Tindal had chosen a life of knowledge and learning over following in his father’s footsteps of the craftsmanship of swords. At the first, MaZak wanted much to persuade his son to embrace the skill of the swordsman, but soon gave in to the idea that his son was more involved in learning and studies. It somewhat disheartened MaZak to acknowledge Tindal’s lack of want toward his talents, but recalled the desires his own mother. Had she had her way, MaZak would have been a shepherd instead of The Bladesman, wishing to keep him away from the dangers of being numbered among the Sealed.
Tindal desired to be a master of the law and study of not only the King and the kingdom, but also of the Gottlos and history of Oscuridad. MaZak warned against such peering into the hidden thoughts of the kingdom of Darkness, but Tindal would not heed his father’s wisdom. MaZak knew he could have demanded obedience, but Tindal would have merely found time to fulfill his desires of such studies in secret.
MaZak told Tindal an overabundance of law study would lead to a legalistic view that could cause one to be blind to grace and mercy. He urged an exhausted study of history could create a lack of desire to act, feeling it had all been tried before. Even as taking the Book of Wisdom out of context could cause one to falter into heresy, or become lax in duty waiting on the King. MaZak also knew peering too deeply into the Darkness was not good for a man’s soul.
Soon after marriage, Sorie told Tindal she was with child. He was excited and began to plan out their entire future together. Though, little did Tindal know, his plans did not include what lay ahead for him, his family, and all of Erde. Nor was he prepared, yet he thought he was.
For life is but a journey, and though a man plan for the future, he cannot prepare for that which he knoweth not of.
Return to the Moment
With a loud thump, the door flew open as the wind threw it against the wall. Two men rushed into the home, with the rain soaring through the doorway like locusts. Eslar turned in fright, as the fresh bowl of water in her hands fell to the ground. She froze still. At the noise, the men jerked to face her. Pottery and water covered the floor.
Rushing over to her with his arms stretched forth, one said, “I have the doctor Eslar. Are you okay?”
“Yes MaZak, you startled me,” Eslar replied excitedly.
“Sorry, my dear Eslar, has Tindal returned yet?” MaZak asked, still panting from the weather, as Dr. Toggle pushed the door closed.
“Not yet. Oh, I wish he would hurry,” she sighed, holding her hands. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Toggle. Please see to Sorie as I clean up this mess. She is boiling with unquenchable fever,” Eslar pleaded, turning her gaze to the doctor.
Dr. Toggle moved around the spilt water into the bedroom with Sorie, closing the door behind him. MaZak grabbed a towel to help Eslar soak up the water, and pick up the large pieces of broken pottery.
Within the space of half an hour, two more men arrived at the home. Fighting against the climate, they entered and locked the door behind them. They were soaking wet.
MaZak stood to greet them, “Tindal. Ashvar. Dr. Toggle is here. The time of birth is upon us, but her fever will not fade.”
Tindal felt his blood carry the uncertainty of what may transpire next throughout his body. He removed his drenched poncho, while Ashvar took off his saturated cloak.
“Fear not, Sorie shall live to see her child,” claimed Ashvar, most assuredly.
Ashvar’s eyes were fixed with truth, and his voice quivered not. Neither Tindal nor MaZak questioned the seer, but both held still the slightest seed of unbelief. Never had any known Ashvar to lie, for he was one who was close to God, but faith easily wavers in times of suffering and worry.
Ashvar made his way to the room and Eslar followed, closing the door behind them. Dr. Toggle stood over Sorie checking her vitals and assessing her condition. Patting her face lightly with the damp cloth, he feared there was nothing he could do. Looking up from Sorie’s pale face, seeing Ashvar, he stepped aside. He knew Sorie was in need of a greater physician than he, if both she and the child were to live.
As if Eslar and Dr. Toggle were not present, Ashvar moved around to the head of the bed. One could hear the sloshing of his wet robe against the floor while he walked toward Sorie. Kneeling beside her, he placed his left hand over her brow, laying his other atop her right hand. He bowed his head as the room was still.
Ashvar spoke with his heart to God, words not audible for man to hear. He was a man of prayer, one who communed with God. Prepared from the womb of his mother, raised in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, he had always been a seer and friend of the Most High.
Moments that seemed like hours passed by. Afraid to move, Eslar and Dr. Toggle watched as the seer knelt in silence with his eyes closed. Eslar cried in her spirit for God to grant healing, as Dr. Toggle offered his own prayers to the Father.
MaZak and Tindal remained outside the room, knowing there was nothing they could do to help. Helplessness is not one’s favorite state to be found in, but few there be who escape it. Fighting for prominence, fear and faith – mixed with prayers – filled their minds as they waited. They could not deny the doubt which desired to overwhelm them, but fought against giving it precedence above all else in their being.
MaZak kneeled, hunched over the seat of the wooden chair in the corner of the living area. Across the room in the kitchen, where the bowl and water had been cleaned up, Tindal sat with his eyes staring at the floor between his legs. The sounds of the storm could still be heard through the small cracks around the windows and door, along with the beating upon the roof. As MaZak sent up words to heaven, Tindal’s mind was full of small repetitious prayers of, “Please help Sorie and the baby,” over and over again.
Ashvar lifted himself from the ground. Bending over, he gently kissed Sorie upon her forehead and turned toward the Dr. Toggle and Eslar. “God has seen it fit to remove the fever. The time is at hand. She is ready to deliver.”
Sorie’s eyes faintly opened, instantly renewing faith in the room. Color slowly filled her cheeks once more. The baby was coming! Washing his hands, Dr. Toggle prepared for the child’s deliverance. Eslar was there to help with towels and fresh water, while Ashvar made his way out to be with MaZak and Tindal.
Eslar touched the face of Sorie as she looked into her eyes, allowing Sorie to squeeze her other hand. Sorie’s skin was cool, no longer burning with fever. It’s a miracle, Eslar conceded, a marvelous miracle indeed. Sorie puffed and blew trying to make herself take deep breathes and excel fully, pushing with each contraction.
Little Vandor was about to flow from darkness to light, from the womb into the Land of Erde. Today he would be born among the dark howls of the night storm, but tomorrow he would feel the warmth of the bright sun upon his tender skin. From the safety of his mother’s womb, he would soon be among the forces of good and evil.
Sorie anticipated the precious smile of her son, which somewhat eased the discomforts of her groans and cries through the pain of birth. Dr. Toggle, with his sleeves rolled up and freshly washed hands, held the newborn. With a fresh damp cloth, Dr. Toggle cleaned out the eyes, ears, and mouth of the child. A small cry and then another.
New life: a beginning with opportunity and promise for both failure and success; a desire for wants and a need for understanding; a blessing and a gift.
No one cared for the disarray among the wind and rain of the night. A baby was born. New life had sprung forth. Cheers and tears filled the home. Burdens lifted, fears released, prayers answered; it appeared mercy had been granted. The small room, moments ago filled with silence, was now full of family and laughter.
Sorie, exhausted, beheld her child with sleepy eyes, “My little Vandor Leshing.”
A bond, that which a mother instinctively feels for her baby, was made without thought. She held him close, wrapped in a soft blue blanket covering his body and head, only revealing Vandor’s face and arms. His eyes squinted against the light, with the faintest hint of eyebrows.
&nb
sp; Tindal gazed at his son, so delicate and innocent he looked. Countless things passed through Tindal’s mind, taking in every bit of baby Vandor. There were things that must be done, which must be taught, and made known to be expected. Does not every father ponder these things within his heart, he wonders.
“Shall we dedicate him to God and the King, as it is written in the Book of Wisdom Ashvar?” asked Tindal.
“If you and Sorie be agreed, then so be it,” replied Ashvar.
“We are. Let it be so,” claimed Tindal.
“Yes, father, we would like as much to be done,” agreed Sorie faintly, still looking ever so tenderly at her newborn.
She lightly kissed Vandor and lifted him toward Ashvar. Vandor’s eyes were wide open as if taking in all that was new. MaZak and Eslar stood near the door anxious to hold the child, but patiently waited their due turn. This was a moment of dedication, an important time indeed. A picture, whereby the parents offered their precious gift of life back to God, who saw it fit to grant them as an inheritance.
Ashvar stepped up to the bed, taking the child from his mother’s arms. Lifting Vandor up toward heaven, Ashvar began to speak: “Dear young Vandor, before knowing good or evil, thy parents doth dedicate thee to the great and holy God, thy Creator. It is He who has seen it right to grant thee life, and to Him doth thou eternally owe it.
“To the law may thou be obedient. Love God and serve the King with diligence. Honor thy father and mother, that thy days may be long. Take heed to godly wisdom from those which prove to be wise. Strive to give light to those in darkness. Give service to those around thee, thy kindred and thy neighbor. Shun the teachings and babblings of the kingdom of Darkness and the servants thereof. In all things keep thyself pure, for we know one shall reap from what is sown.
“Long live the King, and long may thou serve him in pure of heart. To God be all the honor, glory, and praise forevermore. Amen.”
Spring Forward a Little
“Come on Kayla. Let’s go to my grandfather’s shop and see what he is working on,” begged Vandor, seeing Kayla sitting in the flowers. She was a true flower child; for she dwelt among them always, like they were her very family.
“Yes Vandor, but give me a moment. I must tell mother before she frets,” replied Kayla, running into her house.
§ § § §
Now thirteen, Vandor met Kayla when they were about seven. Her family lived in Felter, near Trachten, where Tamar, Sorie’s cousin lived. For fear of the Gottlos and all the people during the times of the market, they chose to move. When they arrived in Nesal and found at least one of the Sealed dwelt there, they decided to stay.
§ § § §
Not to be confused with the Masonisti, who often dabble in secrets, the Sealed were formed for the open proclamation of the Truth as pronounced by King Salvare through his Book of Wisdom, and for the protection of the people from the servants of Darkness.
The Masonisti claimed to be a secret sect of the Sealed, but there were neither reference to them in the Book of Wisdom by King Salvare, nor in the writings of the men who held the office of Auctoritas, nor in the records of the meetings of the Council of Kirche. And they are so secret, that which may be known of them, was not by any Sealed or non-Sealed outside of the Masonisti covenant.
§ § § §
The first time Vandor saw Kayla was at his grandfather’s shop. She appeared very shy as she hung on her father’s leg, while he spoke to MaZak. Vandor instantly took a liking to her. She had delicate features with a hint of tomboy. Kayla smiled at him, as he stood there covered in dirt from head to toe, and that settled their friendship with him then and there.
The family was new in the village and stopped by often to hear MaZak tell the stories he often told of the King, the Shimmering kingdom, and the battles in which he had once taken part. Not to mention the swords and such he had for sale. Children loved the stories, and so did most adults.
Many would often stop by just to see his artwork engraved in the shiny blades of craftsmanship, not to mention Reflection. There was probably only one in a hundred or more who could match his quality of work. He was a hidden legend, one well known as The Bladesman of the Sealed of Erde, but few knew he dwelt in Nesal.
Kayla’s father, Tebad, had a sword he had found that was old, which was dull, twisted, and held not a shine. He heard The Bladesman may be able to repair such a weapon, but if not, surely had another ten times its worth. MaZak informed him it wasn’t worth the repairs, because of the material from which it had been forged. Tebad told MaZak he could keep the sword and would think of purchasing one for himself soon.
§ § § §
Vandor and Kayla ran as fast as they could, racing down the dirt path to MaZak’s workshop in the middle of the village. With their hearts pounding and lungs trying to keep up, they embraced the feel of adrenaline pumping through their bodies and the wind against their faces.
Panting as they ran, “You’re slow for a boy,” laughed Kayla.
Struggling to catch his breath, Vandor smiled, “Hold your tongue woman!”
Giggling, they continued neck and neck down the way. Coming to a stop, which was most likely a tie, neither would claim the other the victor. Bent over, with their hands holding their sides, they paused to catch their breath; each looking at the other, with their redden cheeks, grinning between exhales.
MaZak was currently helping someone, so Vandor reached for two old swords his grandfather had, sitting among others in the trash bin of unused, broken, and damaged metals. This was their arsenal, full of antique relics that had once been in the hands of various persons across all of Erde. Their imaginations easily turned these remnants of forgotten possessions into the finest designed weaponry of the King.
Ting! Ting! Back and forth they would go dueling to the death, or at least lunch time. Laughing, they enjoyed each other’s company. Best friends to the fullest, they were nearly never seen apart. If they were, be sure the other was but minutes away and would be along shortly. Vandor saw Kayla as such an interesting one; for she could be the most delicate girl whom sat among the flowers singing, yet fight him using the sword as well as any boy.
From behind Vandor came a small figure from the shadows. Moving precisely, it quickly dashed toward him. Kayla’s eyes widen as she froze for a split second. Vandor, unaware as to why Kayla paused, seized the opportunity, and went in for the strike.
“Vandor – behind you,” Kayla cried, as she took a step back.
Too late! Vandor slightly turned, only to be met with arms gripping around his waist and the weight of another pushing him forward onto the ground. He was struck in the back with the brute force of adrenalin. “Huh!”
Vandor’s sword propelled from his hand as he reached to break the fall into the dirt. Vandor’s forearms slowed his fall, before his face rested upon the ground. He collapsed with the impact of the unknown attacker upon his back and a puff of dust settling on his face, with his eyes shut and mouth puckered as though he were sucking on lemons.
Heart pounding, Kayla ran forward with her sword tightly gripped in her hand. “Ye shall die ye wicked servant,” she declared, pointing her sword toward the attacker’s back. “Release him or taste death by the sword of the King,” she claimed. “Beg for mercy, if by chance I choose to grant thee pardon of life for such a traitorous act. Release him or become as one that goest down into the pit, never to rise again.”
“Hahaha - You are too much the part Kayla,” claimed the attacker. “And you were easily taken Vandor – Hahaha.”
“Ah, get off me Rayhold, you crazy goof,” puffed Vandor, through the dirt in his mouth. He was not at all amused by the grit he now had amidst his teeth, so soon before lunch. He would indeed return the favor at the most opportune time.
§ § § §
Friends for quite some time, Vandor and Rayhold seldom ceased from getting the best of one another. Slightly taller, Vandor would most often claim the advantage, so Rayhold relied on his stealth to avenge himsel
f. Easily would one take hold of the other for fun, but let not a stranger come betwixt the two; ah, or the three of such young people.
Rayhold was of a darker shade than Vandor and olive Kayla. His eyes were pitch black, which varied from Vandor’s hazy brown and Kayla’s emerald green. His head was as slick and shiny as Vandor’s father Tindal, whereas Vandor’s was simple, short and brown, with Kayla’s long and auburn. These three were a true variety of subjects, yet saw nothing but friendship in one another.
Rayhold’s father, Labo, handcrafted all types of leather and his mother, Sycress, was a maker of fine linen. They had once lived in the Land of the Seekers in Telbaton, but claimed to have moved due to the high traffic of people who passed through there because of the markets. They were quiet people, seldom seen or heard, who performed most of their trading outside of Nesal.
§ § § §
It was lunch time and these three were hungry. They thoroughly enjoyed eating with MaZak, as he always seemed to have a new and exciting story to tell. Sometimes he would actually tell the same story with a different perspective, which made it seem fresh and thrilling. Living among the inhabitants of Signum and numbered among the Sealed for so long, he had plenty of tales for the children to hear. There were also the accounts passed down from his father, along with his incorporation of many of the writings of the Book of Wisdom into most all of his tellings.
Vandor looked at the old twisted sword Kayla still held in her hand. It was once the one her father, Tebad, had brought in to be repaired. Pointing toward Kayla, Vandor asked, “Grandfather, why could you not fix that sword?”
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