Paladin_Pawn

by Michael D. Young

  The connection broke, but not before he caught a single glimpse of what lay inside his enemy. While looking into the flame, he assumed that his nemesis’s mind would be hot, full of rage and revenge. Instead, he saw only the opposite—frozen and without feeling, something that had been in the dark so long that it no longer remembered the light.

  With that, he thought he glimpsed a face, though it passed too quickly for him to make it out. It looked like someone his age, the person’s dark eyes the only feature he could remember afterward.

  Rich flew back, nearly stumbling into the water. “What did they do to you?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. “Why are you so cold? Is this what your parents wanted you to grow up to be?”

  For a moment, the flames took on a more human shape before spreading out again. They lobbed a fireball, which Rich easily dodged. “The question is, boy, what will they do to me if I fail? I didn’t ask for this assignment—to be the only one who can break the line. But I never imagined it would be so easy.”

  The fire crackled and laughed, and with a final spout of flame, it pushed Rich into the frigid water.

  Rich flailed with his arms and caught the edge of the rock. His entire body stiffened at the shock of the cold water that seeped through his clothes and into his bones. His nemesis hovered nearby, filling almost his entire field of vision.

  “One last chance, Heinrich. Will you stand in my way?”

  Closing his eyes, Rich thought about all the stupid things he had done that day. It was a bit like his life flashing before his eyes, with all the good parts edited out. He hadn’t been as nice to Aaron as he could have been, and Angela... well, she had every right to be mad at him. His grandmother had reminded him that his powers would only stay strong as long as he was a good person. He hadn’t been, but he wanted to be. If given the chance, he would change, and do everything he could to make it right.

  Please, give me another chance. I won’t mess this one up.

  Rich felt a surge of warmth spreading out from his chess pendant, but he didn’t change his face to show his opponent how relieved he felt.

  “I know this sounds weird from where I am right now, but, yes, I’m going to stand in your way.” Rich paused and drew in a deep breath, which he then let out in a rush. He raised his voice as loud as he could, making his cheeks flush. “I’ll stand in your way until I can’t stand anymore!”

  The flames flared up in a column of white. “Wrong choice, Heinrich. Wrong choice!”

  A wave of fire crashed down on him, and Rich called upon his second power. Before the flames could hit him, a glowing shield enveloped him, and the flames slid off it like water on the windshield of a fast-moving car.

  Rich pulled himself up out of the creek, the heat from the flames bringing sensation back into his skin. As he stood, he had just enough time to renew the shield before a second wave of flame washed over him. He looked from side to side, trying to decide where he might be able to run. The first two powers he had earned did not provide him with any weapons—obviously not a problem his nemesis shared.

  Then again, his shield had an incredible effect on the fire. What if he ran up against his nemesis with his shield? It might cause enough damage to get it to leave him alone.

  As his mind wandered, his shield shattered, letting in another plume of flame. This one wrapped around him, filling him with so much pain that he couldn’t stand anymore. On the ground, he balled his hands into fists, and called up the shield again. It shone dimmer than before, and the flames glowed brighter than ever.

  Still on the ground, he straightened himself out, stretching his arms over his head in a line. With his shield still active, he rolled toward his opponent and slammed into the flames. At the moment of impact, he stopped abruptly, the flames fanning out to every side of him. His nemesis screamed, a sound that was one part human voice and the rest roaring fire.

  The flames snuffed out and his shield failed at the same instant, plunging everything into darkness.

  Chapter 12: An Ancient Struggle

  Rich woke up staring at a bright light in the ceiling that bent and blurred like the sun’s reflection on a lake. He felt completely drained and couldn’t hear or see anything clearly. Several dark shapes that Rich took to be faces hovered over him. Voices whispered around him, but Rich couldn’t make his weary brain process them. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

  He reached out a hand and tried again. “Water,” he managed to croak. A small plastic cup appeared in his hand, and someone helped him sit up.

  “Strange that he’d ask for water,” said a familiar voice. “You’d think he’d had enough for one day.”

  “No joke,” an unfamiliar voice agreed.

  Rich blinked furiously and slowly regained use of his vision. The faces around him came into focus. Aunt Laura stood there with a doctor, a nurse, and an officer in uniform. Rich finished the water and felt his throat return to normal. “What happened?”

  The police officer stepped forward. “We got a distress call from a young woman about an hour ago. She said you were hurt and she had gone to get help. We rushed over to the creek and found you passed out on the bank, with hypothermia setting in. You’re very lucky we found you when we did.”

  “M—Mallory? Is she here?”

  “Who’s Mallory?” Aunt Laura asked.

  “The girl I was with. She goes to my school.”

  Aunt Laura glanced at the police officer for confirmation. The officer shook his head. “The young woman didn’t give her name, and no one else has shown up at the hospital. It’s possible.”

  Laura leaned in closer. “Rich, dear, what happened? We were so worried about you. Thought you might have gone off after your mother!”

  Rich closed his eyes and tried to remember the night’s events. His brain felt like a sponge full of molasses. “I can’t remember. I went to the creek like I usually do, but with Mallory. There were, uh, marshmallows.”

  Laura patted him on the arm and helped him lie back down. “There, there, Rich. I’m sure it will come back to you eventually. We’re just glad you’re all right. Why don’t we let you rest, and the doctors can take another look to make sure you’re okay.”

  Rich nodded and said nothing. He found himself shaking, though he was well wrapped in blankets and a hospital gown. His nemesis had come for him and found him severely lacking. It had played with him like an amusing toy. What was to stop it from doing that again?

  He closed his eyes and surrendered to the tiredness gripping his body. His last thought was of Aaron. He pictured Aaron’s smiling face and unruly hair and wondered how different things might have been if he hadn’t driven him away.

  In his dreams, he found himself again in a misty field, hemmed in by darkness on all sides. The panic he had felt last time, however, was missing. He thought about the crazy day he had just experienced, and a numb, dark feeling of guilt settled over him.

  He’d been a big idiot lately, and he knew he couldn’t take any of it back. He held his head in his hands and muttered, “I’m sorry” over and over again to no one in particular.

  He rocked back and forth and only looked up when a familiar voice spoke from the darkness. “Heinrich, your apology is accepted.”

  The dark figure stood in front of him as before, but this time, his features were more distinct. Rich could see dark, deep-set eyes peering out from under his hood, and a dark gray beard and hair. Massive, ancient hands poked out from under his sleeves, and each finger was adorned with a golden ring set with a various gemstone.

  “Heinrich,” spoke the man. “You have indeed been a fool. But luckily for you, these mistakes were not fatal. There is still time to correct them.”

  R
ich gazed into the dark eyes and saw the wisdom of many, many lifetimes reflected there. They weren’t really kind eyes, but they weren’t hard eyes, either. He couldn’t look away.

  “Who are you?”

  The man placed a wrinkled hand on his chest. “I am Arlenen. I was sent to you at this critical time of your life to help you on your way.”

  Rich furrowed his brow. “Why did you tell me to let you in? Why couldn’t you talk to me before?”

  “In order for me to talk to someone, they must be humble and teachable. Yesterday, you had too much pride in your heart. Today, you have a much better perspective of your place in the scheme of things.”

  Rich winced and lowered his head. “I—I was powerless against my nemesis. It could have killed me today, but it didn’t. Why wouldn’t it do that if it had the chance?”

  Arlenen reached out, and a chair appeared behind Rich. “Sit, Heinrich. I wish to tell you something. An old tale, if I may call it that. Gaze into the fog and put that talented imagination to work. It shall help illustrate what I am talking about.”

  Arlenen moved his hand in a circle over and over again, stirring up the mist. It formed a sort of whirlpool between them.

  “Long ago, not long after the time of our first parents, a great gift was bestowed upon mankind. They were granted three stones—a sunstone, a moonstone, and a starstone. With them, they controlled the seasons, the tides, the day, and the night. At first, the stones were entrusted to a noble and fair leader who used them responsibly for the betterment of his people. Under his care, all mankind prospered, and nature flourished in a golden age.”

  Rich gazed into the swirling mist, and scenes unfolded of glittering cities, fields heavy with grain, and families smiling and dancing and singing. A dozen other happy scenes played out in front of him, and he smiled. It gave him a feeling of safety and contentment he had never felt before.

  “Why did it end?” Rich asked. “Who would want it to?”

  Arlenen’s eyes darkened. “The greedy, the foolish, the ambitious. The good ruler died and left two great families in his wake, both of whom claimed their right to the possession of the stones. The leaders of these families met together to discuss their claims. They could not be reconciled, but they wished to avoid bloodshed. They agreed to let the patriarchs of the two families engage in single combat for mastery of the stones.”

  Rich leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Who won?”

  “No one. The battle continues to this day.”

  Rich wrinkled his brow. “Wait—do you mean the two leaders are still fighting somewhere? How could that be? That must have been thousands of years ago!”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” Arlenen said. “The power of the stones grants an indefinitely long life to those near them. They fight in the presence of the stones, and thus cannot be killed until the fight is decided.”

  “Does this have something to do with the knights?” Rich asked. “Am I part of one of those families?”

  Arlenen nodded. “You are perceptive, young one. You are descended from the line of Palad, while those who oppose us are descended from the line of Nemes. The two patriarchs draw strength from their family lines. For every person in their family line who becomes a full paladin or nemesis, the strength of their family patriarch grows.”

  Rich gazed again into the swirling mist and saw a vast amphitheater lined with row upon row of spectators. It rose up into the sky but had no ceiling, letting sunlight filter in. The floor of the arena consisted of a mosaic of light and dark patterns, swirls of colors that converged on a raised central platform.

  On the platform fought two men, one of whom wore bright golden armor and had white hair that trailed out behind him like a lion’s mane. He carried a pair of gleaming swords that glowed from within. His smooth face looked ageless, without a single wrinkle or blemish.

  The other man looked nothing like his opponent. He was wiry, with lean muscles and a shock of wavy brown hair. His face held a permanent grin, as if he knew something his opponent didn’t. His eyes were bluer than any Rich had ever seen, and he fought so easily that Rich could barely keep up with his movements. He held a pair of intricate weapons that consisted of a central bar flanked by two long, curved blades that extended above and below it. The man lashed out with these and his feet, effortlessly keeping the other man at bay.

  Rich leaned back in his chair and sighed. “But the Palad line is broken. My father is missing... but you probably already knew that.”

  “Yes,” Arlenen said. “I do know it. And it is a grave problem for the paladin cause. For thousands of years, the fight between the two patriarchs has been more or less evenly matched. However, in recent years, with the break in the family line, the family of Nemes is finally gaining the upper hand. If the process is not reversed, their family will finally triumph. They will take the stones, and with them, reshape the world in their own image.”

  Rich shuddered. He couldn’t imagine that anyone would like having the world under Nemes leadership. All the strange things his nemesis had said during their last encounter were finally making more sense.

  “Not only that,” Arlenen continued, “but the conflict between the two patriarchs has a direct effect on the rest of the planet. Before this conflict began, the world was a relatively peaceful place, free of many of the unpleasant things that afflict it today. Earthquakes, hurricanes, volcanoes—even plagues and sickness—are all the result of this conflict. As the power of the patriarchs grows, so will the power and frequency of these calamities. In a very real way, it’s tearing the world apart. If the battle is not stopped one way or another, it will mean the end of everything.”

  Rich shot to his feet. “What? Can’t anyone stop them?”

  “No. They are so powerful that any third party would be destroyed immediately. The only hope lies in restoring the family line, and...” Arlenen paused and leaned closer. “That responsibility lies with you.”

  Rich felt as if he’d just been told he had to walk a tightrope over a pit of hungry alligators. He wanted to protest, but somehow, he knew that the old man spoke the truth.

  “What do I need to do?” he finally managed. “How could I ever hope to win against my nemesis? I can’t even use my powers right.”

  Arlenen narrowed his eyes and fixed his face in a stern expression. “You lost your power because of your foolishness. Paladins draw strength from being virtuous and kind. Your pride and dishonesty resulted in the loss of your power. You would do well to remember this before you act. It was your change of heart, and your vow to improve, that allowed your power to return for a moment.”

  Arlenen paused for a few seconds before he continued. “You must go now. Watch your actions and your thoughts, Heinrich. Much depends on what you choose to do.”

  Arlenen’s hulking form began to fade, and Rich cried out, “Arlenen, do you know what happened to my mother?”

  “Read your mail, Heinrich. Read it well.”

  “What? Is she going to send me a letter? What do you mean?” Rich wanted to shout from frustration, but the man was gone, vanished back into the mists. Rich felt himself falling, tumbling over and over.

  His eyes shot open, and he glimpsed a lone figure at the side of his bed. He smiled weakly as the familiar features became clear. “Aaron!” he cried. “You came back.”

  Aaron returned the smile. “Good to see you, Rich. I’m sorry I was gone so long. I promise, it wasn’t out of spite, though it might have seemed that way. It was just something I needed to do. You must see what it is like to do this alone.”

  “Yeah, I guess I deserved that. I’m sorry I was angry with you. I was pretty stupid.”

  Aaron cocked his head to one side and shrugged. “Apolo
gy accepted. I’m afraid I need to offer a few of my own. Not only for making you feel foolish, but also that I have to leave you again.”

  Rich felt nauseated. “What? Why? I learned my lesson, and it almost killed me.”

  Aaron’s face looked as if he shared Rich’s stomach pain. “I’m so sorry, Rich. I won’t tell you exactly—I don’t want to distract you. Just know that it’s something that only I can do.”

  “But you can’t go now. The nemesis will come and finish me off.” The thought made Rich feel so sick to his stomach that not even Aunt Laura’s cooking sounded good. How could Aaron just throw him into the deep end where sharks circled with open mouths, waiting for him to fall in?

  “Rich, I don’t want to argue again. I’ll be back as soon as I can—tomorrow night at the latest.”

  Rich wanted to protest, but realized it would be pointless. “Okay, but if I’m dead when you get back, it’ll be your fault.”

  “You’ll be safe. You have more power than you know.” Aaron reached out and put a hand on Rich’s shoulder and then silently turned and left the room. Rich pulled the sheets up around his body and stared blankly into the florescent lights on the ceiling. It was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 13: School Dazed

  Rich had barely closed his eyes when it seemed that someone was shaking him again. He awoke with a groan to see a nurse hovering over him with a grin and a syringe.

  “Good morning,” she said with an obnoxious amount of cheeriness. “Did you sleep well?”

  Rich knew he couldn’t possibly explain what kind of night he’d had and instead responded, “Fine. Let me guess—that shot’s for me? Figures.”