The Path of Decisions

by Mike Shelton

  “Let them all die!” shouted someone as others joined in.

  “What about the children?” asked the same widow in a worn-out voice.

  “Who invited you here, old lady?” asked one of the men. “I don't remember seeing you around here. Who are you?”

  The widow answered that she was a poor farmer from up north of the farmlands. The man who had questioned her moved closer to her.

  “I thought I knew everyone from up in that area. That is where my family is from. Why don't I know you?”

  The lady shrunk back into the shadows a little further. The room had all turned toward her with their threatening looks.

  “Let me see your hands!” demanded the man.

  The old women started to turn them over but then pulled out a knife from under her coat. She jumped onto a wooden fence in the barn and shouted for them to get away. Shouts erupted at this imposter from the city. Her hands showed no signs of farming or even much age. She ran for an open window and dove through.

  Christine’s eyes went wild, and she jumped to follow the lady. The crowd seemed to freeze for a brief moment, as if all of them were deciding what to do. As Christine neared the barn door, someone stepped in front of her and grabbed her wrist.

  “Christine, this has to stop.” It was her brother Jain. Though barely sixteen years old now, he held her in a strong grip.

  “Let go of me, Jain. Let me get that woman.” Christine’s eyes darted toward where the woman had gone. She tried to pull away.

  “Then what will you do... kill her?”

  The room fell silent awaiting the answer.

  “If that is what it takes.” Eyes blazing and hair messed up, Christine's jaw tightened. Jain held her firm. “Whoever that lady was, she had a good point. What about the children in the city? What if they starve?”

  “Jain, don't you remember how the children in the city treated you when you were a child? They teased you and beat you up. We need to get back at them. To teach them a lesson.”

  “By killing them?”

  “If some die, maybe others will listen.” She pulled her arm away from Jain and turned to the rest of the room. They stood in silence, watching the two siblings argue the points they all held inside of them. “Would you rather their children die or ours?” she asked.

  “Why is death the only choice? Why is killing and fighting the only choice?” Jain raised his voice.

  “Jain, you always wanted to fight. What happened? Ever since our father died you seem to have forgotten how to fight.”

  “No, Christine you are wrong.” His voice boomed in anger, and his neck muscles bulged. “I remember what we fight for. We fight for understanding, not revenge. That is what our father would want. Remember, Christine! Remember how peaceful he was. He would not agree to what you want to do. You used to believe in peace. You always told me to stop fighting when I was younger. I see that now. What happened?” Jain stood on the edge of tears.

  “They killed our father!” Christine's eyes became moist as she stood in defiance of everything her brother said to her. Couldn’t he understand that she wasn’t the same person she was a year ago? A year ago, she had Darius by her side, her father still lived, and food was stored in the barns. She didn’t like the violence either, but what was she to do? She couldn’t stand idly by any longer and watch the city stomp on the farmlands. “That is what happened, Jain. They burned our farms and killed my father.”

  “I hate that they killed him, Christine. I still cry for him at night, hoping it was a bad dream. Hoping he will return. However, all of the hoping, praying, or killing won't bring him back. You need to accept that and just go on the best you can. Make things better for those younger than us, not worse.” Jain walked closer to his sister and lowered his voice. “Look at the good our father did, the kind of man he was. What would he want? He would not want us to plan to kill with such openness and ease.” He paused. “Against the army of Anikari, what can we do?”

  Christine felt a pinprick of emotion welling up inside her, but she couldn’t let it out. Not now. She had lost too much. She couldn’t be swayed by her brother’s words. “Don't you understand what they have done to us and what we need to do to get back at them? They can't get away with this. Jain, I am your sister. Listen to me!”

  “You are not my sister, Christine. My sister is warm, understanding, kind and fun.” Jain held his dark, blond head low and started to walk out. “What happened to my sweet sister?”

  As Jain left the barn all eyes turned back to Christine. Christine stood still for a moment, regained her composure, and asked, “Are we going to listen to him? He is still a boy.” She walked toward the group. Silence filled the cold evening.

  Thomas came forward. “I think we’d better end tonight. It’s late.” Others mumbled and echoed his words, and the crowd disbursed, leaving Christine standing alone.

  Two days later a wagon of winter vegetables approached the city gate from the farmlands. Its wheels turned in slow rotations through the rain-soaked road. The driver felt and heard a loud bang on the back of his wagon. Turning back, he saw his vegetables rolling out of the back. Three hooded figures on horseback smashed them before the driver could stop and get off. As he ran to the back of his wagon, the three riders were already far down the road— two brown horses led by a large white horse of extreme speed.

  The man surveyed his smashed food as the guard from the city gate came out to see what was happening. Few vegetables were salvageable. The farmer had lost most of his wagon and most of his monthly income.

  Over the next few weeks similar disturbances happened more frequently at both the west and north gates. Grain stored in the large silos in the farmlands was not able to make it safely to the city. The wagons came less often. Only a few were fortunate enough to deliver to the city by going in the middle of the night.

  People in the city began to take armed guards out to stop the bandits from spoiling their food, but they were not fast enough. The bandits started attacking farther and farther away from the city. Soon all wagons stopped, and the city had to pull out all of its food reserves in order to continue to feed the people.

  Caroline, Christine’s mother, approached her one day and reminded her of spring planting and that they would need help this year with Stefen gone.

  “We don’t need to plant so much food anymore.” Christine said.

  Her mother looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “We only need to plant for the farmlands. The city will not be getting any more deliveries.” Christine’s hair was dirty and tied in a ponytail, her cotton dress hanging loosely on her thinning frame.

  “Christine, what are you doing?” Her mother’s voice pleaded. “You need to eat. You are getting sick.

  “I have to go, Mother.” Christine walked to the back door. Lightning stood just outside the door, waiting for her. Jumping on top of Lightning, Christine barely acknowledged her mother.

  Christine, you can’t keep doing this.

  “I am doing what needs to be done.” She spoke out loud to her Cremelino. “Only a few help me now, but more will see the way soon. We stopped most of the food deliveries.”

  But the prophecy…

  “I don’t understand your prophecies. What do I have to do with them? I am a farm girl. No prophecy could include me. No prophecy could foresee or even care about us here in the farmlands.” They rode at a quick trot back toward the city gate. Christine had to make sure no other deliveries were made.

  The prophecy is about Darius.

  Christine tightened her lips, keeping the tears inside. Nine months without Darius. Nine months without his laughter, his strength, his comfort. She still remembered his arms wrapped around her. It seemed he had pulled fear and frustration right out of her, leaving her with a feeling of peace and contentment. Oh, how she wished she had him with her now.

  She was doing all she could to make things right, but no one seemed to understand, least of all her family and friends. Was she doi
ng what was right? She was terrified of losing more than she already had, but she couldn’t sit still and do nothing.

  So every day, with a few additional supporters, she would stop deliveries of food to the city. It was working. People in the city were starting to feel the pinch.

  The King sent a few soldiers out to the farmlands to reason. Some of them started to negotiate, but Christine knew it wouldn’t do any good. They needed to make the city hurt before they got some concessions. The King, with men in Denir and Belor, couldn’t spare many men to stop Christine and her band of crusaders. Many of the farmers did not agree with her methods, but when pressed for names from the guards, the other farmers held their tongue and protected their fellow farmers.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Thomas, Karel, Anya, and Stephanie were together one evening discussing Christine and what they knew she was doing. Anya leaned against Thomas, who leaned against a wall next to the stone fireplace in his small farm home. Stephanie and Karel sat in two wooden chairs next to the hearth. They held their hands toward the small fire, warming them from the early spring chill hanging in the evening air. No one spoke at the moment. The fire seemed to consume their attention. A loud pop sent a spark onto the floor, jarring Thomas from his thoughts.

  “We need to stop her. That’s all there is to it. I know she was our friend. But this has gone on too long. Someone could get hurt. She could get hurt.”

  “We've been through this over and over Thomas,” said Karel. “What can we do?”

  “Remember when she used to talk about freedom through peace?” reminisced Stephanie. “Now she won’t have anything to do with anything peaceful. She is making things worse for the farmlands.”

  “She even looks sick,” Karel continued. “I think Jain was right when he said it’s just not Christine anymore. Something snapped in her.”

  “She won't even talk to me,” added Anya. “We used to be best friends. I’ve known her most of my life. I want to help her.” Anya put her face into her hands. “But I can’t stand being around her right now.”

  The talk continued, going over and over what they had already discussed time and time again. Something had to be done, but they didn't know what. When it came down to it, she was still their friend, but she wouldn't listen to them or anything reasonable. Finally, Thomas stood up.

  “I don't care if she is our friend. This has gotten out of control. The King’s army will in all certainty march into the farmlands and take what they want as soon as they return from the other cities. As her friends, it is up to us to stop her. I have a plan, but we will need Jain’s help too.” The group of friends moved closer together as Thomas started explaining his idea. As he did so, one by one, frowns covered the faces in the small room.

  Chapter 7

  THE BLACK RIVER

  The sun shone the day after Darius and Kelln’s reunion, promising warmer weather. Darius and his unit of the Elite Army, along with the captured Belorian soldiers, faced the task of trying to cross the Black River. It had swollen with the recent storm, and the water raged with small white caps as it bounced off rocks and fallen trees. A group of soldiers spent the first part of the morning scouting up and down the river for the best spot to cross. A few miles downriver, closer to the Gildanian swamp that bordered the Realm’s southern neighbor, they found a place where the river seemed to be narrower and less rough. Darius had two men take a rope across on horseback to the other bank. The men struggled but were able to cross with the help of the Belorians’ strong horses. The men tied the rope to a sturdy pine on each side of the river. This would give something for them to hold on to as they crossed through the chilling water.

  The water was a numbing cold and would send them into hypothermia if they did not get warm on the other side. The first soldiers to cross had the task of starting a fire and setting up the tents. One by one they crossed— Darius waiting until the last. The prisoners were escorted across first; then two of the captains helped Leandra and Alastair. Only Alessandra, Kelln, Mezar, and Darius were left. Alessandra and Kelln began to walk across the waist-high water.

  In front of Kelln, Darius watched Alessandra stumble. One arm came off the rope as the raging current pulled at her body like a leaf in a windstorm. Instinct caused Kelln to reach for her, but in doing so he lost his own footing. The rushing river swept one foot up out of the water, one hand remaining on the rope, the other flailing around for something to grab on to. Mezar, who stood behind Kelln, had only begun walking across. He reached out a sure hand for Kelln and steadied him.

  Alessandra’s eyes glazed over in helplessness. Her feet were being pulled by the river, and one hand had slipped off the rope. She screamed as the strong fingers of her remaining hand continued to slip off of the slick rope.

  “Help,” she continued shouting. Her cries were lost in the roar of the river to all but the few around her. Men watched from the other side with helpless stares. She hadn't been able to regain her hold, and her face shivered white in the bitter, rushing water.

  Alessandra kicked wildly, trying to get upright. Kelln reached for her once again, but he was too late. Her last fingers slipped from the rope, and she disappeared beneath the powerful current. The others caught a glimpse of her head for only a second before the water swallowed it up.

  Kelln shouted to the other side for some men to ride down river and find her. They looked to Darius, and he reiterated Kelln’s command.

  Alastair looked about wildly, not seeing what was happening. “Kelln, where is she?” He roared over the din of the river.

  Kelln felt dazed and only looked downriver until he realized that Alastair couldn’t see where he was looking. “She fell into the river. Darius’s guards will find her.”

  Alastair sat down hard onto the ground, his weathered face crushed.

  Darius reached for the rope and started to cross as fast as he could. As he did so, he felt the rope begin to sag and unravel.

  “Hold the rope!” he commanded. He looked ahead and saw Mezar pushing Kelln forward. Kelln seemed to stagger in a daze as he looked downriver.

  The rope slipped from his hand again as Darius’s foot slipped on a rock. One leg kicked out into the water. But he held on. Kelln had reached the other side, and Mezar was halfway between Darius and the eastern bank of the river.

  “Hurry, Mezar!” yelled Darius. “The rope cannot hold both of us much longer. It is too wet.”

  The rope was splitting right between them. Darius’s mind reached out without him realizing it. The power in him surged, but before he could do anything, he became aware of the touch of another power. This was the first time he had ever felt someone else’s magic so directly, but he recognized it for what it was. The power held the rope together. Darius didn’t have time to think but grabbed ahead on the rope as fast as he could. He slipped once and hit his knee on a rock, propelling himself toward the other side.

  Darius saw Mezar fall onto the other bank in front of him and the soldiers reached up and pulled him to safety. He felt the other power leave, so he pulled upon his as much as he could to keep the rope stable. He tugged hard on the rope and thrust himself out of the water, falling on the bank where two men caught him. He looked back at the rope and let the power go. The rope split in two, its two ends dangling back into the current of the river.

  He fell over on the ground and fought to stay conscious. Using the power had drained him. His head hurt, his knee was swollen, and his strength was failing. The numbing water had made his legs stiff. Some men picked him up and brought him to the fire. He propped himself up against some logs and was given something warm to drink. Soon he stood up.

  “Sir, you need to rest,” said his medical officer.

  Leandra came over to him to comfort him. Darius tried to stand on his own, but his knee started to buckle. He locked it and stood firm.

  “This is a test of our strength.” Darius spoke to his men. “These are the things we were trained to do. We will rest tonight and then go forw
ard into Belor tomorrow.”

  “Not everyone made it, Darius,” Kelln pointed out.

  Darius looked from Kelln to his soldiers. They shook their heads in silent acknowledgement of Kelln’s statement.

  “You tried, Kelln,” whispered Alastair.

  Kelln’s face grew hard. “I don't know why I did. She betrayed me!”

  Alastair winced and looked like he had been physically hit by the remark. “You must forgive her, Kelln.”

  “How? Why?”

  “Remember who her father is. He has manipulated a whole city. She doesn't understand what she did. She was a sweet girl,” Alastair said sadly, as if remembering past times.

  “I don't know. It’s one thing to turn someone in. But I thought she liked me, really liked me. She helped me escape and then turned me in again!” His temper flared.

  “Kelln, remember who her grandfather is also. Try to forgive her for my sake.”

  Kelln looked into the old man’s blind eyes and breathed out a deep puff of air. “I am sorry, Alastair.” He turned his face away in shame. “My pain is not half what yours must be. Your son’s betrayal and now your granddaughter gone.”

  “They are not lost yet.”

  “But...” started Kelln.

  “Alessandra is tough, Kelln. You know that. She has had to survive many things.”

  Darius limped over to Kelln. “We’ll find her. I will keep some of my men looking.”

  Kelln rounded on him, his anger flaring up once again. “And you, you could have saved her. “

  “What? We all tried, Kelln.”

  “No, you didn’t. You could have used your power.”

  Darius looked around to see if anyone was listening. He grabbed Kelln by the arm and pulled him away from prying ears. “Kelln, I don’t know what you think I am or what you think I can do. We were all on the edge of life and death back there. We all did what we could.”

  “I saw the rope fraying, Darius. I’m not stupid. Then all of a sudden the threads came back together. I don’t know what you have learned since I’ve been gone, but you alluded to the fact that you have grown in your power.” Kelln stood close to Darius and looked up, wet red hair plastered to his head.