The Third Sign

by Scott D. Muller

  Each day she taught the boy, using just enough power to be sure it took. She taught him the history of the family, about her, about her brother. She taught him about controlling the gift, everything she could think of. She hoped that someday he would remember her, remember what she had taught, understand the sacrifice.

  The child was two when they started the walk back to Balder. It would take some time. The knee-high boy, Bal’kor, had to walk because To’paz was too weak to carry him. With each passing day, the child grew stronger and smarter. The day before they entered the village, the boy spoke his first full sentence after being silent for two days.

  To’paz had been so surprised at the sound of her name coming from the young child’s mouth that she simply sat and cried. The child, not understanding that these were tears of joy, began to cry, thinking his mother was hurt. To’paz picked up the child and set him on her lap. She held him there; letting the love she had flow into the baby. She started to know the pain of a mother who knew she wouldn’t live to see her child grow.

  Once they reached the village, To’paz hitched a ride for the two of them back to her home in the back of a cart. She had been gone almost a month. She let them in to her hut and dropped her pack in the corner of the room. The boy was exhausted, so she took him to her room and put him down for a nap.

  She made a fire in the hearth and soon, the room began to warm. She lit a candle and carried it to the table. She sat down and made a list of things she had to take care of. Time was getting short. She needed to get Merl to help her with her final days.

  It took her almost two hours to complete her tasks. Finally, she had some time to herself. She stripped off her dirty clothes and went to the bathroom to take a long soak in a barrel of hot water. As she ran the water into the barrel, she looked at herself in the mirror. The changes were more noticeable now; she looked to be in her early fifties. She was aging well, considering what she had gone through. She was still a very beautiful woman.

  She took down her hair and stepped into the tub. She added water from her kettle to the barrel. The water was just barely warm, and she had to stand for a while before lowering herself. She used her hand to splash the water onto her legs until she became accustomed to the temperature. She slowly sat down into the tub and let the coolness spread through her sore body.

  She opened the top of the glass perfume bottle sitting next to the tub and dumped a fractional amount into the bath water. She laughed at her frugalness and realized how silly it was. She opened the container and added far more than she would ever allow herself under any other circumstance. The oils felt good on her skin and the smell of orchids filled the tiny room. She fell asleep, the water relaxing her and soothing her weary muscles.

  When she woke, she was cold and shivering. She lifted herself out of the barrel and dried herself off. She climbed into bed and almost immediately fell back asleep.

  She knew that it was time for her to start preparations for her untimely death. She remembered a lesson she had learned a long time ago about the placing of a soul into an enchanted object. She had little hope of ever being restored, but any chance was better than no chance. At the very least, her essence could help her son. It could also remind him of whom and what his mother was.

  She began the long and draining process of depositing who she was into the ancient bracelet, the bal’achar. With each thought she placed, an irreplaceable part of her went away. She was losing herself. The bracelet was becoming who she had been. She placed her childhood memories, her schooling, her wants and desires. For an entire week, it consumed her.

  Bal’kor was still growing at a rapid pace, but the effects of the power were wearing off. To’paz still used some to enhance his learning, but the effort of depositing herself left very little to spare. She was now six weeks past when the source had been cut off. She was extremely tired and empty. Her skin was wrinkled and her joints ached. The little boy gave his mother only love. He didn’t understand her turmoil; he didn’t care how she looked. He knew only that she was changing.

  To’paz sat down at her desk and started to compose the long letter intended to relinquish her control over the boy. She knew it had to provide his name, her name, and an explanation of the situation. She would send it with him when he went through the gate. She thought for a second and then put pen to paper.

  Brother, please forgive me ....

  Tonight was the last night she was to enjoy on this earth. She was saddened at the thought that Bal’kor would have to grow up without her to guide him. Eventually, he would know who and what he was, he would come to understand. The bracelet would talk to him. The bracelet was all that remained for her to take care of before she left. It would be hard and painful.

  The bracelet still had one stone glowing. She was proud of how wisely she had used her stored power. She sat and cried for a while before she went in to Bal’kor’s room. He was snuggled in his blankets, sound asleep. The bracelet could not be removed. It grew and shrank with the person to which it was attached. It was mystically bound. She couldn’t remove it; nobody else could remove it either. It had no clasp or latch. It was a continuous loop of metal, forged by her father and his father before him.

  To’paz made the journey to the castle by herself. She knocked on the door that Merl had showed her. After a short time, he answered, “May I help you?” He did not recognize her.

  “Hello Merl, it’s To’paz,” she smiled warmly.

  “To’paz?” By the gods, what happened…?”

  “I am old,” she said. “My magic has worn thin, I have very little time left and I need your help for me to finish. I cannot … cannot do it myself.”

  Merl wrapped his arms around her as she wept. “Of course I will help. What needs to be done?”

  “Come back with me to my house. We will need to leave tonight to go into the mountains.”

  They were quiet on the trip to the house. When they entered, she lit a single candle.

  “Come. Meet your son,” she said. She walked to a curtain across a doorway and pulled it back. Merl looked in and saw a small boy sleeping in the single bed.

  “It’s impossible. He is almost three!” Merl’s jaw just dropped. “He looks a lot like you To’paz.”

  “His name is Bal’kor. He has a lot of his father in him too,” she replied.

  “Bal’kor. Hmmm, that is a good name,” Merl said. “I like it.”

  To’paz lifted the boy off the bed and almost collapsed under the strain. “Can you carry him for me? I’m just…too weak,” she said, letting him fall gently back into the bed.

  Merl smiled emotionally and carefully scooped up the boy along with his blanket. She grabbed her pack and they left, trekking into the mountains. They had to stop several times to rest. She was exhausted from the weakness that permeated her bones. His arms ached and he was winded from being unaccustomed to carrying a load. The boy slept on, never waking.

  They finally approached the gate, the elaborately carved twin towers of stone. “The gate…” To’paz said unemotionally.

  Merl set the boy down and walked over to the towers. He touched them. Nothing. He walked around both of them. Nothing. He turned to To’paz, “I sense nothing. Are you sure it is magical?”

  To’paz walked over to join him, “It is, but it is very powerful old magic, older than my father’s father. We do not know how they were made or came to be. We only know that they are.” She looked at the gate painfully.

  “Here, take my hand and try to push it past the threshold.”

  Merl took hold of her hand and walked her to the threshold between the towers. He walked her right up to the middle of the platform with little effort. She stopped. Merl grabbed her hand and tried to pull her across. He could not do it. He couldn’t push her or pull her through the gates.

  “I never would have believed such a thing,” Merl said, shaking his head from side to side. “What do we do?”

  “You have very little to do. I will do the final enchantment to t
ransfer my spirit and will to the boy, and then I will die. You will take the boy to the gate and set him on the threshold in the middle of the circle. Next, you will press this ring to the symbol on the tower. That is all. The boy will go through the gate to the Keep. My brother will raise him.”

  To’paz handed the ring to Merl. He looked at it carefully, but failed to see how such a simple insignificant object could possess magic.

  “Must you go?” Merl asked. “Is there no other way?” Merl’s eyes swelled with tears.

  “I’m afraid not, Merl,” To’paz said. “I will miss you.”

  “You have my thanks for all you have done,” she said, hugging him tightly.

  She pulled out a clay bottle filled with a potion, removed the stopper and drank it quickly. She soon felt its numbing effect. She knelt down next to Bal’kor and cradled him, whispering into his ear. “Your mother loves you very much. Remember. Remember always!”

  Merl stood over her, watching. Having said her goodbyes, she gently touched the magic in the bracelet and in an instant, her hand and arm turned white, completely frozen. She felt no pain. She wrapped a rope around her arm and pulled it tight. She didn’t want to bleed to death before she completed her task. Now, it was time.

  She held her arm with her good hand and rapped it hard on the rocks. The hand shattered and all that remained was a stump. She pulled the bracelet free and slid it over Bal’kor’s hand. There! It was done. Her hand was thawing out and the wound began to throb.

  She knew she would have to hurry to finish before she passed out. To’paz took her son’s hand into hers and smiled at the bracelet, which had shrunk to a perfect fit. It would be with him forever, for the only way to remove a bal’achar was to die, or place its spirit into a willing and acceptable vessel.

  “Goodbye my son,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Remember me in your dreams, for I will be with you always.”

  With those last words, she committed her spirit to the bal'achar bracelet. It glowed brightly as she let it suck every last thought and feeling she had. Her eyes glowed and the strands of magic raced into the enchanted stone. Only an empty shell remained sitting on the ground, eyes glazed over. The end came swiftly now that every ounce of her essence was gone. Her skin aged, her hair whitened, she withered and turned to dust collapsing in on herself. When her son woke in the morning in the Keep, only a few ounces of dust would be left of her on the ground by the threshold.

  Merl stood there watching her body decomposed before his eyes. An errant breeze scattered her ashes. For the longest time he simply stood and stared, not wanting to believe she was really gone. He stepped over to where she had been and ran his foot through the ashes. He stooped down and placed his hand on the ground. “Be at peace, my friend. I hope your brother can perform this ... resurrection for you.”

  He walked over to the boy, thinking about keeping him in Naan, after all, he could send him through the gate anytime. His conscience wouldn’t let him do it. He had made a promise to his friend. Although they had spent less time together than he wished, he took his promises and responsibilities very seriously.

  He laid his hands on the boy’s head and conjured. “Remember me! Find me when you have the need.”

  Merl scooped up the boy and set him in the center of the gate. He made sure he was securely wrapped with the blanket and made certain that the letter To’paz wrote was tucked into his pocket. The boy stirred, but didn’t wake. He slowly walked to the tower and pulled the ornate ring from his pocket. He turned it over in his fingers. From what he could tell, it held no magic, no spell, and no power. He sighed deeply as he extended his shaking hand to the seal. The second the ring touched, the space between the towers swirled with mist and for a brief second, he could see into a cavernous room in a castle, somewhere… then the boy was there and the mist seemed to dissolve.

  Merl stood there on the platform in the middle of the night, alone, tempted to step into the mist. He wanted more than anything to see these ancients of which To’paz had spoken, but now was not his time.

  “Goodbye my son. I wish we could have had…time. Take care of your mother’s spirit,” Merl said, under his breath.

  His voice shook and sobs filled him, making his body quake. He turned away and headed back to the castle, his head hung low. He didn’t see the stares of a bearded man from the mist, nor did he see the mist swirl and smile.

  The Third Sign

  Zedd’aki was waiting in the chamber deep under the Keep for Ja’tar to arrive. He paced the platform of the Gate and idly traced the ruins and glyphs that covered the walls with his hand. The ancient ruins had been constructed back in the day, before Ror, and the stone was purposefully carved and meticulously polished. Zedd’aki stood in front and marveled at the domed ceiling, decorated with gold-gilded wood nymphs and fairies. The floor was a single polished slab with intricate elven magic knots set in metals and polished bright. The knots and glyphs provided a link to the magic and to the other Gates around the realms.

  Zedd’aki looked at the dilapidated state of the room and shook his head. He extended his hand and cast a spell to burn the dust, and clear the air. After he finished, he waved his fingers, created a fine weave of mist to wash the grime and dirt from the gate, and then dried the stones with soft warm air. He turned and cast a simple gathering spell that pulled all the dirt to the side of the room, and then he watched as it dribbled like sand from the top stair down until it reached the lowest level of the floor where it sat in a loose pile. He waved his arm and sent a blast of fire that burned the dirt, leaving only a small puff of smoke.

  He crossed his arms with satisfaction as he looked around the room. He felt much better knowing that the room was now clean, even if they were not going to use the gate room again for centuries after the travelers arrived. He wanted the travelers to come home to a well kept space. Many had been gone for centuries and had no idea how worn down the Keep had gotten in their absence. Zedd’aki chuckled to himself. They will be very surprised to see how few of them remain.

  Zedd’aki was bent over, examining one of the markings when the first tremor hit. The cave groaned and the room filled with a blue mist. Zedd’aki’s face turned white. He jumped clear of the platform when the chimes rang loudly, announcing an arrival. The song played and the mist completely filled the center of the floor, swirling in a circle under the high domed ceiling. The glyphs around the cave glowed orange and then brightened to yellow as the magic filled the air, crackling with eerie effect in the dimly lit room. Zedd’aki watched in amazement as the nymphs and fairies became animated and joined in the chorus, singing the Song of Coming.

  Zedd’aki didn’t have time to even turn before seeing a long robed man with a full white beard standing over a small-blanketed bundle in the center of the platform. The man looked about into the room with sad eyes and then walked away. Zedd’aki rushed into the mist in the center of the platform looking for the man and calling out. He saw the man walking away toward dense woods with his head hung low. Then the mist cleared and he was left standing alone with the bundle.

  The glyphs turned gray, the carvings froze and all was as it had been, except that each of the carvings was in a new position than they had been prior to the arrival.

  A small whimper came from the bundle and caused Zedd’aki to startle, whipping his head around. He stepped to the bundle, knelt down and hesitantly pulled back the blanket revealing a sleeping child about four years of age. A parchment was poking out of the child’s blanket and when Zedd’aki tried to pull it out, it came with the lad’s fingers tightly wrapped around the base. Zedd’aki gently uncurled the lad’s fingers from the parchment and removed it. Once it was free, he lowered his hand and softly cradled the child’s head so he could gaze at his face.

  The wooden door opened and Ja’tar stepped loudly into the room, slamming the door. He saw Zedd’aki standing with his back to him at the bottom of the stairs by the platform.

  “Ready to do this?” he called do
wn.

  Zedd’aki twisted around with a blank look in his eyes and put his finger to his lips, trying to quiet the old man. Ja’tar looked down and saw that he was holding something, but couldn’t clearly see what it was. A whimper came from the bundle and Ja’tar’s eyes showed his shock.

  “It’s from your sister,” Zedd’aki croaked, holding up a parchment with To’paz’s seal.

  Ja’tar rushed down the stairs nearly tripping and grabbed the scroll away from Zedd’aki. He rolled the parchment over in his hands, finding the wax seal. He stared for a long time at the twin fairies entwined above a simple crest, his family crest and lovingly ran his fingers over the wax. He looked at his ring, identical in every way, verifying that it was indeed To’paz’s. He looked down at the blanketed bundle, nestled in Zedd’aki’s strong arms.

  “The seal matches perfectly; it is from To’paz ...” Ja’tar choked out, while he clutched the note tightly in his callused hand.

  “It’s a child,” Zedd’aki mumbled hoarsely, carefully moving the blue coarsely woven blanket back from the sleeping child’s face with a shaking hand.

  Ja’tar stared at the babe and he knew, inside, he already knew. He hastily cracked open the seal on the scroll watching the blood-red wax crumble and fall to the floor. He gently unrolled the short fragile parchment and read. Zedd’aki watched as Ja’tar’s eyes darted back and forth across the note, narrowing as he read. His face turned crimson and his lips began to quiver, but he said nothing. He crumpled the note and shoved it into his pocket.