The Path of Decisions

by Mike Shelton

  Let go of your anger, the Cremelino chastened her softly. It will destroy you.

  Kicking the flanks of her horse, rather than sending the normal silent command, Christine rode out of the meadow. “My anger is all I have right now. Darius is gone. My father is gone. Will you leave me, too?” she asked the Cremelino.

  Never, my child. I am here for you. This is the way things are meant to be.

  Weaving in and out of leafless oaks and maples sprinkled with green pines, they flew over the late winter ground until they emerged onto the dirt road leading from the farm lands to the city. The road was ill maintained, and pot holes from a recent storm dotted the dirt. A new storm brooded on the horizon, sending a cool wind across Christine’s face.

  Up ahead before a bend in the road they spotted movement behind some trees. Christine slowed down, peering forward to catch the movement again. Lightning stomped the ground and whinnied, eyes fixed on the same spot.

  As the two neared the spot, suddenly three young men jumped out in front of her horse, forcing them to stop. The abrupt halt caught Christine by surprise and she was thrown off the horse and onto the wet dirt.

  “What do we have here?” said one of the young men, stepping out in front of the others. The three looked around the same age as Chistine. Their wool pants tucked into their high black boots and thick black cloaks marked them from inside the walls of Anikari. The apparent leader had a goatee, while the others did not appear old enough yet to grow one.

  Christine stood up and tried to ignore them, not even brushing herself off in her hurry to mount Lightning again. Her heart began to pound.

  “Nice horse you have here,” said the leader. “Looks way too rich for an outsider to own. Did you steal her?”

  “She was a gift.” Christine hoped only she heard her voice tremble. She grabbed a fistful of Lightning’s mane to pull herself up.

  The three young men laughed. Another one, shorter but stockier than the rest, moved next to the horse, shoved Christine away, and reached his hand out to the mare’s mane. “No one could afford to give you a gift like this.”

  With the touch of the man’s hand, Lightning snorted and stepped back a pace.

  The leader of the group moved to grab the horse. “We will take her back to her rightful owner.”

  With an angry neigh, Lightning reared up and kicked the young man hard in the chest. A bag he had been holding smashed to the ground, and its contents scattered across the road as he crumpled beside it. The other two backed up a couple of steps, eyes suddenly hard.

  Something caught Christine’s eye, and she reached down and picked up a small packet from the scattered pack. It held flint, steel, and tinder, wrapped around with a string. Sudden anger took the trembling from her limbs, and she turned to face the three men.

  “What’s this for?” she yelled at the leader who was scrambling backwards to get off of the ground.

  He reached toward her to take back his belongings. “None of your business. Now give it back to me.”

  All three of the young men moved closer. Lightning moved between them and Christine.

  “Stupid horse,” said the third man. He was tall and thin and reminded Christine of her friend Thomas. He tried to push the Cremelino away, but the horse pushed him back with her head.

  “Leave the horse alone and get the girl,” the leader said. “And get my stuff from the ground.”

  The three instigators moved closer to Christine again. Her heart pounded in her chest and ears. How was she going to fight three young men off? She still held the flint and steel. “Have you been starting the fires on our land?”

  “What if we did? What are you going to do about it?” The shorter one said, grabbing for Christine’s hand. He caught her wrist and held tight, yanking her forward and away from Lightning’s protection.

  “Let go of me! You have no right!” Christine yelled. The grip was strong, and her wrist throbbed with sudden pain.

  The man reached his other hand toward Christine’s hand that held their belongings. She put the pack behind her back. The taller one moved behind Christine and grabbed for it. She kicked back at him but couldn’t get far enough with the other man holding on to her wrist.

  With the shorter one holding her wrist, the other two moved in closer around her, the leader having grabbed a large stick to beat Lightning with. The taller one reached in and slapped Christine hard across the face, sending a sting of pain. The similarities to her friend Thomas ended with his tall physical build. The man’s temperament was cruel, quite opposite of her friend.

  “Her face looks as red as the fire did,” said the shorter one, still holding her wrist.

  “Shut up,” said the leader. “You talk too much.”

  Christine straightened up at the talk of the fire. Her anger from earlier resurfaced. “You started those fires? Why?”

  The leader stepped up in front of her face. “Because we heard about your pathetic petition. You need to stay out of our business and our city.”

  “We’ve done nothing to you.” Christine’s face reddened further, and her jaw clenched. She had never been so angry in her life. Her green eyes flashed hot. “We grow your food and raise your cattle. You would die without us!”

  “That’s your job, outsider.” The leader moved closer in front of her. She could smell his putrid breath. “You grow the food, and we eat it. You live in the farms, and we live in the city. You do what we say, and we live a happy life.”

  Christine tried to squirm out of the man’s hold. “You killed my father!” Her mind flashed with her father lying in their home with burns and scrapes, trying to breathe, giving his final sentiments to their family. Christine and Lightning had rescued him from the fire, but the smoke and burns were too much to overcome his already weakened body. In his dying words he revealed to his family his upbringing in the city and his suffering at the hands of his city-born ancestors. The same city these young men were from.

  The leader of the group stroked his goatee and faltered for a moment, but quickly recovered and reached for her other hand. The shorter man backed away now, giving control of the situation to the leader. Grabbing the flint and steel pack, he pulled Christine’s arm around her and held her tight. “Now what do we do with her, boys?”

  The gang of tormentors laughed.

  Christine, fall to the ground. The Cremelino’s command came swift and fast to her mind.

  Christine let her legs go limp. Her captor’s hand slipped partially away. In that moment Lightning struck, wheeling around the group out of reach of the sticks and rearing down hard on the back of the leader who still had a slight grasp on her hand.

  Bones snapped, and the man screamed out in pain. The other two moved to help him. Lightning reared again with her strong hooves pounding against the shorter man, leaving only the tallest of the three still standing. He moved around Lightning and grabbed Christine’s long hair. She shrieked and jumped up on her feet in one quick motion. Her head slammed up under the young man’s chin with a loud crack. He screamed and held his jaw.

  Christine reached down and picked up the flint and steel pack the men had dropped. She swung up onto Lightning and steadied herself. The horse barely waited for Christine to find a safe hold before speeding her away in a blur of unbelievable quickness. One last glance showed the three young men trying to get up. The leader of the cruel group could barely stand.

  Heart pounding with rage, Christine hardly felt the pain in her wrist. Adrenaline flowed freely through her terrified body. It felt good to fight back. It felt good to hurt those who had hurt her. There were no more tears, only a new, unyielding resolve to continue fighting.

  Chapter 3

  ESCAPE

  “Where are we going?” whispered Kelln, trying not to stumble in the darkness. It had been three weeks since the interrogators had last beaten him. Three long weeks since the Preacher had invaded his mind with his foul and evil magic and ripped memories from him. Memories that betrayed thoughts that his best f
riend Darius had the powers of a wizard. His body had been so weakened during the interrogation that his legs were just now strong enough to hold him up.

  “Just keep hold of my hand,” said Alessandra. She paused a moment and looked around, as if deciding which way to go. Her long auburn hair was died black again, the way it always was when she worked in secret.

  Kelln remembered the first time they met, back in Anikari at the beginning of last summer, almost seven months ago. She was slightly older than his nineteen years and wore many disguises as she had helped others come into the Preacher’s fold. It was hard to know what she really looked like.

  It had been seven long months in Belor, and now winter was on the cusp of ending. Once again Alessandra led him out of a city. Kelln had left Anikari with her soon after his graduation from the academy. His father, the city’s swordmaker, had defected to Belor to help the Preacher in his rebellion against King Edward. Kelln had wanted to find out for himself what was happening in Belor, so after consulting with Darius he had consented to following Alessandra here.

  Kelln squinted his eyes and tried to see Alessandra in the musty darkness, but no matter how hard he tried all he could distinguish was black. Pitch black. The kind he could smell and feel. He tried to keep from breathing too hard, as the smell reminded him of something rotten and left behind years ago. Off in the distance Kelln strained to listen to small trickles of water dripping on rock. The soft echoes grew louder as they walked in the dark caverns. He knew they were somewhere deep under the Belorian royal palace, deeper even than the dungeons he had been held and beaten in. It seemed like hours since Alessandra had offered him escape from the dungeon prison where he had been held unfairly for treason and murder.

  He didn’t know why she was helping him escape, though he hoped it had to do with feelings she might have for him. She supported the Preacher by helping the oppressed escape throughout the Realm and come to Belor to help the Preacher fight. The fight that in Kelln’s mind was ridiculous and had little basis in fact or reason. The Preacher taught that the people in Belor were being burdened by King Edward and the Realm, that they had their own right to rule themselves, and that the Preacher should be their ruler. Kelln saw it as just another way for the Preacher to get more power. He hadn’t seen any strong proof of anything to support the Preacher’s claims of any real type of oppression.

  Kelln felt rather than saw Alessandra slow down and turn in another direction. Something scattered off in front of him. Something actually lives down here? “I hope you know where you’re going.”

  Even in the dark, Kelln knew the penetrating look Alessandra gave to him with her almond-shaped brown eyes. He was meant to be quiet and do what she told him. That was the deal she offered him when she came down early this morning into his cell. His heartbeat seemed to echo throughout the never-ending, narrowing cavern. He bumped into the cool, rough walls more often now. He didn’t know if it was his weakening strength or the narrowing of the walls.

  Kelln still wasn't sure he should trust Alessandra. He wondered if it was a trap, but the alternative was to die in the dungeon cells below Belor. His trial was a week away, and he was sure it would be a mockery of any justice. It would be a time for the Preacher to show his followers that he would not tolerate weakness or worse yet, rebellion in his ranks. In Belor’s fight with the Realm, Kelln had disobeyed orders to kill a Realm soldier. The Preacher was using him as a means to keep others in control— a message and warning.

  Kelln stumbled, and Alessandra waited for him. His breathing was ragged, and with limbs still recovering from the dungeon he barely stayed upright.

  In all the months in prison, she had been the only one to see him. Well, the only one besides those who beat him. He still had a hard time sleeping at night. The horrors he went through would be a long time leaving. He had hoped so many times that his father or family would come see him, but they didn’t. He couldn’t understand how his father had been duped by the Preacher.

  They stopped again.

  Alessandra turned him yet again, through another hall. Off in the distance, Kelln thought he could make out a faint light. His heart seemed to lift out of the gloom toward a new sensation of hope. In the growing excitement he began to move more quickly, almost knocking Alessandra down.

  “Just a minute,” Alessandra said in a stern voice. “You have to go slowly.”

  “Why? I can see the opening.” Kelln tried to move quicker.

  Alessandra stopped and turned. She twisted Kelln's hand around. The outline of her tense face in the dim light made him stop. She had been entrusted with much under the Preacher’s regime. Smuggling people out of Anikari was one of them. Being of Belorian blood himself, and with his father being a swordmaker, he guessed their family had been a logical choice to recruit.

  “Why did you stop?” He tried to push past her slim but toned body.

  Kelln tried following her pointing finger toward the ground about three feet in front of where they stood. It took a few seconds for the light to let him realize what was there. What he saw made his face rigid and his hands tighten; a three foot wide hole in the rock pathway.

  “I didn't know.” His voice quieted down.

  “That’s why I told you to follow me,” she said with a smile he couldn't tell was wicked or congenial.

  One by one they jumped across the large hole in the rock pathway. The sound of rushing water hit against the thick walls deep below. Alessandra made the jump in one quick motion. Kelln however had to rest a moment to regain strength in his legs. With one false start, he jumped across the hole, falling to the ground on the other side. He maneuvered his pack on his back in order to stand back up. His weakened muscles were sore. He had never been tall or very strong, but had been agile and active enough to keep up with most of the stronger boys growing up.

  Sudden light poured into Kelln’s eyes as they emerged from the cave. He brought his hand up to shield the worst of it away while blinking a few times. His bright red hair reflected the western sun, and he soaked in the light and warmth he hadn’t felt in months. He looked over at Alessandra and smiled.

  “Where are we?”

  “West of the city. About three hundred yards outside the walls.”

  Kelln looked down at a small river moving a few feet from where they stood. Looking west, he viewed the Everlasting Meadows. Doing so brought back the memory of when he had first come to Belor with Alessandra. It seemed so long ago. Belor sat at the southeastern edge of the Realm, close to the Blue Sea and just north of the Gildan empire. It would take some time to get back to Anikari, but he needed to find Darius and talk to his friend’s father, the King’s councilor. They would know what to do. The Preacher needed to be stopped.

  “I have to get back,” said Alessandra.

  “No! Stay with me!” Kelln blurted out without thinking. “Don’t you understand what they are doing, Alessandra?”

  Alessandra looked to the ground. He could tell that at least part of her wanted to stay. She paused as if considering. “I can't, Kelln. Not now.”

  Kelln walked over to her and held her face in his hands. “Why not? I don't understand you. Why save me, but not save yourself? I can tell you have doubts about what is going on. If you stay you might die.”

  Tears gathered in the corners of Alessandra's eyes. She tried to brush them away. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep the wind from blowing her clothes around. “You just don't understand.”

  “What don't I understand? Tell me,” he pleaded. She was right, he didn’t understand. He had watched how the Preacher not only intimidated people with his size, but with his evil powers. He was charismatic to the people, but he didn’t care one bit about anyone other than himself.

  Alessandra looked across the meadows and took a few moments to compose herself. Kelln’s heart lifted. He hoped she would change her mind. She would be better off away from Belor.

  She turned around and walked back toward the hidden cave they had emerged from moments bef
ore. “I have to go. It will take me a while to get back. I don’t want them to be suspicious of me.”

  “How did you know the way out?” asked Kelln, knowing he wouldn't get an answer. She made him so angry sometimes. She was so beautiful, he couldn't stand it, yet she hid herself so much that Kelln didn't know who she really was.

  “You’d better hurry away from the city. They will be searching for you soon.” She brought a black cap out of a small pack she carried and tossed it to him. “And cover up that unruly red hair. You will be seen for miles if you don’t.”

  “Sure.” He smiled. “I don’t understand, but I do appreciate you helping me.”

  “I am not a monster.” Her voice was tight with emotion. “I do care about you. I couldn’t bear it if you were killed.”

  “Are you sure you won’t come with me?”

  Kelln thought he heard a whispered “yes” as Alessandra moved back behind two rocks toward the cave. He stood looking out across the meadows. A barely discernible spring green was starting to show through the winter brown. The wind blew across the blades of grass like the waves of an ocean bringing in a storm.

  With careful, painful steps he descended the rocks into the Everlasting Meadows. His short legs shook from the exertion of the escape. However, he felt alive again. The wind grew slightly warmer as he descended into the grassy plain, and his spirits lifted.

  He smiled to himself as he remembered how he and Darius had talked of wanting adventure. Well, this qualified as an adventure. It felt good to be free again. There were dangers, and ever since he had arrived in Belor his energy and free will seemed sapped from him. Now once again he was free and in control, and it felt fantastic.

  The escape had come upon him so suddenly, he hadn’t had time to think. He decided to head toward the Black Forest and then across the Black River. From there he would head north. He would not be able to hide long in the open meadows.