The Path Of Destiny (2 page)

“But the Empire of Gildan has them. The Emperor there is
one, and his entire family I hear are wizards. And the Conclave of Wizards in
the Kingdom of Arc advise their king,” Kelln recounted.

“All of a sudden you are an expert on magic and wizards?”
Darius’s voice rose louder than intended. He took a deep breath and tried to
reason it out, but reason didn’t make any sense in this situation. He looked
inward and felt his heart stirring with new feelings.

“I have heard my father talk of a wizard in Belor,” Kelln
continued. “What if you are a wizard, Darius?”

“I am not a wizard.” Darius repeated himself. As soon as he
said the words out loud, doubts and fears rushed in. He again sensed something
stir within him. An awakening. Something calling to him. He didn’t like what it
might mean, and he dismissed his friend’s words. But there was the fire burning
above his palm. He couldn’t just ignore that, could he? But if he didn’t ignore
it, he knew he would be exiled out of Anikari, or worse, kept in a prison for
the rest of his life.

“Not a wizard?” Kelln flapped his skinny arms around him in
mock excitement, his green eyes sparkling. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that you
always
make fire come out of your hands. Just a normal occurrence for you.”

“Shut up, Kel.” Rare frustration flew out of the young
noble.

They both jumped back as a row of old lamps high up on the
wall roared to life with flames. They lit the room from one side to the other.

“Great need and emotion. Fantastic.”

Darius glared at Kelln’s flippant remark. He rubbed his
hands together, putting out the small flame, which they no longer needed. As he
did so he felt a receding of the power throughout his entire body. He knew that
his father didn’t like him befriending some of the people from the farmlands,
but having magical abilities would send his father into a tirade. Ever since
the wizard rebellion a hundred years earlier, the people of Anikari had been
apprehensive about magic, to the point of not allowing it in the city under any
circumstance.

“I wonder what all these books are for?” Kelln changed the
subject. He reached up on a shelf and pulled one down, dust falling down over
his simple white shirt. At least three dozen rows of books from floor to
ceiling filled the length of one wall of the room. The ancient volumes of books
sat on old brown-stained shelves.

With the added light, the two young men noticed their
footprints in the dust behind them along with the prints of the ladies who had
been downstairs before. The dark wooden floor showed years of dust. A few old
portraits and maps hung on the wood paneled walls opposite of the shelves, with
a few smaller study desks lined up under them.

“Those ladies made it sound as if this room is secret.”
Darius turned and picked a book off the shelf that he was leaning on. He blew
off the years of dust on the cover and sneezed three times.

“
The Battle of Denir, volume 3
,” read Darius from the
front of the book. He opened the ancient book up to see handwriting that was
faded and old. “Anikari III,” he whispered.

“What?” asked Kelln coming closer.

“This was written by Anikari the third,” said Darius.

“You mean King Anikari’s grandson? The last Anikari king?”

“I’m sure of it,” answered Darius as he thumbed through the
pages, “The final large battle between the Realm and the Gildanian Empire over
400 years ago. Their empire tried to take over our young Realm.”

Kelln glanced down at the book he held. “
The Kingdom of
Arc and Its Founding
. These must be books written by the kings and emperors
of the past.”

Darius ran his fingers across another volume:
Genealogy
of the Kings.
He opened up the last page. Written in a flowing script was a
lineage of the last few kings. “Kelln, look here. This book ends with King
Charles, but King Edward isn’t listed after him. Instead it says Alric, but
someone has scribbled it out. What do you think that means?
”

“Alric? Who is Alric? Never heard of him.”

“My grandfather’s name was Alric, but it’s a common enough
name around the Realm. I barely remember him though.”

Kelln wrinkled his nose. “Forget the book, Darius. Who knows
with royalty.”

Darius put down the book. “You’re right; it doesn’t have
anything to do with us. King Edward does need to have another child though. I
have heard rumblings from my father about needing an heir to the throne.”

“I will let you nobles worry about that. Whoever is king
doesn’t affect me much, I suppose.” Kelln shrugged his shoulders, then motioned
for Darius to turn around.

Darius turned around. They stood at the far end of the room,
peering down its long rectangular length.

“Fantastic sight, huh?” said Kelln.

Darius raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Quite fantastic, as you
say. One of your most interesting adventures.” The lamps on the walls lit the
length of the room. Even covered in years of dust the site was reminiscent of
rooms in the castle itself. The finest wood, gold lamps, and leather-bound
books sat in eerie silence.

“Come on now. Admit it. You like my adventures.” Kelln
slapped his friend on the back.

“After this I think I'll want to stay right here in Anikari
and live a nice peaceful life with a beautiful wife,” answered Darius.

“Like with Christine?” Kelln teased. “Not me.” Kelln walked
down the long room, looking for a way out. “I want to travel the entire Realm.
See Belor, Denir, and Mar. Maybe even beyond to the Empire of Gildan or the
Kingdom of Arc. It's boring around here. Come with me.”

Darius smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm. “I guess I will
put off settling down until I am a general in the army and keeping the Realm
peaceful.” He watched Kelln raise his eyebrows at the lofty goal, but his
friend held his tongue.

Both boys reached the far end of the room with no sign of
another door. Darius thought about knocking on the door up the stairs until
someone heard them. He just didn’t want to face his father again. There must be
another way out.

“What about your father?” asked Kelln. “Doesn’t he want you
to be a councilor to the King like him?”

“You know I can’t stand the politics. The councilors have
forgotten what they are supposed to do. They are appointed to protect and help
all people, not just the nobles. I want to help the Realm become great once
again. I want to protect our borders and protect all people, not just the
nobles.”

Darius stopped in the middle of the room, his shoulders
slumped. “Kelln, what do I do now?” Looking at the lamps on the wall, he was
reminded again that magic was not gone in Anikari as everyone supposed. “Should
we just forget this ever happened?” He moved his arms around the room, pointing
to the dozens of lamps that he had lit.

Kelln, with rare seriousness, shook his red head from side
to side. “I don’t know, Darius. It is quite fantastic, but I don’t know what to
do this time. It could be dangerous.”

THE SWORD

K
elln and Darius continued to
look around the walls of the cavernous room for a way out. It seemed like hours
passed, but still no sign of any kind of outlet had been found.

No door. No window. Nothing.

“This building must be one of the oldest ones in the entire
Realm,” Kelln whispered. “There has to be a way out.”

“The Realm is over five hundred years old, Kelln. I’m sure
there are a lot of old buildings around. But I agree there should be another
way out of this room. Let’s start at the other end once more, back behind the
shelves.”

Reaching the other side of the room, the two young men
stopped moving and stood in silence for a moment, each in his own thoughts.
Their physical builds were opposite. Darius took after his father, Richard:
large build, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and grey eyes. His skin color was
lighter than his father’s though, and closer to his mother, Elizabeth. Kelln
stood about six inches shorter than Darius, with bright red hair that never
stayed combed. His skin was fair, full of freckles, and his voice came a few
pitches higher than Darius’s.

“Darius.” Kelln’s voice finally held some sense of worry and
exhaustion. “I’m out of ideas. You?”

“Kel.” Darius motioned Kelln over to a cabinet that was
hidden behind a smaller bookshelf.

“What’s that?” Kelln asked.

“I’m not sure, but I feel something. Something important is
inside.”

Kelln raised his eyebrows at Darius, but reached down to try
and pry open the black cabinet. They pulled hard but couldn’t move the door. No
apparent lock existed. They moved their hands and fingers around the back and
underneath. Kelln stepped back.

“A stupid box with no door. It’s not like a secret passage
is hidden inside or something. Come on, Darius, leave it alone. We need to find
our way out of here.”

“Tiring of adventure already?”

“That’s not fair, and if you have to know, I’m hungry.”

Darius laughed hard. As he did so he ran his hand over the
front of the wooden case. His hand was guided by an unknown invisible force. As
his laughter died, they heard a click, and the front swung open.

“But . . . how . . .” Kelln stumbled over his words.

“I felt something from inside and thought about it, and when
I laughed the cabinet opened.”

“The laughter,” Kelln stated. “It was emotion again,
Darius.”

Darius didn’t answer. At the moment he didn’t want to think
about his newfound abilities or what made them work. Besides facing his father,
how could he ever face Christine? She was special to him and he didn’t want
something like this to ruin things.

Darius peered inside the black case. It was darker inside
than it should be, but a golden, polished sword stood upright inside the case.
Darius reached his fingers forward.

“Are you crazy?” Kelln batted Darius’s arm back.

“It’s fine, Kelln. The sword is reaching out to me.” How
could he explain to Kelln the feeling that was emerging in him? How could he
explain the calmness he envisioned everything with at that moment? The edges of
his vision were sharper. His mind opened and there seemed to be pure knowledge
flowing into him. Part of him wanted to push it away, but part of him was
intrigued and excited. In that moment the possibilities that were opened to him
were endless.

“Great. Now you can talk to objects. Aren’t you taking this
wizarding a little too far?”

“I’m not a wizard, Kelln. How could you say that? The books
say wizardry runs in families. You know my father. He certainly isn’t one.”

Kelln shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t seem convinced.
“Wizards of earth, mind, and heart,” Kelln mumbled.

“What?” Darius asked.

“Everyone knows there were three types of wizards. I wonder
which one you are?”

Darius glared back at his friend without a response. He
seemed to be an unsolicited fountain of magical knowledge today. He guessed it
was the stress of the situation. In times like these Darius was calm and liked
to think, while Kelln seemed to want to talk.

They both turned back to the sword. Hesitating only a moment
longer, Darius reached in and grabbed the hilt, pulling the shining sword out
of the dark case. The lamps in the room started dimming and their flames
started flashing in random patterns. Darius felt his mind pulled away from the
room and flowing back in time to when the sword was created.

He watched an old man, red-faced and sweating, leaning over
a flaming forge with wizards casting spells into the molten metal. Three
wizards and what looked like a Cremelino horse stood around the forge with
colors of magic hanging in the air and being drawn into the sword itself. The
odor of hot fire burned Darius’s nostrils and throat when he tried to breathe.
He saw men at arms guarding the forge as a small group of others began to
attack. He gasped at what he was seeing. His mind raced back to the present and
knocked him to the ground. The lights flashed off.

“Darius. Darius. I told you not to touch it. Where are you?
I can’t see anything. What’s going on?” Kelln’s voice bordered on panic.

Darius moaned from the ground. “I’m fine.”

“Well if you’re so fine, can you bring the lights back on?”

Nothing happened for a long ten seconds, then a blinding
light lit the room around Darius, causing Kelln to turn away. Darius held the
sword, now shining white, above his head. Without thinking he uttered a strange
phrase. The sword dimmed to a low glow, and Kelln turned back around. Darius
brought the sword down in front of him.

“What in Anikari’s name was that? That was fantastic!” Kelln
looked shocked to the core. “Your face looks sunburned.”

“The forge.” Darius felt dazed. “I saw the forge in my mind.
I watched them making this sword. I stood right next to the fire. Three wizards
were chanting spells over its making.”

“Earth, mind, and heart. The three types of wizards. That
makes sense.” Kelln reiterated his earlier comment. “What did you say when you
were holding the sword up?”

“I don’t know what I said. The words just came to me.” He
turned the sword over in his hands. “There’s an inscription here that was burned
into the metal when it was created. I don’t understand what the symbols mean
though.”

“You’re worrying me. What did you get yourself into?”

“Try being in my head right now, Kelln. I can sense things I
couldn’t sense before. I can feel the sword, the room, the library upstairs.
Everything is clearer to me. This sword was meant to protect the Realm. That is
what I must do, Kelln. Protect the Realm.”

“Well before you run off and become General Darius San
Williams and save the Realm, do you think you can use that power to find us a
way out?” pleaded Kelln.

“I think I can.” Darius smiled as he strode back across the
room. The lamps remained dark, but the low glow of the sword gave off enough
light to see. He stood in the middle of the room, over a carpet, and closed his
eyes. It seemed easier that way. Only seconds later he walked over to a rug on
the floor and knocked on it with his sword.

“Listen.”

“Hollow,” said Kelln. He started pulling back the rug,
almost knocking Darius off his feet.

In quick fashion they pulled up a secret door that led to a
steep stairway down under the room. They both stood for a minute looking around
the room. Kelln ran over to grab a book off the closest desk.

“What?” glared Darius. “You can't take that.”

“It's only one. It might come in handy someday when we
travel. Call it a souvenir of our greatest adventure . . . so far.” Kelln
smiled. “Anyway. Are you going to leave the sword here?”

Darius was silent.

“I didn’t think so.”

With that, they headed down the narrowing stairs to a small
tunnel. The sword still glowed, lighting their way. If possible, it was even
darker there in the small, dusty tunnel than back in the room. They were not
sure where they were; somewhere between various walls in the old
castle-turned-school. The building had been constructed over 250 years before.
At first, it had been used as an ambassador’s castle of sorts. Ambassadors and
other important people from countries far and close had stayed here waiting to
do business with the king and his councilors and wizards. King Edward’s father,
King Charles, had built a newer building closer to the castle. At that time,
this old castle had been made into a school.

A few old wooden doors in dark, recessed doorways dotted the
sides of the tunnel. At the end of it all hung a metal door, larger than the
others. Running to the potential exit, Darius reached it first and tried to
pull it open by its large handle. Nothing! It seemed to be locked.

“Try the sword on the door,” said Kelln.

Darius put the sword in the slit between the door and the
doorframe. He brought the blade up to the top of the door and brought it down
with as much force as he was able. They heard a cracking sound and sparks flew
out from the door frame. Darius shielded his eyes for a moment as the sword brightened
again. The lock cut in half.

Kelln pulled on the heavy door a few times before it came
open. Water drops flew inside, dotting their faces with the heavy drizzle that
hung in the spring air. They both glanced at the sword and without saying
anything Darius started to hack away at the bushes around the hidden doorway.
Ten feet later they found themselves standing in mud up to their ankles, next
to a small hill in the back of the school property. The archery fields and
small sports stadium were a little over the rise to the east.

“That sword is fantastic,” exclaimed Kelln. “What does it
feel like?”

Darius ran his forefinger up and down over the astonishing
sword. There was not even a scratch on it, and it sat in perfect balance in his
hand. He still experienced the power flowing over him.

He handed the sword over to Kelln. “Here.”

Kelln took hold, the sword dimming to its original gold
shine. Kelln waved the sword in the air a few times. With his dad being a
master sword maker, he knew the value of a good sword. He had spent many days
throughout the years helping his father in the forge. It was tedious work that
bored Kelln.

“Do you feel anything?” asked Darius.

“Nothing, though my dad would love to see this. Its
workmanship is flawless and the balance is perfect. If this was used as a
pattern, we would be able to arm our men better against any attacks from Arc or
Gildan.”

“I have heard of problems in our own Realm. Down south in
Belor.”

Kelln frowned. “So have I, but I don’t like the way my
father is talking about it.”

“What do you mean?”

Kelln handed the sword back. “Nothing. Forget it. “

Darius could tell his friend didn’t want to talk about it.
It was rare that Kelln didn’t want to talk, as besides getting into troublesome
adventures, talking seemed to be his favorite pastime.

Darius moved bushes back in front of the door and the path
they had cut so their footsteps weren’t so obvious.

Kelln went back to talking about the sword. “It didn’t start
to glow again when you took it back. I guess there is no need now.”

“Quite the expert on magic artifacts now, are we?” Darius
smiled at his friend.

“My father’s family is from Belor. It’s part of our culture
and past. I grew up listening to stories of the old magic. The days of wizards
and the magic of the Black Forest were regular dinner conversations.”

“You believe all that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I just don’t know what to believe. I know that the nobles
say their fear of magic came from the wizards’ revolt a hundred years ago, but
it also just might be a story to justify their persecution of the farmers.”

“Darius! Are you daft or what? I saw fire come from your
palm, lamps light with no fire, and a glowing sword. If this isn’t magic, then
tell me what it is.”

Darius paced and grew serious. “I’ve been brought up my whole
life to not trust anything magic. It almost destroyed our kingdom once. Promise
not to tell anyone?”

“But . . .”

“No one. Kelln. No one. You hear me. Not until I know what
is happening to me for sure. If my father ever found out I don’t know what would
happen to me.”

“Fine. Sure. You don’t have to get angry.”

Darius didn’t want to get mad at Kelln. He was just plain
afraid. During the wizard revolt, wizards had tried to take over the government
in Anikari. It had been a long and bloody battle. In the end the stronger
wizards were all killed, and the lessor ones exiled outside of the city. Over
the years those weaker wizards had mixed their blood with the farmers, but the
nobles still talked down to them and referred to anyone outside the city as outsiders.

Darius still felt the power flowing through him. Now that he
had done so once, he knew without even thinking that he could pull forth a
flame again. That in itself alarmed him. He had no training in these types of
things. What did it all mean?

“Promise?” he asked again to make sure. He stuck his right
hand out to shake Kelln’s right hand, then left hand to left hand, the ultimate
promise, signifying the entire body, both heart and mind, would abide by the
promise.

They ran through the field to the nearest road and began to
head back towards the school. It was later in the afternoon now and they hoped
that classes hadn’t started up again. A drizzle in the air made everything wet.
They would have to find a place to clean up first.

Without paying attention, they almost ran directly into a
group of other boys walking down the dirt road back towards the school.

“What are you guys doing,” said one of them to Darius,
“skipping out of school?”

“Huh?” Darius hesitated. He recognized these boys and had
never liked them. They were younger sons of some minor nobles who always tried
to act tough. Darius had run into a few of them just a week earlier, when they
had been bullying a younger student. Darius had helped the young man and stood
up to the bullies. Remembering the sword in his hands still, he slid it behind
his back.