Vandor and Kayla turned the subject to Rayhold, since they had not seen him. They thought it odd that this was his father, yet he was nowhere to be found. There was talk of Rayhold and sorcery, through the idle chat of those in the village that night. Tindal explained what had transpired earlier in the evening, for it was neither Vandor nor Kayla who had given up Rayhold’s secret. They were somewhat confused, for they believed they had been the only ones there to witness what had taken place. They silently questioned how Rayhold had escaped, and assumed his father had released him before he began to slay the council.
Vandor was grateful his father had been passed over by death. Kayla was unsure how she felt. Frustrated by the council’s actions and with the situation as it were, Vandor and Kayla refrained from mentioning their run-in with the Gottlo and seeing Rayhold use sorcery. They decided it would only complicate the matter, and Vandor was already upset that his father spoke of those things contained in the Book of Wisdom as if they were merely legend. Vandor also noticed how Kayla seemed to appear nervous and most inquisitive about the mark and the dagger.
Vandor pondered many things in his mind. He, Kayla, and Rayhold had met the Gottlo not far from Nesal. Rayhold had used sorcery to slay the beast that attacked Kayla. They had sworn not to tell as of yet, but apparently another had seen and spoken of it to the council. The council decided to apprehend Rayhold in the middle of the night. Rayhold was taken into custody but was now gone, and Labo’s wife Sycress was nowhere to be found. Labo had slain members of the council with a dagger that was a weapon of the servants of Darkness. The dagger, Labo, and the Gottlo bore the same mark, considered to be the mark of Wicked One.
Vandor considered these things, and searched his thoughts for that which his grandfather had taught him through the years. MaZak had told him, one day before the return of King Salvare, the Darkness would rise by the power of the Wicked One and encompass the Land of Erde. He said there would be an increase of the things of Darkness, and a decrease in knowledge and belief in the Book of Wisdom. In one week, he had seen all this just in Nesal: Rayhold had used sorcery; Labo had murdered using a cursed dagger; and his own father, Tindal, spoke as if the Book of Wisdom were merely legend.
Vandor feared his conclusion: The Ekleipsis.
Insight and Understanding
Nesal was in a state of unrest. Vandor walked alone with Kayla, as the village was still alive with the start of a new day soon breaking over the mountains. They held hands and quietly pondered many thoughts, not really speaking audibly to each other as they walked. Indulged deep into their own search for understanding of the recent events, both took turns mumbling a few things out loud. They tried to draw insight and support from each other, but neither found comfort or enlightenment.
Vandor felt deep within himself that something of importance was happening. He wondered if this was the Whisper which the Sealed often spoke of. The writings within the Book of Wisdom bombarded his mind, along with those things spoken of by his grandfather. Suddenly, it all seemed very certain. The Ekleipsis was indeed coming, but what were they to do?
Vandor decided he must travel to Trachten to find MaZak. He figured if anyone could help, it would be his grandfather. There was no time to play the child and simply sit idle by, why even his own father dismissed the wisdom of old. All of Erde was in trouble!
They discussed the matter and Vandor knew he must not let his father know, for he would never allow such a travel for his son alone. Especially now, with the deaths in Nesal, he would be unable to leave. Having her own reasons to find answers, Kayla decided she would accompany him. Vandor objected to the idea, but she demanded to do that which she would.
Realizing he could not persuade her to stay, he agreed they should travel together. They decided to pack light and to leave at once. They believed while Nesal was still occupied with its current issues, they would have a better chance of sneaking away unnoticed.
With the first signs of light beginning to flourish, they were packed and slipping through the trees around the village upon their horses. Never having been there before, Vandor could only go by the stories he had heard his grandfather speak of. He knew Trachten was due southwest from Nesal, but not precisely the correct line to take. Once they reached the Liban River, they would need to ask villages along the way for further directions.
They left Nesal and family behind, headed to Trachten, speaking about what had recently taken place in their lives. It all still seemed but a dream – oh, how they wished it were so – but it was every bit real. They picked up their speed, racing to find MaZak. With the wind in their faces and adrenalin passing from their mustangs to them as they rode, it freed their minds for a moment from worry. Smiles nearly broke their melancholy faces.
Coming near a shallow, flowing creek bed, they decided to pause for a moment of refreshment. They dismounted their horses, leading them also to the water. Vandor’s bay-colored mustang, Korb – a magnificent male – carried a patch of white upon his forehead, a nearly black mane and tail, and dark brown socks. Kayla’s palomino female, Dove, held a glorious golden coat, with bright cream-colored mane and tail, and small white diamond patch atop her darkened nose. Each had raised their companions from colts.
They tied the mustangs to an oak, to drink of the creek themselves. Vandor knelt near the water, cupping handfuls and splashing it in his face. Running his hands through his short brown hair to the back of his neck, he felt refreshed from the beating sun. Kayla massaged a generously dampened cloth around her face and neck, rather than indulging in a full head shower as Vandor had apparently seemed to think necessary.
Staring into the water, Vandor came to his senses and realized that their parents, along with others, were most likely searching the village and nearby forest for them. He had decided to leave a short note to his mother, but left it near her pillow. He knew she would not quickly notice it, but would eventually find it. Kayla had not done the same, for reasons she was about to share with Vandor.
“V.” Kayla softly spoke, facing him as he rubbed the residue of water into his face. He looked at her as she continued. “I have seen one of those daggers before.”
“What dagger, Kayla?” Vandor gently questioned.
“The dagger that Rayhold’s father had. The one with the symbol which your father claimed to be of the Wicked One, and carried by those marked as giving their allegiance to the Darkness,” she replied.
Surprised, Vandor asked, “Where Kayla? Why didn’t you tell me before?”
She explained, “Because it was my father’s.” A pause, “When I was a child, maybe six or seven, I was playing in my parents’ room, when I found a dagger in a drawer near my father’s side of the bed. My mother came in to find me playing with it. She snatched the blade from my hands and gave me a good tongue lashing. She told me that it was not to be touched under any circumstances. She said I was to tell no one of the dagger. Not even to mention it my father that I had ever seen it. Till this day I haven’t.
“But I can still remember the look of that dagger and the symbol, for it intrigued me so even then. I fear now that my own father is but a marked man of the Darkness. Even your father said there is no hope for such, and I fear what that may mean for me, for us, and for Nesal.”
Vandor wanted to comfort her, but with words he could not find. A deeper fear now arose within him. Had her father worked together with Rayhold’s father? Was her father also a murderer? Or, had Labo simply done so because the council had taken Rayhold, and her father had just found the dagger? Was Nesal now in danger of Tebad also?
Vandor’s thoughts were broken by a bright light shining into the corner of his eye from afar. He turned from Kayla, to look in the direction from whence it came. He saw what appeared to be two children riding atop black ponies, but somehow they looked as short as children but older than such. He squinted, realizing he recognized the sword one held. That’s my grandfather’s sword!
Vandor jumped up, as if bitten by a serpent, and dashed t
oward his mustang. He leaped upon Korb, and pulled his sword from its sheath strapped to his saddle. Tapping the sides of Korb with his heals, Vandor moved toward the travelers. Kayla twisted up quickly, saddling Dove and trying to catch up to him. She hadn’t a clue as to what had moved him, but she now saw those he was headed for across the creek. She thought it odd, but was too far behind for him to hear her call to him.
As if gliding on air, Korb and Dove moved swiftly. In no time, Vandor confronted the two travelers. Vandor pulled Korb to a halt directly in front of them, and screamed, “Halt thieves,” pointing his blade toward the male.
The male slowed his pony calling out, “Thieves we are not, but travelers to our homeland.” The male moved the shiny sword he carried across his body, while his female companion backed behind him.
Vandor could not get over how they appeared as children, but also as adults. He felt like someone was playing tricks with his mind. Their height and size showed the age of one nearly ten, yet their face showed aged wisdom of one in their thirties.
Kayla looked past Vandor and the male, taking notice of how the female watched over her male escort. The female had shoulder length blonde hair and soft features. Kayla could see the worry in the female’s eyes, and noticed she wore what appeared to be a long dress or skirt; which she pondered, must make riding a pony difficult.
Sitting tall on his mustang, which stood above the pony, Vandor used his height to his advantage. He stared down into the eyes of the male to examine him. Contrasted to his female companion’s long blonde hair and smooth face, the male had short brown hair with a light beard. Vandor could clearly see these were not children, even though their size appeared to say so. Although small, the male showed no sign of shying away.
This close, Vandor could clearly see the engraving upon the blade of his grandfather’s most prized position, Reflection. The male’s hand was so small against the handle of the large sword. Fear and anger battled within Vandor’s mind - Fear to ponder how such a small foe had come to bear his grandfather’s sword, and anger to slay him for whatever he had done to MaZak.
“How did you come about such a sword?” Vandor angrily questioned.
“It was given me by a man.”
“Liar!” Vandor spit as he drew closer. The stress of all that had transpired made Vandor more anxious and quick tempered than usual.
Tightening his grip, to sturdy the blade, the male replied, “Ney, a man whom saved me wife and me life gave it to me.”
Kayla and the female sat quietly upon their rides, as the male egos battled it out. By now, Vandor and the male both feared the unknown of the other, and were confused by the situation itself. Neither would back down, nor did either wish to proceed to bloodshed.
Finally the female spoke, “The man died saving our lives in Trachten.”
Vandor’s instant pain would have been no different than if the male had driven MaZak’s sword straight through his heart. The words pierced to the depth of his soul. Kayla’s eyes widened, as she turned toward Vandor, shocked by the revelation. It cannot be. The doubt wanted to rise within Vandor, but he somehow knew what the female spoke was true. How he wished it were not.
Vandor’s firm stance slouched. The wind had been knocked from him. His eyes wanted to grieve for MaZak, but he would not allow them. Vandor still questioned who they were, and to what end their savior’s death was brought. He refused to allow himself to believe MaZak had perished, though the twisting and burning of his heart and stomach filled him with anguish.
Vandor’s pain could not be hid upon his face. The male sensed Vandor’s honesty and heartache, and decided to speak. “I am Wiltzer and this is me wife Damaris. We are dwarfs from Hozekan, where our people live. We were in Palvolin, the city in Trachten which be the place for the markets. Around midday, the city was attacked by Gottlos. In the sky we saw that which we have never seen before: a dark creature, able to spit fire from his jaws, which made an awful sound indeed. It could fly like a bird, but was larger than any we have ever known; having not feathers, but plates of armor.
“The people were running everywhere trying to escape the Gottlos, this flying creature, and the fire burning all around us. We, being shorter than most, were having trouble avoiding the stampede of the crowd. This older man came through the midst of the people, took hold of me wife and me, and carried us away from the suffocating smoke.
“This brute beast, having massive wings, landed near us, and we were afraid. Smoke flowed from his large nostrils, and his emerald eyes seemed to draw one in as they sparkled. The beast stood taller that the trees in Hozekan, and each scale looked the size of a wagon wheel or greater. It had horns like an ox and a squeal like an eagle, almost the mannerisms of a man with the fierceness of a lion.
“Riding the beast, which the man called Rubicund, was a ghostly figure that appeared as death itself, but spoke as a man. He wore a dark cloak, and we could not see his face. He called out to the man, as if he knew him. The figure screamed to the man, that the King had betrayed everyone in Erde and was dead. I am not sure what or who he spoke of, but he said that this King would never return. He told the man to submit to the service of one called Jagare, that he might be allowed to live.
“The man seemed surprisingly confident that the cloaked figure was wrong, and showed pure bravery in the face of such a beast. He threw me this blade, and told me to leave Trachten immediately; to go and warn my countrymen in Hozekan. How he knew of Hozekan, I know not, but he claimed it was of the utmost importance that we survive to tell others of something called the Ekleipsis. There was no time to ask questions, so I trusted the man. He saved our lives.
“We knew we were too short to escape quickly, for our small legs do not allow us to stride as far and fast as you tall ones,” he said with a grin.
“We found a hiding place to wait for darkness. The Gottlos have taken over at least Palvolin and have set up an image of this same flying beast, along with a man who stands before it. We heard them speak of leading the people of Erde there, to swear allegiance to some Jagare and the beast, or to be slain. It took us two days to silently escape, by maneuvering around the large army there.
“It took all our monies, after escaping Trachten, to purchase these two ponies. We are on our way to our home in Hozekan to warn our people. To be honest, of what, we are not sure. For this Ekleipsis still seems quite confusing to us.”
Something inside Vandor urged him to trust the male dwarf named Wiltzer; although, he could not recall ever hearing the term dwarf being used or spoken of before. Not even his grandfather had made mention of such creatures in all his stories. Still, Vandor listened intently and noticed Wiltzer had left out an important detail he wished know, “What happened to this man who gave you the sword?”
“The man…” A sad look seemed to show in the dwarf’s eyes, “The man stood his ground. He spoke to the dark figure, claiming that if he would allow me wife and me to go free for the present, he would submit to this Jagare and Rubicund’s control. This Rubicund must be the name of the flying beast but I am not sure of it, and I am unclear as to who this Jagare is.
“Permission was granted with a grin, but most likely the figure was sure we would die there by the hand of one of the Gottlos. Actually, we have never heard or seen one of these so-called Gottlos, but that is what people were yelling, so I assume that is what they are. Ugly creatures indeed: almost like a man, but more like a beast themselves, and equally taller than a man than we are shorter.
“Me wife and me ran with all our might toward an area that seemed the easiest place to hide, with the least amount of people. I glanced over me shoulder, as I saw the flying beast lower its head to draw the dark figure closer to the man. The man stood there unmoving. As the dark figure drew near, I saw the man pull something from around his back, from under his shirt, and throw it toward the figure. It looked like a dagger, which stuck in the figure’s shoulder. The man turned to run, but the breath of the flying beast engulfed him in flames. The flying
beast and its rider then flew away, as those Gottlos continued to kill and destroy everything in sight.
“Oh, we also heard the name or word Ubils, but I don’t believe we saw who or what they were. Have you ever heard of any of this which I have spoken to you?”
All eyes were on Vandor, to see what he would do or say. “Was there another man with this man who gave you the sword,” he said, speaking of Dartego.
“No other man. This man was alone when we saw him, but Palvolin was full of people running and fighting these Gottlos, so there could have been another we did not see.”
Vandor lowered his sword. Wiltzer did the same. Not that there was complete understanding, but a degree of honesty was felt between the two. A willingness to accept what the other had said and to trust, at least momentarily the character of one another, they decided to dismount and converse for awhile.
Kayla and Damaris, the dwarf’s wife, found it most comforting. It appeared there would be no bloodshed today. Both felt they had recently seen enough.
Vandor sat amidst the soft clover, resting his back against a tree with Kayla near him. Wiltzer sat against a wide stump, with enough room for his wife Damaris to join him. Both Vandor and Wiltzer sat with their blades unsheathed at close arms length, a little tense, but both hoping they would have no need of them. All were quiet for a moment.
“What were you doing in Trachten?” questioned Vandor.
“Our people live in Hozekan, southeast from here. Until most recently, we were forbidden to venture from Hozekan into the inner regions of Erde. Our last emperor, Emperor Oviss, who was one of the first of our kind, forbid any dwarf access to Erde outside of the Valtava Forest, which surrounds and hides Hozekan. He swore that any dwarf found past the Valtava Forest would be forever cutoff from the dwarfs, and if they returned, they would die the death. (Meaning death by burning, with their ashes spread outside of Hozekan, to be forever cutoff from their people.)
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