Ekleipsis

by Pordlaw LaRue

  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.

  “Your shadow did betray you, as the sun cast it over my shoulder,” Kayla smiled and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

  Answered, Vandor could do nothing but relinquish the prize.

  Kayla laid down the daisy, which was missing a few petals, to look inside the pouch. She pulled out an arrow head to examine it, “These are very well made Vandor. Your grandfather always does such good work. He needn’t have made me so many.”

  “He said that if you should ever need more, be sure to tell him,” Vandor explained.

  “I am very grateful Vandor. I shall make sure to tell him such at his return to Nesal,” she gleefully responded.

  “He will be delighted to know that,” he acknowledged.

  Seeing the flicker of light against his new blade, Kayla asked, “Vandor, is that new?” while she pointed to his sword.

  “Yes, grandfather gave it to me before his departure to Trachten this morning, as with this sheath and your arrow heads.”

  She reached out, “May I see it?”

  Vandor was delighted she asked and was proud to let her hold it.

  “This is a most fabulous creation V, maybe even his best work,” Kayla declared with eyes wide open, examining every inch of the blade, moving it left and right by turning her wrist.

  “I did tell him as much when he gave it,” agreed Vandor.

  Shifting her eyes from the sword to Vandor she asked, “What of you Vandor? Have you also brought me a gift?”

  Unsure as how to reply – as he had intended to give her the ring, yet had chosen otherwise; therefore already in an uncomfortable moment – he smartly said, “Is my presence not enough?”

  She grinned, “Indeed Vandor, I very much appreciate your presence.”

  Delighted and shocked, expecting a sly remark, he felt his cheeks redden a little, “And I yours’ Kayla.”

  “Vandor, what shall we do in coming years,” she asked intently, looking down at the daisy she once held, missing the petals.

  “What do you mean Kayla?”

  “I mean we have been friends forever it seems. Do you think life will lead us down different paths?” she questioned, again as she faced him.

  The conversation had turned more serious and Vandor felt somewhat awkward, “I…” His mind was full of things to say and ponder, but could he share them? “I hope not Kayla.”

  Silenced for a moment, “Why Vandor?” she asked intently, as if trying to pry something from his very heart.

  His mind clouded over, as if suffocating. Then, by itself, his first thought forced itself free from his lips, “What would I do without you and Rayhold to pal with?”

  Her eyes looked downward, somewhat disappointed, “Yes, we are a fancy trio, aren’t we?”

  Vandor tried to shift the conversation, “I would like to be named among the Sealed, to be one of the King’s army.”

  Kayla’s eyes again looked upward, plucking another petal from the daisy, “I myself have thought as much.”

  “While growing up, we have always said that would be our dream. To join the Sealed and fight the army of Darkness,” Vandor explained.

  “Yes Vandor,” she replied, “but sometimes things we say as children are simply childish imaginations which have no meaning.”

  Somewhat confused, not knowing what she meant, he asked, “What do you mean Kayla?”

  She looked at him with her gentle green eyes. He was drawn in by her delicate face and the glow of sunlight through her auburn hair. He watched her soft lips as if in slow motion, “You once told me that you loved me when we were younger, Vandor.” A breath, as she pulled the last petal from the daisy she held, “Do you feel as such for me now that we are older?”

  His palms began to sweat, as his mind was too garbled to speak. Was this not what he wanted to know himself? Did she feel the same for him, or had he just been too obvious? Was there a right or wrong answer? Was this the right time, the only time? What if he just let it pass by, would there be a tomorrow that was better?

  “I…” He reached into his pocket, looking toward his hand, and pulled out the ring. For a moment he stared at it, and then extended his hand to Kayla. “I made this for you.”

  Dropping the stem she was holding, she noticed the daisies on both sides of her name as it set in Vandor’s palm. She slowly reached to pick it up. She saw ‘love Vandor’ in the center circle, and lifted her eyes to him again, “Do you love me Vandor?”

  Her voice was soft, her look so beautiful and honest. Kyla’s whole essence pleaded to know his heart.

  Vandor stared into her eyes, knowing it was now or never, “I do Kayla. I have always loved you.”

  “I have forever waited for this moment. From since you first told me as children, I have desired so to hear it again,” she gasped. “I too love you Vandor, with all my heart!”

  The fear was gone, replaced with relief and excitement which words could not express, giving way to a freedom he had longed for. Even hearing her say the words was like a dream he would awaken from at any moment.

  “I was afraid you did not feel the same,” he confessed.

  “And I thought it was only a childish crush you had all but forgotten,” she admitted.

  “I often desired to tell you, but fear did move me from saying so.”

  Kay
la slid the ring on her finger, “I accept your love Vandor, and freely give you my heart in return,” she said with excitement.

  Their hearts nervously beat in rhythm. Eyes met, and they slightly bowed toward one another. A pause, as the sunlight glowed between their facial silhouettes. Their eyes closed, as they felt the warmth of the other’s breath upon their skin. A soft moist press of the lips, long awaited, it was a most cherished moment by both. Little more than a peck, but smiles covered their faces. Freshness filled the air that overshadowed the smell of the flowers. It must be love. It was in their tear-filled eyes. I love you…

  Desire for the Supernatural

  Rayhold saw Vandor kiss Kayla among the flowers, as he slipped into the oaks and sycamores around the village. He had been looking for them, but now did not seem to be the time.

  It was no secret to him that these two shared a fondness for one another, but it did seem to hinder their friendship somewhat. With Vandor and Kayla spending more time together, it left Rayhold feeling somewhat unwanted and alone. They never discouraged his fellowship, nor appeared to not want him around, but he began to feel like a fifth leg to a wart hog: simply just in the way. It wasn’t really jealousy, he told himself. It just was.

  For some time, maybe six months or more, Rayhold had secretly been meeting with an individual by the name of Onyx. A dark fellow, though not in skin tone, for he was quite white. Not the Caucasian white, nor the albino, but more the type that accompanied death. He was a pale, with grey eyes, wearing a hooded black cloak, seemingly able to glide from place to place without being noticed.

  Peculiar indeed, but most inquisitive was Rayhold about Oynx. Not to mention his special abilities, as Oynx enjoyed calling his scorcery. Rayhold knew very well it was against the law, but ever since their first encounter he craved to learn more. To understand more of the socalled talents, along with develop the power to exercise them himself. This Onyx claimed all men had, but few there were who dug into the depth of themselves to allow such forces of power to flow forth from them.

  § § § §

  On the night of the full moon, sometime last fall, Rayhold was near the edge of the village. He was practicing with his dagger from MaZak upon a rotten oak stump, when Onyx startled him from behind. Rayhold felt uneasy at first, with a sudden sense of chill in the air. Though slightly uncomfortable, there was an enticement about Onyx which held Rayhold there.

  Is this a servant of Darkness or a danger to the village, Rayhold thought. He did not know, for it was no doubt a stranger unknown in Nesal. He stood motionless wanting to draw first, already being caught off guard. Unsure of who and what, seconds seemed like minutes. Odd, he felt scared, though not, at the same time.

  “My dear Rayhold, fear not, I have not come to harm thee,” claimed the figure.

  Rayhold was still tense, gripping his dagger even more the tighter. Hundreds of thoughts passed through his mind, yet none carried with them any coherency.

  “I have come to give thee knowledge beyond thy wildest dreams,” the stranger continued with a low voice. “Thou hast been handpicked to be given special insight over thy peers, shall thou choose to accept it, of course. Thou already possess the ability, one must only reach out to it and take hold.”

  With little strength, Rayhold responded, “Who are you?”

  “Indeed my name,” answered the visitor, “You may call me Onyx.”

  “Why me?” questioned Rayhold, with a tremble in his voice.

  “You have been chosen,” Onyx returned.

  “Chosen…What do you mean chosen? Who chose me,” Rayhold still questioned.

  “You ask many questions, but do you seek the answers,” calmly said Onyx.

  “What…what do you mean?” Rayhold replied.

  “I mean, do thou ask because ye do not know, or do ye ask because ye want to know?” Onyx questioned Rayhold.

  Rayhold felt slightly confused, “I…I don’t understand why someone would be looking for me.”

  “Are we not all looking for something? Dear Vandor has found love in young Kayla. Kayla has found dreams to come true with Vandor. Yet they scarcly trust one another to share those feelings,” whispered Onyx.

  “Where are thy dreams young Rayhold, and who is it that thou doest have? Do ye not desire to be among the mighty men, among the renowned figures of old? Do ye not ponder the thoughts of prominence among mortals, to be esteemed highly in the eyes of all?” continued Onyx.

  Rayhold wondered how he knew of such. “I don’t even know you. How can I trust you?”

  Onyx replied, “How then may I trust ye, if thou do not trust me,” leaving Rayhold with only more questions circling around in his mind.

  Onyx lifted his arm parallel to the ground, palm upwards. “Take thy dagger and cut my hand, young Rayhold.”

  Surprised, Rayhold replied, beginning to lean backwards, “What…Why would I cut your hand?”

  “So that we may trust one another,” Onyx gave response.

  “How will cutting you build trust? How do I know you will not cut me next?” questioned Rayhold.

  “As thou hast said, ye do not know, for this we must trust. I must trust that ye will do as I ask, and thou must trust I will do as I have said. Cut me, for I shall not touch thee. I mean only to give thou a glimpse of what thou mayest want,” demanded Onyx, slightly changing his tone.

  Rayhold eyed his dagger, but confusion still controlled his thoughts for the moment. This makes no sense. Cut me so we can trust each other. But what does he want to show me? If I don’t cut him I won’t find out, but if I do, what then if he wishes to slay me? What if this is a trick and I am told to my parents or the village? Surely they will be scared of me and call me a lunatic or worse. What if it is true and he has something interesting to show me? Vandor and Kayla have each other. Maybe I could pretend to follow him just to learn what he wants to show me. I could always run and tell people he tried to grab me and took my dagger. Surely Vandor and Kayla would believe me, along with MaZak.

  “Do ye wish to know that which I have come to show thee or not young Rayhold,” Onyx called, with a bit of exasperation in his tone. “Cut me boy, that I may know thou art worthy of such teachings!”

  Rayhold jumped, and walked slowly over to the hooded man; almost feeling moved by another. Most awkward he felt but he could not overcome the curiousness in what this foreigner may actually know that he did not. Rayhold’s palm sweated as he held the dagger as tight as he could. The thought of running was still in his mind. Yet, the closer he got to the stranger, the more he desired to know exactly what Onyx intended to do after he cut him.

  Standing within a foot of one another, Onyx’s deep voice said, “Cut me Rayhold. Fear not, thou will not hurt me. Trust my voice and heed to what it says.”

  Rayhold slowly lifted the blade of the dagger over Onyx’s palm. Rayhold’s arm swiftly moved the blade, as if by its self, splitting and folding back the flesh as it slid across the bare skin of Onyx. Blood flowed from the wound, dripping to the green grass below.

  Rayhold was amazed, as Onyx had not so much as twitched the slightest. He held the dagger still in the air, fixated on Onyx’s palm, not really knowing what to expect next. Blood still dripped from the blade to the ground.

  To Rayhold’s astonishment, Onyx’s palm began to heal itself. Even the blood returned to its veins, as his skin sealed. Rayhold blinked. Multiple times he blinked, this must be a trick. But the stranger had not moved his hand, nor had Rayhold at any time turned away. He knew for sure that his blade had cut Onyx, for blood was still yet upon it and drops remained on the grass.

  Is it a miracle? Is this what he wants to teach me? What a grand idea! Rayhold considered.

  “Do thou now wish to learn that which I possess?” Onyx posed.

  “I…” a pause of conscience, “But, sorcery is against the law,” Rayhold insisted.

  “Only for the sake of control does it remain. The law is old and the writers are dead. So let their foolish words vanish with the
m. Embrace the power Rayhold, and become a god among men,” Onyx taunted.

  “But if found out, they will wish to slay me or worse, burn me at the stake as a witch or law breaker,” Rayhold begged.

  “Dear Rayhold, have ye learned nothing? Did thou not see my hand yet heal the wound ye imposed? Follow me and I shall show thee how to cheat death itself,” offered Onyx.

  So began the relationship of Rayhold and Onyx, as Rayhold slipped into the desires of sorcery. Vandor and Kayla seldom noticed Rayhold not being around. Not that they did not still care for him, but their minds were fixed upon each other.

  § § § §

  Stepping deep into the oaks and sycamores, Rayhold set down on a tree stump that appeared to have been there for quite some time. Still solid, the stump allowed him to rest his weight, slouching somewhat, looking at the ground.

  After seeing Vandor and Kayla, he recalled there was a girl he saw once in Qualtes, just south of Nesal, named Cenobia, who caught his eye. Her skin was a shade darker than his, with large dark brown eyes, and full lips under her slightly pudgy nose. She looked simple, not outlandishly beautiful, but appealing to the eye in a most natural way to him. As if he saw who and how she was, not simply her outward appearance. He knew only minimal about her, for they had only spoken to each other a few times over the past months, but she did stare and smile at him often though. Maybe he could see if Vandor and Kayla would like to visit there tomorrow. There was clearly no one in Nesal that caught his eye.