Author: Andrew Q. Gordon
Category: LGBT
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“He will be put in a cell in the bowels of the city and housed with common criminals.”
“Can he escape?”
Drendar smiled wickedly. “Though such things are possible, were he to get out of his cell without an escort, I will leave orders that he is to be killed on sight.”
Jursten held out his arm and nodded. “I agree.”
Drendar accepted and the two moved closer. Jursten whispered something into the dwarf’s ear and Drendar nodded.
His condition met, Drendar turned to Farrell. “If my offer is acceptable, I can have my guards remove his offensive presence from the room.”
Farrell turned to Miceral. “What would you do?”
“At this point it would shame Drendar if you refuse. Since Jursten does not object, I think we should accept.”
Turning back to Drendar and Jursten, Farrell nodded. “We accept.”
Chapter 5
CORVIS STRUGGLED with the guards to no avail, and he finally flopped to the ground. If he thought his excessive weight would prevent the dwarves from removing him from the throne room, he was wrong. Two soldiers looped a chain around his bound legs, and two others helped drag the screaming man away.
“That is not the way I would go to my fate,” Thrinton said in a low voice. “There is no honor in being a coward.”
“He never had any honor, so I’d have been surprised if he’d found some now,” Miceral said.
“Have Queen Foria brought in,” Farrell said to Jagwin.
Farrell didn’t know what to expect from Corvis’s wife. He’d only met her a few times and their conversations were brief. Bendict had said she was smart and beautiful. She had used the later to gain the throne and the former to help her husband rule. She had not reacted well to Farrell’s marginalizing Corvis.
Foria marched into the throne room clutching her youngest child to her chest. Her son and daughter walked in front of her. Farrell glanced at Miceral and saw his displeasure reflected back at him. They had summoned the queen, not her and her children.
Unlike her husband, she stood tall and ignored the crowd around her. When she reached the base of the dais, she bowed as deeply as she could with her infant son in her arms.
“Your Majesties sent for me?”
Her tone was too light for the moment. They had summoned her to address Corvis’s removal, not to invite her to a ball. It took him a moment, but Farrell stifled his irritation. She’d no doubt seen her husband dragged off screaming and was trying to put on a brave face.
“Yes, Queen Foria, we did.” Farrell scanned the room until he spotted the other person he wanted. “Duke Bendict, would you also come forward.”
Foria’s expression wavered for a moment as the duke stepped through the crowd. Bendict knew what was coming, but the queen did not. Farrell had no desire to drag it out further.
“Queen Foria, you husband has been convicted of plotting to kill Prince Jursten. The evidence was overwhelming and vetted by several neutral parties, including all six of Trellham’s high priests and priestesses.” Farrell couldn’t get a read on what the queen was thinking, so he pressed on.
“As this crime occurred in Trellham, it required that King Miceral and I respond. He was sentenced to life imprisonment in a Fracturn jail cell.”
Farrell expected a reaction, but the hint of a smile Foria quickly suppressed wasn’t it. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake with what he did next. “Although Corvis fell under our jurisdiction for his crime, the succession of Respital is not a matter for Trellham’s kings to decide. We do, however, have an interest in who will represent Respital to Haven’s council.”
He shifted his gaze to Bendict. “Our reading of Respital’s laws of succession preclude Queen Foria from assuming the throne.”
“That is correct, Your Majesties.” Bendict nodded but avoided glancing at the queen. “She was not born to the royal family and as such has no claim on the throne.”
Foria’s emotions again leaked out. She glared at Bendict before she noticed Farrell staring at her. They locked eyes, and it took all his restraint not to read her thoughts. She couldn’t completely hide her contempt, and he nearly scuttled his plans. Nearly.
“Though we may not decide who will succeed Corvis, our position is Wrenford is the rightful heir.” He glanced at the seven-year-old boy. It wasn’t clear he understood everything that had happened.
Bendict looked to the collection of Respital’s nobility behind him and turned back to Farrell. “Though many can lay claim to the throne, myself included, none would have as strong a claim as Prince Wrenford. I have not spoken to my fellow council members, but I will lend my voice in his support.”
Farrell paid little attention to what followed. Bendict’s support would ensure Wrenford was not deposed. Everything else said was merely for show. If needed, Miceral would threaten to evict the Respital nobility if Bendict wasn’t appointed Wrenford’s regent.
Of more concern was Foria. Despite their support for her and her son, her attitude hadn’t changed. Maybe it was foolish to expect it would, but they weren’t going to allow an all-out fight for Respital’s throne. Unfortunately, Miceral would need to watch her on his own.
Another reason to dislike Corvis.
“HOW LONG will you be gone?” Zenora asked, reaching out to take Geena from Farrell.
“As long as it takes,” Kel said.
Farrell rolled his eyes, kissed his daughter, and handed her to his mother. “You be good, sweetie.”
Zenora gathered her granddaughter and looked at Kel. “Can you ever give a direct answer?”
“There are things out of my control that will determine how long this will take. I truly can’t answer your question.” He moved closer and kissed Geena. “Be good.”
“I don’t want you and Papa to go.” Geena twisted in Zenora’s arms. “Why can’t you stay with us?”
“We have a few places to go and need to meet some of Grandpa Kel’s friends.” He kissed her again. “We’ll be back soon.”
Farrell took Bren from Miceral, doing his best to avoid his partner’s gaze. “I hate leaving.”
“I know.” Miceral slipped his hand around Farrell’s waist. “Just be careful.”
“I think you’re going to have more problems than we will.” Farrell bounced Bren in his arms, and two tiny hands reached out and framed his face. Bren patted Farrell’s cheeks and giggled. “And not just because you’ll have your hands full with this tiny terror.”
“Father and I can handle Foria and Respital.” Miceral looked at his son. “Him? I’m not so sure.”
Farrell laughed, and Bren tapped his cheeks again. “I’m sure you can, but I’m sorry I’m not here to help.”
“Be good, little man.” Farrell kissed Bren on the cheek and hugged him a bit tighter. He bent down and held out his arm for Geena.
She ran to him, and he scooped her up. Farrell had to clamp down on his emotions to avoid spillage to his daughter. “You be good for Daddy and Miss Lisle.”
“I will, Papa.” A wave of sadness hit him, and he looked at his mother. She nodded at him, and he surrounded Geena to avoid her from affecting Miceral.
Tears formed in her eyes, and Farrell used a finger to wipe them away. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
“You better,” Miceral said.
“Count on it.”
He carried them to where Lisle waited and handed them to her. “Take care of them.”
“As if you need to tell me that.” She smiled, but Farrell knew it was forced. “Come home soon.”
She didn’t wait for him to answer before leading the children away. Farrell saw Master Heather and another healer, who immediately took Geena’s hand. When they turned the corner, Farrell felt a surge of fear and sadness, but it winked out a second later.
“Thank the Six Heather brought a healer trained in empathy,” he said to Miceral as much to avoid saying goodbye as to explain. “Geena’s emotions were leaking out.”
“I thought I fe
lt something.” Miceral put his hand on Farrell’s hip and turned until they were face-to-face. “I’m going to miss you.”
Farrell leaned forward and kissed him. “Me too.”
Conscious Kel waited for him, Farrell didn’t drag out their goodbye. Beyond the open Door, Nerti and Flemin appeared ready to run. The sun barely pierced the horizon, but it signaled they needed to leave.
After a last kiss to Miceral and a hug to his mother, Farrell scooped up his saddlebag and crossed the threshold without looking back. Kel stepped next to him a moment later.
“Goodbyes are always hard.” Kel put a hand on his shoulder. “Some are harder than others.”
He turned toward his grandfather to ask what he meant. Kel looked into the distance and swallowed loudly. Farrell let the question go and patted Kel’s hand. “We should go.”
Farrell slung his bag over his shoulder as he approached Nerti. She nodded and he rubbed her neck. “Good morning, my queen. It looks to be a good day to begin a journey.”
“Good morning to you, young king.” She pressed her head to his face. “Every day we get up is a good day for a journey.”
He looked through the Door at Miceral and his mother. “I’ll have to defer to you on that.”
The Door closed, and they mounted without speaking. Unlike their trip to Rastoria, Farrell felt little enthusiasm for the open-ended nature of this journey. He knew his future was uncertain and time with his family was precious to him.
Farrell watched the gate close. They’d used the southwest exit to Trellham because it was as far south as he could open a Door. The gates were identical to the ones outside Haven and hadn’t been used in over three thousand years.
With the mountains to their right, the four travelers set off. They rode through lands claimed by Honal. This close to the mountains they didn’t encounter anyone. According to Kerstand, no one settled this far west because there was nothing they wanted in the area.
Kel created a double-layer spell to hide them from Meglar and his wizards. The first part kept them hidden from all but the most focused attempt to detect them. If someone pierced that spell, they would find an Arvendish clansman and a shaman riding south on sturdy but unremarkable horses. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, but it would keep them safe long enough to raise their defenses.
Nerti and Flemin set a leisurely pace—for unicorns—and Kel used the ride as instructional time.
“Are we going to ride around or do we want me to open a Door?” Farrell asked.
“We are headed in the right direction,” Kel said.
“Why are we going south?”
Kel looked over and smiled. “To visit the people of Bendar.”
“Bendar?” He hadn’t meant to speak out loud. “They’re just a few scattered nomads there. Who is there to see?”
“Your education is lacking,” Nerti said without any humor. “The clans of Bendar are far more organized than you think.”
“They are?” His mother—nor anyone else—never mentioned a kingdom in the Southern Wastes.
“The clans have made their lives in the snows before I arrived on Ardus,” Kel said. “Over the centuries their numbers increased until they covered most of the southern end of Ardus.”
“So they’re like the clans of Arvendia?” Farrell hoped they’d be easier to deal with than Darg and his people.
“No, the Bendari are more unified,” Nerti said. “Each clan has a chief, but the Shaman speaks for them all.”
“The Bendari are ruled by a wizard… shaman king?”
“It is not that simple,” Kel said. “The clans are, as Nerti said, unified. It is rare they disagree, but if they do, the Shaman will resolve things. But She Who Guides rules the Bendari.”
“She Who Guides?” Farrell took a moment to smother his irritation. His teachers had told him little was known about the nomadic people who lived in the Southern Wastes. They made it sound as if no one ever had contact with them. “Is that their queen?”
“No.” Kel sounded amused. “I’m not surprised you don’t know much about the Bendari. They do not interact with the rest of Ardus.”
“How do you know so much about them?”
“They considered my status as Champion of the Six as a sign of favor from the gods. The Bendari welcome me as one of their own.”
“Mother is also afforded great respect among the clans,” Flemin said.
“You are?” Farrell had a brief moment of annoyance that everyone knew so much about Bendar except him.
“Of course, Little One,” Nerti said. “As is Rothdin. The Bendari are a devout people and your father and I are servants of Honorus and Lenore.”
Farrell sat up and blinked. Had he been riding a horse, he’d have fallen off. The Six were everywhere on Nendor. Of course Their servants would be welcome among all people. Even people Farrell barely knew existed.
“Since we have time, allow me to fill in the gaps in your education,” Kel said.
Farrell did his best to pay attention as Kel spoke, but his mind wandered at times. Fortunately Nerti knew when he was drifting and kept him on task. To Farrell’s dismay, the lesson took up most of the morning. When it was over, however, he had a good working knowledge of the people they were going to meet.
Kel didn’t know the number of Bendari clans. Given they covered a third of Ardus, he speculated the count would be great. Using Arvendia as a guide, Kel believed they were the most populous nation on the continent.
The Shaman belonged to all the clans. He traveled with She Who Guides and a select group of Bendari. The group was small and always on the move. Once every fifteen years, the Shaman called the clans together for a celebration. In extraordinary times a convocation could be called sooner.
“An emergency call to all the clan chiefs went out last month,” Kel had told him. “That hasn’t happened since the Battle of Trellham.”
Farrell didn’t need to ask why. Although the chiefs would meet, the council of shamans would decide all matters of consequence.
Whether through ignorance or prejudice, Heminaltose dismissed shamans as festival conjurers. Farrell had the impression they were like magicians who used tricks and sleight of hand to entertain fairgoers for a few coins. Kel, however, had other ideas.
“Though they chant, their magic is powerful,” Kel said. “They are highly skilled at group magic, much more so than Belsport’s wizard constables. Even you or I would be hard-pressed if we faced a determined group of shamans.”
“They sound like worthy allies.”
Kel snorted loud enough that Farrell heard it over the galloping hooves. “That assumes a fact that is not yet true. They are not yet our allies in this war. You have not yet earned their alliance.”
Now he understood at least this leg of their journey. “Is there some test I need to prepare for?”
“No. They will judge you in whatever way they handle such things,” Kel said.
The idea of being judged without knowing the criteria didn’t sit well with Farrell. The trip could end up being a waste of time. Time he needed for other things. Or it could be productive.
“Can you tell me what the Shaman is like?”
“I have known many of those who held the title Shaman,” Kel said. “I am not certain I’ve met the current one. The last time I was in Bendari, the Shaman was a young man new to his position.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Before I retrieved the Hand from Dragash.” Kel’s answer was terse. Before Farrell could follow up, Kel added, “There is nothing to be gained from this conversation. They will assess you by whatever standard they use. Rather than dwell on what we can’t change, let’s discuss the shields you are going to use to protect yourself on Gharaha.”
Farrell groaned and felt a sudden hitch in Nerti’s step. This was why they left Haven, but Kel didn’t have to dispel his hopes for a relaxing ride so soon.
THE FOURTEENTH day from Haven began much as the other thirteen: get up, eat, break camp, ride
south. Every day Kel taught him at least one new bit of magic. After that he reviewed things Farrell thought himself well versed in. Despite what Kel kept telling people, Farrell was not in the same class as his legendary ancestor.
Snow on the ground first appeared two days prior. Spotty at first, it quickly encompassed their entire world. Though their route lay buried beneath the blanket of white, Nerti and Flemin kept to a path only they could see.
Gray clouds gathered as the day wore on. As far south as they’d traveled, daylight failed before the end of fifth hour. If Kel held to his practice, they’d stop just before the sun set. Each day that moment arrived a bit sooner, but he seemed in no hurry, so it didn’t matter.
Farrell studied the sky and wondered if they were in for a snowstorm. Lost in these thoughts, he nearly fell from Nerti’s back when she abruptly stopped.
“What…?” He looked up and Kel glared at him.
“You should be more alert to your surroundings instead of daydreaming. There are Chamdon are in the area. Flemin can smell their presence.”
Farrell reached into his pocket and call up the Eye of Honorus. When he pulled it out, Kel nodded.
“Good. Don’t use magic unless absolutely necessary.” Kel pulled his white cloak tighter and faded into the snowy background. “We’re not as shielded as I’d like, and I fear magic will leak out from our protections. I’d rather your…. Meglar’s wizards not find us right now.”
Farrell ordered the blue gem to show him the nearest group of Chamdon. The vision in his head whirled across the white landscape. The image slammed to a halt when it came upon a swarm of mindless brutes.
He scouted their numbers, gauged their speed, and oriented himself to their location. Before he pulled back, he expanded the search area to be sure there were no other raiding parties.
“A large pack of Chamdon run south about two miles ahead of us. They are chasing a small clan who seem unaware of their danger.” He put the Gift away. “I asked to see any other Chamdon south of Trellham, and this was the only group I found.”
Kel nodded, but Farrell shook his head.