Ekleipsis (11 page)

“Yes, Vandor, that is why
you mustn’t say a word about it to anyone,” pleaded
Rayhold.

They argued back and forth
a time, questioning Rayhold as he continued to defend himself,
always returning that it was the sorcery which allowed Kayla to
live. They kept reminding him that sorcery was against the law.
Tindal’s father often spoke of it, and King Salvare himself had
condemned such. Rayhold argued it was no different than the power
the seers used, whereas Vandor and Kayla assured him the difference
was where the power originated – from the very hand of God, or the
Darkness which fought against Him. Rayhold conceded that he had
learned it from a pale named Onyx, who made him swear to secrecy
concerning it.

They ceased from argument,
but the discussion was far from settled. Could they tell of the
slaying of the Gottlo without the mentioning of sorcery? If this
was indeed a Gottlo and they told not, what if there were others?
Was Nesal in danger? Surely, they would never be able to leave
Nesal again if their parents found out.

Sorcery was punishable by
death, and if told, Rayhold’s fate would be sealed. Vandor knew his
father was too strict, but Rayhold was his friend. Could his father
show mercy, if Rayhold swore to refrain from such hence
forth?

Many questions in their minds kept the
trip back quiet. They had agreed to keep silent of the Gottlo and
sorcery till they could come to a safe way to approach the subject.
With the burden of knowing something which could not be shared,
their hearts were heavy.

Through all the commotion,
the shadowed figure merely taking notice of the whole event from
around a tree a short distance away went completely unnoticed. Upon
his face was a sneer, having a mind which pondered much mischief
and malice.
Very good, my dear Rayhold,
very good. Fuel the power.

Hope in Signum

Dartego had been riding
north across Trachten to Signum. Pausing for only moments along the
way, he warned those in Xiacon of what had occurred in Palvolin. As
soldiers prepared to seek out Xima in Palvolin, Dartego continued
over the Umeten Canal toward Kirche as fast as he could. This was
much for a man of his age, but the will to save the souls of Erde
from the Darkness moved Dartego to press on.

§ § § §

Kirche was an established
school named after its founder Erdessest Kirche, where the Sealed
were trained in the wisdom and arts of the King and his Book of
Wisdom. It was an enormous castle made of individual stones three
stories high, built in the place where King Salvare’s kingdom once
stood. It was surrounded by a twenty foot stone wall – three feet
wide, circling the entire grounds – with a gate which took six men
to move.

When Judarius murdered King
Salvare, one of his first acts was to clean out the King’s castle.
Most of the Sealed had fled from Signum, so at the death of
Judarius, enraged with malice, Galtare and his band of Gottlos
destroyed the King’s castle. Their desire was to rid the Land of
Erde of all remembrance of King Salvare. Had it been possible, they
would have succeeded.

It was Erdessest who
convinced men from all over Erde to build a new castle in Signum,
for the return of King Salvare during the Awakening. They
experienced a small amount of freedom, per se, to rebuild during
the years Galtare remained in Oscuridad; as if oblivious to the
happenings outside the walls of his castle. Galtare lay sickly unto
death, while the hearts of the people of Erde moved back toward the
King.

Jagare had the desire to
retake Signum at his father Galtare’s death, and was upon his march
toward such thoughts, when he was dealt the deadly blow to his
head. Though the bowman never found, the voices of Erde cheered
nonetheless. Jagare had been silent since that day, with stories of
whether he was dead or merely awaiting a time to resurface carried
between villages, among the breeze, throughout Erde.

Erdessest, already great in
years, fell asleep soon after the completion of Kirche.

§ § § §

Dartego was old and his
body told him so. The ride was almost unbearable. Many times he
felt the need to stop, only to recall the words of MaZak, “The
Dragon has come. You must hurry to tell our families in Nesal, and
warn the other villages on the way. I fear we are not prepared.
Call to the Sealed in every village. Make sure Ciafus knows of this
first. Tell him to prepare for the
Ekleipsis.
Rubicund has
surfaced!
”

§ § § §

Ekleipsis
: Judarius claimed
that darkness would one day overcome and destroy
all light. The name of that day, he called
thus
. True, there was a span of Dark
Ages for the Land of Erde during the reign of Galtare, but that
which Judarius spoke of was a complete annihilation of the
remembrance of all that was pure and good.

Galtare had even claimed
that he brought in the Ekleipsis, but the Awakening had proven him
wrong. His reign brought forth the Dark Ages which Judarius had set
in motion, causing many to lose hope, but the flicker of light
remained. It was but a pre- Ekleipsis or false- Ekleipsis,
depending on the person – merely a glimpse of what could come to
pass. Some used it as proof that a true total Ekleipsis was not
possible, while others saw it as proof of what would happen if
people continued to lose sight of all the King spoke of.

Dartego and the Sealed believed the
latter, and thus anxiously awaited the return of the King to put an
end to the Darkness forever.

§ § § §

Days passed with Dartego
and his borrowed horse growing weary past exhaustion. With Signum
in sight, he pulled the last bit of his strength, pressing the
horse to move faster. The wind blew hard against his bearded face
and bushy brows. Squinting, he could see Kirche in the distance.
His bones ached, his back was stiff, and his stomach growled of
hunger, but the sight of the King’s insignia upon the walls of
Kirche sprang forth life within his bosom. Dartego longed for the
sweet rest he knew he would find once there. The comfort and care
he knew the Sealed would greet him with caused him to will the
thoroughbred to stride beneath him with purpose.

A jerk, a stumble, Dartego
could feel his horse sway to one side. It appeared slow in his
mind, but only seconds in reality. The horse’s front hoof had found
a random hole in the plain, less than a mile from Kirche. Impulse
moved Dartego to prepare for the fall that awaited him. How could
this be but moments from where he needed to be? The horse could not
regain its balance, nor hold up the weight upon his back. The fall
was inevitable. Dartego could do nothing to save himself from
it.

At full speed the horse
pounded the ground, shoulder then head, twisting and flipping, with
Dartego tangled amidst it all. Dartego was beat by the body of the
horse and the ground, as they rolled and tumbled multiple times.
Grunts and moans filled Dartego’s mouth and emptiness filled his
mind, as they stopped.

Dust rose, forming a cloud.
The horse was lifeless on its side. Dartego was motionless, lying
face down with his legs under the horse. The dust settled back to
the ground, mixing with drops of blood.
Shall we have come this far, but to die?
was Dartego’s last coherent thought.

Eyes saw it all from outside the walls
of Kirche, including a few of the Sealed. There was no doubt that
such a fall could kill even the strongest and best riders. Labat
and his two sons rushed in Dartego’s direction. They and their
horses were fresh and moved like the wind, covering the distance in
minutes. They knew nothing of this man but that he needed
help.

Labat, a Sealed veteran of fifteen
years, dismounted his horse as he arrived at the incident. His twin
sons, Falken and Ion, tall muscular fellows, followed suit.
Recently turning twenty, they had been numbered among the Sealed
for nearly two years. Still in training, but had grasped the
teaching well.

They found Dartego mumbling something
they could not quite make out. Shrugging, they worked to roll the
dead horse from his legs. His face held small cuts, but they
worried more about the gash atop the large lump upon his forehead.
Drool hung from his mouth as he repeated incoherent phrases over
and over. They could see his legs look crushed, but were sure
internal problems most likely also existed. They needed to get him
back to Kirche to the physician.

Entering the walls of
Kirche, they were met at the door by the medical team, led by
Nartod. A dark man with grey wisdom covering his head and face, he
was one of the first to come to Kirche as a lad, after it being
built, and was now over the infirmary.

“Dartego,” Nartod looked surprised,
recognizing the man.

“You know him?” asked
Labat.

“Quite so. This man is
numbered among the Sealed.”

Labat and his sons informed
Nartod of what they had seen, and that Dartego had been mumbling
phrases they could not decipher. Nartod then led four other men
carrying the stretcher holding Dartego to the medical wing. They
would care for him as best they could.

Nartod and the four men
managed to clean and bandage Dartego, so he was now resting on a
cot in one of the four bays they had for various conditions: one
for the sick; a second for recoverable injuries; a third for
harsher wounds; and yet another for the least likely to recover. To
Nartod, it looked bad. Considering Dartego’s age and the incident,
it did not leave much promise for recovery. Yet Nartod acknowledged
he had seen miracles before. As such, he would try to remain
hopeful and pray.

Nartod went to leave the
room when he heard movement. He turned to see Dartego sit strait
up. Eyes wide open, “Ekleipsis,” Dartego said clearly.

Nartod was speechless. The
hairs on Nartod’s neck stood up, with a chill racing down his
spine. Dartego coughed and fell back. His eyes rolled to the back
of his head, as air exited his lungs. He went to sleep to be with
his fathers. There was nothing Nartod could do. Unable to revive
Dartego, Nartod ran to find the
Auctoritas.

§ § § §

The
Auctoritas was the Commander of the Sealed, not as
a king would be, but as a commander nominated by the Sealed,
approved by the council, and then voted on by the Sealed
collectively.

There were a few requirements for
being an Auctoritas: He must be at least the age of thirty and be
no older than sixty at the time of vote. He must also have served
as one of the Sealed for a minimum of ten years. He must remain at
Kirche during his time in office (as a home, not physically unable
to leave).

He was to be a figure head
for what was right, not above the people, but for the people. Being
approved by the council, he could also be removed by the council,
due to clear variance and departure from the Book of Wisdom. The
Sealed believed they had one true king, namely Salvare, so none
dared assume the title of such in his absence.

The current Auctoritas was
Ciafus. Ciafus
was a young man in his early
fifties of strong build, with a solid jaw of truth, and piercing
eyes – as one who could look through the lies of another, stand
firm on principle, and remain sturdy in battle. Upon the leave of
MaZak, years ago, he had been given the title of
Auctoritas
concerning the
Sealed.

With unanimous approval
from the council, along with a majority vote of ninety percent
among the Sealed, it placed Ciafus in authority till he either
chose to step down, died, or upon return of King Salvare. He dared
not rule as one above all men, as a Popish, but merely one who
others may look to in times of danger and support.

The Sealed were free to
live as they saw right, as long as by the guidelines set forth by
King Salvare in his Book of Wisdom. They needed no special
permission from Ciafus. He was there not as a dictator or legalist
but to hold the common interest of the King, that the Sealed be not
persuaded to waver from such.

The council was made of
twelve men who were also voted in by the Sealed. As with the office
of
Auctoritas, so were the qualifications
for the council members. Known as the Council of Kirche, these were
the members in alphabetical order: Adevar, Bron van Vreugde,
Ehrlich, Frieden, Fuerza, Langmutig, Odvaha, Pameten, Rakkaus, Usk,
Vitis, and Zavest. Bron van Vreugde was the eldest of the council,
with Adevar the youngest.

§ § § §

Nartod ran the flight of
stairs rather quickly, making his way to the center of the castle
on the second floor. Reaching the council room, he pushed through
the door. Ciafus set at the far end head of the long, thick, wooden
table, with maps and papers spread the length thereof. Sitting on
like-padded chairs, as Ciafus, was Adevar, Usk, Ehrlich, Pameten,
Vitis, and Odvaha to his left, with Fuerza, Zavest, Rakkaus,
Frieden, Langmutig, and Bron van Vreugde to his right. An
extravagant rug covered the floor of the enormous room, with
paintings and tapestries decorating the walls.