The Path of Decisions

by Mike Shelton

  “Kelln, listen. It wasn’t me using power on the rope. Someone else here has some kind of power also. I sensed it. “

  “Don’t give me excuses.” Kelln picked up a stick and threw it toward the river. “Now you are just passing blame around. No one else here has…” Kelln stopped mid-sentence.

  “Has what?” Darius asked when Kelln stopped.

  “Alastair.” He whispered.

  “What?”

  “Alastair. Alastair has the power. I’ve seen him use it. He won’t deny it.”

  Darius tried to ask more questions, but Kelln was set about getting back to the camp and didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  Later that night Darius found himself sitting around the fire with Kelln, Alastair, Leandra, Mezar, and his captains. The other soldiers sat at another fire nearby but out of earshot. At Darius’s fire they discussed how to get into Belor. Kelln mentioned how Alessandra had helped him escape under the walls of the castle and the city. He didn’t know, though, if he could retrace his steps.

  “I can,” said Alastair.

  “What? You? But you can't see, old man,” said one of the captains under Darius.

  “I can see with my hands and my ears. I will remember.”

  “What are you talking about, Alastair?” Kelln asked.

  “Remember, I used to live in Belor. I used to live in the palace. I was one of the councilors to the rightful governor.”

  “Your son is this Preacher, right?” asked Darius. “He sounds like an interesting man. I look forward to meeting with him.”

  “He most likely will meet you first, or one of his guards will, unless we get into the city unseen,” said Kelln.

  “Where are these tunnels?” asked Darius.

  “They begin at the southeast corner of the city,” Kelln said. “They lead through a hill under the city wall and up into the castle dungeon where I was imprisoned, and where, high above in the more lavish suites of the palace, the Preacher lives.”

  “Kelln can be my eyes. He can guide me, and I will guide you with what I know,” said Alastair.

  “I don't know...” hesitated Darius.

  “Darius, the Preacher has an army there. You can't just walk up to the front door and knock and be invited in to the party,” said Kelln.

  “I have before,” Darius laughed, remembering back to Denir. “I captured Mezar and his men without too much work.”

  Mezar raised his eyebrows and smiled. His white teeth contrasting against his darker skin. The foreigner made no attempt to escape and didn’t join in many of the group conversations but seemed to always be listening. Darius still wondered what the man’s motive was. He was looking forward to bringing him, along with the Preacher, into Anikari and showing the King what he had accomplished on his own. For now, however, Mezar seemed content to stay by Darius’s side.

  “But maybe you are right, Kelln,” Darius continued after a short pause. “Being cautious will help us to maintain our surprise arrival.”

  The group lingered a while longer, planning and discussing the entrance into Belor. Darius sent two scouts ahead to look for any Belorians.

  Then he stood up and walked back to his tent. The difficult river crossing had been harder on his body than he admitted to the others. His knee and muscles ached. Bringing his arms back behind him, he stretched, longing for a normal bed once again. As he opened the flap to his tent, Alastair came up behind him.

  “Commander, could I have a minute of your time?”

  Darius turned around and raised his eyebrows at the question. It was still unnerving to look at a man who was blind but seemed to see things anyways.

  Alastair reached over and touched Darius’s arm. His power stirred within him. Who was this man? Had it been his power at the river? Darius didn’t think so.

  “You must be careful commander,” Alastair said in a loud whisper. “There are many forces at play here and not only those you can see with your eyes.”

  Darius moved his arm away from Alastair’s hand. The power receded again. “I have heard of this Preacher. I will be careful of him and his men, but I have an army at my disposal also.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You must be careful of what is inside you.” His wrinkled, bony finger landed hard against Darius’s chest. Darius felt a burning and backed away.

  “What are you? How did you do that?”

  “It is your power recognizing someone else with the power.”

  “Was it you at the river today who kept the rope from breaking?”

  “No. My power is weak and only good for a few things. I felt another with more power than mine.” Alastair stood close to Darius.

  “Another? Who?” Darius was excited at the increased help it might mean, but also afraid of someone with that kind of power in his party.

  “I don’t know, Commander,” admitted Alastair. “It is different from what I have felt before.”

  “But this Preacher of Belor, he has powers, too?” Darius asked.

  “Ah, yes. But his powers were only partially inherited; the rest were learned. And what he learned was bad— an evil side to the power. Do not underestimate him.”

  “I will be fine.” Darius smiled down at the old man and moved to enter his tent again.

  “You are a foolish young man. You might have power, but no common sense. You don’t understand what is at play here.”

  Darius whipped around and grabbed the old man’s tunic. “Right now, old man, you are in my care. I am a commander of the King’s Elite Army, with power to decide your fate as well as that of those around me. Be careful what you say.”

  A guard came up by Darius’s tent. “Is everything all right, sir?”

  Darius felt foolish holding the blind man’s tunic in his hands. He let go. “Yes. All is fine. I was just retiring to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  The guard walked away. Alastair turned to go also. Over his shoulder he asked one more question of Darius. “Are you a wizard of the heart, mind, or earth?”

  Darius froze but said nothing. He didn’t know what the old man was talking about. He was not ready to have this discussion right now. “I am not a wizard, just a commander with some minor powers that I a just beginning to learn how to use.”

  “From where did you inherit your power?”

  Darius frowned in dismissal. “I am not in the mood to discuss my personal life with you.”

  “Power is either learned or inherited,” Alastair continued, despite the warning in Darius’s voice to stop. “Since you don’t seem to understand yours yet, I assume yours is inherited and not learned.”

  “You go too far in pushing me, Alastair. For Kelln’s sake, I will keep you safe until we reach Belor. Then you are on your own. If you interfere in my business again I won’t be so tolerant.” With that, Darius entered his tent.

  Darius tried to lie down and sleep, but he couldn’t get the day’s events from his mind. Mostly, he was bothered by who else in his small group had power and how much power they might hold. Was there a traitor in their midst? But why would a traitor save his life? It didn’t make sense. And what right did the old man have to ask him personal questions about his abilities? He didn’t know what branch of magic he had. He hadn’t even known there were differing types of the power.

  And as for inheritance, he knew his father didn’t possess any sort of magic. But he had to admit, he did have powers of some type or another and those powers gave him an advantage. He needed to learn to use that advantage more. His first test would be with the Preacher.

  At last tiredness overcame his thoughts, and he slipped into a comfortable sleep.

  Chapter 8

  ENEMIES OR ALLIES?

  Every fifth man held a torch as the group walked with slow and deliberate steps through the century-old tunnels under Belor. It had been three days since the forging of the Black River. As they came to each fork in the tunnels, Kelln described the surroundings, and Alastair would turn one way or another, leading the party forward. He
was going on memory of years before. They lost all track of time in the dark labyrinth. For Darius the trek was taking much too long, and he became short-tempered and irritated. The tunnels made a perfect trap. The power in him wanted to jump out and strike someone, but he kept it in check.

  Soon Darius would face the infamous Preacher. He would find out where his powers came from and bring him to heel for his crimes against the Realm.

  Leandra echoed Darius’s growing fears. “Are you sure we aren't lost?” The darkness, distant echoing of water, and occasional scamper of something across the floor had them all jumpy.

  “We are close,” was all the old man said.

  A few moments later Alastair stopped and informed Darius they were about to enter the lower dungeon of the palace, and he knew of a room they could enter that was never used. They moved through a doorway leading into a hallway under the palace walls. Darius felt the presence of a power and shuddered at its strength. Darius ordered their Belorian prisoners into one of the cells. He closed and locked the door and told them to exchange clothes with some of his men.

  “There used to be six men. Now I only count five.” Darius said to his men. “Where is the other?”

  The Elite soldiers spread out and looked everywhere, but the missing man couldn’t be found.

  “Do you want us to backtrack and look for him?” asked one of Darius’s men.

  “No, that will take too long, and we could lose what element of surprise we have left.” Darius and four of his men put on the uniforms of the Belorian guards; then they went to find the Preacher. Alastair told Kelln the way, then remained below the palace with Mezar and the rest of Darius’s Elite soldiers.

  The small group of impostors climbed the numerous stone stairs bringing them out of the eerie dungeons and into the main palace grounds. The palace courtyard seemed to be clean and well kept. Darius noticed others dressed like them in the red Belorian uniforms. He touched Kelln’s arm. Kelln jumped and frowned. After asking directions, they continued toward the Preacher’s sitting rooms. It was early evening now, and they hoped the Preacher would be in his chambers.

  Guards stood stationed outside of the Preacher’s room. Dressed in a Belorian uniform, Darius asked to see the Preacher.

  “What is your purpose?” asked one of the guards.

  “We have captured the escaped prisoner.”

  Darius looked at Kelln without emotion. Kelln looked like he might reach out and try to kill him.

  “Give him to us, and we will bring him in.” One of the guards insisted.

  “He is dangerous. The Preacher ordered us to deliver him in person,” continued Darius.

  “Just a moment,” said the guard as he went inside the room.

  “This is your plan?” whispered Kelln in anger. “You had no right to drag me into this. I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Then why are you?” Darius’s mouth held tight, and his eyebrows furrowed.

  “To help you,” Kelln shot back.

  Darius was about to argue when the guard returned and motioned them in. Kelln was pushed in front of Darius and his soldiers, who all had their hands on the hilt of their swords.

  As the imposters entered the ornate and lush room, the Preacher stood looking out of a window. His back was toward the visitors. The man was dressed all in black, from his boots to a cape that almost seemed to float around him. The only color was a yellow band around his arm, and his short-cropped red hair, marking him Belorian by birth. The opulence of the room showed Darius the Preacher’s weakness. This man was motivated by greed and excess; he wanted others to see his power through his wealth.

  The room was warm, with a large fire in the corner stone fireplace. Gold artifacts and books covered one wall and a large tapestry the other. Oversized red velvet chairs with cushions stood in each corner. The lavish room was as much a royal suite as some of the rooms in the castle in Anikari. The guards left and the six of them seemed alone in the room with the Preacher.

  Darius smiled at the stroke of luck. This would be easier than capturing Mezar and his battalion.

  “Sir, we have returned with the prisoner.” Darius kept his voice even. He felt power crackling through the walls.

  “Very good,” said the Preacher without turning around. “He will be executed in two days”

  Kelln gulped and turned pale as the Preacher continued.

  “Right before you!” The Preacher spun around with fire in his eyes. “How dare you come in here. Darius, isn't it?”

  The sound of Darius’s sword being pulled from his sheath filled the air. The power surged in him, and the sword glowed. The rest of the group followed, and the hiss of swords against scabbards filled the air. Before Darius had taken two steps, men began to pour into the room from behind the tapestry and from a doorway in the opposite corner. The Elite men’s training was far superior to the Belorians’, Darius guessed, but could not match what seemed like dozens of men surrounding them at once in the large room. Their swords were drawn and their teeth clenched. They were ready to fight to the death, but he thought he could even the odds.

  Darius let himself get angry, then filled himself with power and pushed out a force of air toward the Preacher. It was easier every time. As suddenly as Darius had acted, the Preacher reacted and sent his own answer of fire toward Darius. Bright power hit Darius on the arm, and he fell onto a soft carpet. A horrible taint of magic spread through his body. It was all he could do to summon his own power and to feel clean and calm again. The stench of the Preacher’s magic filled his nostrils with a vile scent, and his mouth tasted unnatural.

  “How...?” Darius whispered. His eyes went wide.

  A portion of the group cleared as someone walked through and into the center of the room next to the Preacher.

  “Alessandra!” exclaimed Kelln.

  “My daughter warned me of your coming. She seemed to have a change of heart from last week.” The Preacher’s wicked smile moved from Alessandra to Kelln. The Preacher’s guards took away all of Darius’s men, leaving only Darius and Kelln in the room with him and Alessandra. Two guards remained standing next to either side of the door.

  Alessandra stood alone by the window. Tears stained her green riding shirt. She walked with a limp, and her arms were bandaged. Kelln’s face twisted in a grimace.

  The Preacher took two steps forward with incredible speed. It brought him face to face with Darius. “As for your little puny power, you might want to learn something about it before you attack a master wizard.”

  “A master?” Darius still stood dazed at the amount of power he had felt hit him. He realized at that moment this man called simply the Preacher was not simple at all.

  The Preacher’s grin went from ear to ear. “I could have killed you. I surmise you know that now. But that would not solve anything. I am sure like others, you have been told lies about me and about the power we both share. Now you can see for yourself how powerful I am. I am a master wizard in the ways of the power that you cannot even comprehend. I can feel great potential in you. I am very interested in getting to know you better, Darius.”

  Two guards stood by the door, and Kelln stood a few paces from Darius, glaring at Alessandra.

  “Bring him in,” ordered the Preacher in answer to a knock on the door. In walked Alastair. Armored guards held him on each side. The Preacher turned toward Kelln. “Do not think you were so special to her, Kelln. She wanted so much more to keep her grandfather alive.”

  “Is he so strong you need two guards to hold him?” asked Kelln.

  Alastair stood in silence. Kelln watched Alessandra looking at him. Tears dripped from the corner of her eyes.

  “Father.” The Preacher looked into Alastair’s face. “It has been a long time. I thought you had died by now.”

  “You are no son of mine.”

  Annoyance flashed across the Preacher’s face. “Take them all away! Except for Darius. I would like to visit with this commander of whom I have heard so much.”

>   In an instant the guards removed them from the Preacher's rooms.

  After all were gone, the Preacher turned to Darius. “Well, I have heard a lot about you, Darius, Commander of the King’s Elite Army.” He smiled and motioned Darius to sit down. The Preacher's chair sat slightly higher than his own. Maybe the man wasn’t so confident after all.

  “Where did you get that sword?” The Preacher asked.

  “I found it.” Darius was not ready to relay too much information too quickly. He had to work this situation to his advantage before the Preacher locked him away.

  Darius remembered the day he had first learned he had power inside him. He and Kelln had been stuck in the dark in a room under the old library. Willing himself to see through the fear of darkness, he had found a spark of flame forming in his hands. His life had never been the same since then. That is the day he had also found the sword lying in an old cupboard in the room. At first touch, he had been given a vision of how the sword had been forged, with magic.

  “Found it?” the Preacher walked over to where the rare sword sat against a wall and picked it up. “Do you know what the writing says?”

  “No.” Darius wondered why the sword held the Preacher’s attention so much.

  “It is the sword of a master. The inscription names its maker. A very powerful wizard.” The Preacher’s fingers trembled as he held the hilt. “I can feel its power.” The Preacher closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if soaking in the power of the sword.

  “How do you know about this?”

  “I know a great many things, Darius. I have been in Mar’s underground, where many secrets can be found, and I have learned things at the feet of the sorcerers and wizards far away across the Eastern Sea. They are respected in that continent. I have power you could only dream of. I would be a powerful ally for you.”

  Darius smiled and leaned his tired body back in the soft red chair. His mind raced with possibilities as he felt the Preacher’s power wash over him. Powerful feelings drew him closer to the man in front of him. Maybe this preacher wasn’t so bad. He felt a kinship with him already. When the Preacher looked at him he felt confident and was sure they could work things out. Maybe the Preacher could help Darius cleanse the Realm from apathy and complacency among its noble elite.