Ekleipsis

by Pordlaw LaRue

  Attentive, all sat to eat.

  MaZak began with a chuckle, “Are you saying my talents are lacking?”

  Smiling, Vandor replied, “No grandfather. I just thought you could fix any sword.”

  “Sure, I could fix the sword if you mean to make its appearance grand, but that would not make its use any greater,” explained MaZak.

  “Take a book claiming to be fact, for instance. Each book has an author and publisher. If the author be unknown, how then can one trust the book? The cover may be nice to behold and the material may look of the highest quality, but can one truly know the honesty of the author or the validity of the publisher until it is read and handled? By then it could be too late; for what if one is taught a lie, most assuredly shall it be passed down and told until it possesses the same authority as truth.

  “What then if it should fall apart even though the best care has been used, shall then the reader blame themselves or shall they acknowledge that though it looked the highest quality, it was but a counterfeit of lesser?

  “So then is the sword. Whereas the publisher’s name is viewed through the artwork and stability of the book, if he were to change the author’s words without right, then the author’s name would be slandered and his truth turned into a lie.

  “As a swordsman, especially named among the Sealed, who claim to follow the King, I am expected to use only the purest material from the King’s own stock. If I were to use a counterfeit piece of lesser quality, whether known or unknown by myself – if by chance my conscience would allow such – would I then remain worthy to be named among the Sealed or yet stay a friend to the King?

  “What if I take one’s sword, known by me to be of the poorest taste, shall I mix it with the pure to allow it to behold the luster of the real only to be frail and useless underneath? Shall I give it to such a one, when knowing that most assuredly it shall fail in battle, therefore sending the bearer straight to death’s door? Would I not be enabling the victory of the servants of Darkness, in as much as I fail to give the King’s men whole heartedly what is proper and has been made especially for them?

  “Dear children, to fix a sword as that which Kayla holds would be an injustice to the buyer, the maker, and the King. If one so desire for it to remain a relic, so be it, let it remain as it is. Yet, by chance, if one wish that it should be converted or renewed to assume the likeness of that of the King’s proper, let it not be so among any swordsmith.

  “By such shall the buyer go away happy, only to be sorrowed in battle. Then assuredly shall the deed go forth unto all the villages as a testimony to the character of the one who forged it. Then shall the one who has done such mischief be placed upon center stage to answer the charges.

  “Would not the buyer then assume that the King himself has sold the swordsmith bad goods and is yet also to blame? Should then the swordsmith take responsibility for his misconduct to exonerate the King’s name, or shall he curse the King and free himself? Let it not be so among the King’s men.

  “So then shall I and every swordsmith obey his conscience and the King’s Whisper in using the pure stock of the King, without the slightest idea of mixing it with that of lesser. Then shall the buyer be satisfied in battle, the conscience of the swordsmith shall not be seared, and the name of the King left unblemished.

  “As a publisher takes the words of the author and but puts them in an artful cover, not daring to change the words, so then is the swordsmith who takes the King’s pure material and but designs it an outward look. In likeness, the words of the author remain true even without a cover, so does the King’s substance without design.

  “The style, shine, and carvings upon the sword do not protect one in battle, but the underlying substance does hold or fail to one’s gain or loss. Do not pick a sword for its looks, for its worth is in its substance. Even as a book’s worth should be judge by its content, so then should a sword.

  “Appearance just makes it easier to sell,” MaZak added smiling.

  Their eyes never moved as they listened to MaZak. The children pondered his words, while glancing between him and the curled sword while he spoke. Not completely able to grasp all of that which he spoke, but the meaning could settle in their hearts to spring forth another time.

  Tindal had never really followed in his father’s footsteps with a desire to become a swordsmith, but Vandor often tinkered around in his grandfather’s shop with Kayla and Rayhold. Nowhere near ready to make his own sword, he one day would be. He dreamed of becoming one of the Sealed and being given a name such as his grandfather, The Bladesman.

  “How is your lunch little V?” asked MaZak, breaking Vandor’s daydreaming.

  As for now, he would have to be satisfied in being known as “little V.”

  Old Enough For a Gift

  MaZak stood and walked over to one of the many cabinets in his shop, while the children finished their lunch. Two rolls made of fresh bread each morning, with a slice of ham betwixt the halves, a couple of carrots, and a drink of fresh water really hit the spot. They knew very little of the candies and syrupy drinks of Trachten, the few treats those who visited the markets sometimes brought back.

  “I have something here for you three. I believe you may be old enough,” claimed MaZak facing the children, then turning back toward the cabinet in his shop.

  Opening the door, he bent over and reached to the bottom shelf taking hold of a wooden box, with King Salvare’s insignia engraved into the top. Made of cherry wood, the box was long and deep, with the imprint of a silver roaring lion head. He took the box and placed it on the table. Pulling a small set of keys from his pocket, MaZak unlocked the silver latches on both ends of the front. Slowly he put his keys back into his pocket.

  The three could no longer contain themselves. They ran to the sides of MaZak with inquisitive eyes, having bread crumbs yet sprinkled upon their clothes.

  “What is it grandfather?” asked Vandor, as Kayla and Rayhold smiled with anticipation.

  “Patience little V. Patience shall get you further than impatience ever will, and it shall indeed keep you from mistakes, which we all wish we had less of. Once the excitement is over, it is lost forever. Would you not like for it to linger but a few more moments?” questioned MaZak.

  MaZak lifted the lid. Inside the box began to glitter, with the sun shining through the window into the crack of the opening. Slowly, as if toying with the three, he opened the box till the lid lay completely open. Revealed were three shiny, silver daggers. MaZak smiled, beholding his work expressly for them. The children were speechless. In the eyes of MaZak, the moment was more than he had hoped. Maybe even more meaningful for him, than the three of whom it was for.

  “My dear children, behold your daggers of Truth,” smiled MaZak, still looking into the box.

  Speechless, they gazed upon magnificent works of art, which shone so brightly. The eye could but squint to embrace the sight. Each blade was seven inches long, with a squared hilt, ending at a roaring lion head. The detail was flawless and the luster incomparable. They could scarcely remember beholding such beauty. The blades were marvelously engraved with its bearers’ initial. None said a word, but looked, wanting desperately to touch.

  MaZak slowly handed Kayla her dagger engraved with a ‘K’ near the hilt. She took it with delight. Holding out both hands, as if waiting to be given a small, delicate animal, she watched it pass from his hands to hers. He handed her also a small fitted sheath for it, with a loop which could be fastened to a belt.

  After Kayla, MaZak gave the second to Rayhold, as Rayhold’s eyes gazed at the sparkle of the ‘R’ upon his blade. Staring at the shiny blade, Rayhold moved it left to right in small slicing motions. He also received a sheath as Kayla.

  Next, MaZak took the final dagger from the box and placed it in Vandor’s hand. Holding it with his left, Vandor ran his right pointer along the ‘V’ as he studied every detail his grandfather had worked into it. Taking also the sheath, Vandor noticed the King’s insignia upon
it.

  “Dear children, these are for you. They have been made from the King’s own substance; iron for the blade, with leather strapped around the grip. I have engraved each to personalize them as such, but remember that is not what makes them do well in battle. I do not expect you to need them today, but I fear that shortly a time cometh.

  “As we live, there are those who will need defending and those who need slaying by the sword. It is true that the marked servants of Darkness, namely the Gottlos, are lost to the Dragon’s grip, but remember grace and mercy toward the common man who is but blind and deaf to the forces around him. He wishes to enjoy the safety and blessings of the King yet desires not to serve him, and in doing so quite often – though perhaps inadvertently – serves the other.

  “Prepare yourselves for service to the King, with thy body, mind, and spirit. Learn his law, read his book, and obey that others may follow. Fear not if you should falter in your honest service to the King, for he himself has said he will give grace and mercy to those who do not deserve it. So must ye.”

  Turning Points in History

  MaZak packed his things for the morrow. He would be going to the semiannual market in the Land of the Seekers. He had been told many high dignitaries and renowned men may be there in Trachten at the current market. He had been many previous years, and knew he must bring his best quality of work with him.

  Tindal, who most often followed his father to the markets, had shied away from doing so in the last many years, since the birth of Vandor. Vandor, now seventeen, so much wanted to go with his grandfather. He asked his father, but Tindal would not allow it, as it was his final year of schooling. Tindal taught most of his son’s learning, and was very much a disciplinarian and believed in following the letter of the law.

  Because MaZak was older, he knew it wasn’t wise to take such a trip alone; especially with all of the merchandise. There could be the possibility of meeting a thief along the way, not to mention needing help to set up the booth once there. So, MaZak’s friend Dartego, a man slightly younger and smaller built than he, agreed to accompany MaZak to the market, as he had for many years since Tindal had ceased.

  § § § §

  MaZak and Dartego fathers’ had fought and perished during the Dark Ages, whereby the self-proclaimed king Judarius put into motion the smothering out of all knowledge of the true King. Judarius had been one of King Salvare’s inner circle, a man to be looked up to and admired, or so was thought. But Judarius had fooled the council and most of Erde, as a thief and a traitor.

  Legends told that Judarius was perhaps possessed by the spirit of the Dragon; many claimed it was his greed of riches, and pride to rule over the Land of Erde; while others believed he was persuaded by the false seers, namely pales, of that day. From friend to betrayer, Judarius turned against King Salvare one night while the King walked among his garden.

  King Salvare was taken by force that night while his men slept. He fought not against Judarius and his men as they came to take hold of him, calling Judarius “friend” till the end. To the present day, no one knows how Judarius was able to sear his conscience to the point of turning against the King and all that was right. Yet, on that night, Judarius sealed his allegiance with the Darkness forevermore.

  Judarius rebuked the King’s words of wisdom before all, and told of his army of Gottlos and Ubils that would slay all those who would not serve him. Judarius claimed if Salvare was the true King, he could free himself. Judarius hung King Salvare upon a tree in open space to cause people to dread him by power. People cheered (because of panic, not joy) as Judarius’ men moved among them causing fright, and demanding them to make their voices heard as if in excitement. The filth of evil had entered the city walls, while the blood of innocence flowed underfoot. The sons of men were weary as their spirits became drunk with fear, moving them to sway in a stupor of wonder.

  The people refrained from speaking out against Judarius. They were partially confused, because the people did believe the King was powerful enough to save himself, yet could not understand why he did not. Why a man as powerful as King Salvare would allow himself to be tortured and hung made no sense to them. Where were his blessed Sealed? Where was his powerful father, Allmachtig, who dwelt in Himmel? Why did the Sealed not fight to free their King? Surely, his father had been given word. Why had he not sent his entire army to save his son from such death?

  It was a sad day in the Land of Erde, for even King Salvare’s men, the very Sealed, held their peace, and most fled for fear of losing their own lives. From soldiers to cowards, overnight it seemed the common. Those who were enticed by the words of King Salvare but never really followers of them, were confounded by the acts of the Sealed, the absence of his father, and easily drawn into obedience to Judarius by the horror of his Gottlos and Ubils.

  Only did a single dove befriend the dying King, staying near till Salvare’s final breath.

  § § § §

  But victory of Judarius over King Salvare was short lived, or so was thought. King Allmachtig did get word, and did move his presence among the people of Erde, though they never saw him. By the power of King Salvare’s father, King Allmachtig from the Land of Himmel, King Salvare was made alive and appeared unto his servants, the Sealed, and many others in the Land of Erde.

  King Salvare spoke of mighty things to come and told them to scribe his words into the Book of Wisdom that the people may know the truth and beware of Judarius’ delusions. He shared with them that he must depart unto the kingdom of his father for but a short while. He pledged to come again and destroy all that which was evil, and while away, his Whisper (an inward voice that speaketh the things of the Book of Wisdom, pricking the hearts of those who serve him) would remain. He promised to return to gather his people to a new kingdom he called New Erde.

  § § § §

  Many called Judarius a devil. No one could recall the father of Judarius, and his mother had claimed she was taken captive in the night and given child by one she could not see. She was as one who was possessed, a crazy woman; therefore, placed in solitude, where she perished alone. The mark was first seen upon her forehead, and thus was why she was given over to solitude away from the people. These things were not revealed till after Judarius betrayed King Salvare, for the King had wished to keep these things secret, so as to give Judarius an opportunity to work among the people without others continuously charging him with the sins of his father and mother.

  Judarius was later slain by Balor, an infiltrator who claimed to be one of the last of the Sealed. It was said that Balor infiltrated through the ranks of Judarius’ men, though never actually taking the mark. Some say he did take the mark, selling his soul to the Darkness, just to save Erde from Judarius’ dark reign. Though his closest friends said Balor never took the mark.

  One may never know, for in the very night whereby he, along with a few of his trusted fellows, took Judarius out to be hung by his neck, Balor and his men were also slain, dismembered, and burned. Although the Gottlos were too late to save Judarius, they dared not let his murderers live.

  At the death of Judarius, his lone heir Galtare took power and was enraged with hate! He burned all knowledge of King Salvare and his Book of Wisdom that he could attain. He killed men, women, and children alike who would not deny the King and swear allegiance to him. Being the son of a devil child, the heir of Judarius, the claim was made that Galtare and all of his children forever were to be noted as the heirs of devils.

  Galtare destroyed villages only to leave the people desolate, so as to drive them into service by fear. Years of knowledge were lost and the Land of Erde fell into dark times.

  § § § §

  But from the midst of fear arose men and women of might and courage, with understanding and truth. They found lost copies of King Salvare’s Book of Wisdom and made haste to get them into the hands of the common people. They uncovered the mining of silver, gold, metals, and precious stones of the King and began to make themselves swords and
weapons of war against the army of Darkness.

  The children began to learn of the things which were once forbidden to speak of by Judarius and his son Galtare. It was the Great Awakening of beaten and torn lives, who had all but given up hope, which burst into a newness of life. New hope sprang forth from remembrance of King Salvare. Beacons of hope, a light in darkness, a new strength given to hurting people, the Sealed were formed once more.

  § § § §

  The final years of Galtare’s life was spent mostly bedridden inside the castle upon Mount Dauthus – the mountain dead center of Oscuridad – for he had not strength enough to venture out. Some claimed he had gone out of his mind, and thus it was why there was a decrease in violence and attacks. Others believed he was merely preparing for another onslaught, which never came.

  At the death of Galtare, who seemed to weaken and live sickly after slaying many people, his sons took charge over Oscuridad. To the eldest Jagare, he gave the central headship of Oscuridad on Mount Dauthus to rule over his ten brothers and their kingdoms. To the north of Mount Dauthus, in order from west to east, Galtare gave unto his sons Hatan, Baitrs, Gniew, Pyktis, and Zolba. To the south of Mount Dauthus in order from west to east, Galtare gave unto his sons Desgosto, Abejoti, Himo, Ahnews, and Begeren.

  § § § §

  It had been less than a full generation since the Great Awakening, and already the people had grown content with their simple lives and easily dismissed the destruction of the smaller villages by servants of Darkness. With no sign of Jagare, many did not seem to notice or care that the Gottlos and Ubils still lived, as long as it did not hinder their lives. Selfish contentment moved people to consider only themselves, and if they were untouched by the servants of Darkness, they did nothing for those who were; lest the Darkness move upon them also.