The Bearer of Secrets (Dark Legacy)

by Kyle Belote

  “What is this place?”

  “It is the Melodic Mountains. There is an enchantment upon these lands, causing people to turn back.”

  “Who causes this?”

  The ability to compel people is a good enough reason to stay, to learn the secret.

  “The fairies maintain the enchantment with our presence, but we did not place it,” Ava declared.

  “Who else lives here besides the fairies and Fife Doole?” Julie shot her a sidelong glance.

  “No one; and few mortals have set foot here, including Warlock Lakayre. Oh, and Meristal! Perhaps, someday, I will share the story.”

  “Meristal was here before?” Surprise rippled through the mage.

  “Yes, long ago.”

  Julie shrugged. “We won’t get any closer by standing here. Let’s go.”

  With Ava leading, Julie followed her up a rutted path snaking back and forth between towering cypress. The incline and treacherous footing compelled Julie to save her breath as her muscles ached and lungs burned, sweat poured down her spine. Several times, Julie checked her footing, almost falling. The mountain air smelled of rain and damp decay, a thin humidity clung about them. With a slow pace and mind numbing exertion, an eternity could have passed. She was surprised and grateful when she reached a plateau, obscured by thin mist, trees, and the bottom wisps of cloud.

  “Welcome to Fife’s, mistress,” said Ava.

  Eyes darted around, noting the empty clearing hedged by trees. A brook bubbled in the distance. A well-worn path led away, further into the dense trees.

  “Well, where is it?” demanded Julie, her composure slipping. A cold fury swept over her. Had she wasted her time to come all this way for nothing?

  You fool, the voice inside her sneered.

  The anger grudgingly subsided as she waited for a more logical explanation.

  “There are many potent enchantments placed here,” Ava promised.

  “Potent enchantments, huh?” the mage muttered. Julie’s eyes locked on the little creature hovering near; a flicker stole across the other’s face, a recognition that Julie was not, in fact, talking to her.

  A swelling rose inside Julie, the possibility of learning the powerful mystery to what kept this place hidden for thousands of years within her grasp, tantalizingly close. An additional task, but one she would undertake. The mage noted the book remained silent which bothered her. She expected more from the elusive cognisance.

  “Mistress,” Ava broke in.

  Emotions in check, Julie turned to look at her. “Yes, what is it, Ava?”

  “I have done my duty and brought you, as you asked, and kept you from harm to the best of my abilities. Now that my task is complete, I must return to my home. Should you need me, call my name and I will answer.”

  “I understand,” Julie stated, being partially truthful. At this point, she was too angry to care.

  It was all a waste! The only good thing to come from her entire journey happened when she met Lily, that alone made the trip worth the effort, but she expected more.

  “Thank you for helping me, Ava. I shall call upon you again,” she said hurriedly. The little creature agitated her; finding nothing of worth flustered her, and the fairy’s words only compounded her ire.

  “Thank you, Mistress, most kind of you. It was an honor to serve you.” The fairy vanished, leaving Julie alone once again.

  Finally, the little brat is gone, she sighed.

  She liked Ava, but there was something about her personality that riled her nerves, most likely the child-like nature, or perhaps just her voice. Ava, best if taken in small, moderate dosages, may come in handy in the future.

  Best not to chase her off.

  Whispers tickled Julie’s ears the moment the fairy faded, and she sought their origin. For a moment, she floundered until she recalled the familiarity. In haste, she threw her pack off her back and opened the flap, digging for the ever-silent book. Once free, the whispers became clear, the book calling her name, glowing, light escaping the closed pages.

  “Your name, speak it. The Place of Origins opens for the Bearer of Secrets alone.”

  “Julie.” she declared in haste, excited.

  Nothing happened.

  “Your true name is not the one you recognize, but the name your parents gave you.”

  “How do you know so much? And how in the Underworld am I to realize a name I’ve never heard?”

  “We only impart what we must for your guidance. Speak your name, free of emotion, untainted by ambition, and what is locked will open.” The book went silent. The name tumbled in her head. In her hand, the book trembled, a soothing peace resonated in her. There was power here, waiting to be opened, waiting for her to claim. But the book’s warning cautioned her zeal. She sealed her feelings away. It would never be hers if she didn’t unlock the Place of Origins.

  Closing her eyes, Julie cleared her mind and let the aura wash over her. Only the presence of the ancient aura suffused her head. Garbled fragments, flashes of voices echoed through her head.

  Vague images came to her, blurred impressions. She could not distinguish the man clearly, like water had filled her eyes. His face loomed near, young.

  “She is beautiful,” she heard a man’s voice say. “Like her mother, beauty frozen in a timeless moment.”

  “What should we call her?” her mother’s voice asked, weary and happy. “Hope?”

  “No, she’s an angel.”

  “Look at her eyes; they twinkle like stars.”

  “I am fond of a name in the druid language: Starriace. It means ‘daughter of the sky.’”

  “Starriace? I like that name.”

  The image faded, and darkness smothered her. She sensed someone, a woman, familiar, but not her mother. Her eyes still blurred, but she could detect a chin and lips.

  “Hello, little one,” her voice said, sounding like thousands of voices speaking in unison, obscuring her true voice. Her words were warm, affectionate, but distant. “I am sorry that I am the one to take from you the life you would have, but no one will remember your beginning. It is safer this way, for you to fade from time. I have witnessed, and that is enough, but I cannot see your end, no end knows you.” She paused, drawing near. A press of warm lips against Julie’s head, the memory so strong she felt it in the present. “Welcome, Starriace, daughter of the sky.”

  “Starriace?” she breathed, uncertain.

  Her eyes opened, the air shimmering before her, revealing Fife Doole’s old cottage. Unscathed, undamaged, untouched for Ages, protected by his wards. The front door and windows remained shut, no light illuminating the interior. The small, rickety chimney remained quiet, free of smoke. Brimming with hubris, Julie approached the door.

  The allure of influential knowledge laying inside hastened her step. Soon, they would be in her grasp. Her mind raced, trying to imagine what she would find, what form the enigmas would take. Texts and scrolls? An amulet? Julie could almost taste them, touch them.

  Power! I will never be helpless again!

  An aura resonated from within the walls of the hut. Julie knew the journey she would embark on would shape the future, hers, and perhaps others. In the presence of the old hut, Rusem and Judas’ teachings dithered. Her time had come.

  Opening the door, she stepped through and crept slowly around the tiny hut.

  From the cluttered interior to how low the table and shelves sat, Fife Doole was indeed of small stature. Though cramped, everything was meticulously kept, a pretentiously tidy individual and a perfectionist. She found the quality attractive, order and structure. Though speculative, Julie surmised Fife, at the end of his life, was without a companion. The cozy and homey house lacked the touch of a woman.

  With cautious care, she tested the small stool by the workbench, unsure if it would hold her weight. Papers and books covered the desk, and she methodically poured through them, hoping for discovery. A project caught her eye, and she judged it to be from his later years, the writi
ng large, not as cramped or sharp as previous works she leafed through. Scrolls lay to the side of the desk, a neat stack with all wax seals facing the same direction. A few loitered behind the stack, unsealed.

  A hesitant pause rippled through her; a dreaded sense of invasion and violation infected her. Fife was long gone, but his works and artifacts remained. A sense of wrongness at rifling through his possessions made her waver. The ludicrous moment passed, and she snatched up the first unsealed scroll. She unrolled the parchment carefully, the leaf crinkling, and the scrawled title filled the top: Time Displacement. Julie didn’t understand what she read, but pieces stuck out, fragments of words like the false timeline or time reversal. Time, to her, always seemed to be a continuous entity, flowing forward. The possibility of time being false or go in reverse never crossed her mind. Thinking about such things provoked her to return to the book she received in the swamps. She placed it on the table, waiting.

  “We have returned and all within will be revealed to the Bearer.”

  A flash of light shot out inside the hut, strong enough to make the walls tremble. She blinked her eyes, chasing the spots away. When she could see again, the halfling stood before her. He was not a ghost, but not quite a solid state, almost transparent before solidifying.

  Once he did, Julie crashed to the floor, her back slamming against the ground, driving the air from her lungs. Her body burned like liquid fire simmering beneath her skin. The pain in her head so strong she thought her skull cleaved in two. Magelust scalded her insides. Her heart labored under the sway, the pleasure so intense it registered as pain. Breath came sharp, sporadic, painful, like a hot knife sliding in between her ribs with each inhale. Pores opened up, sweat drenching her body like she submerged in a hot bath without discarding her articles. A fierce itch tickled her skin, and she tried to claw the feeling away.

  The lust drowned her, rebuffing against her like squalls in a storm. She wanted free of the restrictive cocoon. Her hands flung her robes, ripping them open, exposing her breasts, trying to shake out as quickly as possible.

  Fife held out his hand, his fingers splayed. “Stop!” the tiny creature commanded. A wave of energy slammed into Julie, stopping the lust. Her head hung in embarrassment; catching herself exposed, she hastily closed her robes.

  “What is happening to me?” she cried, tears of pain and humility streaking down her face. The pleasure had stopped, the agony fading, but the memory, as real and vivid as Mr. Pleasure, lingered.

  “That is the magelust; has no one told you how to control it?” Julie didn’t trust herself to speak, so she shook her head. “Each being is different; I shall adjust my dampening shield to compensate for your inabilities, yes? In time, you will learn to control your own; it is not something that can be taught, but learned from within, you understand?” Julie nodded, drying her eyes.

  “Introductions are in order, is that not so, Starriace?” squeaked the elder. He bowed his head at the neck. “I am Fife Doole.” The halfling was bald on top with shaggy silver hair circling the sides and back. His bushy mustache grew out the sides of his face and merged with his shaggy beard of the same color, the latter growing past his waistband. Fierce, dark green eyes scrutinized her.

  Holding her robes closed, tucking them behind her sash, she found her voice. “What are you?”

  “I am a halfling, can you not tell? I was a Grand Maghai of the Stratu’Geim Domain, and I am the last survivor of the Great Wizards Council. I lived and taught many prominent wizards throughout time, including your father.”

  “You knew my father?” a breathless Julie insisted.

  “Oh yes, Starriace.” He had caught himself before he said more than he wished and bowed, touching his shaggy beard and looked at the floor again.

  “What is that supposed to mean? Your body language?” she inquired, a little more harshly than she intended.

  “Starriace, everything depends greatly on how you approach them, do you understand? Take Simon Poplu, for instance–the second-to-last student I taught–considerable promise with a perceptive mind, but pride forever haunted his bloodline. A curse comes with too much, is that not so?” Julie shrugged. “Some would say I am a bastard for not telling him his problem but a fault of mine? I think not! I helped him by not telling him. No doubt the lesson is learned by now, one taught only by failing. If I had told him of his arrogance, he would detest and resist my assistance, wouldn’t he? So, just to spite me, he would make sure he never failed and thus never learning his lesson. So, I hope he fell on his ass, don’t you agree?”

  “Please don’t call me by that name. And what does Simon Poplu have to do with me?”

  “I am helping you by not telling you, haven’t you been listening? What good are you to me if you can not heed my words?”

  Resentment flared, but she bit down on any retort. She played back the last few moments. Fife spoke oddly, alien enough to recognize the Myshku language may not be his primary language, or even second or third. There was no way to tell without asking and doing so might give offense. Instead, she changed the subject, recalling his short tale. “And what curse do you speak of?”

  “His bloodline is rife with pride. I once warned him when he first came to me. Unchecked would be his downfall. To my dismay, I must say, every male of his line has died young.”

  Julie nodded, unsure how to respond at this point. What could she say to that?

  “They say,” he began again before the silence stretched between them, “the greatest wizards die young, but the wisest live longest. So what is better, to be great or to be wise?” He let the question hang as if waiting for an answer. When none came, he continued. “Well, Starriace, I have waited long for you to come to me and begin your training. I must say, you are much older than I thought you would be. But we have now met, have we not? And you are a lot less educated than I hoped. But you are here, and that’s all that matters now, yes?”

  “Well, before we get started and jump to any quick conclusions and decisions, my name is Julie, not Starriace, so stop calling me by that name.”

  “Child, do you know who gave you the name?” He waited for her to answer but she merely just shook her head. “Your mother named you after your father’s wishes.”

  Julie tried hard to keep tears from her eyes. She did not know where they were coming from; all that mattered was keeping them from forming in front of the little, old man.

  “Where are my parents? Are they dead?”

  “No, Starriace, they are very much alive. Though many speculated your demise, your body was never produced. Your place among the inhabitants of the Other Side was kept secret for your protection.”

  An unbidden thought came to her, and she gave it voice. “You speak of secrets, and it might be foolish to ask, but I must: is Judas’s daughter alive?”

  Why do you care anymore?

  “Who told you about her?” the tiny man asked.

  “The book.” It seemed an Age ago that Judas had given to her.

  “Really? Interesting…and cruel.”

  “Well?” she badgered, an edge in her voice. “Is she?”

  “She is … dead, in a manner of speaking.”

  “In a manner of speaking …?”

  “Worry not, but yes, she is. However, it is possible to awaken her,” he said. His gaze dropped to his beard again, and he rolled the hair between his fingers. “Yes, it is possible to bring her back.”

  “How?”

  “Best not to think too far ahead, young one, you will hurt yourself. It is deep magic you are exploring, foolish for a neophyte.”

  “But I thought people who are dead can’t come back to life?”

  To this, Fife Doole said nothing. The motors in her brain reeled from words spoken and left unsaid.

  Raising the dead is possible?

  Hope flared in her chest. She could do this for Judas’s daughter, as well as for Meristal’s child. But then another realization came to her. She wished Judas’ daughter still lived, that she wa
s his daughter, but Fife’s revelation dashed those wayward dreams. With the truth out, he quashed her aspiration. An ache anguished in her heart, but the cold voice reminded her of the atrocities she endured and the man who let it happen. The emotions came back to haunt her, the binding the book placed on her released.

  He’s not a bad man, just incautious.

  “Put away your emotions,” Fife instructed briskly. “They will do you no good for what is to come. You are here to train, not cry, is that not so?”

  “I want to learn more about my parents. I want to see them.”

  “No,” Fife said sternly. His face formed an unpleasant frown for a moment and then softened, as did his voice. “You will see them soon enough, child, when the time is right. But more important things take precedence over a reunion with your parents, or have you forgotten the carnage you saw in your Shadowcasting?”

  “How did you–?”

  “I know many things, or did you think you and Harold were the only Shadowcasters?” He chuckled to himself. “Would you like to visit your parents?” Fife asked her. She nodded. “Then study, train in earnest, because the dead have no eyes for the living, yes?”

  Crestfallen and slightly perturbed, she watched Fife Doole waddled around the table and helped himself to a stool opposite Julie. He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Clear your mind of everything, Starriace. The only thing that matters now is your acceptance of who you are, what you are, and what you are here to do. Above all, your training is most important. I will train you in basic skills and arts, but you must choose your path based on what aptitudes you wish to hone and become one with. It’s the power of the mind. Not many understand. Most place faith in their incantations. Fools they are, is that not so? Too easy to use and easily defended, yes? I will teach you the hard way, but you will never perceive how hard it is because you have nothing to compare it to.

  “Judas started you on the path to unlocking your mind; I shall finish it. But opening your soul? Only you can do that. Tomorrow we start.”

  ***

  Chapter 57 : Julie And Fife