each other. His partner shook his head while the princess laughed. “We know who has the head for business in this pairing.”

Despite his buoyant mood, Farrell realized he’d done something wrong. Reluctantly, he gave them the details of the deal.

“Fortunately, he didn’t sign a firm agreement for quantity and price,” Alicia said to Miceral. “You’re under no obligation to purchase anything from that thief of a merchant.”

“Now, Princess, it’s not fair to insult the man for taking advantage of a simple country boy. He did nothing more than offer a high price from which to begin negotiations. You can’t blame him that Farrell accepted his price without bargaining.” Miceral’s answer ruined Farrell’s good mood.

“A good point. Unfortunately, his willingness to take advantage of a ‘simple’ buyer has run afoul of more shrewd negotiators.” She shook her head, avoiding Farrell’s sour expression. “His shop will see no sales at such outrageous prices.”

Farrell followed glumly. He understood his mistake but didn’t enjoy having it rubbed in his face. Miceral slipped his hand into Farrell’s and drew it to his lips.

“I’ll make it my personal mission to find you a better bargain, or I’ll go back to that shop and buy as much as I can carry at the price you agreed on.”

Farrell perked up a bit at his partner’s promise but still felt a bit foolish.

Alicia grabbed his other hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Don’t be so glum. Just as we cannot all be mighty wizards, we cannot all be skilled negotiators. I’m certain Miceral can make good on his promise, and you will have a fuller purse and a better bean to brew.”

Farrell found it hard to resist their attempts to cheer him up, and before they reached the Citadel, he’d put his disappointment behind him. Alicia’s guards took a moment to thank her for her generosity before returning to their company. She smiled at them until they moved out of sight.

“I’ll see that a page comes for you a bit before you’re expected for dinner. You have some time to relax, but I’d recommend you not get too distracted.” Without waiting to see if she got a reaction from her words, she turned and walked off.

Chapter 22

MICERAL
ADJUSTED the back of Farrell’s tunic as they followed the page into the empty dining room.

Farrell waited for the teen to leave before speaking. “Was that necessary? It’s not a formal state dinner.”

Miceral shook his head. “You really didn’t handle the state functions, did you?”

Grinning, Farrell reached out for his partner’s hand. “As few as possible.”

Connected by their hands, they walked around the large room, admiring the artwork. Staff set food and drink on a sideboard, but the pair continued their exploration.

“Thirty centuries of seafaring has brought the prince’s house more than a few interesting items.” Darius’s voice drew their attention to the doorway.

Before they could respond, Alicia arrived, accompanied by a teenager who could only be her brother.

“Your Highnesses.” Darius bowed, earning a nod from Alicia and a small glare from her brother.

The princess walked toward their guests, her brother in tow. “Farrell, Miceral, this is my brother, Peter.”

“My sister tells me you’re a ruling prince, and he is your life partner?” Peter’s gaze went from Farrell to Miceral and back.

Farrell saw sadness in the younger man’s eyes, but also something else he couldn’t name. “Correct on both counts.”

“Peter!” his sister hissed. “That is hardly the way to address our guests.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He bowed to Farrell. “I meant no disrespect, but when my sister introduced you by just your names, I wanted to be certain I had your titles correct.”

“You may call us Miceral and Farrell if you like.” Farrell smiled, trying to make the young prince relax. “Had you the chance to join your sister for our trip into the city, you would know I’m not big on titles.”

“In Belsport we are.” His polite tone sounded almost regretful.

“My brother dislikes formal state dinners.” Alicia shrugged slightly and led them toward the food and drink. “Nothing I said could convince him this would be different. Unfortunately, since our mother died, he’s been withdrawn and doesn’t let anyone get close. Father hoped time would help, but there’s been little change since Mother’s death.”

Peter glared at her. “Perhaps if you stopped speaking about me as if I weren’t here, I would be a bit more pleasant.”

“My sympathies, Prince Peter.” Farrell used his title since Peter didn’t say otherwise. “I lost my parents when I was only a bit older than you. I understand that time only helps but so much.”

“You think your loss makes you an expert on my feelings?” For a moment Farrell thought the teen might cry. “Should I bare my soul to you because you shared your loss with me?”

For the first time since Farrell met her, Alicia looked angry. Glaring at her brother, she moved to stand in front of him. “If Father heard you speak to our guests like this, you’d be in serious trouble.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter evaded his sister’s gaze. “What would he do? Banish me from this dinner I don’t want to attend?”

“Perhaps I might, but it’s what I’d do later that should have you worried.” Wilhelm stood in the doorway, eyes tight and trained on his son.

Peter dropped his gaze and moved toward Miceral and Farrell. “Please accept my apologies, Lord Farrell. I was inexcusably rude.”

Holding out his hand, Farrell waited for Peter to look up. “If you get to know me better, you’ll realize I might have said worse if the situation was reversed.”

Only when Peter tentatively clasped forearms did Farrell give him a conspiratorial wink. The corners of Peter’s mouth flirted with a smile before he suddenly winked back. He cast a tentative glance at his father, who gave him the barest of nods to end the situation.

STAFF
CLEARED away the remains of dinner, while others brought out coffee, liquor, and desserts. The variety of fish dishes brought back memories of Farrell’s youth in Yar-del, but he managed to enjoy all three helpings.

“Convey my compliments to your chef,” he said. “I don’t recall when I enjoyed a meal that much.”

“During the meal, I received an urgent plea from my chef to take away your utensils.” Wilhelm shrugged as the others laughed. “He ignored my warnings about your appetite and was in danger of running out of food.”

Used to being chided for the amount he ate, Farrell laughed as well. “If my chefs at Haven were that good, I’d be in danger of getting fat, wizard or not.”

Wilhelm stood up and selected a crystal decanter holding an amber liquor. After pouring a generous amount into a short-stemmed snifter, he held the bottle out to the others. “Brandy? It’s quite excellent.” Only Darius accepted, and the prince poured another for his chief advisor. “Please, help yourselves to whatever you desire. I had this coffee specifically selected for you, Farrell. If you like it, I’ll have a wagonload sent to Haven.”

Shooting Alicia a frown, Farrell moved to where the coffee sat ready. “Alicia told you about my exploits in the market, did she?”

“In fairness to my daughter, she has the heart of a merchant.”

“So I learned today.” Farrell’s sour expression turned to a smile when he took a sip. “Then again, if she saved me from buying the other beans so I could get these, I owe her a debt of gratitude.”

“It pained me to deflate his good mood.” Alicia’s fake sympathy drew another scowl. “But when I learned the terms of his ‘deal,’ I knew I had to step in. The price for what the merchant offered to sell Prince Farrell was nothing short of robbery.”

“How can you say that?” Miceral joined Farrell, nudging him gently. “It’s not that merchant’s fault Farrell jumped at his first offer.”

“Are you two finished?” Spinning, Farrell walked away from his partner. “The quality was better than the stuff I get now, and the price was lower. I thought I was getting a great deal. It’s clear I need to speak to my steward and find out why I’m paying so much for something so average.”

“Perhaps we can work something into a broader trade agreement between our two nations.” Wilhelm’s light tone did nothing to allay Farrell’s suspicions his host had more in mind than just trade. “Were you to import large quantities for sale in Haven, you would add considerably to your treasury.”

“Careful, Farrell.” Miceral’s voice in his mind nearly caused him to jump. “I’ll bet my sword arm this is the real reason for tonight’s dinner.”

Smiling over his cup as if Miceral hadn’t spoken to him, Farrell nodded. “I’ll be sure to bring it up with Horgon when we return.”

“Of course.” Wilhelm returned the nod. “Darius informs me you are close to lands with superior timber and other resources, such as iron and other metals. A steady supply of quality timber would be of great interest to Belsport.”

“I can see how that would be the case.” Farrell chose his words carefully. “Negotiating a broader trade agreement, however, might prove more difficult than you expect.”

“Why?” Taking a sip from his glass, Wilhelm reminded Farrell of the old merchants who used to bicker with his mother during court session.

“To understand why, you need to understand the oddity that is Haven. As a collection of refugees from the conquered kingdoms, there are craftsman and artisans from five different nations. We have five sets of blacksmiths, coopers, cobblers, tanners, tailors, cheese makers, and every other profession that make goods for sale to a demanding populace. Craftsmen are able to peddle their wares anywhere in Haven. This of course played havoc on the merchant and artisan class.”

Another sip and the prince raised an eyebrow. “Interesting, I hadn’t considered that the once-insular local blacksmith would suddenly have to compete with so many others.”

Farrell nodded. “You see the problem. The more ambitious and enterprising merchants were able to grow wealthy at the expense of those who clung to the old notion that each village needed its own set of every craftsmen. If I were to import products of superior quality from you, it would only further reduce the lot of those already suffering from the increased competition of so many rival artisans.”

“It is admirable that you seek to protect your people as you do, but here is the counterargument to that.” Wilhelm smiled, clearly in his element. “Free trade would force those with inferior skills to seek employment elsewhere, either in a new profession or to join the shops of superior tradesmen here at Belsport or beyond. Some could act as your middlemen. Others could find a niche catering to those who cannot afford the higher quality goods we offer. Free trade would enhance more lives than it would damage, as all would have access to superior products.”

“I told you this would happen,” Miceral said.

Farrell ignored his partner. “Prince Wilhelm, all you say might be true, but as I warned you, negotiating a trade agreement with Haven means dealing with five different people. Lord Horgon has a keener mind for these issues. He would be the one to handle the details.”

Smirking, Wilhelm nodded to Darius. “Darius told me you wouldn’t negotiate this yourself, but I felt I should try anyway.”

Wilhelm’s admission reminded Farrell they might be on friendly terms, but Belsport’s prince had no qualms about taking advantage of him if he could.

“I see my remark troubles you,” Wilhelm said, studying Farrell’s face.

“Troubles is the wrong word, Prince Wilhelm. It reminds me friendships end where duty begins.” Farrell knew his words bordered on an insult, but he didn’t appreciate the attempt to maneuver him into an unfavorable agreement.

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened for a brief moment before a practiced smile crossed the older man’s face. “Well said. My apologies. It is often said merchants can be friends or partners but never both.”

“Allies are both,” Miceral added.

“Agreed, Lord Miceral.” Wilhelm let out his breath louder than normal, and he looked across the table to Darius. From the corner of his eye, Farrell saw the gray-haired wizard nod. The silent signal seemed to be enough for Wilhelm to continue. “Yesterday, you mentioned helping us with shielding and energy collection. Are you still willing to discuss those topics, or did you want them to be part of a broader trade agreement?”

Never looking over, Farrell reached out mentally to Miceral. “I don’t see any reason not to talk about it, do you? My plan was to give it to them at no cost.”

“Then their trader mentality is going to net us a tidy sum for your skills.” Miceral’s mental voice held a hint of glee.

Turning to Darius first, Farrell noted the anxiety in the man’s body language. “I see no harm in discussing the theoretical workings of magic.”

A soft sigh from Peter drew an angry glare from the prince. “My son’s lack of interest aside, I’m pleased you are so inclined.”

“Prince Wilhelm,” Miceral said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Should we move beyond a general discussion, this knowledge will not be cheap. Rare objects are always costly.”

“Perhaps—” Wilhelm stared into his snifter before taking a sip. “—if you let Farrell explain what he proposes, Darius and I can better value what is offered.”

“Keep the specifics to a minimum,” Miceral said before Farrell could speak.

“Darius, could you create an image of the city, including the harbor, on the table?” Farrell asked. After a moment of concentration, Darius transformed the top of the table into a scale model of Belsport, including the moat.

“Excellent.” Farrell removed a small wand from his pocket and stood. “Typically, shields are limited to individuals given the power needed to maintain them. For larger areas, such as cities, wizards band together to create and maintain the protective wall. Obviously, the larger the area, the greater the power required.” He saw nods of understanding from around the table.

Waving the slim piece of wood, he created the image of a half globe encasing the city. “A shield is weakened when someone applies force against it. The greater the force used, the greater the drain on the power that created the shield. If enough force is applied, the supply of energy available to maintain the shield cannot be replenished fast enough and the shield collapses.” He projected an attack on the shield, and the shimmering wall disappeared with a flash.

Peter, despite seeming bored a moment ago, had moved closer to the model and gasped along with his sister when the shield dispersed. Farrell’s wink brought a smile to the teen’s face as he moved even closer.

“Generating a shield by means of some object is called artificial shielding.” Another quick movement and a beam of light erupted from the center of the model, renewing the protective dome. “The drawback to this method is the inability to judge the remaining strength accurately and to shore it up as needed.”

This time when the shield exploded, Peter grinned at Farrell.

“It seems you have my son’s undivided attention,” Wilhelm said, smiling at his guest.

“The first shield I tried at Northhelm, I infused a piece of Cytus wood with enough energy to generate a strong shield.” Tapping the table, he raised a third shield, green this time, to surround the image of the city. “It was able to draw energy from its surroundings, giving it a bit more life. Eventually, Meglar overwhelmed this shield by hurling massive balls of concussive energy across thousands of miles while his wizards attacked from the ground.”

Two sizzling black balls appeared from his outstretched hand, and the shield shattered a third time.

“He destroyed that shield all the way from Zargon?” Darius’s wide eyes focused on the “city” before him.

“No.” Farrell shook his head. “He tried for two days to defeat it from Zargon, without success. Only when he sent some of his more senior wizards to coordinate an attack did the shield finally fail.”

“Couldn’t you… make it stronger?” Peter turned from the model to Farrell.

“That’s a problem with most artificial shielding. Once it’s in place, you can’t strengthen it without turning it off.” Farrell noted Darius’s questioning stare.

“Just before the first shield exploded, I erected a second, more powerful one.” This time he didn’t add a new shield to the image.

“What he’s not telling you,” Miceral cut in, “is that if it didn’t work, he’d have died.”

“The idea was sound, and the need was great, so I used it. And, as Miceral said, it worked quite well. With a few modifications, that is what I’m offering Belsport.”

He moved his wand to create numerous dots of light around the city. “The new shield would be created from multiple energy streams around the city. Each spot would have a large stone infused with energy that would generate a stream of power slightly different from the other points.”

Farrell waved his hand, and all the points erupted into fountains of energy that came together directly above the center of the city. From where the beams met, a dome of multicolored energy cascaded down to enclose Belsport.

“That’s quite impressive”—Darius sounded skeptical—“but ignoring how strong it would be, the power demands to raise a shield of that size would be prohibitive.”

Smiling at the older wizard, Farrell turned off the display. “Forget everything you think you know about artificial shield creation. This is different. Once this is properly powered, you would need a Source and at least one grand master wizard working with a cadre of master wizards to even try to breach this shield.”

Pointing at the city image, Farrell recreated the energy streams, keeping them halfway to their apex. “By modulating the energy in each stone and merging them into one beam, I get a shield that’s not only stronger by several factors, it also regenerates.”

Darius stood up and walked partway around the table. “In theory, I understand most of what you propose, but that’s very high magic indeed.”

Farrell nodded. “Very. Each of those beams has to be kept separate until all are melded together at the end. That is the hardest part.”

“Harder than making sure each beam is slightly different from the next?” Darius asked.

“Much harder.” He knew Darius wanted to hear more, but even if Farrell obliged, he wasn’t sure the older wizard would understand. “The other difficulty is powering a shield of this magnitude. Even using all the stored power of every wizard in Belsport, that might last you a day, two at most, depending on how determined the attack is.

“To supply the needed power, I propose capturing as much free power in and around Belsport as you can. Collect it in a central location, and transfer the power in equal amounts to each regenerating point. Slowly, over time, these would amass enough energy that no one would be able to overpower it. At least not using conventional means.”

Seated back in his chair, Wilhelm raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you know a way to breach this shielding.”

“Of course. I would be a poor wizard to create something I couldn’t defeat myself. But for your purposes it matters little. If I create your shield, I’ll always have access to it.”

“Always?” Wilhelm sat forward as Farrell nodded. “Meaning this shield is practically impervious to everyone except you.”

“Correct.” Farrell let the shield spring to life again. “It can’t be helped. Ask Darius to explain it when you discuss my proposal.”

Wilhelm glanced to his wizard, who nodded briefly. “I appreciate the honesty and will raise it later.”

“Can we go back to how to power the shield?” Darius asked. “You said we should collect all the free energy, but you also said, even if we used everything we have stored right now, it wouldn’t last two days. If I understand you correctly, what you propose would require every wizard in Belsport to spend much of their day collecting and turning over energy.”

“No, that’s not what I’m suggesting.” He turned off the shield and expanded the size of the model. “Master Sanduval created a collection spell that can be laid over vast areas. It’s time-consuming and tedious, but in the end, you can capture all the free energy in your city and use it to power the shield.”

“Impossible!” The older wizard shook his head vigorously. “At best, the spell dissipates when the wizard leaves the area, but unless you’re in an energy-rich area, it takes more energy to cast and maintain the spell than you gain.”

“Suffice it to say, Master Sanduval and I solved those problems.” Farrell turned his attention back to the model and created a weblike grid on the ground. It stretched beyond the walls and into the water. When he looked up, Darius still stared at him expectantly.

“Master Darius.” Wilhelm sounded more amused than annoyed. “It’s clear he isn’t including that information in his offer.”

“No disrespect, my prince, but it’s no laughing matter.” Darius looked almost horrified. “If Grand Master Farrell can do what he said, it will create massive upheaval among wizards and in the world at large.”

“Which is why I’m not sharing this knowledge.” Farrell turned from Darius to Wilhelm. “What Darius said is correct, and it’s something else for you both to discuss when we’re finished. But it raises another point. The collection spell will only last until your shield is properly powered. After that, the spell will dissolve and you’ll be forced to recharge it the old-fashioned way—wizards will need to feed it energy.”

“Who decides what’s properly powered?” Wilhelm asked. “That rather vague wording is a merchant’s worst nightmare.”

Laughing, Farrell poured himself more coffee. “How long it remains on is something we can negotiate. But as Darius will explain, the longer it’s on, the longer your wizards will be unable to gather their own power. They will be dependent on you for their energy. While that might seem ideal from a monarch’s point of view, it’s not optimal for attracting talented wizards.”

“Really?” Peter shrunk when all eyes turned to him. “Sorry, Father. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“No, if you have a question, you should voice it.” Wilhelm smiled at his son. “I’m pleased to see you this interested.”

“What was your question, Prince Peter?” Farrell took a long pull on his drink.

“Well… it seems to me that if Father has all the energy gathered into one place, there’s a steady supply for whoever is working for the crown.” Peter stared at his water glass. “Of course, I’m not a wizard so I’m probably mistaken.”

“It’s a fair observation.” When Peter looked up, Farrell gave him a smile. “The reason wizards wouldn’t find it appealing is someone else is doling out their power. Losing one’s independence wouldn’t be worth not having to collect energy.”

Nodding to his son, Wilhelm drained his glass. “What else can you tell us about this shield before we retire to consider your offer?”

Before Farrell answered, he wanted Miceral’s opinion. “They don’t seem interested. Did I do that bad a job explaining it?”

“Wilhelm isn’t going to let you know how much he wants what you’re selling.” Miceral barely looked over his cup at Farrell. “Remember, he’s a merchant, and they hold their cards close to their tunic when they’re negotiating. Just give him all the basics, and I’ll do the rest.”

Now he understood. Loudly exhaling, he flicked his wrist to extinguish his additions to the model. “Prince Wilhelm, I grew up among the merchants of Yar-del, so the art of bargaining is not foreign to me. Don’t think what we do here is lost on me. This is like no other transaction ever made. It’s not a want, like a rare jewel or exquisite piece of art that you ache for but can live without if you must. And unlike food or a cure to a plague, there are no other sellers you can turn to that will drive the price down. You want and need this, and there is no one else who has it.

“If you want me to aggrandize what I’m offering you, I can’t. I’m a terrible merchant, as my attempt to buy coffee demonstrates.” He turned toward Alicia, earning a smile in return. “But a small, hastily constructed version of this type of shielding, created with limited power, thwarted attacks that would have ripped apart even the strongest shield. This one will be stronger, much stronger. It will do what has never been done before: securely shield an entire city indefinitely without taxing the defending wizards.”

“Even from a wizard as powerful as Meglar?” Wilhelm stared at him.

“A good question.” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he shrugged. “Probably not, but even he would need time to defeat this shield. While he was attacking your shield, you could engage him with impunity. Like personal shields, this one allows those behind it to attack their opponents.”

Wilhelm glanced toward his chief wizard, and Farrell noted a barely perceptible nod. “Assuming you can prove the strength of the shield and if we agree on the price, Belsport would be interested in what you offer.”

“I would think, Prince Wilhelm,” Miceral said, drawing attention from his partner, “what Farrell laid out is something Belsport would be keenly interested in obtaining.”

Wilhelm laughed. “Trying to stake out a superior position for pending negotiations? As I said, if what Farrell described is true, Belsport would like to negotiate the terms of a purchase.”

“Having seen the smaller, less powerful shield in person, I’m certain it will meet your criteria.” Miceral nodded politely. “Just be prepared that it will not come cheap.”

“Actually, Lord Wilhelm,” Farrell said, avoiding Miceral’s eyes. “I’m prepared to give you a good deal on this, if you want it. I’m less concerned with winning the negotiation than with helping safeguard Belsport from Meglar’s attacks. If you wish to resolve negotiations quickly and amicably, make me a fair offer and we can be done with this.” Noting the mild disappointment on Wilhelm’s face, he shrugged. “Of course, if haggling over the price is a source of pleasure for you, make an unacceptable offer and we can resort to trying to squeeze all we can for my services.”

Wilhelm smirked at the younger man. “You take some of the fun out of the deal with your offer. Sometimes the journey is more enjoyable than the outcome.”

“That’s true, but in truth, the game is still afoot. I know this shield is worth every coin in your treasury. And I know you know that too, or you will soon enough. The trick for you is to make a fair bid—one that satisfies me that you appreciate what I offer. If your proposal is insulting, we will bargain in earnest, likely costing you far more than necessary. If you want a challenge, then spend your time determining how little I’ll accept without making it so low that you trigger a long, protracted, and costly bargaining session.”

“For one who professes to lack a merchant’s skill, Prince Farrell, you’ve hedged me neatly into a corner.” Inclining his head, Wilhelm smiled broadly. “Well played. After Darius and I and my other advisors have a chance to consider your proposal, I’ll give you my answer and perhaps my best, fairest offer.”

“Of course.” Farrell chanced a glance at his partner, who tried, but failed, to suppress a smile.

“Now if you will excuse me, I must go.” Wilhelm stood, followed quickly by the others. “Peter, since you paid such close attention, I think you should join us when we discuss the merits of this deal.”

A mixture of excitement and dread crossed the young prince’s face. “Of… of course, Father.”

Wilhelm left without another word, followed closely by Darius. Alicia circled the table and stopped in front of her brother.

“Well done, Squirt.” Her playful punch on his arm earned her a glare from Peter. “It takes a lot to impress Father, but you did great. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

Spinning from the prince, she arched her brow at Farrell. “I can’t believe you played me for a fool like that. ‘Oh, who cares about terms, I just want the coffee.’ You knew I’d report back to my father, didn’t you?”

Miceral snickered. “We suspected. Your ‘invitation’ was a bit sudden, especially for a princess.”

“Well played, both of you.” Her smile told Farrell he hadn’t heard the last of this topic. “I’ve never seen Father outnegotiated, let alone cornered like that. Not asking for full or fair value, but only a fair offer, was a masterful move. Tomorrow should be interesting.”

A bit ashamed he’d deceived the princess during their outing, Farrell stared at the tile floor. “Truth is, I didn’t try to maneuver your father onto a cliff. I simply wanted to shorten the negotiations. Funny how just trying to be fair got me more than I expected.”

Peter laughed. “There’s an old adage I’ve heard ships’ captains say many times: ‘Never bargain with an honest man.’ Now I know why.”

Chapter 23

HORGON
ENTERED Farrell and Miceral’s suite in the Citadel grinning broadly. He set his papers on the table, helped himself to a goblet of watered wine, drained it, and poured a second glass. “Negotiating is thirsty business.”

Farrell smiled. “One moment. I’ll get Miceral. I think he’s on the other side of the tower.”

Clearing the table of other items, he sent his thoughts to his partner. “Your father is back.”

“Be right there.”

“Things went that well?” Farrell asked. “You were smiling like we’d managed to empty Belsport’s treasury.”

“No, sorry, we didn’t do quite that well.” Horgon continued to smile as he leafed through his papers. “I wouldn’t say we got the better of them, just that it was amusing.”

Amusing didn’t sound like successful negotiating to Farrell. “Did we at least do well?”

“The Six, yes.” The older man spun a sheet of paper around. “I’ll go over the terms when Miceral gets here.”

“I’m here.” Shirtless, Miceral had a light sheen of sweat over his torso. “But I need to get a clean shirt, if you can wait.”

Farrell snapped his hand toward the table and a blue tunic, still folded, appeared in front of Miceral. “There, now we don’t have to wait.”

“Anxious?” Miceral smirked before pulling the shirt on.

Farrell picked up the paper and scanned it, trying to make sense of the numbers. “Your father said things were amusing, but we did well.”

Horgon took the page back. “Wilhelm came to the table looking immensely pleased with himself. Then he gave me this.” Waving the sheet, he started to chuckle again. “The centerpiece of their offer is one gold and two silver coins for every pound of stone used to create the shield.”

Smiling, Farrell understood Horgon’s reaction. “Darius is a tricky old bastard.”

“Darius?” Miceral brought over the pitcher of water and two glasses. “Didn’t Father say Wilhelm handled the trade?”

“Yes, but this came from Darius.” Still amused, Farrell motioned for Horgon to give him back the offer sheet. “The size of the stones affects the shield, and Darius knows that. If I choose larger stones to up our fee, I provide Belsport with a more powerful shield. If Belsport offers smaller ones to save money, they limit the effectiveness of their protection.”

“They said repeatedly, you told them to make a fair offer,” Horgon said. “They seemed to think this would satisfy you.”

“Let me guess. Wilhelm felt he’d won.” Farrell shook his head. “But it was creative.”

“And fair.” Miceral chuckled at his joke.

“Can I send back that we accept?” Horgon handed Farrell a pen. “I kept the page waiting for our response.”

“That sure I’d agree, were you?” Farrell glanced up before signing the paper. Wiggling his finger, he conjured a dollop of wax next to his name, followed by Heminaltose’s seal for Haven. “Given how much this will cost them, I think we did quite well.”

“I agree.” Scanning the sheet, Horgon nodded. “Everyone feeling like they won made these negotiations very easy. Oh, one item I think you overlooked.”

Following Horgon’s finger to a line near the bottom, Farrell saw what he’d missed. “A lifetime supply of coffee? Did you point out to the prince I might live for a thousand years?”

Horgon stifled a laugh. “Keep reading.”

“I have to provide a lifetime of repairs, should they be needed.” Farrell rolled his eyes. “As if there will be a need for any repairs.”

“Wilhelm thought himself most clever.” Horgon disappeared out the door and returned half a minute later. “Everything about the deal was almost half-comedy. We get ten pounds of fish, beef, and chicken for every stone for as many years as there are stones. Everything was tied to the finished product.”

“Considering I’d have given it to them for free, I guess we acquitted ourselves well.”

Horgon nodded. “You did. Now get washed and changed. There’s a state dinner to celebrate the new accord.”

Farrell stifled a groan when he heard “state dinner.” He had no choice, given the occasion, but that didn’t mean he wanted to attend.

“Oh, before you go, Farrell.” Horgon pulled another sheet of paper from the pile. “We agreed to set up a trading company controlled in equal shares by both you and Wilhelm’s house.”

“How did you manage that?” Farrell smiled as he read the page. “I thought for sure he’d balk at the idea, given how his merchant class is likely to react.”

“The crown buys most of the timber and raw materials used in Belsport and sells it for a minimal profit.” Horgon motioned for him to keep reading. “If merchants don’t want to sell the Royal Trading Company items for sale in Haven, they can miss out on the sales. Same with our people. All raw materials from Haven will pass through the joint entity.”

“Excellent job, Fa—Horgon.” Farrell frowned at the near slip, focusing on signing the document. When he brought the paper up, Horgon stared at him. The edge of his lips curled up.

“Thank you, son.” A wink later, he collected his papers and moved to his room in their suite.

THE
TIME after a meal when everyone made small talk always frustrated Farrell. Given his station and age, he found it hard to relate to others at most functions. He noticed Horgon sitting with Wilhelm, and from what he heard in passing, they were discussing their common experience being widowers. Miceral, always at ease around others, entertained Alicia, Peter, and Darius with a lively story that had them all amused. Rather than find a place to fit in, Farrell moved to the balcony to take in the sea-tinged air.

“Prince Farrell.” He jumped when Peter called his name.

Though more than a decade older than the teen, he bowed politely to show proper manners. “Hello, Your Highness. What brings you away from the others?”

Peter’s face lost most of its color, and he swallowed loudly. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Peter stood rooted to the spot, looking anywhere but at Farrell. “You’re not disturbing me, especially not when I’m invading your home.” When Peter looked up, Farrell motioned for him to join him. “I’m not very good at mingling, so I decided to come outside.”

Moving closer, Peter reminded Farrell of himself at that age. Tall, gangly, a hint of facial hair—enough to show, but hard to shave. His hair showed the effects of the sun, typical of youth in port cities.

“I had hoped to talk to you alone.” Twisting back the way he’d come, Peter scrunched up his face when he noted the others in earshot. “But there isn’t enough privacy anywhere in this room.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow, or do you need me to”—Farrell waved his hand in tight circles in front of his face—“do something to make sure we’re not heard?”

Keeping his gaze out to sea, Peter took a moment to answer. “What would you do? If you make it obvious, Father will want to know what we’re doing.”

“How do you feel about flying?” Farrell whispered.

“Flying?” Peter blinked twice. “What does that mean?”

“I was thinking about seeing Belsport from above and wondered if you’d like to join me. I promise it will be an amazing view.” Lowering his voice again, he said, “And no one will be able to hear our conversation.”

Peter let out a nervous laugh, then nodded.

“Give me a moment.” Farrell made his way to where Wilhelm still spoke with Horgon.

“Excuse me, Prince Wilhelm.” He waited until the prince looked up. “I was talking to your son about what the city looks like from above, and he expressed an interest in seeing it for himself. Since he is a minor, I thought it best to get your permission before he and I flew off.”

“Flew off?” Wilhelm jerked his head back slightly. “You mean you want to take him flying?”

“He expressed an interest, and I could do with a bit of air.”

“Bored again, are you?” Horgon smirked.

“I’m trying, Father, but formal state affairs always tax my patience.”

“I assume this is completely safe?” Peter’s father, not the Prince of Belsport, asked this question.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I would not do anything to put your son and heir at risk.”

Wilhelm looked toward his son. He smiled and gave the anxious teen a nod. “This is a pleasant development. Peter has been so withdrawn since his mother’s death, but he seems comfortable around you. Thank you for helping him.”

Farrell bowed and returned to the balcony.

“What did you say?” Peter’s eyes darted from Farrell to his father.

“Just that I mentioned flying and you expressed an interest.” Since the sun had gone down, the temperature was dropping, so Farrell fetched them each a cloak. “It gets colder the higher up we go.”

Attaching his cloak, Peter asked, “What do I do?”

“Nothing other than hold my hand.” Peter seemed tentative, but he eventually accepted Farrell’s hand. “Don’t look so worried. It’s a simple thing. Once I learned how to do it, I would fly up to the highest places just to get away. Ready?”

It took an effort not to laugh when Farrell saw Peter swallow hard before nodding. Farrell did his best not to jolt Peter as they moved off the ground, but it didn’t help.

“Easy on that hand, Peter, I’ll want it back when we’re done.” Farrell hoped the joke would ease Peter’s worries, but the younger prince kept his viselike grip.

Clear of the balcony and away from the tower walls, they quickly gained height. Within moments, Farrell had them higher than the tallest tower in the Citadel. Eyes wide, jaw slightly open, Peter seemed to relax as he took in the city below.

“This is amazing.” A smile plastered on his face, Peter only spared the barest of glances at Farrell.

Taking them north first, Farrell then moved west toward the ocean. “I thought we could talk over the water. That way only the fish will hear what we say.”

Once beyond the outer walls, Farrell increased their speed, causing their cloaks to flutter loudly behind them. When they couldn’t see the lights from the city, Farrell slowly brought them to a halt.

“This is as private as I can find.” He winked at Peter, who still seemed tense. “Hopefully it meets your approval.”

The sound of gentle waves went unbroken as Peter stared into the ocean.

“You don’t have to tell me, you know.” Whatever bothered him, Farrell didn’t want to press him to talk about it. “We really can just fly around for a bit more, then go back.”

“No.” With panic in his voice, Peter shook his head vigorously. “I want… need to tell you.”

Peter sighed. Staring down again, he nodded several times and turned his face up. “I think I want to join with a man, not a woman. But, as Prince of Belsport, I can’t possibly be like that, because I have to have children, a son specifically, to carry on the line. Many children, to hear my teachers speak. Father will be furious, and I don’t know what to do. There is no one to talk to about it.”

Raising his hand so Peter could see it, Farrell got his friend to stop speaking. “Slow down. One thought at a time. You think you like men or you’re sure you do? Sometimes when we’re young, our feelings are a mess and are hard to sort out. I used to think I was attracted to girls, even though I always looked at the handsome men.”

“I’m sure.” Another sigh followed his answer.

“Can I ask how you know for sure?” Sensing Peter might not answer, he quickly added, “Is there someone you’ve been with or you’re seeing now?”

Even in the dim light, Farrell could see Peter blush. “There’s this son of a wealthy merchant, Pervis. He’s almost eighteen. We’ve been together a couple of times.”

“Okay,” Farrell mumbled, lost suddenly in a memory.

“That’s it?” Peter moved his head back. “Just ‘okay,’ nothing else?”

“Sorry.” He tried to shake the memory, but it stayed fresh in his mind. “Your biggest fear is your father’s reaction.”

“Of course.” Peter seemed to tense up again. “He’s going to banish me, send me to a temple, or disown me and marry again, hoping to produce a proper heir. My life is ruined. Why did this happen to me?”

“I think you misjudge your father.” Maybe because his mother had reacted so well, Farrell expected the same from Wilhelm, but he didn’t believe Wilhelm would disown his son. “Admittedly, I’ve known him a very short time, but last night, you might have missed it, but I could see how proud he was of you and your ability to understand what we talked about. That wasn’t the reaction of a ruler first, father second. So I think he’ll understand enough to work through this with you.”

“Right.” Sarcasm dripped from the word even as Peter frowned. “He’ll just accept that I’m not going to produce an heir.”

“There are ways around succession issues, and your father is smart enough to know how to deal with this.” Farrell noticed the barest reflection of light from Peter’s cheek. Using his free hand, he wiped the tears from his friend’s face. “Peter, I know what this feels like, you know I do, or else you wouldn’t have sought me out. It’ll be okay.”

Peter sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve. “No, it won’t. I’m not a grand master wizard who’ll live forever. Father can’t take the risk, so he’ll find a new heir.”

“If you don’t get to be Prince of Belsport, so what?” Noting the shocked look on Peter’s face, he smiled. “Even if he won’t let you be prince, your father won’t leave you penniless. You’re smart and capable. I’ve no doubt you’d end up a very wealthy merchant at a minimum. And with me as your friend, you’ll always have a home, no matter who you join with.”

“I wish I could believe my father will accept me.” Through their joined hands, Farrell could feel Peter trembling. “But he’s prince first and father second. As prince, this won’t be acceptable.”

“We could speculate until a storm blows over us, but we won’t know until you speak to him.” Farrell knew Peter would resist, but he had to tell Wilhelm.

“Are you mad?” This far out to sea, Peter’s voice carried a long way. “Weren’t you listening? I’m not going to tell him.”

“You need to tell him, Peter. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to deal with.” He debated not telling the young prince what he really thought but decided Peter needed to hear it. “Given your father understands the value of information, do you really think you can keep this from him forever? I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew.”

For the first time, Farrell saw terror in Peter’s face. “Do you really think he knows? We were careful! Very careful!” Peter’s voice got higher as his fear increased.

“I can’t say, but it would be prudent to expect he does.” Had Peter been thinking more clearly, Farrell knew he’d agree. “How much that goes on in Belsport slips past your father and his informants?”

“Great Arritisa, how can this be happening?” Peter almost tore his hand free, forcing Farrell to tighten his grip to keep the prince from falling into the water. “Can you take me to Haven? If he knows, I can’t go back.”

“Before you decide to move to Haven, wouldn’t it make sense to find out if you even need to?” Farrell tried to keep his tone light, hoping Peter would calm down. “How awful would it be to flee Belsport only to learn later that your father wasn’t upset?”

“I can’t tell him.” He shook his head fast.

“Avoiding this only makes it worse. Your father’s reaction will be the same no matter when he finds out, but how he learns it might make a difference. Trusting him is the first step toward gaining his acceptance.”

“What if I go to Haven while you tell him?” Peter’s eyes pleaded with Farrell.

“It’s not my place to tell him.” He pulled Peter into a hug. “You know it has to come from you.”

“You’re right, but I’m scared.” Head against Farrell’s chest, Peter began to sob. Farrell gently rubbed his back, waiting for Peter to stop. When the tears ceased, Peter sniffed before he pulled back. “I told my mother before she died. She told me to tell him, that he loved me more than I knew.” Tears started to roll down his cheeks again. “I miss her, Farrell.”

Farrell’s stomach twisted, and his chest felt heavy. Forcing down the bile that crept up his throat, he tried to speak. Unsure his voice would hold, Farrell whispered, “I understand what that feels like.”

Staring at the half moon reflecting off the water, he realized how much he had in common with Peter. “When I told my mother, she took me to the water’s edge, because that’s where she found peace when she was upset.”

Closing his eyes, Farrell took a deep breath. “There is a serenity out here that puts all things in perspective. Before us, the ocean was; after us, it will still be. The sea doesn’t care who we love or even that we love. It’s not concerned with princes or wizards or the insignificant wars of humans. When placed in context of the boundless life that exists in total ignorance of us, our small problems are meaningless. Whatever happens will happen. You will never be able to move on while you struggle to find a way to address your problem. Think on it, and if you like, we can speak to your father before I leave.”

Peter turned his head in all directions before settling on Belsport. “Tonight I feel strong enough to tell him. If you would be there for me, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Farrell forced himself to smile. “I’ll ask Miceral to let your father know you want to speak to him in private.”

Farrell went slower on the way back to give Peter time to compose himself. As they crossed the entrance to the port, he spotted Prince Wilhelm standing on the balcony they had left from.

“An interesting way for my son to speak with you in private.” Wilhelm turned and walked back inside. Peter glanced over but seemed to stand taller as he followed his father.

“I asked everyone to excuse us since you asked to speak to me alone.” Wilhelm’s voice held only concern. “I assume you asked Farrell to remain, or else his upbringing would have compelled him to leave.”

“Yes, Father, I asked him to stay.” Peter moved closer to Wilhelm. “He’s the one who convinced me to speak to you.”

Wilhelm stepped closer and put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “I know I’ve not been the most approachable since your mother died. Part of that is because I miss her too. Whatever you tell me won’t change how I feel about you. You’ll always be my son, and I will always love you.”

Peter’s face wavered between a smile and tears. Farrell heard him swallow, then exhale. “I… I don’t want to join with a woman, Father. I prefer men.”

Wilhelm cocked his head to the right, staring at his son. Finally, a smile crossed his lips. “I already knew that, son.”

“You… you knew?

“Yes.” Wilhelm looked relieved. “Your mother told me before she died. She made me promise not to talk to you about it until you were ready to tell me. To allow you time to tell me when it was right for you.”

“She promised she wouldn’t tell you—”

Wilhelm put his hand up. “She loved you very much, Peter, and wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get mad when you told me. I’m not sure why everyone thinks I’d be angry with you. I understand this is nothing you chose, but it’s who you are. I might not be pleased about it and might wish it weren’t the case, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

Farrell watched as Peter’s expression went from terror to shock to a smile that threatened to split his face in two.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m ashamed at what I thought would happen when I told you.” Peter hung his head, no longer looking at his father.

Wilhelm placed a finger under his son’s chin and tilted it up. “I’m not so old that I forget how hard it was being your age. Losing your mother has been hard for all of us, but I hope you know now that you can tell me anything.”

Instead of answering, Peter lurched forward to his father. Wilhelm returned the embrace, kissing the top of his son’s head.

“That was all you wanted to tell me?” Wilhelm asked when Peter stepped back.

“Yes, Father.”

Wilhelm’s smile disappeared, and he nodded slowly. “I’m glad we had this chat tonight, because if we hadn’t, tomorrow I would’ve had to confront you on this issue.”

“Wh-why?”

“Yesterday, when I returned from Haven, I had a meeting with Master Kaleb and his son Pervis.”

Peter’s face turned white, and he swayed on his feet. “Pervis came to the Citadel?”

“I know about your… ah… interest in Pervis.” Wilhelm looked uneasy discussing the topic. “Don’t worry. I’m not upset with you. But you’ll need to select better friends in the future. Pervis and his father informed me several days ago that unless I gave their family exclusive trading rights to several lucrative luxury goods, they’d let all of Belsport know you and he were… ‘lovers,’ I believe he said.”

Peter shook and his face turned red. “How could he? We agreed to keep it to ourselves.”

“Unfortunately, that’s often how it works for people like you and me, Peter,” Farrell said. “The first person I fell in love with was an officer in the Yar-del palace guard. He was the younger son of a minor noble and very handsome. Turned out all he wanted was for me to ask Heminaltose to speak to Queen Zenora about a promotion. When I refused, he dumped me.”

“What did you tell him, Father?” Peter’s voice cracked from the attempt to control his anger.

“I told him it was a mistake to blackmail a prince of Belsport and had them both arrested for attempted extortion.” Despite a hint of satisfaction, Wilhelm seemed unhappy telling his son what had happened. “We can talk more tomorrow, but I wanted to be the one to tell you what happened.”

“Thank you, Father, and thank you for… for being… for not being mad.” Peter gave his father a thin smile.

“You’re welcome.” Wilhelm hugged his son again, then turned him toward the door. “Go get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Good night, Father.” Peter turned to Farrell and extended his right arm. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

Farrell clasped his hand to the younger man’s forearm and bowed slightly. “You’re welcome.”

When Peter left, Wilhelm stared hard at his guest. He picked up a bottle of port, poured two glasses, and handed one to Farrell. “It’s one of the best vintages I’ve found in years.”

They sipped their wine quietly before Wilhelm broke the silence. “You’re an intriguing person, Prince Farrell. In the span of a few days, you’ve upset our sedate lives and pushed us all in ways we hadn’t intended.” Looking over the rim of his glass, he kept his gaze on Farrell. “I’m not sure what to make of you, but my children trust you implicitly, my wizard fawns over you like you were Heminaltose reborn, and I find myself unable to dislike you, even though you’re forcing change on me at a pace unheard of in Belsport’s history.”

Unsure what Wilhelm wanted, Farrell let his host control the conversation.

“Things are happening in the world that will affect everyone. Somehow, you’re tied to this change. I just don’t know how. As I see it, you’re either Belsport’s greatest friend or its worst enemy. Deciding which will determine the fate of my people and our city.”

“I have no ill intentions toward you or your city, Wilhelm.” Farrell wanted to say more but held back. “I’m not sure how I can convince you otherwise.”

“No.” Wilhelm shook his head. “Enemy is the wrong word. You will either lift us all up, or you will bring ruin upon all you touch.”

“Meglar is the destroyer of nations, not I.” He took a small sip to cover his annoyance at the statement.

“He will be the instrument of our destruction, but your fight with him has a personal feel to it.” The prince refilled his half-empty glass. “Those you befriend become a target for his wrath.”

Farrell’s body tingled, and he raised his shields around them both. Ignoring the glare from his host, he searched the room for the cause.

“What in Arritisa’s name are you…?” Wilhelm’s protest died as Farrell lowered his shields.

A large milky-white manta ray fluttered soundlessly over the balcony. Silently, it floated into the room and stopped just before the pair. Farrell dropped to his knees and bowed his head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Wilhelm do the same.

“Greetings, Farrell, Servant of Honorus and Lenore.” Arritisa’s voice appeared inside his head. “And to you, Wilhelm, favored among my followers.”

“Holy Arritisa, You honor us with Your presence.” Farrell kept his head down, waiting to be granted permission to look upon the goddess.

“Holy Mother of the Sea.” Wilhelm’s voice came out low and halting. “How may I serve You?”

“Meglar is a threat to all nations, Belsport included. As My Chosen, Farrell leads the efforts of all who oppose Our Brother Neldin’s Servant. You will give what aid you can to Farrell and his efforts to carry out My will.”

Arritisa turned her gaze to Farrell. “Chosen, you must reveal to My follower that which you keep secret. Though I do not counsel you make public this knowledge, My follower must know for reasons I shall not share.”

When did he become Her Chosen? “I understand and will do as instructed,” Farrell replied. Though he was uncomfortable with the idea, it would be unthinkable to ignore Her direct command.

She returned her attention to Wilhelm. “Prince of Belsport, on you I lay a prohibition. What you learn today you may not share with anyone who does not already know the secret. Willingly, I know you would not do so, but there are others who can compel your words against your will. Against that threat, My will shall prevent you from breaking this confidence, even unto death.”

She extended a fin, compelling each to rise. “Go forth and honor Me, Wilhelm of Belsport and Halloran of Yar-del.”

Before Farrell could register his shock at Her words, Arritisa disappeared.

Chapter 24

FARRELL
LAY with his head on Miceral’s chest, enjoying his partner gently massaging his neck.

“Can it really be a bad thing to be the Chosen of Arritisa?” Miceral ran his hand through Farrell’s hair.

“Who can tell? I just don’t want more demands on me. Honorus’s task is more than enough already.” Half-asleep, he barely heard Miceral laugh. Yawning again, he exhaled and pulled Miceral closer. “Tomorrow I’ll ask Erstad and Wesfazial if they know what it means.”

When Miceral attempted to get up, Farrell reached for his hand, almost getting dragged off the bed in the process. Seeing his surprise mirrored on Miceral’s face, Farrell laughed. “Where are you running off to?”

“Running off? I’m trying to get undressed.” Leering at Farrell, Miceral started to unbutton his tunic.

Moving back against the pillows, Farrell put his hands behind his head to watch. “Don’t let me stop you; get to undressing.”

Miceral’s hand dropped to his waist, and he returned to the bed. “I think it might be more fun to do it together.”

FARRELL
WOKE wrapped in Miceral’s arms, feeling his partner’s arousal behind him. How easy it would have been to renew last night’s activities if only they didn’t have a full schedule today. Still, he couldn’t resist snuggling back a bit.

“Someone’s awake.” From the tone of his partner’s voice, Farrell felt certain if he turned around, Miceral would be grinning ear to ear.

“So is someone else.” Farrell wiggled around for emphasis. “Too bad we have to do our morning exercises, or we’d have time to enjoy it.”

Rolling to his right, Miceral pulled the sheets with him as he got off the bed. “We’ll have time for that again tonight. Now, it’s time to get up.”

Farrell turned on his stomach, hiding his excited state. “Seeing you naked makes me think of a different morning exercise we could do.”

When he turned to see Miceral’s reaction, the sheets hit him in the face. “Save it for later. Right now, get dressed.”

Miceral was stretching when Farrell found him. Joining him on the mat, Farrell stole a glance as he leaned forward to stretch his hamstrings. The big grin on Miceral’s face made it hard to keep his focus.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” Miceral asked.

“Can’t I wake up in the mood? This is our postunion vacation. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” Adjusting the front of his trousers, Farrell realized he had to stop thinking about it or he’d never get through the day.

Miceral laughed, causing him to break his stretch. “Yes, we are, but it’s not the only thing we’re supposed to do.”

For the first thirty minutes, Miceral stuck to conditioning exercises. Hands on knees, Farrell paused to catch his breath before they progressed to combat moves. “I can’t believe I lost that much over just a week.”

Farrell gratefully accepted a cup of water, downing it in one long drink. “You didn’t lose anything.” Miceral refilled his cup. “I pushed you much harder than normal to see if you had. I guess all that nighttime exercise does help.”

Water flew everywhere as Farrell erupted in a fit of coughing. “I’ll get you for that.”

The spell on the front door announced they had a visitor. Still trying to catch his breath, Farrell didn’t object when Miceral left to answer see who was there. He’d just started stretching again when his partner returned, Prince Peter in tow.

“I came by to thank you again for yesterday.” Peter seemed more relaxed, and Farrell noticed a spark in his eyes not there the day before. “Father explained many things over breakfast this morning.”

Farrell gave him a smile but kept to his routine. “I’m glad it turned out well. Having been in your position, I could relate to what you were going through.”

Nodding, Peter looked around the room and at both of them. “Is this the training Alicia said she interrupted you doing?”

“Yes.” Miceral tossed Farrell a towel and put away the water and cups. “We still have a bit left before we’re done.”

“Do you mind if I watch?”

“So long as you stay against the wall.” Miceral pointed to the spot farthest from where they practiced. “I don’t want to explain to your father how you got hurt if I accidentally toss Farrell into you and you break a bone.”

Farrell glared at him but got back into position. After another thirty minutes, and numerous red marks on Farrell’s torso, Miceral ended their session.

“Much better than last time.” Miceral smiled, holding out a clean towel. “It has to be all—”

“Don’t say it!” Farrell turned red.

Despite not knowing the joke, Peter laughed. “You do this every day?”

“Just about.” Trying to hide his embarrassment, Farrell focused on healing the more obvious or painful bruises. “What brings you to see us this early?”

“Father asked me to inquire when you wanted to start work on the new shields.” If being a messenger for his father upset the younger prince, he didn’t show it. “He said he wants to be certain everything you need is ready.”

After pulling on a loose-fitting beige tunic, Farrell poured himself some more water. “I do, but I did want to go over things with him and Darius first.”

Peter nodded. “Father assumed that would be the case if you wanted to start today. I’ll let him know.”

After walking Peter to the door, Farrell noticed food had been brought in while they exercised. Peeling a boiled egg, he felt Nerti’s touch on his mind as he took a bite. “Erstad wishes you to open a Door from his room to where you are now.”

“Would you tell him I’ll open it in his study?” Shoving the rest of the egg in his mouth, he reached for another.

“It shall be done.” Rather than leave his mind, Farrell felt her continued presence. “When will you be back, Wizard? I miss our rides. Klissmor is equally restless. The clerics see to our needs, but we prefer to run, and without you, it’s hard to get anyone to let us onto Gharaha to exercise.”

Though necessary, given their unique nature, leaving Nerti and Klissmor behind now made Farrell feel guilty. Not that he’d forgotten her during his stay in Belsport, but he hadn’t been mindful of her needs. “I don’t know when we’ll be done in Belsport, but Miceral and I can come back to go riding with you if we’re not finished here today.”

“That would be appreciated, little one.” Thinking about how to make it up to Nerti, Farrell almost forgot to open the Door for his mentors. Knowing what lay ahead for the rest of his day, he took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. “Right, no more daydreaming.”

FARRELL GLANCED around Belsport’s audience hall as he entered with Miceral and the three Haven wizards. The similarities to the palace in Yar-del put a damper on his eagerness to begin this project.

Light poured into the room through large windows on either side, adding a degree of warmth for entrants on their way to the throne. Scenes of Belsport’s nautical history inlaid on the tile floor in bright, vivid colors drew the eye down to admire the work.

Their footsteps echoed in the massive room, dancing among the four rows of thick gold-trimmed columns. In front of them, the ornately carved, jewel-encrusted throne sat empty, as did the two smaller seats on either side.

Darius entered from a side door, accompanied by two younger men in constable garb. The epaulettes on their uniforms spoke to their high rank. Farrell noted the one to the right was a master wizard of some power.

Nodding to his guests, Darius motioned for the officers to step forward.

“Prince Farrell, allow me to introduce Captain Aderic of the wizard constables and Captain Reinhard, who commands the bulk of the city guard as well as sees to the training of our militia.”

Bowing just the right amount, as he’d been trained, Farrell did his best not to appear dismissive. Unable to suppress his excitement, he smiled as he turned to Darius.

“Did you find enough rocks in the size we need?”

Eyes sparkling with a hint of excitement, Darius nodded. “I believe we have suitable stones for your needs. When Prince Wilhelm arrives, I’ll take you there so you can inspect them yourself.”

Moments later Wilhelm, Peter, and a company of soldiers arrived. Glancing over, Peter gave Farrell a smile. Darius quickly opened a Door into a dark, long warehouse. Six globes of wizard’s light appeared, providing ample illumination.

Arranged in rows of ten, dozens of rocks, all about the same size, beckoned to Farrell to come inspect them. For the moment, he focused on the one noticeably larger in the front.

“As you instructed,” Aderic announced. “Dense granite, not lime or soapstone.”

Farrell barely heard the man, having moved to the stones. He laid his hands on the large one first, then pulled the black staff from his back and tapped the platinum tip against the rock. Using his free hand and the staff, he searched the stone for imperfections.

Longer than Farrell was tall, the stone sat chest high and about the same across. A few spots troubled him, but he expected this. He grasped his staff by the end, extended his arm fully, and circled the boulder slowly. A dull brownish glow stretched from the staff, encasing the stone as he moved. When he had come full circle, the brown cocoon pulsed once before the energy seemed to absorb into the rock.

“I found a few faults that could’ve fractured the stone if it were stressed too much. They’ve been corrected, and this should be perfect for the job.” A mischievous grin crossed his face when he turned to Wilhelm. “The combined weight of these stones is quite high. I hope I’ll not drain your treasury too much when Haven collects its payment.”

Wilhelm feigned a pained expression. “This is indeed a prince’s ransom, but if it works as you say, I’ll have paid a fraction of what it’s really worth.”

Moving behind the large stone, Farrell surveyed the rows before him.

“One hundred and twenty, nonporous stones. Each about two hundred pounds.” Darius appeared at his side, pointing to the neatly arranged rocks. “They are roughly the same size and shape and came from the same quarry.”

Holding his staff out, Farrell slowly passed through the ranks. A tendril of brown energy enveloped almost every rock. Twice, he stopped and ran his hands over a stone, and cast it aside both times. After the last inspection, Farrell looked up, smiling.

“I’ll have more than I need if my calculations on the distance around Belsport are correct. Have you selected a location for the central stone?

Darius nodded. “A basement room in the Citadel has been cleared for our use.” Motioning to Aderic, he changed the terminus for the still-open Door.

Aderic moved the large stone and set it in the middle of the room before anyone could enter. Following Aderic, Farrell did a quick survey of the windowless room. It measured about ten by twelve feet in area, with a door at either end. With the stone in place, the others almost didn’t fit into the chamber. Extending his senses, Farrell checked their location in relation to where the shield would be created. Satisfied with the placement, he focused on the next step.

He asked everyone to stand against the wall to give him space to move if needed. Lifting his legs, he floated over the stone and shielded the room to hide his work from whomever Meglar had left in the city. Confident he could complete the complex spell, he began.

Weaving the collection, storage, and transfer spells into the stone, he completed the stable portion of the process fairly quickly. Focusing on the rest of the spell, he kept his mind on the work. Spells only did what the caster told them to do. But for this project, he needed to account for things as they changed. Even grand master wizards rarely attempted dynamic magic this difficult. And for good reason. Too many controls and the spell failed; too few and it ended up unfocused and ineffective. Either could cause the spell to reflect back on the wizard casting it, often with dire results.

For this, he decided to use a few dedicated parameters and shunt control from the spell to the wizards keyed to it.

Unlike a Source, this stone could not store great amounts of energy or the spells would deteriorate. To prevent such a breakdown, the prime directive for the stone needed to be to push the collected power evenly to each of the active receptors. He planned to use two types of recipients: the stones, and wizards approved by Prince Wilhelm. Unlike the stones, however, the wizards couldn’t be passive recipients. Left unchecked, the stone could feed a wizard too much energy while they slept. By making the stones passive receptors and the default for all energy distributed, he avoided harming any unsuspecting wizard.

Fixing one problem created a new one. If he sent all excess energy to the passive receptors, the central stone might have nothing available when wizards needed energy. A central reservoir, large enough to meet the needs of several master wizards, would leave enough energy for daily use before fueling the shield stones. If the demand of the wizards proved too great, nothing would go to the outer stones. Darius and Aderic could work out how to distribute the energy between powering the shield and leaving enough for Belsport’s wizards.

When he’d completed all the threads, Farrell bound them together, made himself the default for any excess energy, and sealed the spell.

“The first step is complete. All power collected will flow here and then be distributed as we discussed. Now we need to lay the collection spell.” Farrell paused, waiting for the inevitable request. Darius did not disappoint him.

“Prince Farrell, it would be much easier if you would teach us the main spell rather than just the extension spell.” Darius looked uncomfortable making his prince’s request.

Stifling a chuckle, Farrell still smiled. “Still trying to gain the upper hand, Wilhelm?”

The prince feigned confusion. “I’m innocent in the request, Farrell. My chief wizard has an incurable thirst for knowledge. I’m certain not knowing how something works keeps him awake at nights.”

Farrell rolled his eyes as others snickered behind him. “My apologies, Master Darius, but I fear you shall have many sleepless nights. The spell is something of a state secret that I’m unwilling to part with. With the ability to extend the spell to all of Belsport and its environs, you’ll have ample ability to achieve a well-powered shield.”

“Until you turn off the collection spell,” Darius noted.

“True.” Wilhelm had bargained hard to have control of the collection spell, but Farrell held firm in opposition. He also knew that, at his core, Darius agreed with Farrell’s decision. “That day, however, is decades, maybe centuries off in the future. By then, you won’t need it, and it will allow wizards direct access to power without asking you or the crown.”

“To satisfy my own curiosity, I had to try.” Darius gave him the barest of nods. “And Belsport thanks you for arranging to have three of Haven’s most gifted wizards assist us in extending the spell.”

“Bah,” Wesfazial grumbled. “We had to force him to let us help. First time anything like this has been attempted, and he forgets to invite us along.”

Farrell rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the remark. “Once I lay the spell on this room, I’ll link you five and show you how to extend it. After that, you can teach whoever is able. There’s no limit that I know of to how large an area you can expand the spell.”

With all eyes on him, Farrell pushed out his will to cover the small room. As he cast the spell, he wove it around the end of his staff and circled the stone, staff moving as he walked, extending the spell to cover every inch of the floor. Linking his work to the stone, he felt the few ergs of energy captured by his grid flow into the storage reservoir.

“As we knew, there’s little energy in this room.” Farrell turned to Darius and Aderic. “But if you extend the grid as you leave, it will connect the link to the stone as you expand your area throughout Belsport and beyond.”

Farrell released a bit of his stored energy into the grid, and the other wizards watched it funnel into the stone. “Right now, there isn’t enough energy to trigger a push, but as you extend the grid it will fill fairly quickly, at least at first. Until I set up the outer stones, I’ll draw any excess power to myself and use it to finish the shield.”

“That was quite an amazing bit of magic you just pulled off.” Darius had a hand on the stone, and through his link Farrell could feel the older wizard’s mind probing it. “I can’t say I followed half of what you just did. I’d wager you’d impress even your old masters with this.”

“Doubtful, Master Darius.” Farrell checked the spells a last time. Satisfied, he turned toward the door. “I did nothing more than copy their work.”

“Our young wizard is being modest,” Erstad said. “Sanduval created this spell only after he and Farrell had a lengthy discussion on this topic. It was Farrell’s idea that Sanduval used to solve the problem.”

“Yes, and I also suggested we kill Meglar, but such has us no closer to his death.” The need to defend his deceased master surprised him with its strength. It also felt wrong getting credit for Sanduval’s work. “His was the skill and talent that led to this advancement.”

No one spoke, and when the silence got awkward, Farrell cleared his throat. “Darius, let me show you and Aderic how to extend the grid. Then you five can get to work.”

“I’ll do that,” Erstad said. “Go work on the rest.”

Feeling a bit guilty he’d forgotten Erstad could handle this, Farrell nodded his agreement. “If you wouldn’t mind, Darius, could you leave the Door open between this room and the warehouse?”

“Of course.”

“So what’s next?” Wilhelm asked as he and the other nonwizards followed Farrell to the warehouse.

“I need to set the spells in these.” He gestured toward the stones lined up against the wall. “That will take a while. Some parts of the spell I can do en masse. The rest need to be done one at a time.”

“A hundred times?” Miceral asked.

“Afraid so.” Farrell shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I need to set the stone, link it to the central reservoir, and keep the end of the spell open until everything is complete. You didn’t think we were charging Wilhelm that much gold for a simple off-the-shelf spell, did you?”

Wilhelm laughed. “For all I know, you may be dragging this out to justify the price. Even Darius has no idea what you’re doing.”

“Good thing you’re not paying us until after the shield is up and running.” Farrell flashed his host a smile, then turned his attention to his task.

He spent several minutes hovering over the stones. From the middle of the rows, he prepared the group for the next step. When he stepped down, he scanned the lot and nodded to himself.

“This stage is complete.” He searched the dimly lit building and found a good place to open a new Door. “Wilhelm, you and Peter might as well go back to the palace. This next phase will take many hours, so Miceral and I will be poor company during that time.”

“I’d like to stay.” All eyes turned to Peter. “If it’s not a problem.”

Wilhelm turned to Farrell. “So long as you don’t mind, Farrell, he has my permission. For what I’m paying you, I need someone to make sure you don’t cut corners.”

“Looks like you’re my new foreman,” he told the smiling prince.

Nodding to his son and guests, Wilhelm led his guards from the building. When only the three of them remained, Farrell turned to Peter. “It’s good of you to stay. It’ll give Miceral someone to talk to during the day.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Miceral asked.

“I’ll be fine. It might be one of the bigger spells I’ve worked, but I’m confident. Fortunately, I can feel power flowing into the reservoir. Adding that to what I brought with me, I won’t have to stop to collect more energy during the day.”

“Okay, but if you’re tired, don’t push yourself.” Miceral picked up the first stone. “You can finish this tomorrow.”

Farrell shook his head. “Finishing tomorrow would mean doing extra work. I’d have to tie up some things tonight that I’d have to undo tomorrow.”

Miceral shook his head. “I get it. You want to finish today.”

“To make things go quicker, so we can finish today—” He smirked at Miceral. “—let me explain how this will work. First, I’ll open a Door that’ll take us outside the city walls. On that side, the Door will follow me as I move around the city, but this side will remain right here. After you set down a stone, come back and get the next one. Wait until I move before you bring it through. Otherwise you’ll have to carry it from one site to the next. Questions?”

Hearing none, Farrell called up an image of a spot outside the walls he had memorized yesterday. “Wait here until I get where I want to start. We’ll start on the south side of the bluffs and work our way around, and then the last stone will be the one we drop in the harbor.”

Yesterday, he’d been lazy and picked a spot far from the southern bluffs. He raised his legs and flew west, hugging close to the walls. When he reached a point near the cliff, he released the spell he’d prepared last night. Dozens of colored balls the size of oranges flew around Belsport. Wilhelm had instructed his guards to ignore Farrell, but he still heard shouts from the walls as the markers flew into position.

“Okay, bring me the first stone.” Farrell made a mental count of how many balls he’d created. “Only eighty-three sites.”

Stone in hand, Miceral moved through the Door and placed it on top of the ball of energy. The globe expanded until it engulfed the stone, leaving a faint bluish hue.

“Go ahead and get the next one. I won’t be too long here.” Focused on the job, Farrell didn’t look up to see Peter and Miceral head back to the warehouse.

Careful to shield his work, Farrell linked the stone to the central reservoir, set the wavelength, and opened a line that he tethered to himself. Once all eighty-three stones were set, he’d tie the lines together to form the shield.

Before he left Haven, Farrell had filled his staff and a few objects capable of storing large amounts of power. By the time he was a quarter finished, he felt the first push of energy from the central stone. Rather than get a continuous trickle of power, he nearly drained the stone, storing it in one of his now-empty vessels. Given how fast the wizards expanded the grid, he might need a few more storage units to handle the influx of energy.

Each stone took about three minutes to complete. By the time he finished number forty-one, the sun had crested the halfway mark to the horizon. Even this far north, daylight ended quicker than he’d like. That made it a race to see if he could finish before nightfall.

At the seventieth site, he pulled five new storage vessels to hold the energy the central stone sent him. He’d forgotten to account for the greater rate of collection with the addition of a new area to the grid. When he finished for the day, he’d release the energy into the grid so it could be reabsorbed and channeled to the outer stones.

The sun had started to disappear over the western sea, and nine stones remained. It might be dusk before he finished, but at least it wouldn’t be completely dark. Just as he set the seventy-fifth stone, Peter appeared with a plate of food.

“Miceral said to eat this or he won’t bring out another stone.” Peter shrugged as if to say, Don’t blame me, I’m just the messenger but held the plate steady until Farrell took it.

“I really appreciate you keeping us company,” Farrell said between mouthfuls. “Especially for staying with Miceral. I’ve got enough to keep me occupied. It would have been deathly boring for him without you.”

Peter flashed him a smile. “I’m happy to help. Besides, Miceral promised to take me to Haven to meet unicorns. He said I might even be allowed to ride one.”

Swallowing the last bit of food, he handed Peter the empty plate. “I’ll ask Nerti to find someone willing to let you ride as a thank-you for all your help.”

The sun had almost entirely dipped below the sea when Farrell finished the second-to-last stone. Hovering at the edge of the northern cliff face, he waited for Miceral to bring him the last one. Farrell floated it over the water until he reached the last marker. The pale orange ball sat atop the gentle current, keeping the position it had held all day. Completing his work, he dropped the stone, letting it sink to the ocean floor.

Having drawn steadily on the reservoir, the central stone didn’t have enough power built up again to test the flow to his eighty-three points. It didn’t matter. Once he emptied the excess energy into the central stone, he could adjust the flow from inside the city. If any problems occurred, he’d deal with them tomorrow.

Satisfied with the day’s work, he stepped down for the first time in hours. Raising his arms over his head, he pulled his body tight, stretching his tired muscles.

“So?” Miceral asked. “Does it work?”

“We’ll know tomorrow. I can’t bind everything until after energy has been added to the outer stones. Hopefully the night will prove long enough. If not, I can deal with that in the morning as well.” He twisted left, then right to further loosen up. “As for tonight, I believe you promised there’d be time for that.”

Chapter 25

SITTING
IN the small room off the audience chamber, Farrell rolled his head to stretch his neck muscles. Telling everyone he’d worn himself out setting up the shield had let him avoid dinner last night. That allowed him a nap before he’d kept Miceral up half the night. Or had Miceral kept him up? Didn’t matter, just thinking about it made him smile.

He glanced to his right and noted Miceral looked equally happy. “Had a good night as well?”

Miceral laughed. “What gave it away?”

“What has you two so pleased at this hour?” Wilhelm asked.

They both turned red. How had Farrell not noticed the arrival of Wilhelm and his children?

“Father, they’re still newlyjoined.” Alicia didn’t hide her amusement. “There are some questions that don’t need answering.”

A week of her sharp wit had made Farrell somewhat more immune to the effects. Rather than blush, he shook his head and turned to Miceral. “To think we were going to invite her to come to Haven with her brother. Do you think Nerti will be offended if we only bring one guest?”

“No.” Miceral shrugged. “I don’t think it will matter. The second unicorn can still run with us.”

“Unicorn?” Peter’s eyes lit up. “Did she agree?”

“What’s he talking about?” Alicia turned serious. “Who’s riding a unicorn?”

“Your brother asked me if he could meet Nerti and Klissmor.” Miceral smiled at Peter. “He was so helpful yesterday, I did him one better and asked Klissmor if he could find someone willing to give him a ride.”

Peter looked about to burst.

“Of course, Peter asked if you could come along too, but after this last remark….” Farrell left off the rest.

“You wouldn’t.” First she glared at Farrell, then turned to Miceral. “Lord Miceral, you’d let him do this?”

“My lady, as you pointed out, we’re still newlyjoined. Farrell’s happiness is my first thought.”

Wilhelm laughed, putting his arm around his daughter. “I’ve warned you that your wit might cause you grief. I suggest you make your most sincere apology, or else I’ll only be asked to permit your brother to go to Haven.”

Shifting her gaze from Farrell to Miceral to her father and back to Farrell, Alicia looked lost. “Prince Farrell, my apologies for making light of your marital affairs. It was unbecoming.”

“Yes, it was.” Farrell kept a straight face for a heartbeat before laughing. “But it was worth it to see your expression when we threatened to leave you behind.”

“Why… you—”

As she sputtered for a retort, Miceral cut her off. “Princess, trust me when I say you want to come with us today. I’d wager after this you’ll want to avoid embarrassing Farrell in the future. Once you ride a unicorn, you won’t want to risk losing any future opportunities.”

Alicia snapped her mouth shut and nodded meekly.

“Great Arritisa.” Wilhelm shook his head, looking between his daughter and his guest. “Had I known it would be this easy to curb her tongue, I’d have paid you twice the value of the shield to take her for a ride.”

“You could always pay us anyway.” Miceral looked hopeful.

“Never pay for what you already own.” Wilhelm smiled, then turned to his children. “I suggest you two go get ready.”

“Wait.” Farrell’s voice stopped the pair. “Sorry, but before you go, we’re planning to stay the night in Haven. The shield needs more time to charge, and I have some matters I can attend to while we wait. If it’s acceptable to you, Prince Wilhelm, they’re welcome to stay in Haven and return in the morning.”

Wilhelm nodded. “Pack appropriate clothing for a visit.”

Farrell doubted either heard him as they’d quickly left the moment he nodded.

Wilhelm turned back to his guest. “That should keep them busy while we discuss matters. It’s as if you wanted it that way.”

“Your Majesty gives me far too much credit.” Farrell hadn’t planned anything, much less to get rid of the prince’s children.

“No, I think I’ve given far too little.” The smile Wilhelm gave him lost some of its mirth. “But it does give us some privacy.”

The prince led them to a small room filled with comfortable furniture and refreshments set out. “I’ve spoken at length with Darius and my other advisors, and I’m not prepared to evict Meglar’s people.”

Farrell felt his face tighten as he exhaled loudly.

“Before you respond, hear me out.” Despite the polite words, Wilhelm’s voice held a hint of annoyance. When Farrell nodded, he continued. “Tossing out his people would do little to keep what you do a secret. There are merchants from the other free cities and other nations, some of whom at the very least sell Meglar information, if they’re working for him already. Unless I’m prepared to remove all agents, from all nations—something I won’t do—I’ll achieve nothing except annoy Meglar for no gain.”

“What about Arritisa’s warning that Meglar must be stopped?” Though he saw the logic in Wilhelm’s argument, Farrell knew he missed the bigger picture. “Allowing his wizards to remain does not serve Belsport’s interests.”

A wry grin appeared on Wilhelm’s face. “Your plan to bind Belsport’s energy might achieve what you desire without formal state action. Already two of Meglar’s agents have complained to Aderic that something bars their ability to collect energy. Captain Aderic advised said wizards that, on order of the crown, wizard constables collected all free energy for storage and use by the crown.”

Farrell nodded approvingly. “I’ll wager that went over well.”

“Was that before or after he threatened Aderic and the prince?” Darius asked.

That got Farrell’s attention. “What happened?”

“They’re under arrest for threatening the prince and a constable.” Darius smirked. “My spies tell me the rest of Meglar’s agents are planning a jailbreak. Aderic’s organizing our response as we speak.”

“By the time you return—” Wilhelm took a bite from an apple he’d selected. “—I’ll have arrested all of Zargon’s wizards for crimes against the crown. Meglar will, of course, protest and we’ll have a diplomatic response, but in the meantime, Darius is going to hold them in a sealed chamber that will block them from seeing or sensing what you’re doing.”

Such a clever plot worked far better than Farrell’s sledgehammer approach. “I see the wisdom in doing things your way.”

“I’m pleased you approve of my method.” This time, the prince sounded amused. “Our alliance is important to Belsport and to her goddess.”

His initial reaction to Wilhelm’s decision had bordered on insulting, and Farrell felt guilty for doubting his new ally. “Clearly, I have much to learn on the art of subtlety, Prince Wilhelm.”

“Consider it a lesson from one who’s had more experience dealing with political intrigue.” Smiling again, he directed his attention to Miceral. “Now that we have that settled, can you go over what steps remain before the shield is functional?”

THE
DISCUSSION with Wilhelm lasted into the lunch hour, and with the time difference, they returned to Haven later than Farrell expected. Nerti decided they would ride the next morning. Despite the disappointed faces of his guests, Farrell refused to ask her to reconsider. After showing Peter and Alicia around Haven, Farrell caught up on some work and arranged a small dinner in honor of his guests.

He invited his old friend Prince Jursten of Endor and Kerstand, earning him a warning from Miceral not to play matchmaker. When Alicia immediately began flirting with Jursten, Miceral scowled at Farrell.

“I had nothing to do with this.” Farrell tried to look as innocent as he felt. “But you have to admit, they seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“Prince Jursten.” Farrell’s voice drew all eyes to him. “I’d be remiss in my friendship if I didn’t warn you about your dinner companion.”

Alicia’s jaw tightened so much her lips almost disappeared. Ignoring the daggers she shot him with her eyes, he plastered his best court smile on his face. “She’s an expert conversationalist who will surprise you with her wit. Don’t let the pretty face fool you; she’s even smarter than she is lovely.”

For the first time since Farrell met her, Alicia blushed.

“And how is that a warning?” Jursten turned back to Alicia. “A compliment such as that is hard to disagree with.”

The color deepened in Alicia’s cheeks, prompting her to glare at him. “It would appear….”

“Princess, did you tell Jursten we might go riding tomorrow?” Farrell arched an eyebrow, daring her to risk her invitation.

Peter sniggered next to him, then busied himself arranging his silverware when his sister looked his way. Jursten looked from Farrell to Alicia, then back.

He grinned at Farrell before turning to his new companion. “How badly did you make him blush?”

“He was almost as red as Prince Kerstand’s shirt.” She pointed to the scarlet tunic signifying Honal’s royal colors. “But it was an innocent mistake. Twice he answered the door shirtless and sweating. What else was I to think other than my virtue was at stake?”

Miceral roared, but Farrell kept his smile without turning red. “Help me out here. Miceral, what was that comment she made about us being—”

“That was an honest mistake too.” Alicia looked fit to burst as she spoke through clenched teeth.

“Payback?” Kerstand asked.

“Of course.” Farrell nodded seriously. “She delighted in making me squirm. I thought she enjoyed the feeling. I guess I was wrong.”

Jursten took Alicia’s hand and patted it fondly. “Maybe later I can tell you some of the things I said to embarrass him. For instance, the time he met the Count of Durtress’s youngest son. Poor Farrell’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he heard the young man was interested in him.”

Farrell rolled his eyes but stopped when he saw Miceral staring at him.

“Son of a count?” He smirked. “How come I never heard this one?”

“Because the oaf had cabbage between his ears and couldn’t speak in complete sentences.” Farrell tried to frown but couldn’t keep it from turning into a smile. “But he was nice to look at and—”

“Oh my.” Alicia giggled. “You can make yourself blush. I’m impressed.”

“To be fair to Farrell,” Jursten said, drawing attention back to him, “Fentar was quite handsome and athletic. If he understood politics a bit better, he might have gone far.”

“What happened to the strapping young Fentar?” Alicia turned her head slowly toward Farrell, eyebrow raised.

Farrell cocked his head to the right, looking toward Jursten. “He joined with the son of that Arvendian clan chief, Gelg, didn’t he?”

“Sub-clan chief,” Jursten corrected. “They counted his strength and athleticism more highly than having an advanced degree.”

“Poor Fentar.” Farrell sighed.

“Why?” Alicia looked confused. “Sounds like he found his perfect mate.”

“Oh, he did.” Jursten laughed. “It’s just, well, Endor is one of the few kingdoms devoted to the God of Wisdom. Fentar wasn’t an especially adept follower and never really fit in at court.”

“If I recall correctly”—Farrell smiled at his friend—“you arranged for Gelg to bring his son to court when you knew Fentar would be there.”

“Your memory is somewhat selective.” Jursten turned to Alicia. “Fentar was very taken with Farrell. I mean, he swooned whenever Farrell came near. It was… embarrassing to his father and my father. Farrell heard that Gelg’s son was attracted to men and was looking for a mate. He let drop that bit of information in a most suggestive way.”

He glanced at Farrell, who shrugged. “What? Your father was about to exile Fentar. All I did was mention how it might be a good match.”

“Wait.” Alicia put her free hand up, leaving the one under Jursten’s. “How did you know Gelg’s son was looking for a mate?”

Jursten smirked. “Gelg wanted to match him with Farrell, who of course had enough of the handsome but dumb-as-a-stone type.”

“So why did you get involved?” Miceral’s expression told Farrell he’d have to give more details up when they were alone.

“Um… well….” Jursten suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Jursten owed me a favor.” Farrell earned a look of gratitude from his friend. “I ran interference when a particularly obnoxious mother wanted to pair her equally obnoxious daughter with Jursten at a state dinner. I made sure she sat next to me instead.”

“And that helped how?” Alicia seemed amused and kept stealing glances at Jursten.

“Sitting next to the Prince of Haven is an honor every mother dreams of for her unmarried daughter.” Jursten’s chuckle became a full laugh.

“Unless the prince isn’t interested in women.” Farrell tried to look innocent. “Then it becomes a wasted social opportunity.”

“It sounds like you two have quite an interesting history together.” Alicia smiled coyly at Jursten.

“Jursten was my first real friend.” Farrell turned serious but still smiled. “He wasn’t a teacher, mentor, vassal, subject, court dandy looking for something, or any of the other people I dealt with on a daily basis. We were both young, and aside from him trying to fix me up with all sorts of hideous men—”

“Please, you told Duchess Helena I mentioned her daughter to you fondly.” Jursten rolled his eyes. “Do you remember how much trouble we both got in when Father had to deal with the old battle-ax?”

“Not attractive?” Kerstand asked.

“She was forty-three and I was twenty-four!” Jursten pointed at Farrell. “He knew the Duchess was desperate to find a suitable husband for Jonice, and his little comment had the old woman practically sprinting for my father’s chambers.”

“That was the closest Clement ever came to yelling at me.” Farrell nodded at the memory. “But the two-hour lecture on the finer points of marriage diplomacy was enough that I never did that again.”

Alicia turned to Jursten. “You will have to tell me more about your adventures.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but his sister kept flirting with Jursten and didn’t notice.

“After dinner,” Jursten said, smiling back, “it would be my pleasure to regale you with some of our more amusing adventures.”

DINNER
PROVED entertaining, especially for Farrell. Since Clement’s death, Jursten had become more serious and less fun. Farrell had changed too. Recounting their adventures in front of the others reminded Farrell how much he enjoyed Jursten’s company and what a good friend he had been. Hopefully, this pairing wouldn’t make it into the litany of “tales” recited at future dinners such as this.

When the staff cleared the main course from the table, Jursten and Alicia excused themselves to “see more of Haven.” They pointedly ignored the snide looks the others gave them as they left the small dining room arm in arm.

While the servers set out dessert, the discussion turned to current events, and in particular, Belsport’s new shield.

“If all goes well and the new shield works at Belsport”—Farrell poured coffee for himself and Peter—“it might be of use to Honal.”

Kerstand stared at a blank wall before nodding. It took him a few moments more to answer.

“How much would it cost?” Despite his polite words, Kerstand’s face betrayed his true feelings. “Honal can’t afford what Belsport paid without beggaring the treasury.”

“Easy, Kers.” Miceral put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “With Belsport it was more a game than anything. Prince Wilhelm paid for the shield as part of a larger trade agreement.”

“It’s true,” Peter added, grabbing a small cake from the tray. “Father plans to defer the cost by reducing what we spend on magical protections and charging wizards for access to power. Well, not the wizard constables, but other wizards.”

Miceral shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Back to the issue at hand, please?” Farrell caught his irritated tone and held up his hands. “Sorry, I’m getting tired, and I get cranky when that happens. The shield won’t last indefinitely, at least not until it has years to power up, but it’ll provide valuable time to evacuate everyone if it comes to that. Could you arrange a meeting with your father when I get back? I’m sure we can agree on what compensation, if any, will be required.”

“I’ll pass along your request.”

“Excellent.” Farrell yawned before he could stifle it. “Good thing this wasn’t going to be a long night. I’d probably fall asleep on everyone.”

COLLECTING HIS guests proved more difficult than he expected when Farrell learned Alicia and Jursten had talked into the small hours of the night. Only the threat of leaving without her spurred the princess into action. Once ready, she appeared as eager as her brother to meet Nerti and Klissmor.

Farrell couldn’t remember a breakfast more rushed than the one that morning. Peter inhaled his food, Alicia only a bit behind, and then the pair announced they were ready to go. Farrell and Miceral had to endure them watching their every bite as they tried to finish eating. Finally, to get a bit of peace, Farrell sent them to collect a bag of apples to bring to Nerti. Peter ran off, but Alicia seemed torn between maintaining proper decorum and racing off after her brother. Eventually, she opted for her dignity and walked quickly.

“Apples?” Miceral asked between shoving food in his mouth.

“I thought….” Farrell shut his mouth as bits of food flew across the table. “Sorry about that. I thought it would be a nice gesture for the two of them to come bearing gifts.”

“Good idea.”

When the siblings returned, each carried two bags of apples. Alicia put her bags almost in Farrell’s plate. “The cook said he has more if you need them.”

Farrell rolled his eyes, shoved the last piece of toast in his mouth, and washed it down by draining his cup. Pushing back from the table, Farrell wished he had time for seconds, but he couldn’t take the intense scrutiny of his guests. “You thought this was a good idea, why?”

The glare he got from Miceral told him his partner had second thoughts as well.

Leading the group through a maze of rarely used tunnels, Farrell soon had them to the western edge of Haven. At the end of the last tunnel, Miceral put his arm out to stop Peter and Alicia. “Unicorns will talk into your mind, but you can answer by speaking. Remember, Nerti is the Queen of the Unicorns. You must treat her with deference and respect.”

After getting nods of understanding, Farrell opened the door leading to the western side of the mountains. A gust of wintery air swept across the flat, grassy land. Farrell closed his eyes and fetched four sets of warm cloaks, sweaters, and gloves.

Before they finished dressing, Farrell heard the sound of hooves. Four unicorns, led by Nerti, rounded an outcropping and made for the group. Cloak still in hand, Peter stood still, watching their arrival.

Just seeing Nerti running toward him produced a twinge of guilt as Farrell realized how little attention he’d paid her in the past two weeks. Ignoring everyone else, he put his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry I have neglected you recently.”

“As a newlyjoined, you are forgiven this once.” Her playful tone helped ease some of his guilt. “Returning for the day so we can ride has helped you maintain your high standing.”

Farrell smiled and escorted Nerti closer to his guests. “Alicia, Peter, this is Queen Nerti.” Alicia curtsied, and her brother bowed.

Dipping her horn slightly, Nerti “spoke.”

“Greetings, children of Belsport. Welcome to Haven.”

Even with the warnings Miceral had provided, the pair looked at each other in astonishment. Alicia recovered first and managed to stammer out, “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s an honor to meet you.” Peter simply nodded vigorously.

“Nerti has asked two of her children, Natice and Nordric, to take you riding with us today.” When Miceral finished speaking, the two other unicorns cantered forward.

Remembering the apples they’d brought, Farrell selected two from his bag and then waved a hint to the others. One he gave Nerti immediately; the other went in his pocket. As soon as the unicorns finished eating, the group mounted, and Farrell opened a Door to the Plains of Gharaha.

Nerti had barely cleared the portal before she leapt forward and raced toward the southern edge of the plains. The others followed, leaving their riders thoroughly chilled. After an hour’s ride, Nerti broke away, challenging the others to give chase. Only Klissmor accepted, but even he couldn’t catch her as she ran full-out.

“Farrell.” Nerti slowed, waiting for the others to catch up. “Much as I enjoyed our ride, it is time for you to get back to Belsport and complete your work.”

Farrell delivered the news and let Nordric and Natice race each other back to the still-open Door. Once they all cleared the portal, Peter and Alicia dismounted. They gave their new friends another apple and said their good-byes. The unicorn twins nodded in unison and ran off. Nerti and Klissmor remained, showing no sign of leaving.

“We are accompanying you back to Belsport, Wizard,” Nerti said. When he gave her a confused stare, she added, “Belsport is now an ally of Haven. As Queen, I want to meet Wilhelm to be certain he can be trusted before I agree to this alliance.”

Farrell realized his mistake. “My apologies, Nerti. When Arritisa commanded the alliance, I never thought to speak to you about it. Please forgive me.”

“These apples and the ride were a good start toward earning my forgiveness.” She nodded toward the bag, prompting Farrell to give her another. “I don’t fault you, little one. You must do as the Goddess commanded. But as She did not speak to me, I would like to meet the prince for myself.”

Farrell stroked the area under her horn and was prepared to head inside when the door to the tunnel opened. Horgon and the three senior Haven wizards quickly exited and sealed the door.

“Nerti informed me that she and Klissmor are escorting you to Belsport,” Horgon said. “It seemed wisest to meet here.”

The idea made sense to Farrell, but he needed a bit more time before they left. “Peter and Alicia haven’t had time to collect their—”

“We can come back for our things,” Alicia interrupted.

“Right,” Peter agreed.

Farrell shrugged. “Given that accommodation”—he fetched his black battle staff—“I’m ready to return to Belsport.”

Chapter 26

WILHELM QUICKLY filled them in on the status of Meglar’s people. Using the information they had, Aderic had lured most of the would-be “rescue” team into a special holding cell. The constables easily rounded up the rest.

“I believe we have all but those who are not official representatives of the crown,” Darius explained. “If there are any wizards among them, I’ve not felt their presence.”

Without telling Wilhelm or Darius, Farrell asked Nerti and Klissmor to search for any wizards in hiding, and if they found any, to determine their allegiance. While they worked on that, Farrell checked the status of the shield.

Power flowed slowly into the central stone. The collection spell had been extended well into the city. That gathered enough new energy to provide a constant trickle to each of his stones. Darius opined they’d covered less than a third of the city. Given the rate of collection and the area covered, Farrell felt certain additional energy wouldn’t be needed to properly power the shield.

Today, however, the outer stones did not have enough power to sustain a test. Given the minimal power available to fuel them, he needed a quick fix.

“Everything is as I expected,” he said to Darius. “Power is trickling into each stone right now, but I expect that will increase once you bind more areas of the city. Unfortunately, the stones aren’t capable of generating a shield long enough to adequately test it. If everything is under control with Meglar’s wizards, we can speed this along.”

Conferring with Aderic, Darius nodded. “Things are well in hand. What did you have in mind?”

Noting the suspicion in Darius’s voice, Farrell shook his head. “Obviously, nothing as nefarious as you seem to suspect. I thought we’d all take a trip over the ocean.”

The sea held an abundance of free energy, if one could get to it. Since before Kel’s time, wizards had stood at the water’s edge, collecting as much energy as their talent permitted. It didn’t take long for the easy energy close to shore to be collected.

Another popular method required a wizard to book passage on an oceangoing vessel. The destination didn’t matter as long as the ship went into the open sea. Away from land, a wizard had weeks to fill every storage vessel they brought without other wizards vying for the same energy.

Farrell preferred a different approach: fly over the ocean and find a patch of open water rich with energy. Then he would float over the location until he had all the power he could carry. Of Haven’s wizards, only Cylinda could fly.

Gathering as many storage vessels as they could find, Farrell and Wesfazial left the shore, followed closely by Cylinda and Erstad. Moving far enough from the coast to avoid prying eyes, the pairs then split up to avoid trying to grab the same energy. Given how much energy they found, Farrell regretted not emptying all his stored energy before leaving.

Within a few minutes, the three older wizards had almost as much as they could hold. Over time, Farrell had created several superior storage vessels, able to hold far more than the ones most wizards used. Filling these took more time, so Cylinda took Wesfazial back with her and Erstad to allow Farrell to work faster.

Free from supporting Wesfazial, he quickly filled all but his staff. Farrell had spent weeks increasing its storage capacity. He’d woven so many spells and protections onto this staff that only a Source could contain more energy. Not only did it hold more, it absorbed power much faster than the average object. Even with the increased speed, it required ten minutes and two moves to fill his staff to near capacity.

Rather than waste time flying back, he opened a Door to the central stone. The others already waited for him. By agreement, his colleagues deposited half of what they collected into the reservoir. After they finished, Farrell emptied every vessel except his staff.

“You gave away far more than half of what you collected,” Wesfazial said.

Shaking his head, Farrell grinned, holding out his staff. “No, sir, not even close.”

“What in Honorus’s name have you wrought?” Cylinda touched the black wood gently. “It looks like a portable Source.”

Proud of his achievement, Farrell nodded. “Close. It holds vast amounts of energy, as you see, but it lacks the versatility of a Source.”

“Unless my old eyes are wrong, it’s almost full,” Wesfazial said in a wistful voice. “How did you collect so much so fast?”

“Like a Source, this staff soaks up energy like a sponge in a pail of water. Fifteen minutes in an energy-rich area of the ocean was enough to fill it up. Plus it wasn’t exactly empty when I left Haven.”

“I trust you’re happy with the amount of power added to the shield?” Erstad asked.

Farrell smiled broadly. “Absolutely. It’s months ahead of where it would be without our help. If they completely bind their city and the surrounding areas, in a few years, even Meglar will need to exert considerable efforts to bring this down.

“Will it ever be able to hold forever?” Cylinda asked.

“Forever is a difficult thing.” He checked the stones again to be sure he didn’t need to add energy from his staff. Tapping the staff to the stone, he transferred a third of its power, just to be sure. Satisfied, he returned it to his back. “I know how I would defeat this shield, and it’s possible that Meglar could figure out a means of bringing it down, given enough time. But the cost of doing so once the stones have absorbed years of power will be formidable.”

Guards escorted them to where Wilhelm met with his advisors. Darius and Aderic stared out the window, animatedly discussing something. They turned when Farrell and the others arrived.

“Great Arritisa!” Darius’s smile mirrored the Captain’s. “The power level in the outer stones has jumped. I see you had a successful trip.”

“Very.” Farrell joined them at the window. “If you think we have all of Meglar’s wizards in custody, I can complete the shield and we can test it.”

Darius and Aderic exchanged a tense look. “All but one,” Aderic said. “We believe she was the most powerful of his operatives. No one saw her leave, but she could have departed as soon as the other two were arrested.”

Farrell reached out to Nerti. “Your senses are better than mine. Outside of the holding cells, do you or Klissmor sense the presence of a wizard bound to Meglar?”

To the others, Farrell spoke out loud. “I’ve asked Nerti and Klissmor to scan the city for any of Meglar’s wizards.”

“They can do that?” Darius looked shocked.

Before he could answer, Nerti spoke to him. “We found only those held by the constables for miles around Belsport.”

“As always, you have my thanks.” He felt her mind slip away. “Nerti found none of Meglar’s wizards for miles around. I can complete the shield, if that’s acceptable to you, Your Majesty.”

“Please do.” Wilhelm seemed more excited than his usual stoic self.

“Won’t the sudden appearance of the shield create widespread panic?” Peter asked. “And what about people trying to enter the harbor or the main gate?”

“Your father has taken care of the latter two, setting up positions outside the harbor and main gate to temporarily stop people from entering.” Farrell turned to Aderic. “As for scaring the public, Aderic and the wizard constables are taking care of that.”

“My prince.” Aderic bowed to Peter. “The other constables have fanned out through the city and will work with Masters Darius, Erstad, and Wesfazial to cast an enchantment citywide. People will either not see the shield or simply ignore it as nothing of interest. Those in the Citadel won’t be affected.”

“Hopefully, it’ll work.” Farrell smirked at the other wizards. “When I’m done, we’ll see if you four can breach it.”

“Would be worth losing the fee to show up the kid,” Wesfazial grumbled. “You know it’ll work. Stop pretending.”

Grinning, Farrell floated off the balcony. Grabbing a link to each of the stones, he calculated where they would meet and floated below that point. When he activated the spell, a maelstrom of light erupted all around the city. Streams of energy in various shades of blue, green, violet, yellow, and red shot from each of the stones to just above Farrell’s head. For a moment it appeared they would explode, but he kept hold of the energy.

Adjusting the flow of power caused several streams to swap colors. Others took on different hues, while still others pulsed brighter or dimmer. Once he adjusted the flow from the stone in the ocean, he felt the energy working in harmony. Satisfied, he released his grip on the energy and turned off the spell. Waiting a moment, he turned it back on and watched.

Eighty-three different-colored columns of magical power exploded in unison, drawn to the same spot above the Citadel. When they met, a brief but intense flash filled the sky, and a translucent curtain of multicolored energy cascaded down to envelop the city in a dome of protection.

Probing the integrity of the shield, he smiled at his success. Descending slowly, Farrell landed on a balcony next to Wilhelm.

“It’s ready.” He nodded to the four wizards staring at the shield. “Let’s see if I’m as good as I say.” He stared at his mentor, daring him to say something.

Wesfazial gave him a wink and disappeared through a Door Darius opened. The four wizards reappeared outside the shield, paired off, and moved to different points. At what must have been a preset signal, the two groups began their attempt to breach the wall of energy.

Aderic stood next to his lord, acting as the prince’s magical advisor. Peering intently at the two points of attack, the captain turned toward Wilhelm. “What they’ve tried so far would have brought down any shield I know how to create. But this one shows no measurable decline in its power levels or its integrity.”

Wilhelm barely acknowledged the appraisal, causing Farrell to laugh. “The deal is struck, Wilhelm. Feel free to smile at any time.”

A small chuckle escaped the prince’s otherwise steely demeanor. “I’ll wait until they’re done before I celebrate.”

The attacks stopped, and they could see Wesfazial and Erstad rejoining Darius and Cylinda. Farrell, using his wizard sight, watched the new attack unfold.

“Interesting.” He nodded, impressed by what he saw. “I’m not sure I would’ve tried that, but it’s an innovative attempt.”

“I see nothing.” Wilhelm turned to his constable, who shook his head.

“I don’t recognize the spell, Your Majesty,” Aderic confessed. “All I see is the two Haven wizards trying to overpower the shield by brute force. What Lord Darius and Cylinda are doing, I couldn’t say.”

Farrell never took his eyes off the shield, wanting to see the effects. “It’s called Piercing Needles, Captain.”

He continued to watch for a moment longer, then turned toward the prince. “Erstad and Wesfazial combined their strength and focused it on one very narrow place. While they stressed that one point, Darius and Cylinda each used variations of the same spell. It’s normally used against unprotected or lightly protected troops. Thousands of slivers of energy are thrown at high speeds. Being small and powerful, they can generally pierce a weakened shield. By combining the two, Darius no doubt tried to slip a Needle through, which he hoped would give him a beachhead from which he could punch a hole.”

“I take it he failed?” Wilhelm still watched the attempt to pierce the shield.

“He did, but even had he gotten his one Needle through, the energy is oscillating so quickly that the hole would be gone before he could’ve exploited it.”

The attacks continued for another twenty minutes before the four tired wizards ceased their efforts and returned. Darius went straight to Wilhelm, bowing his head before speaking.

“Lord Wilhelm, we tried everything we could think of and didn’t even dent it.” Eyes twinkling, he smiled wildly. “Give it a few more months to charge, and we’ll be well protected indeed.”

“Excellent.” Wilhelm nodded to an aide, who snapped to attention. “Lord Horgon, if you would go with my assistant, he will see that the money is transferred to Haven, and we can complete this trade.”

Horgon inclined his head to the prince and followed the clerk out of the room. Smiling, Wilhelm turned to his guests. “And everyone is invited to a celebratory dinner to honor the new trade agreement, new alliance, and, most of all, the amazing work by our friend and ally, Prince Farrell of Haven.”

The unexpected attention gave Farrell an uneasy moment. Partially stifling a yawn, he turned red when everyone laughed. He needed a nap before the evening’s activities.

Chapter 27

FARRELL
WOKE to find Miceral sitting on the bed, stroking his hair. “Time to get up. Dinner is in an hour.”

Looking up through sleepy eyes, he smiled. “I love you, Miceral. I don’t tell you nearly enough, but I do.”

Still stroking his hair, Miceral smiled back. “I see it all the time from the way you look at me. I hope you see the same feelings reflected back, because I love you more than I can say.” He bent over and kissed Farrell before he hopped off the bed.

Reluctantly, Farrell rose to get ready. Washed and shaved, he found clothes set out for him when he returned to their room.

Miceral held up his hands when Farrell looked his way. “Father set those out. Don’t blame me.”

“You’re the Prince of Haven,” Horgon said, standing in the doorway. “It’s important for others to see that when they look at you.”

As much as Farrell hated formal clothing, he couldn’t find too much fault with what Horgon had selected. Dressing quickly, he scowled at the plain gold crown sitting on a cushion.

“A crown?” Farrell summoned it to him with a thought. “Horgon, why must I wear a crown? I’m a wizard, not a king.”

“Actually, you are the King of Yar-del.” Miceral took the circle of gold from his partner and set it carefully on his head. “But more to the point, you are the Prince of Haven and that means you need to be both.”

Adjusting the crown, Farrell used the mirror to stare at his partner. “Gods of Nendor, but you look good all dressed up. Why don’t we skip the party and stay here tonight?”

“Don’t even think about it, either of you,” Horgon said, standing in the doorway, shaking his head. “The dinner is in your honor, Farrell.”

Trying to frown, he almost laughed from the attempt. “If they’re trying to thank me for my work, shouldn’t it be fun for me? A formal dinner, no matter the reason, is never a favorite of mine.”

Horgon looked completely unswayed. “Such a poor, suffering soul. I’m not sure how you stand the pain. Find a way to soldier through, because you’re going.”

Slipping his hand into Miceral’s, Farrell sighed. “Has he always been like this?”

“No, he used to be worse.” Miceral motioned toward the door, letting Farrell lead the way. “In years past, I’d have gotten a stern lecture to go with the command.”

Horgon turned on his heel, muttering something Farrell didn’t catch, though it sounded like “children.”

Their honor guard escorted them to a large dining hall. Farrell managed to keep in good spirits until he saw the room packed with the cream of Belsport’s social elite. Several of the guards gripped their weapons tighter when he mentioned turning Wilhelm into a field mouse and calling in the cats.

Doing his best to keep his pace proper and not glare at the people gawking, Farrell regretted not telling Horgon to go alone. Being prince had to have some perks. They’d just taken their seats on either side of Wilhelm when he heard Darius groan and felt a surge. So much for a celebration.

“Darius.” He gripped the older man by the arms. “Where?”

“What’s happening?” Wilhelm stood next to him, gaze moving from Darius to Farrell.

“My… my… lord.” Darius’s eyes rolled back until only the bottoms of his green irises were visible. Ignoring the demands of Belsport’s prince, Farrell reached into Darius’s mind to keep him conscious. Blocking the feedback from the shattered spell, Farrell steadied his friend’s pulse, allowing him to recover. Grabbing the nearest goblet, he turned the strong ale into water and gave it to Darius.

“Where?” Farrell asked again.

Swallowing the rest of the cup, Darius nodded. “Warehouse district, southeast of the Citadel.”

“Majesty, you’re under attack.” Farrell’s eyes searched for Erstad, Wesfazial, and Cylinda, who ignored everyone and made their way to the head table. “Meglar overpowered Darius’s control of the city and opened a Door.”

Ignoring everyone again, he searched for help. “Nerti?”

“I felt it, Wizard.” Her tone told him she understood the seriousness of the situation. “I’m contacting Rothdin to summon aid.”

“My thanks.” He broke the link to speak to Wilhelm.

“Nerti is contacting Haven to send reinforcement. Erstad or Wesfazial will open a Door to bring them through.” Noting the look in the prince’s eyes, he shook his head. “My apologies if I’m giving orders in your city, but I understand the situation better than you at this point.”

“Understood.” Wilhelm showed no signs he felt slighted by Farrell’s actions. Nodding crisply, he snapped his fingers at the nearest guards.

Turning to his friends, Farrell spotted Miceral moving closer out of the corner of his eye. “One of you three has to stay and defend the prince and his family. Don’t leave, no matter what.”

Wesfazial finished handing Darius a new cup of water and nodded. “I’ll stay here.”

“How did this happen?” Erstad asked.

“Meglar overpowered the lock Darius had on Belsport and opened a Door for his troops.” His mind jumped to several different issues. He barely thought about his answer.

“How?” His mentor almost glared at him.

The question focused him for a moment. “Must have something to do with the wizard who escaped Wilhelm’s detention, but I can’t be sure.”

Wilhelm returned with a young, scared-looking wizard constable. “I’ve sent word for Aderic, but he’s already in the city leading the counterattack.”

“I must join him.” Darius still looked pale but seemed a bit steadier.

Getting the barest nod from Erstad and Cylinda, Farrell fetched his battle staff from their suite. “Erstad and Cylinda will join you.”

Darius motioned for the two Haven wizards and stepped off. Farrell watched for a heartbeat, then turned his attention back to Wilhelm.

“Wilhelm, you need to stay in the Citadel. Meglar wouldn’t launch a full-scale attack through one Door. He may be after you and your family.” He wondered briefly if the prince understood the limitations of Doors and their role in warfare, but the nod he received satisfied him that Wilhelm understood enough. “Wesfazial will remain to protect you and the island.”

“My thanks.” Wilhelm turned to the older man. “Come with me.”

The prince spun on his heels and moved toward the exit. Without a word, Wesfazial followed. Farrell turned his attention to his task.

“Do you trust me?” he asked Miceral.

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

Instead of answering, Farrell concentrated and executed the spell. A small flash later and Miceral wore his mail shirt and greaves with both swords strapped over his back.

“Sorry, time is short and we need to go.” Pointing toward Horgon, he summoned his father-in-law’s armor and sword. “Horgon, will you stay with Wesfazial and Wilhelm? Other than Miceral, you’re the only one in Belsport who can challenge a Chamdon.”

As Horgon nodded, a small tremor shook the Citadel. If Meglar’s wizards had made it this far this fast, Wilhelm must be their target. Motioning for Miceral to follow, Farrell moved toward the window.

“We need to get to the Door and shut it down.” Holding out his hand, he stepped off the balcony once Miceral made contact.

Around the left side of the palace, Farrell took them south. Searching for Meglar’s portal, he quickly located the magic that kept it open. “To shut the Door, I need to touch it. I’ll rebind the city once it’s gone, but unfortunately, the Door is where Meglar’s forces will be the heaviest.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Farrell felt the hint of anger in Miceral’s mental voice. “Without knowing for sure, I suspect Meglar opened the Door. It’s doubtful anyone else could have bested Darius, certainly not that fast. If he opened it, he’ll be monitoring it and will sense my attempt to take it down.”

“And?” This time Miceral was angry. “Don’t withhold information. We’re about to run into the teeth of the storm. I need to know what we’re facing.”

“Once Meglar feels my presence, he’ll not sit by and let a powerful wizard oppose his plans. I doubt he’ll expect what I’m going to do, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let me do it unopposed. He might try to attack me through the open Door or he might come here himself. It’s unlikely, however, that this is a full-scale invasion, so he won’t be prepared to come here. That means Meglar will attack from Zargon, which is only marginally better than being here himself.”

Miceral didn’t answer, which made Farrell happy. He didn’t want to dwell on what would happen if his father showed up.

“We’re almost there.” Farrell could see the glow of the Door. Figures ran in all directions, and he could hear the grunts and snarls of Chamdon as they adjusted to their new surroundings and new commands. “We need to come at the Door from the front so I can block it off while I close it. Once we get there, I need you to keep everyone off me for a minute, two at most. After the Door is down, we can leave.”

“I’ll keep them off you as long as you need.” Farrell drew strength from the certainty in Miceral’s voice.

Raising Miceral’s hand to his lips, Farrell kissed it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Pulling their hands to his lips, Miceral repeated the kiss. “Don’t do anything foolish. Shut it down, and let’s get out of here.”

An empty space about a block from the Door caught Farrell’s attention, and he quickly set them on the ground. Human soldiers, Chamdon, and the odd wizard continued to exit the open portal.

“Straight to the Door.” Farrell pointed ahead. “I’ll clear a path for us. Just keep them off us as we pass.”

Miceral, jaw clenched tight, nodded. “Let’s go.”

Grasping his staff near the center with both hands, Farrell created a cocoon of violet energy about Miceral and himself. “This will protect you from magical attacks.” Separating his staff at the middle, he nodded to Miceral and charged headlong into the chaos in front of them.

Screaming as they ran, they startled everyone in their immediate path. Farrell crossed the two staffs and sent a sheet of energy to lead the way. For a moment, they had a clear path to the Door. The wall of force went through the Door, temporarily stemming the flow of troops into Belsport.

The pair raced past the stunned invaders, which seemed to confuse them more. Two wizard handlers sent Chamdon in the direction where Farrell and Miceral would be expected to make a stand, only to try to regain control of the confused creatures when the two moved deeper behind enemy lines.

Halfway through the gauntlet, they encountered their first real threat when several wizards fired balls of energy at them. The attacks proved more nuisance than deterrent, but dealing with them slowed their pace. This close to their target, Farrell let loose a blistering assault.

Several Chamdon who had avoided his initial attack charged from both sides. The need to reach their goal quickly outweighed the need to conserve energy for a prolonged fight, so he took a sledgehammer approach to killing the mindless shock troops.

“Get ready.” He didn’t have time to check on Miceral. “I’m going to clear a path for us.”

“Tell me when.”

The ends of his staff bristled with power as he focused his will on the platinum caps. Running made it tricky, but he’d cast harder spells in battle many times. Satisfied he had sufficient power, he forced the tips toward each other, creating a bubble of bluish energy between them. Filling the sphere with energy, he then compacted the globe before sending it ahead of him.

Halfway to the Door, he fired a blast of energy at the bubble. A shock wave of destruction flared from the sphere and washed over everything in the area. Those closest to the explosion died before their brains registered what had happened. Windows shattered, doors broke, several buildings lost walls, but most importantly, soldiers dropped. None of Meglar’s troops survived within a hundred-yard radius of the blast.

The pair used the lack of resistance to sprint for the Door. Despite the reprieve, Farrell knew his attack would bring others to investigate. Just before they reached their target, a wizard and several Chamdon appeared on the Zargon side of the Door. Though the wizard stood, jaw open, frozen in place, the company of warped brutes charged headlong at Farrell. A wall of fiery green energy erupted from his hand and seared the front third of the creatures. He then hurled the corpses back toward their handler.

Before anyone else could get through, Farrell covered the Belsport side with a sheet of flesh-dissolving energy. Several garbled screams followed by a frightened shriek told him it would be at least a few moments before anyone else attempted to rush through the Door.

Two blocks north of their position, a knot of Chamdon and a human handler turned the corner, rushing toward them.

“Keep them off me.” Farrell couldn’t spare the time to turn to look at Miceral. “If you can’t hold them, let me know.”

“Handle your task and don’t worry about me.” Miceral almost sounded offended.

Nodding without knowing if Miceral watched, Farrell probed the dark energy of the Door. It wouldn’t be long before the Chamdon attacked Miceral. He could also sense someone assailed the force field blocking the entrance from Zargon to Belsport. As he searched deeper, looking for the newest edge of the Door, he felt the first attack on the force shield.

“Whatever you’re going to do, make it fast.” With Miceral’s warning came the sounds of fighting nearby. “I see shapes coming from the west. I won’t be able to protect you if they attack from two directions.”

“Almost done.” At least, so he hoped. When he heard the sounds of fighting get closer, he redoubled his efforts, knowing he didn’t have long. The attacks on the barricade he’d put in front of the Door stopped just as a dark presence probed the energy. He had run out of time.

Dropping his staff, he grabbed the energy line composing the left side of the Door with his right hand, swung around the back, and took the other line in his left. Through his personal shields, he still felt the destructive Door energy burning his hands.

With a short burst of will, Farrell forced as much power as he could channel through the sides of the Door and let go. A massive surge of dark energy, focused on his shield, coincided with his efforts. The air around the Door seemed to buckle outward, causing distortions he didn’t need wizard sight to see.

The bulge crept forward, slowing as it moved. After it stopped, it suddenly snapped back, and the Door imploded in its wake. Anything not shielded on the Zargon side wouldn’t survive the explosion. From the feel of the attack, he hoped it had been Meglar, but he didn’t expect his father went anywhere without his personal shield at full power. Pity. The bards would have sung about his death for ages if he’d died in the blast.

Success, however, did not come without a price. Despite his shields, Farrell sustained severe burns to his hands. In spots, the burns charred the flesh almost to the bone. Farrell pushed the pain aside to complete his mission. Retrieving his staff, he cast the spell and slammed his staff onto the cobbled street. Sparks flew as the metal end hit stone, and a ripple of blue-white light sped off in all directions. No one could open another Door into Belsport without his permission.

Pain lanced through his body from his damaged hands. Despite his attempt not to, he screamed. He sank to his knees, and his staff hit the ground with a loud clank.

Miceral spun around, striking a Chamdon in the face, sending it flying back into two others. Shoving his left sword into one shaken creature’s chest, he parried a blow from the other. A quick twist pushed the last Chamdon’s clumsily used sword to the ground, providing a clear shot at its head. Before the severed head hit the ground, Miceral ran back toward Farrell.

Farrell stared at the mass of raw, charred, oozing red flesh his hands had become. Almost every part of both hands had been burned.

“What in the Holy Mother’s name did you do?” Miceral’s question barely registered as Farrell concentrated on trying to heal his hands. He managed to numb the pain but nothing else. Only a master healer could fix this. Lifting his eyes from his hands to his partner, he held back the tears.

“Door energy is extremely destructive. I miscalculated the strength of my shield, and the energy ate through to my hands.” Sensing the approach of more Chamdon, he knew their survival depended on him being able to hold and use his staff. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he pushed past the agony and used his healing talent to turn off his pain receptors.

“Why would you do such a foolish thing?” Miceral tried to grab his hands, but Farrell had already encased them in a new set of energy gloves.

“The Door needed to be closed; I shut it.” The pain reduced to a memory, Farrell channeled healing energy to his ruined hands. It wouldn’t heal them, but they wouldn’t get worse either. With nothing more he could do, he reached for his staff.

Miceral stopped him. “What in Neblor do you think you’re doing? There’s no way you can touch anything with those hands.”

Using magic, Farrell moved Miceral aside to pick up his staff. “If I can’t hold this, we will die. In case you forgot, we are deep into the area controlled by Meglar’s forces.”

“You need to see a healer before I let you use that again.” Miceral reached for the staff, but Farrell’s shield kept him at bay. “I’m not kidding. Give it to me.”

“If we stay here, I won’t live to see a healer.” He spun the thick black wood in his hand. “I’ve blocked the pain and protected my hands so I won’t further damage them.”

Any further discussion ended when Farrell heard the jingle of badly fitting armor and booted feet on stone. Movement caught his eye from the street to his left, and he noted Miceral looking in the same direction.

“We need to move.” Miceral didn’t wait for Farrell to answer before heading north.

Following behind, he thanked Honorus that Miceral couldn’t see his face. In his rush to get to the Door, he’d forgotten the first rule of wizardry: always know how much power you have before you act. When they flew away from the Citadel, he hadn’t replenished his supplies. And while that still left him with more than most master wizards could store, he had already used a significant amount getting to and destroying the Door. Shielding them both and keeping a small but constant stream of energy flowing to his hands ate into his reserves.

Midway through the block, a company of Chamdon turned the corner. Upon seeing them, the snarling creatures lurched forward. With a burst of speed, Miceral moved ahead to engage their enemies.

Like a man gone berserk, Miceral tore into the Chamdon. In a blur of motion, his swords wove a deadly dance, cutting through armor, flesh, bones, anything in their way. Sending the head of one Chamdon flying off a building, Miceral spun to his left, bringing his sword down to split the last attacker from head to groin.

Wading through the blood and carnage, Farrell caught up with Miceral at the end of the street. A chill raced down Farrell’s back when Miceral turned around, a grim, determined expression on his face. Farrell grabbed Miceral’s hand to keep him from moving again.

“I’m going to fly us out of here.” Gathering his energy, he’d initiated the spell when his body exploded in pain, forcing him to his knees.

“What… what’s wrong?” Miceral’s mental scream hurt almost as much as the pain in his chest and arms.

“Stupid.” Why didn’t he think before he acted? “I’m fine now. I just forgot magic burns injured flesh when it passes through. I can’t fly us out without skin-to-skin contact, and that hurts too much for me to focus on the spell.”

“Then don’t use magic anymore.” His blue eyes glared at Farrell. “I’ll get us out of here.”

“I can use magic if I focus it through my staff.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t run out. “But I’ll keep it in reserve for now.”

They’d gone a few blocks when they encountered a staging area for Meglar’s troops. Several wizards, including two midlevel masters, conferred in the center of four large groups of Chamdon.

“Trouble.” Farrell took a moment to assess the wizards’ full powers. “There are two wizards strong enough to delay us. Let me cloak us before we continue.”

Miceral’s eyes narrowed, boring into Farrell as if looking for an answer. “Fine, but we’re going straight across, no stopping.”

He gave his lover a reassuring smile. “Agreed.”

“Stay with me.” Miceral’s expression never softened. “I waited a lifetime to find you. I won’t lose you now.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Farrell leaned in and kissed Miceral’s cheek, breaking the warrior’s scowl. “You be careful too. Nothing crazy.”

Using the power from his staff, Farrell raised a cloak, aware the Chamdon could still sense them. He’d yet to figure out how, but he didn’t have the time to resolve that issue now. Carefully, he and Miceral moved past broken, empty stalls once part of a vibrant outdoor market. The open space measured twice as wide east to west as it did north to south. Two streets crossed the open area from the east. To the north, across the square, the road they used continued toward the Citadel.

Chamdon milled about, barely organized, in groups of roughly fifty. The handlers seemed to be having trouble keeping them calm. Without a target, Chamdon needed to be put to rest or they grew unsettled. Apparently this group of wizards had never dealt with the problem before.

To Farrell’s eye, the enemy appeared to be guarding the western and northern streets, the same direction he and Miceral needed to go. Despite the position of the Chamdon squads, they set off down the middle of the square, hoping to avoid contact.

Making use of the noise and confusion, the pair quickly passed the first westbound street. Miceral never deviated from his original goal—the northern exit.

“If we make it to the next street, can you bar anyone else from following?” Miceral asked.

“Easily.”

“Good.” Without turning, Miceral pointed due north of them. “When we get closer, we’ll sprint for that street. The Chamdon will sense us, but if we run, they shouldn’t be able to fix on us until we’re past them.”

They moved cautiously, keeping alert for signs anyone noticed them. Focused north, Farrell didn’t see two Chamdon wander toward them from the group to their left. When they started sniffing, a wizard turned. For a moment, Farrell thought he would order them back, but the man’s eyes went wide, and he pointed in their direction.

“They’re sniffing!” he shouted. “Just as the emperor warned us!”

Farrell separated his staff and blasted the two Chamdon, then the wizard. He hoped it would add to the confusion and give them more time to escape. “Run.”

Even though Miceral and Farrell were cloaked, Chamdon and wizards began to converge on them. Running hard, Farrell dropped their invisibility when he saw handlers sending Chamdon in their direction.

“We’re visible,” he told Miceral, sending several fiery green balls at their enemy. “They’re using Chamdon to find us. I need the energy to strengthen our shields.”

The Zargonian company coming from their left abruptly stopped and ran north. Before he could try to stop them, Farrell felt an attack from the rear. Turning, he saw the Chamdon from the south moving forward, attempting to surround them. Sensing a powerful shield ahead of them, he returned his attention north. One of the master wizards had linked with several of the lesser wizards and erected a shield around the Chamdon charging at Miceral.

“They’re trying to encircle us.” He pointed his staff at the enemy and tried to punch a hole in the line of Chamdon blocking their way. The first strike caused the shield to ripple, eliciting a grunt from one low-level wizard. His second blast struck a Chamdon in the chest when the wizard took down the shield to prevent backlash.

“This wizard is better than most.” He eyed the man, trying to gauge his talent. Miceral slowed to handle the Chamdon closing on them. Farrell used the time to test the master wizard’s personal shields. They proved strong enough that he spun around to deal with the wizards behind him first.

He pushed both halves of his staff onto the ground and sent a small tremor toward the enemy running after them. The earth around the Chamdon and wizards erupted in a shower of dirt and rock. In the confusion, Farrell targeted the wizards first, taking out the other master wizard and all but one lesser mage. He quickly fired a ball of red energy that expanded into a thin line and sliced through the unprotected Chamdon as it moved. Free from an attack from behind, he returned his attention north.

Ahead of him, Miceral was prepared to engage the Chamdon headed their way when a wave of fire washed over him and the creature. The shield around him repelled the flames, but it startled Miceral enough that he flinched and came to a halt.

Another two companies charged into the square from the east. The group from the west reversed course again and returned to guard the western exits. The newly arrived troops fanned out, blocking the roads to the east. Farrell steadied Miceral, adding a bit more strength to his partner’s shield.

“I’ve enough energy left that I can probably blast our way through what’s in front of us, but if we encounter any wizards beyond the square, I’ll be hard-pressed to handle them.”

“Save it.” Miceral scanned the area around them. “We might need it later.”

“Wizard.” A voice called from the group that blocked their way to the north. “Surrender. There’s no escape. You’re surrounded on three sides, and more troops are coming as we speak.”

Farrell forced as natural a laugh as he could manage. “Surrender? Why would I do something so foolish when I hold the upper hand? It is you who should surrender.”

“If you think that, then you are truly the fool. Look around….”

Farrell drowned out his opponent’s voice with a spell. “Your Door is down by my hand; I killed every wizard and Chamdon to the south with a thought; I repelled your pathetic attack on my sword mate, and you think I’m the fool? Does Meglar require you to be as stupid as he is in order to serve him?”

While the wizards checked on the Door, Farrell quietly cast a spell. Unnoticed, a small dark cloud formed over his enemies. Noting the worried looks on the faces of a few, he laughed. “You lot truly are worthless. No wonder Meglar sent you to Belsport to die. Did none of you bother to look? Even a novice could tell my aura is brighter than Meglar’s. I outclass all of you combined, and you think to trade blows with me? In enemy territory? When your only means of retreat has been shattered against the will of your master? Pathetic.”

He watched with satisfaction as most of the wizards stared at him with wide eyes. “I see some of you realize how little Meglar values your lives. He sent you to your deaths just as he does his Chamdon.”

“Which way?” Farrell noted several of the wizards arguing with the master wizard he assumed led the attack. He reached out to the central stone and found it nearly empty. Darius and the wizard constables no doubt needed the energy. Taking a small line, he linked it to his slowly building cloud. With a bit of time, he’d have a nasty surprise for his foes. “I’ve used their hesitation to prepare a few counterattacks. Tell me where and when, and I’m ready.”

Flashing him the barest hint of a smile, Miceral inclined his head north. “I say we keep to our original plan and head north.”

“North it is.” Farrell steeled himself for whatever it took to get Miceral out safely. “Let me give them something to worry about before we go.”

Raising his eyes, he saw the large, unnatural black cloud slowly descending over the square. Aiming one staff at the wizards in front of him and the other to the sky, he fired green blasts of power at both. The sizzling energy struck the shield erected by the eight wizards to the north. The assault continued long enough that they ignored the cloud above them.

Farrell used the diversion to pick off two of the weaker wizards before they could reinforce their shields. Getting the attention of the surviving wizards, he braced for the onslaught he knew would follow. “Get ready.”

Wizard fire struck him on three sides, mildly surprising him with its strength. “Desperate men are dangerous men,” Sanduval used to say. But Farrell had taken no chances, and his shields easily repelled the attacks.

“Let’s go,” he told Miceral, launching a new attack on the Chamdon ahead of them. As Farrell hoped, a new shield quickly appeared to protect these troops. The energy from his attack hit the shield, covering it in a wall of bluish fire. Using the energy of his enemy’s shield, Farrell trapped the Chamdon inside. Left alone, the fire would burn itself out, but Meglar’s wizards tried to bring it down, stoking the flames.

With their closest adversaries effectively walled off, Farrell followed Miceral north. As he hoped, between the trapped Chamdon and their movement, no one paid attention to the dark cloud he’d slowly been feeding energy to. Watching his opponents, Farrell sent a command to his spell the moment Zargon’s wizards turned their magic on him.

Flashes of different-colored lightning sizzled the air, leaving a burnt odor as they targeted only wizards. The first strikes would be the strongest, so Farrell waited to see their effect before attacking the wizards himself. Despite leaving his flank exposed, Farrell decided he’d focus his attacks on those barring their way.

Of the wizards in front of him, one turned into a charred corpse, her personal shield too weak to displace the amount of raw power directed against it. Two others got singed but lived only seconds more. Farrell targeted these two, firing a succession of fiery energy balls that swept away the remains of their shields. Unprotected, they were hurled back several yards by the force of the attack.

Wizards in the other companies died as well, but Farrell couldn’t spare the attention to find out how many. With fewer targets, the next round of lightning proved almost as powerful as the first. One of the four wizards between them and their escape route screamed in agony as lightning caused thousands of tiny tendrils to arch between his shield and his body. When the shield failed, the burned, smoldering body hit the ground, kicking up dust.

His cloud had one less-powerful round of strikes left. He held it in reserve, letting the cloud replenish some of its power before he used it again. The remaining wizards drew closer, erecting a powerful shield Farrell doubted the lightning could penetrate.

Maintaining that new shield meant their enemy couldn’t spare the power to launch a meaningful attack. A standoff suited his purpose, so Farrell sent token attacks to encourage them to focus on protecting themselves.

“Farrell! To your left!” Miceral’s desperate voice made him turn just in time to see two Chamdon charging him with swords raised.

Chapter 28

FARRELL
TURNED quickly to face the new threat. Weeks of training kicked in, and he rebalanced his weight, preparing to meet the attack. Forcing energy to the tips of his staff, he spun the halves into position to strike. He’d readied a spell to turn the lead brute into ashes when its face exploded in a shower of blood, flesh, and brains. The second Chamdon met a similar fate a heartbeat later.

Farrell looked up to see Grohl and Takala, wings spread wide, soaring upward, the limp bodies of their lifeless enemies dangling from their claws.

“We thought you could use a talon, brother!” Takala’s exuberance had Farrell laughing.

The square suddenly swarmed with activity. Companies of Belsport’s city guard accompanied by teams of wizard constables poured in from the north and west. Dozens of peregrines glided into the open space, dropping fully armored, angry Muchari warriors. Ostert was among the newcomers, and he gave Farrell the barest of nods before he swept across the open space to attack a confused Chamdon.

Chaos ruled the square for a moment as dead Chamdon rained down on Meglar’s troops. Farrell’s brothers and the other peregrines swooped down, snatching Chamdon from the ground before quickly dropping the bloody corpses among the other defenders. The remaining wizards proved no challenge for Belsport’s wizard constables. Working together, the constables quickly killed or subdued the remaining Zargonian wizards.

No longer under attack, Farrell searched for places to help. Noting a few human soldiers aiming crossbows skyward, Farrell focused his attention on protecting the peregrines. He killed three soldiers before the last one managed to fire a bolt. Following its path, Farrell shattered it just before it struck. The look of terror on the archer’s face lasted only until his intended target dug her claws into the man’s head and hauled him skyward in one swift movement.

Behind the initial reinforcements, Farrell saw a determined Nerti and Klissmor leading a troop of unicorns, each bearing a Muchari. Erstad rode Nerti, and Klissmor brought Master Baylec to the fight. Dozens more trailed their Queen, fanning out as they reached the open space.

Bereft of handlers, the remaining Chamdon proved easy to isolate and kill. The few remaining human soldiers quickly surrendered. Baylec led the Haven troops east to help subdue the remaining enemy. Farrell noted the barely controlled zeal Baylec and the others displayed when searching for Meglar’s forces.

Erstad remained with the troops left to guard the square. Nerti walked toward Farrell as he removed the energy skins protecting himself and Miceral. Her gaze locked on Farrell’s hands, which still had the healing energy around them.

“Child, what did you do?” Her tone lacked the reproach he expected. When Erstad turned toward them, Farrell knew she spoke to more than just him.

“What’s wrong with your hands?” Erstad left the others and walked over.

Miceral thwarted Farrell’s attempt to find the best explanation by speaking first. “He grabbed the sides of a Door and got severely burned in the process.”

While Miceral didn’t understand the full ramification of what he said, Erstad did.

“Great Holy Honorus, what on Nendor did you think you were doing?” Erstad’s raised voice drew the attention of several Belsport guards. “Even novice wizards know not to touch, let alone grab, the lines of a Door. Let me see your hands. Now!”

Putting aside his embarrassment, Farrell turned his hands so his mentor could see what his foolishness had cost him.

Erstad’s face paled as he stared intently at Farrell’s injuries. “I have no idea what demon took hold of you to make you do this. What were you thinking?”

“When we reached the Door, troops and wizards were still exiting. It needed to be closed. Initially, I blocked the exit while I searched for the ends of the spell, but before I found it, I felt someone probe my barricade. Given what it took to overpower Darius, I assumed Meglar was behind the Door and the one—”

“Wait, you were searching for the ends of the spell? Why?” Erstad appeared confused.

“Yes, so I could unravel it.” Feeling uncomfortable meeting his mentor’s stare, he looked at Nerti, hoping for support. Her eyes bristled with anger.

“Foolish child!” Her words stung like a sharp slap. “You were not chosen by the Six so you could toss your life away on some grandiose adventure.”

Before he could explain, Erstad started questioning him again. “Unravel the spell? What in Neblor does that mean?”

“Turn it off.” How could Erstad not understand? “If I had located the beginning, I could have undone the spell.”

Shaking his head, Erstad waited a moment before responding. “I don’t begin to understand what you’re talking about, but we can discuss that later. You still haven’t explained why you grabbed the energy lines.”

“The Door had to be shut. I couldn’t risk Meglar coming through. I grabbed the lines and forced more energy into them than they could hold. That made the Door implode.”

Erstad stood there, a look of disbelief on his face. “Boy, we need to have a long talk about what goes on in your head.”

Farrell shrugged. “When we have time, I can explain how I came up with this procedure. But tell me what’s happening.”

“After you two flew off”—the look on the elder man’s face made plain his disapproval—“Darius, Cylinda, and I made it to the front gate to assess what we were facing. Several low-level masters led the attack on the palace. Fortunately, Darius is every bit as competent as we suspected, and the palace had enough protection to withstand the attack long enough for the three of us to quash it.”

Farrell tried to ask another question, but Miceral grabbed him under his shoulders and hoisted him onto Nerti’s back. “Enough talk. Farrell needs a master healer to look at his hands. You can talk once he has been treated.

“Nerti, will you send word to Wilhelm that Farrell has been severely injured and requires the services of his best healer? If the Door to Haven is still open, ask that Master Heather come herself.” Miceral glared at Farrell, cutting off any protest. “This isn’t negotiable! You’re going to see the healers now!”

When Miceral took a breath, Farrell spoke up. “I was going to say, why not let Nerti heal me?”

“I cannot heal this wound.” She shook her horn. “If I tried, your hands would be healed as they are now, with nothing done to repair the damage.”

“But you healed my shoulder. How is this different?”

“The healer repaired the damage. All I did was hasten the process.” Nerti sounded irritated. “No amount of arguing will change what I’m capable of doing. You’re going to see the healers now.”

She turned to Miceral and fixed her eyes on him. “Get behind him. You’re coming with us.”

Miceral wrapped his arms around Farrell’s waist, and they rode north toward the Citadel.

“Wilhelm has been told to provide his chief healer.” Nerti’s choice of words made Farrell smirk. Even in Belsport, she told people what to do. “I told Haven to dispatch as many healers as are available and made clear Master Heather was to treat your injury.”

Without thinking, Farrell groaned at the thought of Master Heather treating him. “Haven’t I suffered enough that you summoned her? She’ll give me another stinging lecture on my lack of concern for my personal safety, my reckless behavior, and my unrivaled ability to injure myself in new and unique ways.”

“You do this often?” Miceral asked.

“Often is too strong a word.” Even though Miceral couldn’t see him, Farrell looked sheepish. “I’ve required her assistance a few times in my life. Between opposing Meglar and attempting new spells, the opportunity for injury is common.”

“I think I’m going to join Erstad and others when they talk to you about this episode. You have a knack for getting injured, seriously injured.”

Farrell knew he couldn’t win this argument so he kept silent.

Nerti’s deceptively fast gait had them to the now heavily guarded docks directly across from Prince’s Island. Soldiers and constables snapped to attention as Nerti came to a halt. A wizard constable motioned them to follow her and led them to the edge of the water. She placed a small rock on top of a chest-high stone column, and a white road of energy, wide enough for several horses to ride abreast, spanned the water to the island. Nerti never acknowledged the woman as she galloped across the bridge.

Prince’s Island buzzed with activity. Palace guards patrolled with units from the city guard, constables, and wizard constables. Dozens of soldiers from Haven stood watch around the island, with vigilant peregrines perched on every tower.

Nerti came to a halt before several serious guards who ordered them to stop. Nerti’s irritation made her “voice” so loud, it caused several guards to grab their heads. Being forced to wait didn’t improve her mood.

“Ridiculous!” she said. “These silly humans know who you and I are. There is no need to stop us and get clearance from that man in the palace.”

Farrell laughed at her description of Wilhelm. “Be calm. My condition isn’t dire and won’t get worse while we wait for permission.”

Less than a minute later, a page dressed in the prince’s colors came running toward them. “Prince Wilhelm commands you to let Queen Nerti pass.”

Farrell winked at the teen, who, despite being many years younger than the guard captain, conveyed his authority with little difficulty.

A worried-looking Horgon met them at the entrance to the Citadel. To Farrell’s surprise, Wilhelm stood there as well. Miceral hoisted him off Nerti’s back, and Horgon immediately reached for Farrell’s hands. In one motion, he turned them over. The look of concern when Horgon saw the damaged flesh hurt Farrell more than his injuries.

“Holy Mother of the Sea, what happened?” Wilhelm took a look, then motioned to his guards. “Let’s go.”

“In closing Meglar’s Door, I misjudged the strength of my shields when I grabbed the lines of energy.”

Taking another look, Horgon released Farrell’s hands. “By the Six, that’s got to hurt, son.”

That Horgon called him “son” still took getting used to, but Farrell felt a twinge of joy hearing it.

“He’s blocking the pain at the moment.” Miceral’s continual disapproval took away the small smile that crept onto Farrell’s face. “Has Master Healer Heather arrived yet?”

“I’ve been told she’s on the way…,” Horgon said. “Nerti said blocking the pain is almost as… foolish as grabbing the energy lines.”

Farrell didn’t need to look over. He could feel Nerti’s anger. “It can be. If you don’t feel pain, you won’t know you’ve been hurt, and that can cause you to bleed out before you realize you need help.”

Another glare from Miceral, and Farrell kept his head down the rest of the way. Wilhelm had set up the infirmary in a large hall near the throne room. Healers already worked on the steady stream of wounded men and women brought in from the fight.

Farrell spotted Master Heather speaking to another healer he did not recognize and wished he had the power to heal himself. When she saw him, she marched directly for him, a grim expression etched onto her features.

Without a word, she grabbed his wrists. Though less rattled than the others, she barely managed to stifle a look of shock as she examined his injuries.

“Child, what is wrong with you?” Her tone confirmed her anger. “Can’t you do anything without causing yourself major trauma? Why can’t you simply do what you’re supposed to do instead of always trying to find some new and different way to do things? This incessant need to do it your way is going to be the death of you. One day, you’re going to do something to yourself that I can’t fix. Then you’ll be sorry.”

“Excuse me.” Wilhelm held up a hand, drawing a scowl from Master Heather. “I presume you are Haven’s Chief Healer. I am Wilhelm, Prince of Belsport.”

Heather eyed Wilhelm before she bowed her head slightly. “My apologies, Prince Wilhelm. I didn’t realize you would personally escort my reckless sovereign to be treated.”

Farrell smirked, knowing Wilhelm wouldn’t get a more contrite apology from her.

“When one of my friends and allies risks his life for my people, I take a personal interest in their safety. You will not berate Prince Farrell in my house after he saved hundreds, if not thousands, of my people. These wounds were the result of his selfless actions to close the Door Meglar used to invade my realm. If you’re not able to be more civil, I’ll have Master Jelath treat him without you.”

“My thanks, Prince Wilhelm, but Master Heather has treated me for serious self-inflicted injuries in the past. We have an understanding. If I injure myself doing something stupid, I owe her the courtesy of listening to her chastise me for my foolishness.”

“No, my prince, he’s correct.” Heather stared hard at Wilhelm before bowing her head more deeply. “My sharp tongue gets the best of me at times, but I reserve that for those I care about. I ought to have asked the circumstances of your injury before I assumed you were being a silly child again.”

“How about everyone stops worrying about whose feelings were ruffled and someone help Farrell?” Miceral’s angry voice made Heather and Jelath turn slightly red.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, Prince Farrell,” Jelath said after examining his hands. “How did this happen?”

“I grabbed hold of the energy lines used to create a Door.” Farrell snuck a peek at Heather and watched as her eyes narrowed to thin slits. “The volatile energy ate through my shielding and did this before I could shut it down.”

He felt Jelath probe his wound with her mind. Shaking her head, she turned to Heather. “This injury escapes me. The damage to the flesh and muscle I can treat, but there is something that bars my abilities to reach the wounded areas.”

“Magically induced injuries can often interfere with our talents.” Heather took his right hand none too gently. She pointed to the straight line of the wound on his palm. “See how the energy clings to the damaged flesh?”

“So how do you treat it?” Jelath asked.

“Only a healer who has a wizard’s talent can effectively treat such a wound.” Heather led him to a table and patted the top. He quietly sat on the edge, waiting for her to treat him. “You know, you have to stop blocking the pain for us to work on you.”

Nodding, he dissolved the protective energy surrounding his hands. Bracing himself, he unblocked his pain receptors. He felt Miceral place a hand on his neck and tried to draw some comfort from it as the pain returned in excruciating waves. Even prepared for it, he couldn’t stifle a sob when the full effect hit him. Jelath and Heather worked quickly to wall off the pain, but they only numbed it. They couldn’t block it entirely.

“Prince Farrell?” Heather’s use of his title and her deferential tone caught him off guard.

“Yes?” His voice came out thin and halting as he tried to ignore the pain.

“You’re the only wizard healer who understands Door energy. I need you to dissolve the magic that holds back the healing process.”

Nodding, he stared at his mangled hands. “Where first?”

For the next hour, Heather pointed to a spot and helped him siphon off the energy, while Master Jelath worked to repair the damaged muscle, sinew, and flesh. Once they removed all the dark magic, Heather turned her attention to helping Jelath heal the physical wounds.

Miceral stayed with Farrell through the entire process. Several times, the healers touched nerves, sending waves of pain through the young wizard’s body. He managed not to scream but couldn’t hold back the tears. Miceral gently wiped his face, smiling despite the anguished look in his eyes.

When Jelath and Heather finished, they both looked exhausted but pleased.

“Young Prince, your hands will be as good as new if you rest for a day or so.” Heather gave him a small smile that turned into a smirk. “Perhaps you can get your unicorn friend to stab your hands for you like she did that shoulder.”

“Rest assured, Healer, I will use whatever gifts I have to ensure his full recovery.” It seemed to Farrell that everyone heard Nerti’s words. She walked over and touched Heather, then Jelath, with her horn. “I thank you both for all your efforts today.”

The two healers exchanged bewildered looks. “I no longer feel tired from my efforts. Truly, a unicorn is a blessing from the Holy Mother.” Jelath dropped to her knees before Nerti.

Horgon helped her to her feet. “Master Jelath, it is disrespectful to Lenore to worship Nerti like a goddess. We honor all unicorns and Lenore by caring for them and keeping them safe.”

Staring at his hands, Farrell kept flexing them to check for any lasting damage. When he felt Nerti’s presence close by, he turned to look into her green eyes.

“I am afraid, Wizard, I cannot help you right now. The healers have done their job expertly, but your body needs time to assimilate the work they did before I hasten your recovery. Too quickly, and the wounds will not heal properly.”

Farrell stood with Miceral’s help. “You’ve already done enough, Nerti. We each do according to our gifts. Helping those who helped me was gift enough.” He kissed her gently on the forehead.

The healers bowed, moving to help other patients, leaving Farrell leaning against Miceral. “Let’s go find out what happened after we left the Citadel.”

The pair made their way to where Horgon and Wilhelm spoke quietly with several military officers. When they saw Miceral and Farrell, they waved them over. Wilhelm excused himself, leaving Horgon to fill in the details.

Aside from the force that rescued them, a second group under Master Thomas assisted the counterattacks. Wesfazial aided them, working beside their Belsport counterparts to round up stragglers. A defiant group of wizards and Chamdon had made a stand at the site where the Door originated. Darius and Cylinda joined a contingent of wizard constables to defeat that group. After that, they encountered only intermittent episodes of fighting as the last of the invaders were hunted down and either killed or captured.

“We received a couple of accounts of the human soldiers taking women and young children hostage,” Wilhelm said as he rejoined them. “These soldiers appeared shocked when they arrived at the site of their Door and found it gone.”

Farrell nodded. “That would explain what Meglar was up to with this attack.”

“What does it mean to you?” Wilhelm asked

“I wondered what the point of this was, but it’s clear Meglar was collecting slaves for the breeding pits. The raid had two purposes, I believe. The first, carried out by the wizards and Chamdon, was to instill fear in your people. Meglar meant to sacrifice these troops to achieve that end. They were a diversion to keep your forces occupied while the real goal of the raid was carried out—slaves. The human soldiers must have been sent to abduct as many people as they could, especially young women and children.”

Wilhelm tilted his head. “Why young women and children?”

“Children who are turned into a Chamdon don’t burn out as quickly as adults. The young women were for breeding purposes. Our information is that Meglar has come up with a process to turn babies into full-grown Chamdon. Now he’s using young women to give birth, one after the next, until they can no longer bear a child and they’re turned into Chamdon themselves.”

Wilhelm’s jaw tightened, and his eyes seemed to focus on nothing. “Thank you for your help, Farrell, and for that information.”

Stifling a yawn, Farrell leaned back against Miceral. “Wilhelm, I believe everything is under control, so I’m going to take my leave from your fair city. The wizards will stay to assist Darius as needed, and if Meglar or another attacks, Haven stands ready to aid you. I’m sorry for the suffering my presence brought you and Belsport. But I hope we part friends.”

Wilhelm laughed. “You’re sorry? You? My dear boy, what in the sea could you be sorry for? Meglar is a disease on our world that cannot be appeased. I knew that the moment his agents arrived. Your offer of friendship and support made it possible for me to take action sooner than later.”

Wilhelm gripped both Farrell’s shoulders, giving him a warm smile. “When Meglar attacked, you owed us nothing, yet risked everything for my people with no thought of compensation. Our casualties are not greater because you were here to aid us. For that you have my thanks and my friendship.”

Farrell bowed to Wilhelm. “You’re welcome, friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling the effects of being healed and fear I may fall asleep as we speak.”

“Go.” Wilhelm returned the bow. “Stay well, Friend of Belsport.”

“Horgon is staying to command our forces,” Nerti told him. “And I’ve contacted Wesfazial to open a Door back to Haven. We three shall return, and you, Wizard, are going to rest.”

Chapter 29

FARRELL
WOKE to see Miceral sleeping in the chair next to the bed. Not a deep sleep, but more as though his partner had dozed off. When Farrell rolled onto his side, Miceral woke up.

“Hey, handsome.” Farrell flashed him a grin. “How long have I been asleep?”

“We left Belsport about four hours ago.” Miceral walked over to the bed. “How do you feel?”

He scooted over to make room for his partner. “Like I was dragged by a horse over the Plains of Gharaha.”

Miceral reached over and stroked Farrell’s hair. “In truth, that might have been kinder than what you went through.”

He lay quietly, enjoying the feeling Miceral’s hands sent through his body. “I’m sorry I caused you such stress. I don’t mean to get hurt, but sometimes I act without worrying about the consequences. If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t much fun for me either.”

Miceral laughed. “I imagine not, but can you try to be more careful? I would prefer to carry you to bed for things other than healing sleep.”

“Yes, I’ll try.” Farrell yawned again. “Come to bed? It’s late, and I’ll sleep better if you’re next to me.”

Trying to fight the need to sleep so he could watch Miceral get undressed proved impossible. He woke briefly when his partner climbed into their bed, but quickly fell fast asleep, content to feel Miceral’s strong arms around him.

For the better part of the next two days, Farrell slept. The only memory he had of that time was when Lisle tried to enter the bedroom the morning they returned. Even that wasn’t a very clear memory, but he remembered hearing “stubborn woman,” “dense as the iron you wear,” “let him sleep,” and “take your hands off me.”

From how much better he felt and the dreamlike images he remembered, he knew Miceral had brought him food and drink several times a day. How little he remembered concerned him until he scanned his body and found traces of a sleeping draft. He should have known Master Heather would enlist Miceral to put something in his drink.

Mildly irritated, he let it go when he remembered how concerned Miceral had been. A couple of days’ sleep not only let his hands heal, it left him feeling stronger than he’d felt in a long time.

Leaving the bedroom, he remembered Miceral had mentioned going to meet his father. Given the amount of drugs in his system, he wondered why Miceral had thought it necessary to say anything. He found a tray of food and almost poured himself a drink before he scanned the pitcher.

Putting the pitcher back, he decided to call down to the kitchen for food that did not have a sleep-inducing agent as an ingredient. The page shifted his weight from foot to foot as Farrell told him to explain to the cooks the consequences if he found any trace of the drugs in his food ever again.

Farrell directed the second page to follow him into his study and dashed off a terse, almost threatening, note to Master Heather. Telling him what he had to do qualified as part of her job. Sneaking drugs into his food did not.

He handed the note to the teen and let him out. Flexing his fingers, he moved to the music room to test his hands. The window at the far end provided little light, given its western exposure, and he quickly felt the tug on his energy from the room’s lights.

Despite its infrequent use, Lisle kept the room spotless. Farrell stretched his fingers and sat on the piano bench. Everything felt right, but he’d know for sure in a moment. Fingers flying across the keys, he missed more than a few notes, but he still smiled broadly. Masters Heather and Jelath had done a superb job.

Pleased with his hands but not his playing, he stopped once he determined he had suffered no permanent damage. He knew work had built up during his absence, but he sat by the window when he saw a shape fly by. Peering out, he watched transfixed as several young peregrines chased each other around. He could see his brothers doing this as youngsters.

No. He smiled to himself. They probably do it even as adults.

“He should be told.” Horgon’s voice caused him to turn from the window and head for the sitting room.

“I agree, but it can wait until he’s better.” Miceral’s tone told him they withheld bad news.

“Tell me what?” The two snapped their heads in his direction. He spotted the untouched tray of food and drink. “Oh. Don’t let Master Heather give you any more sleeping potions for my food.”

Miceral blushed slightly. “They were for your own good.”

“I’m not complaining, though it upset me when I figured it out.” He nearly frowned at the memory. “What’s done is done, and I’m feeling better, so it worked.”

“That’s good news.” Horgon moved closer to clasp Farrell’s shoulder. “You had us worried for a stretch there.”

“Sorry for that.” Not letting them distract him, he said, “What is it you think you shouldn’t tell me until later?”

Father and son exchanged a look before Miceral nodded. “We went over the casualty list from the fight at Belsport this morning. The troop commanders all returned, and we were able to get an accurate count.”

Dead soldiers always bothered him. As leader, his orders sent them into the fight. “How bad?”

“Relatively light.” Horgon almost sounded upbeat. “The healers did an amazing job. We lost twelve soldiers in total.”

He felt his face tingle, forcing him to breathe deeply to avoid tearing up. “Will you provide me a list so I can speak to the families personally?”

“Of course.” Horgon’s gaze darted toward Miceral, who shook his head. “I’ll go get it now.”

Swallowing loudly, Farrell lifted the pitcher, only to set it down when he remembered the drugs. Ignoring the look he got from Miceral, he flicked his wrist, eliminating the sleep draft. He filled a cup and downed it, then filled it again.

“Farrell.” Miceral put his arms around his waist.

“Don’t lecture me about using magic,” Farrell snapped. “I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t going to do that.” He gently kissed the top of Farrell’s head. “It’s about the list.”

Cup to his lips, Farrell set it down and stared into the water. “Whose name is on it?”

The silence lingered long enough that Farrell almost asked again.

“Ostert.”

Barely a whisper, the name struck Farrell like the flat of a sword across the chest, leaving him unable to breathe. After the initial sting, he wiped his eyes and twisted around. “I’m sorry, Miceral. You knew him his whole life.”

“I’ve had time to make peace.” Miceral blinked, sniffing softly. “Lenore will welcome him with all honors.”

“Of course She will.” He buried his face against Miceral’s chest, feeling the hoped-for embrace he needed.

STANDING
IN front of the door, he paused. Should he be here unannounced? Maybe, but if he didn’t do it now, he might not get to it for a while. Knocking, he then stepped back.

Lillian, her eyes red and puffy, opened the door. “Prince Farrell?”

Noting her surprise, he smiled as best he could. “Hello, Lillian. I hope it’s okay that I came by without warning you.”

She pulled the door wider, motioning for him to come in. “You’ve always been welcome in our home.”

She nearly choked off the last two words. He let her rush past, giving her the time to compose herself. “Have a seat while I get you something to drink.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can’t stay long.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he squeezed his eyes tight. When he opened them, he found her staring at him. The grief he saw nearly broke his resolve, but he’d been through enough sorrow that he clamped down and kept it together. “How’s the baby doing?”

Lillian rubbed her round stomach, almost smiling. “He’s doing well. The healers are checking on me daily to be sure I don’t go into labor prematurely.”

Nodding, he tried to smile, but he knew it looked forced. “I… I… came to tell you how sorry I am. It doesn’t mean or change anything, I know, but I wanted to tell you personally how much your husband’s friendship meant to me.”

Did that sound phony? They’d known each other less than a year. Why would she believe him?

“Ostert always smiled when he spoke of you and Miceral. His ‘two friends,’ he’d tell people.” She finally smiled for real. “That you never forgot him or us was a source of joy and pride.”

“I never forget my friends.” He sniffed, wiping his nose. “He taught me the value of living now….”

Finishing the sentence proved impossible. Insensitive too. Or at least, so he thought.

Laughing, Lillian stepped closer. “Did you know he took credit for you and Miceral getting joined?”

The laughter turned into a sob, and Farrell reached for her. “As well he should.”

Standing still, he let her cry until she just held him. Nothing he said would change things or ease her grief. Lifting his hand, he summoned a square of white silk and handed it to her. Silently, she accepted the offered cloth and wiped her face.

“Thank you.” She tried to give it back, but Farrell waved her off.

“Keep it.” Taking her by the arm, he led her to a chair. “I’ll… Miceral and I… if you or your son ever need anything, please come to us.”

“Miceral said the same.” She stared at a spot on the floor. “You two have done enough already. With the gold you gave us, my son will never want for anything.”

Except a father. The same thought might have crossed Lillian’s mind when Farrell didn’t speak right away. He wanted to say so much but decided to wait. Her grief was too new, raw.

“I’ll see that he didn’t die in vain,” Farrell whispered, not planning to give voice to the thought. “I swear it.”

“Ostert died fighting to make the world a safer place for me and our son.” She sat a bit straighter, a look of pride on her face. “He wanted our son to live in a world free of Meglar and his evil.”

He smiled briefly, seeing Ostert in his mind saying those words. “Your husband saw the world so differently from me. He kept everything simple. ‘Do what you know is right and ignore the rest as worthless noise.’”

Lillian looked up at him, smiling happily. “I see you knew the real Ostert. He was a good man.”

“He was.” He knelt, looking Lillian in the eye. “Everything is simple. Meglar must be defeated so your son can grow up without knowing such evil. I’ll see that he can.”

He kissed her hand and let himself out. Pulling the door shut, he closed his eyes and saw Ostert smiling at him outside Northhelm.

“Even if I have to die to make it happen.”

Coming Soon from DSP Publications

The Eye and the Arm

Champion of the Gods:
Book Two

By Andrew Q. Gordon

After defeating Meglar at Belsport, Farrell returns to Haven to recover from his injuries, but Khron, the god of war, has other ideas. He gives Farrell a new mission: free the survivors of the ancient dwarf realm of Trellham from their three-thousand-year banishment. To fulfill Khron's near impossible task, Farrell will need the help of his distance ancestor, the legendary wizard Kel. But Kel has been dead for a thousand years.

Farrell finds information hinting that Kel is alive, so he moves his search to Dumbarten, Kel's birthplace. To reach Dumbarten unannounced, Farrell and Miceral disguise themselves as mercenaries on board a merchant vessel. Their journey is disrupted when pirates attack their ship. While attempting to subdue the attack, Farrell is struck down by one of Meglar’s minions.

Unconscious and trapped in his own mind, Farrell's only chance for survival rests with Miceral and the peregrine king Rothdin entering his thoughts and helping him sort fact from illusion. To reach Farrell, they will need to rely on an untested spell from one of Kel's spellbooks. If they succeed, Miceral can guide Farrell home safely. If not, Farrell will destroy not only himself, but Miceral, Rothdin, and everyone around him.

“WHY
DON’T you go find Kerstand and go for a ride?” Miceral pulled a dark blue tunic over his head.

Farrell liked the color, but the shirt prevented him from watching the muscles on Miceral’s torso ripple as he moved. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, I’m trying to help you find your way back to your old self.” Moving closer, he massaged the top of Farrell’s shoulders. “Ever since we returned from Belsport, you’ve been sullen and you keep to our apartment. Three weeks is long enough.”

“I’m not sullen.” He needed time to go over all the decisions that had led up to his failure. Meglar shouldn’t have been allowed to get inside Belsport, and Farrell should have stopped him.

“You don’t get to decide that.” Miceral scooped him off the end of the bed. “I’m the only objective party here, and I say it’s time to break out of your funk.”

Farrell’s bare feet touched the cool stone. “How can I take Kerstand riding with me? His horse can’t keep up with Nerti.”

“Nordric has agreed to bear the Prince of Honal,” Nerti said.

His eyes narrowed as he realized what happened. “You enlisted Nerti in your scheme?”

Miceral’s face lost its playful twinkle. “I’m worried. You took Ostert’s death very hard. We all mourn his loss, but it’s an unavoidable aspect of war.”

“I know what happens in war.” Hearing the unwanted snarl in his voice, he let out a loud breath. “Ral, I’m sorry. Each time I lose someone close, it reinforces the magnitude of my failure to kill Meglar.”

Miceral laid a hand on Farrell’s cheek, rubbing gently with his callused thumb. “We’ve talked about this before—you’re not to blame.”

“No and yes.” Placing his hand over his partner’s, Farrell closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The hint of chamomile soap mixed with Miceral’s scent always calmed him. “I understand I wasn’t ready, but it will always haunt me. Every death, especially someone I’m close to, makes me wonder if I could’ve done something more.”

“Even if you could, it wouldn’t have changed anything.” Miceral pulled them closer together and kissed Farrell softly. “Learn from the past, but don’t dwell on it.”

Farrell leaned in for another kiss. When he pulled back, Miceral spun him around and swatted him on the butt. “Now go collect Kerstand and go for a run.”

“Yes, m’lord.” He did his best to give a foppish bow. “Anything to please the royal concubine.”

Miceral raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Anything?”

“Um….” His heart rate jumped as he stopped midturn. “Don’t you have to meet Horgon for the morning ‘complaint’ session?”

“Well….” Miceral glanced at the clock and then smirked. “Father can wait a bit. I don’t want to be accused of failing in my duties as husband to the prince.”

“THAT
WAS the most amazing thing!” Prince Kerstand of Honal’s windblown hair and red face did nothing to diminish his enthusiasm. “I felt more secure than if I had been in my saddle on an easy ride.”

“It’s a feeling I never tire of, no matter how often I ride with Nerti.” They’d stopped at the foothills of the mountains that formed the southern boundary of the Plains of Gharaha. Scanning the area, Farrell felt a bit of his improved mood evaporate under the press of responsibility. “You three may keep running if you like. I need to check on something here.”

Kerstand turned his gaze north and toward the vast expanse of open ground. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be much of a companion if I leave you alone.”

“Prince of Honal.” Nerti’s testy voice made Farrell swallow a laugh. “Do you not see me here?”

“Um… well, yes, but….” The younger prince shot Farrell a pleading glance.

“Since you see me, you must be implying I do not count or else you would not have suggested that without your presence, Prince Farrell would be alone.” The unicorn queen inched forward, her horn aimed at Kerstand’s groin.

“No!” Kerstand’s hands searched Nordric’s neck. He looked down, then back at Nerti, before trying to move the stationary unicorn beneath him. “Your Majesty, I would never…. I mean, I never meant to suggest you were nobody. Never. What I meant to imply was Farrell….”

Laughing now, Farrell gently rubbed Nerti’s neck, keeping his eyes on his friend. “Do you really want to debate this, or do you want to ask Nordric to start running? He can’t outrun Nerti, but I’ll do my best to keep her with me if you go now.”

“Run off,” Farrell told Nordric, hoping to spare his friend more discomfort. As the pair raced away, he chuckled again. “Do you realize how intimidating you are when you’re displeased?”

“Of course, child.” He heard the hint of laughter in her tone. “Nordric has already explained to him I am not really upset. He has taken far too much pleasure in teasing you when Miceral is around. Now he knows you are never alone, even when I’m not physically there.”

She did that for him? Not that he needed help, but she’d certainly put Kers back on his heels.

“Did I do something to upset you?” Nerti’s question broke his introspection.

“Upset me? Why would you ask that?”

“You never responded after you learned what I did.”

Farrell leaned forward to hug her neck. “No, my queen, I’m not upset, just surprised. You are usually so serious with others. Who knew you had such a playful side?”

“There are many things about me you do not know.”

“No truer words have I heard than those.” She couldn’t see the playful grin on his face. “But I’m happy for the company.”

Farrell turned his focus to the spells he and others had laid onto Gharaha. Here at the edges, farthest from the Sources, the spells would degrade first. He dismounted and placed his left hand on the ground. Power tickled his palm as he touched the different magics that protected Haven.

Nowhere in Heminaltose’s vast library had he found any evidence of this much high magic in one place. The concealment spells gave him the most concern. He pushed past it to check the integrity of the other spells vital to Haven’s survival. Covering one spell with another frequently caused interference to such a degree that the underlying magic failed entirely. If that happened, he’d need to find a solution—fast.

He poked and prodded his work, looking for any sign of deterioration, any hint of discord among the various magics just below the surface. Finally he stood up.

“I told them it would work.”

“Do you address me?” Nerti’s voice reminded him he was not alone. “If so, I do not understand the context of your statement.”

“My apologies, Nerti. I’ve developed the bad habit of talking to myself while I’ve been out here working. Erstad and Wesfazial argued that a cloaking spell of this magnitude would degrade the spells it was meant to conceal. I tried to tell them I’d figured out a way, but they didn’t believe me. Now I can show them that I was right.”

“Perhaps if you showed a bit more humility when you are right, they might accept it better.”

Farrell laughed as he mounted. “I’ll try, but I fear I have been in your presence too long, my queen.”

“If that were true, you would be far more modest than you are today.”

Nerti’s playful banter and the condition of the spells left him buoyant on the brisk midwinter day. Feeling more like himself, he knew he needed to make things up to Miceral. Looking for Kerstand, he spotted Nordric at the far end of the plains, running as if he sought to outpace the cold wind whipping around the valley. Hopefully his friend wouldn’t mind going back.

“No matter how long you allow him to ride, it won’t be enough.” Nerti started to walk slowly toward the still-open Door.

Remembering the times he’d ridden Nerti when they ran for the sake of running, Farrell smiled as he watched Kerstand. “I understand the feeling.”

“I shall tell Nordric to meet us by the Door.”

A few moments later, Nordric executed a gradual looping turn to reverse direction and raced toward his mother. Despite how fast Nordric ran, Nerti would still be there first.

Farrell used the ride back to continue his examination of Haven’s defenses. He started to follow a line of energy back to the Source when his mind brushed against something that felt… it felt wrong. An instant later it disappeared. After several attempts turned up nothing, he let it go.

“Is something wrong?”

Nerti’s question forced him to put what he felt into words. “I don’t really know. For an instant I thought I felt something wrong, but it vanished before I could isolate it. Perhaps I just imagined it.”

Nerti stopped walking but didn’t answer. Farrell used the silence to try again, with no better success.

“I sense nothing.” She started to run again. “But as you said, it vanished when you searched closer. Keep alert should you feel it again.”

Had he imagined it? Possibly, but it felt real enough. Then again, if Nerti didn’t sense anything, it might have been just an echo of something from somewhere else. He let it go when he saw Nordric running hard for them.

“Gods of Nendor, that is amazing.” Kerstand’s smile proved infectious. “Riding that fast and without a saddle.”

“Sorry it wasn’t a good outing, I’ll try to do better next time.”

Kerstand shook his head. “We all had such hopes that spending time with Miceral would improve your sense of humor.”

Nerti snorted, draining the smirk from Kerstand’s face. Despite his best effort, Farrell couldn’t stifle a laugh.

“It appears not everyone shares your opinion that you possess the superior wit.” When his friend sputtered for a response, Farrell reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I value our friendship, even if you don’t laugh at my jokes.”

STEPPING
THROUGH the Door into his bedroom, Farrell scanned the suite to be certain Lisle had finished and left.

“Hey, Ral. If you’re not doing anything too pressing, can you break away for the rest of the day and meet me at our rooms?”

“Is anything wrong?” The concern in Miceral’s voice made Farrell feel guilty. His sullen mood had Miceral on edge.

“No, just feeling a bit needy today. Something time with my favorite person will easily fix.”

Farrell felt Miceral’s mental laugh. “The calendar is light. I’ll tell Father I’m spending the day with you and be home soon.”

About the Author

ANDREW
Q. GORDON wrote his first story back when yellow legal pads and ballpoint pens were common and a Smith Corona correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting with technology, he now takes his MacBook somewhere quiet when he wants to write.

He currently lives in the Washington, DC area with his partner of nineteen years, their young daughter, and dog. In addition to dodging some very self-important DC “insiders,” Andrew uses his commute to catch up on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy, baseball, and trying to keep his daughter from growing up too fast.

Follow Andrew:

On his website: www.andrewqgordon.com

On Facebook: www.facebook.com/andrewqugordon

On Twitter: @andrewqgordon

Or just e-mail him: andrewqgordon@gmail.com

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Table of Contents

Title page

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Coming Soon from DSP Publications

About the Author

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