Ekleipsis (14 page)

Vandor pondered many things
in his mind. He, Kayla, and Rayhold had met the Gottlo not far from
Nesal. Rayhold had used sorcery to slay the beast that attacked
Kayla. They had sworn not to tell as of yet, but apparently another
had seen and spoken of it to the council. The council decided to
apprehend Rayhold in the middle of the night. Rayhold was taken
into custody but was now gone, and Labo’s wife Sycress was nowhere
to be found. Labo had slain members of the council with a dagger
that was a weapon of the servants of Darkness. The dagger, Labo,
and the Gottlo bore the same mark, considered to be the mark of
Wicked One.

Vandor considered these
things, and searched his thoughts for that which his grandfather
had taught him through the years. MaZak had told him, one day
before the return of King Salvare, the Darkness would rise by the
power of the Wicked One and encompass the Land of Erde. He said
there would be an increase of the things of Darkness, and a
decrease in knowledge and belief in the Book of Wisdom. In one
week, he had seen all this just in Nesal: Rayhold had used sorcery;
Labo had murdered using a cursed dagger; and his own father,
Tindal, spoke as if the Book of Wisdom were merely
legend.

Vandor feared his
conclusion: The Ekleipsis.

Insight and
Understanding

Nesal was in a state of
unrest. Vandor walked alone with Kayla, as the village was still
alive with the start of a new day soon breaking over the mountains.
They held hands and quietly pondered many thoughts, not really
speaking audibly to each other as they walked. Indulged deep into
their own search for understanding of the recent events, both took
turns mumbling a few things out loud. They tried to draw insight
and support from each other, but neither found comfort or
enlightenment.

Vandor felt deep within
himself that something of importance was happening. He wondered if
this was the Whisper which the Sealed often spoke of. The writings
within the Book of Wisdom bombarded his mind, along with those
things spoken of by his grandfather. Suddenly, it all seemed very
certain. The Ekleipsis was indeed coming, but what were they to
do?

Vandor decided he must
travel to Trachten to find MaZak. He figured if anyone could help,
it would be his grandfather. There was no time to play the child
and simply sit idle by, why even his own father dismissed the
wisdom of old. All of Erde was in trouble!

They discussed the matter
and Vandor knew he must not let his father know, for he would never
allow such a travel for his son alone. Especially now, with the
deaths in Nesal, he would be unable to leave. Having her own
reasons to find answers, Kayla decided she would accompany him.
Vandor objected to the idea, but she demanded to do that which she
would.

Realizing he could not
persuade her to stay, he agreed they should travel together. They
decided to pack light and to leave at once. They believed while
Nesal was still occupied with its current issues, they would have a
better chance of sneaking away unnoticed.

With the first signs of
light beginning to flourish, they were packed and slipping through
the trees around the village upon their horses. Never having been
there before, Vandor could only go by the stories he had heard his
grandfather speak of. He knew Trachten was due southwest from
Nesal, but not precisely the correct line to take. Once they
reached the Liban River, they would need to ask villages along the
way for further directions.

They left Nesal and family
behind, headed to Trachten, speaking about what had recently taken
place in their lives. It all still seemed but a dream – oh, how
they wished it were so – but it was every bit real. They picked up
their speed, racing to find MaZak. With the wind in their faces and
adrenalin passing from their mustangs to them as they rode, it
freed their minds for a moment from worry. Smiles nearly broke
their melancholy faces.

Coming near a shallow,
flowing creek bed, they decided to pause for a moment of
refreshment. They dismounted their horses, leading them also to the
water. Vandor’s bay-colored mustang, Korb – a magnificent male –
carried a patch of white upon his forehead, a nearly black mane and
tail, and dark brown socks. Kayla’s palomino female, Dove, held a
glorious golden coat, with bright cream-colored mane and tail, and
small white diamond patch atop her darkened nose. Each had raised
their companions from colts.

They tied the mustangs to
an oak, to drink of the creek themselves. Vandor knelt near the
water, cupping handfuls and splashing it in his face. Running his
hands through his short brown hair to the back of his neck, he felt
refreshed from the beating sun. Kayla massaged a generously
dampened cloth around her face and neck, rather than indulging in a
full head shower as Vandor had apparently seemed to think
necessary.

Staring into the water,
Vandor came to his senses and realized that their parents, along
with others, were most likely searching the village and nearby
forest for them. He had decided to leave a short note to his
mother, but left it near her pillow. He knew she would not quickly
notice it, but would eventually find it. Kayla had not done the
same, for reasons she was about to share with Vandor.

“V.” Kayla softly spoke, facing him as
he rubbed the residue of water into his face. He looked at her as
she continued. “I have seen one of those daggers
before.”

“What dagger, Kayla?”
Vandor gently questioned.

“The dagger that Rayhold’s father had.
The one with the symbol which your father claimed to be of the
Wicked One, and carried by those marked as giving their allegiance
to the Darkness,” she replied.

Surprised, Vandor asked, “Where Kayla?
Why didn’t you tell me before?”

She explained, “Because it
was my father’s.” A pause, “When I was a child, maybe six or seven,
I was playing in my parents’ room, when I found a dagger in a
drawer near my father’s side of the bed. My mother came in to find
me playing with it. She snatched the blade from my hands and gave
me a good tongue lashing. She told me that it was not to be touched
under any circumstances. She said I was to tell no one of the
dagger. Not even to mention it my father that I had ever seen it.
Till this day I haven’t.

“But I can still remember the look of
that dagger and the symbol, for it intrigued me so even then. I
fear now that my own father is but a marked man of the Darkness.
Even your father said there is no hope for such, and I fear what
that may mean for me, for us, and for Nesal.”

Vandor wanted to comfort
her, but with words he could not find. A deeper fear now arose
within him. Had her father worked together with Rayhold’s father?
Was her father also a murderer? Or, had Labo simply done so because
the council had taken Rayhold, and her father had just found the
dagger? Was Nesal now in danger of Tebad also?

Vandor’s thoughts were
broken by a bright light shining into the corner of his eye from
afar. He turned from Kayla, to look in the direction from whence it
came. He saw what appeared to be two children riding atop black
ponies, but somehow they looked as short as children but older than
such. He squinted, realizing he recognized the sword one
held.
That’s my grandfather’s
sword!

Vandor jumped up, as if
bitten by a serpent, and dashed toward his mustang. He leaped upon
Korb, and pulled his sword from its sheath strapped to his saddle.
Tapping the sides of Korb with his heals, Vandor moved toward the
travelers. Kayla twisted up quickly, saddling Dove and trying to
catch up to him. She hadn’t a clue as to what had moved him, but
she now saw those he was headed for across the creek. She thought
it odd, but was too far behind for him to hear her call to
him.

As if gliding on air, Korb and Dove
moved swiftly. In no time, Vandor confronted the two travelers.
Vandor pulled Korb to a halt directly in front of them, and
screamed, “Halt thieves,” pointing his blade toward the
male.

The male slowed his pony
calling out, “Thieves we are not, but travelers to our homeland.”
The male moved the shiny sword he carried across his body, while
his female companion backed behind him.

Vandor could not get over
how they appeared as children, but also as adults. He felt like
someone was playing tricks with his mind. Their height and size
showed the age of one nearly ten, yet their face showed aged wisdom
of one in their thirties.

Kayla looked past Vandor
and the male, taking notice of how the female watched over her male
escort. The female had shoulder length blonde hair and soft
features. Kayla could see the worry in the female’s eyes, and
noticed she wore what appeared to be a long dress or skirt; which
she pondered, must make riding a pony difficult.

Sitting tall on his mustang, which
stood above the pony, Vandor used his height to his advantage. He
stared down into the eyes of the male to examine him. Contrasted to
his female companion’s long blonde hair and smooth face, the male
had short brown hair with a light beard. Vandor could clearly see
these were not children, even though their size appeared to say so.
Although small, the male showed no sign of shying away.

This close, Vandor could
clearly see the engraving upon the blade of his grandfather’s most
prized position, Reflection. The male’s hand was so small against
the handle of the large sword. Fear and anger battled within
Vandor’s mind - Fear to ponder how such a small foe had come to
bear his grandfather’s sword, and anger to slay him for whatever he
had done to MaZak.

“How did you come about such a sword?”
Vandor angrily questioned.

“It was given me by a man.”

“Liar!” Vandor spit as he drew closer.
The stress of all that had transpired made Vandor more anxious and
quick tempered than usual.

Tightening his grip, to
sturdy the blade, the male replied, “Ney, a man whom saved me wife
and me life gave it to me.”

Kayla and the female sat
quietly upon their rides, as the male egos battled it out. By now,
Vandor and the male both feared the unknown of the other, and were
confused by the situation itself. Neither would back down, nor did
either wish to proceed to bloodshed.

Finally the female spoke, “The man
died saving our lives in Trachten.”

Vandor’s instant pain would
have been no different than if the male had driven MaZak’s sword
straight through his heart. The words pierced to the depth of his
soul. Kayla’s eyes widened, as she turned toward Vandor, shocked by
the revelation.
It cannot
be
. The doubt wanted to rise within Vandor,
but he somehow knew what the female spoke was true. How he wished
it were not.

Vandor’s firm stance
slouched. The wind had been knocked from him. His eyes wanted to
grieve for MaZak, but he would not allow them. Vandor still
questioned who they were, and to what end their savior’s death was
brought. He refused to allow himself to believe MaZak had perished,
though the twisting and burning of his heart and stomach filled him
with anguish.

Vandor’s pain could not be
hid upon his face. The male sensed Vandor’s honesty and heartache,
and decided to speak. “I am Wiltzer and this is me wife Damaris. We
are dwarfs from Hozekan, where our people live. We were in
Palvolin, the city in Trachten which be the place for the markets.
Around midday, the city was attacked by Gottlos. In the sky we saw
that which we have never seen before: a dark creature, able to spit
fire from his jaws, which made an awful sound indeed. It could fly
like a bird, but was larger than any we have ever known; having not
feathers, but plates of armor.

“The people were running
everywhere trying to escape the Gottlos, this flying creature, and
the fire burning all around us. We, being shorter than most, were
having trouble avoiding the stampede of the crowd. This older man
came through the midst of the people, took hold of me wife and me,
and carried us away from the suffocating smoke.

“This brute beast, having
massive wings, landed near us, and we were afraid. Smoke flowed
from his large nostrils, and his emerald eyes seemed to draw one in
as they sparkled. The beast stood taller that the trees in Hozekan,
and each scale looked the size of a wagon wheel or greater. It had
horns like an ox and a squeal like an eagle, almost the mannerisms
of a man with the fierceness of a lion.

“Riding the beast, which
the man called Rubicund, was a ghostly figure that appeared as
death itself, but spoke as a man. He wore a dark cloak, and we
could not see his face. He called out to the man, as if he knew
him. The figure screamed to the man, that the King had betrayed
everyone in Erde and was dead. I am not sure what or who he spoke
of, but he said that this King would never return. He told the man
to submit to the service of one called Jagare, that he might be
allowed to live.

“The man seemed
surprisingly confident that the cloaked figure was wrong, and
showed pure bravery in the face of such a beast. He threw me this
blade, and told me to leave Trachten immediately; to go and warn my
countrymen in Hozekan. How he knew of Hozekan, I know not, but he
claimed it was of the utmost importance that we survive to tell
others of something called the Ekleipsis. There was no time to ask
questions, so I trusted the man. He saved our lives.