Ekleipsis (4 page)

“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.