The Third Sign

by Scott D. Muller

  “When?” Ja’tar asked.

  “Back when we were kids. I think it was when we were studying the fourth levels ...”

  Ja’tar shrugged. He wondered how Zedd’aki could remember back that far. Then it dawned on him, he had changed the spell from never remember to never forget. It didn’t affect him because Zedd’aki had already untangled the spell. He wondered if Zedd’aki remembered every little thing he had ever done wrong. That would be annoying.

  “So what do we do with the box once the orb is inside?” Ja’tar queried his friend.

  “We put it someplace where no one will ever find it, or destroy it. Destroying it would be better, but is slightly problematic,” Zedd’aki replied, as he chewed on a sausage.

  “Problematic? How exactly?” Ja’tar asked.

  “Well you can’t very well remove it from the box, now can you? So how do you know how to destroy it if you can’t examine it?” Zedd’aki said, lifting a brow.

  “I see your point. I guess we should take some notes before we stick it in the box, Eh?” Ja’tar said, matter-of-factly.

  Zedd’aki rolled his eyes and grunted, “Nice. Pointing out the obvious always has been your strong suite.”

  Ja’tar scowled and held back his retort.

  “We should get going. We don’t want to end up hanging around too long and having the spawn find us,” Ja’tar finally said, standing up and shaking out his legs.

  The two mages hustled on the way back. Ja’tar was dripping with sweat and he was panting like a dog. By the time they reached the top of the last foothill and stood staring down at the Keep, both men were exhausted and their breath was coming in raspy gasps.

  “I’ll be glad when this is done,” he said, gasping between each word.

  Zedd’aki paused, but didn’t say anything else, focusing on controlling his breathing.

  “We’ll be back in the Keep within the hour,” Ja’tar panted.

  “Let’s hope the rest of the journey goes smoothly,” Zedd’aki grunted.

  The two men started the last leg of the journey, striding down the hill toward the Keep. Ja’tar kept a look out for spawn while Zedd’aki scanned the deep forest for wolven. The night was clear and cold and they could see their breath by the light of the golden moon.

  Zedd’aki gripped his four spears tightly in white knuckled hands. He fully expected to run into trouble before they found harbor within the Keep’s gates. Ja’tar cast another set of wards, sending his feelers out into the surrounding wood. Like Zedd’aki, he was also anxious and antsy to get back within the walls. They had already been going nonstop for the past five hours and it was beginning to wear on their concentration.

  Zedd’aki detected motion in the trees and threw up a hand. Ja’tar froze in his steps and stared into the woods where his friend was pointing. A wolf dashed across the open field chasing a jackrabbit, catching it mid-stride and carried it off into the brush in its bloody jaws.

  Ja’tar visibly relaxed. Zedd’aki didn’t. He felt something wrong, but couldn’t put his finger on it. He took another step forward, but continued to search the dark shadows before he found what he had feared. A single spawn, hiding behind a giant tree, stood watching.

  Zedd’aki took two steps closer to his friend. “We have company,” he whispered under his breath.

  Ja’tar’s eyes widened, “Where?”

  “In the shadows by the tree off our left flank, about two hundred strides ahead.”

  “What do you want to do?” Ja’tar asked.

  “I think we wait and see how things play out. I don’t see any wolven,” Zedd’aki answered quietly.

  “I think we should appear to be hunting,” Ja’tar suggested. “Make them think that we know they’re out there and that we’re hunting them.”

  “Why?” Zedd’aki said. “Right now we hold the element of surprise. We know they’re out there.”

  “True, but they may believe that we’re afraid of them,” Ja’tar said, with a little bravado in his voice.

  “We aren’t?” Zedd’aki replied back with a weak chuckle.

  “But they don’t know that,” Ja’tar reasoned. “Besides, I have a little surprise in my pack.”

  Zedd’aki looked at his friend in the bright moonlight and saw that he was grinning widely.

  Ja’tar broke open the pack and tossed two short curved blades to his friend. He pulled two out for himself, “Found these on their friends that we killed the other day. I’m willing to bet they’ll recognize them.”

  Ja’tar swung the blades methodically in a rhythmic pattern and clanged them together loudly. Zedd’aki had to bite back a loud laugh. Sometimes his friend surprised him, but hardly more than he had this time. Zedd’aki followed his lead and clanged his together.

  “Want to have some fun?” Ja’tar asked.

  “Could I stop you?” he replied sarcastically.

  “Not this time,” Ja’tar answered with a murderous tone to his voice.

  “Then by all means,” Zedd’aki grinned.

  “Grolk nadogzat glic gro-nok. Dra glik eeeowae,” he growled out loud.

  “What the halla was that?” Zedd’aki said, not expecting his friend to start shouting spawn.

  “I told them that we know they’re out there, and that we need more blades,” Ja’tar said, grinning.

  Well, that’s that. I guess we see if you have scared them or just made them mad.”

  “Let’s run straight at him,” Ja’tar suggested, “Let him know we mean business.”

  Zedd’aki shrugged and started a slow jog turning toward where he had seen the spawn. He readied his blade waving it in its direction and let out a blood-curdling scream.

  “That’s the spirit,” Ja’tar said, joining in charging down the hill.

  Ja’tar saw a bright flash for a second in the trees. He thought to himself, either the spawn left, or they were in for a visit from reinforcements.

  They had almost reached the gate, still no sight of either spawn or wolven. They veered at the last minute and Ja’tar cast his spell to let them into the Keep. They quickly worked in unison to slide the log free using their magic and push the gate open. They rushed through the door and Zedd’aki closed it while Ja’tar wove the protective spell back into existence.

  “That was a very stupid thing to do,” Zedd’aki said, slapping his friend on his back.

  Ja’tar grinned like a schoolboy. “It was, wasn’t it? But we’re safe back within the Keep.”

  “Sometimes I think you have a death wish,” Zedd’aki muttered. Ja’tar just grunted back his response.

  After they replaced the pole through the two arm-span-sized iron rings that held the gate secure, they headed back inside. It didn’t take Zedd’aki and Ja’tar long to retrace their steps back to the turret. Standing at the top of the stairs, they unlatched the stained-glass window, pushed it wide open and peered out at the coming dawn. The sun was not up yet, they still had time, but the golden edges to the thin dark purple and red clouds let them know they didn’t have much time.

  “Sun’s rising,” Ja’tar commented.

  “Then we better get moving,” Zedd’aki replied, checking to make sure the box was secure in his bag.

  He carefully climbed out on the blue gray rock ledge and started to maneuver up the stones toward the slate roof. The morning frost had covered the stone blocks and his smooth soled leather boots slipped off the glazed surface. He only had a second to react and he flung his arms out making a desperate lunge for the rocky protrusion, missing the ledge to his right by a fingers width. His arms scraped down the rough surface of the wall and his hands caught the lowest step as his body swung hard, his head narrowly missing the ledge and his body slamming hard into the turret wall.

  “Help ...” came a muffled guttural cry from outside the window.

  Ja’tar looked up from what he was doing and rushed to the ledge just in time to see his friend dangling from the narrow ledge just out past the window. Zedd’aki’s eyes were filled wit
h terror and focused.

  “Grab the box,” Zedd’aki shouted, grimacing, trying to get a better grip on the rock by rocking his hand back and forth, “We can’t lose it.”

  The box was working its way out of the shoulder bag as Zedd’aki kicked and tried to secure his footing on the slippery rock surface. Ja’tar wedged his feet on either side of the window and reached out grabbing Zedd’aki by his coat collar.

  “I got you,” he screamed, feeling his legs press hard against the rock. His feet slid as he tried to wedge himself in position to take the load. He grunted as he strained.

  “Get the box,” Zedd’aki shouted again, as it was now teetering on the edge of the pack. His coat was sliding up over his shoulders and soon he would slip out, plunging to his death.

  “Can’t get the pack,” Ja’tar grunted as the coat slipped from his hand, forcing him to twist his hand sharply and grab a second time. He barely gripped a handful of the thick material in his cold hand before Zedd’aki dropped down a few more inches.

  Zedd’aki let go of the ledge with his left hand and reached around trying to shove the box back into the pouch. He tottered and swung wildly in the wind as he managed to throw the leather cover over the opening.

  “Don’t you let go,” Ja’tar said, with tears in his eyes. “I’m losing my grip…”

  Zedd’aki steeled his jaw and threw his arm up grabbing Ja’tar’s sleeve above his wrist. Ja’tar groaned as Zedd’aki’s put his full weight on his arm, popping his shoulder out of its socket.

  “Don’t swing, don’t swing,” Ja’tar cried out.

  Zedd’aki stopped kicking and dangled there. He heard the fabric slowly tearing. With no time to hesitate, he pulled himself up with his right hand, digging his nails into Ja’tar’s arm. He threw his left arm out wide, gripping the window frame above the ledge.

  Ja’tar reached over and grabbed Zedd’aki’s other arm and pulled hard, throwing all his weight behind the motion. Ja’tar’s arm was exploding with pain and he felt the room spin. Zedd’aki fought with white knuckles and a determined look on his face as he hooked an elbow over the ledge and pulled himself up. He grunted loudly, redoubling his effort and hefted himself inside, kicking his feet as he tried to shimmy into the opening.

  Ja’tar let go as he fell backwards and gripped his arm tightly, his face contorted from the shooting pain. Zedd’aki’s face was white from fear as he panted and tried to control the involuntary shaking caused by the near death experience. He rolled to his back feeling as if he was going to be sick while his heart pounded wildly in his chest.

  “My arm,” Ja’tar grimaced, clutching his arm close to his side as tears rolled down his cheeks. “My shoulder…it’s dislocated. By the Ten, it hurts so.”

  Zedd’aki crawled over, “Hold on. I’ll fix it.”

  He grabbed Ja’tar’s arm. Ja’tar choked out a muffled scream when he placed his foot under his armpit, “This is going to hurt.”

  “No! No!” Ja’tar hoarsely shouted.

  Zedd’aki set his jaw and yanked hard feeling the shoulder pop back into place with a loud snapping sound as the cartilage gave way. Ja’tar gurgled and shuddered, feeling lightning hot pain shoot down his arm. His eyes fluttered and he slumped, passing out. Zedd’aki let go and collapsed on the floor, exhausted, sick to his stomach from the exertion.

  When Ja’tar came to, Zedd’aki was sitting on the floor next to him, his hands still shaking. The two stayed still for a while on the dirty dusty floor, catching their wind.

  “That was close,” Ja’tar panted, while he tried flexing his arm. He pushed himself up with his good arm.

  Zedd’aki checked his bag, making sure the box was not damaged, “Do you feel like we can try this again? The sun is almost up.”

  Ja’tar looked out at the brightening sky and pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his back spasmed from the strain of holding up Zedd’aki’s full body weight.

  Zedd’aki stood up and leaned out the window. This time, he cast a focused spell that he guided with his left hand, heating the rock ledges free of frost with hot white flames before he stepped out. He felt the stone, and satisfied that it was warm and dry; he quickly worked his way to the roof.

  Ja’tar started out onto the ledge, but after he had reached the second step, he froze, unable to go any further. His arm wouldn’t go above his head. He rested and tried again. It was no use, he had to go back.

  Zedd’aki turned himself around and after spreading his legs wide to leverage his weight; he reached over, grabbing Ja’tar by the coat, startling him. He pulled him up, helping him to wiggle through the narrow hole.

  “Thanks. I was having a rough time getting my arm over my head, it just wouldn’t go.” Ja’tar confirmed, as he crawled through the small opening.

  “No problem,” Zedd’aki said, without fanfare.

  Zedd’aki crawled across the ceiling and was busy lowering himself into the room landing lightly on his feet as Ja’tar rested before he also made the exact same journey. He was favoring his shoulder and as he rolled over the edge, he realized his good arm wouldn’t hold his weight. He let go and crashed awkwardly to the stone floor, twisting his ankle as his body landed sideways forcing his legs to collapse under him. He rolled and grabbed it and swore loudly.

  Zedd’aki saw him fall and quickly moved to help him to his feet, “You seem to be having a rough go if it.”

  Ja’tar threw his good arm over Zedd’aki’s shoulder and grunted while he hobbled around, working his ankle lose. “I’ll survive,” he cursed quietly, as he limped.

  Within minutes, they were standing by the table, the spell box in hand. Zedd’aki stood staring at the weave. Its undulating colors were so tightly packed; he could barely make out the individual strands.

  “Whoever did this was a Master in every sense of the word!” Zedd’aki said, with a soft whistle.

  “Now what?” Ja’tar asked, nodding his agreement.

  “Now we open the box and set it over the top of the orb,” Zedd’aki explained while glancing at the orb.

  The orb throbbed and hummed a deep vibrating tune that Zedd’aki could feel all the way to his toes. He approached the table and listened carefully as the hum changed becoming more erratic and higher pitched. He knew he would have only one shot at getting the orb into the box. He had better make it count.

  “That’s it?” Ja’tar asked, thinking to himself that there had to be more to it. Nothing was that simple, especially in magic.

  “Well, that’s the start…” Zedd’aki said, balancing the open box above the orb and adjusted his position, crouching so that he could get a good look at the globe as he lowered the box.

  “What do you mean, that’s the start?” Ja’tar asked.

  Zedd’aki didn’t answer. His mouth twitched uncontrollably; his concentration fully focused on the task at hand.

  “Just a second,” Zedd’aki said, quickly slamming the box over the top of the orb and pushing down with all his weight. He could feel the orb fighting for its freedom.

  “Wait!’ Ja’tar shouted, but it was too late. The box was snuggly over the pulsing orb.

  “What?” Zedd’aki said, glancing sideways at his friend, impatient to continue. “Come on, I’m busy here. We have limited time.”

  “What do you mean by that’s a start?” Ja’tar asked, placing his hands on the table, noticing that Zedd’aki’s hands were shaking.

  “Well, for starters, the orb is animus, so I suggest we finish this up before it shatters the floor and the tower.”

  By now, the bottom of the table had charred and energy pulses were leaking out through cracks under the box and bore into the floor. The floor was starting to shake and smoke. Ja’tar even saw fracture cracks forming in the stone as the orb tried to escape its confinement. The box shook and Zedd’aki threw both arms around it to keep it from bouncing off the table.

  “Come on,” he growled, struggling with the magic.

  Ja’tar’s jaw dropped open and he stepped back
from the table feeling helpless.

  Zedd’aki turned the box around in a single motion and put the lid between him and the box. He took a deep breath and slid the box to the edge of the table.

  “Well, this is it. Wish me luck!’ he growled, as he prepared to close the box, gripping it tightly with one hand on the lid, the other on the back of the box.

  “Good luck, what…” Ja’tar stuttered, helpless to interfere.

  Zedd’aki grabbed the box and simultaneously slid the lid under as he pulled the box off the table. The orb dropped into the box lid as the room shook. An immense shock wave blast of purple energy crackled out past the closing lid spraying out, hitting the rear wall of the room and bounced back, throwing objects and broken stone as it destroyed almost everything it touched.

  The blast knocked Zedd’aki back two steps and slammed him into the wall. He tried to retain his footing, but couldn’t so he concentrated instead on keeping the lid closed. If he failed, the orb would destroy them and half the Keep. Unfortunately, he also had to keep an eye out for the small amount of energy that had escaped in the fraction of a second it took him to get the orb off the table and the lid closed.

  The purple energy pulse snaked its way around the room, knocking books, papers and paintings from the walls. It howled as it was cut off from the orb and hissed evilly.

  “Got you!” Zedd’aki hissed back, diving to the floor with the box wrapped tightly in his arms.

  The first tentacle of light nearly caught Ja’tar standing like a dolt watching, his mouth open. Ja’tar dove for the floor as a larger tentacle of energy hit the wall directly behind where he had been standing. Zedd’aki held the box tightly and rolled to the side avoiding another quivering energy blast.

  “Are you insane?” Ja’tar shouted at Zedd’aki. “You’re going to get us killed.”

  “Just ... a second … I ... got it … closed,” Zedd’aki grunted, while he worked to seal the latch, pushing it down, sealing the box. He cast a spell, sealing the entire edge. He set the nondescript box down in the center of the floor and sat up. Ja’tar rolled over and looked at his friend.

  The room was a shambles, papers, wood, and stone debris was everywhere as the last bit of purple crackled about, scorching the edges of the papers and wood that it skittered over.