Jay - Ahern's Burden
The Poem

The Isle of Taq was known for its sheer cliffs and treacherous surf. It had no beach, let alone a suitable dock, and it would take a desperate situation for anyone to reach the top. Small, when compared to the sea, still, the Isle provided adequate shelter for two individuals wanting to hide. A small forest covering most of the estimated twenty acres stuck out in odd contrast against the surf. One rocky peak towards the north rose high above the tree line, overlooking the isle. To the east, a wide meadow proved a perfect location for a garden to thrive. The soil was rich and helped the trees produce a continual variety of ripe fruit.

Over the years, Barclay had built a unique shelter under the stone. On the southern side of the island a natural formation tunneled into the rock, burrowing straight down under the roots of the trees. There, it turned horizontal until it exited a small hole in the cliff face. Barclay had used his tools and strength to widen the hole into a useable spiral staircase. Then, following the natural formation under the trees, he had carved out several rooms. At the end of the space, Barclay turned away from the natural flow and forged his own way to the sea. His efforts brought in additional light and guaranteed a second exit. Jay and Barclay each had a room for sleeping and used another for supplies and a library.

Only the sea-faring men of Drobin knew of Taq. From his stone perch, atop the rocky peak, Jay would watch the vessels sail past from time to time.

Jay devoted most of his waking hours to studying the journals his father left him. This afternoon, however, Jay anxiously dedicated his time to opening the strange box he had collected.

The letter that guided Jay also stated the box would begin a journey and be “your first step to understanding your potential.”

Barclay had promised to help Jay discover his potential but was limited by no fault of his own. Jay needed another sorcerer to teach him.

Jay set the box down and opened one of his father’s journals. He flipped through the well-read pages until he came to a small piece explaining the events that led up to and ended the Centuries War.

An Idol was the title given by the people to a Healer assigned to one of the former six kingdoms. Their purpose was to instruct, heal, and respond to the needs of the people. They were never designed for worship or leadership. They were required to support their family if they chose to have one.

Each kingdom had one Idol, and in time he or she raised a prodigy to take their place.

Jay read hints of a Senior Idol, or Overseer. This individual gave the Idols their stewardship. He, though, had faded from memory, much like Jay’s mentor.

He continued reading.

Before the Centuries War, a king ruled each kingdom. They were not allowed to be from royal blood, neither were they elected, but appointed by the previous king as part of their last official act before they died, or after fifty years on the throne. From the early ages of the known world the six kings respected each other and the other nations’ right to exist. They had open commerce with an established equal, but distinct monetary system. They also celebrated inter-marriages. This harmony ended when the kings began to find different reasons to wage war with each other.

It began when Mati and Chaldry quarreled over a small, uninhabited island, far off the coast between the two kingdoms. The matter should have never escalated. As the years passed, Mati and Chaldry recruited the other kingdoms to join in the argument. Following a dozen smaller battles, war spread and quickly grew out of control. Soon, there were no more allies, only war.

When the fighting began, the Healers came together to find a solution. For decades, they pressed but had no success. The fighting became sore, eliminating almost half of the known world.

The kings had become loathed and the people had nowhere to turn except the Healers. The timing could not have been worse. The seasoned Healers had granted their prodigies full control and the responsibility to establish peace rested on their young shoulders. The newly appointed Healers counseled and decided to take a new course of action. With the world at war, they chose to form new nations. Those nations would need new leadership. They concluded the present rulers were incapable of logic and moved in. They requested that the Kings voluntarily step down but four of the six refused. These new Healers controlled well-trained soldiers, and with these small bands of warriors went about publicly removing the kings, executing two. They then placed themselves at the head, claiming it a necessity until the people could rule and assumed the new title of Idol.

With their limited resources but unwavering support from the lower classes, they established strict laws and ended the war. Many in the middle and upper classes knew what they had done. They petitioned for the people to rise up but were unable to challenge the Idols.

For ten years, the Idols kept the peace and the world began to heal, but the people soon found out how absolute power can corrupt even the blessed. The Idols wanted complete control. And when the majority of the people rejected their claim, those people began to disappear. The Idols united and proclaimed a need to “cleanse the world of false hope.”

During the decade that followed, they abolished the courts, along with most of the freedom the people enjoyed. Small magistrates were set up and they were given control to do as they pleased.

The Idols took a predetermined step back. They ignored the pleas of the people to re-establish the nations and allowed the individual identities and cultures to melt together. The former six nations faded while the Idols grafted them under the unified umbrella of their new subjugated world.

Jay sat back. He remembered more each time he read his father’s words. He often wondered why the Idols turned on the people. Jay also had a good idea why his parents disappeared.

Through his father’s journals and discussions with Barclay, Jay had learned that the Idols were searching for something. Something withheld from them and the Kings. A secret treasure worth more than the combined wealth of the six kingdoms.

Jay skipped to the end and finished his father’s passage.

The Idols did all they could to secure the lost treasure, disregarding the pain they caused countless families.

According to Barclay, Jay’s parents were some of the last known people abducted from the former Koshia kingdom. And according to Barclay, the Idols never found the treasure they sought. He told Jay that the Idols were still uprooting families, searching for clues that would lead them to the treasure.

An old soldier, Barclay had spent many years as a Captain in the Koshian Legion towards the end of the war. Jay’s father heard of his virtue on and off the battlefield and after a lengthy interview gave him charge to protect his family and look after his son if necessary.

As Jay grew, Barclay explained what he could and kept sacred those details until the appropriate time.

After relocating to Taq, Barclay presented Jay with his father’s journals, four notebooks containing direct instructions for Jay. Most of it was history, but there were passages neither Jay nor Barclay understood. Jay had read through each journal twice and found himself lost in their pages as often as he could.

When they returned from the Cyprus Mountains, Jay spent the rest of the day, and most of the night, trying to open his gift. From the outside, the box looked ancient, but its contents would stay a mystery unless he found a way to unlock it.

Jay put down his father’s journal and returned to the box.

“You’re trying too hard,” Barclay said.

“Why can’t I open it?” Jay asked, frustrated.

Because you’re trying too hard, Barclay repeated in his head. “Why not take a break?”

Jay sighed and set the box down on the table, covering it with a small cloth. He rose from the desk and turned to the staircase. Once outside, he walked to his favorite old log and slumped down. The moon hung low and full, and Jay watched the surf dance in its reflection.

“What am I doing wrong?” he said, and he argued in his head long enough for the moon to rise twice as high in the sky.

Barclay joined him and brought him a cup of soup and a blanket. “This is not something you can force,” he said, laying the blanket across his shoulders.

Barclay smiled, leaning against a nearby tree. For more than a decade Barclay had raised Jay as his son and despite their seclusion, the two had not grown weary of each other.

Few could match Barclay’s stature. His broad shoulders topped his large frame, but behind the thick, uncut beard and piercing blue eyes lived a soft demeanor exposed to few that knew him well. He loved Jay and was faithful in his vow to guard him.

“I don’t understand,” Jay said, blowing at the top of the cup. “Why would my father tell me I’m ready if I’m not?”

“Fathers have a way of asking their children to do tasks before they’re ready,” Barclay said.

“Why?”

“For different reasons,” he answered, leaning against a tree. “Your father is not wrong on this matter.”

Jay stared at the steam coming off his cup.

“You will need to venture outside your comfort zone if you want to grow.”

Jay ate a small spoonful and watched the water dance.

“I wouldn’t stress over this,” Barclay said, sensing Jay’s anxiety. “In time you will open the box.”

Jay recalled his preparations and the other books his father recommended he read. Only half of his instructions worked, and none showed him how to open the box. Without the charm, written in the letter, Jay would not have been able to unlock the barrier, allowing him to enter.

“My father would have opened the box,” he said, before shoving in a large spoonful.

Barclay stayed quiet and Jay let the soup warm his mouth while he thought about what he just said.

My father would have opened the box, Jay thought again and again.

When he swallowed, he knew what he had to do. He stood quickly and handed Barclay his cup. He wrapped the blanket tightly around his shoulders and gave him an innocent, ecstatic smile.

After almost slipping down the staircase, he grabbed a lit candle from outside the doorway. Jay carried his light into the library.

“Ignire.”

The twelve candles waiting against the walls instantly lit up and gave life to the room. He made his way to the desk and placed the candle in the center before taking his seat. Leaning to his right, he retrieved his father’s journals. Jay thumbed through the spines and separated the one he wanted. He flipped through the book until he came to his own notes with three bold question marks in the margin.

In his father’s journals, Jay found him to be direct. He never danced around an issue or moved on until he finished his point. Jay’s question marks highlighted a poem. One of several he could recall spread out between the journals. Jay had found the short string of words interesting the few times he read them, but the more he looked at it, the harder it was to figure out why his father would include them.

The short passage began after his father’s description about their kingdom’s court proceedings. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Jay put the book down and pressed on the spine, so it would stay open. He slid the candle closer to get a better view.

This has to mean something, Jay thought, before reading it slowly under his breath.

Explore your heart, X-plore your soul. Plead with the judges, explain your role. Contemplate our moments, teach the young and old. Attitude is everything, teach of the former fold. Indeed, many have wanted, only a few have obtained. Nothing quite compares to someone happy and untamed.

Jay looked over the words again and again, repeating them in his head, but nothing made sense.

Barclay came downstairs to stoke the small fire near the window. He heard Jay read aloud the last two lines and joined him.

“I’ve never heard that before. What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Jay admitted. “It doesn’t go with anything.”

“Read it to me,” Barclay requested, coming into library. He took the chair opposite the desk.

Jay shifted in his chair and repeated the words. When he finished he looked at Barclay. He had his lips sticking out and furrowed brow.

“Haven’t the foggiest.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“If your father thought something important, he wrote it down,” Barclay reminded him. “He never wasted the ink to tinker or mislead you.”

Jay couldn’t argue and looked down to the book.

“In two days since you read your father’s letter, you entered the Hall of Sispo,” Barclay said. “And look what you found. Men have been searching for a way to enter that cavern for generations.” He picked up the box and turned it over. “I would like to see inside,” he said honestly. “I’m positive your father has provided a way. You can find it.” He put the box down and looked at Jay. He watched him stare at the candle flickering on the wall.

“What are your thoughts?”

“Do you think I missed something in the cave?”

“Missed something?” Barclay asked. “What could you have missed? You passed through an invisible barrier, twice, and retrieved this relic. That is magnificent.”

Jay nodded after Barclay’s declaration. He didn’t bring up how he had nothing to do with the barrier vanishing on its own the morning he left. He thought it best not to ask.

“You said the Hall was empty except for the box.”

Jay nodded. “But why is it sealed?”

“Only someone chosen to do so can open the box,” Barclay said, softly. “It’s not going to open for anybody. That much I have learned from our studies.”

The room fell silent and Jay shifted in his seat while rubbing his eyes. What if I’m not supposed to open it?

“It will take time,” Barclay said. “Let’s rest. You’ve had a full day.”

Jay nodded and slid his left hand under his father’s journal. He folded it closed and watched the poem disappear from the candlelight.

Barclay started to push out of his chair. The poor wood squeaked and moaned under his large frame. His movement made the candle on the table flutter, casting a different shadow across the bottom of the poem.

Jay slid his other hand between the pages before they could close and leaned in for a closer look. He opened and closed his mouth and read the lettering again.

“Barclay?” he said, stopping his friend before he could walk away. “Can you read the initials at the bottom of the poem?”

Barclay stretched his back and nodded with a yawn. He leaned in and squinted at the three small letters.

“M.E.P.,” he said, standing up and rubbing his neck.

“M.E.P.?” Jay repeated.

Barclay nodded.

Jay watched Barclay rub his face.

“My father did not write this poem.”

Barclay wasn’t listening. To be fair, he was less than half awake. Barclay walked to the far wall and blew out two candles. He turned and faced Jay when he realized he had said something. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“My father did not write this poem,” he repeated.

Barclay stared, digesting Jay’s words, and his expression changed.

Jay nodded. “That’s right,” he said lowering his head, back to the journal. “My mother did.”

Barclay looked at Jay, his sleepiness gone.

“I thought these were my father’s private journals?” he said without lifting his head.

“As did I,” Barclay answered, walking back to his seat. The moans and squeals sounded off again when Barclay applied his weight. “Read it to me again.”

“You want me to read it again?” asked Jay.

Barclay nodded.

This was the first time Barclay had asked him to repeat anything. His body wasn’t his only source of strength. He also had a powerful memory, and Jay knew Barclay wanted to study every word.

Jay began and pronounced each word with clarity. When he finished, Barclay had his eyes closed. Jay waited for him in silence.

“Have I ever told you about cryptography?” Barclay asked with his eyes still closed.

“No.”

“A school once existed that taught the art of code writing,” he said, opening his eyes and staring at the wall. “Your mother was an instructor.”

Jay’s eyes went large. “My mother was a teacher?”

“At a well-respected school,” Barclay answered. “These words, the way they’re arraigned, they remind me of an old style of encrypting a letter. It wouldn’t surprise me if your mother left you a message.”

“Really?”

“I can’t be sure,” he admitted, “but she was the best at what she did.”

Jay looked back at the poem. He stared intently, hoping something would jump off the page.

“We should get a book on cryptography,” Barclay said. “Tomorrow you should look through your father’s books again to see if your mother’s initials show up in other places.”

Jay nodded. “There are more poems. Do you think my mother left me a secret message?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Barclay admitted. “Even if she did, we may never figure it out.”

“How do you know about code writing?”

“Part of my training required me to decode messages,” he said. “There were different styles. Your mother’s were difficult to break.”

Jay couldn’t believe he found a note from his mother. And the idea he might find other clues made it even more exciting. He flipped the book back to the beginning and started scanning the pages.

“Tomorrow,” Barclay said, placing his hand on top of Jay’s. “We will look through the books tomorrow.”

“Can I look through this book?” Jay asked, with a gentle, sheepish smile.

Barclay removed his hand and pointed his finger into the pages. “Just this book.”

Jay nodded and pulled the book close.

Barclay smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm and again released his chair of its burden. He walked back to the candle he had blown out a few minutes before and touched the wax. “Ignire.” A gentle flame slowly grew out of the wax and engulfed the wick. He repeated this with the other candles before leaving Jay to search out his mother.

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