The Pain of Compassion

by Roland Boykin

  Sofia was just about to call for another burst of speed when Ronald pulled up, his horse struggling to keep its balance as he pulled the animal around and headed back the way they had just come. Her anger erupted and took control. His horse reared up on its’ hind legs and screamed as they both tumbled to the ground.

  Unable to move, she watched the terrible scene unfold before her. What did I just do? The outward flare of her anger vanished as if smothered by a bucket of water, and then re-kindled inward. What is wrong with me?

  The horse scrambled to its’ feet, apparently not seriously injured. A groan from the man on the ground forced Sofia to move. Afraid of what she might do to her own horse, she jumped off and ran over to where Ronald lay in a crumpled heap. She knelt down beside him and searched for any injuries.

  “What happened?” he gasped.

  “Your horse reared and you fell off,” she replied, unable to face the pain and uncertainty in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

  “It will be uncomfortable sitting a saddle for awhile, but nothing appears broken,” he winced as he sat up. Ronald grabbed the arm she put around him to help and tried to catch her eye. “What really happened, Princess?”

  “That’s not important right now. What I want to know is why you stopped and turned around.”

  He decided to let it go for now, but promised himself he would push her for answers later. “I am not much of a tracker, but anyone could have followed the tracks of that coach, and those tracks turned off of the road at this point. It only makes sense they would have someplace to hide the coach before they rode on into Whitecliff. I think we should find the coach, not only for any clues they might have left behind, but also the possibility of some shelter from the coming storm. Besides, it will be dark soon, and I don’t relish the thought of sleeping under a tree.”

  After Sofia helped him to his feet, she finally took the time to survey their surroundings. The sun was visible just above the horizon to the west, and dark clouds approached from the north. The area around them offered only open fields with an occasional stand of trees. Not a pleasant spot to be caught in a downpour.

  “Forgive me, Ronald. It appears that I have been spending too much time reacting, and not enough time thinking. You are absolutely correct. We must find shelter for the night, and whatever clues the attackers may have left behind. They might give us a better idea of what to expect tomorrow.”

  They traveled a short distance from the road, and came upon a small farm house and barn on the other side of a rise in the lane. Apart from a few chickens in the yard, nothing else could be seen or heard. Swords drawn, Ronald approached the house while Sofia headed for the barn.

  He soon emerged from the house, slammed his sword back into its scabbard and approached the barn, his jaws clenched. Sofia appeared at the side door of the barn and motioned him inside.

  One look at his face and she rejected the question she had been about to ask. “You were right. We would not have been able to catch them tonight. They took two of the horses from the coach and hitched them up to a wagon of some sort. This happened some time ago as the horses they left behind are completely cooled down.”

  Her observations confirmed what he had suspected after seeing the wagon tracks heading into and out of the barn’s main doors. “At least they will be traveling much slower now, and will have to stop for the night. We still have a chance to catch them before they reach Whitecliff.”

  Sofia stood with her eyes closed, arms folded across her chest as if in a hug. A barely perceptible change in her expression caused her face to look softer and slightly wilted. Opening her eyes, and in a voice minus the usual arrogance, she admitted. “This is very difficult for me, Ronald. For the first time in my life, I am unsure of myself.”

  “We have both been thrust into a situation neither of us has had to face before, Princess. Why don’t we take care of the horses, see what there is in the coach we can make use of, and then eat. Afterwards we will talk.”

  The Princess was uncommonly quiet as they went about their individual tasks. No caustic remarks resulted when he took charge and gave orders to her just as he would to any of his men. Ronald became seriously concerned, not only for her, but for himself as well.

  They settled down on a couple of overturned buckets in a corner of the barn. A small brazier provided some light and comforting warmth as the rain on the roof could be heard over the moaning of the wind. Ronald glanced over at the Princess, and knew he would have to initiate the conversation.

  “I think the first thing we need to talk about is your new found power.”

  “Power? I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Her eyes never left the glowing coals, but Ronald recognized the signs of fear on her face. He had seen it enough times on the faces of the young guardsmen he commanded.

  “What are you afraid of, Princess?”

  “I am afraid of nothing, Ronald. Even if there was something to be afraid of, I won’t let it deter me.”

  “Princess, the absence of fear is death. When we feel fear, it reminds us that we are still alive, and gives us the strength to stay that way. You cannot deny the fact you healed Gilfor and me with something more than herbs and stitches. And what about this afternoon? It was you who stopped my horse dead in its tracks and nearly killed us both, wasn’t it?”

  For a moment, Ronald felt his own fear as her eyes locked onto his, surprised he couldn’t feel the heat from the fire burning within them. The flames flickered and died to be replaced by shame.

  “By the Eyes, Ronald!” she cried. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I was angry, and just wanted you to stop. A power rose up inside me, and I acted without thinking. I am so sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. At least you have finally admitted to yourself there is a power in you. It is enough for now. What I would like to know is what is so significant about your handmaiden? I agree with you that those men probably had orders to kill everyone, yet she still lives. You have given up your crown to rescue her. Why?”

  Sofia leaned forward to add more coal to the brazier, her eyes once again focused on the glowing embers before she answered. “I don’t fully understand it myself, Ronald. She carries an item of great power. I cannot describe it since I have never seen it, but I have felt its power. Somehow, it made me swear to guard her life with my own. I must find her.”

  Ronald jumped up and started to pace back and forth, mumbling to himself. “By the Eyes, it must be one of the lost Deluti Amulets of Focus. That means the Princess … I never dreamed …” At which point he stopped to stare with apprehension at the Princess.

  “Ronald, what are you babbling about? Sit down and talk to me.”

  He slowly returned to his bucket, eyes still locked on Sofia, trying to gather his thoughts. How could he convince her that what he suspected was true?

  “Princess, I may be a simple soldier, but I love to study history, especially the history of the Deluti wars. As you may remember, the High Lord Demitrios ruled the world through the Council of Five. Each of the councilors wore an amulet that helped to focus their power, as a symbol of their position. Toward the end of the war, the councilors gave up their lives by forging their spirits into each one of the amulets.”

  Sofia was never interested in history, but when Ronald began to speak of the Deluti, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt something stir deep inside of her. “Why would they do such a horrible thing?”

  “None of the Five were as powerful as the Dark Lord, even with their amulets. If he had defeated any one of them and gained the power focus of their amulet, it would have given him an advantage over his brother Demitrios. After they died, the amulets were scattered and hidden throughout the land. He must not be allowed to gain possession of even one of those amulets.”

  “But how would that be possible, Ronald? The Deluti War is hundreds of years in the past. Surely, Scorpios must have passed away a long time ago.”

  “Princess, the Deluti are not hum
an. They are immortal beings, and can die only at the hand of another Deluti. It is said the High Lord still lives in the far northern mountains of Marlinor, and I have no doubt Scorpios lives far to the south of us in the Stagwood Marshe. Even the pirates avoid the evil that surrounds the South Shore.”

  Ronald went to check on the horses and look for more coals for the brazier. He also wanted to give the Princess time to absorb what she had just heard before he shared his conclusions on the source of her power. When he returned to their corner, the confusion was still evident in her expression.

  “I must admit, what Floanne carries could very well be one of those lost amulets, but what does that have to do with me?”

  “The last thing written in the history I read was a foretelling by the High Lord himself. ‘Many generations from now, the blood of the Deluti will return through the line of humans even stronger than before, and our time on this world will come to an end.’”

  Once again he stood, pulled his sword and held it point down as he knelt before the Princess, who shivered while searching his face for any sign of deceit.

  “The power of the Deluti is in you. As long as there is life left in me, I will stand by your side to support you and be your friend, if you’ll have me. In memory of my father, who gifted me this sword, this I swear to you, Princess.”

  “Never call me that again, Ronald,” she whispered. “The Princess is dead.”

  Just then, a bolt of lightning and the corresponding thunder shook the barn to its foundation. As the thunder continued to echo off in the distance, the two of them shared a look filled with trepidation and no little fear.

  Chapter Seven ~ The First Arch

  Navon and Moonlight walked slowly along the paved streets of the deserted city. The forest disappeared to be replaced by a softly glowing mist. The palace that seemed so close when they first entered appeared to move farther away as they walked. It then materialized directly in front of them after they rounded one of many corners. None of the structures they passed resembled anything Navon had ever seen, nor could he imagine what their purpose might be.

  As they walked, Moonlight shook her head and sneezed several times. Through the tenuous rapport they shared, he got the impression something was different about the air around them. After a moment, he realized there were no smells, and no moisture. The air was just as pristine and sterile as their surroundings. On a whim, Navon re-traced their steps, this time taking a different street, but upon turning at a different corner, the palace appeared before them just as before.

  “Looks like we have no other choice but to enter. Might as well get this over with.”

  His hand resting lightly on Moonlight’s shoulder, the two of them entered through an opening in the nearest tower. In the center of a large courtyard stood three arches arranged so that their sides touched. Faint murmurings filled the courtyard, as if a large crowd of people whispered to each other, yet there was no one to be seen.

  A spectral figure of white mist took shape before them. The apparition wore a single, sleeveless garment that hung from the shoulders in a seamless flow to just above the stones. Shoulder length white hair, and a beard that rested on his chest gave the impression of great age. However, the features of his face appeared both smooth and ageless.

  The sound of whispering faded as a strong voice spoke directly into Navon’s mind. “Welcome to the Palace of Wistaglon, young Navon d’Roddell. We hope this image is pleasing to your eye and will provide some comfort. Are you prepared to begin your testing?”

  “Wait! I understand none of this. Where are we? Why am I here, and who are you?”

  “Has your mentor not explained to you who you will become, and why you must undergo the testing?”

  Navon’s silence was his answer as he continued to stare at the figure before him. It still made no movements that he could see. Grateful for something to concentrate on besides the strange surroundings, the comfort he received from Moonlight continued to provide him with an anchor.

  During his silence, the whispers increased in volume, then quieted once more.

  “We must ask your forgiveness, Navon. Our awareness of your world is not as it once was. When the spirit in your amulet called us, we assumed you had received your training, and were ready for your trials. Perhaps this is for the best. You are the first of a race that has never existed before; a joining of Deluti and Human. The old rules may no longer apply.”

  So, his feelings all these years were justified. He was different. Navon’s hands clenched into fists as his eyes squeezed shut to stem the tears that threatened to flow. The pain of years being shunned and bullied rose up on the inside to taunt him. How many times had he run to his big brother, unable to bear the hurt? Why had no one told him? Is this why Father had ignored him even when he excelled at his studies?

  “Did my father know?”

  “Yes, your parents knew. We asked them not to show you any favor, or give you special attention. You had to learn to be independent, and not develop family ties that would interfere with your growth as a Deluti. Your life will be a solitary one as you must learn to rule without emotional attachments.”

  Navon dropped slowly to his knees next to Moonlight and held her close. The smell of her fur and warmth of her body provided a sharp contrast to the sterile atmosphere around them. Her feelings for him surrounded those hurtful memories and banished them. In their place blossomed love and confidence that filled him up and dried his tears. If the spirits were unaware of the love he felt for his brother and for Moonlight, they would soon learn. He rose to his feet to confront the vision before him.

  “You said it yourself; the old rules no longer apply. I am human and if I am to rule, it will be in whatever fashion I see fit. Now, what are these trials you spoke of?”

  Either the spirits realized how uncomfortable he felt addressing a motionless specter or they learned quickly. The figure now moved with a fluid grace as it raised an arm and pointed to an image of the amulet Navon wore.

  “The symbol of the Deluti uses three eyes to represent a vision of the power available through each one. One is for life, one is for death and the uppermost is the compassion to know when to use either. Each arch tests your ability to master one of those powers. The first one you must survive is the trial of compassion.”

  “I don’t understand. If the Deluti receive each of those powers through the amulet, why do I have to face these tests?”

  “Only one of the new blood is required to face the Arches of Rineron. If you succeed, you will become the next Deluti High Lord.”

  Long moments passed as Navon let that revelation sink in. When Emma told him the power of the Deluti resided within the amulet, it all seemed so unreal. Now, he could not deny the reality of what he saw around him. Is this what he wanted for his life? And if Sebastion was to be believed, the Scarred Mage still lived and threatened the lives of all the Elder Races. Could he stand by and not do his best to combat that threat?

  He glanced down at Moonlight who watched him with the same intensity as before. Whatever he decided, she would never leave his side. “What of the wolf?”

  “The bond between you was unforeseen, and cannot be broken. If you fail, she will die.”

  “Then I will not fail.”

  ***

  Back in the clearing, the only sound to be heard was an occasional crackle from the fire. Emma and Sebastion alternated between looking at the path Navon had taken, and staring at each other. Eventually the silence became too much for Emma.

  “Well, what do we do now?”

  “We doing nothing be,” he answered. “Amulet and pups him protecting. Wanting thinking time alone.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, fur face. It’s me the Old Man will hang from my toes if anything happens to Navon.”

  “I protecting you be, little one,” Sebastion grinned at her from his place by the fire.

  Before she could come back with a barb of her own, all the wolves sprung to their feet growling, and st
ared into the forest. Frantic howling could be heard in the distance, coming closer. The two male pups careened into the clearing, broadcasting terrifying images of a brilliant flash of light even Emma and Sebastion saw clearly in their minds. Silver Star and Drifting Snow were forced to clamp down on the necks of the pups to settle them.

  Emma, who had a better rapport with the elder wolf than the pups, had to wait for a clearer image of what frightened the pups. What she did pick up from Silver Star made no sense. A white clearing with white buildings suddenly appeared on the trail, a voice that sounded in their minds, and then Navon and Moonlight disappeared along with the clearing. Emma knew this forest better than any other and there had never been a white clearing like they described.

  All eyes turned to her. Once again, silence filled the clearing except for the quiet whimpers of the pups, and a low rumbling growl from Silver Star that Emma could feel.

  Sebastion stood, then sat again, hand clenched on the hilt of his sword. Slowly and carefully he spoke. “Little one, somehow we have failed. This is beyond any of us, and we need direction. Only you have the power to contact the Old Man.”

  Emma nodded and reluctantly reached inside her tunic to pull out the talisman she kept on a chain around her neck. The Ancient One had given it to her many years ago to contact him in an emergency. She had used it only once before in a fit of frustration, and received a tongue lashing for her actions. Even though this was an actual emergency, he would not be pleased at the interruption. At the touch of her finger along with a small release of power, a misty figure formed in the center of the clearing.

  A deep, powerful voice filled the clearing as High Lord Demitrios faced Emma.

  “This had better be important, little one.”