The Path of Decisions (8 page)

The Preacher smiled and called for a servant to lead Darius to his
guest rooms. Darius told the Preacher about Mezar and Leandra, his two friends,
and the Preacher provided rooms for them lower in the palace. The Elite Army
soldiers, however, stayed in the barracks and were watched closely.

The room Darius was led to had all the comforts imaginable,
including running water and eastern-born servants. Before retiring to bed, he
looked out of the high window. A full moon and stars made the domed roofs of
most of the buildings stand in a soft glow. Belor was a beautiful city. He
could understand why the Preacher wanted to defend it. His eyes glazed over as
he stood, trying to remember something important, but all he felt was a deep
tiredness.

With little more than a thought, Darius put out the flames of the
many candles around the room. He smiled at the small task.  He was already getting
better at controlling his powers. That night as the castle cooled down he lay
on the soft down bed and thought about the day. The longer he was away from the
Preacher’s presence the more he realized that maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly.
Just at the verge of falling asleep something pricked his mind again. A
warning. But it was slippery and slid away into dreams of being a great wielder
of magic and having servants do his bidding.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kelln awoke the next day on a hard, rocky floor. It took him a few
minutes to remember what had happened. He had been taken to a small room. It
wasn’t in the dungeon, for which he was grateful for. However, just being held
again in the building where he had undergone so much torture sent new pain
coursing through his mind. The only furnishings of the room were a small table,
one chair, and a blanket. A washbasin and a pitcher of water sat in the corner.
Kelln washed his face and looked out of the small square window, which seemed
to be at least twenty feet from the ground. People were scurrying and running
around below him as if something important had occurred. He heard a guard
outside of his room talking. He leaned his ear against the door to hear.

Kelln yelled for the guard to bring him some food. When the guard
came to check on Kelln he asked him about what was going on. It seemed that
Darius was the talk of Belor. He and the Preacher had been seen walking around
and chatting amicably that morning. Rumors were flying around about a union of the
two.

Kelln saw Darius coming up a long curved stairway. His old friend
was dressed all in black, in apparent facsimile of the Preacher. Kelln pushed
the guard aside, spilling his food everywhere. He ran toward Darius. “What do
you think you are doing Darius? You’re a traitor to the Realm!”

The guard jumped up and ran toward Kelln. He grabbed him from
behind and forced him to the ground, splitting his lip on the corner of a
broken stone.

“Bring him to his room and leave him with me,” Darius ordered the
guard. Kelln couldn't believe how the guard obeyed.

The door closed, leaving Kelln slumped in his chair rubbing his
lip. Darius brought him some water and a cloth.

“Tell me this is some kind of trick,” Kelln said.

“What do you mean, Kelln?” asked Darius with a smug face.

“Come on, Darius. I am your best friend. You can tell me what the
truth is. Tell me your real plan.”

“My best friend? Where were you when I was sent away suddenly from
Anikari?”

Kelln couldn’t believe his ears. “You can’t be serious. I couldn’t
leave here. You know that. The Preacher had me under lock and key, and now he’s
done something to your mind.”

“You asked my plan. The Preacher and I have been discussing plans
all morning. He is teaching me to use my powers. He is a great visionary, Kelln.
Changes need to be made in the Realm. Together we will demand that those
changes be made. It’s what we need, Kelln. Don’t you see? There is so much more
glory for the Realm if we fix things. It’s a perfect plan and a perfect time.”

“You’re crazy.” Kelln stood up. “The Preacher is crazy. You can't
fight against King Edward and the Realm. He got to you, Darius. The Preacher
did this to me too. He messes with people’s minds. Listen to yourself.”

Darius paused and shook his head for a moment. “Kelln, I feel different
when I am around him. I feel confident, and I have a clear vision of what to
do.”

“That’s what he wants you to think. He is manipulating you just
like everyone else.”

“I don't expect you to understand, Kelln,” said Darius. “You’re
not a military person. You don’t see all of the injustice occurring. We are all
being manipulated by the same king.”

“Darius, I lived in Anikari with you. Sure there are problems, but
things are not that bad. The Preacher is trying to get power for himself.
That’s all it is. He is taking your frustrations with your father and the King
and making them seem bigger than they really are. You just can't march in
and...”

“I can, and I will. The Realm has caused too much trouble for
everyone. These people here in Belor suffer, the farmers back around Anikari
suffer, and you and I have suffered because of the politics of the Realm.”

“It’s not because of the Realm. It’s because of men in the Realm.
Don't fight against them. If you want to change things, fight from within. You
will die in a war, Darius.”

Darius laughed. “I will not die. Don't you see the loyalty in my
men and the men of the Preacher? They will protect us so we can save them.”

“You aren't doing this for them. I understand now.” Kelln walked
closer to Darius, his voice rising louder. “You want the power.”

“You’re right, I want power, Kelln. Have you ever felt the power
of an army behind you? Of winning a victory?”

“Darius!” Kelln couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could he
make his friend see how the Preacher was manipulating his insecurities? He
thought back to all the years they attended the Academy together. Darius was
always the one to smooth things over for Kelln when he got into trouble. Darius
was always careful in what he said and how he treated others. Darius always
wanted to keep the Realm peaceful, not destroy it for his own power and glory.
Darius always was the one to get Kelln out of trouble. Now it was Kelln’s turn
to help Darius.

“And most of all, Kelln, the power I have inside. It’s amazing.
The Preacher can teach me how to use it to its full potential.”

“No. Alastair told me the Preacher uses his power for evil.”

“He’s just jealous. You all are jealous,” Darius yelled, his eyes
going out of focus.

Kelln couldn't believe his best friend had turned against him.
They had ridden horses together, played ball together, studied together, and
shared their innermost secrets together. What had the Preacher done to him?
What power had he used?

“Darius, do you remember when we got caught down under the library?
Remember when we found out about your powers and were talking about what we
wanted to do in life?”

Darius nodded, and his eyes seemed to refocus for a moment.

“You talked about how you couldn’t understand how your father
seemed to crave the power and glory of politics and that you missed him being
away from you and your mother.”

Darius nodded again. “That is true. No one should have the power
he and the King have to control other’s lives.”

“But don’t you see, Darius? You are doing the same thing. You are
caught up in power and glory.”

“This is who I am now, Kelln. I have been given the ability to
change things. You will see.” A new fire of madness glowed in Darius’s eyes.

It scared Kelln and frustrated him to see his friend this way. He
had to try and break the spell. “Look at yourself, Darius.” Kelln paused, then
in anger yelled out, “You are no better than you think your father is!”

With one flick of his wrist, Darius sent the power at Kelln,
pushing him away. Kelln flew across the room and smacked into a small table.
His weight broke two of the table’s legs into splinters. Darius made the chair
fly across the room, breaking into pieces against the stone wall above Kelln.
Kelln covered his head. He felt blood in his hair and winced at the pain. He
wanted so much to get up and hit Darius back, but somehow conversations with
Alastair came flooding into his head. He tried instead to hold back the tears
and find peace.

“You have changed, Darius,” was all Kelln whispered. He sat
crumpled on the floor, bruised and bleeding.

“I am the same, Kelln.” Darius headed towards the door.

“You are looking on the outside. Look on the inside. It has grown
cold. Look into your heart. Please, Darius,  don't do this.”

Kelln looked at Darius’s back and thought again about charging
him. It would not do any good. Not with the kind of power Darius now had.

Darius opened the door.

“What will happen to me?” asked Kelln.

“That is up to the Preacher.” Darius walked out holding his back
straight. “You are his prisoner.”

After Darius left, Kelln tried to rinse his face off in the water
basin, but the water hadn't been changed from earlier, and it seemed to smear
the dirt over his face. What was Darius saying? Surely he wouldn’t sacrifice
his old friend like this
.
Maybe no one was strong enough to resist the
Preacher’s power.

He sat down on the floor and leaned back against the rough brick
wall. His lip and eye were swelling, making his face ache with pain. He closed
his eyes and found himself dreaming of Anikari. A pleasant dream. Kelln knew it
to be a dream, but it helped him relax. He saw old friends in his dream. His
heart jumped as he remembered his family. He wondered what had become of them.

KING EDWARD

K
ing Edward DarSan Montere had been King of the Realm for many years
and his reign had been mostly peaceful. Lately however, too many events were
getting out of hand.  Today he sat slumped in his tall, cushioned chair. The
dark velvet drapes were pulled shut, and despite the numerous lamps, the room
seemed dark and depressing. Edward’s once-large frame seemed to have shrunken
in recent weeks. His face seemed older, and his thoughts were not always clear.
His first councilor, Richard San Williams, sat on a chair facing him.

“One of your messengers came in from Belor this morning, your
Highness. It seems my son, Darius, has been there for a few days. He crossed
through the Black Forest directly to Belor. I have sent a messenger requesting
him to return once again.”

“Good, Richard. It won't be long now. It won't be long.”

“But Sire, he has already disobeyed your orders, and there are
rumors of him becoming cocky and boastful. And now we find him in Belor
consorting with the Preacher.”

“He is young, Richard. Remember at that age what we all wanted? We
wanted to be noticed, to have people look at us, to have power.” The King
stopped and placed his hand against his head.

“What has happened, Edward? You were fine a few weeks ago.”
Richard stood up and paced the floor of the King’s private chamber. His dark
brown hair was similar in color to his son’s, but unlike his son, he kept a
trimmed mustache and goatee. He had noticed recently that his beard was showing
more gray.

“The doctor is convinced I was somehow poisoned. There is no other
explanation. He thought it would pass. However, I’m not so sure. It’s still
working deep within me. I can feel it. I think it started with those headaches
months ago. It must have been planned back then. A slow process that would not
attract any suspicion on anyone. It might be my time.”

“What do you mean, your time? You are still young. You could rule
the Realm for another twenty years. We will find an antidote.”

“We are all given a role to play, Richard. I kept the peace the
best I knew how. I realize I may have been too harsh at times, but I felt I had
no other choice. My purpose is gone. I wasn’t the rightful heir, anyway. Maybe
that is why my family has all passed on before me. Once my wife and daughter
died in the plague, I decided to do what was right and bring the throne back to
its rightful line. I was just bridging the gap until it was time for another…
your son… to take the next step.” The King coughed and took a deep breath. “I
recognize the look in your eyes, Richard. You think he is too young and too
brash. Maybe he is. But strength and wisdom brought on by age are not always
what is needed. Youth many times brings the vision and energy that is better in
certain circumstances. It’s not always our choice. We are directed by one
higher than us.”

“Who is higher than you, my King?” Richard felt helpless. Edward
must get better. Darius wasn’t ready. He may never be ready. What was all this
rambling from the King  about a higher power?  He was getting delirious.
Richard walked over to open the drapes and let some light in.

“I don’t know
him well. Alas, maybe that is also why I must give away my
kingdom now. But there is someone out there, Richard. Someone that directs us
toward good. I have felt him before, when I am doing the right thing.”

Richard remembered the time after an archery contest that Darius
had won. Richard was cross at his son for showing bad sportsmanship and letting
his anger control him. They had both said things to each other that were
hurtful. Richard had taken a walk around an old field, trying to decide what to
do about his son. He had felt something inside of him at that time also, but
had been too afraid to rely on it, and so he buried it back inside. It happened
to be the same day he found out about his son being in line to be the next
king.

Richard walked back toward Edward and dropped down on a chair next
to him. The lightened room made him feel better. It would be evening soon, but
the last rays of light cascaded across the walls opposite where they sat. He
still could not come to grips with his son being the next king. Oh, King Edward
had explained it to him numerous times. Richard’s father, at one time the heir
to the throne, had been disowned by his father, King Charles. That line had
then shifted to Edward, a younger son who was born a year after the banishment.
As a small child at the time, Richard was also included in the banishment with
his father, but his son, Darius, was not.

Darius still didn’t know. It was the worst of many secrets Richard
had kept through the years. Darius and he had not gotten along well the last
few years. Darius didn’t want to settle down and take on the role of a
councilor; he wanted freedom and adventure. His foray into the farmlands and
friendship with them had emboldened the farmers. Along with the recent troubles
in Denir and Belor, the farmers were revolting and stopping food from coming
into the city. No one was happy.

“Edward, we have been friends for a long time, so I must ask you:
why did your father disown my father? What did he do to deserve being dismissed
so cruelly from the royal line? What could have been so bad?”

The King sat up straighter and looked out the large glass window
across from him. Richard let him be for a moment. He knew it was uncomfortable
now for the King to move around much, but he grew restless after not receiving
an answer.

“Edward?” asked Richard again, when no answer came. “I have to
know.”

“Yes, I guess you do.” Edward smiled a reassuring smile.

Richard awaited the knowledge he had craved to understand ever
since he found out his father and he should have been the next Kings of the
Realm.

“Richard, your father married a... girl from outside of nobility.”

Richard thought for a moment. “It has been done before. I can’t
believe the King would disown him for that. I...”

The King interrupted him with a cough, then continued. “She was…
from the farmlands, and he had a child with her. That child was you.”

Richard stood up without even thinking and stumbled to the window
ledge. Grasping it hard, he looked straight down at the castle grounds. He
distinguished his own house a short distance away. Then his head lifted toward
the city walls and out into the distant farmlands. His hands clenched the ledge
so tightly that the ancient rock almost crumbled. Thoughts of his boyhood
played out in small sketches across his mind. He visualized his father and
mother. They had loved each other so much, but his father had given up the
kingdom for her.

“My mother was an outsider?” he screamed at the King. He couldn’t
believe he was a descendant of those who tried to take over the Realm through
rebellion. “That is who I am? One of them?” Spittle flew from his lips. He had
never been so livid in his entire life, and he knew it wasn’t an altogether
rational response.

Richard opened his mouth to continue the retort but closed it
before saying anything else. Why was it so bad? He had never paused to wonder
why the city people detested the outsiders. It was just the way it was. He
thought back to his boyhood and realized that he had never learned such disgust
from his parents. They were open and friendly to all. It was his own drive to
be something more than his father, to be a noble and to have the best things in
life that drove him to those attitudes.

 Whatever the reason for his hatred, this information should not
have been withheld from him. Rage filled his frame as he approached the King’s
chair. He stood over the King like a hawk looking at his prey. “Why didn't you
tell me before? There is no excuse for this, Edward. You had no right.”

The King’s face reddened at Richard’s accusations. “I had all the
right, Richard. Do not forget who I am. I
am
King of this Realm. It is
my responsibility to protect it and provide for it the best way I know how. I
must act for the good and benefit of the whole. Do not lecture me on what is my
right. You serve at
my
whim.” He began to cough hard.

Richard brought a goblet of water for Edward and helped him drink.
The King rested his head back down on his pillow and continued speaking, though
in a softer manner.

“We all have struggles to face, Richard. And there is a time for
each struggle.”

“You are becoming quite the philosopher as you die, Edward.”
Richard still felt betrayed and perturbed. “Don't you remember who the farmers
are? They were people kicked out of the city generations ago because of
disregard for the nobility and the rules of the Realm. They protected and
intermarried with insurgent wizards who disregarded the law and tried to rise
up against the true rulers. They were criminals and rebels. They are outsiders!
I can’t be one of them!”

“I agree some rebelled against the rule of the Realm. Maybe the
King’s rule was too harsh against the wizards of that time and they felt they
had no other choice. Other kingdoms have wizards. Why did we not want them? I
don’t know all the answers, Richard, but maybe they were justified in what they
did. “

“Justified? Never. It is never justified in fighting those who
rightly rule. They disgraced themselves. Those who didn’t die deserved to be
kicked out of the city.”

“Richard, that was so long ago. Why do we continue to call them
outsiders? All they are now is really farmers. Those lesser wizards originally
banished have melded in with the farmers for generations.” The King took
another sip from his cup and laid his head back. “They raise and grow food for
us. Why is that so bad? “

Richard plopped back in his chair. His whole life was unraveling
before his eyes. Why did this hurt him so much? It wasn’t that he was part
outsider— that did hurt, but it was more that there was information and secrets
about himself that he didn’t know.

“I have had to carry this burden with me. It has not been easy.”
King Edward’s voice trailed off.

Richard took a deep breath and tried to regain a calmness he
didn’t feel. “And my burden is?”

“Richard, I have had to carry the kingdom and try to make the
kinds of decisions I thought your father would make. I never remarried because
I wanted to restore the line back to your family. It is not easy being the
King.”

“Nor a king’s councilor.” Richard muttered under his breath.