The Keeper's Heritage

by Trenna McMullin

  If only she could send out Joran to investigate! Then they would be able to get information quicker, through the link he shared with Ky’ara. But Taren was putting the boy through a strict training regimen and there was no question of letting him leave. Things were moving quickly now and she knew that if she didn’t take definitive action soon, the government would decide to crush them once and for all—openly— and with more than one halfhearted attack on an out-of-the-way fortress.

  * * * * *

  Ky’ara bent over the book, soaking up the knowledge it contained. She held the crystal carefully above each page, letting the captured moonlight shine on the words that appeared only under its glow. The book was not that large, but it was tiring to read and for some reason she could only read a few pages before her eyes started to blur from the strain.

  She had already finished it once of course, even reading at such a slow pace. But she still didn’t fully understand what it was telling her except that she was supposed to fix everything…somehow. So she searched the pages constantly, trying to glean something from the fading words that she hadn’t the first time through. Every sentence seemed to have double meanings and the most obvious ones were never what she needed. Some sentences were perplexing even in and of themselves, with no discernable meanings whatsoever.

  For instance, she had puzzled and puzzled over the very first sentence of the book countless times, but it never really made sense. She sighed, setting down the crystal and absently looked over at the other book that sat on the table. It was the blue book that she had purchased in Gallagos. The empty pages looked just like the ones in the volume she read now, but even under the light of the crystal, it stubbornly refused to reveal any writing. It was so similar to the green book that she assumed it was a companion volume, a continuation of the prophecies revealed in the first…A sudden thought struck her, and she smacked herself in the forehead. Of course! How could I have been so stupid!

  It wasn’t a continuation of the green book; it was a prequel of some sort. “The first was a history, this is a foretelling.” That was what the first sentence had been trying to tell her. The green book was the second that the seer had written, and it told of things to come. The blue one must be the first book and it must contain information about what had happened before the seer’s time. She turned to examine the cover of the green book more closely. Sure enough, there was a small numeral two on the bottom right hand corner. It had been right under her nose the entire time. Setting the book down with a sigh, she began to massage her temples; a massive headache was coming on.

  “Still frustrating?”

  She raised her head in surprise as Taren spoke from just behind her.

  “Sort of,” she replied, “Actually, I finally figured it out. I just can’t believe it took me so long to realize what it was saying! I feel so stupid…look at this.”

  She pointed out the first sentence of the book and Taren bent to read it over her shoulder.

  “It seems fairly cryptic,” he said.

  “That’s what I thought,” Ky’ara agreed, “and at first it just seemed to be entirely random. I couldn’t understand it really. But if I take this…” She placed the blue book on the table right next to the green one. “…then it takes on a whole new meaning.”

  Taren looked at the two books side by side. “So the blue book is the history it talks about, and the green one is a prophecy…hmm… where did you get the blue book?”

  “That’s the amazing thing about it,” Ky’ara shook her head, perplexed. “I just picked it up at a used bookstore when we were in Gallagos. Out of all the stores and all the books that could have caught my eye, I just happened to pick up this one.” She paused for a moment, fingering the chain that held the crystal, and frowning. “It was the same way with this necklace, too. I just happened to notice it at a secondhand shop, and decided to buy it, randomly. Somewhat of an odd coincidence, don’t you think?”

  Taren smiled ruefully, “It’s not so odd if you think about it. You have to remember that events will twist themselves in your favor when you are around. When there is only a one in a million chance, your presence makes it more likely that the ‘one’ will occur. It’s subconscious, but you draw things and people to you that can help you.”

  Ky’ara sighed. “For once I’d like the odds to actually be a million to one in my favor, rather than the other way around—even if I do always get lucky.”

  Taren shrugged. “So, I don’t suppose you’ve figured out how to read what’s in the blue one yet, have you?” he asked, turning the conversation back to its original topic.

  “No.” Ky’ara shook her head. “It doesn’t work the same way as the other one. And I have no idea what to even try.”

  Taren picked up both books and tucked them under his arm, then lifted Ky’ara to her feet. “Well, I think you’ve been in here by yourself for long enough today. It’s no use puzzling over the same things all day; you might as well come outside and get some fresh air.”

  Ky’ara nodded in agreement and let him lead her to the door and out into the hallway. Calistra greeted them just outside the door, hands on her hips and a distinctly annoyed expression on her face.

  “Ky’ara, I did not show you that book so you could sit in a stuffy library all day trying to figure out the cryptic ramblings of some old man,” she chided her.

  “Well, I need to figure out what to do next, so I thought the best way…” Ky’ara protested, taken aback by Calistra’s tone of voice.

  “That’s not my point,” Joran’s sister broke in, waving aside her protests. “I can’t believe you! I have hardly seen hide or hair of you since we arrived and now I find out that you’ve been keeping things from me!”

  Ky’ara racked her brain, trying to figure out what Calistra was going on about, but nothing came to mind.

  “I’m sorry Calistra, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stated.

  Calistra shook her head in exasperation. “Your birthday you silly girl! I’m talking about the fact that you turned eighteen over a month ago and you neglected to even mention it to me!”

  Taren struggled to keep from laughing at the expression on the woman’s face. Calistra was a bit eccentric at times, to get so worked up over a little thing like a birthday…come to think of it, his birthday had passed already as well. He was twenty-two now, or was he five hundred twenty-two, (give or take a few years)? It was a confusing thing to figure out. The years he had been sealed shouldn’t really count, but technically his birthday had been five centuries before. Ah well, what does it matter? he thought.

  “I didn’t even think about it,” Ky’ara was replying to Calistra’s outburst.

  That was a lie. Actually, she had realized it was her birthday when they were traveling, but she hated when people made a big deal over her, so she hadn’t said anything about it and had sworn Mier to secrecy as well.

  “That is just totally unacceptable!” Calistra railed, “We’ll have to have a party for you, and I have to get a present…Oh! We should have a ball! Everyone needs something to lighten their spirits and a ball will be just the thing…of course, there’s so little time…it’ll have to be at the end of next week…”

  Ky’ara cut in before Calistra could get too wrapped up in her planning. A thrill of terror went through her when the woman mentioned a ball—dancing was not one of her strong points and she would just make a fool out of herself in front of everyone. “Thanks, but I don’t need a party or presents….and especially not a huge ball. It’s nice of you to be thinking of me, but I really would prefer not to…”

  “Oh nonsense!” Joran’s sister contradicted her, “Everyone loves a party! And had you still been in Coledria you certainly would have had a celebration. We might ignore most of the conventions of society out here, but birthdays are important. I really must insist.”

  Taren nudged Ky’ara in the ribs when she opened her mouth to protest. “Let her have her fun,” he murmured, “she’s right; everyone is wo
rrying over what the government is going to throw at us next and they need something to distract them. Your birthday is just an excuse for her.”

  Ky’ara closed her mouth and frowned. Taren was right. Everyone had been far too worked up in the weeks following the attack, especially Calistra. Now that she thought about it, the woman looked like she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. There were shadows under her eyes and, though she smiled, Ky’ara could see the worry hidden in her face.

  Ky’ara sighed. She knew she’d have to agree before the woman would leave her alone, but she put off the moment as long as possible. “How did you find out about it?”

  Calistra grinned wickedly. “I have my ways.”

  Ky’ara rolled her eyes. “You are entirely too much like your brother, or, I should say, he is entirely too much like you. Both of you have an unhealthy preoccupation with keeping pointless secrets.”

  “It’s fun,” Joran said from behind them. “So what secret are we talking about?”

  “My birthday,” Ky’ara said resignedly.

  “OOOooh.” He grinned. “When is it?”

  “When was it you mean,” Calistra answered him, “It passed almost a month ago, and she didn’t tell us. Talk about keeping secrets.”

  “Okay, okay, I get your point. We can have the party,” Ky’ara finally agreed, throwing up her hands in mock surrender.

  “I knew you’d see it my way.” Calistra smiled broadly and linked arms with her, pulling her down the hall away from the boys. “We’ll have to decide on the colors, and get decorations…”

  “And plan the menu,” Ky’ara said dully, figuring she might as well get in on the planning now, before Calistra did everything her own way.

  “Yes, yes,” Calistra agreed, “and you’ll have to be fitted for a new dress of course…”

  Taren put his hand on Joran’s shoulder as the two women walked out of sight around a corner. “Come on, I guess it’s back to training.”

  “But we just finished!” Joran protested.

  “Do you want to get pulled into running errands or helping with party plans?” Taren raised his eyebrows.

  “Now that you mention it,” Joran said hurriedly at the thought of carrying fluffy pink bows and streamers and everything else his sister would make him do, “I think more training would be great.”

  Chapter 2: Research

  “She has essentially disappeared, master,” Iregh reported. He knelt behind his liege, head bowed respectfully though he knew the Dark One would never condescend to actually turn and look at him.

  “Clearly she has joined the rebels in their mountain city, but we still have not been able to get close…ancient magic protects that place, and the traitors have been cautious with their entrances into the mountains…” he trailed off, afraid it might sound like he was making excuses, “What would you have me do?”

  “Send a patrol. Make it more difficult for them to get in and out—winter will trap them soon enough and by spring…well, by then they will be powerless to stop what is coming.”

  Iregh nodded and rose to depart. Inwardly he seethed. Ekzhad had gone and gotten himself killed and still the master relegated him to little more than a messenger. Keerason was usually the one to do such menial tasks…but he was apparently ‘indisposed for the foreseeable future.’

  “Iregh?” His chest froze and he struggled to breathe as he felt the brunt of the darkness his master carried.

  “Try not to be so whiney in the future. Nothing I ask you to do is beneath you, because I have asked it.”

  Iregh nodded and felt the pressure ease.

  “Now begone,” the icy voice said disinterestedly. Not wishing to anger his master further, he fled.

  * * * * *

  The ball had to be postponed, of course, to give time for Ky’ara’s dress to be finished. Ky’ara had tried suggesting that she would be fine in something borrowed from one of the other women, but Joran’s sister insisted that she needed something brand new…and extravagant. The gown was to be made with four layers of the finest fabric they had on hand. Each part had to be sewn, pinned to fit Ky’ara’s form perfectly, then pinned to the next layer and sewn again. The process required seemingly endless fittings. It was a little ridiculous, given the more pressing matters facing the organization, but Ky’ara went along with it—grudgingly. At least it wasn’t dance practice.

  “Besides, this gave me enough time to invite Hallahna’s father and some of the other important people who don’t stay here,” Calistra replied nonchalantly, watching as Ky’ara stood on a stool draped in the latest layer.

  Ky’ara stopped watching as the seamstress pinned fabric here and there, and eyed the rebel leader. “You had this planned out the whole time, didn’t you? The party is just an excuse to get all your allies together in a semi-relaxed social situation, where they won’t all be arguing or focusing on what exactly they are going to get out of the alliance. You’re making me the center of attention on purpose, so you can watch how they all interact together!”

  The seamstress roughly positioned Ky’ara’s head so it was once more facing forward; she had been struggling all morning to get the noble to stand still.

  Calistra shrugged, and smiled. “Well, that would be a reasonable explanation for all the fuss over this, wouldn’t it? Anyways, you can think of it as a sort of ‘coming out’ party, where I can present you to everyone as a member of our organization. ”

  “Please tell me you didn’t choose a ridiculously complicated dress design and make me stand here countless times just to have a ‘valid’ excuse for inviting people from the opposite side of Tirem,” Ky’ara groaned.

  “Of course not.” Calistra dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand.

  “Really?” Ky’ara replied skeptically, pinning her with a reproving look.

  “Well, not entirely,” Joran’s sister amended, “The fabric we had to work with wasn’t all that special, so I compensated for that with the design—that way you’ll still stand out. I also did it so I could have some time to get to know you a little better without you being able to run away to read that book…and believe me, the dress really is going to look phenomenal.”

  “It better,” Ky’ara grumbled good-naturedly. Inwardly she was marveling at just how devious the rebel leader was. Despite Calistra’s peculiar way of doing things, her political reasoning was sound. She had obviously noticed that Ky’ara grew more frustrated the longer she spent in the library, and this was her way of enforcing breaks. Getting to know Ky’ara better was also politically motivated—if everyone was right, she was going to be key to defeating the Destroyer and if Calistra didn’t know her well enough to manipulate her, she would be an unpredictable game piece. Maybe manipulate was too negative a word—Calistra had good intentions and a knack for making others feel valued, but every move she made had more than one purpose. The former earned her others’ loyalty; the latter made her a capable leader.

  Ky’ara suddenly thought of something. “Calistra, if I’m going to be officially introduced as part of your organization, shouldn’t I at least know what you actually call yourselves?” she asked.

  Joran’s sister blinked. Then she smiled, shaking her head in amusement. “For once that’s not something I’m just keeping a secret. The organization doesn’t have a name.”

  Ky’ara gave her a skeptical look.

  “No I’m serious!” Calistra insisted, “When it was first founded it was really just a vague remnant of the druids…a few families who were connected to the order closely enough to understand that the world was in trouble once they fell, but not involved enough at the time of the Uprising to be hunted down like the druids themselves were following the destruction of Eléirathös. They knew if they chose a name, eventually the King would hear about them and make them a target. So they just remained nameless...just a few loosely connected people who did what they could to keep the crystal and a few other druid relics safe. Eventually they just started referring to themselves as the organiza
tion. I imagine when we finally come out into the open we’ll be called ‘the rebellion’ or something similar. Many of us already refer to ourselves that way.” She shrugged, smiling.

  “What other relics—” Ky’ara started to ask.

  The door suddenly burst open and a wild eyed soldier came in, gasping for breath.

  “What happened?” Calistra was suddenly all business, her expression worried. At her signal Ky’ara stepped behind a screen and quickly changed into her normal clothes, giving the yards of fabric that were to be her dress to the now severely annoyed seamstress.

  “Milady…it’s the general’s son…they were riding, and…” His voice faltered.

  “What happened? Is he okay? Oh never mind, it’s clear that you aren’t capable of explaining the situation.” Calistra quickly became annoyed when the soldier failed to speak. “Where are they?”

  “D-downstairs in the main hall…” The soldier stepped aside as Calistra rushed passed him.

  Ky’ara followed Joran’s sister with increasing apprehension. Jeorj and Sukylar were supposed to arrive tomorrow, but apparently something had happened to one of them on the way.

  The two women hurried through the hallway, down the stairs and to the door of the main hall. The door was already open and they found a huge crowd of people blocking their path, all trying to peer into the room beyond.”

  “EVERYONE GO!” Calistra shouted, and the people turned to look back at her. With reluctance, most of them stepped aside to let her pass. She walked into the room and took one look at Jeorj. “EVERYONE OUT! I TOLD YOU ALL TO GO, NOW BE QUICK ABOUT IT!” She raised her voice and the people finally began to disperse. Ky’ara turned to leave, but Calistra pulled her back. “Obviously I didn’t mean you. I might need your help; he’s going to need healing.”

  Four soldiers were holding a large stretcher. Sukylar was standing beside it, looking worried. Ky’ara looked past him and bit her lip in worry at what she saw. Jeorj was pale and breathing in short spurts. There was a shallow gash on his forehead and blood was seeping from a wound in his side. He was staring wide-eyed at nothing, jerking and turning his head, muttering unintelligible babble. She used her healing sight for a moment, taking full stock of his wounds and hoping that this was all. It wasn’t. Five of his ribs were broken and one was dangerously close to puncturing his lung.