When Heroes Fall Read online

  That path, however, would add months to the final conquest of Ardus. If Meglar felt Dumbarten was gearing up to invade Zargon, he’d launch an attack on all three areas at once.

  “How far along are Christian and Sanduval with the evacuation of Honal?” Farrell asked his mother.

  Zenora frowned and shook her head. “Not far enough. I doubt they’ll reach more than two-thirds of the villages and towns. And less than half of those reached will heed the warning.”

  Horgon raised his eyebrows. “That’s not many. Surely they realize Respital’s failure to warn most of its people contributed heavily to Meglar’s numbers.”

  Farrell seethed at the memory of Corvis scoffing at Clement as he tried to warn that worthless pile of horse manure. Despite ample notice, Corvis had done next to nothing to organize his people. What few he managed to save came mostly from the area around the capital.

  “This isn’t as simple as you make it sound.” Zenora ran her fingernail along a groove in the stone table and shook her head. “Most of the people are farmers or craftsmen. They won’t easily leave their homes and livelihood behind. No matter how false the hope is, they’ll expect their kings to protect them. And if they are forced to flee, they assume they’ll have more than enough time to escape.”

  “They would be wrong,” Kel said.

  Zenora snorted. “Of course, but you didn’t try to convince people of the danger. I did.”

  “True, but your people hadn’t seen four other kingdoms fall,” Horgon said. “That ought to make it easier for Christian and Heldin.”

  “It won’t,” Zenora said. “The villagers, even if they heard the news, regard it as hardly more than a rumor. Clement knew firsthand what was coming and he struggled to get his people to listen. He even used displaced Yar-del villagers to talk to his reluctant people. That barely helped. Only by recreating the system of self-activating Doors we used in Yar-del did he get most of his people away. And the majority left only when Meglar’s army was visible.”

  “I remember too well the panicked flight of Endor’s people. Can’t we…?” Farrell drummed his finger on the placemat. The others at the table looked at him, and he wished he hadn’t started to voice that thought. “Can’t we strike his forces before they launch? That would give us more time to convince people to leave.”

  Farrell waited for the expected rejection. No one ever thought taking the fight to Meglar was a good idea.

  “We could, but Meglar would likely move up his invasion plans before we’re ready,” Kel said. “You and I still need to finish your training and you need to recover the last Gift. Provoking Meglar to act sooner would run counter to both those requirements.”

  “So we sacrifice Honal?” Miceral asked. “And Pelipan?”

  Farrell held back the tiny smile that tried to quirk his lips. No one truly cared about Pelipan. When he thought it through, he realized how unfair it was to the people of Pelipan. They’d done nothing to earn the indifference their monarch created. But if Meglar targeted just Pelipan next, Farrell wouldn’t have suggested a preemptive attack.

  “Would you rather we sacrifice Farrell?” Kel raised an eyebrow. “It is unfortunate we are not ready yet, but the fault is mostly their own.”

  “The comparison isn’t fair,” Farrell said. “You speak of it as if it’s an either/or situation.”

  “It is,” Zenora said. Farrell turned and met her gaze. “I’m not saying this because as your mother I would rather sacrifice Honal over you. What Kel said is correct. Meglar wants to control the situation and move only when the odds are overwhelmingly in his favor. But he has the upper hand no matter what we do and he knows that. His numbers are too large. If we destroy this invasion force, he’ll empty Kentrish and lead the attack himself. Once he conquers the rest of Ardus, it won’t matter if Dumbarten attacks Zargon while he’s gone.”

  “Why don’t we invade Zargon?” Farrell asked. The shocked looks on their faces didn’t surprise him. “The only thing holding Meglar back is he fears Dumbarten will attack him. He doesn’t want a two-front war.”

  “He doesn’t,” Horgon said. “But how…. We can’t get an army close enough to Zargon before he’d crush it.”

  “We can, but we won’t need to.” Kel leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Farrell is correct. Meglar worries someone—Dumbarten, me, the Arlefors—will attack his east coast. If we make a few raids, have Dumbarten pretend to make secret plans to invade Zargon, and let that fake information slip to one of Meglar’s spies, it will achieve much of the benefits of a real incursion.”

  “That will take weeks to set up,” Farrell said. “I thought we were leaving in two days.”

  “It won’t take that long and we are leaving in two days.” Kel took a renewed interest in his dinner.

  He cut a piece of meat, dipped it in gravy, and ate it. Everyone waited while he chewed. Like a master bard, he kept the audience on the edge as he took a sip of wine and dabbed his lips with a napkin.

  Kel cleared his throat and surveyed the table. “I conceived of this plan after our raid on Yar-del City. In the weeks since, I’ve spoken to the necessary parties to explain my ideas. The Arlefors can make a few quick raids. Markus can call a war council and pretend to discuss an attack. He can have his spymaster leak the information to one of Zargon’s spies he’s been cultivating since the war began.”

  Farrell liked the idea… in theory. “How long do you think it will stay his hand?”

  “I can’t say.” Kel broke off a crust of bread and ran it around the rim of his plate. “Moving his troops between Zargon and the staging areas will take time. That alone will earn us a few weeks. The rest depends on how serious he takes the threat and how long he waits.”

  Of the group, only Zenora appeared skeptical. Farrell decided to wait for her before speaking. She took a sip, stared into the cup, and set it down slowly. “I don’t share your confidence this will delay his plans.”

  “Oh?” Kel tilted his head. “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t need to recall his troops,” she said. “Meglar is massing ships and slaves along the coast, probably to invade Dumbarten. Those are more than enough reinforcements.”

  “I agree.” Kel smiled and reached for his cup. “Which is why the Arlefors are going to target them for their raids.”

  “You spoke to them about that?” Zenora asked.

  “I did.”

  Kel’s thoroughness impressed Farrell, but he needed his own assurances. “Do you think they’re able to take down the shields around those encampments?”

  “I gave Teberus and his wizards spells that will aid them.” Kel snorted. “Meglar shouldn’t have wasted the effort creating those pathetic excuses for shields. They won’t last two minutes.”

  “Two minutes is ample time to summon reinforcements.” Farrell understood Kel’s disdain but didn’t share the belief his father was a fool. “Are we certain this isn’t a trap? Bait us in with seemingly easy targets and once we attack, he erects a stronger shield that traps us inside?”

  Kel didn’t answer immediately. As the silence lingered, Farrell thought he’d insulted his grandfather. He looked to his mother for guidance, but Kel spoke before he could ask her advice.

  “That’s a valid concern. I doubt Meglar devised such a deception—if one even exists—but his uncle is capable of such thinking.” He looked at Farrell. “You will need to use the Eye to make sure there is nothing hidden.”

  Farrell smiled at finding a way to impress his grandfather. “Of course. We can do it in the morning.”

  “Excellent.” Kel pushed his plate forward. “Now, if there are no objections, I’d like to have dessert. I’m certain I saw cherry pie on the serving cart.”

  FARRELL’S HAND hovered less than a finger’s width from the shield. Kel had been correct. The shield protecting Hargresh, the southernmost of the former Merchant Union cities, wasn’t worth the effort it took to create. He’d found nothing to suggest it was a trap, but it still felt like
one.

  The seawater tickled his nose as he breathed in. If the others knew he’d gone to Hargresh, they’d chase him to Neblor themselves for his stupidity. They’d be right to be upset. He’d told them he was going to collect energy—and that was an honest answer at the time. The side trip hadn’t been part of the plan when he left, but the idea this could be a trap pecked at the back of his mind. Finally he gave in and investigated.

  Pushing the thought of the others aside, he extended his senses until he brushed against the shield. Everything seemed as it appeared with one exception. Extending the protection into the water had created a weak spot. The energy wasn’t calibrated to account for the effect of the ocean on shields. The important question was why.

  If it had been an oversight, the spells Kel had given Teberus would bring the shield down in an instant. The Arlefors would strike fast, destroy what they could, and leave before they met any serious resistance.

  Farrell scanned as much as he could without alerting anyone to his presence. If the weakness had been planned, it would trigger a trap. A counterattack, or worse, a second stronger shield that kept the Arlefors from fleeing, would decimate the raiding party.

  Finding nothing, he stopped his search and swam into deeper water. He finished filling all the storage vessels he’d brought with him and opened his Door home.

  The vault was empty when he arrived, and he cleared the water from his lungs. It still felt odd as the liquid flew out of his mouth and into the ocean, but he was getting used to it. He waved his hand and closed the Door.

  His trip to Hargresh provided more questions than answers. Rather than stew over it, he summoned the Eye and sat in Kel’s chair. It took several different questions and a few follow-ups, but he found what he’d been looking for. The weakness in the shield wasn’t a trap, but there was a plan in place should it fail.

  “Smart,” he said as he put the Eye away.

  “What is smart?” Kel asked.

  Farrell jumped even though he recognized his grandfather’s voice. “Honorus’s balls! When did you get here?”

  “I didn’t expect you to take that long.” Kel’s tone held a hint of irritation. “When you didn’t respond to my calls, I assumed you were here.”

  “I… my mind wandered when I was alone.”

  “Ah.” He nodded and sat in Farrell’s chair. “Where did your thoughts take you that you needed to consult the Eye as soon as you returned?”

  “Hargresh and the other ports the Arlefors plan to raid.” He braced himself for a rebuke once Kel realized Farrell had likely gone to check them personally.

  “Excellent.” Kel relaxed into his chair. “I’d come to ask if you had checked yet, but I see you have.”

  “Yes.” He stood and motioned for the chair. “Did you want yours back? I didn’t expect you’d be here when I sat.”

  Kel waved him off. “Yours is quite comfortable. So answer my original question. What is smart?”

  “The shields are just what they appear, poorly created spells that didn’t account for the effects of the ocean. The flaw was not deliberate, but there is a plan in place should they fail.”

  “So the result is the same.”

  “Exactly.” Farrell focused on his what he’d seen in the Eye and created an image. “Once the shield is down, a spell will release and fire a powerful attack in the direction of the breach.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. The wizard or wizards involved will be expecting an attack while they try to take it down,” Kel said. “An attack afterward will be hardly an afterthought.”

  “That isn’t the smart part. This is.” He swiped his hand across the image and a new shield flared to life.

  Kel leaned forward. “Is that to scale?”

  “Mostly.” He pointed to the image of the Arlefor wizards inside the new shield. “It might be off a few inches, but the placement is correct.”

  “That is smart.” Kel studied the image for a few more seconds. “Does it have a limit?”

  “Unclear, but the premise is to erect the new shield beyond the wizards who lead the attack.” Farrell flicked his fingers and the image disappeared. “How far away will your spells work?”

  “As with most magic, the closer the better.” Kel stared at the air where the image had been. “The spell will work from a great distance, but without knowing how large they can make the new shield, it might not matter.”

  “What if we launch the spell through a Door?” Farrell recreated the image and added a Door inches from the barrier. “The attack would appear to be just a few feet away.”

  “That would keep our forces outside the new shield with only one small Door to use to get in and out.” He stood and approached the construct. “May I move things?”

  Farrell released his hold on the diagram. “Of course.”

  The red jewel on top of Kel’s staff pulsed once, and the black rectangle that represented the Door wobbled. “If we open this here—” Kel moved the staff to the top of the shield, and the image followed. “—it should fool the spell.”

  A burst of light struck the apex of the defensive dome and it blew apart. The counter spell struck the dark patch and disappeared. A second burst followed, but instead of a creating new shield, the energy passed into the Door.

  “That’s….” Farrell moved closer and examined the illusion from below. “How did you think of that? It’s incredible.”

  “Don’t fawn over me, Grandson. It’s embarrassing.” Despite the admonishment, Kel smiled at Farrell. “I merely improved on your idea to use a Door. The beauty of this is it will distract Meglar’s people as they try to figure out what happened.”

  “It’s still brilliant.” He winked at his grandfather. “The question is will it work?”

  “No one can see what we’re doing in here.” Kel waved his staff left and the right. The furniture slid back, leaving an open space in the middle of the room. “Let’s find out.”

  Chapter 4

  THE GUARDS opened the door for Farrell, and he barely remembered to thank them. His quick trip to fill up his storage vessels ended up taking all morning and most of the afternoon. Kel’s idea worked, in theory, but they needed to be sure the Arlefors could enact it without help. That took three trips to Rastoria. It also required Farrell to recreate the shields protecting the targets so Teberus and his wizards could practice.

  Farrell’s stomach rumbled, demanding he make up for skipping lunch. Food would need to wait. He’d been underwater so long he reeked of saltwater, and his mouth tasted like he’d swallowed the Kessan Ocean.

  “Oh, right. I did. Three times.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Lisle stood in the doorway to his study. “And why do you smell like the Yar-del docks?”

  “I had to spend my day in Rastoria.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the smell outta your clothes when you go play fish?”

  “Yes.” He looked away to avoid glaring at her. “You’ve told me several times. Do you think I go just to make your life difficult?”

  When she didn’t answer, he turned toward her and found her a step away. She looked on the verge of tears. “No, child, I don’t. I’m sorry to have picked at you. No doubt you had a good reason to go.”

  She’d done this several times since he told her about the Door in his bedroom. He didn’t regret telling her if it activated it meant he was dead. Someone needed to get the children to safety, and he knew she wouldn’t fail. But he hated to see the angst it caused her.

  “It wasn’t important.” He took her hands in his and squeezed gently. “It may never open, but I had to make sure Geena and Bren are safe.”

  “I know.” Water pooled at the edge of her eyes and she gripped his hands tighter. “My babies need to be safe.”

  She pulled away and headed back for the study. Before she crossed over the threshold, she whispered, “All of them.”

  Farrell knew she didn’t mean for him to hear her, so he didn’t react. She’d been his
rock for so long he didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he quick stepped to his room to change.

  As he pulled off the sweat-soaked clothes, he considered what to do next. It was too early for dinner. Miceral wouldn’t be back for another two hours. Geena was at school and Bren had started his nap only minutes before Farrell got home. He thought about returning to the safe room to read but felt too restless for that.

  Finally he decided food and something sweet to drink would improve his mood. The cooks fussed when he interrupted their evening meal preparation, but they always found him something he liked. Stepping into his boots, Farrell liked the plan. If he timed it right, the cheese bread would still be warm.

  FARRELL’S GUARDS seemed on edge as they marched through the Endor section of Haven. They didn’t like the unknown. This was the first time he’d visited Jursten since he’d returned from Agloth. But it was more than just being in a new place. The community felt tense. Even Farrell felt it.

  The first time Endor guards stopped them, it surprised Farrell. When it happened a second time, he snapped. He ordered them aside and threated to expel them from his realm if they didn’t. It worked, but it also brought Prince Jursten to investigate.

  “You could have sent a page to summon me instead of bullying my guards.” Jursten smiled and held out his arm.

  “If they’d let me—” He saw Jursten’s smirk and tried to sneer. “I hate you.”

  That proved to be the wrong thing to say. One of Jursten’s guards reached for his sword. Farrell’s dwarves surrounded him and assumed a fighting stance.

  “Oh for the love of Falcron.” Jursten eyed his men and shook his head. “Stand down. All of you.”

  The last bit was directed toward the dwarves. Farrell was grateful Jursten said something. Had he spoken, it would have been to freeze every soldier—in both companies.