“What are you doing,” Ja’tar asked solemnly.
Zedd’aki leaned back in the window and motioned for Ja’tar to take a look. Ja’tar stood up and gazed out the opening. He looked left and right and didn’t see anything. He poked his head back in and was ready to ask a question when he was cut off.
“You need to look down,” Zedd’aki said.
Ja’tar glanced down and saw the little ledge. He pulled his head in and grinned his approval, clapping his friend across the back.
Zedd’aki pushed him out of the way and chanted until he had another ledge about two feet above the other, but over about a foot. He stepped out of the sash and wiped his brow, “Can you take over for a while?”
Ja’tar leaned out and began trying to replicate Zedd’aki’s cast. Zedd’aki corrected him, so soon he had a nice nub growing out and to the left of the other. He kept it growing until it was as big as his arm.
They kept up the pace for well over an hour before they had a nice set of eight steps, reaching the bottom of the steep roof.
They rested for a minute and had a snack of cheese and bread.
“So, do you want to go first?” Zedd’aki asked.
Ja’tar responded, “I guess so. We’ll need to remove the tiles from the roof. We should stack them here so we can replace them when we need to repair the roof.”
“You better take your chape off. Don’t want to be blown off the roof.”
Ja’tar nodded and removed his chape, setting it on his pack.
Ja’tar stepped out onto the small ledge and clung to the side of the turret wall as he stepped up to the next rock protrusion. He climbed slowly as his feet shook and his knees quivered. The cold wind cut through his thin robe and his hands were almost numb by the time he reached the roof.
He tried to find a loose tile and shook several before he found one that wobbled. He used his magic to help work the nails loose. He pried one of the tiles loose, and when it gave way, he almost toppled over backwards and he had to cartwheel his arms as he stood on the ledge with one leg before he regained his balance. He tied his robe’s cord around the tile and lowered it to Zedd’aki who was reaching up from the window on tiptoes.
Zedd’aki looked up as the wind blew his friend’s unbelted robe open. “There was a sight I can never un-see,” he grumbled to himself.
“What? Can you repeat that?”
Zedd’aki cringed. “Nothing, just mumbling to myself.”
Ja’tar removed four more tiles, before he let himself climb back down to the window. He stepped inside and rubbed his hands together trying to warm them. Zedd’aki put his hands over his friend’s and cast a gentle warming spell.
“Damn, by the Ten it’s cold out there!’
“I’ll go first,” Zedd’aki said, stepping to the ledge.
Ja’tar grabbed his arm and spun him around, “Don’t touch anything. Promise me?”
Zedd’aki agreed and started his climb. Reaching the hole in the roof, he crawled inside, balancing himself on the cross beams. He shimmied out into the room a little way to make room for his friend, taking care to keep his weight balanced across the beams. Ja’tar joined him under the roof. The wind howled and the biting cold made his hands burn.
“Do we just kick through the ceiling, or what?” Zedd’aki asked.
Ja’tar cast a well-controlled spell and Zedd’aki watched while a bright flame from the end of his hand cut a ragged rectangle out of the plaster and lath that covered the beams. The small piece broke loose and fell to the floor shattering.
Zedd’aki poked his head through the hole and looked around. He pulled himself back up.
“You have got to see this,” he said excitedly.
“You can see it?” Ja’tar asked, surprised.
Zedd’aki squinted. “I can’t see the weaves, but all the runes and glyphs ...”
“I know,” Ja’tar replied. “I saw it when I was spirit walking.”
“My God, that spell is ...”
“Impossibly complicated?” Ja’tar finished his sentence.
“Impossibly complicated,” he agreed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really think we can break it?”
Ja’tar shrugged, “I’m hoping we don’t have to. A spell that grandiose and intricate takes a lot of energy. I’m hoping if we disrupt the flow, the spell will collapse.”
Zedd’aki nodded. We’ll, what are we waiting for,” he said excitedly.
Ja’tar cast his spell again and cut the hole larger. “Remember, don’t touch anything!” Ja’tar warned.
Zedd’aki stuck his head through the bigger hole and somersaulted out, hanging by the beam. He held there for a moment getting his orientation before letting go and landing softly on the floor.
He lit his globe and stared around the room while Ja’tar let himself down.
“This is unbelievable ...” he mumbled. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What are all these symbols and ruins?”
“That would be the old magic I was talking about,” Ja’tar replied, staring out across a room that was filled with writing, floor, walls, everywhere. Only the ceiling had been untouched.
Zedd’aki slowly scanned the room, “I don’t think this place has been visited in millennia. Look at how thick the dust is; even the wood of the floor is decaying.”
Ja’tar hated to admit it, but he knew that Zedd’aki was right. This place has been sealed up for a long time.
In the center of the room was a long narrow table that held a single item, a glowing orb about the size of a large apple. It shined brightly in a dark purple hue that cast an uneasy iridescence about the room.
“You should see this,” Ja’tar said, using his magic to see the pattern of the weave. I’ve never seen anything even close to the complexity of this weave. I-I-I wouldn’t know where to begin to unweave it. I bet I don’t even see half of the strands!”
“I don’t see anything,” Zedd’aki grumbled.
“That’s because you partially unwove the pattern from me. Unfortunately, I can’t help you because I’m not a Spell Caster.”
“A what?” Zedd’aki asked, with a bewildered look across his face.
“Spell Caster. It’s what they called people back in the day who could craft elaborate weaves.”
Zedd’aki listened and heard, but could remember none of their journey or discussions.
Ja’tar walked over to the table and cast some feelers to find out if the orb was protected. He was shocked when the spell was fired back at him and burnt him badly. The orb had retaliated by sending out a shock to the source.
“Damn,” he said, shaking his throbbing hand. “That hurt like Darkhalla.”
“Calling out to the demons for relief?” Doesn’t sound wise right now,” Zedd’aki commented sarcastically.
“So the orb is warded,” Ja’tar said, stating the obvious.
Zedd’aki reached for the orb and got within an inch of it before Ja’tar slapped his hand away, “What the halla are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?”
“I just wanted to see if it was only responding to threats, magic or what.”
Ja’tar was annoyed with his friend, “No more taking chances.”
The chastised mage growled back, “As if you never take chances.”
“I ...”
“You what? Never take chances?” Zedd’aki mocked.
Ja’tar bit back his response. Zedd’aki was right.
Ja’tar walked around the room, trying to decipher some of the symbols and glyphs. The more he read, the more concerned he became.
“I’m positive this was devised by a mage here in the Keep,” he blurted out. “But why would someone do such a thing?”
“I don’t care,” Zedd’aki cursed. “I just want to fix things and get out of here. This place makes my skin crawl.”
“Back when you fixed me, you said that you could only undo the yellow-green lines of the spell. You said they were simpler than the rest,” Ja’tar said, using his vision to view the
casting. He saw the yellow green lines that Zedd’aki had referred to coming from a series of glyphs on the north wall.
He walked over to the wall and traced the pattern with his hands, “I know this spell ...”
Zedd’aki looked over his shoulder, “Means nothing to me. Could be dwarven or demon for all I know.”
Ja’tar tried hard to remember what he knew of the spell. “I bloody well think I can change the spell.”
“Change it to what?” Zedd’aki asked.
“I think I can make it so that you can’t forget instead of can’t remember.”
“Are you sure?” Zedd’aki asked, looking at Ja’tar as if he were daft.
“Not really, but it’s the best I can do.” Ja’tar said, with a shrug.
“You’re ready to risk turning me and the rest of the Keep into vegetables if this goes wrong?”
“I’m pretty sure, that if I change this one symbol, it goes from forget to remember,” Ja’tar said, pointing at an odd eight-sided figure with a cross in the center.
“So what happens if you change this?” Zedd’aki asked. “What happens to everyone in the Keep?”
“I’m pretty sure that only those of us old enough to remember before the spell will be effected. Rua’tor and Qu’entza will probably remember, but nobody else.”
“By the Ten, I’m going to regret this,” Zedd’aki swore. “Change the damn glyph! Let’s get this done.”
He stared as Ja’tar picked up a charcoal stick that was sitting next to the pattern. He rubbed it until it had a fine point. “I’ll change it slow. You tell me what you feel.”
Zedd’aki prepared for the worst. Ja’tar made a thin short line, changing the symbol subtly. “Anything?”
Zedd’aki shook his head.
Ja’tar retraced the line a little darker, and then looked over to his friend. Seeing no response, he darkened the line again.
“Stop,” Zedd’aki shouted, grabbing his head, “I feel ... sick, I-I ... can’t remember the ... wait ... I ...” He started mumbling.
Ja’tar knew what was happening and he drew the heavy line to match the others. He watched Zedd’aki’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body convulse. Rushing over, he caught him just as he fell.
He set him down carefully on the floor and put his head to his chest. Zedd’aki was breathing steadily. Soon he twitched and his eyes shot open and darted about the room.
Ja’tar stared him in the face, “What do you remember?”
Zedd’aki didn’t answer so he yelled again as he shook his friend, “What do you remember?”
“I’d remember more if you’d stop yelling at me.”
Ja’tar clutched his friend in a strong embrace.
“What?” Zedd’aki asked, pushing Ja’tar an arm’s length back.
“Just glad you’re back, that’s all.” Ja’tar confessed.
“Back from where?” Zedd’aki asked cautiously.
“Doesn’t matter. Do you remember the old glyphs and spells?”
“Sure. What other kind of spells are there?” he asked suspiciously, wondering what kind of nonsense his friend was mumbling.
“It’s a long story,” Ja’tar said, helping his friend to his feet.
Zedd’aki looked around the room and let out a long whistle. “You’ve been very busy! That’s one halla of a spell ...”
Ja’tar grinned, “Thanks, but it’s not mine. Do you remember how we got here?”
Zedd’aki hesitantly agreed at first, then he shook his head. “It’s all a little jumbled.”
“Well, no matter. We need to break this spell.” Ja’tar said flatly, jumping straight to the point.
“Break it?” Zedd’aki asked, looking around the room. “How much time do we have?”
“’Till tomorrow morning.” Ja’tar said.
Zedd’aki broke into loud laughter. “You had me going, tomorrow. As if —”
“I’m serious,” Ja’tar said, getting irritated.
Zedd’aki looked him in the face, “You are serious. By the Ten! I might be able to break this if I had a few months, maybe half a year .... This is some evil kind of spell. Who cast it?”
“We don’t know,” Ja’tar said in resignation.
“Can we cut it off from the power source?” Ja’tar asked.
Zedd’aki looked at the weave and rubbed his long beard while he thought. “Maybe.”
“What do you mean maybe?”
“I mean maybe we can do it without getting killed,” Zedd’aki sardonically replied. “Or blowing up the tower.”
“How?”
“We need to put that orb into a special box.”
“What kind of ‘special box’?”
“A very special box!” Zedd’aki answered. “A box of the Din.”
“Can you be any vaguer?” Ja’tar asked.
“Probably. But you wouldn’t understand that either.” Zedd’aki explained.
Ja’tar walked over to one of the shelves, pulled down a medium-sized wooden box, and handed it to Zedd’aki. “Here, make your stupid Din box.”
Zedd’aki sighed and turned the box over in his hands. “It’ll do.”
He sat the box down on at a table across the room from the orb and began chanting. After about ten minutes, he picked up the box and tossed it across the room.
“What’s wrong?” Zedd’aki asked.
“Stupid magic isn’t working.”
Ja’tar snapped his fingers. “Of course, the glamour is still in place. I can’t do old world magic either.”
Zedd’aki looked at Ja’tar as if he were losing his mind. Ja’tar tossed him the journal and walked across the room to get the box. “We need to go!’
“Go where?” Zedd’aki asked, opening the diary and beginning to read.
“Back to the forest.”
They moved a table under the hole in the ceiling and Ja’tar climbed up and stood on his tippy-toes. “I can’t reach the rafters.”
Zedd’aki leaned over the table and braced his arms. “Stand on my shoulders.”
Ja’tar took a hesitant step up and wrestled himself into the ceiling. Zedd’aki took one last look around the room before he threw the box to Ja’tar’s waiting hands, and climbed up on the table. Stretching tall, he worked his fingers around the beam. He did a pull up on the rafter and hoisted himself through the small opening. Ja’tar had already stepped over to the hole in the roof when Zedd’aki poked his head out to take a look.
“I climbed up here?” he asked Ja’tar.
Ja’tar grunted and climbed out the hole and headed back down and into the tower. Zedd’aki stepped cautiously out onto the ledge and eased himself over onto the wall. “I must have been out of my mind,” he grumbled as his leg’s spasms made him reconsider his choice.
Ja’tar closed the window after Zedd’aki made it back. They grabbed their chapes and packs, and rushed down the stairs, hurrying as fast as they could. Ja’tar filled his friend in on what they were doing while they ran down the long hallway. The hall was straight on the way back, no teleporting, shifting, traps or otherwise. They exited the doors after searching the other side to be sure they were alone. They went straight to the front gate and let themselves out. Ja’tar handed Zedd’aki his medallion, which he pulled from his pack after they turned up the road.
Ja’tar froze and cast his spells and wards, checking for wolven, catomen, and spawn.
“What are you so worried about?” Zedd’aki asked.
Ja’tar wondered why his memory was so scrambled, but he explained everything as they rushed down the road. It wasn’t long before Ja’tar was limping again. He bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood, as the leather of his new boot dug into the already raw blisters and bruises on his feet. He cast a spell to soften the leather and make the boots fit better and while he was casting, he made his feet a little more numb.
Ja’tar searched the trees and shrubs for any signs of the spawn, being especially careful of the flying bat creatures.
They
were both short of breath and sweating like pigs when they crested the last hill, but they didn’t hazard to rest and almost ran to the valley.
“I remember this spot,” Zedd’aki said softly, looking around.
“I’ll make a fire and some spears in case we need them, you work on the box, Ja’tar commanded as he took the Whisper Trap out of his pocket and set it down on the stump. “You better take your medallion off.”
Zedd’aki lifted his left eyebrow, but did as he was asked, removed the box from the bag and began his chants.
Ja’tar gathered up some branches for a fire and quickly broke them into pieces and placed them in the ring. He lit them with a simple incantation and then raced off into the wood gathering numerous straight branches from which to make spears.
When he returned, Zedd’aki was deep in his trance casting his spell into the box. Ja’tar could see the fine threads of magic circling and filling the box, changing it ever so slowly into something, well, into something special.
Ja’tar sat down on the log and before long, he had seven nice spears with fine glass points. Zedd’aki looked over approvingly.
“Where’d you learn that?” he asked.
Ja’tar grinned. “A friend of mine showed me once.”
“Nice work! The box is almost done,” he muttered, as he lifted it up and admired his work.
“The spears are done too,” Ja’tar said, nodding at his friend.
“What’s that box going to do?” Ja’tar asked.
“Two things really. First, it’ll allow us to slip the box over the orb without the orb’s protections turning us into ash. And secondly, it’ll hold all the energy inside!”
“Where’d you learn how to make things like that?” Ja’tar asked, pulling some bread and sausage out of his pack. He ripped off a big chunk and passed the rest to his friend who expressed his thanks.
Zedd’aki looked at him curiously, “Your father showed me, don’t you remember?”
Ja’tar shook his head. He had no memories of his father and Zedd’aki ever working together. He took a big bite of meat and then pulled a piece of bread off the main loaf and tossed it into his mouth. He was very hungry.
The Third Sign Page 26