“Are you certain?” Zedd’aki asked with his mouth agape. “I thought you said you were sure they were no longer around?”
“Don’t rub it in … I was wrong —!”
“Are you certain?”
“Fairly certain,” Ja’tar said. “I asked about the birth of his new daughter, Sheila. Furthermore, I asked how her older brother, Dra’kor, was handling it.”
“I assume that the answers were satisfactory?” said Zedd’aki, grinning from ear to ear.
“They were!” Ja’tar said, as he tore off a wedge of bread, spread on some butter and placed a large slice of sausage on top. He shoved the whole thing in his mouth and chewed.
Ja’tar swallowed. “I felt stupid. I didn’t know that Sheila was his daughter from his first marriage.”
“Well, I guess we know another piece to the puzzle,” Zedd’aki nodded. “Unfortunately, that will complicate our lives.”
Ja’tar talked with his mouth full, “That’s not all. I told them I was going to Three Rivers to see an old friend who fought with me at Ror. I said Hagra was dying.”
“And?”
“They told me I couldn’t go — Trip isn’t sanctioned. I told them I was going anyway and they threatened to replace me.”
Zedd’aki nodded his head, “Hmmm! That doesn’t sound quite right to me, but it doesn’t sound out of character for the Guild either.”
“By the way, did you know that Hagra was Shar’ran’s first wife?”
Zedd’aki’s eyes went wide and he choked on his food.
“Me neither — never saw that coming —”
Zedd’aki wiped his mouth with his sleeve, “Well, that explains a few things ….”
Ja’tar scowled at him.
“— Sorry!”
“Well, I told them I’d wait at the Gate for their representative to come and tell me themselves why I can’t grant a dying friend’s wishes. I doubt we’ll see anyone …” Ja’tar bit off a massive mouthful of cheese and stuffed chunks of bread into his already full mouth.
“I’m confused. I thought you said you were certain that the Guild exists.”
“I am.”
“Then, why are you so positive that nobody will show up?”
Ja’tar stared at his plate for a few seconds before he answered.
“I can’t say for certain. It just seemed to me that their voices lacked conviction. They may indeed exist, but I am certain that it is not the Guild of legend. I think their bark is bigger than their bite!”
“I guess we will see.”
“I guess we will. Either way — we’ll have resolution.”
“We only have to wait another day for our answer …,” said Zedd’aki anxiously.
Ja’tar frowned. “I guess. I had begun to think that the mirror I use to contact the Guild is just like the schedulers, but a bit more elaborate. For as long as I can remember, we’ve only contacted the Guild through the mirror. Who would know if a ruse began, or when.”
“You think it may have been recent?”
“Define recent. Decades? Centuries? I don’t know.”
“But it is possible?”
“Sure, and now that I think about it, we haven’t had a single visit from the Guild in these eleven-hundred years.”
Zedd’aki was surprised, “Now that you mention it. I agree. They have never come here; we have always sent people there.”
“None of them have ever come back …,” Ja’tar grumbled as he chewed on his dried sausage.
“None of them … what? Ever?” Zedd’aki said, raising his voice.
“I hadn’t really ever thought about it before, but every mage we sent to the city, stayed in the city. There’s always been some excuse for them to stay. None of them have ever come back.”
“You think they’re dead?” Zedd’aki said in a frightened voice, as the realization of what his friend said hit home.
Ja’tar nodded solemnly, “I’m afraid so. That’s what my gut tells me.”
“But if the Guild exists, where did the visitors go?” Zedd’aki lamented as he rubbed his swollen red eyes.
“I don’t know. The Guild may exist, but I suppose it is possible that Stonegate had been overrun with the enemy.”
“Wouldn’t we have heard if that had happened?”
“One would think —”
“Still, none came back?”
“I fear we’ve sent forty or more magi to their deaths?” said Ja’tar, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Inexcusable ….”
It was almost noon. Ja’tar and Zedd’aki stood in the Chamber of Light waiting for the arrival of the representative of the Guild. Ja’tar paced nervously, cracking his knuckles every couple trips across the small room.
“Will you sit down?”
Ja’tar ignored the request.
“What are you nervous about?” Zedd’aki asked. “You know they aren’t coming.
“I could be wrong,” Ja’tar snapped back before catching himself.
Zedd’aki raised a brow.
“Sorry —”
“When was the last time you were wrong?” Zedd’aki asked, shooting his friend a big grin.
Ja’tar rolled his eyes and answered sarcastically, “Well, do I get to count the last twelve-hundred years?”
Zedd’aki grew impatient. “How long do we wait? It’s already two.”
“How the hell should I know, they haven’t visited in over a thousand years …,” Ja’tar fired back. “Stop asking stupid questions!”
“I’m not the one who may have been duped for twelve-hundred years,” Zedd’aki responded flatly.
Ja’tar grunted and shot him a look, “We wait —!”
Zedd’aki started whistling an old dance tune.
Ja’tar stopped his pacing, “Do you have to be so annoying?”
Zedd’aki shrugged.
They waited for the sand to drain from the hourglass and watched the glass turn itself over as another ball slid down the multi-level rack, winding its way around into the second row of hour slots.
Zedd’aki read the clock, “It’s four hours past noon. Can we go?”
“We wait one more hour,” said Ja’tar defiantly.
“They wouldn’t wait for you —” Zedd’aki mumbled.
“I’m not the Guild!”
“No, you are the Keeper of the Havenhold.”
Ja’tar stood and stared at the Gate. The stone carvings and glyphs on the sides were dull and looked like all the other rock that the gate was made of. There was no activity, no mist, no feeling of energy from the dead artifact. Ja’tar walked into the small half dome and admired the craftsmanship of the carvings and the gilding. He ran his hand over the raised lettering and felt the magic in each symbol.
“I remember when this Gate was in constant use —” he reminisced. “We were traveling and doing good work. What the hell happened to us?”
Zedd’aki sighed, “We changed …?”
“Did we? Or did something change us?”
Zedd’aki turned to face his friend, “It doesn’t really matter now does it?”
“Suppose not,” Ja’tar said, under his breath.
“We have a choice here. We now know where we are and have an opportunity to change. Our choice is whether we accept that challenge, or not.”
“The Guild won’t be happy about it —”
“Since when have they liked anything?”
Ja’tar shrugged, and held the door open for his friend as they made their way out of the room, “I for one, am not ready to roll over and play dead.”
“Good! So what do we do next?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I think we need to contact Shar’ran for a face to face, if he’s still alive.
“You doubt he is alive?”
“Don’t know for sure, even though he answered my questions.”
“He chaired the meeting of the Guild?” Zedd’aki spat.
“Didn’t I mention that?”
“No,” Zedd’aki glowered,
“you didn’t! You just said you talked to him.”
“Does it matter?”
“Does if I’m supposed to provide you counsel ….”
“Point taken,” Ja’tar ceded, “— and we also need to talk to Dra’kor.”
“How do we do that? If we send someone, we are found out, if we go ourselves, we raise suspicion. Can’t we use the orbs?”
“Actually using the orb to single out a person and communicate with them is far advanced, I’m afraid that I’m just not qualified. If I was better at using them, I suppose we could. I’m also concerned about whatever bridged the orb killing Tar’ac.”
“I suppose you are right.”
Ja’tar gave him a sly smile, “I have an idea … but you’re not going to like it!”
Zedd’aki hated it when Ja’tar said that. It meant that he was planning something stupid and dangerous. Zedd’aki shook his head, “Tell me, so I can be angry with you.”
“I was thinking that we may be able to use Men’ak to help us.”
Ja’tar’s response was not exactly what Zedd’aki had been expecting, “How can Men’ak help us?”
Ja’tar’s voice was giddy as he explained, “He’s a deathwalker, remember?”
“And …?”
“And, we can talk to him in his dreams!” Ja’tar responded, unable to hide how thrilled he was with his own cleverness. “Remember the book? It said that Men’ak talks to the dead.”
Zedd’aki cringed. He saw where his friend was going with his plan. “By the Ten, Ja’tar! Listen to yourself. You said that you have to be dead to walk the world of the deathwalker.”
“Well, maybe we, I, don’t have to be completely dead … just dead enough,” Ja’tar suggested, waving off his friend’s concerns.
“Just dead enough? How much is just ‘dead enough?’ What the Ten is ‘dead enough?’” Zedd’aki flinched as he hoarsely screamed.
“Dead enough to cross over to the mist …”
Zedd’aki slapped his forehead, “— and just exactly how dead is that?”
Ja’tar was getting tired of this avenue of conversation and it showed in his demeanor. “I think that dead is dead, but back in the day, we used to practice reviving the dead from battle. You have a few minutes before your spirit crosses between planes and can’t come back.”
“Too dangerous,” Zedd’aki stated flatly. “There has to be another way.”
Ja’tar shrugged, “I can’t think of one and we are running out of time.”
“I don’t like it! I don’t like it one bit!” Zedd’aki griped. “We haven’t raised the dead since Ror. I don’t even remember. Hell! I don’t even recall anything of those days, nor the spells.”
“I think we should go tonight!” Ja’tar added full of confidence. “Before anyone catches us or is on to the fact that we know something is up.”
“What? Not tonight, it’s too soon.” Zedd’aki gasped as he shook his head vehemently. “We need more time to —”
“Now is good,” Ja’tar said, cutting him off.
Zedd’aki begged, “Ja’tar! Give me some time to relearn the spells. We don’t need to rush.”
“No time!” Ja’tar interrupted, “I won’t stay long. Just long enough to let them know what’s going on.”
“But … I don’t even know …” Zedd’aki pleaded.
“— You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll do the spells, you just be here to bring me to before I pass over permanently,” said Ja’tar, putting his hand on his friend’s back.
“I’m not sure about this. It just doesn’t feel right,” Zedd’aki protested weakly.
“Look. All you need to do is count three minutes and wake me by calling my name.”
“That’s it?” Zedd’aki said, not trusting that it was as easy as Ja’tar made it out to be. He had a history of oversimplifying things and being caught without a plan.
“Not entirely.”
“Ah ha!”
“Seriously. That’s the basic idea of it. You may need to shock me so that I hear you from the other side.”
“It’s not the basics that worry me; it’s the ‘what the hell happens if you end up dead’ part — that scares the crap out of me!” Zedd’aki expressively pleaded, throwing his hands up helplessly.
They reached Ja’tar’s apartment and he let them in, unlocking the door and canceling his wards. He walked straight to his table, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began writing.
…It is my will that if something happens to me while conducting this magical experiment of talking to the dead, my friend Zedd’aki is in charge until such a time as a new Keeper can be raised by the Guild. Follow his orders as you would mine - Keeper of the realms, Ja’tar
He chanted, pulled off his ring with the seal and set it on the desk. Ja’tar grabbed the lit candle, used it to melt some bright-red some wax over the scroll, and while it was still soft, pressed his seal in place.
“There! You’re covered if anything happens, ” he said smugly. “Don’t touch the ring unless you are sure I am dead, or you will be visiting Men’ak in my stead!”
“I won’t have my friend any longer …,” Zedd’aki grumbled.
“I’m going to walk over to that bed and cast a spell of death. It would be really nice to have your help after three minutes to make sure I don’t stay that way!”
“You are the most stubborn and inconsiderate …” Zedd’aki emphatically blustered setting his hands firmly on his hips.
“Are you helping or not?” Ja’tar bantered raising his chin and turning a cold shoulder.
Zedd’aki rubbed his head and paced tensely, “Arrgh! You are —” He yanked his beard hard.
“Well …?”
“Well —” Zedd’aki mocked his friend defiantly.
Ja’tar repeated himself, “Well?”
Zedd’aki crossed his arms and scowled. He was in a foul mood. Every time Ja’tar attempted one of these risky castings, he was the one who got into trouble. It always worked that way.
“I’m walking to the bed,” Ja’tar called out as he took his first melodramatic step.
“You go ahead and walk — I doubt that Men’ak is already asleep, it’s barely after six, and he’s probably having his third dinner. I’m willing to bet that he hasn’t even started on dessert yet.”
Ja’tar shot Zedd’aki a look like he was daft, “Men’ak?”
“So, he may be in bed …,” Zedd’aki corrected.
“I’m dying now!” Ja’tar said, as he snuggled the big comforter and threw it over his legs. He stuffed the down pillow under his head and tried to get comfortable..
“Feel free,” Zedd’aki answered steadfast. He wasn’t going to let Ja’tar get out of this world without a good fight.
“It’d be nice if you woke me up after three minutes …,” he said over his shoulder. “I’d hate to miss dinner!”
“Bah! I should let you die, but that would be too easy! You deserve to hear about this for another thousand years,” Zedd’aki sputtered throwing his hands up. “And if you die, I will personally call up your spirit and haunt you for decades …!”
Ja’tar smirked, laid down closing his eyes, and grinned to himself. “I’m almost dead —”
“Well, hurry up; I’m sick of listening to your banter!”
“Well,” Ja’tar harrumphed, “here I go …”
“Go already — I grow tired of hearing your voice.”
Ja’tar closed his eyes and began to chant. His body began to emit a slight blue aura. His breathing slowed and after a short time, his skin turned chalky white, his lips blue, his heart stopped and his body went limp.
Zedd’aki stared at his friend’s lifeless body and put his head to Ja’tar’s chest and listened. He turned a bit pale and felt his stomach churn.
He started nervously counting.
In my Dreams
Men’ak was deep asleep when the mist gathered for a second time. He had thought that he was done for the night. That had been how it us
ually worked. Several shadowed forms walked out of the swirling cloud and moved toward him, but one shoved the others out of the way and ran to meet him. He recognized him almost immediately.
Men’ak’s jaw dropped, “Ja’tar?”
“I don’t have much time,” Ja’tar panted. “In a couple minutes Zedd’aki has to revive me. You need to listen.”
Men’ak swallowed hard and nodded.
“You need to tell Dra’kor that he was right. The Keep is under some spell.”
“By the gods!”
“Dark forces are at work. Tell him his notes raised our suspicions and although we don’t remember much of those days, we have managed to piece together enough to know that perhaps the Guild is no longer the same as it was eleven-hundred years ago.”
“The Guild is gone?”
“Maybe not, but it’s not right!”
“I can’t believe it —” Men’ak said, shaking his head.
“We need more information from you two on the magic, Shar’ran, Hagra, and the realms. Let them know we are trapped. Someone may be watching us, so our options are limited until we figure out what is going on.”
“How did you puzzle all this out?” Men’ak stammered.
“Dra’kor’s letters. I don’t remember Hagra, Zedd’aki does. That led us to start searching the achieves.”
“That’s really something!”
“Neither of us had ever heard the term spellcaster or deathwalker before. The Guild wasn’t as simple; we derived a ruse where Sheila is Shar’ran’s newly born baby daughter and Dra’kor, his elder son. The answers were mostly correct, he knew Sheila wasn’t his youngest and didn’t recognize the name Dra’kor. However, they never showed up to chastise me when I told them I was going to visit Three Rivers because Hagra was dying. The rest was something we happened upon, the treaty at the end of Ror. We thought the Ten had died before, but they hadn’t and their signature on the document prove it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“No time to explain, but you have to let Dra’kor know that we are trying to figure things out on this side.”
The Legacy of the Ten: Book 01 - Eyes of the Keep Page 59
