Ekleipsis (8 page)

Rayhold was amazed, as Onyx
had not so much as twitched the slightest. He held the dagger still
in the air, fixated on Onyx’s palm, not really knowing what to
expect next. Blood still dripped from the blade to the
ground.

To Rayhold’s astonishment,
Onyx’s palm began to heal itself. Even the blood returned to its
veins, as his skin sealed. Rayhold blinked. Multiple times he
blinked,
this must be a trick.
But the stranger had not moved his hand, nor had
Rayhold at any time turned away. He knew for sure that his blade
had cut Onyx, for blood was still yet upon it and drops remained on
the grass.

Is it a miracle? Is this
what he wants to teach me? What a grand idea!
Rayhold considered.

“Do thou now wish to learn
that which I possess?” Onyx posed.

“I…” a pause of conscience,
“But, sorcery is against the law,” Rayhold insisted.

“Only for the sake of
control does it remain. The law is old and the writers are dead. So
let their foolish words vanish with them. Embrace the power
Rayhold, and become a god among men,” Onyx taunted.

“But if found out, they will wish to
slay me or worse, burn me at the stake as a witch or law breaker,”
Rayhold begged.

“Dear Rayhold, have ye learned
nothing? Did thou not see my hand yet heal the wound ye imposed?
Follow me and I shall show thee how to cheat death itself,” offered
Onyx.

So began the relationship
of Rayhold and Onyx, as Rayhold slipped into the desires of
sorcery. Vandor and Kayla seldom noticed Rayhold not being around.
Not that they did not still care for him, but their minds were
fixed upon each other.

§ § § §

Stepping deep into the oaks
and sycamores, Rayhold set down on a tree stump that appeared to
have been there for quite some time. Still solid, the stump allowed
him to rest his weight, slouching somewhat, looking at the
ground.

After seeing Vandor and
Kayla, he recalled there was a girl he saw once in Qualtes, just
south of Nesal, named Cenobia, who caught his eye. Her skin was a
shade darker than his, with large dark brown eyes, and full lips
under her slightly pudgy nose. She looked simple, not outlandishly
beautiful, but appealing to the eye in a most natural way to him.
As if he saw who and how she was, not simply her outward
appearance. He knew only minimal about her, for they had only
spoken to each other a few times over the past months, but she did
stare and smile at him often though. Maybe he could see if Vandor
and Kayla would like to visit there tomorrow. There was clearly no
one in Nesal that caught his eye.

From behind a tree appeared Onyx.
“Dear Rayhold, what do ye sit there pondering?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied
Rayhold.

“Dear Rayhold, why do thou yet lie to
me? Have I not given thee that which thou desire,” asked
Onyx.

“Forgive me. It is but a selfish
thing,” Rayhold looked down.

“Tell me then, young
Rayhold. Maybe I could help.”

Rayhold looked to
Onyx,
of course he can
. “There is a girl in Qualtes that I would much like to see
again.”

“Thou speak of young Cenobia,” Onyx
answered, “and indeed I may be able to help.”

“How…how do you know that?”
Rayhold exclaimed.

“I know many things,” laughed
Onyx.

Onyx pulled an amulet from
his pocket. It was white, with faint swirls of grey running
throughout. In the shape of a rose bloom, two inches in size, it
was attached to a black twine necklace through one of the petals.
Onyx grinned, holding the rose and allowing the twine to dangle,
“Place this around her neck. She will love thee for it.”

Rayhold smiled, holding out his hand
to take it, “This is nice. Where did you get it?”

Onyx handed it over,
ensuring Rayhold of its power. “I’ve had it for quite some time.
Take it. It will do what thou please.”

Rayhold held the rose in
his palm examining the detail; the craftsmanship was of high
quality.
This is
beautiful
.

“Yes Rayhold, it is,” Onyx
replied to Rayhold’s thoughts aloud.

Rayhold looked up, “You’ve got to
teach me that.”

“Not all at once young Rayhold.
Patience and practice,” Onyx explained. “Shall we being
then?”

Trachten,
Land of the Seekers

Trachten was an extremely
large area in Erde, made of mostly desert with little vegetation.
If it weren’t for the Umeten Canal, which ran near the top of the
city, there would have been no Trachten. While the channel was
being dug, workers had to haul in water from the Liban River, which
was later used to feed the passage. By creating the small stem off,
Trachten was able to take whatever it wanted from the river through
the canal, while allowing the rest of the fresh water to continue
onward.

Hence, the name Land of the
Seekers had been used as far back as any could remember. In the
days before the canal, those seeking to flee the Shadow Lands would
often die before they could reach the Liban River to the east. For
that reason, most would dare not try to leave, and often were
snatched into the Darkness of Oscuridad. Instead of trying to
escape, they simply accepted their fate. The small stretch of
Shadow Lands was all that separated Trachten from Oscuridad, and
was full of many unspeakable pleasures.

When the Sealed first
helped build the Umeten Canal, many people came from the west,
being led out of the Shadow Lands across the desert, but the
numbers crossing over slowed drastically with time. Those from the
Shadow Lands began only to go as far as Trachten to wander amidst
the semiannual markets, but no further. They found all they needed
in the Land of the Seekers, and returned to the Shadow Lands with
their desires being filled. They no longer feared the Darkness, as
Jagare had seemingly been silent these past years. And the Shadow
Lands lent them more lustful freedom, than the rest of Erde was
allowed.

Xima was the governor of
Trachten. His family had played the major role in the finance of
breaking ground and digging the Umeten Canal, accepting help from
the Sealed. The city even received its name from its originator,
Sir Trachten, grandfather in the lineage of Xima. He was a very
wealthy, intelligent man.

History told Sir Trachten
somewhat disliked the laws of King Allmachtig and neither cared
much for the teachings of King Salvare, but he also feared the
Shadow Lands and Oscuridad. For this cause he took all that he had
– which was much – and settled in the desert away from
all.

Since that day, Sir
Trachten’s generations have remained there; especially, with the
idea of a semiannual market, which saw thousands upon thousands of
people from all over, bringing in mighty fine revenue indeed. They
remained a family of wealth, claiming never to pledge their
allegiance either to the King or the Darkness. The Trachten
generations proclaimed neutrality, gladly accepting any and all
benefits from both those of the King and those of the
Darkness.

§ § § §

MaZak and Dartego traveled
for days, finally arriving in Trachten. It was a long trip.
Stopping only in Goslet for a night and Salong for another, they
were more than ready to rest a while each day. The closer they came
to Trachten, the dryer the climate became, the hotter the days, and
the colder the nights. They already missed the fresh mountain air
of Nesal.

Entering Trachten, they
still had to travel somewhat a distance to Palvolin, where the
markets were actually held. Due south of Telbaton, central
Trachten, furthest from the Umeten Canal, it was dry and dusty, but
had the most room for all the people. It was also far from the
palace of Xima and the majestic parts of Trachten in Xiacon, where
the prominent lived. Originally near the center of Trachten in
Telbaton, the markets had hence moved more southwest to Palvolin in
the last ten years. Ever so closer to the Shadow Lands did they
move.

They stopped at the same
place they always did, to pay for a room for the week. Most of the
dignitaries and renowned fellows stayed north a good ways at Yoto’s
Inn. Near Xima’s palace, it was fancier and higher priced than
Brocolat’s. Yoto’s had maids who tended to washing, meals, and what
not, whereas Brocolat’s was merely do-it-yourself rooms. Brocolat’s
surroundings were simple and bland, while Yoto’s Inn, being closer
to the palace in Xiacon, lay also among the less godly
establishments of Trachten, which the Sealed had taken oath to
refrain from.

The time of these markets
were an occasion to reacquaint friendships, sell ones goods, and to
peer into the talents and merchandise of others; whereas such would
have been greated restricted, if limited to only their own
villages. But also for many wealthy souls, it was an occasion for
the indulgence of their lusts.

“I don’t know about you good friend,
but I think I’m getting somewhat old,” claimed MaZak, bringing the
wagon to a halt.

“Aye, you look pretty old,” Dartego
replied smiling.

MaZak returned a chuckle.

MaZak and Dartego stepped
up to the old wooden counter. Full of chips and splinters, with
scribbling here and there carved into the surface, it hadn’t been
replaced in a while. The smell of sawdust on the floors brought
back memories every year. Around the way came the attendant. The
total of four weeks a year for these markets was where Brocolat’s
made most of its money. It wasn’t much to look at, but the owner
and his workers had always seemed to be cheery, honest
fellows.

“Hey, Key,” (a nickname for
obvious reasons) MaZak called out.

“Hey, MaZak, back again I
see,” noted Key. “And, I see you’re still hanging around with this
old guy, Dartego.”

“Yeah, someone has to take
care of him,” Dartego replied, smartly.

MaZak and Key likewise
chuckled.

“So, what you got fancy
this trip?” asked Key.

“I may have something you like,” MaZak
claimed with a smile, “but you’ll have to wait till the morrow. We
need some rest.”

“Park your wagon behind the
place, and you can put your horses in the stables. This will give
you more protection,” explained Key.

“Been having problems lately?” asked
Dartego.

“I just don’t want anything
diapearing and you two accusing me. Last trip a guy blamed me for
his trinkets coming up missing. Said his wagon was parked out
front, so it was my fault. Made a big stink, but turns out he was
just lying, so we ran him out of town.”

“I see. You take the guy’s stuff, and
then run him out of town,” MaZak smiled.

“Sounds like that’s what happened to
me,” added Dartego.

“Ah, I can see now this is going to be
a long week with you two,” grinned Key.

§ § § §

Morning came early, but MaZak and
Dartego were ready to greet it. Cricket’s Eatery was the small
tavern next door to the inn, where most eating was done on
makeshift wooden benches and tables outside around the front and
back. One had to make sure not to get a splinter or two. As they
didn’t serve wine and strong drink, it was one of the few places to
get breakfast without having the leftover drunkards from the night
before pestering one for money.

The food was often fresh and the help
was usually very pleasant. The help looked clean and were mannered
servants indeed. MaZak and Dartego grabbed a plate of scrambled
eggs and smoked ham, with a stein of fresh goat milk before heading
out to setup their booth. Goat milk with a hint of sugar cane
delighted their bellies.

The streets were very busy
that morning, with owners scurrying from place to place preparing
to display all of their goods for sell or trade. Seekers from the
surrounding villages had already peered out into the market, to get
the first glance as to what was new. They were eyeing new things
and making deals before the so-called outsiders (anyone that did
not dwell in the Land of the Seekers) piled in. This severely
crowded the village, and kept a constant haze of dust in the
air.

Guards were dressed with
gold-colored chest plates and light blue cloth, with matching shin
and forearm guards, and semi-helmets covering the crown of their
heads. Holding long wooden spears with swords latched at their
sides. They were stiff, muscular men, who stood as statues
throughout the market over the space of a mile.

Anyplace items of interest
and money were found, security was of necessity. They were the
soldiers of Xima the governor, who most humbly required ten percent
of all sales. Plus an upfront cost of ten pieces of Erdian silver
per booth, in addition to ten percent tax already on every business
which was operated in Trachten.

As the day progressed, the
crests of many dignitaries could be seen while the mass of people
grew by the minute. MaZak and Dartego saw many familiar faces of
those from past buyers. They even took notice of some of the Sealed
walking among the seekers. Soon the stretch would be
elbow-to-elbow, with people of various ethnic and cultural
backgrounds, having one thing in mind;
I
want the best item for the cheapest price
.