Ekleipsis Read online

  Pausing, he reached his arms toward the tables, “Sit my brothers, tonight we meet for the purpose of a new order for the Land of Erde.”

  As they took their seats, he moved to his place at the head of the tables, facing the direction of the entrance from whence he had come.

  While the brothers sat, Jagare stood at the forefront. “My brothers, I am Jagare the eldest son of Galtare, son of Judarius, heir of the Darkness, slayer of the old king of Erde, and am hereby worthy to be called king of all of Erde!”

  His eyes peered from side to side, taking notice of his brothers’ countenances as he continued. “To this end have I called you here. To this end will I rise to power and slay all who oppose me. I shall be their master and I shall be a god unto them. Ye shall be my horsemen as all in Erde bow the knee to King Jagare!”

  With no cheers, only silence, Jagare asked, “What say ye?”

  The stillness at the tables was broken by Desgosto, the second born. He stood to face Jagare, equal in height but slightly broader. Talking with his hands, the tight brass wrist bands caused his forearms to bulge. “Brother Jagare, what is this that you speak? Why cannot Erde be broken into eleven kingdoms for us all?”

  A few mumbled comments of agreement came from the twins, Baitrs and Begeren, but all else were quiet.

  “What right do you have for all of Erde that we do not all share, being all sons of Galtare and sons of Judarius?” Desgosto asked, making eye contact with all of his brothers, and then returning to Jagare.

  “Dear Desgosto, my brother. What have you done worthy of an inheritance of Erde? Have you not sat in your castle as a spoiled child doing nothing? Did you avenge the attempt on my life? You have but lived off of my power and might, and there shall you remain,” calmly but firm, replied Jagare.

  Pointing fiercely at Jagare, Desgosto claimed, “A lie! I have asked you for nothing and shall never ask you for anything! You were yet vile to us as children, and here remain one that thinks he is above all.” Desgosto’s voice and blood pressure rose, as the thoughts of childhood and the years of hate of his brother Jagare, bottled up inside, began to release themselves all at once. “We have allowed you the rule you hold, but I am afraid of you no more. You are but a brute beast!”

  Tension built in the room. The brothers held still with silence, glancing back and forth between the stares of Jagare and Desgosto. This was not the first argument they had seen between brothers, but it had been many years since one had been brave enough to challenge Jagare directly. It was by this means that Gniew bore the scar on his face from the angered slash of a blackened dagger from Jagare, and the loss of Pyktis’ little finger by the same dagger and fierceness of Jagare. These two remained silent: Gniew subconsciously touched his scar, while Pyktis looked down at his left hand.

  “Dear Desgosto, do you despise that which you have been given? Do you believe you merit more? By chance, do you hold the notion that you should be king of Erde, with me and your brothers as your servants?” questioned Jagare.

  “Your words are meaningless Jagare, which you have always used to your gain. You have given me nothing, but our father Galtare has given us all lordship over portions of Oscuridad. You have given us nothing, but desire to take all of Erde to yourself and even now to enslave your own brothers to be but your mere servants,” Desgosto answered.

  Jagare searched the eyes of his brothers, “Be this true dear brothers? Does your allegiance lie with Desgosto and his railings against me? Or, do you wish to bond with me this day, to take all of Erde under one kingdom, whereby you shall be as mighty men over the mere mortals of this land?!”

  A few shouts of agreement were broken by the words of Desgosto once more. “Ask them not Jagare, for it is I who condemn you as a mad man. You have yet to be proven worthy to be king, for it was you who fell in battle by the arrow of the unknown, which could be a mere peasant girl.”

  Jagare recoiled like a viper. “Hold your tongue Desgosto, lest it be cut from your jaws this very day. I have power and means at my disposal you know not of. Do not be as the foolish, who think they are able to speak ill of king Jagare and live.”

  Desgosto’s anger moved him to further taunt his brother. “I defy this king Jagare that is not, but remains yet a wounded mind babbling tyrant.”

  Pulling his sword from the sheath along his side, Desgosto spewed, “By all means I challenge you, dear Jagare, for your portion of Oscuridad and all of Erde.”

  Gasps, even from these giants among men, could be heard. The seriousness had surpassed the rivalry of brothers, and had moved to battle of supremacy among men. Pride and ego pushed all essence of wisdom away, leaving only the desire to have that which the other wanted: the lust for power, the desire to be lord over all.

  Many men have gone forth with clouded judgment, by the urges of their lustful hearts, only to end in despair.

  Lifting his arm, as if swatting a fly with the back of his hand, Jagare exclaimed, “Let it be as you have said dear Desgosto, I shall miss you.”

  As Jagare’s wrist popped upward, Desgosto flew backwards, knocking over the chair and slamming against the wall. Jagare moved around the tables toward Desgosto, “Fear me brothers, but do not defy me. Ye shall receive that which you are due. Am I not able to give that which I please?”

  No one said a word as Desgosto appeared to be penned against the wall. He struggled for breath, as if something was caught in his throat. He fought the claustrophobic feeling of not being able to move, completely confined to the position of the wall. Sweat began to pour from his face as his inner being seemed to pull and tear itself from his flesh, as he tried to break free of Jagare’s grip. Grunts could be made out, but his mouth refused to obey the commands of his jumbled mind. Fear and hatred of Jagare drove Desgosto mad as he could not act upon either. The Ubils within him cried out in torment, further adding to Desgosto’s affliction.

  Jagare paced within five feet of Desgosto, staring him in the eyes. “Dear brother Desgosto, I asked you here for your allegiance, but I feel as though I no longer need it. You desire not to serve me, so I shall give you over to the fires of the Dragon. They shall not consume you, but torment you far beyond time. Ye shall curse my name and I shall not hear it, ye shall beg for mercy and I shall not give it. Fear it, for it waits for you! I give you over to the living flames of hell!”

  Instantly, Desgosto’s entire being ignited with invisible flames, with human combustion which could not be seen with the naked eye. The flames were not visible, but the heat could be felt and the burning flesh could be smelt. The brothers watched Desgosto melt before their eyes, as he screamed out in pain. He begged for mercy where there was none, his body became charred and lifeless. It was a grotesque sight, far more horrific than one being burned alive, when much of the sight is hidden by the flames. These hidden flames, which consumed Desgosto before their very eyes, bore record to the Gibborims: no mercy lay in the heart of their brother Jagare.

  Jagare turned to the brothers, “Any other objections dear brothers, or shall we proceed to the feast?”

  Hozekan Warning

  The dwarfs, Wiltzer and his wife Damaris, wasted no time in their journey back to Hozekan. Their black ponies did not move as swiftly as mustangs or stallions, but they pressed on to the timbers of the Valtava Forrest full gust. With new knowledge, considering it but a fuller understanding of things which were and what was to come, with book in hand, Wiltzer wished they were already speaking to Emperor Penuh Harap. Questions of how to present his case and worries of whether the emperor and the council would heed his warning filled his mind, as the wind blew hard against his beard.

  Mixed with fears for his people, he could not hide the thoughts of worry he had for young Vandor and his companion Kayla. He had seen the Land of the Seekers, and the evil that now dwelt there within so much death and destruction. He was most sure the young boy would not find his grandfather among the living, and how would they escape the grasps of the Gottlos if by chance they were caught? Turning back, h
e could possibly persuade the young pair to refrain from Trachten altogether, but by doing so would it not leave his own people awaiting the coming Ekleipsis without warning? Should he save the two over the lives of an entire race? He knew his duty was to warn the hidden people of Hozekan, so he prayed no ill would befall the young couple.

  Arriving at the entrance to Hozekan within the Valtava Forrest, the hearts of the two dwarfs found both comfort and eagerness to share their new knowledge with the others. They were met by Paktil and Qwen, the watchmen at the forefront of Hozekan and first alarm to the people. It was somewhat easy for a dwarf to recognize a dwarf and very few men had found their way into such parts, so Paktil and Qwen came forth from their hiding places to welcome Wiltzer and Damaris home. Showing their dwarf insignia rings was merely formality more than anything. Each dwarf was given such a ring made of white gold to be worn on their left ring finger when they reached the age of sixteen (the age of adulthood), with the blackened symbol: an upright eclipse of a stick figure, having a filled in circle for a head, single vertical line for a body and small horizontal mark for feet, with arms of arrows pointing east and west.

  For fear of alarming all the souls of Hozekan, Wiltzer and Damaris decided to hold their tongues till they were able to be granted company with Emperor Penuh Harap. Informing the watchmen they had something of great importance to tell the emperor, Paktil went forth to the palace in the center of Hozekan to inform the council. Qwen questioned Wiltzer as to the book and sword he carried, but Wiltzer replied that the emperor must hear of it first. Walking past the enormous sikwayi, bearing a large carving of the dwarf emblem matching that of the rings, Qwen did not question them further.

  Standing in front of the palace, Wiltzer took a moment to enjoy the craftsmanship his father had once taken part in. Its height was almost equal to that of the trees of the Valtava Forest, which were the tallest in all of Erde, and its length equally long. It was completely made from the thick sikwayi timbers of the forest. Handcrafted engravings of the late Emperor Oviss, along with dwarf symbols and writings covered it beautifully. Completely recoated yearly by hand with a special sap mixture made from the mahla trees, the palace shined brightly with the rays of the sun. So much so, that when the glaze was fresh, one must almost squint as they walked by during the day, while even the glow from the light of the moon upon it could be seen amidst the middle of the village at night.

  Once the council was gathered, Paktil came forth from the palace entrance informing Wiltzer and Damaris that the emperor and council would see him. Wiltzer could feel his stomach tighten and looked at his wife. Damaris gave her husband a silent gaze of confidence and encouragement with a look of love in her eyes. Wiltzer took a deep breath and followed Paktil into the palace to the council chamber room. This was where decisions were made. To the rise or fall of Hozekan, Wiltzer was there to request such an action.

  Paktil walked Wiltzer and Damaris up to the large wooden doors of the council chamber room. The dwarf emblem was boldly engraved upon the door with the following words:

  “Though short in stature, all things are within our reach.”

  Paktil made motion to Damaris that she could sit in either of the crimson cushioned chairs, marvelously handcrafted from stejar wood, set on each side of the chamber entrance. Damaris took a seat giving her husband a passionate wink with a smile.

  Paktil opened the chamber door revealing the six members sitting on the far side of the table. The table had the appearance of an enormous polished sikwayi tree trunk, cut squarely across the top, twelve foot long. Smoothly rounded underneath, it stood on four legs, each the size of a dwarf’s thigh. Among the council, from Wiltzer’s left to right, were as follows: Cohart, Fiken, Guesald, Imbol, Wedgmark, and the eldest Falinn Viden. Wiltzer knew of them all, though not personally.

  Emperor Penuh Harap sat behind the council, upon a slightly elevated platform, in a chair made of thick sikwayi. Deep purple shawls, with gold trim and tassels, flowed from each arm of the chair and covered the chair from head to foot. They matched the emperor’s purple royal robe, lined with three inch gold strips around the hems and down the front and back, flowing from the ring around the collar. He also wore a golden crown, handed down from Emperor Oviss, which had been said to have come from Signum in Erde.

  A single chair, matching the two at the entrance, awaited Wiltzer across the table from the onlookers. It was a far twenty feet to walk. As he stepped, he could hear the light sounds of the creaking wood beneath his feet. He stopped before the chair, bowed and waited for the emperor to speak.

  “Welcome, Wiltzer,” warmed Emperor Penuh Harap. “Paktil has told us that you have certain information that you feel is most important to the council and I. Please be seated and share with us this news,” the emperor spoke softly with open arms.

  Wiltzer placed the sword, now wrapped in cloth, and the book on the table in front of the seat he took. Pulling closer to the table, a slight skidding sound was made, but no one seemed to notice. All eyes were fixed upon his countenance and awaiting his words.

  Wiltzer began, softly speaking, “Dear emperor and Council of Hozekan, please pardon me tongue, for I am not much of a speaker.” Not a face changed emotion so he continued, “Me wife and I have been to Trachten and I fear what we have seen.”

  Wiltzer continued to tell them of the things which he had seen in Trachten and his fear that Hozekan may no longer be safe. They all listened intently to what was said. Wiltzer stopped short of telling of Vandor, Kayla, and the book he now had, for he wondered if any believed him thus far.

  Cohart, the youngest and newest member, was first to reply. “Dear Wiltzer, have you yet another witness to these accounts? For the law states ‘let therefore the truth of any matter be established by the observance of two or more witnesses. Else, let it be examined by the council that it may be judged righteously.’”

  In Hozekan, a female dwarf’s word was not regarded as highly as a male’s, even in some cases of defense and prosecution. Thus was why Wiltzer had entered while Damaris waited for him seated without. Since his inheritance of emperor, Penuh Harap had thought to change such a law, but he knew such matters must be handled delicately. One could not change all things overnight and expect to remain well-liked and respected. For this cause, he intended to have Damaris speak if need be, after the council had heard Wiltzer.

  “Cohart, bid this dwarf his time, for it is the council in which he has brought forth this matter,” claimed the emperor.

  “Yes, dear council, me wife is a witness, and I have these two items which bare record of that which I tell.” Wiltzer unclothed the sword, “This sword bares record of the man who gave himself to free me wife and me from the flying beast and evil doers in Trachten. I have reason to believe his name was MaZak, also known as The Bladesman. One who served as one of the Sealed for many years under a righteous King Salvare, who was slain, yet lives again, and of whom those in Erde await his return that the Darkness may be cast out forever.”

  “How can you be certain of such? Who is this King Salvare of who you speak? We have never heard one of such name nor do we know of any such righteous king, but that one whom was slain in the history before Hozekan,” claimed Wedgmark.

  “Can you not see, as I have told you the truth in what I have spoken, it but tells of the same story of that which Emperor Oviss and the council had written in the Legend of Pre-Hozekan?” pleaded Wiltzer.

  “That could be any man’s sword, and this King Salvare of which you speak could be but one who wishes to claim all of Erde as his own; including our beloved Hozekan,” added Guesald.

  “Indeed, I trust your words that wickedness now seems to dwell in Trachten, of which my father often spoke, and thus forbid us from leaving Hozekan. Have we been too eager to suppose that which the fathers spoke of was mere legend, and that there is no real evil in Erde to be warned of?” The emperor paused for a moment, as his eyes drifted into thought, “How have you come to know so much and seem so sure th
at the legend of which the fathers spoke contains more truth than we were given?”

  “Dear emperor, I met this young man upon my return to Hozekan who knew the bearer of this sword as his grandfather, and he spoke of the stories of which his grandfather had lived,” Wiltzer answered.

  “Yet, how can you trust this man who you have never met before?” questioned Guesald.

  “For those things of which he spoke were similar to those which were of Emperor Oviss’ own words, and a great amount of truth is contained within the pages of this book he gave me.” Wiltzer took the book, which had been laying face down upon the table, lifted it up, with the title facing toward council. “This is King Salvare’s Book of Wisdom. It holds further revelation of that which we dwarfs have in the Legend of Pre-Hozekan.”

  Wedgmark stiffened as he claimed, “Have you gone mad? Dare you say that this book of these unknown men holds more truth or bares further record than that which has come from the pure mouths of our fathers.”

  A warm rush came over Wiltzer’s face. This was not going as he had hoped. He blamed himself. If he could have only conveyed into words that which he knew in his mind and felt in his heart to be true. Wiltzer knew that which he spoke would mean the life or death of the souls in Hozekan, but felt he had only caused the council to doubt and become disgusted with his thoughts. Maybe if his wife had been the one to speak. Maybe he should have asked Vandor and Kayla to accompany him back to Hozekan, for Vandor’s words had been so clear to understand and embrace. If they would but read the book, surely their eyes would be open to the truth and their doubts removed.