Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2 Page 8

  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.

  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!