Eclipse: the Beginning

In a quiet secluded room inside the mansion, Samuel and Namas sat across from one another. The empathic symptoms from Seraph had faded, but the Nomad had not stopped staring at the mage. How could he not? It seemed at least an hour since they had come to the isolated room, and Namas had just read from pieces of parchment. There were no windows, only a torch on the wall. Samuel could hear his heartbeat, it was so quiet. What was the point of all this? To unnerve him into not withholding information? Namas did not understand how patient he could be. He was accustomed to isolation.

“You seem to have regained your strength,” Namas spoke up after finishing the last document. “Tell me, young Samuel, what reason did you have to come to the capitol today?”

“What reason have I to answer that question?” Samuel replied in a flat tone. “The last time we met, you were trying to attack one of my friends and have the other tried for treason.”

“You must not have many companions.”

“I am a Nomad.”

“A Nomad? Curious.” The mage took a moment to find Willow’s letter. “For one with so little memory, you have left quite the trail in your wake.”

“You make me out to be so infamous. I hardly think I am worth the effort of such deep consideration, sir.”

“I can make your life very uncomfortable if you insist on these games and wordplay, boy,” the mage’s voice remained relaxed as he made his threat. He had broken men with stronger wills than this child, but he could discipline children given the proper method. He saw no difference in this instance. “I suggest you cooperate before I bore of this little game of wit.”

“I somehow doubt anything you could do could outrank what I have been through over the course of a month.”

He had been shot, fallen from the sky, lost his home forever, discovered a new world’s existence, given the task of saving it, and developed powers that continued to cause him nothing but trouble. Bring on the torture. He could not care less what the mage tried. Samuel had a goal and quest to achieve. He was not about to give into fear from a little intimidation. The time for that had already come and gone.

“Wind forces captured you with your two companions here in the capitol.” Namas did not even pause after Samuel’s statement. “One being the rebellious Captain of the Heavenly Guard, who shamelessly bares a traitor’s treasure at her side, and the other a unique yet impaired individual of speculated Western descent. I would hope this was not a planned siege, for the timing could not have been worse. Would you care to explain your actions, young Nomad? If nothing else, what was your reasoning?”

“I do not know if you would understand them, so no.”

“Very well,” the mage looked at the parchments again, “before that, you and a Wind god attacked the Sun god during the trial of Captain Celestial. Not only did your companion threaten King Zemnas, but you stole Lord Zion’s sword personally before the both of you made off with the captain.”

“Is it so terrible to come to a friend’s aid?”

“When it threatens the life of my king …” Namas stopped when he felt his tone grow an edge. What was it about this boy that could cause him to become … frustrated? Lord Zion had not even stirred him this greatly when they had spoken. Samuel was not afraid of him. That was dangerous, but more so than that, his eyes looked hauntingly familiar.

“Let me tell you of a curious incident that happened a month ago.” The mage slid the letter closer to Samuel, recounting its content without reading it. “In a bazaar near to the capitol, witnesses saw a Light dragging a Wind and her companion away through the streets. The Light was a soldier fitting Celestial’s description. The Wind was a large woman, compared to a man in fact. The curious point comes from the companion in her company.

“He was unconscious, dressed in garments not of the province, and most curious of all, no one recalled him entering the bazaar. The fruit seller who had just sold the woman some orbs remembered her being alone, having watching her closely during her time on the street. Tell me this, Samuel. Would that young man have been you? The boy that no one remembered?”

Samuel silenced. He had not heard the details of his arrival to Aurora. He took a moment to process the news. No one noticed him falling from the sky? Was he not covered in blood from shielding Philip? He never had seen his clothing before he awoke. What did any of this mean?

You gave your life for his, child. Such a sacrifice of love and honor only heralds of what you are bound in this world to do. You were destined to come here ….

“Witnesses reported that a frail woman from the region approached the Light and led them to her home. They brought her here for questioning. I have yet to speak with her ….”

Namas paused, feeling a tension in the air suddenly. He glanced up to see the silver eyes shimmer as light reflecting off of a blade. Finally, a fault in his defenses. A smile grew on the mage’s lips at the reaction. Samuel’s face flushed with rage. The immortal had him in his palm.

“Where is she?”

“Whom do you refer to?”

“Grandmother Wingie … Mary … where is she?” Samuel’s voice came out in frustrated grunts. He knew Bog had harmed her, but he did not know what else could have happened after their link had broken. “Where is she, Namas?”

“Such hostility.” Namas sat forward to look into those vicious eyes, resting his chin on the back of his folded hands. He almost felt a chill of anticipation, locking his gaze. “You are a man of your word, Samuel. You possess the gall to siege the ceremonial rising of the Sun for Celestial. Were you naïve enough to think fortune would grant you a second rescue?”

“I would never abandon a friend in need! I cannot expect someone like you to understand or care, but I would face Zemnas and you alone if a friend’s life depended on it! I am not afraid of either of you!”

There was silence in the thick air for a moment. The two stared into each other’s eyes. Samuel huffed quietly from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Namas had to admit he was impressed. Finally, he stood from his seat, walking around the table to stand next to the furious Nomad. Reaching for Samuel’s chin, he planned on looking deeper into that familiar gaze.

“What are you doing?” Samuel jerked away in fear. Why did he have to be bound from behind?

“Looking past that expression in your eyes.”

“No! Don’t touch me!” The young man tried to move away. He felt a familiar tension building in his chest. No, his powers would leave him helpless against the mage. “Don’t!”

The moment Namas touched his chin, a rush of powerful emotions swept over him. Devotion, conviction, and longing were stronger than any emotion he had ever experienced. It was so intense that his eyes watered and poured tears immediately. He screamed, driven mad by the overwhelming emotions.

Namas trembled terribly. His eyes dilated, and his skin paled. He cried out sharply, pushing Samuel away from him as he collapsed to the floor. Samuel fell sideways with his chair, shaking as his screams gradually calmed.

Vision went black. Was he having another imageless dream? The sound of a baby crying rang in his ears. It was not powerful enough to be from distress. It almost sounded as if the infant were sick, weeping from its suffering. Feelings swelled up and evolved in response to the cries: confusion, anxiety, resolve, anger, guilt, loneliness, and faintly love. Where were these feelings coming from? Namas? Who was the infant then? What was going on?

“Quiet …” an awkward voice spoke. It sounded like Namas. “Quiet now … forgive me. It must hurt to feel my touch. I will do my best not to cause you further suffering. You will never feel pain again. I swear this.” The baby gradually calmed its crying, and as the dream faded away, Samuel could hear a soft cooing before he awoke.

The young man’s head was spinning. His still tearing eyes glanced around the room in a daze. He was lying on the floor. The toppled chair left him on his right side. When his thoughts came back together, he glanced at the other side of the overturned chair that still bound him. Namas was lying on the ground.

The mage gave a groan, stirring. He had been grasping his head in his sleep, but he was slowly loosening his grip. Once his hands fell to the floor, Namas sat upright wearily. With his face now visible, Samuel could see how exhausted he was. An idea occurred to him. Celestial said Namas’ power was unknown. Could that mean it was of a forgotten or lost people?

“You are a unique man … Samuel Watson,” Namas said from where he still struggled to sit up. Looking back at the silver gaze, he felt the familiar emotions stirring. What was it? He could not place the exact feeling. It was almost nostalgic and yet not. Just who was this young man?

“How do you know my last name?” Samuel’s voice was faint and whispered. He felt disoriented, as if someone had struck him across the head. He had not felt such a strong reaction to a person before. If he never touched Namas the Great Mage again, he would be pleased. He was a deeply convicted individual.

“Celestial was not the first you have tried to save.”

“What do you mean?”

“Philip Moore … a conceited young fool … similar to Bog … clinging to heritage and blood over ability.” Namas huffed a labored laugh as he finally sat up, leaning his left arm on the same knee for support. “His life would have been of little consequence … but you … you deemed his life worthy of saving. You may not fear me … but I know what you hold most precious – Life.”

“Any decent person would … bloody dolt.” The youth was too foggy to care about his language.

“No … you hold all life sacred. You fear death in its cruelest form … casualties … victims … martyrs …. You are a savior, and in time, the sacrifice.”

Samuel gaped back at the mage. He knew almost everything about him after just one touch. Clenching his teeth as tight as he was capable, he knew this could only mean one thing. He knew he really did not have to ask, but he felt compelled.

“Namas … about that power you have. You … You’re a Spirit Sage, aren’t you?”

“How do you know that title?” The arrogant nature vanished instantly. Standing from the ground awkwardly, still shaken from his experience, the immortal glared down at Samuel. “Answer me this instant! How do you know that title, boy?”

“Who was the babe, Namas?” Samuel asked quietly. The tables had turned in his favor. Now, it was Namas who could not hold his emotions in check. “Who did you swear to protect with such conviction? For such a cruel man … the longing you felt was at the root of your love. It must torment you to know … you can only harm this person you hold most precious.”

“Silence!” Namas snarled. His entire body trembled as he fought back to urge to strangle the Nomad. He approached, dropping to his knees. His hands reached for Samuel’s neck, but the look in the boy’s metallic eyes made him freeze.

“It was King Zemnas, wasn’t it?”

Namas gaped in shock. It was as if Samuel had forced him to see something he had denied. Clenching his teeth, the young man saw beads of blood form at the mage’s gums. He felt sorry for the immortal, having felt his emotions. Namas must have sensed this from the temporary bond they now shared. He stood up once again, stumbling for the door.

“Namas?” The mage left as soon as he opened the door, leaving Samuel to stare after him. Alone at last, he laid his head down on the floor. “What now? Wonder if I can loop my arms about …? I could at least walk that way ….”

“Warden! What should we do?! The whistles have all died!”

Caleb stood in the courtyard of the estate as the rest of the army within the mansion’s wall looked to him. He was staring at the gate. In his time as warden, he had done his utmost to protect his troops. There had not been many uprisings, but they had handled them with complete success. If he really tried, he knew the threat they had been alerted of could be put down. That particular whistle meant a request for reinforcements. The Wind soldier had been at a loss for words ever since Yishmael’s mystic words. He knew the mansion was their last defense, but everything in him told the soldier to do nothing.

“What should we do, sir?” Machau asked his superior. He stood quietly with Cain and Yoav as his fellow soldiers looked to Caleb for orders. The reserve knew what Caleb had learned, and he understood the position the leader was in. He observed the rest of the army as he protected the warden. “Whatever you decide, you know the three of us will go before you. Just give them something, warden.”

“I promised myself after my promotion to keep my soldiers safe,” he said solemnly. “All this time, there was only one threat I did nothing about.”

“What was that, warden?” Yoav asked, hugging his pole against his shoulder as he listened. He was ready for a revolt, but he did not want to fight his friends. Why had it come to this?

“Bog.”

“No one could do anything about the viceroy, sir,” Cain said, stoically. He felt unsettled with everything going on at once, but he would not argue. He realized how wrong he had been, trying to get promoted and playing to the Light’s whims to get ahead. All he could do was follow orders at this point. He could sort out his guilt after things stopped spiraling.

“I wanted nothing more than to kick him out of this city … this province. His arrogance and ignorance burned into me like a branding iron, but I knew my subordinates needed me to lead them. He turned us against our own people, made fools of us in our grief … and all I could do was watch.”

“What are your orders then, sir?” Machau gripped his pole, ready to fend off any retaliation. He did not need to hear the orders to know what Caleb planned to do, and as he had promised, he would follow that command without hesitation.

“Stand down and unlock the gates.”

“Sir!”

To their surprise, all the Wind soldiers stood at attention around them. Reserves, heads, and mains alike were behind his decision. He took a deep breath. They all understood. This was their chance to overthrow Bog. Complete surrender to whoever had so quickly overtaken their patrols was a satisfactory escape for them. Two broke away to open the gates.

“What are you dim Winds doing?” Bog’s voice screeched when he saw the soldiers just standing around the courtyard. “We are under attack, are we not? Celestial has broken free! Contain her!”

“It’s over, Bog,” Caleb said flatly. “Someone has taken the city from the outside. We focused too greatly on the captain and her companions. I believe they were ultimately a diversion. We are surrendering.”

“But you can’t!”

“We can, and I have already given the order,” his tone cut Bog down, silencing further protest. “We will open the gates to let them in. If you wish to run, the only way is into your house to wait.”

Bog’s heart stopped in his chest. It was over. Namas would crush him, or the invaders would kill him. Sweat poured down his face as every soldier present glared back at him. It was a silent statement that got through to him. He took a step backward, pausing for a moment. He was completely alone. No one to protect him. No soldiers. No mage. No mother. When the gates opened, the coward turned to run for his front door. He did not want to die, but he could feel death coming for him.

“Who do you think took the city, sir?” Cain asked, stepping forward to be next to his superior.

“Isn’t it obvious, Cain?” Caleb hung his head. Sighing heavily, a small smile grew on his lips. “This was the will of wind. That could only mean one thing.”

“But that would mean ….” Yoav’s voice died in his throat as they saw their patrol soldiers walk inside with their hands behind their heads. They finally saw the victors, led by a woman.

“By the will of the wind,” she spoke in a loud voice, “we have returned to reclaim the West in the name of the Wind god, Seraph! We demand Viceroy Bog’s immediate surrender to answer for his injury to our people and province!”

“I am Warden Caleb of Western Wind. We agree to your demands. Bog is inside the building behind me now. May I ask the name of the leader that conquered our city?”

“I am Alma, Head Wingie of the mystics of Wind. I believe our god has preceded us, has he not?”

“I believe so,” Caleb replied, bowing from the waist in humility. “On behalf of the capitol, I thank you, Lady Alma.”

“There is no need to thank us,” Alma said with a smile, walking up to the soldier. “It is to our god, the Spirit Sage, and the keeper of Zion’s Arm you should show your gratitude. Without them, we would not have been able to take control without killing our own people. This was the will of the Spirit Sage, Samuel.”

“Samuel?” Caleb looked up at the Wingie in surprise. That child had orchestrated all of this? It occurred to him at that moment he did not know where the youth was. “Where is the boy who came with Captain Celestial?”

“The Great Mage desired to question him, sir. Should I not have let them go?” Rebecca spoke up nervously. She had no idea where they had gone. The main had not thought to send a soldier with them, either.

“Warden,” Alma spoke quickly, “may I ask your men to search for the Spirit Sage? We will secure Bog ourselves.”

“Of course. You heard her request!” Caleb called to his soldiers. “Find the mystic named Samuel!”

“My brothers and sisters,” Alma turned to the Wingies behind her, “let us put our fathers and brothers to rest by taking the viceroy from his throne!” The outcry from both groups echoed throughout the city before they set out.