The thick walls had the same mysterious aura Farrell had noted earlier. He tamped down the temptation to toss a spell at the stone to see the results.
Instead he asked the king, “Is it possible for me to speak with Father Wasquar?”
Thrinton glanced quickly at Nerti. “I thought you wanted to rest.”
“I do, Your Majesty.” As embarrassed as he’d been when Nerti mentioned it to the king, a quiet meal and sleep were exactly what he needed. “I misspoke. I didn’t mean right now. But if possible, I’d like to send him a message.”
From how Thrinton’s face tightened and the tense way he glanced toward Father Aresham, Farrell knew he’d done something wrong.
“Father Aresham,” Nerti cut in, confirming his fears. “Would you please convey a message to the high priest that Khron’s Chosen would like to arrange a meeting?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Aresham bowed deeply, as if he’d just received a royal appointment.
“I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?” Farrell knew the answer.
“Yes, Little One.” Despite his mistake, Nerti didn’t sound angry. “Your request made Thrinton look subservient to the temple. But as you are the Chosen of Khron, Thrinton could not easily deny your request.”
“Should I apologize?” He looked at the king, but Thrinton was speaking to an officer.
“No. Because you didn’t directly ask him to send the message, you can both brush it off as if you meant for the priest to do it. If you apologize it will look like you asked Thrinton to do your bidding.” She nudged him with the side of her head. “Now pay attention. The king is speaking to you.”
Thrinton apologized that he needed to return to his duties. He did, however, promise to clear his schedule in the morning. Several palace servants appeared just as the king finished speaking. One group escorted Nerti and Klissmor through the courtyard, while the others directed Farrell and Miceral to follow them.
“How are you holding up?” Miceral slipped his fingers through Farrell’s and squeezed.
“Not too bad, but I’m glad we don’t have a formal event tonight.” Despite their shorter stature, the dwarves moved at a surprising clip. With the intent of keeping up, Farrell took little notice of their surroundings as they walked. The palace appeared empty, as they passed almost no one on the way to their rooms.
Two soldiers in the silver-and-royal-blue uniforms of the palace guard waited outside their door when they arrived. The two guards snapped to attention, and one pushed open the door.
Inside, several scented candles burned but failed to banish the musty, boarded-up smell. Scanning the room, Farrell noted happily the furniture appeared the right size for humans.
“Our apologies, Chosen.” One of the palace staff moved around them and stepped into the room. “These rooms do not see many visitors, and we didn’t have time to properly air them out.”
“They’re more than suitable for our needs,” Miceral said. “If you could show us where the bath chamber is, we won’t require anything else.”
“Certainly, my lord.” He motioned toward the guards. “They will escort you when you’re ready. While you clean up, I’ll see that food is brought to you.”
He didn’t wait for an answer before spinning and quick-stepping off the way they’d come.
Washed and fed, Farrell felt sleep pulling him toward the bed despite the early hour. He resisted but knew he’d lose the fight soon enough. To keep himself awake, he grabbed the pants he’d worn during the ride and transferred the contents of his endless pocket to the clean pants he’d put on after his bath. While Miceral sat in a large, overstuffed chair cleaning his armor, Farrell pushed a small amount of magic to move the objects from one pair of britches to the other. The effort wasn’t draining, but he couldn’t stifle a yawn. Miceral stopped his work.
“Maybe you should rest.”
A loud knock saved Farrell from brushing off the suggestion. Miceral gave him a questioning glance before moving toward the door a step ahead of his partner. The guard Farrell expected was an elderly priest of Khron. His staff, polished wood with a gold circle on top, marked him as an important cleric.
The dwarf in the doorway surveyed Miceral first. “The hand of Khron is strong in you, child, but you are not His Chosen.”
“That would be correct, Father.” Miceral nodded to his right. “Farrell is His Chosen.”
“Khron’s holy bits!” the priest swore. “More than Khron has claimed you.”
Farrell met the elderly dwarf’s gaze. “So I’ve been told, Father . . .?”
“My apologies, Chosen.” The priest bowed deeply. “I am Father Wasquar. I was told you wished to speak to me.”
“Please come in, Holy Father.” Miceral gently pushed Farrell away from the door to give Wasquar space to enter.
His face burning at his poor manners, Farrell moved farther away than necessary. Before he entered, Wasquar spoke to a pair of younger dwarves behind him.
“You two stay here.”
The wood of his staff clicked on the stone as Father Wasquar walked into their suite. Farrell remembered he’d left his dirty pants on a chair in the common area and summoned a chair closer. “Here, Father.” He moved the seat so it faced away from his soiled clothing. “I apologize that my message brought you to our rooms. I had intended to come pay my respects to you.”
“Thank you.” Father Wasquar settled back into the cushions. Miceral disappeared into the room, and from the corner of his eye, Farrell saw him cleaning up. “But if I hadn’t come to you, we’d have never spoken. How were you going to find me?”
“I’m sure I could’ve found you.” He glanced at Miceral. “I have an eye for such things.”
“Ha! Wizards.” Wasquar slapped his leg with his thick fingers. “You always think magic will solve everything.”
“Usually.” Farrell scanned the remains of their meal for something suitable to drink. “I’m sorry, Holy Father, but we don’t really have any refreshments to offer you.”
“That’s not necessary. I didn’t trudge all the way here just for a drink.” Father Wasquar touched Farrell on the arm. “Please sit down. You’re making me nervous.”
“My apologies.” Farrell sat in the closest chair. “I . . . we . . .”
“Thank you for coming to see us.” Miceral put a hand on Farrell’s shoulder. “Obviously, we expected to speak tomorrow.”
“If this is a bad time, I can come back.” Wasquar didn’t move to get out of his seat. “But when I heard you two had come unannounced, I wanted to meet you right away.”
Smiling, Miceral pulled another chair over. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“Aswick’s description suggested you were ten feet tall, but otherwise you’re both as I expected.” He smiled and slapped both thighs this time. “So, Chosen. You wanted to speak to me?”
“Yes.” Farrell struggled to find the best way to ask. Waiting until he’d rested would have been preferable. “I noticed something odd when we entered the palace area.”
Wasquar nodded. “Aresham told me. Tell me what you think you saw.”
“What I saw was a shield protecting the doors to the cavern. It was faint, and not active, but I could see it. There was another ring of defense around the palace. They weren’t spells, and they weren’t powered by magic. How is that possible?”
“And you think that means what?” The priest leaned forward.
“The Six are involved, though I don’t know how.”
The priest knew what Farrell had seen before he showed up, so he’d clearly had time to prepare an answer, but still he paused. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and touched the tips of his fingers together. He exhaled loudly.
“Though it does not surprise me you can sense these things, you may be the only nondwarf who can.”
“So only dwarves are supposed to see it?” It would explain Aresham’s reaction.
“No, Chosen. Most dwarves can’t see it, either. Even I am only able to
see the protections if I am in the company of the five other high priests and priestesses.” He glanced about the room. “Maybe I could use a drink.”
Wasquar moved briskly to the door, and he spoke to the clerics he’d left outside. A moment later, he returned to his seat.
“Give me the name of a dwarf wizard, dead or living.”
The request took Farrell by surprise. After a moment he shook his head. “I can’t name a single one, but Father Aswick is the only dwarf I’ve met.”
“Surely in your study of world history or specifically great wizards of the world you’ve come across at least one great wizard from among my people.”
Farrell thought about the question again and was embarrassed by the results. “I’m sorry, Holy Father, but I can’t recall a dwarf wizard being mentioned. I suspect it is the arrogance of humans to think we are the only wizards worth noting.”
“The prejudices of your race aside, there is nothing lacking in your education. It is a closely guarded secret that there aren’t many dwarf wizards at all, let alone ones worthy of note. As a great wizard, you can imagine why the dwarf nations don’t want this information widely known.”
“Indeed.” Powerful wizards had changed the course of whole nations, as Kel had done in Kentar.
“In the early days of the world, we relied on human magi to guard us from magical attacks. We had much to offer. Our cities were more advanced, our society stable, and we had no shortage of coins to pay.
“But greed is a powerful force. Why be content with the coins we paid when you could raise an army and take it all? A wizard from Fracturn tried just that and would have succeeded if not for the loyalty of Trellham’s human wizards.
“Once the trust was broken, it was hard to regain. Even the faithful friends of Trellham were regarded with suspicion. The high priests and priestesses from all three dwarf realms gathered in Trellham to beseech the gods for help.”
A knock interrupted Wasquar.
“I’ll get it.” Miceral shot up and walked toward the door before the priest could object.
Two younger priests followed him back, each carrying a tray. After pouring three tankards of ale, they bowed and left without a word. Wasquar took a long pull on his drink while Farrell set his aside.
“That does the trick.” The dwarf put his mug down. “The gods responded, but not in the manner we had asked. We wanted great wizards of our own, but that request was denied. Instead, they granted us divine protection. When the heads of the temples all work together, we can create defensive barriers of great strength. That is what you saw when you entered.”
“What happened to Trellham’s?” Farrell picked up his drink, ran his index finger around the rim, and changed the contents into water without alerting Wasquar to his actions. “I didn’t see anything similar there.”
“Ah, Trellham. Originally all seven prelates worked together to create the barriers. When Neldin betrayed His Siblings, the protections vanished from all three kingdoms. After the war, the Six helped us rebuild them at Colograd and Fracturn. It requires all six high priests and priestesses to change or add to the defenses. Trellham lacks five necessary participants.”
“Isn’t that undue interference?” Miceral asked. “I mean, isn’t this the Six taking a direct hand?”
“Perhaps it is, but the Seven agreed the gods could work through the heads of the temples to protect the dwarves from the other races. There were, however, conditions.”
Miceral squinted. “Conditions? Like what?”
“The heads must agree, we can only create defensive spells around our cities, and the energy will only protect us from other races, not each other.”
“So Fracturn could invade Colograd but Dumbarten could not?” Farrell asked.
“No, Dumbarten could invade our kingdom if they wanted, but they wouldn’t be able to use magic to break our walls or open Doors into our cities. If their army could win the day on its own, they would be able to conquer our kingdom.”
Wasquar took another drink. When he finished, he stood up and retrieved the pitcher of ale. “So, Chosen, now I’ve answered your question, I have one of my own. Why have you come to Colograd?”
Chapter Fifteen
Back inside a mountain, Farrell slept sounder than at any time since they’d left Haven. Even their meeting with Khron’s high priest didn’t keep him awake. He vaguely recalled Miceral getting up, but he fell back asleep almost instantly. When he finally got up himself, he found Miceral dressed and reading a book.
“I sent down for food in case you’re hungry.” Miceral closed the book and came over to kiss him.
“I’m always hungry, but more so today than most.”
“Good thing I ordered extra.” Miceral picked up his book again. “Interesting reading. Did you know Colograd’s first king was a younger son of the king of Trellham?”
“No.” Farrell held out his hand, and Miceral gave him the book. Reading the title, he looked up at his partner. “When did you take an interest in the history of Colograd?”
“I was trying to be quiet and it was on the shelf.” A knock on the door drew their attention. “That ought to be our breakfast.”
Farrell glanced at the book a last time and walked over to the bookshelf.
“Your Majesty?” Miceral’s surprised greeting caused Farrell to come to the door.
“I hope I’m not intruding.” Thrinton stepped into the rooms without waiting for an answer. He held up a hand as he walked, and the two guards stopped at the entrance. Dressed in the armor he’d worn the day before, the king had swapped the platinum circlet for gold for his visit. “I thought I’d come escort you to breakfast.”
Miceral looked at Farrell, and he nodded. They couldn’t decline the “offer.”
“You honor us, Your Majesty.” Farrell bowed appropriately. “If you would give us a few moments to put on suitable attire?”
“Of course.”
With the king waiting, they changed quickly. After inspecting each other to be sure they were presentable for a meeting with the sovereign of Colograd, they returned to the main room. The king stood next to a mural, peering at it as if for the first time.
“The battle of Trellham.” He pointed to the picture. Several dwarves stood resolutely with weapons drawn as a swarm of demons attacked. “This is an inappropriate decoration for a guest room. It shows the shame of our race.”
“Nay, my lord.” Farrell joined the king in examining the scene. “The shame belongs to Khron and His Siblings for allowing it to happen. Without Khron’s outburst, the gates of Neblor would have remained shut.”
“It is unseemly to criticize the actions of the gods, Lord Farrell.” Thrinton seemed sincere in his piety. “My kinsmen who foolishly worshipped Neldin brought it upon themselves.”
Farrell shook his head. “Neldin is a master of deception. Even Khron fell victim to His scheme.”
The king gave the picture a last look. “Even if what you say is true, it is still not a proper scene to welcome our guests.”
“To me this speaks of the resolve the warriors of Trellham displayed in the face of overwhelming odds,” Miceral said. “Courage, honor, and duty are what I see.”
“Spoken like a true servant of Khron.” The king smiled at them. “If you are ready, my cook is already hard at work preparing a meal we both hope you will enjoy.”
Breakfast was served “outdoors” on a balcony overlooking the waterfall. The crystal illuminated the chamber to almost true daylight.
“Your lighting is fascinating.” Farrell looked up as he spoke. “Do you know how it is done?”
“We sit below the tallest peak in the southern mountains.” Thrinton motioned for them to take seats at a round table set for three. “One of Colograd’s first human wizard allies, Hespiten, created the gem for my dwarves. The crystal is linked to the top of the mountain by a shaft magically carved out by Hespiten. Sitting atop that shaft is a smaller gemstone—at least, that is what I was taught. No one has been ab
le to find the stone or the shaft, though many have searched for them.
“The magical crystal outside captures the light of day and transfers it back to the larger one inside. If it is sunny outside, the effect is as you see today. If it is cloudy, the light is less.”
“Incredible.” Farrell turned his wizard’s sight on the ceiling. “The spell is ancient but still functions perfectly.”
Thrinton peered skyward. “The spell has been repaired at least once. Some centuries after the fall of Trellham, it began to flicker. My ancestors called upon the dwarf friend, Kel, for assistance. He honored us by restoring the spells to full potency.”
“We have been following in Kel’s footsteps of late.” The aroma from the food caused Farrell’s stomach to rumble loudly.
Thrinton chuckled softly and motioned to someone inside. “My apologies for delaying your meal. After your long ride to reach us, I’m sure you are still hungry.”
The king’s word reminded Farrell of his companions. “Nerti?”
“Yes, Little One?”
“Have they provided you with appropriate accommodation?”
“Yes. While I appreciate you checking on us, we, much like you, are capable of voicing our displeasure.”
He noted the hint of annoyance and realized his mistake. “My apologies, I . . . I . . .”
“I know you are being polite and making sure we are well. We should leave it at that.”
“Thank you.”
“Chosen?” Thrinton stared at him with a look of concern. “Are you well?”
“Sorry, I was checking on Nerti and Klissmor,” he said. “Not everyone understands they are more than horses with horns.”
“Ah.” Thrinton nodded. “You need not fear for their comfort. My people are well versed in how to treat visiting unicorns—at least we are now.”
“Now?”
“The first time a unicorn came to Colograd, they were housed in a common stable and given hay for dinner. Khron sent His avatar to chide us on our poor manners and the embarrassment we caused Him with Lenore. Ah, breakfast.”
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 85
