by Rafael Lopez
stepped lightly and trod ground with much haste as he made his way to the entrance of the stairway leading to forest below.
He descended the long shady stair but then paused, as if a sword was horribly thrust into his stomach he cried and tears flowed his face. A dark deed had just been performed at the summit and Kalpon could feel it. The Staff had been disrupted from its resting place, the only thing that kept all the evils away from humans. The Keeper continued his decent toward Ettron Forest in fear. He could not do anything about the creature along.
At long last as the day waned, Kalpon beheld the gleaming waters of the waterfall through the doorway of the staircase. The evening’s grasp clutched the flowing waters but could not take the crystal sheen that danced its droplets across the stones.
Upon any other day, Kalpon would have smiled in delight to see the mist-covered landing of the falls, but this eve he leapt out and silver water needles pricked his back. Wet and cold he took to the road, bent on finding a town.
As the night gathered its strength, Kalpon could see what had happened high up the slope. The familiar glow of The Staff that would shine outwards from the temple was not in sight. Berghope’s walls remained dark green, no light emanating from their core. The creature stood atop the temple’s roof, shrieking a terrible yell and stretching its dark wings.
“Alas, The Staff has fallen. What a disaster this is becoming,” he muttered in the chill breeze. Kalpon stepped lightly, and through the night he arrived at a town. As the moon shone upon his tired face, he shouted with all his might.
“Opon-Hul! Opon-Hul!” Over and over he did shout until a large crowd gathered around him in the dark of night. They all stared at him with wonder and bewilderment. None knew what he was saying.
“Opon-Hul? Why, that is not our language,” said one.
“He is just saying nonsense,” accused another.
“Indeed, ‘tis easy enough to see, the man is a loon!” laughed a third.
Even though he was laughed at and he himself did not understand what he said, Kalpon knew the words must be uttered if ever peril came.
And only an old man in the town knew what the words meant. His name was Guthuahn. He came hobbling from a house, eyes ablaze with surprise and dread.
“Clear the way, you fools!” he cried at the villagers who had gathered. They scowled in anger but obeyed him, for he was one of The Word Keepers. Guthuahn walked right up to Kalpon and peered into his frightened eyes.
“Repeat that which you said,” requested Guthuahn, his voice commanding. He had heard the words, but needed to make certain he spoke what he heard.
“Opon-Hul! Opon-Hul!” cried The Staff Keeper in a terrible fright, not knowing what else to do.
Guthuahn did not know what the danger was, but now realized what needed to be done. He turned to the amassed town population and gazed off into the far trees of the forest.
“Tonight The Words of Old have been uttered!” he proclaimed. “Opon-Hul! Now go to bed, all of you, for ‘tis my job to carry these words to those who must listen. Good night, my fellow people.”
“But what does this mean?” asked a villager.
“It means you should all lock your doors tonight and hide your sheep! It means, danger is about. I must tell these words to the castles yonder so we can prepare for what comes!” He then quickly headed for the Castle Greensky, not even bothering to close the door of his house, leaving everyone with troubled faces.
Guthuahn traversed the forest floor with speed unseen in an old man such as he. Yet at his heels remained Kalpon, who sought answers for his misery and death of fellow monk, and for the meaning of the words.
“Wait there, Word Keeper!” called Kalpon as the two neared the shadow of a castle.
“Yes?” Guthuahn paused and turned toward Kalpon.
“I must know what they mean. The words. Please tell me.”
“It is not for thee to know. I am a Word Keeper, and thou art a Staff Keeper. Let us keep it at that.”
“My friend Kelpreen died upon that summit! His last words were those which I spoke earlier. Please, I shan’t tell anyone else. I must know.”
Guthuahn thought a moment, his face twisting with impatience. “Why did your friend die? Is there some true peril for all of Dathzon or did he merely tell you these words upon his death bed?”
“A peril you could not imagine. Now I demand to know what those words signify.”
“A peril, eh? Very well. Come closer.”
“Thank you kindly, sir.” Kalpon bowed low, then leaned closer to hear.
“Opon-Hul means ‘We Summon’,” whispered Guthuahn into Kalpon’s ear. “It must be chanted in the Bergwarn tomb to bring forth Lastenberg.”
“Lastenberg? Is that not the name of a mythical archer who comes to save Dathzon from destruction?”
“That is correct. And he is not a myth, he is real. His tomb lies in that castle yonder. If there is a great danger as you claim, we must summon him quickly. However, in order to do so, there must be a certain five people present.”
“Why? Can you not summon him?”
“Nay! Well, perhaps I could, but no one has ever tried to do it alone. We do not know what would happen, and frankly we have not the time to spare. It was five he foresaw in his chamber last time he was awake, and thus, it is five that must be there now.”
“Very well, let us gather them in haste. The Staff of Hope is out of its pillar. Soon the evil things will come past The Land of Dark Horizons. As soon as the magic wears off. And those lands shall be of Dark Dirt, and this spot we stand on shall see a horizon of evil shadows.”
Guthuahn hesitated for a moment, pondering this new information. “The situation is very bad. How could such ill things have happened? What use are you Staff Keepers if you allow it to fall out of its place?”
“It did not just fall out! Something came. I do not know how.” He paused. “It walked through the air. Unlike anything I have ever seen. And it hissed something to me. Perhaps thou might know what it means. The being hissed, ‘Zafthic.’ That is all. Is it too an old word?”
“No, I do not know what that means. Come, we must locate the five people.” As they continued their walk toward the castle, Guthuahn kept talking. “Walking through the air, you said?”
“Yes, some strange creature The Land of Dark Dirt conjured.”
Guthuahn was now troubled with the images, and quickened his pace for the castle.
They had journeyed until a brilliant sun glimmered through the tree cover. Before them were the low walls and deep trench of a castle.
“Who art we coming for? If I may ask.” Kalpon stood gazing at the imposing palace.
“The king. He is one of the five we must collect. A Staff Keeper and the three Word Keepers are the other four. You shall be The Staff Keeper and I am one of The Word Keepers. Thus, we will have three of the five needed once the king joins us.” Guthuahn shuffled to a bridge over the trench.
Two guards stood in gleaming green armor and white capes that flowed like they were the wind blowing. The soldiers recognized Guthuahn and let the men through. Boards rattled while they walked, crossing to the castle.
Guthuahn strolled to the base of the wall, shouting the old words again. “Opon-Hul!” His voice echoed beyond the gateway, into the high and hidden chambers of the central keep. Ears all round heard the words with wonder.
Moments passed. Kalpon stood uncomfortably as townspeople stared at them, wondering why Guthuahn had yelled so strange of words so loudly.
Then the doors to the keep opened and out stepped a king. Many years and many a trouble burdened the monarch’s visage. He stepped alone and silently as if he had been called to the spot by Guthuahn’s cry. Indeed, he did not stop walking until he faced Guthuahn no more than a few feet away.
“Welcome, my friend,” he said in a soothing voice. “Or perhaps I should not welcome thee, for I shan’t enjoy your company t
his day. Why have you said The Old Words?”
“Greetings, Lord Nofflore. How have thou been?” asked Guthuahn.
“I know you come to me not worried of the troubles of my days past. And I know that thou would not articulate The Words without reason. Be hasty to the point, my friend, for there may be not time to delay. Let us hear the trouble, then.”
“Well, troubles are nigh. Perhaps greater than any you have faced before. The Staff of Hope has been disturbed,” said Guthuahn.
“Disturbed how?” Nofflore asked.
“Thrown to the floor! And The Staff Keepers are being slain in their temple!” exclaimed Kalpon. Then remembering he was speaking to a king he added with a slight bow, “My lord.”
The king’s face turned southwest, toward the dark horizon. “They will come, is that not right, Guthuahn?”
“Indeed, all of them will come and destroy until naught is left. Devour all the shines and all that has life. However, we could summon Lastenberg to save us. He has never failed to rescue those who call upon him.”
Nofflore’s eyes glanced at the keep, then settled back upon Guthuahn. “Lastenberg has never fought all of the darkness at once. Last time he gave us The Staff to protect us from those ill shadows, and we cannot allow The Staff to fall and then call upon Lastenberg and think he will fix all that is wrong on Dathzon. If he could, do you not think he would have destroyed The Land of Dark Dirt long ago, so that no one would have to live in this fear?”
The other men were silent. The king
