Ekleipsis (12 page)

Ciafus, Usk, and Bron van Vreugde
stood most serious. Nartod paused to catch his breath, looking into
a group of inquisitive eyes.

“Dear Nartod, this is most
unlike you to barge in when such a meeting is being held. Could
this not wait?” questioned Bron van Vreugde.

“He looks most pale, Bron. Speak
Nartod, what have you to tell us?” Ciafus inquired.

“The
Ekleipsis, dear Ciafus,” said Nartod, almost yelling, yet
breathless.

The room silenced. “The Ekleipsis?”
repeated Ciafus, more as a question.

Nartod moved forward to
gain support from the table, catching his breath. It was not so
much the run, but the thoughts which accompanied him up the stairs
that worked him. He told the council of Dartego and the accident,
how he was brought inside the castle and spoke only one word before
he fell asleep: “Ekleipsis.” He told how Dartego had come from the
direction of Trachten, which was just shy north of the Shadow Lands
and Oscuridad. They all knew of that which he spoke, they just
could not believe it was spoken.

Secrets Revealed

A pounding at the door
awakened Sycress. Her eyes sprung open with the jar of noise. She
rolled over to shake Labo, whispering, “Labo…Labo…Someone is at the
door…wake up.” He was stubborn and deep asleep, not even flinching
at her call. She found his ribs among his chubby sides and poked
them. He flinched awake.

Labo tiredly questioned
Sycress for waking him. It was a little past midnight, most
uncommon behavior. Before she was able to answer, the pounding came
again. Startling Labo, he jumped to his feet, sliding on his pants
and grabbing an odd-shaped black handled dagger by his
bed.

Reaching the door slowly,
the pounding continued. “Who is it?” Labo questioned loud and
deep.

“The council,” was the
quick reply.

This was the Council of
Nesal, made of seven persons. The speaker was Tindal and tonight he
had led the group to Labo’s home, but that was not who they
sought.

The council?
Labo questioned to himself, reluctantly opening
the door. He hid the dagger inside his jacket hanging near the
window.

The first person Labo saw
was Tindal carrying a lantern, but none of the council looked very
happy in the least. He felt the nerves come alive throughout his
body, not really sure as to why the men were at his doorstep. What
would drive them from their beds at this hour, he did not know and
it scared him. Guilty conscience or human nature, he couldn’t help
but run things through his mind to see if he had done something
worthy of the visit.

“Labo, is Rayhold here?” Tindal asked
without introduction or common chat. Straight to the point relieved
Labo of his question if it was he, only to create new fear by the
mere mention of his son’s name.

Sycress heard every word
and hastened to make herself descent before men. She spilled from
the room, directly to the door, before words could leave Labo’s
mouth. “What do you need with our son?” she asked intently, feeling
the motherly instinct of protection overtaking her.

§ § § §

Although Vandor and Rayhold
were friends, less close most recently, their parents were not so
much. Rayhold’s parents, Labo and Sycress, were quiet people who
were hardly seen in Nesal, as most of the things they sold were
delivered to other villages. When they were around, there were
mostly mere common greetings and such without much more.

Vandor’s parents, Tindal
and Sorie, on the other hand, took part in other things. Tindal
spent most of his time in study, teaching, and learning of history
and other topics. He was speaker of the Council of Nesal, so he was
close to family and the council members, but not many others. Sorie
was quiet and mingled mostly with those she had known for years,
but always spoke with the other ladies of the village as
well.

§ § § §

Tindal and the council
seemed eager on seeing Rayhold and not really idle chat. “We need
to see Rayhold,” Tindal demanded, still standing outside the home,
with the council to his back.

Rayhold was now up, peeking
through the crack of his door. He was not really able to see anyone
because of the angle, but clearly he heard his name and recognized
the voice of Vandor’s father.

Fear gripped him tightly.
He pondered a hundred thoughts it seemed. Vandor, Kayla, and he had
agreed to refrain from speaking of the incident of a few days ago.
Had they lied? Had they broken down and told on him? Surely they
were his friends and would not betray him. But what else could it
be, he could not imagine. Their vow kept returning to his
mind.

Labo and Sycress held
Tindal and the council at the door, questioning and reasoning as to
what their visit was all about. Tiring, Tindal stepped up, pushing
his way into the house between the two.

“By the authority of the
Council of Nesal, we demand to see Rayhold your son!”

Labo and Sycress cried
loudly, “You have no authority in our home,” as the council moved
forward anyway.

Labo shoved Tindal in the back
screaming, “You have no authority,” as Sycress backed up in fear,
echoing the same.

Tindal fell forward to the
ground, dropping the lantern. Qad and Kol rushed in, grabbing Labo,
pinning him to the wooden wall with a loud thump. Labo was a large
man and difficult to hold, even with both of them. Nau moved to
keep Sycress back, less aggressively than the others had Labo, as
Rayhold ran from his room.

“Leave them alone. Here am I,” cried
Rayhold, facing them all.

As Tindal recovered himself
from the floor, the two men tightly held Labo and Sycress sat with
Nau near her.

Yanes stood in the doorway,
while Ishbal and Zoac moved to the sides of Rayhold. They carried
shackles, and the clinging chilled the air. Rayhold knew they had
come for him, but stood in place. He moved his sight between
Tindal, his father, and his mother. He could see the anger, fear,
and hurt in their eyes. He pondered the idea of running, but
decided against it. Rayhold’s mind was too cluttered to
think.

He didn’t resist as they
placed the shackles around his wrists and ankles. They were cold,
hard, and rang out a metallic sound when closed. Zoac locked the
chain, connecting the wrists shackles to the ankle ones.

Rayhold regretfully looked
down at his bonds, then upward to Tindal, “What have I done?”
Though his use of sorcery came quickly to mind, his pride cried
out,
I am innocent!
Knowing the use of sorcery now would seal his fate in death,
he withheld from such.

Straight-faced and emotionless, Tindal
replied, “A witness came forth tonight telling us of a surety that
you have conducted acts of sorcery.”

Arguments came both from
Labo and Sycress that their son did not even know of such. Qad and
Kol doubled their strength, pressing against Labo to keep him held.
Nau held Sycress firmly but gently on the shoulder, as she appeared
to make an attempt to get up from the chair. Tindal demanded
silence. Only Rayhold was to speak to the allocation of his
actions.

Rayhold was
silent.

“Rayhold, how do you answer the
charges of sorcery?” Tindal questioned.

“I…” Rayhold glanced to his
father, then a long look at his mother. He was torn between
thoughts: The look of anger in the eyes of his father, and the hurt
in the tears of his mother. If Vandor and Kayla had betrayed him,
then he could merely claim it was used to save their lives and even
the village from the Gottlo, which may offer some chance of
leniency. If they had not mentioned it and there was yet another,
it could pull Vandor and Kayla into the issue at hand, only adding
to his affliction.

Rayhold remained still, as if calm to
the situation, but on the inside he trembled in fear. “I neither
affirm nor deny the charges,” Rayhold decided.

None were too delighted in
his answer, so they did what must be done according to the law of
Nesal. They led him from his home to the bars of silence beneath
the council seat of Nesal. The six followed Tindal’s lead, while
Labo held Sycress, forcibly restraining himself against his desire
to slay them all to free his son. They watched the council take
away Rayhold into darkness, listening to the sounds of the shackles
and chains echoing through the village. While Sycress worried what
would become of her son, Labo pondered thoughts of how to free
him.

One accused of sorcery must
face the council. It was law. They must ask the accused of their
guilt, whereby the accused must affirm or deny the accusations.
Upon affirmation, the accused must be burned alive. If the accused
denied the accusations, then all witnesses and the accused must
appear before the council, to determine if indeed the accusations
were truthful – that indeed sorcery had truly been used or studied
by the accused. If the accused was found guilty by the council, the
accused would be burned alive the same day. If the accused were
rather found innocent, they were freed but limited to the
boundaries of Nesal for the space of six months observation. As for
the witnesses, if they were found in dishonesty, they were to
receive three strikes of the whip – as a measure to limit the
hearts of those would be false talebearers.

§ § § §

Yanes, drawing the short
straw, was the lucky one to watch over Rayhold till morning. Though
guarding, Yanes did not stay down below where the prisoners were
kept. Beside the council room, Yanes sat at a small table and
chair. They were set directly outside the door leading to a short
passageway, which extended down into the earth. There below was a
small hall and three six-by-six cells, for individual holdings of
accused or guilty persons. No one went in or out, except the
council, without the council’s majority permission.

Below the well-furnished
and kept council room sat a basement of filth. Not much more than a
holding place for a couple of days at the most, there was very
little stock put into how it was kept or the environment it held –
not to mention the “serves them right” attitude of people toward
those who ended up there. This mind-set kept most from even
considering the idea of the conditions of such a place they saw
themselves as never deserving to be.

Sitting shackled and
chained below the council seat of Nesal, Rayhold found himself on a
short, poorly padded, wooden table for a bed with two sheets (one
slightly thicker than the other), a cat hole for a toilet, and bars
to hold him in. Being underground, there was no window. The
atmosphere was cool and damp, with dirt floors. A lonely candle,
near the entrance to the waste hole, was the only flicker of
light.

Staring at the floor,
pondering many thoughts in his mind, Rayhold suddenly felt a chill.
An odd puff of air blew out the candle. Total blackness overwhelmed
the basement. Rayhold opened his eyes as wide as he could, but
there was no light to give him even the slightest amount of vision.
He lifted his hand in front of his face, pulling the chains and his
other hand along with it, but was unable to see it as it touched
his nose.

Suddenly, within his cell,
floating mid-air, he saw a circular ball of green light. A glow
came from a solid florescent oval core the size of an egg, with
sparks and lightning coming forth from the center, encompassing it
as if encased in a large invisible sphere. It was beautiful. Its
brightness illuminated more and more, as the axis appeared to spin
faster and faster. Rayhold looked at it intently, reaching out to
touch it.

As Rayhold came into
contact with it, the light became solid green, too bright to
directly look at. Squinting away from the sphere, he then saw it
was held by a dark figure. Instantly, he jerked his hand back, with
the rattle of chains and shackles ringing in his ears. His heart
began to pound with fear rising within him. Fear, but of what he
was unsure. Was his mind but playing tricks? He was alone, and
there was no entrance but from above where Yanes sat. His mind
betrayed his desire of thought, and seemed to close down to merely
a reaction of panic.

“Rayhold,” a voice, seemingly from the
sphere, called out in a deep whisper.

This did not calm Rayhold’s
nerves, but caused more terror to overwhelm him. So much so that he
was unable to move. He tried to search the darkness of the shadow,
avoiding directly looking into the light which momentarily blinded
him. Rapid blinks, trying to focus against the light and on the
shadow did little good.

“It is I, Rayhold. Fear
not, it is I Onyx,” the smooth whisper came forth.

Disbelief and excitement
flooded Rayhold’s mind all at once. He was fully aware that Onyx
knew sorcery, for he had taught him such, but the fact that he
stood before him was quite amazing in Rayhold’s mind. While sulking
in his pit of isolation, he hadn’t thought to use the sorcery he
had been taught. It had never crossed his mind to cry out to Onyx
for help. Maybe it was because sorcery was the very thing that had
him there in the first place.