Ekleipsis (6 page)

MaZak and Dartego were
making last minute checks, to ensure they packed all they would
need for the journey to the Land of the Seekers, when Vandor walked
up behind them. Wishing very much he could accompany them had
robbed him of countless hours of sleep the last few
nights.

“Good morning,” greeted Vandor with a
small grin.

MaZak turned around to focus on the
voice behind him, “Hey there, little V.”

“Good morning young
Vandor,” added Dartego, facing his direction.

“Today is a beautiful day,” commented
MaZak.

“Yes MaZak, the sun will
shine on us today, and the breeze should lend us traveling ease,”
agreed Dartego.

“I agree Dartego,” MaZak
replied, gazing upward.

All three stared intently at the sky
in a moment of silence.

MaZak reached to place his hand atop
Vandor’s shoulder, “Come little V, I have something for you over
here.”

Vandor’s eyes widened and
his heart sped a little. Leaving Dartego by the horses and wagon,
they walked over to MaZak’s shop.

The building held the look
of weathered-treated wood, yet sturdy, with a large painted sign
over the entrance which read ‘Metal Works’ in bold black letters.
All the shutters to the windows had been lowered and locked, to
keep out scavengers while he would be away. They walked through the
entrance, still open from their gathering last minute
supplies.

“Vandor, you will soon be a
man…if not one already,” MaZak exclaimed, with a small chuckle,
while facing the same cabinet from which he had once pulled forth
three daggers.

From the bottom shelf as
before, MaZak reached for the wooden box having King Salvare’s
insignia atop it. Vandor could only imagine what surprise the box
held for him this time; for the dagger was more than he could have
ever imagined. Still worn on his hip, he subconsciously felt the
pommel lion head of the dagger with his fingertips.

MaZak removed the locks on
the box and lifted back the lid, to reveal something wrapped in an
old grey frayed cloth. Vandor stood still with school boy
excitement. MaZak lifted the item with care and placed it on the
wooden bench, where he did his engraving work. Taking his time, as
before to embrace the moment, he slowly laid back the folded cloth
one layer at a time. Vandor dared not say a word to break the
silence, for this time he wished to embrace the full anticipation
and joy of surprise.

The last fold of cloth was
moved to reveal a masterpiece of the finest craftsmanship. Vandor
waited with awe: a shine that was blinding, with the engraving of a
‘V’ which extended the length of the sword on both sides; a solid
squared hilt wrapped with light brown leather; a double-edged blade
sharp enough to cut frog hair, flowing to a tip that could pin a
tick to the ground; a guard strait across, with a pommel as the
dagger, in the shape of a silver roaring lion. Accompanied by a
leather sheath with King Salvare’s silver insignia close to the
top, these were truly works of art. Vandor was well pleased. His
grandfather was no doubt the master of swords.

MaZak turned his head to see Vandor
staring with his mouth open. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“Grandfather…You…This is the finest
sword my eyes have ever seen. When did you find such time to form
it?” Vandor questioned excitedly.

“Many late nights little V, many late
nights,” MaZak answered.

“I am forever grateful. I
shall wield it with pride,” stammered Vandor.

“I assume you like it then,” smiled
MaZak.

“More so, grandfather. It is the
greatest gift I have ever been given. Even more so than my beloved
dagger,” Vandor grinned with enthusiasm.

“Vandor, use it wisely. I
have trained you somewhat over the years, but there is much for you
to learn. We shall recover the thought at my return. A fine soldier
of the King you may become.” MaZak paused to take a breath, looking
down, then returning his eyes to Vandor, “Do you believe the Book
of Wisdom from the King, little V?”

“Yes grandfather, I have no reason to
doubt you,” Vandor replied.

“I do not ask if you believe me
Vandor, but do you believe that which is written?” MaZak
pressed.

“Yes grandfather, I believe it all to
be true,” Vandor assured him.

MaZak displayed a sign of relief, or
was it satisfaction; it was too quick to tell.

“Vandor, if you believe the
Book then you must believe the King. Though you cannot see him, you
must believe that he is. This sword is made with the King’s pure
stock; therefore, it is rightfully from him to you, to do his
service. You will never be able to wear the King’s armor and be
protected in battle against those who shall rise up against him and
his people if you do not trust him.”

MaZak continued, “You must defend the
King’s teachings against those who oppose it, tell others of King
Salvare, and do your best to protect them from the servants of
Darkness. Even today there are those who know nothing of King
Salvare or consider him but folklore.”

“Grandfather, you have often spoken of
these things. Why do you speak as though you are upon your bed to
fall asleep forever? Shall you not return from Trachten in a couple
of weeks? Thou knowest I believe and will be glad to converse with
you upon your return. I most wish I could accompany you to the
markets this year. If only father would allow me such pleasure,”
Vandor pleaded.

“I fear, that by my
apprehension of too much study, I have neglected needed surety of
your knowledge of the Book of Wisdom, replacing it with an over
abundance of techniques with the sword and stories of my own,”
MaZak pondered. “There must be a balance in the refinement of the
spirit and the flesh.”

“I’m not sure I totally
follow grandfather,” questioned Vandor.

“Um…” a breath, as he felt
the Whisper move within him, “Knowing the art of battle without
belief in the Book of Wisdom leaves one fighting for what? To
fulfill a thirst of blood? No, Vandor. To know the Book of Wisdom
is to know the cause of why we stand and trust the King, giving
reason as to why we follow. It is not merely an outward training of
the flesh, but equally an inward conditioning of the spirit. We do
not fight for the love of fighting, for we are not mere rebels
without a cause. We defend and proclaim the King and his words to
help free those whom the Darkness would love to catch unaware and
consume.”

MaZak paused as if to clear
his thoughts, “I cannot be with you always little V. You must take
what you have been taught and use it wisely. You must desire that
which is right. Against youthful lusts and foolish thoughts you
must persist.

“Do not allow yourself to
be caught up in the pleasures of this world, to lose sight of your
duties and the return of King Salvare. Do not let him return to see
you wasting away in a life of lasciviousness, dishonesty, and
mischief. Hold strong to your faith in the King and his words, and
let not those who despise him cause you to waver. Though you cannot
see him, be still, and hear King Salvare’s Whisper speak within you
from the words in his Book.”

Vandor pondered these
things in his heart as his grandfather spoke. He felt sure his
grandfather knew he much believed the Book of the King, and long
desired to see him and the Shimmering kingdom.
Why did he speak as though he did not know such, and as if he
would not return?
Vandor wanted to ask, but
his thoughts were broken by his grandfather handing him yet
something else.

MaZak withdrew his hand
again from the box, exposing a dark brown pouch with a white
leather tie. “Give Kayla these. She asked me sometime last week if
I would find time to make her some.”

Vandor searched the pouch, “How many
arrow heads did you make her grandfather?”

“There are probably thirty in there,
but tell her I can make more when she needs them,” MaZak
replied.

“Yes grandfather. She certainly favors
the bow.”

Locking up the shop, they returned to
Dartego propped up snoozing against the rear wheel of the wagon.
“Wake up lazy soldier,” shouted MaZak.

“I hear yah, grandfather,”
laughed Dartego, as he opened his eyes.

“Little V, did you hear what this worn
out boot-warmer said?” chuckled back MaZak.

Dartego picked up a stick, “Well, I’ve
got your staff here in case one of your bowed legs give
out.”

The two carried on for a few minutes
while Vandor stood by sheepishly grinning, hoping he would not be
so silly at that age.

They said their goodbyes
and made one last glance around, to ensure all was secure in the
wagon. Hugs were exchanged.

“When I return, I shall no
longer call you little V,” said MaZak. “Ye shall no longer be
little, but a man.”

“I shall await your return then,”
answered Vandor with a grin.

Vandor lifted his hand in
the air, watching them travel out of sight.

Joys for the
Moment

Vandor, holding a ring on
his pointer, rounded the corner. He found Kayla sitting among the
flowers behind her home near the edge of the east of Nesal, as she
often did. It was a pricey silver ring: perfectly shaped with
‘Kayla’ inscribed around it, with a small daisy on each side of her
name. Vandor had also inscribed ‘love Vandor’ upon the inner
circle. It took him little more than a week to consider it perfect,
spending hours on each little detail.

For the moment he just
watched her. The sunlight glistened through her auburn hair, waving
at him in the breeze. The fragrance of sweet perfume gave his heart
delight. Was it the smell of the flowers or Kayla which awakened
his senses, he could not tell. His heart pressed to move him
forward, but his mind held his feet secure to the
ground.

Sitting in a field of flora, Kayla
sang to herself a song that many mothers shared with their children
to ease their little minds at night. Her voice was beautiful to
him. She was beautiful to him. He wished to tell her of his love,
but was afraid to risk such friendship to be left with
nothing.

What if she did not love
him back, could he yet face her on the morrow? No. They must remain
friends. He must deny himself the pleasure of revealing his heart.
Taking a moment to examine the ring,
Oh
how much I wish to tell thee
, he thought
and placed it back into his pocket.

Vandor removed his sword from the
sheath, as he held the pouch of arrow heads with his other hand.
Slowly he moved toward Kayla, careful not to break as much as a
twig.

The closer he found
himself, the more his heart began to patter. Subconsciously
grinning from ear to ear, almost unable to keep himself from
running, he forced himself to hold pace. She seemed most unaware of
his approach, singing and picking flowers, while holding them close
to her nose. Vandor was upon her –

She twisted in swift
motion, raising her dagger toward his chest! “Beg for mercy
Gottlo,” she cried.

It was Vandor who was taken
by surprise, dropping his sword and falling backwards to the
ground. She softly smiled. Vandor felt the warmth of embarrassment
overcome his cheeks.

“The flowers are marvelous
this time of year,” she claimed, while still holding the daisy and
dagger. “They hold a much fresher smell than that of Gottlos who
try to sneak up upon fair maidens unaware.” Smiling, “Wouldn’t you
say, dear Vandor?”

“Huh,” Vandor replied, for completely
reversed the joke had become.

“Oh, do come V and sit with
me a while,” Kayla said, turning her back to him, placing the
dagger near her side.

Somewhat disgusted that he failed to
surprise her and a little humbled by how she had turned the tables,
he moved near her but not too close. “How then were you able to
sense me,” he wondered.

“The flowers gave you away dear
Vandor,” she slyly replied.

“Shall I slay them for tattling then?”
he asked.

“Spare them, for they are but
children,” she answered.

“Shall I grant them mercy
then, only to be spoiled again another day?” Vandor asked, merely
going along; for Kayla often enjoyed this type of play.

“For my sake I ask it,” Kayla
pleaded.

“Then let it be as ye ask,” Vandor
conceded.

Changing thought, Vandor
stated, “I have brought you a gift from my grandfather.”

She looked up from the flowers, “For
me? What type of gift?”

“Ah, it will cost you a fair price,”
Vandor grinned.

“I have neither silver nor gold,” she
admitted.

“It will cost you but a question,”
said Vandor, eager to know how she knew he was there.

“Fair enough. Ask away,
dear Vandor,” she approved.

“I was careful not to break so much as
a twig. How is it that you knew I was behind you,” Vandor
begged.