Ekleipsis (7 page)

“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.”

Kayla 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.