Eclipse: the Beginning

“Yishmael,” a voice whispered from down the hallway. The reserve turned toward the speaker, wondering what he was being called for so quietly.

“Is someone there?”

“Yishmael,” the voice beckoned as a hand waved a ways down from a window. “I must speak with you, but be quiet.”

“Yonah?” Yishmael would know that wrist anywhere. His old friend had never taken off that silly bracelet. Ever since he had made it for him as a child, his friend had sworn to keep it forever. “Whatever is the matter? I am right here.”

“Lower your voice,” Yonah rasped back. He looked frantic, making Yishmael blink. Maybe there was a problem.

“I need your help.”

“What happened? Tell me everything.”

“I walked in on the viceroy’s interrogation! He was beating the old woman brought from Regent Willow’s district! It’s terrible! He won’t let me fetch a healer for her, but I know you can do healing magic! Please, Yishmael! She’s a Wingie!”

Yishmael stared back at the soldier blankly. A Wingie? His parents had been Wingies, but upon their deaths, he had been sworn to silence. Yonah was only one of a few who knew of his heritage. Still, he did not wish to disobey an order. What could he do?

“Wait for me in the gardens.”

“What? Why? We need to go now! She might not have much time!”

“There is someone I must speak with first. We all know what the viceroy is, but we are powerless against his political power. I believe there is one who can uproot him, here and now.”

“You mean … the Great Mage?”

“I do,” the effeminate soldier answered. “Wait for me, my friend. I believe in Lord Namas.”

They parted ways. Yonah returned to his duties for the day, and Yishmael went to the kitchen. The reserve had been fetching wine for the mage when Yonah had stopped him. He felt nervous, asking something of the king’s right hand. Still, after the time he had served him, the Wind trusted him. He picked out an orb fruit from the pantry when he arrived. There should be a gift of penance for making him wait. He sliced it carefully, wanting it to be perfect. He placed a wine gourd, cup, and the orb slices on a tray before moving as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. The mage was waiting in the library for him.

“Ah, Yishmael,” Namas looked up from the record scrolls and documents, “I was beginning to wonder where you were. I had just finished all the documents on that burned corpse found here in the capitol. Is everything all right?”

The soldier smiled back at the handsome face. It always filled his chest with warmth when he saw the mage. He wished the noble would remain longer with them, for he knew he could never return with him to Heaven. Yishmael was a lowly Wind, and a Wingie in hiding. No matter how kindly the Great Mage treated him, as a guest of the viceroy, there was just too much of a gap between them for more than this.

“Forgive my tardiness, my lord,” Yishmael replied, placing the refreshments on the desk. “I encountered an acquaintance in the halls that delayed me temporarily. I hope the fresh fruit will amend my sidetrack. Please enjoy, Lord Namas.”

Namas smiled back at the Wind. He knew some tried to win his favor for personal ambitions and influence. However, he denied such pathetic attempts, seeing through the greed and pride. Yishmael was different. He sensed a great deal of pride in his work, yet it did not consume him. Also, the soldier genuinely admired him. It was reminiscent of a time when Zemnas placed his complete faith in him. He missed those days. Reaching to take the slender hand in his, he kissed the back lightly. He wanted to be selfish for once, desiring more of this attention. The Wind flushed, making the mage grin.

“I see in your eyes you wish to petition more than my pardon, Wind. Speak, and I will listen.”

“Lord …” the Wind gasped. Was he that obvious? He hoped the noble meant he might consider the request. His warmth and timidity cooled to resolve. Dropping to his knees beside the Great Mage’s chair, he held onto the hand, bringing it to his forehead in humility.

“My lord, I beseech your help.”

“What troubles you, Yishmael?” Namas felt something change in the young Wind’s demeanor. His smile flattened.

“Lord Mage, there is an elderly woman under this roof who has been assaulted and requires healing. Lord Bog has forbidden a healer to help her, though. My friend has done all he can, but he fears for her life. I … I know of healing arts of wind, but without a higher authority, I fear disobeying the viceroy.”

“Why has Bog forbidden healing to this woman? Surely, he has his reasons, no matter how pathetic they might be.”

“My lord …” Yishmael bit his cheek. To speak so truthfully, he could have his tongue cut out. He looked up at the mage. Amber-green eyes beamed with trust. He had come to Namas in complete faith, knowing he would find a solution.

“Lord Namas, the woman is a Wingie. Lord Bog attacked her during an interrogation. I believe he wishes the incident to die with her.”

Namas looked down with a hard gaze. It sent a chill through the Wind’s entire being, but he would not look away. Retracting his hand, he took the young man’s jaw in a firm grasp, turning his face further toward him. The dark gray irises bore into the brave, hazel pools. They trembled, but not with fear. It was a humbleness he had only seen once before. His own gaze softened.

“You would not lie,” Namas replied at last. He sounded almost defeated. “Go to the Wingie and heal her. I would have a word when you believe she is able, though.”

“Oh, my lord,” Yishmael’s eyes welled up with grateful tears, “Thank you … how could I repay this debt?”

Namas paused, thinking about the question. He leaned down to kiss the soft lips. Yishmael gaped briefly before kissing back. How horrible of him to act so forward with a man so high above his station, but he could not help himself. He felt the hand at his jaw coax his mouth to open, sliding a tongue inside. The Wind let out a soft moan. Namas retracted almost instantly.

“I will think of something.”

“Of course … my lord.” Breathless, Yishmael stood to leave. He bowed in gratitude, collecting himself. “I will report back to you on her condition, Lord Namas.”

“See that you do,” Namas said, watching the young soldier leave. His eyes glazed once again. “Bog … you truly are a dim Light.”

“Bog!”

The viceroy looked up with a start. A voice bellowed from down the hallway, deeply enraged. He thought Namas had discovered his incident with the Wingie, making him break out in a cold sweat. When the voice yelled again, he took a deep breath. It was a woman’s voice, but who would have the gall to start such a commotion in his mansion?

“Forgive us, sire!” A Wind soldier ran into the room. “She wouldn’t stop! She just pushed right by us! It was all I could do to get here before she did!”

“Who? Who, you dimwit?” Bog tried to get an answer as the echo of feet stomping on the floor grew louder.

“It was I, Willow!” the woman barked from behind the soldier. Her amber eyes glared back at the twig cowering in his chair before her. “I demand to know why a Wind citizen in my district was brought here without my consent! Viceroy or no, you had no right to have an elderly woman taken from her home by force!”

“The Great Mage assured me they confirmed your cooperation,” Bog said nervously. Willow was normally a quiet woman. She had originally served as an officer in the Heavenly forces, but King Zemnas had asked her to take the title of one of his twelve regents. The Winds loved her in her region. Bog had no idea she had such a sharp temper.

“I gave my cooperation understanding that I would also help in the mage’s inquiry,” Willow replied with a growl. “When you sent soldiers to request my letters and reports, I was under the impression that the Great Mage or you would have questions asked before someone would take any action. I have worked for twenty years to build the trust I have with the people of Wind. I will not have your cowardice thwart that.”

“Cowardice?” Bog hissed back at her, finding a spine somewhere in his chair. “You dare to speak to me that way as your viceroy?”

“I answer only to my king, Zemnas the Sun god, and through him, his counsel, the Great Mage! You could never be my better, dim Light as you are!”

The Wind soldiers, gathered at the entrance, looked between the two Light nobles. Without orders, they dared not move. Willow’s presence demanded their attention, yet Bog’s eyes were sparking with rage. That always led to disastrous ends. The regent held her ground, though, besting the other’s will.

“Honestly, Bog,” Willow said with disgust in her voice, “I still cannot understand why you were allowed to govern this province. Your father’s appointment was astonishing enough, with his history in the court of advisors. That a shrewd man such as himself would hand the position to his pathetic son could only be seen as an attempt to be rid of you.”

“Silence!” the viceroy bit back as a wounded animal would do at a potential threat. “My father wanted me to make my place in Aurora! He thought I would benefit from the position better than he!”

“Delta wanted you to make use of yourself!” she barked back. “You never had a head for studies, and you never put forth the effort to improve yourself! Excuses will get you no further, Bog!” His pathetic nature eroded her vast patience as a flash flood to farm lands.

“Thistle claimed you were too fragile to do anything,” she said as her wrath calmed for a moment. “It pained her to see her only son grow up so useless. Delta even allowed his peers to call her cursed, but she never denied you her affection! For such a strong woman to rear so dim a Light is a worse fate than death!”

“Enough of your insults, Willow! I demand you leave my home this instant!”

“I will do no such thing! Not until you release the elderly woman under my charge!”

Bog bit his tongue. Willow had cut him down to size and more. She was correct, of course, just as Namas had pointed out. He loathed being called pathetic, useless, dim. He did not need to review his shortcomings, but to drag his mother into this, his temper flared.

“Then wait.”

“What?” The ruler’s reply stunned the regent.

“Wait for them to release the old woman from interrogation.” Bog grabbed his robe in a fist and stormed out of the room. It was a clever way to run. The regent gawked a moment at the sudden exit.

“Tell me,” Willow said, turning to one of the guards behind her. She was still surprised by Bog’s sudden change of demeanor, but she had more pressing matters to worry about. “The woman they brought here, is she well? I fear something ill has or will befall her if she remains. I know what I ask of you, but I beseech you, on behalf of your people of Wind, to tell me of her condition.”

The three Wind soldiers, who had not dispersed, looked at one another as they thought over her request. The eyes that once burned with righteous rage had calmed. Her reputation helped to encourage their decision. Even if she could not protect them, she might be able to bring the change their nation so desperately needed.

“Lady Willow,” one finally spoke in a low voice, “I must ask that you come with us. This is not a conversation to hold inside the viceroy’s halls.”

The soldiers led Willow outside through the front door. They held silent for some time, but the noblewoman was willing to trust them. She was aware of the unrest between Wind and Light in the far west of the province. There were reports of Lights who had vanished without a trace. Some suspected Wind rebellion in response to Lord Zion’s disappearance, but Willow believed there was a far more dire situation going on. Although she had no proof to even present a report to Heaven. Namas did enjoy screening proof before the king even caught word of anything.

“There isn’t much time,” the soldier said, stopping among some trees. He looked to the other two, “Find Yonah. He was there. She’ll need to speak with him.” They nodded curtly before running off.

“What is it you fear, warden?” Willow spoke up at last. She finally took in his necklace beads, realizing his rank. “I cannot help you unless you tell me what plagues this place.”

“The viceroy carries out heavy penalties if he even smells rebellious activity,” he replied solemnly. He glanced about the area, making certain they were alone. “However, the Great Mage is not someone we believe we can turn to. He thinks only of the king.”

“But you believe I can be, is that it?”

“Lady Willow … you have shown a side of Heaven we want to believe is still with us. Wind feels forsaken by Heaven since the fall of our country’s face at Lord Zion’s trial.”

“That is not true!” Willow cried out suddenly. Her chest ached as she listened to his tone of voice, but she knew these were the words of the province. They felt lost and helpless without their guardian. If only she could change that ….

“Appointing a viceroy was meant to stand in Lord Zion’s place until he could be found, but when King Zemnas heard of the fate of the Wingies, he appointed us, his regents, to be closer to the people, to hear their voices, and to guide them. King Zemnas has not forsaken you, I promise you this.”

“I will do my best to believe that, my lady.”

“What is your name? I wish to address you properly.”

“I am Caleb, warden of the capitol forces.”

“Warden Caleb, I swear on my cords that I tell you the truth.”

The Wind watched her pull open her cloak to touch the silver cords around her waist. Those were military cords of an officer. She had earned those, and now, she swore to him on her honor. He knew it would be foolish not to trust such an oath. He nodded, just as a soldier returned with Yonah.

“My lady, this is Yonah, one of our reserves. Yonah, tell her what you witnessed. I give you my word she is trustworthy.”

“Please, reserve,” Willow pleaded with worry, “tell me what has happened.”

“Ma’am,” Yonah began, glancing between his superior and the regent. He felt anxious, speaking ill of the viceroy to another Light. If the warden trusted her, he would do his best for his sake. “I was guarding the door to an interrogation room where Viceroy Bog was questioning an elderly woman. I didn’t eavesdrop at first. I didn’t want to get caught up in anything, but when I heard the Viceroy raise his voice, I leaned against the door to listen.”

“He raised his voice? Whatever for?” Willow could feel her patience with Bog ebbing once again, but she needed to keep herself in check lest she frightened the already nervous soldiers more.

“I don’t know what happened before that, but …” Yonah bit his tongue, sweat forming on the back of his neck. He knew speaking such things were grounds to cut his tongue out at best. He wished he had never witnessed Bog’s assault, but he could not let his victim fall silent.

“Yonah, you can trust her,” Caleb said, putting a hand on the soldier’s shoulder for support.

“I … I heard her crying out … Bog was … was hitting her, over and over! I didn’t know what to do! I was so scared, but I couldn’t just let him!”

“Is she all right?” Willow gaped at the news. Bog had gravely overstepped his authority. “Please … tell me she is all right!”

“Forgive me, my lady!” Yonah bowed at the waist. “I tried to get a healer for her, but the viceroy forbade it! I was able to find one today against orders, but I’m not sure if I was in time.” He gripped his fists tightly, ashamed and terrified. If only he had opened the door sooner, the poor woman might not have been so hurt.

“You see our position, Lady Willow. We are powerless, and Bog will discover our disobedience before long. From what Yonah told me of the interrogation, the elderly woman is a Wingie. Bog did place warrants on their heads. I fear he means for her to take their encounter with her to the winds.”

“You are most likely correct,” Willow replied grimly. “This must end. Bog must be removed. How many of your force knows of the current situation?”

“Ten,” Caleb replied. “I have done my best to keep the viceroy from knowing about this by limiting that number.”

“Take me to her, if you are able.”

“Yonah can take you, my lady,” Caleb said with a nod. “The rest of you return to your posts. Keep this quiet. We cannot alert the viceroy.”

“Sir!” The two reserves stood upright at attention at their orders before departing.

“Come with me, my lady.”

“Thank you, warden.” Willow nodded her head before leaving with the reserve.

Bog rushed down the hallway. He huffed in labored gasps as he was in pathetic physical condition. His body had always been fragile, so he never had bothered to train it. As he ran, he looked over his shoulder every so often to ensure he was not being followed or watched. How low he had sunk to fear for his safety inside his own home. He had not been looking ahead and collided with an obstruction. Looking up from where he had fallen, he silenced any insult that might have escaped his lips by instinct. Namas was staring down at him.

“Why does the viceroy race through his halls this afternoon, I wonder?”

“N-Namas!” Bog stammered, grasping for a reply. He had irritated the mage enough. What excuse could he have to avoid his wrath a second time?

“I … I was … I was looking for you!”

“For me?” Namas raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Y-Yes! Lady Willow barged into my halls, accusing me of kidnapping one of her citizens! I was not sure what to do about her behavior! I have never seen her lose her composure this way.” There, it was only half a lie. Surely Namas would believe him.

The mage stared blankly down at the tiny Light beneath him. He had sent soldiers to bring the witness for questioning from Willow’s jurisdiction. He had allowed Bog to undertake her inquiry, hoping it would give the fool something to do with himself. If what Yishmael feared was true, the witness was gravely wounded and Bog was terrified of Willow discovering the truth. This presented quite the problem. He would need to handle things very carefully. Leave it to Bog to botch up one simple inquiry.

“I see then. Perhaps my request was a bit lacking in instruction. I am accustomed to the Royal Guard and Heavenly Army, so the neglect you have given the Western Army might have fallen to oversight.” The mage crossed his arms as he stood before a window in the hall. He did not look back at the viceroy, still sitting on the floor.

“If it is merely a misunderstanding, I am certain Regent Willow will take our apologies in exchange for the witness I requested. Surely your direct involvement will soothe her temper. Where is the witness?” This was Bog’s final chance to keep his name intact. Namas would not forgive another messy fumble from the young fool.

“The witness?” Bog felt ill as if a grip was growing on his belly. He had hoped that old Wingie would have remained out of the picture altogether. If the Great Mage discovered the assault, he knew Namas would snuff him out before he ever stood before King Zemnas. “She wasn’t willing to … give me any information so I … I had her escorted to a cell until she was willing to be more cooperative. I’ll go find out where the guard took her yesterday. I’ll come find you when I discover her whereabouts.”

“Very well then,” Namas said, keeping his back to the pathetic liar. “I will speak with Regent Willow in the meantime. Please handle the situation gently, Bog. My patience has nearly run out.”

“Of … of course, my lord!” Bog stood up quickly. He dashed down the hallway. His back was soaked in sweat. What was he going to do now? He had to hide. Namas just might kill him for this, but every coward seeks a hiding place, no matter the odds.

The Great Mage turned his head to watch the viceroy run. His face held no emotion. Gunmetal gray eyes had no gleam of reaction to the poor deception. It was clear Bog had sealed his fate in that very moment. Namas had no desire to use such an idiot – even as a puppet. It was time he built his case against him, for the mage enjoyed completely crushing those who embarrassed the crown.

“I wonder if he will even let me drag him in front of my king before he erases his own pathetic existence,” the immortal mused quietly. “I doubt he possesses a shred of honor and pride Zion held before I brought his actions to King Zemnas. He truly was a god of integrity.”