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

by Scott D. Muller

  Later that evening, Ja’tar prepared for the rites. He spotted Tar’ac’s journal on his desk and thought about the last entry. Just as a precaution, he strapped on his blade and cast several layers of wards, counterattacks and protections before he left his room and journeyed to the entrance to the Keep. He spotted Zedd’aki ready to join the ceremony.

  “Zedd’aki, can you do me a favor and wear a sword tonight?”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I have a feeling — something Tar’ac said …”

  “If it will make you feel better, sure!’

  Ja’tar grinned weakly. “Thanks.”

  He watched Zedd’aki head off to gather his sword and waited for him to disappear around the corner before he turned and reached for the door.

  He and Rua’tor gathered in the center courtyard of the Keep and quickly walked the short trail down to the ancient giant oak tree in their ceremonial robes.

  Rua’tor immediately noticed the protections. “You really think we need those,”

  Ja’tar nodded, ending the conversation.

  They called forth the wood sprites and the nymphs and watched as they danced hand in hand around the tree and sang the Song of Life. Ja’tar chanted in song, reciting the poems and magical phrases as Rua’tor danced the intricate dance patterns.

  Rua’tor filled the cut crystal Goblet of Bryn with wine, herbs and purple verve crystals from the deep limestone caves of Sparta, which he had gathered the previous week. He circled the tree while singing and dancing. The goblet glowed and frothed as he danced. Rua’tor was bathed in sweat from the exertion of the quick tempo of the song and the last verse came out choppy as the overweight man puffed, unable to pull in enough air. He finished by pouring the liquid at the base of the tree as he spun and circled its circumference.

  The tree was silent, but as the night wore on, the tree softly moaned and began to sing, wakening from its winter slumber. Grass and flowers sprouted from the base and buds appeared on its branches as they swayed in time with the music.

  Druid spirits visited and their blue glowing forms shimmered as they swayed to the music, forming an outer circle around the entire celebration. Near the center, the smaller, naked nymphs danced the spring rites and fertility dances, pumping and gyrating their hips as sweat covered their intertwined bodies. The wood sprites glowed softly and sang in ancient Krill as they caressed the tree. The stars twinkled above and even the wind spirits paid homage to the changing season by blowing a soft warm breeze over its branches.

  As the night wore on, the magi of the Keep came, one by one, stripped their robes and danced in private, each giving thanks for another year. They drank large mugs of ceremonial spiced wine that Rua’tor had prepared in advance and had stored in a waist-high wood cask near the tree.

  Hidden in the trees, just out of sight, a demon horde stood waiting with their weapons drawn, the small goolog clan paced nervously at their side. They watched as the ceremony unfolded.

  “Do we attack?” a small demon asked the tall horned leader.

  The leader frowned, “They have wards! The surprise would be lost. They must suspect …”

  “What do we do?”

  “We wait.”

  Two small catomen slithered up to the leader and purred. The muscular cat like beasts demanded treats from their master for scouting the magi gathering without being detected. The smaller demon stooped down and purred back, handing them scraps of raw meat, which they gulped down ravenously. The cats finished, licked their paws clean, growled, showing their long fangs and the single deep-yellow eye centered on their forehead. They turned and left the small clearing.

  “The catomen say that only two have weapons!” the smaller demon relayed.

  “That we can see …,” the leader said forcefully. “Our plan required surprise. We leave, now!”

  “The Master will be disappointed,” the smaller demon said quietly.

  “Perhaps!” the larger replied. “Perhaps — now go!”

  The group of twenty slid back into the brush, never noticed by the dancing magi.

  At the stroke of midnight, all dancing and singing stopped as all gathered to watch the great oak. They scanned the branches and searched. The tree quaked and a single green leaf came forth, signifying the start of spring.

  A nymph spotted the leaf and pointed excitedly, singing out in broken elven so that everyone could understand. A loud roar of laughter erupted and the dancing continued into the wee hours of the morning as the wine flowed and inhibitions were let loose.

  Ja’tar yawned deeply as he sleepily walked back toward the Keep. He turned around just before he entered the wide courtyard door to see Rua’tor and Qu’entza still drunkenly dancing with the nymphs and singing loudly off-key. A smile erupted from his face and he was glad that he had found the energy for the rite.

  Ja’tar wearily dragged himself back to his room and fell straight to sleep; his dreams were peaceful for once, filled with the impish smiles of the faeries and nymphs.

  The next two days passed quickly as the training of the three mages, Dra’kor, Grit and Men’ak consumed nearly all the time available. Their training should have taken years, but they didn’t have years. Ja’tar was trying to just give them enough power to be able to survive if they were to happen upon a demon clan.

  Ja’tar stared out over the courtyard from his quarters high above. He prayed that they had enough intelligence to do the right thing; turn and run should they encounter a force of substantial size, or of substantial talent.

  It was very late the following night when Ja’tar and Zedd’aki stood in front of the metal door. Ja’tar took the small chrome marble, an ancient tel’faz, from his pocket and grabbed his friend’s hand.

  “No matter what you do, do not let go of my hand until I tell you so.”

  A surprised Zedd’aki watched as the liquid metal crept up his friend’s arm and slowly crossed from Ja’tar’s hand to his. He was amazed that he didn’t feel anything, just cold. As soon as the transformation was complete, the pair walked through the door and when on the other side, Ja’tar put the marble away after checking that they had completely cleared the door.

  The two stood in front of the impressive wooden doors for a couple of minutes before Ja’tar threw his first spell. As expected, the druid appeared. They alternated attempts and after several spells, they rested.

  “I see what you mean,” a very tired and perturbed Zedd’aki sighed. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, “Maybe a chant?”

  “We could try that, I’ve tried about everything else. Any particular chant you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking of trying the ‘Song of Trees.’ You know, it’s that song the old druids used to teach us kids.”

  Ja’tar trying to recall the song to which his friend referred. “You mean the one that makes the trees dance and move?”

  “That’s the one I had in mind, you have another?”

  “No, give me a little hint on how it went,” said Ja’tar, slightly embarrassed at his forgetfulness.

  “You know, na..na.nana..naaaaa.na.na …,” Zedd’aki hummed a few bars more or less in tune.

  “Ah, yes! I remember it now. At least there weren’t a lot of words to remember. Let’s give it a go,” Ja’tar said, clearing his throat. He wasn’t much of a singer.

  The two began to sing and soon the druid chimed in. The doors pulsed and flowed like liquid, but when the song was over, the druid drawled as usual, “Leave. That is not the song.”

  Zedd’aki broke into a huge smile and could barely contain his excitement. Ja’tar saw his smile and seemed confused by his reaction.

  Ja’tar’s face showed he was perplexed. “What?”

  “It’s a song. The druid said that it was not that song. We are looking for a song!”

  Ja’tar slapped his friend on the back. “I didn’t even catch that. Good work, but which song?”

  “I suppose it doesn’t have to be a druid song. Didn’t you use to sing elv
en songs as a kid?”

  Ja’tar shrugged, “Suppose I did — most of them were ceremony songs. Solstice celebration, harvest — you know.”

  Zedd’aki was hopeful. “You think any of those will work?”

  After a bit of reflection, Ja’tar uttered, “Probably not, most of them brought faeries or such … made trees bloom or grow.”

  “Didn’t your father teach you any songs?”

  “Plenty, we sang all the time, but none of those seem to be suitable here,” Ja’tar said in resignation.

  Zedd’aki placed his hands on his hips. “My guess is you’re the only one who knows the right song. That would be my guess.”

  Ja’tar threw his hands up as he paced. “But what? I don’t remember any magic song of power or such …”

  “Maybe we are approaching this all wrong. Maybe we aren’t looking for a spell or song of power.”

  Ja’tar’s curiosity was piqued. “What are you getting at?”

  Zedd’aki continued with his train of thought. “What if we are looking for some sort of recognition or authority play?”

  “I see where you are going, but I’m still not clearly seeing a connection between what I know and this problem.”

  Zedd’aki reasoned the puzzle out loud. “It would have to be something your father taught you. Agreed?”

  “Agreed, I suppose.”

  “I’m sure he would have made sure you knew it inside and out, because if you forgot, all of this would be lost for all time. He would have wanted you to pass it on to your kin.”

  Ja’tar was drawing a blank, “I can’t for the life of me remember any song that Da really pressured me to learn.”

  Zedd’aki’s eyes lit up. “By the Ten! What was that song you used to sing over and over again when we were kids? It was kind of a nonsense song. You sang it all the time when we played. It was very irritating.”

  “I don’t remember those songs. They were just nursery rhymes,” said Ja’tar, as he smiled at the memory of days past. “Do you remember the song?”

  “No,” Zedd’aki laughed. “This was different, it was your song! The rest of us were never taught it. It was just between you and you Da. You said your grandpapa had taught it to your dad and your dad to you.”

  Ja’tar was truly frustrated because he couldn’t recall anything of the sort. “I could use a little help here …”

  “Well, your father taught it to you, that much I remember. The song didn’t seem to do anything, no magic. You knew it irritated us when you sung it so I ignored it. All of us ignored it!”

  “That bad huh?” Ja’tar mumbled apologetically.

  “Bad!” Zedd’aki nodded. “What I remember is this small part of the verse that went a little like …‘Donna mea Donna rae, isha kei …something, something …’”

  Ja’tar snapped his fingers, “I know that … I know the song you mean. My father taught me that song, made me remember it word for word. We used to sing it every time we went for a walk. He always told me it was a very special song from the druids and elves. He quizzed me on it for years. By the Ten, you don’t think?”

  Zedd’aki shrugged, “Maybe it could be that simple. Give it a try, it can’t really hurt.”

  Ja’tar’s head drooped as he shook it. “Honestly, I can’t recall any of it —”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  Ja’tar shrugged, “It’s been a long time —”

  “You have to try ….”

  “I remember parts of it, words here and there, but other sections are just blank.”

  “Well, give it a try …,” an impatient Zedd’aki pressured.

  “I suppose I could try the first verse. I seem to recall most of that at least …”

  Zedd’aki smiled at his friend. He could see the frustration in his eyes. It wasn’t like Ja’tar to not be able to remember things, especially spells, chants and songs. Zedd’aki thought that it must be the stress. He hadn’t seen his friend like this in a very long time.

  Ja’tar began to sing the first verse. His voice cracked and he couldn’t seem to find the key, but to his surprise, the druid began to sing a counter verse and harmony just as his father did when they practiced together.

  The memories of sitting in the cave and singing the song with his father made his eyes tear. In the blink of an eye, he was young again, sitting on his Da’s lap. He could vividly remember his father’s smile and his flowing white beard. A rotund man, his tummy shook when he laughed and his voice was always full of life. His eyes sparkled through the thin small glasses that always sat way too far down his nose.

  Before he realized it, the song was done, Zedd’aki was patting his back and the druid was smiling.

  “Welcome little Ja’tar. It has been a long time.”

  “I thought you didn’t remember the song?” a very impressed Zedd’aki laughed.

  “Wha …?” Ja’tar had a blank look on his face. “I-I-I don’t even remember singing the whole song.”

  “By the Ten, You sang for well over five minutes …”

  No one was more surprised than Ja’tar was.

  “Once I started singing, all my memories of my father came rushing back. It was as if I was twelve again. All I remember is my father sitting next to me, singing with me.”

  They were so busy talking neither noticed that the druid had melted into the door and a set of doorknobs had appeared from nowhere. Zedd’aki was the first to notice, pointing at the door.

  “Handles!” he exclaimed excitedly.

  Ja’tar stopped talking mid-sentence and stared his mouth agape. “Well, I’ll be damned! You were right. It was the song, of all the … I never would have —”

  Zedd’aki motioned for Ja’tar to do the honors and stepped to the door. Ja’tar grabbed the oversized knobs and gave a pull. The doors gave way with a puff of dust and slowly opened revealing a rather small and surprisingly empty room. The air was musty, but definitely breathable. The two wizards tentatively entered, lit the lamps and looked around. Nothing much to see here, the room had a couple doors, a few bulky wood cabinets and a tall filled bookshelf.

  A disappointed Zedd’aki shook his head side-to-side. “Not what I — I just thought it would be … bigger, that there would be more items. From all of the stories — I just expected more!”

  Seeing the expression on his friends face, Ja’tar brightly spoke up, “If I remember right, this is just the anterior chamber, there should be hundreds of chambers farther back in the cave. Those are the areas guarded by those nasty spells you keep reminding me about.”

  Zedd’aki was standing hunched over by the impressive bookshelf and was gawking. “By the gods man, have you seen the titles in this case?”

  Ja’tar walked over and randomly grabbed a title. He began reading aloud from the middle of the book. “In the fifth century of the battle of Ror the dark mage Zula, having suffered a blistering defeat at the Cliffs of Rootaulk sequestered the demons of the third plane and made a blood pact with …”

  He raised his brow before he closed the book and put it back on the shelf. “Looks like the entire history of Ror is right in front of us. That could come in very handy.”

  Zedd’aki watched his friend lovingly return the book to the case.

  “So, what exactly are we looking for?” Zedd’aki asked, caressing his hands over the finely bound carved leather volumes.

  Ja’tar scratched his head, and twirled his beard. “Well, I’m not exactly sure, but what we need is a book that talks about the demons and battle spells, who did them, when and if any counters exist.”

  Zedd’aki rolled his eyes, “Not asking for much are you?”

  Ja’tar cracked a big smile and just nodded as he continued to check the titles on the books in the case. Having searched through the anterior room, they were ready to move on, although Zedd’aki was still marveling at the fine jewels and silver work in the display case. He thought he recognized the pieces, but couldn’t recollect from where.

  He didn’t even
look up when he asked, “Which door?”

  Ja’tar rubbed his beard nervously. “I seem to remember that the door on the left leads to the library.”

  He casually walked over to the door and reached for the knob. A huge lightning bolt shot from the knob to his hand, throwing him backwards. The smell of charred flesh immediately filled the air. The loud crack deafened their ears. For a while they could hear nothing.

  Zedd’aki rushed over to his injured friend clutching at a charred and smoldering stump that used to be a hand.

  “The gods help us!” he shouted as panic set in.

  Ja’tar’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor. He rolled to his back and looked up, eyes glazed over. The room whirled, and blurred. He was going into shock.

  Zedd’aki held his friend and immediately began chanting the songs of healing. He worked quickly, for the sooner he restored his friend the less lasting damage there would be. He was surprised at how quickly his battle training from over a thousand years ago came flooding back.

  Soon, Ja’tar was chanting too, but he was chanting to control the pain. His eyes were filled with tears and his mouth was contorted by the raw nerves throbbing from his smoldering stump. His eyes were clenched shut in agony. He felt every spell — he felt his bones growing, felt his fingers coming back, felt the muscle, skin and tendons forming. In a brief minute or two, his hand was back to normal but oh so very sensitive to the touch.

  “That was careless,” Ja’tar shouted, stating the obvious.

  “You think?” Zedd’aki replied, his loud voice riddled with sarcasm. “Imagine if you had been here alone.”

  Ja’tar took the deserved criticism and gently rubbed his newly formed hand. “Well, at least we know to proceed with caution from here out.”

  Zedd’aki’s hearing was returning to normal and he realized they had been shouting at each other. He toned down his response as he chastised his friend, “I told you so. You’re gonna end up dead.”

  “— Enough!” a defiant Ja’tar loudly growled back. “We have issues to address. We can’t afford this unproductive banter.”