The Legacy of the Ten: Book 01 - Eyes of the Keep

by Scott D. Muller

Zedd’aki stared blankly, “You were talking about some woman you thought you heard ….”

  “Nonsense,” Ja’tar replied throwing a hand to the air, “now what were you saying?”

  Zedd’aki gave Ja’tar a strange look. Maybe his friend was still rattled from the incident. He definitely wasn’t right in his mind.

  “I was talking about Ror.”

  “Ah, please continue —”

  “I said, surely it is different than those days,” said Zedd’aki decisively.

  “It would have to be, I suppose. Still, I have no idea how this could have happened.”

  “None?” a wide-eyed Zedd’aki frowned. “You think maybe a powerful coven …?”

  Ja’tar waved him off, “Witches? Don’t be ridiculous! They don’t possess that kind of power.”

  “Well, what else, in the name of the Ten, could it be?”

  Ja’tar pondered the question for a bit trying to remember childhood stories before horror filled his eyes and his jaw dropped as he uttered, “As a child I remember—”

  “Remember what?” Zedd’aki said, prodding his friend to recall.

  Zedd’aki moved to the other chair by the fire and fell into the soft feather seat. Ja’tar had cast a clumsy healing spell over his own hands and winced as the skin healed over. He flexed his hands making fists to stretch the newly healed skin. Zedd’aki was a bit surprised that his friend had the peace of mind to accomplish much of anything given his condition.

  “Aren’t you going to clean your wounds first?”

  Ja’tar ignored his question, waving him off and continued his train of thought, raising a hand, “I remember … stories.”

  Zedd’aki, deciding to drop his question after seeing Ja’tar’s hands were healed. “How do the stories help?”

  “These were stories my father told me of the time before Ror,” Ja’tar said, knowing that Zedd’aki would understand.

  “Why do you bring this up now?” asked Zedd’aki, confused and missing the point entirely.

  “Because the more I think about it, the more certain I am that this was the old magic of the ancients, perhaps First Age, older than you or I can remember. Back in the time of —”

  Zedd’aki hushed his voice and reflexively looked around to be sure nobody else was within earshot, even though they were alone in Ja’tar’s living quarters. “Are you suggesting that it came from before the Battle of Ror, before the Cleansing, back from the time of the Ten?”

  Ja’tar shrugged, his shoulders dropped and he nodded half-heartedly as another sob escaped his lips, “Maybe even earlier.”

  Zedd’aki’s eyes narrowed as he blurted out, “It can’t be. That would mean —”

  Ja’tar hushed his friend putting a finger to his lips, and stared into his friend’s eyes, nodding his head solemnly, “I think it must be ….”

  “Nonsense! How can you even suggest …?” begged Zedd’aki in a whisper, wishing it were not true. Nevertheless, it felt true.

  He was worried now, and when he worried, he fidgeted. When he fidgeted, he played with his beard, rolling it on a finger, stroking it. It was a nervous habit.

  “Clearly we are dealing with something beyond our understanding. None of us at the Keep can brandish such power, but those that could once existed,” Ja’tar contemplated out loud.

  “But that was ages ago. Generations have passed … Ror ended those dark days.”

  “So we assume. But in those days, they had a mastery of the Arts we cannot comprehend. Their magic was different, more … pure. I cannot put into words what I mean exactly, I just can’t seem to remember. It was as if they were the magic ….”

  “But how…?” Zedd’aki begged the question.

  “I cannot say for certain, ‘how’ without doing some research, research into things the Guild of the Keep would rather forget … and keep hidden.”

  “The Guild prefers all to be hidden,” scoffed Zedd’aki.

  Ja’tar grinned eccentrically, “Indeed!”

  Zedd’aki smirked. “So they wouldn’t approve your looking into this?”

  Ja’tar answered with mild mirth, “Oh, I’m sure the bastards most certainly wouldn’t.”

  “So, you obviously will.”

  Ja’tar grunted, “I’m seriously thinking about it.”

  Zedd’aki just stared, “They’ll be angry —”

  “They’ll be more than angry ….”

  Zedd’aki raised a brow. “More than angry?” He was hesitant to even imagine what they would do if such an infraction were to occur.

  Ja’tar cast his eyes down and lowered his voice, “Mmm, I think so. You see there are forbidden tomes and tablets that I know about that have been hidden for millennia. Have you heard of the Cave of the Forbidden?”

  Zedd’aki’s eyes shot open wide, “The Cave? Everyone has heard the stories and rumors.”

  Ja’tar groaned, “I think I will have to open the Cave of the Forbidden. I believe that there we will find our answers.”

  Zedd’aki’s voice quivered, “The cave? Ja’tar, you wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” Ja’tar testily fired back.

  “It’s … it’s forbidden. You would be exiled if anyone found out. By the gods man, you’d be bound and cast out! Maybe even sent away to a realm with no magic to wither and die,” gasped Zedd’aki.

  Ja’tar leaned closer, “We need answers.”

  Zedd’aki pulled back, “But there has to be another way ….”

  “I know of no other place to begin… all of this makes little sense,” Ja’tar said, with a quizzical look on his face.

  Zedd’aki pleaded, “But the cave was sealed by the Ten after Ror.”

  Ja’tar leaned forward in his chair, “… And your point is?”

  Neither was willing to give ground. Ja’tar was positive that this was his only option and Zedd’aki was unwilling to entertain the option. So, like stubborn children they tried to stare each other down.

  “It was never to be opened, never. It’s protected by killing spells, all manner of wards,” Zedd’aki stammered for he was very afraid. “It is by no means meant to be breached.”

  “I only need to find a couple of the books, records of the war … Legend says that the War Hall of Records was near the front, not in the back where all the artifacts were stored.”

  Zedd’aki’s jaw dropped, “Ja’tar! Listen to yourself. You sound a bit touched. You cannot be seriously ….”

  Ja’tar cut him off, “Mad am I? Bah! I’m sure I could find a way in to do some quick research.”

  “No one would suspect,” said Ja’tar nonchalantly, over-confident in his abilities.

  Zedd’aki called his bluff, “Halla! Do you even know where the Cave is?”

  Ja’tar was incredulous that his friend even asked the question, “Yes, of course,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief and waving his friend off nonchalantly with his hand.

  Zedd’aki, eyes narrowed and he grew very suspicious of his friend.

  “How is it that you know of a place only mentioned in whispers and legend?”

  Ja’tar’s mouth tightened. “Zedd’aki, you forget that I am the Keeper. I know things that no one else knows.”

  Zedd’aki dropped his gaze, “Still —”

  “I passed the Rite of Passage,” answered Ja’tar flatly.

  “So, what else do you know …?”

  Ja’tar chortled, “I know that the specific area of the Keep where the entrance to the Cave is has been deserted for centuries. Why, that whole lower wing has been sealed for most of my lifetime.”

  “You’re serious!” Zedd’aki gasped. He looked at his friend and couldn’t believe what he was suggesting, even though he knew Ja’tar was not a cautious man. His recklessness had gotten him into mischief often in their youth, and at times, the consequences of his rash actions had been costly.

  “We need to know …,” he shrugged.

  “No. No. No!” the old man pleaded with the Keeper, giving his beard a good ya
nk.

  “Zedd’aki we have to. The elders were different from us. They lived magic. They practically were magic. They were the ones who enslaved the Zylliac.”

  “I don’t care,” said Zedd’aki adamantly, while stomping his foot.

  “Imagine the power that it would take to enslave the beast of magic itself. They built this palace and they controlled the realms for generations. Think of it. Think of all the magic we have lost over the years. They knew things, spells, enchantments, they created the bal’achar.”

  “The vessels of life and death exist? I thought … I thought they were myth,” Zedd’aki’s mouth fell open, his face turned white as flour. He tried to speak, but his lips just quivered. This was just too much.

  Ja’tar grinned mischievously, “They existed, Zedd’aki. They still exist.”

  “Th-th-they can suck your soul …,” was all that Zedd’aki could manage to choke out as he squirmed uncomfortably in the chair.

  Ja’tar could see his friend was agitated, but he couldn’t help but show off and quietly stated, “Yes, but they can also deposit it into another body, or into anything that lives. They were used early during the battle of Ror to allow the strongest to survive.”

  Zedd’aki cringed, “And the body they put them into? What of them?”

  Ja’tar shrugged, “Sometimes the better good must be served.”

  “Not if it’s you that gets used,” Zedd’aki grumbled bitterly under his breath.

  Ja’tar soothed his friend, “From what I’ve read, they only used volunteers ….”

  “Nonetheless,” Zedd’aki said, his lip quivering. “Ja’tar, the cave was sealed to prevent us from learning the ways of the ancients.”

  “Was it?” Ja’tar asked smugly, eyeing his friend’s reaction as he crossed his arms.

  “What?” Zedd’aki’s head shot up. “What are you implying?”

  “There it is again —” Ja’tar said.

  “There’s what again?”

  “Can’t you hear that? It’s that same bloody woman screaming again.”

  Zedd’aki paused and held still. “I don’t hear anything. Are you sure?”

  “Of course —” Ja’tar answered. “It’s like she’s next door or …”

  “Or what,” Zedd’aki probed.

  “Or like — what was I saying?”

  Zedd’aki shook his head. It was obvious to him that the whole incident with Tar’ac and To’paz had rattled him more than he let on.

  “You were talking about the cave ….”

  “Ah, yes! Was it really sealed to protect us?” Ja’tar pondered aloud, leading his friend to consider a different path.

  “I don’t understand — where are you going with this?”

  Ja’tar rationalized, “Zedd’aki, if what is in the cave is so dangerous, why did they keep it at all? Why didn’t they destroy it when they had the chance? Surely that would have been the sure and safest choice.”

  Eyebrows raised, Zedd’aki replied, “Maybe they couldn’t destroy it! Maybe they didn’t know how.”

  Ja’tar dramatically rolled his eyes, “Ha! Don’t fool yourself. Maybe they kept it for the future. I think they never intended to destroy the knowledge and items.”

  Zedd’aki’s face turned pasty white. “Are you telling me that all that was remembered of the battle spells is locked away there, and the artifacts?”

  “Indeed,” said Ja’tar smugly. “That is exactly what I believe.”

  “Why now?”

  Ja’tar pondered the question for a bit. “How can I put this delicately? I have … grown suspicious of the Guild as of late.”

  Zedd’aki’s cocked his head and his eyes got wide.

  “They seem to stifle innovation. No matter the question I ask, the answer is always no.”

  “By the Ten, man!” Zedd’aki blurted out so hard that spittle sprayed from his lips. His eyes set and his face contorted with rage. He stood up quickly, walked over to the tray by the writing desk, nervously poured himself a tall glass of wine, and practically poured it down his throat.

  “Calm yourself Zedd’aki. Listen to me.”

  Zedd’aki was beyond words, “But …b-but.”

  Ja’tar reasoned aloud, “Understand that there is much more there than just the magic and accounts of the Great War, the battles. If the spell that was cast in To’paz’s realm was from those days, there will be mention of it in the records, details on how to detect it. Maybe, if we are lucky, we’ll find a record of it in those books and figure out how to counter it. Those books are alive and are still recording.”

  Zedd’aki refilled his glass and fell back down in the chair.

  Silence filled the space between them.

  Zedd’aki’s eyes narrowed, “Alive? How so?”

  “Well, no, poor choice of words,” Ja’tar shook his head side-to-side. “Let me clarify. I don’t mean in the sense of being a breathing sentient life form. But they live on for eternity carrying out their purpose. Recording spells cast in the realms, and counters.”

  “How in the name of the Ten did they manage that?”

  “Does it matter?” Ja’tar curtly replied. “All that truly matters is that they did!”

  “It matters,” Zedd’aki stated with an uncharacteristic growl.

  “Why? Why does it matter?”

  Zedd’aki set his hands firmly on the armrests. “Because we have no idea what we are getting into. Compared to their magic, ours is child’s play. We cannot use … control what we do not understand. Worse yet, we use it incorrectly and cause a cataclysm.”

  Ja’tar defiantly blurted out, “Bah, cataclysm! We can learn …”

  Concern filled Zedd’aki’s voice as he asked the only question on his mind, “But should we? We would be dabbling in things best left to rest. Dredging up the power of those years sounds like a very bad idea to me!”

  Ja’tar’ eyes darted about reading the expression on his friend’s face. “You’re scared!”

  Zedd’aki threw up his arms. “Of course I am, and if you are not, you are as big a fool as I have ever met.”

  Ja’tar got right into his face.

  “I’m no fool, but I am not an old woman either.”

  Ja’tar was irritated. His friend had always been too reserved. As kids, he never gave his studies his all. Ja’tar remembered one of the few times he had. He had been magnificent. His spell so powerful, exact and focused, even their teachers had been in awe. Ja’tar stood up and shook a finger at his friend.

  “Bah!” Zedd’aki said, spitting on the ground.

  Ja’tar turned his back, “You have always let fear rule your life. You could have been a great wizard. Instead …”

  “Instead I’m what?” Zedd’aki yelled.

  “Doesn’t matter …,” Ja’tar said, shaking his head and trying to change the subject.

  “No! State what you were going to say. Instead, I’m what?” Zedd’aki stood quickly and firmly placing his clenched hands on his hips.

  Ja’tar got right up into Zedd’aki’s face and shouted, “Instead you never lived up to your potential. You should have been a leader. You should have mastery of which few of us could ever dream. I’ve seen your greatness. Wasted! You had the potential …”

  Zedd’aki yelled back, “Maybe I didn’t wish for that kind of power!”

  “Or maybe… you were too afraid of that kind of power,” Ja’tar mockingly whined back.

  Zedd’aki loathed admitting it, but he knew his friend was correct. He was terrified. He was afraid of the flow, losing control. He reminisced from his youth how it felt when he had let go. He had wielded an immense quantity of power those few times. He had loved the sensation of all that power, and that scared him.

  “So, where does that leave us?”

  “Well, you are still my dear friend, in spite of your crippling limitations,” joked Ja’tar weakly.

  “I will try not to be too big of a burden in your quest to be a god!” Zedd’aki shot back sarcastically.
r />   “Well then, see to it,” Ja’tar mocked ire. “I used to be a god you know ….”

  “Key words are ‘used to be’…,” said Zedd’aki, wrinkling his nose, but knowing the truth of it.

  “I chose to return,” Ja’tar countered loudly. “Chose —”

  “The Guild chose for you!” Zedd’aki reminded him.

  “True. Still — I was chosen,” Ja’tar emphasized, trying to recall those glory days.

  “Well, look at you. You are not a god now! The god’s were better looking … as I recall.”

  Ja’tar grunted. “I was younger back in the day.”

  “It must have been hard to have been called back,” said Zedd’aki compassionately.

  Ja’tar nodded blankly, “Sometimes I remember things ….”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t … that’s why you were descended.”

  “I still think of myself that way. Sometimes.”

  “Well, you are just Ja’tar now. You should try to get used to that.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Ja’tar spat back, losing his resolve.

  “Well, I may not be a god, but at least I’m smart enough not to have been sitting in a puddle of gore …,” Zedd’aki jibbed.

  Ja’tar looked down and let a small chuckle out. “I surrender.”

  He did smell bad, even after washing and changing his robe. He knew he should go downstairs and take a long bath.

  Ja’tar refocused. “But, we still need to find cause. We cannot just ignore this problem.”

  “Surely there are other ways to gain this knowledge. What about the sealed tomes in the lower library?” Zedd’aki said, calming down.

  Zedd’aki sat down. Ja’tar walked over to get himself a glass of wine.

  “The locked area is filled with useless drivel! I’ve studied them. I’m afraid that there isn’t much in them that can help us here.”

  “But opening the Cave? I don’t —”

  “You know of another way?” Ja’tar lips quivered as he interrupted, anger filled his eyes. “I don’t!”

  Zedd’aki hung his head down and muttered quietly. “No, I do not.”

  “Listen Zedd’aki, I promise you that I will only research what I need, no more. I believe that what we need will not be deep in the cave. The cave is rumored to be massive. I understand that the most dangerous of artifacts and spells are hidden deep, not in the anterior rooms. They should be less protected, agreed?”