The Eye and the Arm Page 4

“Like Father Aswick said, it’s about power.” Farrell glanced over at their host. When the dwarf nodded, he continued. “It took all Seven, acting in unison, to create the world. Assuming the Six could defeat Neldin in a meaningful way—”

  “Meaningful way?” Miceral cut in. “What does that mean?”

  “It is unclear if a god can die.” Farrell looked to the high priest for confirmation.

  “What Farrell says is correct. Nothing in our teachings suggests the Six could slay Neldin. But it wouldn’t matter. Whether They killed Neldin, or merely defeated Him in such a way that He could not interfere again, the effort would destroy the world. Without Neldin, the Six would not be able to create a new world to replace the one they destroyed.”

  “So they suffer each other’s existence to preserve the world each side wants to control?” Miceral voiced what Farrell initially felt.

  “Not quite.” Farrell checked with the priest for permission to continue. When Aswick nodded, he chose his words carefully. “Basically, Neldin doesn’t want to destroy the world because He wants to rule it and can’t create a new world alone. The Six don’t want everyone to die, so They labor within the fragile peace they’ve reached with Their brother. Even if They could create a new world—and to be honest, I’ve not seen any proof They can’t with just the six of them—They wouldn’t because the cost would be so high.”

  “Well said.” Aswick stared into his cup. “Khron’s mistake threatened not just Trellham, but all the world. If He couldn’t rule Nendor in His Brother’s place, Neldin sought to turn the world into an extension of Neblor.

  “To deal with Neldin’s threat, the Six sent out a call to arms. Warriors and wizards from all nations were told to gather at the closest temple. The Six met Neldin’s threat with armies of their own.

  “The battle lasted for days. Every time Trellham seemed safe, more of Neldin’s demons appeared. After several long days of fighting, Falcron gave voice to the words His siblings refused to speak. Since Khron had broken the prohibition by taking something from Neldin, ending the fight required Khron give back something of equal value.”

  “Something of equal value?” Miceral asked. “You mean like Khron’s temple?”

  “No, that would be too easy.” Aswick shook his head slowly. “It wasn’t the destruction of His temple that gave Neldin power to act; it was the death of His followers. Khron needed to sacrifice those who worshipped Him.”

  Farrell’s stomach twisted, forcing him to swallow loudly. “I can’t believe the Six would willingly sacrifice innocent people—sorry, innocent dwarves.”

  “Your words echo Khron’s protest. But he understood that his actions had killed many of Neldin’s followers, who, in Neldin’s eyes, were equally innocent.”

  “Innocent?” Farrell spat out the word. “Demanding Seritia’s high priestess swear fealty to Neldin, razing Her temple when the priestess refused, launching a civil war? How are these the actions of innocent followers?”

  “You think like one devoted to his god.” Aswick’s smile lasted only a moment. “To Neldin, His priests did as He told them. We judge their actions to be wrong, but in His eyes, they were right. They did as their god commanded.”

  Farrell wanted to argue with Aswick’s reasoning but decided to keep silent. Logical or not, the events they discussed occurred more than three millennia ago.

  The elderly dwarf leaned back in his chair, looking as if telling the tale took all his energy. “While the fighting continued, the Six sought a way to close Neldin’s entry to the world. None wanted to kill more of Trellham’s dwarves, but for a time it seemed their only option. More than just Trellham was at stake if Neldin won.

  “Finally Seritia offered a possible solution. What if the people were simply gone? That should be enough to end the crisis.”

  Unable to restrain himself any longer, Farrell shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. “No, sending Khron’s followers to another place wouldn’t have closed the Eight Gates of Neblor. That couldn’t have been the solution.”

  This time Aswick’s smile remained. “Good. You understand the dilemma the Six faced. You are correct. Moving dwarves to the opposite side of the planet would not solve the problem Khron’s involvement had created. His followers needed to leave Nendor.”

  Farrell cocked his head to the right and repeated the last two words, “Leave Nendor?”

  “Yes, leave Nendor. Seritia suggested opening a Door to nowhere. Anyone who entered the void would be dead—at least, until they were allowed to exit again.”

  “Stop.” Miceral put his drink down with a clank. “How can you open a Door to nowhere? That makes no sense.”

  “Actually”—Farrell stood up and began to pace—“it makes total sense, except it’s a suicide trip. There’s no way to locate anyone who entered a Door into the void. They’d be lost forever.”

  Aswick refilled his mug. “Correct again, young wizard. Except it was not a death sentence. The Six agreed this was the only choice left to Them. They assembled the remaining wizards to see if any could create what Seritia envisioned. Many tried, but none succeeded.”

  Resting his hands on the back of his chair, Farrell held up a finger. “Why not? Opening a Door to nowhere is simple—just imagine an empty place in the void and extend your will. How could that be beyond the skills of every grand master wizard there?”

  “It was not the opening of the Door that proved beyond their talents. It was what Seritia wanted them to do once the Door was open.”

  Farrell locked gazes with the high priest but didn’t speak. Running through the facts he’d been given, he grappled with what the goddess had meant to achieve. Closing his eyes, he tried to recreate the scene and the spell. After walking himself through opening a portal into the void, he snapped his eyes open.

  “She created a home for them in the void.” The idea was crazy, preposterous, impossible—but if successful, totally brilliant.

  “You mean everyone has been standing inside… wherever they are for three thousand years?” Miceral’s voice woke Farrell from his thoughts. Aswick still stared at him and raised an eyebrow.

  “Time has no meaning inside the void.” Farrell shrugged and smiled at his partner. “Or, at least, so the theory goes. To my knowledge, no one who tried to test that theory has survived to validate the belief.”

  “Khron told the dwarves who entered that they would feel as if a mere moment had passed when they were freed,” Aswick said. “Once all the ‘best’ wizards of the age had tried and failed, a young wizard from among Honorus’s followers stepped forward. Though newly raised to master status, his talent spoke of greater things to come. With the eyes of what must have felt like the entire world on him, the young wizard slowly wove the complex spell Seritia had taught him. When he finished, the Six smiled. He had succeeded.”

  “Did history record the name of this young wizard?” Farrell knew the answer but wanted Aswick to confirm his belief.

  “You know who it was. It was your distant ancestor, Kel.”

  Farrell’s chest muscles seized. How could the priest know that? “What makes you think I’m related to Kel?”

  A deep rumble of laughter rang out. “Only one of the House of Kel could have found this place. And Khron would only give the task to Kel’s heir.”

  Farrell stared at their host. Did Aswick know about his relationship to Meglar? And if not, how would that affect things? For a moment he thought he saw movement behind the priest. Shifting his focus, he saw a nine-foot statue of Khron. Whatever Aswick might think, he would do what Khron instructed, even if it meant helping Meglar’s son.

  Turning back, he nodded. “I am that.”

  “Indeed you are.” Aswick drained the rest of his ale and walked the mug to the sideboard. “After Kel completed the spell, Trellham’s survivors walked through. When the last one disappeared into the void, the gates of Neblor slammed shut. Without reinforcements, Neldin’s army fell, ending the war. Honorus instructed Kel to seal the city t
o all but his heir, ensuring Trellham remained undisturbed all these centuries.”

  “I have a question,” Miceral said. “If all of Trellham went into the void, how is it you survived?”

  Aswick chuckled, stroking his long gray beard. “I did not. All of Trellham left the city that day. After the armies left and the city was sealed, Khron selected a young dwarf priest from the other dwarf realms to serve as high priest against the day His people returned. I am the seventeenth priest to hold this position.

  “There is a permanent Door between this temple and the ones in Fracturn and Colograd. We are permitted to visit—it keeps us sane—but we must sleep here every night. I am thankful Khron has allowed me to live long enough to see my brethren freed.”

  Farrell barely heard the exchange between the two. How could he be expected to do the impossible? The spell Kel used, he understood, even if he didn’t know exactly how to do it. But finding the survivors? He realized the room had gone quiet and raised his eyes from the cold stone floor. “Locating your dwarves in the void is like trying to find a specific drop of water in the ocean. Unless you can give me some guidance, I have no idea how to free them.”

  To his surprise, Aswick seemed impassive. “I expected as much, but I fear I cannot help. I do, however, have something to give you that may be of use.” He moved to a small cabinet next to the sideboard and opened the dark mahogany door. Pressing his signet ring against the back wall opened a small, hidden stone door. The dwarf reached in and withdrew a deep blue velvet-wrapped item. “Twenty-five centuries ago, Kel created this vault. Until today it has never been opened. I do not know the contents of this, though it feels like a book. On the day Kel appeared, he gave over this item and instructed my predecessor to give this to his heir when you finally arrived.”

  He stared at the cloth for a moment, then extended his arms toward Farrell.

  Gingerly, Farrell accepted the gift. The book, for that was what it was, left him in awe. This came from Kel. The Kel. The greatest wizard of his age–or any age. When he looked up from the book, he found Aswick’s eyes trained on him. The priest nodded once.

  “I hope, descendant of Kel, that contained within that ancient tome you will find what you seek.”

  Chapter 4

  THE DOOR blinked shut, leaving Farrell and Miceral standing in front of their bed. Farrell stared at the ancient book.

  Miceral snaked his hands around Farrell’s waist from behind, gently pulling them together. “I’m told it helps to open a book and turn the pages.”

  “By the Six, I learn new things every day.” He thought about pulling away but decided to enjoy how he felt in Miceral’s arms. “Actually, I’m trying to decide if I should speak to Erstad and Wesfazial first. They might have some advice on how to proceed.”

  “That sounds like a good idea, but I’d suggest asking Nerti, Klissmor, and Rothdin to the meeting.” Miceral kissed the back of Farrell’s neck and let go. “They’re all older than Trellham and might know things no one else would.”

  Separated from his partner, Farrell already missed the contact. “Good idea. We should probably invite your father too. He is first minister, after all.”

  “Agreed. Are you planning to convene a full meeting of all the senior advisors?”

  Having everyone together usually proved tedious. Then again, explaining it twice didn’t make sense. And a full meeting only meant adding Cylinda and Glendora. “Probably smart to invite them all. Can you send down for food? I’ll set up the sitting room to accommodate everyone.”

  Still holding the book, he entered the sitting room. For most of his life, the allure of returning home to Yar-del captured his imagination. Every time he’d visited, he hoped to one day live with his mother and claim his birthright. That dream died when Meglar killed his mother and Heminaltose on the walls of Yar-del.

  The chair he moved slammed into the wall, rousing him from his somber musings. He’d grown up at Haven, and Heminaltose had been his family. The bond that connected his heart to Yar-del had been his mother. Her death severed that link, turning Yar-del into nothing more than a location on a map.

  Yet, in the blink of an eye, Kel rekindled his yearning to return home. Across the centuries, his ancestor reached out and reminded him what it meant to be part of the royal house of Yar-del.

  Satisfied with the room, he walked toward his bedroom.

  “Nerti?”

  “Did you enjoy your afternoon?”

  “I did until Khron interrupted our lunch to anoint me His Chosen and task me with freeing the dwarves of Trellham.” He caught the hint of anger in his mental voice and took a deep breath.

  “I can tell you are not pleased with your new title. I assume you voiced your displeasure to Khron.”

  “I did. Khron told me if I beat Him in a fight, I didn’t have to be His Chosen.” He snorted at the absurdity of his tale. “I nearly won, but Honorus tripped me just as I was going for the winning strike.”

  Her mental laugh improved his dour mood. Did her emotions bleed through their link? Before he could ask, she spoke. “I’m certain Master Baylec will be pleased to hear how much you’ve progressed.”

  “Indeed.” Smiling, he almost forgot why he’d contacted her. “Khron also gave me a book written by Kel to help me with the task. I want to talk to the senior wizards to see if they have any ideas that will help. Miceral suggested I invite you, Klissmor, and Rothdin to join us.”

  “Miceral is a wise Muchari. Your adoptive father, Klissmor, and I might not have the answers you need, but we fought during the war, so our knowledge may prove helpful.”

  He stopped walking. How had he not realized they’d been there? “I’ll…. We’ll…. I mean, let’s meet in an hour. I’ll contact Roth… Father and let him know what we’re doing.”

  “Don’t be so flustered, little one.” This time her chuckle felt like a mother instructing her child. “Sometimes even the wisest can miss the obvious.”

  She left his mind, leaving him shaking his head and smiling.

  “Why the smile?”

  He looked up and saw Miceral standing in the doorway to his closet. “Nerti admonished me like a child.”

  Miceral laid a new tunic and pants on the bed. “What did you do this time?”

  He waved his hand near his face. “Nothing like that. I somehow never made the connection that she, Klissmor, and Rothdin fought at Trellham. Had I thought about it, I probably would have figured it out, but it just never crossed my mind before she said something.”

  “Hmmm.”

  He looked at Miceral, who shrugged. “What?”

  “I think I need to speak to Glendora about an annulment of our union. You’re clearly not as bright as you led me to believe.”

  Sneering, he gave Miceral a fake laugh. “Keep it up and you might find out I’m not as sweet and innocent as you thought either.”

  “I’ll give you sweet, but who said you were innocent?” Peeling the tunic over his head, Miceral gave him a suggestive look.

  Staring at the naked torso, Farrell put the velvet-wrapped book on the table and took off his shirt. “No one I know.”

  FARRELL CLOSED the Door after his adoptive father crossed the threshold. Even with all the empty space he cleared, the peregrine’s presence made the room feel small. Rothdin settled onto the bedding Farrell set out.

  “Thank you for remembering. Cold stone floors are not the most comfortable to sit on for long periods of time.”

  “Um….” He looked at Nerti, who appeared to roll her eyes. He didn’t know a unicorn could do that. “I didn’t, Father. Nerti reminded me of my poor manners when she arrived.”

  “I merely pointed out that if he was going to be the adopted son of a peregrine, he needed to learn your ways or risk insulting you.”

  Rothdin clicked his beak in amusement. “Nerti, you know we make allowances for the young, but you are right. He may need to spend time with his brothers to better learn our ways.”

  Lifting Kel’s book from
the chair, Farrell sat on the newly vacated cushion. “Perhaps we can discuss why I invited everyone to my home?”

  Rothdin stretched his wing, swatting Farrell gently on the head. “Be polite, child. When you invite others to your aerie, you must accept they will tease you if you forget something.”

  Laughter filled the room and when it stopped, everyone fell silent as all eyes turned to Farrell.

  “It’s just a book. Its pages don’t hold the answer to our Meglar problem.”

  “It may or it may not.” Erstad’s voice held a hint of glee. “But either way it’s exciting to find a lost book written by Grand Master Kel.”

  “I might be more exuberant if the book didn’t come to me as part of my new task.” Unwrapping the velvet cover, he turned to Rothdin and Nerti. “Do either of you know anything about this book?”

  “We do.” Rothdin’s mental voice held a hint of annoyance. “Honorus sent Nerti and me as messengers to Kel to instruct him to write a book about his efforts during the war and to give it to Khron’s priest.”

  Before Farrell could ask for more details, his adoptive father continued.

  “Some years after the great war ended, Honorus and Lenore sent a group of peregrines, unicorns, and Muchari to Ardus. We settled in the vast undisturbed lands east of where Kel founded Yar-del. Before the wizard Beatrice and her cohorts finished carving Northhelm from the bowels of the mountain, Honorus sent us east to speak to Kel.

  “Kel was told to write down what he had done at Trellham to aid his descendant when it came time to undo his spell. At the time, he confessed that he did not know how to free the dwarves of Trellham.”

  “That doesn’t sound like it will be very helpful to Farrell,” Miceral said.

  Farrell shook his head and noticed the other wizards doing the same. “Actually, it should be very helpful. If I know what he did and how he did it, it should make my job that much easier.”

  “A word of caution, if I may.” Rothdin paused until Farrell faced him. “Kel’s book may well contain information of great value, but do not look to it as if it were written by Honorus.”