The Third Sign

by Scott D. Muller

  Tax returned the grate to its locked position after he exited the tunnel and gave it a couple tugs to make sure it was secure. Satisfied, he hurried back to his room. He looked at the big hourglass sitting on the shelf by his bed. By his reckoning, it was just after midnight. It was late and his eyes felt like they were filled with sand. Tax rubbed them, blew out the candle and crawled into bed. He winced, straightening his back. He needed to be up early in the morning to clean the stairs. Maybe only one more time...

  It was nearly midday before Tax heard back from the triad. During his lunch break, he saw the cup on the shelf upside down in the dining room, the signal that the triad wished to speak to him again. He wondered who turned the cup over and how they snuck about in the Keep without being seen. He supposed it was the assassin ... they were especially shifty he reckoned. He carefully made his way down to the lower bowels of the Keep taking extreme care to not be noticed or caught. The three halflings were already pacing the tunnels by the time he arrived and he saw the orb glowing in the distance before he got there.

  “’Bout time ye got here. We’ve been waiting half the morning,” the hooded one said. “Ye seem to be developing a habit of makin’ us wait on ye!”

  “I was doing my job, cleaning the wizards’ staircase, like I’ve been a doing for centuries,” Tax replied calmly. “I could only check the cup at me lunch break.”

  “Don’t matter none, I suppose ...” the stocky warrior replied. “We won’t be coming’ back here again. Let’s get on with it already!”

  The hooded one nodded, “Yer to be comin’ with us. The Seer wants to talk to ye.”

  Tax’s mouth fell open.

  “Well, don’t stand there a with yer mouth catching flies. Let’s be going ...” the hooded one said.

  “Do I have time to get my pack or ...” Tax began to ask.

  The warrior groaned, “He won’t be needing for anything. We need to leave now.”

  “Now?” Tax asked. “Why the hurry?”

  The hooded one was growing annoyed. “First ye want to meet with the Seer, now ye don’t. Well, which is it?”

  “I-I-I want ...” Tax mumbled. “... to.”

  “Well then, let’s get a move on it. Seer says to bring you now,” the hooded one said, crossing his arms, “and I’m not about to keep the mistress waiting. I’ll carry yer arse if I’m having to!

  “I-I suppose so then,” Tax muttered.

  The rogue shook his head in disgust, “Don’t know why she’s botherin’ with him ...” he grumbled under his breath. “Not likely to lead to nothin’.”

  The hooded one heard the comment and took quick action to diffuse the situation, “Well, she knows best. We’ll leave the supposin’ to her. She asked us to bring him, and that’s what were a gonna do. And that’s that!”

  The rogue dipped his head in acquiescence and stood quietly. The warrior turned to lead the way and Tax fell in behind them as they worked their way down the hall.

  Tax wondered if the wizards would miss him. Not like him to be missing from his duties in the middle of the day. He supposed it didn’t matter anymore. He had fulfilled his family’s contract. He broke into a huge grin and his gait loss the weight of the burden he and his family had carried for millennia. Tax was free!

  It seemed as if they had walked the bowels of the Keep for hours. Tax didn’t really know the way, so he followed closely. He had only been to see the Seer once before and wondered if she was going to meet him where the tunnels met the forest. They turned the corner and Tax could see the bright sunlight streaming in at the end of the tunnel. It hurt his eyes and made him squint. He hadn’t spent much time in the open; he liked the secure feeling of having the stone around him.

  “Wait here,” the warrior commanded.

  Tax stopped and watched as the crafty halfling peered through the branches that covered the tunnel’s entrance. He slowly lifted the branches up and looked out; scouting the surrounding countryside to make sure they wouldn’t be found out.

  “The way is clear,” he shouted down. “Hurry it up.”

  After leaving the Keep, the band of four followed game trails that circled the mountain and generally headed to the northeast. Tax had never been outside the Keep before and his eyes were wide as they made their way through the forest of the Elders. Tax heard whispers that made his skin crawl.

  “What are they sayin’?” Tax asked the hooded one.

  “What? he replied, turning to see what the halfling wanted.

  “I said, what are the trees sayin’?”

  The hooded one pushed his hood back from his face and removed his mask. “You can hear them?”

  Tax listened carefully. “They’re whisperin’ something, but I just can’t make it out.”

  Tax had been so busy staring up into the trees he hadn’t noticed that the man had removed his mask. When he looked down, his jaw dropped open. The man’s face was white as his beard and his eyes were nearly pink in the daylight. He had long flowing hair that was shoulder length and was neatly braided down the side. However, he was not a ... halfling.

  “You’re ... a dwarf!” Tax uttered in shock, taking a couple steps backwards.

  “I’m Brawn,” the dwarf said, extending a hand and cracking the first smile Tax had ever seen him make.

  Tax hesitantly shook the man’s hand and stared. “Bu-but ...” he babbled.

  “You’ll get over it. Ye didn’t think the Seer only dealt with halflings did ye?”

  Tax nodded, embarrassed to admit it.

  Brawn roared with a big belly laugh. “Well then, you are in for a few more surprises before the day ends me thinks!”

  “Where are we headed?” asked Tax.

  “Yer goin’ to see the Seer,” Brawn answered slowly, with an irritated look on his face.

  “I-I knows that already, I meant where?” Tax stuttered.

  “Ye’ll see,” was all he got back.

  Tax felt stupid for asking the obvious question. It didn’t seem he was going to get any more information out of the band, so he figured he might as well just shut his trap and enjoy the walk. He was glad that he had his walking shoes on. He didn’t normally wear them, but the underworld of the Keep was chock full of things that were slimy and bit. Even still, he felt the pinch and poke of every rock. He looked ahead. The other members all wore stiff boots with hard soles. He hoped he wouldn’t need boots like those before the day was through.

  The pines smelled strongly here and the air was thick with mayfly hatchlings. Spring was almost here. Tax could see the new growth poking up out of the needle and leaf strewn forest floor. He tried to see ahead, but there were too many trees for him to get a good view of where they were headed. All he knew was that they were heading up into the mountains.

  They eventually began following a short cliff. The rock-strewn base made travel hard and Tax had to frequently put down a hand to gain his balance. Sunlight filtered through the trees, which had shifted from pine to aspen and the dappled light scattered at their feet, painting a colorful picture on the granite rocks. It seemed to Tax that the cliff was getting taller, but he wasn’t sure.

  They stopped after a couple hours at the opening of a cave. They were able to see it because of the angle of their approach, but had they come from any other direction, they would have walked straight past the slab of stone cocked to one side that hid the entrance.

  “There ye go!” the hooded one said, pointing into the dark. “The Seer will be waiting for ye inside.”

  Tax looked to the cave and then back at the men, “Aren’t you joining me?”

  The warrior shook his head and chuckled, “I have no desire to ever see the Seer again. Once was plenty.”

  “What ye waiting for?” the Brawn asked, with a toothy grin, giving Tax a shove. “Best to not keep her waiting ... I would think.”

  Tax swallowed hard, bent over deeply, and entered the cavern. The entrance was web-filled and the thin strands fell across his face, causing him to shiver and wipe
frantically with his hand. Tax didn’t like spiders. He was going to see the Seer. Scary, scary Seer, he thought to himself.

  The tunnel was tighter than he hoped. Filled with roots from the trees growing high above, it smelled dank and rotted, not unlike fertile soil, and yet different. It had an almost sharp tang to it that burned his nose. Tax worked his way down the tunnel step by step, tripping over half-buried rocks and roots. He had already lost most of the light from the entry and was proceeding by touch. His kind had better night vision than most, but he had been far too long living in the world of man in their stone buildings and had lost his gifts.

  Tax stepped into a hollow and lost his balance. He threw up his hands to keep from crashing and landed in something sticky and wet. He pushed himself to his feet and wiped the slime off on his pants.

  He suddenly twisted and stared off into the dark. Something moved? He stood dead still and waited, holding his axe out in front of his face and waving it side to side menacingly. His hand shook and he could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. Tax needses to be calming down, he thought. He blinked hard and strained to see. After several seconds, his heartbeat returned to normal and he turned to continue his trek.

  He saw a dim light at the end of the tunnel and hurried forward. To his surprise, the tunnel opened up into a medium-sized cavern. The floor and ceiling were covered with smooth wet stalagmites and stalactites, which glistened in multicolor hues from reflections caused by the flickering light of the few candles that lined the walls. There was a shallow quiescent pool in the center of the room and several sitting pillows and blankets, stacked to one side. The Seer was sitting on one of the pillows with her shawl pulled up tight over her face. Tax could hear her chanting softly in the ancient tongue.

  The chanting stopped. A raspy voice croaked, “Tax Von Underling, welcome to my home. Please come in and sit by me.”

  Tax took a couple steps forward and then froze. Several huge spiders with ancient glyphs carved into their backs moved to block his path. They were milk white and had jet black eyes. Their mandibles snapped open and shut as they maneuvered for position. Tax had never seen spiders that huge and he froze, petrified by fear. His feet were unable to move.

  “Oh, don’t mind them ... they’ll let you pass. They’re just protective, my pets are. Come closer,” she motioned, with a frail, thin arthritic hand.

  Tax couldn’t move, “I-I ...”

  The Seer looked up and pulled her veil back. Her hair was thin and patchy and her skin was chalky and near white. She appeared to be thousands of years old with eyes that were covered with cataracts and set deep in her skull. She flicked her tongue, like a snake—tasting the air.

  Tax averted his eyes, unable to stare into that face.

  “Ah,” she rasped, with a chuckle. “My appearance isn’t much anymore.” She smiled a toothless grinned and cackled, “Bruhahaha.”

  “You’ll get used to it after a while. All of us pay a cost for the events of the times. Some of us pay a steeper price than others.”

  She lifted a hand and bade him forward. Tax’s foot took a step, then another. He was panicking because he wasn’t moving his body, she was! Step by step he was crossing the floor. The spiders parted to let him pass, sniffing at his feet; they were just inches from his feet and he swore that he could feel their tentacles on his legs. Spiders, evil, evil spiders, he thought to himself. Leave Tax alone! He could hear their clicking. They wanted to attack, he knew it. His whole body was shaking and he felt light-headed.

  “Yer feeling the effects of the herbs and powders,” she said, motioning to the two smoldering pots. “The incense helps with the readings ... and the visions.” She cackled loudly, amused with herself.

  Tax was right in front of her and try as he might to avert his eyes, he found himself staring into those translucent orbs. It seemed to him as if they were shifting in colors, swirling and undulating. She extended a frail hand, twisted and deformed. Her nails were inches long and twisted in on themselves. He felt his own hand hesitantly reaching.

  He swallowed hard just before she grasped his hand. Her hand was cold, clammy and without structure. He felt a calm envelop him as she gripped his hand and stroked his palm.

  “There, that’s better ...” she said, “now come and sit by me.”

  She motioned to a decanter, which floated over to the table and poured a glass of wine. Tax’s eyes widened. She reached over, grabbed the glass, and handed it to him, beckoning him to drink. “This will help yer nerves.”

  She grunted, forcing herself awkwardly to her feet. “Now you stay here. I need to be going to see something. I be makin’ a promise to be right back.”

  “But —”

  “No buts.” she said, waddling off.

  “But I need...”

  She didn’t answer and ignored his plea. She just waved a hand at him and shuffled off toward another cavern. She moaned softly as she moved, humming to herself. She held tight to a tall staff that was fitted with a dark purple globe. Tax could hear it thump on the cavern floor as she disappeared down a side tunnel.

  Tax sat, trying to calm himself. He reached for the wine, but his hand was shaking so badly that he feared he would drop the fine glass. He took a couple deep breaths and talked to himself.

  “Tax, you calm down you bloody fool. This be the day ye been waiting fer. Now yer acting like a damn fool. The Seer be here to help ye and ye been makin’ her feel a might poorly. Now you pulls yerself together.”

  He reached for the wine, grasped the glass with both hands, and took several big gulps. The strong wine burned as it slid down his throat. That was better. He leaned back and sank deep into the soft pillows. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying to unwind and calm himself. He felt the blur from the wine as it worked its way into his system, numbing his senses.

  Tax looked around the room. It wasn’t at all what he had expected, that was for sure. Twern’t much to see. He had expected so much more, something ... regal-like. He felt a little foolish, wool-headed even, for even thinking it. He supposed he just thought that the Seer, like the wizards, lived in a fine palace. He didn’t know why he thought it would be that way. He always just assumed it to be so!

  Tax concluded that her private room, or wherever she went was probably much nicer than this area, it just had to be. This area must have been for meeting folks, common folks like him, folks that didn’t matter all that much. He turned his attention to the pool located in a shallow hollow in the floor that was just in front of him. Every once in a while, a drip from above would fall, make a plunk sound and cause the water to ripple. It was the damndest thing, the sound of the drops didn’t echo! He made a sound by tapping the side of his wine glass and listened for the echo. Sure enough, there it was! He leaned over and looked into the pool. It was curious, nearly translucent, about as big around as his arms could reach, and about a hand’s- width deep.

  There was a tray sitting next to the pool. On the tray there were several polished stones with strange runes and markings on them. He also saw a small wooden cup, and lying to one side, along with a stack of what appeared to be finger bones covered with runes, were some multisided dice.

  Tax looked over his shoulder. The room was empty except for him. He reached down and poked the stones. They rocked gently and then stood still. He picked one up and turned it over in his hand. It felt cool to the touch. He ran his finger over the wavy design scratched into the surface. He picked up another, this one orange. It was unremarkable.

  The dice were strange, they had eight sides. He had never seen eight sided dice before. All the dice he knew were for playing games like King’s Cross and Cat’s Cradle. Cautiously, He moved one of the dice around, causing it to tumble. He didn’t recognize the patterns that were scrawled into each side and wondered whatever could you do with them and decided that it was probably better if he just left them alone. But the temptation was just too great ...

  He scooped up a handful of the stones and cast them across the
wood tray. They clicked and clacked as they fell in a haphazard pattern that made no sense to Tax. He supposed ye just needed to be a Seer to see anything in the random shapes and patterns.

  Just to be sure, he tossed them again, figuring that the same pattern should appear. When it didn’t, he picked them up one by one and put them back into the wooden cup.

  He wondered when the Seer would be back. He spotted the carafe that held the wine and decided to help himself to another glass. He had two more glasses before his vision blurred and he fell to sleep. He had no idea how long he slept, but the Seer was sitting there staring at him when he woke up.

  “Did you have a nice nap?” She asked, with a wide toothless grin.

  “I suppose I did,” Tax replied. “I’m sorry; I must have dozed off for a few minutes.”

  The Seer cackled musically.

  “What’s so funny?” Tax asked, not seeing any humor in what he had said.

  “You are, little man. You are! You’ve been out for the better part of the day.”

  “The day,” he stammered. “I’m sorry. I-I-I ...”

  “Calm yerself down,” she said, motioning with a hand, “You needed the rest, but next time you should try to limit how many glasses of elven wine you drink ...”

  Tax blushed bright red at being caught.

  “Oh, it’s alright.” she said, setting her hand on his and patted it gently. “But too much of that has been known to give a man a headache to last the better part of a week. You don’t want no part of that kind of hurt, now do you? The elves have a saying that you can hear the drums of Avælador when you drink too much, but between you and me, me thinks that they’re talking about the pounding in yer head from the hangover you’ll be havin’ when ye been partaking too much. Ye hear me?”