“Still.” Gedrin shook his head. “You should not be privy to such information.”
“Yes, I should.” She punctuated her words with a nod. “The person on that stone was very much allowed to have this knowledge.”
Silence followed, and Gedrin alternately looked at Cylinda and away. Finally, he tilted his head up with a purpose. “What is it you want?”
“A tome. I know the spell Meglar used, but I haven’t studied it. Before I attempt to undo it, I’ll want to study the components again.”
“Attempt?” Miceral didn’t mean to speak the word out loud. As all eyes in the room turned toward him, he stood up and moved closer. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Once you have the book, why can’t you fix this?”
“Because there isn’t a counterspell in the book, just the spell itself. I’ll need to figure out how to save Farrell on my own.”
“Not so, Master Cylinda.” Gedrin tilted his head to the side. “We shall all help you save the Chosen.”
“Who are you?” Miceral asked when Father Gedrin left.
Cylinda shook her head. “Remember what I told you on board the Seafoam Rose. Knowing can be dangerous for you.”
“And yet you told Gedrin.”
“It was the only way.” She shrugged. “And he is the first Prelate of Honorus. If anyone can be trusted with my secret, it’s him.”
“You trust him more than me?” Even as he spoke the words, Miceral realized how ridiculous it sounded. But if the High Priest could be told, she could tell him.
“No, of course not. But Honorus is unlikely to punish His high priest.”
“Farrell’s life depends on you, and you think you can keep secrets from me? That’s unacceptable.”
“Miceral….”
“No!” He snapped his finger toward the wizard’s face. “Why did you let me hear what you told Gedrin if you didn’t want to tell me? He’s my life partner. I have a right to know.”
Cylinda stared at him for a moment, then shifted her gaze over his shoulder. When Miceral turned he saw Emerson and Peter staring at them. Before he could return his attention to the wizard, she grabbed him by the arm.
“Come.” She tugged him lightly. “This is not a discussion for everyone’s ears.”
Without waiting for his response, she opened a door and led the way out. After passing several doors, Cylinda opened the fifth door on the left. She never looked inside, but motioned for him to go first.
The room was empty except for two small stools and several pegs. Miceral watched Cylinda wave her hand in front of the door before she turned toward him.
“This will suit our needs.” She waited for a moment, but when he didn’t speak, she nodded once. “What I tell you goes no farther than this room. Not even to Farrell.”
“I won’t promise that.”
“It wasn’t a request.” Her eyes narrowed as her jaw tightened. “There will be no debate. Either you swear or I leave. Agree or don’t, but those are my terms.”
“You don’t get to dictate terms like this is a contract negotiation.”
“Yes, I do!” She moved closer, her body looking ready to strike. “You have no idea the stakes involve. Not just for me, or you, but for Farrell and the world. You want answers? Fine, but they come with a price. Either you pay it, or find the answers on your own.”
From how Farrell talked about her, Miceral knew Cylinda to be powerful and determined. She never raised her voice, but he’d never doubted her talents or resolve.
“And before you start thinking you can decline and let Farrell ferret this out later, forget that notion. Once I cure him, you’ll never see me again. Count on it. As powerful as Farrell is, I promise you, Honorus will ensure he never finds me again.”
“You’d abandon us?”
“Yes.” Her voice wavered, but it only added force to her word. “I’ll have no choice.”
The regret he heard made his choice. “I agree. I swear by Lenore I’ll not reveal what you tell me until either you release me or you tell Farrell.”
“Very well.” Rather than appear to gloat, Cylinda sighed, as if she had hoped Miceral wouldn’t agree. “Before we start, know that there is much I cannot tell you. The Six have forbidden me from speaking of some things, and no amount of protesting from you will give me the ability to answer some questions.”
“That sounds very convenient.” He didn’t try to hide his skepticism.
“Quite the opposite.” She turned away and faced the wall. “Most of what I will tell you, Farrell is not permitted to know. It is why you had to swear an unbreakable oath not to repeat what I tell you.”
“Unbreakable oath?”
Miceral saw a twinkle of amusement in her eyes when Cylinda looked at him again. “Don’t sound so distraught. It is the Six, not I, who bind you to your word. Besides, I can’t see you swearing a false oath, so what is the issue?”
Her words calmed Miceral’s sense of outrage. He never planned to break his oath, so it mattered not that it could not be broken. “There is no issue. Just tell me who you are.”
Cylinda’s lips flirted with a smirk as she inclined her head slightly. “Some background is needed, so have a bit of patience. Kel founded the Order shortly after he left Yar-del. Its purpose has been to keep tabs on Neldin’s followers against the day they rose up again.”
“Neldin has no followers,” Miceral said.
“Yes, he does. Meglar and his family are just the most visible examples.” She walked over to a stool and sat down. Using her hands, she smoothed the creases in her pants until they disappeared. “Kel knew that Neldin could never be truly defeated, only stopped for a time. Three millennia is an eternity to us, even to wizards who live for centuries, but to the gods?” She shrugged.
“So who was—is—in this Order of Kel?”
“Originally, the kings or queens of Yar-del and Dumbarten, the first prelate of Honorus, and a handful of wizards and military people. Kel’s heir was the titular head of the order.”
“And Dumbarten’s kings accepted that?”
Cylinda chuckled. “No, they were less than pleased, but in the two thousand years since Kel left Yar-del, every king or queen except two had been a grand master wizard. The two exceptions were so close it didn’t make a lot of difference.”
Miceral leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms on his chest. He tried not to frown at her attempts to divert the conversation. “How is all this related to Farrell’s name and yours being on the stone?
“A wizard is taught the value of patience, Miceral.” The left side of her mouth curled up. “Just as one doesn’t rush a complicated spell, important information must be given in whole.”
Cocking his head to the side, he glared her attempt at humor. “Spare me the wizardry lesson.”
Cylinda raised an eyebrow and returned his stare. “Although Kel left Yar-del and never returned, he did make appearances in Dumbarten for centuries. He would show up without warning and disappear just as fast. Just when folks assumed he’d never return, he’d turn up.”
“Farrell seems to believe he’s alive.”
“I’m inclined to agree with Farrell. Kel’s book would be proof enough, but he’s left other evidence that he’s still among us. The last known contact with Kel came well more than five centuries ago. One day, members of the order found a stone in the meeting room as well a door in what had been a solid wall of rock and earth. Under the stone was a message.
“The stone would list the names of all his living descendants, but only his successor could enter the room.”
The reminder that Cylinda was a descendant of Kel stifled his next question. Anger boiled in him, threatening his already fragile control of his emotions. “All this time and you never told him? Did you ever think about how much it would have helped to know he had at least one relative still alive?”
She avoided his gaze and walked over to face the blank stone wall. “Every day since I arrived.”
Though she spoke in
barely more than a whisper, Miceral heard every word. “How can you claim to care about him when you let him suffer like that?”
“Things are never that simple, Miceral.” Slowly she turned, and he could see tears at the corners of her eyes.
“Oh yes, I forgot, Honorus ordered you not to say anything.” Snorting, he shook his head. Miceral had expected answers to make him feel better, not worse. With every word, Cylinda fanned his anger until now it burned fiercely and hot.
Instead of flinching under his harsh words, Cylinda narrowed her eyes and her jaw muscles tightened. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, so I’ll forgive you for your sarcasm. Everything I’ve done, everyone has done, has been for the sole purpose of preparing Farrell to face Meglar.”
Miceral had heard this justification before. “The notion that this is for his benefit wears thin. Nothing would have been better for him than to have his friends and family to support him.”
Cylinda stared at him, shaking her head slowly. “I know how much you love him and that you think you know what’s best for him, but you weren’t there. The Farrell you know, the one confident in his abilities, the one who looks for answers himself rather than seeks others to solve them, the one who has only himself to depend on, did not exist ten years ago. We did what we had to do.”
After pushing himself off the wall, Miceral flung his arms wide. “Honorus isolated Farrell for his own good? That’s what you want me to believe?”
“Farrell has never been alone, nor has he been without help or guidance.”
“Ridiculous.” He waved a hand at her and started for the door. Part of him wanted to leave, but he still didn’t have his answers. Spinning on his heel, he found Cylinda staring at him. “You still haven’t told me what I’ve asked.”
“As I was trying—”
“You’ve done everything but try to answer my question!” Realizing that yelling wouldn’t help him convince her to answer, he took a deep breath to compose himself. “The story about Kel, the Order, and that Neblor-be-damned room, none of that tells me who you are. Who you really are. We both know your name and Farrell’s aren’t on that rock. So tell me, Cylinda, whose names are on Kel’s stone?”
She avoided his glare, picking at a bit of string on her tunic sleeve. Miceral’s chest started to burn, and he realized he had been holding his breath. He forced himself to exhale. As he prepared to repeat his question, Cylinda finally looked up.
“The last two names are Halloran and his mother, Zenora.”
HOLDING FARRELL’S hand, Miceral drew comfort from the warmth. Despite the assurances from Father Gedrin and the wizards, he didn’t trust the stasis spells to keep Farrell alive as long as necessary. To Miceral’s eye, his life partner had lost weight and his skin had an unhealthy pallor.
It had been three days since Gedrin had interrupted their conversation in the small room with the requested book. Cylinda had disappeared without a word once she’d received Kel’s tome, and Miceral had barely seen her since.
He kept reminding himself that if she had told him the truth—and Gedrin obviously believed her—then Farrell could still be saved. By all he knew, Zenora was a formidable wizard. She of all the wizards he could think of had not only the skill, but also the motivation to save Farrell.
“It’s his kingdom. He deserves to know.” Gedrin’s voice alerted him to the priest’s arrival.
“Right now, Markus doesn’t need to be told,” Cylinda said. “When Farrell is healed, we can let him know. Until then, he will only get in the way.”
“Get in the way? He’s the king.”
“I’m well aware of who Markus is, Holy Father, but I say we wait.” The door opened and the wizard and priest entered. “What is it you think telling him will do to help? He can’t read Kel’s book. Neither can any of his wizards, including his aunt. I don’t need any further distractions.”
“If you’re planning to bring King Rothdin and Queen Nerti into Dreth, he needs to be told.”
“Why?” Her tone had changed in the past few days. “How will telling him help us cure Farrell? Besides, I didn’t come to Dumbarten for help. I came to Honorus’s temple. Unless you’re saying you answer to Markus—a development the other monarchs of Endor would not be pleased to hear—I see no reason to tell him.”
“This is still Dumbarten, not… someone else’s domain.”
“Father Gedrin, you’ve long argued that Dumbarten’s reach doesn’t extend to the temple grounds.” She raised an eyebrow at him, as if waiting for a denial. “What really has you worried is your wizards have seen Farrell’s aura.”
“Indeed.” Whether he meant to or not, the priest stared at the unconscious body. “They’re concerned we might not be able to contain him without more help.”
“I understand.” She moved to the foot of the bed, her staff clicking as she walked. “I’ll let Rothdin and Nerti explain to you why that won’t be an issue.”
“And what if my position is the same after I speak with them?” The prelate appeared to Miceral’s left and laid a hand on Farrell’s forehead. “Markus is the king. He deserves to know.”
“Father, clearly I can’t stop you, but no one is saying don’t ever tell Markus. Just wait until we’ve made the attempt.”
Miceral felt like he’d stepped between two warriors about to duel. He looked from Cylinda to Gedrin, waiting for one of them to blink. Finally the priest nodded.
“Very well, I will defer to Lord Rothdin’s wisdom in this.”
“Thank you.” Her relieved smile lacked any sense of triumph.
With the standoff over, Miceral found his voice. “What’s this about Nerti and Rothdin?”
“Cylinda believes she has found a way to revive your partner.” Gedrin’s wan smile didn’t seem encouraging. “But… I’ll let her explain.”
He glanced at the wizard, who rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “How long until they arrive?”
“I spoke to Teclelion just before I came to find you. He said he’d send them through at tenth hour this morning, our time.” Gedrin shifted his gaze to the clock on a table. “You have about a quarter of an hour.”
The high priest smirked and left before Cylinda could say anything.
“That man.” Shaking her head, she smiled at Miceral. For the first time since he’d met Cylinda, the smile seemed genuine and familiar. She motioned toward two green-robed healers in the doorway. When the pair started to walk over, she turned her gaze on Miceral. “We need…. I’d like to talk about how to help Farrell. Let’s go find an empty room.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Miceral, I realize you don’t agree with what happened, but believe me when I say I had no choice. It was this or lose Halloran. Better we both suffer than he died.”
Hearing the pain in her voice, Miceral tried to see past his anger. If he were being honest, he didn’t believe Cylinda meant to hurt Farrell. “I accept you believe that.”
When the healers reached Farrell’s bed, Miceral stood up and followed Cylinda. She didn’t speak as she led them through a side door. For the first time since he’d arrived, Miceral took a moment to examine the surroundings.
The stone felt old. To most people the walls were just more rocks piled onto each other, but not to him. Having spent his entire life inside a mountain, he’d become more attuned to his surroundings. Even with all the paintings, tapestries, and other wall hangings, he could tell they’d used marble and granite, the latter with a hint of quartz running through the odd stone.
Cylinda walked farther into the temple than last time. When she stopped by an open door, she didn’t turn to acknowledge him before entering. Unlike the first room, this one had several overstuffed chairs, a sideboard with a pitcher and glasses, and a floor-to-ceiling set of shelves crammed with books. On a small table near one of the chairs, what appeared to be Kel’s book sat opened.
“Have a seat if you like.” She motioned toward one of the two chairs opposite the one next to Kel’s bo
ok. After settling into her seat, she ran a finger across the open page. Tapping the sheet several times, she turned to Miceral. “One advantage of a magical book no one can read—no one will try to take it either.”
Miceral almost told her he’d stand but decided to try to be civil. She was Farrell’s mother, and when he woke up, all three of them would likely spend time together. When he sat down and leaned back, the supple leather seemed to envelop him in a soft embrace. “These are comfortable.”
“This is one of Gedrin’s reading rooms.”
“So you know how to revive him?” Civility only extended so far.
“Yes, I believe I do.” She glanced at the book. “The spell is quite insidious. It traps the wizard inside his own mind. Farrell might not even know what’s happened to him.”
“How did the spell get past his shield?” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked anyone before. “It was still up when Farrell was struck.”
“The magic involved is ingenious. It used some of Farrell’s energy to slip past his shields.”
“Farrell’s energy?” He didn’t expect to understand everything, but this made no sense. “The man who attacked him wasn’t a wizard. How could he have stolen some of Farrell’s energy?”
“The pirate was merely a vessel. Meglar was the source of the spell.”
Miceral felt his heart pounding harder and sat forward. “You can determine that?”
“I can.” Cylinda chewed her lower lip, then stood up. “Every wizard has their own feel, almost like the sound of their voice. Unlike a voice, however, I’ve never heard of any wizard being able to change the feel of their magic.”
“You hid yours from Farrell all these years.”
“No. Honorus did that.” She paused, shaking her head. “He changed everything about me; my looks, my age, my aura, so that no one would be able to recognize me.”
Not even her son. Cylinda—Zenora’s pain brought Miceral to the brink of tears. Farrell had always spoken of how much his mother had loved him. To have that ripped away…. Miceral knew what that felt like.
Champion of the Gods, Books 1-2 Page 55
