The Bearer of Secrets (Dark Legacy)

by Kyle Belote

“You wouldn’t know if he influenced you, would you?” Kayis prompted.

  “What are you saying? I’m incompetent?”

  “Not at all,” Kayis said hastily. “I am trying to ascertain the possibility he influenced you.”

  Daylynn bristled at his remark. Her eyes narrowed, and she spoke. “I’d notice if he tried.”

  “Please, continue,” Lagelm, the other goblin on the Council, invited.

  “Warlock Lakayre traced the essence to a small book shop. The young woman said the editions already sold. A carrier picked them up before our arrival.” She paused, sighing. Her eyes had tracked to the Consul before she spoke again. “The girl noticed my robes.”

  “What?” Capraro inquired.

  “The girl saw through our magical projection and commented on my robes. The strength she would need to break through the shroud Warlock Lakayre placed on us is unthinkable.”

  “What happened next?” Kayis pressed, herding her into the direction he wanted.

  “We were attacked. The windows blew in, the shop destroyed. The girl was unconscious until Judas revived her. We retreated, taking the girl with us. As we neared the gateway, a sheol attacked us.”

  “A sheol?” the Council asked at once. Everyone except Dathyr. The sheol, wraith-like entities, an embodied mist, half incorporeal.

  She nodded. “Judas killed it. He questioned it, torturing for information, and during the interrogation, the sheol died.”

  “How did he kill the sheol?” Kellis asked.

  “With the light from his wand.”

  “Did the sheol give up any information?” Sedrus questioned.

  “The Dark Lord will rise again, he was never truly gone, and the books were taken back to our side of the gateway.”

  “Did he say how he managed to get there?” Lagelm asked. She glanced at the goblin, his eyes locked onto hers. The two stared at each other for a brief moment before the creeping feeling of ice poured down her spine. She shivered but held his gaze. His black eyes were glossy, bottomless wells of malevolence.

  “Xilor’s apprentice,” she whispered. Conversation broke between the members, all except Kayis. He let the murmurs carry on for a few moments before he continued the line of questioning.

  “What happened next?”

  “Warlock Lakayre picked the girl up and brought her back through the gateway with us.”

  The Consul allowed himself a small smile. He peered to his right, in the direction of his supporters, knowing they would side with him. His chance to rid his family of the man who disgraced them, Kayis tainted by association.

  “Well, there you have her report. Madam Reese, please take your seat. The exiled warlock broke our laws, flaunting us with open defiance and he must be punished.”

  “I agree,” Poplu joined. “We tried to be respectful of what he did for us in the Wizard’s War, but it’s now obvious he is a danger, not only to himself and us but to that young girl he brought back.”

  Kayis nodded. “We should hunt him down and return the girl, for her benefit, of course. If he comes peacefully, we can talk options.”

  “Consul?” Kellis broke in, his long finger held aloft. “What law did Warlock Lakayre break?” Kayis ground his teeth in frustration at being second-guessed. The goblin continued. “If you are referring to our statutes about finding anyone with magical gifts on the Other Side, it states they should be brought forward. In essence, none was broken.”

  “Yes, but we decided to abandon that practice years ago because everyone died who came back!” Capraro countered.

  “A practice is not legislation,” Lagelm clarified. “We won’t be hunting down the warlock today for breaking mandates or practices.”

  “WE ARE THE LAW!” Kayis roared, whirling to face the goblin. He fought for control of his hatred and because propriety demanded his composure. When he spoke again, his voice strained, caged. “The warlock is anarchy in our midsts. He needs to be hunted down and stopped, and the girl will be returned because she is a descendant of the followers of Xilor and doesn’t belong in Ermaeyth. We shall clear her memory, and she will be returned tonight.” Kayis shot him a vehement look and continued. “He defied our wishes and is not here now. His absence is an admission of guilt.”

  “That depends on your view. From where I am sitting, he is not here because he is aware you will try to imprison him or worse,” Sedrus intoned, backing the goblin. To mollify the Consul, he added. “Believe me, I have no love for him, but even I am not so blind to acknowledge that.”

  Kayis clinched the fist resting on his leg and counted to five before he spoke again. “Madam Reese, can you please clarify what happened to the sheol?”

  “He tortured and killed it,” came Daylynn’s reluctant clarification.

  “Murdered,” Kayis clarified. Half the Council erupted in conversation.

  “Murdered a sheol? Are you mad?”

  “What was the creature doing on the Other Side? They are forbidden to move from their Ruins.”

  “How did it even get there?”

  “A sheol smuggled into the castle? Preposterous!”

  “Warlock Lakayre’s transgression is forgivable next to the violation of the sheol.”

  “Enough!” Kayis slammed his fist on the table, silencing the Council. “For too long we have been lenient where the warlock is concerned. He is an exile!”

  “And therefore not bound by our constitution,” Sedrus reminded everyone. The centaur shifted his feet. “A decision of the Council’s after the Wizard’s War.”

  “I believe you helped craft the sentencing, Consul?” Lagelm alluded.

  “Shall we call for a vote?” Kayis snapped.

  “Let’s,” Kellis agreed. “To clarify, no laws have been broken. He is an exile, and the Council requested his help to investigate the Mirror of Imation, a device of his making. So, what are we adjudicating?”

  “Warlock Lakayre is a menace and must be stopped. An exile beyond our regulation with more power than most alive,” the Consul clarified.

  “More power than any man alive,” Daylynn said, her voice soft. A haunted expression came to her face.

  “Those for hunting down the warlock?” Kayis queried. Vamor Poplu and Piero Capraro raised their hands along with the Consul. Their eyes turned to Daylynn whose lips thinned but her hand remained motionless. “Those against?” Kayis’ grating voice asked, the agitation evident on his face. The goblins, Kellis, and Lagelm raised their hands. Sedrus did as well. Again, all eyes turned to Daylynn, who kept her hand on the table. “Your vote, Madam Reese?”

  She glanced at the Consul and further down the line towards Capraro and Poplu. They shot her venomous stares. She turned her head down the other side of the bench to the other members, not wizardkind. She sighed before she spoke. “I abstain from voting. He didn’t break any laws, but I agree he can be a menace at times. Judas saved my life while on the Other Side. Twice! I would not be here to vote at all if not for him, so I abstain.”

  Kayis’ lips thinned fractionally but choked off any scathing remarks. A disquiet crept through the seven Council members as they waited for one bold enough to speak first.

  “Warlock Lakayre is of the impression we were followed,” Daylynn said at last.

  “What?” Kayis snapped. “What a ludicrous thought!”

  “Made sense at the time,” Daylynn acknowledged. “We called him because of the Mirror’s behavior. We arrived on the Other Side and were greeted by a vile essence. Someone snatched the books away before we arrived and tried to kill us by blowing up the shop. Someone with magical abilities attacked us. While escaping, a sheol delayed our return. Seems to be a strange set of coincidences.”

  “The sheol cannot leave their Ruins without Council permission,” Poplu interjected.

  “What if they don’t give a shit about our permission?” she snapped back.

  “Explain,” the Consul demanded.

  “They would no longer fear us if they had no reason to fear.”

&nb
sp; “Protection? From us? Who would be so stupid to stand against us?” Capraro reasoned.

  “Not stupid, powerful.”

  “No one can defy us!” Kayis boasted.

  “Except an exiled warlock,” Lagelm added.

  “And a Dark Lord once thought vanquished,” Daylynn finished.

  Kayis leaned forward, giving her a long look. His sneer curled out into the silence. “Don’t tell me you believe in warlock’s paranoid nonsense. You don’t really think the Dark Lord can return, do you?”

  Daylynn took a deep breath and held it, unsure of how she should answer. She never believed in Judas, not truly, but he proved himself many times over. She also realized if she answered in any manner that might sway the power of the Council from Dathyr, he would take her words as a slight. Her best course to appease the Consul was a diplomatic answer.

  “I believe, after everything I have seen, anything is possible.”

  ***

  Chapter 4 : Essence Of Transference

  Multiple books caressed with a wispy green cloud floated in silence. Some were massive, thick tomes and others were slender and frail volumes. The leather-bound texts hovered, rising and falling as if caught in an ocean’s gentle wave. The green mist coiled serpentine from the volumes to the young woman lying on the floor. Judas, mesmerized, did not feel the sudden arrival of Atz, the dwaven with vermillion armor, who blinked into existence behind him.

  “I’ve found her, she is coming,” he said in haste, without preamble.

  “Good,” Judas replied. “Tell the others we meet tonight.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  “The usual.”

  “Where?”

  “Desert of the Forsaken,” the warlock instructed. Atz nodded and faded again, leaving the elder alone with the floating tomes of knowledge and the young girl.

  He didn’t know how long it would take the Transference to work and what degree. When she rose from her slumber, would she have acquired the sudden education or would it take time for her mind to desegregate the jumble of learned material? Only time would tell.

  He carefully selected particular volumes. The warlock wanted her to know generalities of Ermaeyth and the Domain she would reside in. There were too many texts covering numerous subjects to try to cram in her mind, so he used great care. Propriety, customs and culture, their language and grammar, a brief overview of history, and immediate geography were such content he allowed, subjects of immediacy. Tales and histories of religion, people, and peculiar places such as the Temple of the Ghost Mists, the Abyss, Void-Knights, the Kran Empire, and Witchen were unnecessary to educate her and would only leave more questions than answers. She could do that on her own time.

  There was the chance, of course, he would destroy her mind in the process. A slim chance, but the burden of the decision pressed on him. Judas did not like the gamble, the conception unfavorable, but what was the alternative? With each passing moment, he wondered if the notion bothered him or the fact that it originated from the Elder Fairy. Qualms arose from failing to ascertain the truth.

  He glanced down at the girl, standing vigil at her side while his inducement worked. Her consciousness brushed his, a sign she was aware of his presence. He thought about the events leading up to this point, wondering if he made any wrong choices. Was Daylynn right? Should he have left her on the Other Side? He couldn’t be sure. He yearned to think he did everything right. He wished someone could tell him which direction to take. Judas never believed in people who claimed they saw the future, and he figured those who could wouldn’t go around saying so.

  He doubted himself, always. He used meticulous care in his selection of books, keeping out certain volumes and restricting her knowledge. Some subjects were better for him to explain than for her to acclimatize to a biased opinion. She needed to make her own decisions and he intended her to be a blank slate, free of prejudice. Each volume was selected with this forethought. In some ways, he was no better than the authors of those volumes, choosing what to convey. His choice to keep out books about the Wizard’s War might come back to haunt him, but he didn’t want to traumatize her any more than necessary. He would teach her the subject himself. She would know a little, but he’d fill in the rest. He battled with a decision to include or exclude any subject on magic and finally relented to one volume from the Plotus branch, a rudimentary tome at best.

  He cast the uncertainty aside and returned his thoughts to recent actions and the distant past, contemplating, trying to determine if he walked the right path. If not, he would try to trace the forks of his decisions back to undo whatever damage he did. The right choice: hard to decipher at the moment, to be certain of the correct path when facing decisions, yet simple in retrospect.

  He hoped she didn’t remember anything about her previous life; it would make things easier and much more complicated. Easier because she wouldn’t want to return home and would accept this way of life as the only way. Complicated because he would need to teach her everything like she was a child. Children learned quicker than the old, but she lacked that benefit. In short, a difficult task lay ahead.

  He hoped his gamble paid off, and the Essence of Transference worked. He littered this corner of the library with vast volumes of insight but even so, she wouldn’t comprehend everything, as there was so much to learn about the Realm, and of Ermaeyth. Magic, too. Some of the basic aspects secreted in the leather bindings he used. Her power radiated, raw, undefined. Careful tutelage would craft her into a prosperous wizard. She may even achieve a high rank like Grand Master Wizard if she chose that path. She had options based on power alone. He would ease her into the subject.

  He examined her again, but this time in a different light. She reminded him of her. He tried to block such thoughts and forget the pain forged in his heart for so long, but failed. He realized, after a time, Julie was about the same age she would have been. He buried the thought, the memories. He knelt and gently touched her forehead. Again he experienced her subconscious swirling beneath the spell-induced sleep.

  Another essence called to him, one not present; familiar, yet missed due to absence, akin to seeing relatives at a family reunion, half strange, half recognizable. A smile crept over his face, intuiting who reached out to him. He stood, his head turning to the direction from which the conjury called. He crossed the room to the window and gazed out over Ralloc. From this high up on the mountain and in the castle spire, shops, and other buildings looked like small lumps of brown sugar far below. He answered the essence, gently, to not give himself away to everyone. He focused his thoughts on the woman who called to him, a discreet answer.

  He sent out his response, and he distinguished a refrain in her attempt to find him. She closed down, withdrawing from him. A tremor of presage rippled through him before she appeared. All magic gave off tale-tell signs, little vibrations. If someone was powerful enough, they could detect the effects before it happened, almost like a precognitive ability. Few possessed such insight, and Judas had to focus to perceive. Even he could be taken by surprise. Whenever the conjuring came, the more alien the essence, the more noticeable.

  She manifested in the deep shadows between bookshelves, hidden by the swaddling black velvet. He stood staring at the spot, expecting her. Madam Meristal Raviils strode forward, her crimson robes with gold embroidery flapping softly at her movement. A petite woman with flaming red hair, violet eyes, and porcelain skin stepped into the light. If anyone could find a perfect woman, Judas was sure he gazed upon her now. To him, she was the epitome of beauty and elegance; he wondered how many men thought the same.

  A smile flourished on his face. “Welcome, Meristal.” They met in the middle, he bending to kiss her hand. “Always a pleasure and delight to keep your company. I’ve been without it for quite some time!”

  “Of course, it’s a pleasure to keep my company,” Meristal spoke, a fondness in her voice. Friends since before they entered the Wizard’s War, she had a way of subtle teasing, something he c
ame to expect. He embraced her; a soft kiss planted on her cheek, her hair tickling his nose. She returned the tight embrace, both holding on for moments longer than friends would. She let go but held his arms. “We haven’t spoken for quite some time, a situation changing even as we speak. I finished my tour in Mecas River City. I’m back.” She radiated happiness.

  “Welcome home, at least until they send you away again.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m retiring if they do.”

  “You missed the hearing this morning.”

  She gave an abashed smile. “I know, and I am sorry. I am betting Consul Dathyr was behind my delay with the sudden arrival of paperwork in the eleventh hour.”

  “Probably.”

  “I hear they denied your citizenship again.”

  “Yes, right before they asked for my help.”

  “Where is she?”

  “How do you know about her arrival?” Judas asked, suspicious. Somehow, Meristal was the second person aware of the arrival of the girl he brought back. She answered with her cryptic silence; he ushered her between the bookshelves towards Julie. Meristal gazed down at the girl wrapped up in Judas’ traveling cloak, a simple, but pretty girl.

  “She seems fragile, delicate, and unable to take the bump and grind of everyday life in the Realm,” she offered.

  Judas surveyed the young woman. At first appearance, the girl seemed at peace, in a deep sleep. As they neared, he noted the girl’s brow knitted. Her teeth ground together.

  Meristal’s head tilted up, surveying the books above the girls’ head, near the ceiling. A green mist coiled around several publications and snaked down towards her head.

  “She’s aware of our presence,” came Judas’ light whisper. “She is fighting to wake up.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how this is possible.”

  “Are we disturbing her?” Meristal offered.

  “Perhaps,” the warlock conceded. “She is powerful; I can feel her trying so hard to fight me.”

  “What are you doing with these books?” she queried, her eyes going back to them.