The Eye and the Arm

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “You can hear me?”

  “Of course. I’m standing right here.”

  “But… you’re not real.” He quickly checked again to be sure. “You’re an illusion.”

  “Indeed, but I am capable of interacting with you.”

  Farrell stared with his mouth slightly open. The complexity of the spell nearly overwhelmed his thoughts. When Kel laughed, Farrell stopped trying to think of how to cast the spell. “Don’t be so surprised. Having lived more than two thousand years, I’ve had a lot of time to dream up all manner of useless spells. Many are in the book you’ve already received from Khron’s priest. This particular spell took me decades to perfect. I kept trying to leave for good, but the spell kept dissolving before I could finish casting it. Thankfully Beatrice left me a book with her thoughts on the topic that was a great help. But she was ever the better wizard.”

  “Beatrice was better than you?” The debates between his master and mother over who was the better wizard, Beatrice or Kel, had usually ended in a draw.

  “Beatrice was a dear friend and a great wizard, but her passion was more academic than practical application. Whereas I had a flair for the dramatic and would put my theories into practice for all to see, she preferred to keep her great works private and act without taking credit.

  “But I digress. Tell me why I shouldn’t keep walking.”

  Farrell tapped his staff on the ground and illuminated the runes he’d etched onto the floor. “Because if you move beyond the small area around the white stone, my counterspell will very likely void the bindings on your spell.”

  Kel glanced at the floor, then at Farrell. “Can you turn it off?”

  “Yes.” He almost withdrew his spell, but a thought stopped him. “I’ll do it, but only if you promise to deactivate your spells first.”

  “They will not harm you so long as I am here.”

  “And if you leave?” Farrell’s question drew a loud chuckle.

  “So distrustful.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Kel smiled. “As you wished, the spells are deactivated. You proved yourself powerful enough to handle what I have stowed here. In the future, should you enter the room, it will recognize you. But be warned—only you may enter unharmed. The spells will not permit you to bring anyone else with you.”

  Farrell almost questioned the rule but stopped when he had a thought. “And the room can discern between me and another?”

  “If you were to bring in another person, he or she had better be very good at defending themselves.”

  “History has not done you justice.” Farrell wished the real Kel stood before him and not an illusion. “It will take a few moments to undo my counterspell. Please be patient.”

  “Since I am a mere animated image, time has no meaning to me. Take as much time as you need.” He gestured about a quarter of the way around the room from the lone door. “I need to take you over there.”

  Farrell moved his staff over a narrow area of the floor. When he’d woven the counterspell, he made it contiguous so it could be more quickly applied. Erasing part of it required a small modification he originally did not have the time to incorporate. Carefully he carved a path through the spell in the direction Kel motioned he was heading.

  “Forgive me, ancestor, but I plan to keep most of my spell in place as a protection in case I did not word my request correctly.”

  “Delightfully distrustful. I can see you understand the nature of your opponent.”

  Farrell ignored the comment to focus on his task. When he completed the narrow walkway, he returned his staff to his back. “If you need me to free more space, please let me know. Hopefully this will prove sufficient.”

  Kel inclined his head slightly, causing Farrell to freeze. The angle of his face, the color of his hair and eyes, the way he smiled, how he held his head when he gave Farrell a quizzical look, all reminded the younger man of his deceased grandfather. Even the style of clothing Kel chose mirrored what Bren had worn when he ruled Yar-del.

  “You appear uncertain. Is there a question?”

  Even though the image wasn’t Kel, Farrell didn’t want to admit to his moment of weakness. “I… um… I don’t know what to do next.”

  “Well, that would depend. I will point you where you need to go. The rest is up to you…. How should I address you?”

  The question took him by surprise. It had been thrown in at the end in such an offhand way, he wondered if Kel was testing him. “My mother named me Halloran, but for my safety I have been called Farrell since I was two years old.”

  “Fascinating. If I were really me, I’d want to know the circumstances behind that answer.”

  “If you were really you, I’ve no doubt you’d already know them.”

  “Well met, my young friend, but you still haven’t told me how I should address you.” Kel’s image seemed so amused by the exchange, Farrell almost forgot he wasn’t real.

  “Farrell will be fine. Almost no one calls me Halloran, not even my life partner.” As Kel walked out of his spot, Farrell asked, “How should I address you? Your Majesty? Grand Master Kel? Ancestor? Great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather?”

  Kel turned so he stood inches from Farrell. “You may have left out a few ‘greats.’ Kel will do fine. Titles were one irritant I happily left behind when I abdicated the throne. Or, if you prefer, grandfather is acceptable. Just leave out all the ‘greats,’ if you don’t mind.”

  “You remind me of my grandfather, King Bren.” Farrell smiled at the image of Yar-del’s last king. He hadn’t known his grandfather well, but his mother told him what a kind, loving man he’d been. “I barely knew him, but from all I’ve been told, he was a good, honorable man. Since you don’t mind, I will call you grandfather.”

  After he said the words, he felt foolish. It wasn’t Kel standing in front of him. Why did it matter how he addressed the image? If—when—he met the real Kel, he’d have to ask him how he wanted to be addressed.

  “Grandfather it is.” Kel motioned toward the wall. “Shall we?”

  Farrell stared hard at the blank stone. Other than a faint residue of power, he detected nothing. He almost dismissed what he saw as the remains of the energy used to create the room. “Or not,” he whispered.

  Ignoring Kel, he examined the spot closer. Pushing out with his senses, he touched an innocuous stone-forming spell, the kind of magic he’d expect to find in a room carved from the bowels of a mountain. When it flared to life, he gasped.

  “Lord of the sky.” He smiled and turned toward Kel. “I’ve hidden spells before, but none so powerful as that.”

  “Hopefully you are better at it than I. You were not supposed to be able to find it without my aid.” Kel’s eyes danced and his lips curled upward. “Tell me what you see.”

  “A matrix of sorts. Layer upon layer of spell lines, overlapping and supporting each other. It’s incredible. You’ve woven the spells in such a way that they naturally hide themselves by confusing any eye that chances upon them. I didn’t think that possible without a concealment spell.”

  Farrell’s mind sped back the thousands of miles to Gharaha. If he could find a way to use this technique, he could finish the weapon without the need to cover everything with his tedious and time-consuming masking spell.

  “What else do you see?” Kel’s voice snapped him from his daydream.

  “Beyond that magic is a shield of great strength, powered from a small object below the floor.” He paused and turned toward Kel. “There is a small room protected by the spell. There may be objects in the room. I can’t tell. To be certain, I’d need to negate the spells between us.”

  Kel raised a bushy graying eyebrow. “Can you?”

  Farrell squinted as he scrutinized his ancestor’s handiwork to be certain he didn’t miss anything. “Yes, I believe I can.”

  He stood quietly as Kel stared at him. “Did you want me to”—he pointed toward the wall—“you know. Do it?”

  Kel nodded
. “Please. After all, I’m not really here, so I can’t do it myself.”

  Farrell suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. If he knew anything, he knew Kel—or the image of Kel, in this case—controlled everything in the room. Ignoring the presence a foot away, he touched the spell with his mind and traced it backward to its point of origin. He whispered a few words, and Kel’s handiwork disappeared without any fanfare. When he turned to see what he should do next, he found Kel staring at him with a queer expression.

  “Something wrong, Grandfather?”

  “Wrong? No, nothing is wrong.” Kel seemed deep in thought. His eyebrows flared and he focused on Farrell. “That was unexpected. I’ve never seen it done quite like that before.”

  “Oh.” Erstad and Wesfazial often commented on how he did things differently. “It’s an easy enough thing to turn it off.”

  “If you say so. Still, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Disappointing Kel—even his image—stung.

  Kel smiled and waved a hand. “Of course you didn’t, my dear grandson. Quite the opposite. I meant this to see if you could finesse your way past the shields, much as I designed this room to test your ability to adapt quickly to unexpected attacks. I did not anticipate you could just turn off my spell. Your actions are astounding and fascinating.”

  Farrell felt the heat increase in his cheeks. Heminaltose had never praised his novel ways of dealing with problems. The mischievous expression returned to Kel’s face. “Care to see what I’ve hidden in that room?”

  Feeling like a child at winter festival about to enter the pie maker’s shop, Farrell nodded eagerly. Kel placed a shimmering hand on the wall directly in front of him. The wall flickered for a moment but didn’t change appearance. Kel’s hand passed through.

  “After you, grandson.” He moved to the side.

  Farrell stepped forward and hesitated. It could have been another test, but Kel’s expression and words said otherwise. Trusting his instincts, he walked toward the wall. His foot met no resistance, but he kept his eyes closed as he crossed the barrier. When he opened his eyes, Kel stood beside him.

  The wall shimmered again. Curious, Farrell reached back and touched the solid rock.

  “You’re the key.” He understood what Kel had done, but he still couldn’t comprehend the scope of the magic needed to construct and protect these rooms.

  “I am. Anyone who tries to blast their way into this chamber would cause the contents to shift somewhere else in the complex.”

  The small room—fifteen feet wide by ten feet long—was little more than barren rock. A sconce with a globe of pale blue wizard’s fire hung on each wall, and a small stone trunk sat to his left.

  “Did you bring the book I left for you in Northhelm?”

  Farrell nodded and withdrew the tome from his endless pocket. “I did.”

  “Of course you did.” Kel pointed to the left. “Place it on the trunk, please. Make sure all the book is on the stone top.”

  His boots echoed in the empty room. Carefully he did as instructed and stepped back. The book jumped slightly, then flew open almost to the end. When the pages settled, it opened to a blank sheet. Kel touched the page with his right finger, and the parchment turned black. Light from the globe overhead revealed the book acted as a portal into the chamber below. Craning his neck so as to not block the light, Farrell saw two objects at the bottom of the space.

  “The opening is real. You may reach inside and remove what you find.”

  Tentatively, Farrell put his hand through the page. His fingers touched a short, smooth, circular object. Grasping the tube, he turned it slightly to bring it through the opening.

  The four-foot long silver cylinder had a cap on one end. He placed it to the right of the book and reached for the second item. It felt like a box in well-oiled leather. He ran his fingers along the edges and worried the box might be bigger than the open page. He pulled it toward the opening, hoping it would fit.

  As he estimated, the box was too large for the page, but the book expanded like one of his endless pockets until Farrell could easily remove the small chest. Stitched on three sides, the item measured about three feet in length, two feet wide, and twelve inches thick.

  Farrell set the box next to the cylinder. He noticed Kel staring at him expectantly. Replaying Kel’s instructions, he ordered the globe over his head into the trunk. In the dark back corner, he observed a small leather pouch, which he quickly retrieved.

  Before he could set the bag next to the other two items, the page turned back to its original blank state. Kel nodded at him when he stole a glance at his guide. “Well done.”

  Farrell decided to examine the pouch first, and under the watchful eye of his grandfather, he untied the drawstring. A large blue gemstone the size of his fist tumbled into his hand when he upended the leather bag. When he held up the gem, it sparkled in the wizard’s fire.

  “It’s….” Farrell almost didn’t want to dare believe what he saw. It couldn’t be that, could it? “It’s….”

  “The Eye of Honorus.”

  Farrell’s eyes went wide. “The… the… Eye of Honorus?”

  “Don’t look so surprised, grandson. Did you think I’d go to all this effort to hide a few trinkets and baubles?”

  He’d expected something valuable, but the Eye? “No, but a Gift of the Gods? This is beyond my dreams.”

  “I’d suggest you keep your superlatives to a minimum for the moment.” Kel gestured to the other items. “You’ve not opened the cylinder.”

  With shaking hands, Farrell placed the Eye back in the pouch and reached for the silver tube. The top unscrewed easily, and Farrell peered into the cylinder. Nestled in a cushion of purple velvet rested a three-foot-long silver staff, topped with a round crystal. Farrell suspected he knew which Gift he held. As he drew the contents slowly from its container, he glanced up at Kel.

  “The Arm of Khron.” Kel put his ethereal hand on top of the chest. “Inside this box are two books, which have no fancy names, nor have they been touched by the divine. They are merely books I wrote for you, my heir. One explains the Eye and the Arm, the other gives you information I thought you might find useful. Call it hubris to place my own words beside gifts from Honorus and Khron, but hiding them inside this room and in that trunk kept them away from prying eyes.”

  Farrell snorted as he slid the Arm back into its case. “Among any other company, two previously unknown books penned by the legendary Kel would be a treasure beyond their weight in gold. To call them ‘merely books’ you wrote is like saying Dumbarten is merely an island off the coast of Lourdria.”

  “The containers are made to conceal the objects from even the most determined probes.” Kel’s demeanor changed, as if he were repeated a rehearsed speech. “Keep them wrapped when you’re not using them. One of the books deals with the Gifts, but it is by no means complete. I’ve scoured the world looking for information on how to use the Gifts, but there is a paucity of details available. My book on the Arm and the Eye contains everything I could find about either of them. The other tome is focused on magic I think you’ll find useful.”

  Kel went silent, his eyes unfocused. He stood so still he didn’t even appear to be breathing.

  “Am I being dismissed?” Farrell wondered if he’d get an answer. Sparks twinkled at the edges of Kel’s eyes, and he seemed to resume the demeanor he’d displayed when Farrell first encountered him.

  “In a word, yes.” Kel seemed a bit put off. “It takes a lot of energy to sustain this spell. You have what I meant for you to receive, so I’ll return from whence I came.”

  “Does that mean when I go, you’ll be gone for good?”

  “I truly don’t know what will happen when you leave. I created me to greet you and provide you with assistance in finding these items. Given the effort it took to do this much, more seemed imprudent.”

  Kel turned back toward the main room. He put his arm around Farrell’s s
houlder and although it didn’t feel like a real arm or hand, Farrell felt something.

  “In theory you should be able to summon me anytime you return to this room. However, that is just speculation. I’ve never used this spell before.” Kel paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I used it several times, but this is the first time it’s been activated.”

  Farrell stopped walking. “You’ve used this spell other times? Several other times? I’ve never heard of….”

  “And that is how it should be. This is the one you were supposed to come to first.”

  “There are other rooms like this?”

  “Not exactly like this, but yes, I created other places for you to find. And don’t be surprised if those other ‘me’s’ are aware of what transpired here today.”

  Farrell almost shouted. He’d been right all the time. Kel was still alive. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Kel’s voice stopped his words.

  “I wove into each ‘me’ a spell that allows us to share information. That way I didn’t need to go to each site to update each ‘me’ any time something important changed.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh? You sound disappointed. And here I was particularly proud of that part of the spell.” Kel chuckled. “Do you know how difficult it is to create an open conduit into a spell so you can access it remotely at some later time from a spell you’ve not even created?”

  Farrell shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. To be honest, I can’t imagine half of what you came up with to create this sanctuary.”

  “So what caused your disappointment?”

  “I thought you were… I mean… that….” He let out a sigh. Not only did he feel foolish for what he thought, but all Kel had done to create this—and the other hidden caches—made him feel overmatched. “I thought you were still alive.”

  “Ah. My apologies, but I can’t answer that.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t.” Kel stopped walking. “I only know what I knew when I created the spell. Certainly I was alive the last time I created or updated one of me, but that’s obvious. Nor can I say how long ago I did that, because time has no meaning to a magical image. I wish I could be more helpful.”