“Where is Mah?” Dulgin looked at his father and then back to God in excitement.
The dwarven deity responded, “She is waiting, let us go and see her.”
“Russo, di cende.”
Bridazak recognized the voice; the Orb of Truth. His head lifted, excited to finally see the face which matched the sound he had come to love more than anything. He found an Ordakian, and he marvelled at the perfection of the glorious being. A soft glow encapsulated him. Bridazak noticed his robes flowing endlessly behind him. The material rolled like forming waves and revealed two colors on either side: gold and a deep red; the same colors of the Orb had borne. Bridazak’s elation dwindled and he slowly looked down, away from his deity, reminded of his failure.
“What is it?” God asked.
“Why did you choose me?”
“Why not choose you?”
“Because I failed, and I am a nobody.”
“You did not fail. I orchestrated every step so that every promise and prophecy made would be fulfilled. I created the Orb and only I could destroy it. You, Bridazak, faithfully carried me through my plan, so again I say, well done. Well done. I knew you before you were born, before the world was ever created. You are special and you matter so much that I would sacrifice everything to have you with me.”
“But you are God, and I am just a thief.”
God laughed, “And a good thief you are.”
“I don’t understand.”
God placed both of his hands on Bridazak’s shoulders, “You are a good thief because you stole my heart.”
Bridazak’s face began to brighten with a smile. “I wouldn’t have thought of it that way. So, you are not mad at me?”
“Of course not! I’m proud of you. I knew that I chose the right Ordakian for the task. You fought through the darkest hour, and risked everything for me and your friends.”
“I know you sent Abawken to help, but did you set all those things in motion for us? Bringing me to the Seeker bow and arrows, and meeting Billwick… and learning my Bapah’s name?”
“Your steps were ordered and never without my hand’s guiding,” he paused, “Matter of fact, I have another gift for you.”
Bridazak protested, “You have already given me more than I could possibly imagine. What else could I want?”
God smiled and extended a closed fist, turned it upright, and then opened his hand to reveal two clear gems in the form of teardrops.
“What are they?”
“Your gift.”
Bridazak held out his hand and God dropped them into his open palm. The gems splashed onto his skin like water. He looked at God with a puzzled face, not understanding.
“Those are prayers offered up to me that I have reserved, and will now honor.”
“We didn’t abandon you, Son,” a female voice echoed forth from behind him. Bridazak turned around, and there she was. Her long brown hair had beautiful flowers laced within the ornate braid-work. She wore a white dress that elegantly draped to the ground. He recognized her, though he had never seen her before, he knew it was his momah. Then his bapah, Hills Baiulus, stepped out from behind her, greeting him with a warming smile of admiration. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“We are so proud of you. To have you here is the greatest gift for us.”
“Momah? Bapah? Is it really you?”
“Yes, Son.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“We were always meant to be together, and finally, it is time.” There it was, like the dawn of a new day breaking free from the bondage of night— the connection, the final link, from the beginning when he first received the Orb of Truth inside the box, now came full circle. “It is time.” It was his parents who had delivered the box, the message, and the mission.
“The One that was, that is, and will always be, allowed this.”
They embraced and cried together. Bridazak glanced up and looked into the eyes of Truth and silently mouthed, “Thoss vule.” God smiled, his face like that of a proud father.
.
22
Darkness and Light
The celebration feast was in full swing. All the heroes sat together with their families at the massive table set before them with God at the head. Vibrant, colorful food covered the dining table-top from end to end. Jovial conversations abounded, erupting into laughter at different intervals. They ate to their hearts’ content; the tastes of each morsel elicited moans of enjoyment. Golden goblets filled with wine clinked and sloshed over at each toast.
Their God laughed and enjoyed each of them at his festival. Each of the heroes looked at their King of all Kings and saw him in the form that represented their kind. Sitting before them was love in a tangible form; no longer just a word or feeling, but instead something they could physically touch, see with their own eyes, and hear with their ears.
Bridazak was seated with his family and surrounded by his friends. He took notice of Xandahar, with his wife next to him and his son on his lap, the pure joy of their reunion displayed across their faces. Dulgin caught his attention next, when his Mah slapped the back of his head, scolding him about something. She, like her son, had red hair bursting like a volcano from her scalp. Bridazak smiled as he realized where Dulgin had inherited his attitude. Next to them sat Jack and his father, Ghent, pointing to the magnificent array of cookies and pastries, deciding which to try first. Then his eyes caught a familiar Ordakian; directly across from him, Billwick Softfoot raised his drink, and smiled as if he had known all along that it would end like this; maybe he had. There was no place Bridazak would rather be. He pulled more grapes off the table—beautiful, deep red, plump beauties draped over a silver stand near the center. As he pulled a portion of the vine laden with fruit away, he saw his reflection in the polished silver. As if caught in a trance, the clank of utensils and chalices around the table jolted him back to memories of the former realm he had come from, and resounded like a distant clash of battle.
God was suddenly standing behind him. “What is it my child? What do you see?”
Others at the table hushed to hear what was going on.
“It’s nothing,” Bridazak responded, not able to explain his feeling.
“Then let me make this announcement. I will be making a new realm. One that will never be corrupted. One where there will be no pain or suffering, only joy and love.”
Goblets rose up into the air in gleeful acceptance—all except for one.
“Bridazak, is there something wrong?”
“What will happen to the old realm?”
“It will cease to exist.”
“But what about the people that are still there?”
“My judgement will fall on those who have turned from me.”
“But what about El’Korr and his army?”
Others at the table mirrored his question with mumbles of concern.
“They will be invited guests, of course. They have fought valiantly for me and will be rewarded.”
Everyone loved his answer, and returned back to drinking and eating. Bridazak asked another question.
“What about other people—who don’t know you?” A hush returned.
God countered, his peaceful demeanor never wavering, “What about them, Bridazak?”
“Don’t they get a chance to know you? You created them.”
“Yes, I did, and do you think that I have not given them a chance? Do you think that I have not spoken to them in their dreams? Do you think that I have abandoned them or that I do not feel the loss of every soul that chose to ignore my calling?”
“But what if there were one?”
The question lingered in the room. Everyone waited in anticipation of the answer.
“Who will reach that one? Who is willing to speak to them in a world filled with evil and darkness?” God asked.
There was silence and then a lonely voice answered.
“I will,” Spilf chimed.
Everyone turned to him.
/> “My momah and bapah are still alive, and I want to go back for them.”
Bridazak glanced at his parents, who exchanged knowing looks, and smiled at their son. “I will join you, Spilf,” Bridazak said.
“You can’t go anywhere without me, ya blundering fools.”
One by one, Bridazak, Dulgin, Abawken, and Xan, volunteered to go back, including young Jack, who tightly embraced his father, then stepped out to join his heroes.
God’s face beamed with pride as he looked upon each of them, “Know this, heroes of Ruauck-El: you will feel the pain and suffering of the world and will be vulnerable in your mortal bodies once again. You will not be able to see me, but know that I will never leave you nor forsake you. I am your God and you are my people. Go out and gather those who have been lost. Spread the good news that I wait for them at the city gate. Do all in the name of love. You will be my hands and feet, treading through darkness, and you will bear my light.”
They were now alone with God who sat on his throne. The heroes stood before him. There was a sense of duty calling them back, and love was at the core. It was time to leave and help the suffering, and fight the evil works of the enemy of their king.
“My sons and daughter, I send you with the blessing of a Father.”
Bridazak looked down the line of them and was confused.
“You meant to say sons, right?”
God smiled and did not answer. A female voice behind them startled the group.
“Clearly, I am not a male.”
They turned to see Raina, glorious in her white robes.
All of them rushed to hug and embrace her, except for Xandahar. Smiling, she greeted each of them, until her eyes met her fellow Sheldeen Elf.
“Xandahar, please forgive me. Here and now, in this place, all that was behind us feels meaningless. Let us set our differences aside and join together once again.”
He stared at her for a long moment, searching his emotions as her words penetrated his heart. He felt the wound of the centuries-old ill-exchange now healing. He had blamed Raina for steering El’Korr and his army to Kerrith Ravine, instead of to the Tree. She’d commanded him away for his open dissent to her orders, and he had always been ashamed of obeying her, instead of insisting to stay by her side; moments later, he heard the explosion, and she and the troops were ensnared into the ever-burning flames.
“I have missed you, and I accept your apology.” He rushed over and lifted her off her feet, his arms wrapped around her tightly.
Bridazak had sensed the separation between them ever since the curse of the Burning Forest was broken. “Dulgin, do you know what is happening?”
The Dwarf shrugged, “Maybe a lover’s quarrel.”
Xan released his grasp of Raina, his countenance towards her completely transformed from a hardened tone to one full of joy. He smiled as he announced, “Rejoice with me, for my sister was lost, but she has now returned!”
Bridazak let out a deep sigh as all of his former misconceptions now formed into an understanding of their tension—a longtime sibling disagreement.
“Zeffeera awaits for you outside. It is time,” declared God.
Bridazak tilted his head slightly, pondering God’s choice words once again. “My parents sent me this message, but did God give it to them to begin with? Did he know we would go back?” He looked to God, who winked back at him. Bridazak smiled and whispered, “Will it ever not be the time?”
Golden doors appeared and then broke open to reveal the outside. The bronze dragon was perched at the bottom of the stairs.
“Ah, there you are,” her booming voice rang inside each of their minds. “Climb aboard, this dragon is leaving. Next stop, Ruauck-El.”
Just then, she spotted the Elf mystic, “Raina! You live!”
“Yes, I am alive, and eager to get back. It is good to see you, old friend. Ruauck-El has not seen the last of the Sheldeen Mystic. I told you that you would not be rid of me.”
They all smiled and walked down the stairs to reunite with Zeffeera.
“El’Korr, we are not going to make it!” Geetock yelled.
“We will be taking out as many as we can, then!”
Geetock growled, “These Reegs will see what happens when you back a Dwarf against a wall. It has been an honor, my Malehk.”
Screams of horror filled their ears as the first of his army were hit by the life-sucking beasts. The surge of dark shadow creatures came over the lip of the ravine while more evil gathered around them from the other three sides. Flashes of light sprang up throughout the hundreds of remaining dwarves, humans, and elves to combat the sentient dark-souls. The clerics of old fought valiantly as gurgled bursts of pain amongst both Dwarves and Reegs resounded like a cacophony of screeching sheps being slaughtered in scores. The burly, bearded clan bolstered each other with yells of triumph. None would admit defeat and each motivated swing of vengeance encouraged them to fight on. El’Korr was surrounded by his elite Wild Dwarves. His fearless brigade of protectors were a lone vessel amongst the endless sea of dark Reegs. The Dwarven King relentlessly hurled his magical hammer, thunderous impacts of light bursting forth at each connected hit. Horrific screeches of torment flared and then faded away as their souls were blasted back to the pits they had come from. Their heroic stand, mighty as they were, would never be enough, as the seemingly countless numbers of Reegs continued to flood deeper into their ranks. Their end was in sight; the inevitable was upon them.
Suddenly, a brilliant flash, like that of the glorious sun emerging over the horizon, ignited the darkened sky and caused many of them to look to the distance, including the reegs.
“Dear God Almighty,” El’Korr stared in awe.
“There they are, Zeffeera!” Bridazak pointed to the cluster of battling dwarves below.
“I see them.”
“It seems like time stopped while we were at the Holy City,” Spilf noted.
“How are we going to save El’Korr and the others?” Abawken asked.
“Look, the Reegs are scattering!” Dulgin pointed out.
“But why?” Bridazak asked.
“They must be scared of old Zeffeera,” Spilf chimed, patting her scales.
“Impossible,” Raina said.
The heroes were now back in their normal attire, though still clean and pristine, their armor and weapons shining like new.
They watched the violent enemy flee back into the darkness like cockroaches caught in light.
Jack was riding in the back and tapped Xan on the shoulder, “Um, you should see this.”
Xan peered backward and his mouth dropped open. “Everyone, look!”
They turned simultaneously to see hundreds of thousands of God’s army. Winged creatures of light soared in from the tear in the veil that hid the ancient city. Cheers erupted from the remainder of El’Korr’s men.
The voice of God sounded through the open portal as the angels continued to pour out, “I never said you would be going back alone. You will hear me in new ways, no longer are my words contained inside an orb. I have many rooms and even now prepare for your return with the ones you find scattered throughout the lands. Always remember, my love for you is greater than anything.”
Zeffeera landed and everyone aboard climbed down to properly embrace El’Korr and the others who survived.
Geetock commented, “You are all glowing.”
The returned group noticed it for the first time, and then Bridazak announced, “We made it. The Holy City has returned.”
El’Korr charged ahead of the others, to greet his kin. “Dulgin, you’re alive!”
“Good to see you, Brother!” During their embrace, El’Korr spotted his fallen mystic.
“How is this possible?” El’Korr asked as he looked upon her with his own eyes.
Raina bowed her head, “By the grace of God.”
Bridazak sat atop a large moonstone rock, overlooking the rag-tag military encampment El’Korr had established. This was a spot he frequented dail
y, his special location to get away and think, to pray and to process. He focused in on the multitude of sounds around him, closing his eyes, longing to pinpoint and hear the voice of God once again, hoping he would speak to him. Life felt strange now; he had grown so accustomed to calling on the voice at any time, but now there was a gaping hole without his presence. When he closed his eyes, sometimes he thought he could hear God whispering in the wind that rustled through the treetops. It brought him peace during the moments of uncertainty and a new hope filled his emptiness.
His hairy feet dangled over the ledge as he chewed on a sugar stick and watched his surroundings. He smiled slightly when he spotted Abawken, his faithful warrior friend, purposely intercept Raina. The human was infatuated with the Elf, but unfortunately the Sheldeen Mystic didn’t seem to notice; she was preoccupied with her studies of recent history in Xan’s library—catching up on the centuries she had missed while held captive in the curse. Bridazak gave Abawken credit though, he was persistent—there was not a day he didn’t try. On this particular day, he watched the tanned human’s clutched hand spring from behind his back, wielding a freshly picked bouquet of wild flowers. Raina was stunned at first, as she slowly took the gift into her hands. Abawken didn’t wait for her response; he bowed his head and quickly retreated. Bridazak finally saw a reaction from Raina; she smiled and brought the scented petals to her nose. The mighty warrior had indeed delivered his message, and it was finally received.
So much had changed since they had marched back to the Moonstone Mountains to regroup. It was a good location for El’Korr’s battered army, for the time being. Scouts had been sent out to invite those of their races still scattered across the realm to join forces with them. Rumors abounded throughout Ruauck-El of the fall of King Manasseh. The cracks from the pressure of a new era began to show; each week that passed brought new Dwarves, Elves, and even some Humans to the newly formed encampment at the Moonstone Mountains.
Bridazak shifted his gaze to his right when he heard a sudden yelp. “Ow! That hurt!” It was little Jack, the decade and a half year old human boy. Xandahar had been training him daily in the art of sword fighting. It was also a daily event for the young lad to get his butt swatted by the elven cleric-fighter. “It won’t hurt if you protect yourself,” Xan countered.