They stopped at another doorway. "Enter," it said.
The door swung open, a bright light spilling into the crude hallway. Jarrett blinked, adjusting to the light after so much time in the darkness.
"Come, come. I will not hurt you," a voice said inside.
Jarrett strode in, trying to look confident despite his exhaustion and trepidation. "I am—”
"I know who you are Jarrett of Risos. I have foreseen your coming."
A wrinkled old man sat in the corner on a wide expanse of pillows. Stringy hair fell from his head to his waist. His rheumy eyes glazed over as smoke billowed in front of his face. Jarrett took a deep sniff. Drougeweed. A strong hallucinogenic reserved only for the highest mages.
"Join me, Jarrett." The old man stretched out a bony arm with flesh that looked as though it might drip off, gesturing toward another set of pillows. "Have a taste of my drougeweed."
Jarrett looked back at the doorway, still guarded by the thing in the black cloak. In the light he could make out a bit of its face. Cracked stone outlined a mouth and one eye. A golem, a servant sculpted from the very rocks of the earth. Jarrett had heard of them, but never seen one. Another relic of myth.
"Are you a Keeper?" he asked the old man, settling into the pillows. The drougeweed tickled his nose, the sweet aroma intoxicating.
"I am. I have been waiting for you a very long time. I am pleased you finally set foot on my island. The others have long since passed. I am the only one left."
"Why have you been waiting for me?" Jarrett asked, his emotions mixed. He was intrigued, but at the same time a deep-seated fear took root.
"Calm yourself, or I cannot read you properly. Your thoughts cannot be a jumble." The old man pulled back his hair, showing Jarrett a head with no ears. "I cannot hear as others do. I must listen to your thoughts. Now quiet!" He reached out, slapping Jarrett hard across the cheek.
Jarrett's cheek stung. So did his pride.
"I have been waiting for you," the old man said after taking three deep breaths, "because I need a successor. You are my successor."
Jarrett's head began to spin, the sweet herb floating into his nose and permeating his body. He relaxed, even though his mind screamed at him to fight back.
"Stump," the old man said, looking at the golem. "Bring me the knives."
The golem, Stump, stalked to a table. With his massive stone hands, he grabbed two dirty, rusted knives. Dragging one foot, he made his way over to his master and handed him the knives.
The Keeper leaned in closer to Jarrett, sharpening the blades against each other. Flecks of rust flew in the air landing on Jarrett's hands. Panic filled Jarrett's chest, but his body had weakened. He’d lost the use of his arms and legs. The old man leaned in closer, brandishing a knife on each side of Jarrett's head.
"Now hold still. This will only hurt for an eternity!" Spittle flew from his lips, riding on his insane laughter, as he sliced Jarrett's ears from his pliant head.
Chapter Sixteen
The Keeper's face swam in a haze. Red waves surrounded his toothy smile, and green goo dripped from his nostrils. Jarrett wished he'd seen that when he first walked in. He might have realized the old man wasn't just burning the drougeweed. He was snorting ground-up weed in his nostrils.
Jarrett never realized how powerful the hallucinogen could be until experiencing it for himself. The pain from losing his ears was negligible. Even more surprising, he hardly cared. In the absence of pain, he found the whole experience enlightening.
He'd always wanted to learn magic. Now he was in the presence of someone who could teach him the magic he'd been too afraid to pursue. There was nothing he wanted more.
Yet something tickled at the back of his mind. A woman. A flash of skin. Moaning. He struggled to remember but could not.
No matter. This was all he'd ever wanted.
"How do you feel?" the Keeper asked.
His lips moved, but Jarrett didn't hear the Keeper with his ears. Instead, the words formed in his mind, almost as if it were his own thought—but in the Keeper's voice.
"I feel..." He didn't know how to describe the power coursing through him.
The Keeper laughed, spittle again spraying from his lips. "Yes, it is how I once felt as well. You will come to love it here as I do. Stump will serve you faithfully after I pass on. You will protect our island and its secrets."
Secrets. Another tickling at the back of his mind. Dragons.
Dragons!
"There are dragons on the island, Keeper! We must destroy them!" Jarrett remembered the dismembered baby dragon.
"I know, my son." The Keeper patted him on the shoulder. "I, too, saw the dead dragon. My sentries showed me the body, and then I saw you. It was then I knew my successor had finally arrived. You will prove your worth to me by seeking out the rest of the dragon eggs and killing them. I will tell you where the man hides with them."