The Path of Decisions

by Mike Shelton

  Silence sat thick in the small room. Kelln took a few moments to consider the story. His hands sweated with the heat of the stove. What could he say? “The Preacher is your son?”

  The old man nodded his head. A heavy sadness filled the air.

  “And your eyes?” Kelln touched his own eyes absently and realized his own torture could have been worse. “It was the Preacher that did this to you. This is how he hurt you?”

  “Yes.” Alastair sat down and gathered his emotions.

  Kelln gazed down into the fire and stirred the coals around with a stick. “What stopped you from going and getting help? Why would you promise to stay silent?”

  “My granddaughter. She cared for me when he was in Mar. We became very close. He vowed if I told anyone about his growing powers and what he had done, he would destroy her. I couldn’t risk it. I found this cave a few weeks after I left Belor and have used it ever since, waiting to die. But God has spared me for some reason.”

  “But why would God do this to you?”

  “Oh, Kelln. God did not do this to me. Man did. God gave me life and a family, but men took it away. God gave Belor beauty, but men took it away.”

  “How do you stand it? Everything you have has been taken from you.” Kelln was bewildered. He had never met such a man like this before.

  “Remember, young friend,” Alastair continued. “Don't ever let others determine your worth. That is what brings pride. Always remember what you have inside is only determined by you. Evil men can change your circumstances and surroundings. They can belittle and hurt you. They can take your money, property, and loved ones, but they can never take away what God has given you inside. That is how I live. That is how I survive.” A glow surrounded the exiled man as he talked in a gruff voice.

  “The power,” Kelln said, remembering Darius’s abilities. “You are glowing.”

  Alastair’s laugh filled the cave. “So you say. I cannot see it. Isn’t that ironic?”

  Kelln told Alastair about Darius and his newfound abilities. Alastair listened in silence and seemed strengthened by the news. He explained to Kelln the responsibility of those born with the gift of power and that Darius would face many hard decisions as he learned to deal with it.

  “It has been a long day for both of us, my new friend. There are some extra blankets and skins in the corner behind the table. You are welcome to find a place to rest.” Alastair walked slowly toward his own bedding.

  Kelln sat dazed at what had just transpired. Life and its meaning were starting to change before his eyes. The truth seemed to radiate from this tired, gnarled old man— a truth he had never expected but needed to understand more about. The words Alastair had shared felt much more alive in him than the words the Preacher and Alessandra spoke. They made sense, and they felt good. Especially in contrast to his suffering, this new idea of personal hope lifted his soul closer to where his upbeat attitude used to be before he went to Belor.

  He had to reach Darius and share with him the things Alastair had taught him. He needed to help his friend learn about and accept the responsibilities of his emerging powers. That would be his purpose now.

  As Kelln sat and thought, the warmth of the fire and ordeal of the day overcame him, and he drifted off to sleep himself. It was a deep and dreamless slumber.

  A few hours later, a sweet aroma filled Kelln’s nostrils. Sausage and a hint of potatoes. He savored it a moment before opening his eyes. Alastair was pouring a warm drink from a pot on the stove.

  The sound of the storm had abated during the night, and all was quiet for a while with two relative strangers enjoying their meal together. After finishing, they talked for hours of Anikari and the Realm, of religion and God. Alastair seemed to be a river of fresh information that Kelln soaked in. He retired that next evening mentally and emotionally exhausted, and this time he did dream. He dreamed of faraway places he wasn't sure existed.

  He woke in the morning feeling fresh and alive again. The world was a brighter place. His scars from the Preacher— both mental and physical— had receded to the back of his mind.

  “You rested well?” asked Alastair, with a smile.

  “Oh yes. It was fantastic!” exclaimed Kelln. Then he paused. “I found God.”

  “Where did you find Him?” asked Alastair with a small smile across his face.

  “I know many people seem to search for God. Someone said I would find him in Belor. Others try to find him in the mountains or in the cities. But from what you said last night about the things people couldn't take from you, I would say that I found God in here.” Kelln pointed to his chest, “He was always here. I found him in my heart. I now have a purpose I believe in.”

  The old man smiled for a moment, his eyes buried in a mass of age-old wrinkles. He walked to where a small door made from branches and vines wedged into one of the cave walls and pushed it open. Sunlight streamed in, almost blinding Kelln. He blinked a few times, then shadowed his eyes with his hand and walked to the door. It exited onto the back of a small hill.

  Kelln found the view breathless. He stood amazed that the dark, foreboding clouds, piercing wind, and monstrous thunder did not leave any scars on the land. Instead, he saw deep blue skies, brilliant sunlight, and a rare light feathery blanket of pure-white spring snow. The world seemed new and refreshed. It seemed as if all evil and darkness had been washed away. Light green buds filled most of the trees and stood out in dark contrast to the late spring snow.

  Kelln walked out for a few minutes on his own, catching a rabbit with a bow that Alastair had in his cave. Alastair took the animal, dressed it and cooked it. It tasted good to fill Kelln’s stomach with a heavy meal. His strength seemed to multiply, and he felt inside, as well as outside, that nothing would control him again.

  Alastair didn't ask Kelln when he would go, so Kelln took a few weeks to fully rebuild his strength. Each day he went out of the cave, walking farther and farther. Small leaves were beginning to show on the early blooming aspens. One day Kelln returned from walking around the forested area with a clean-shaven face and half a dozen fish. His strength had grown, and though he still showed some outward signs of bruises, he felt strong and healthy once again.

  “Alastair, I must be going soon.”

  “I know, my friend. I can tell you are getting restless. Eat with me tonight, and then leave tomorrow. You must get out of the forest before another spring storm hits. It was a dry winter, but spring brings some awful thunderstorms. The river will swell its banks soon.”

  Later that day while eating, Alastair looked up with a jolt and moved towards the door.

  “What is it?” asked Kelln.

  “There is someone out there. We must put the fire out. They will notice the smoke.”

  Kelln helped Alastair cover the fire in a way so as to not let any new smoke rise up out of the cave. They peered out of the door. Off in the distance of the setting sun, Kelln followed the outline of five men, looking as if they were searching for something. They walked with a purpose, dressed in Belorian uniforms and carrying heavy swords at their sides. They approached closer.

  Kelln felt terror rise again at visions of being held in the dungeons, but his newfound faith gave him a reassuring calm. “I am going out to investigate,” he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” He grabbed the sword from Alastair’s shelf and wrapped his cloak around him.

  The old man nodded. Kelln slipped out to some trees and peered into the lowering sun, shielding his eyes. Out of the stillness of the evening he heard a scream off to his right. A girl! The men looked up also but didn't seem to care. With swift movements Kelln moved from tree to tree. The ground had dried from the storms but was still soft and easy to move on.

  He heard the scream again, this time yelling for help. The painful cry sounded familiar. Alessandra! How could it be? Kelln’s heart pounded, and his face and palms sweated with nervousness even in the cool evening air. The sun dropped behind the trees, readying itself for another night’s sleep. />
  Kelln thought he made out something moving behind a tree. A man running away, looking like a shadow in the failing sunlight. He heard the scream again. It was from the direction the man had just come from. Kelln forgot to take cover now and darted out across the sparse ground toward the sound. His soft shoes crushed decomposing leaves and fallen pine needles. He came to a small rise in the land and spotted someone a few feet below rubbing her leg. Her dark hair covered her face in front and flowed down over a dark brown coat in back. The person turned around and Kelln gasped.

  “Alessandra,” he whispered, not moving.

  With guilt she stared up at him with tears in her reddened eyes. She looked so lost and alone. So hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” was all she whispered.

  Kelln took a step forward and was shoved from behind. He rolled down the small hill and tried to regain his footing, slipping on the slick, mud-covered ground instead. In an instant three men grabbed him with rough hands. They shoved him into the dirt with no concern for his safety and took his bow, arrows, and knife away. Kelln struggled against them and kicked out at another. He might be small, but he had learned to defend himself a long time ago. He tried to wiggle out of their arms.

  One of the larger men brought his arm back and struck the side of Kelln’s head hard. Stars exploded around Kelln, and he reeled to the side. One of the other men grabbed his hands roughly, tied them together, and pushed him up against a tree.

  As a trickle of blood rolled down his face, he looked over at Alessandra, who sobbed into her hands. One of the men walked over to her and yanked her up off of the ground.

  “You did a fine job, Alessandra. Your father would be proud of you,” said the man.

  Kelln was confused, trying to figure out what happened. He didn’t think he had ever met Alessandra’s father. Had she turned him over to the Belorians again?

  “If it wasn't for her,” said one of the other men to Kelln, “we would have never found you, traitor.”

  “We knew you would come running to help her,” said another. “She has that effect on people.”

  Kelln couldn't believe what he heard. He looked at Alessandra and opened his mouth as if to say something but couldn't figure out what to say. She continued to look back at him with red and swollen eyes, then looked over to where three other men walked down the embankment, holding Alastair between them. He looked weak and helpless.

  “Why him?” Alessandra blurted out.

  Alastair turned towards her sound, “Alessandra,” he whispered, throat raw with emotion. “It’s been such a long time.”

  “You know her?” asked Kelln.

  “Grandfather! I am so sorry. I didn't know,” cried Alessandra. “I didn’t know.”

  “Grandfather?” Kelln repeated, paused, and looked stunned. He gazed from Alastair to Alessandra, realization dawning, “The... Preacher’s... daughter?”

  Chapter 5

  A REUNION

  The Black Forest became dark and dreary. Evergreen pines and towering firs kept the sky hidden most of the time. The undergrowth was thin this time of year. The leafed plants were just beginning to bud again with early spring rains. Darius could sense a deep presence in the trees, but nothing that affected him further than the far reaches of his mind.

  Having discovering his magical abilities less than a year earlier, he was still trying to determine the extent of what he could do. One thing for certain he had learned was that his power responded to him in times of great need and when he felt threatened or angry. The power was hard to control and even harder to know how to work with. He knew the men talked about it behind his back, and he had not formally or verbally accepted the fact that he was a wizard, but he had to admit deep down inside that it was looking that way.

  Magic was not looked on favorably in the Realm, especially in Anikari. Ever since the wizard rebellion centuries before, the Realm had been fairly successful in keeping magic outside of its borders. Darius knew the Empire of Gildan and the Kingdom of Arc had no such compunctions against magic, and it operated openly there.

  He pushed the senses of his mind outward around him now. The deep forest was rumored to be magical, and myths and stories were told of the old days when things happened in the Black Forest that were not explained. As he reached his mind out, he felt another presence—one he was sure was magic. He didn’t know what it was, and afraid to alert another person of his own presence, he pulled back mentally until the power sat inside him once again.

  Marching through the forest was hard. They had packed light, but still each night setting up camp and then dissolving it in the morning took more time that he would have liked. A strong storm had caught them a few weeks earlier, and the ensuing mud slowed the party dramatically.

  Darius was anxious to get to Belor and see what the troubles there were about. He had heard about the Preacher from his father before last summer’s training season in the Superstition Mountains. Belor was larger than Denir, but he couldn’t imagine having any problem with his forty men securing the town and taking the Preacher in.

  The men caught small game in the forest to eat and found a few small streams for fish to supplement the food they had brought with them from Denir. The nights were warming slightly, but the men still needed campfires for warmth.

  One night after many of the men had retired, Darius sat next to Mezar. He didn’t feel a need to keep Mezar tied up, and the man didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. Darius kept him by his side so when he returned to Anikari he would meet the King with his Gildanian prisoner in tow. Even so, something else seemed to keep Mezar close to Darius. It was something Darius hadn’t been able to explain to himself.

  Darius engaged his prisoner in conversation. “Have you ever seen the Everlasting Meadows, Mezar?”

  “Yes. Once as a small boy my grandfather took me to the Black Lake. We journeyed around the eastern edge until we stood on the edge of the meadows at the border of our two kingdoms. He told me to look out across the grasslands and remember that as the meadows are everlasting, so we as people are everlasting.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “I am not sure. But I think he believed we lived forever.”

  “He didn't acknowledge death?” asked Darius.

  “I don't think that was it. He didn’t suppose we lived again, as some of the Eastern Kingdoms believe. More so, that our souls continued life after our body was laid to rest.”

  “Is your grandfather a religious man?” Darius was intrigued with such thoughts. He moved around on a large log, trying to get more comfortable.

  The firelight made Mezar’s brown skin, dark hair, and slightly upturned eyes seem more mysterious. “I wouldn't call him overly religious, though he does have strong views. He... uh... has had to be very strong in his trade.”

  Switching subjects Mezar eyed the sword. “You believe your sword has power.”

  Darius brought his hand to the pommel of his sword. Thoughts of when he had found it in the basement of the academy library flashed through Darius’s mind. In sharp detail he remembered the vision he had seen of when his sword had been forged. Wizards chanting around the forge had infused the weapon with power.

  “I have seen the power in your sword, Commander.” Mezar gave a small grin, “In fact, I remember the point of it touching my back when you captured me.”

  Darius laughed. It was hard to think of the man as his prisoner. “Are you any good with the sword?” Darius asked Mezar.

  Mezar grinned. “Quite good. One of the best there is, I would dare say. “

  Darius relaxed again. “I still believe the bow to be the best weapon, but the sword is a close second.”

  “The bow!” Mezar exclaimed with a laugh. “It is too slow and inaccurate.”

  “But the sword cannot travel across distances,” said Darius with a smile.

  “You do realize the power in your sword is much more than a normal sword, or bow for that matter.”

  Darius nodded his agreement to Mez
ar’s assessment of his weapon. He could feel the power coursing through him. It seemed to augment his own growing powers.

  They talked late into the night of weapons, travels, and boyhood activities. Darius realized he was not much different than the Gildanian.

  Eventually Darius stood up and prepared to retire. He turned with one last question. “Why do you speak our language so well? Does everyone in the empire?”

  “No. Not everyone. I was specially trained.”

  “Why? Since you are an officer in the army?”

  “Yes. Something like that. My grandfather believes I should be educated well with all the workings of our neighboring kingdoms”

  “You speak much of your grandfather. What about your father?”

  Mezar frowned, the inner part of his brows almost touching. “He didn’t spend much time with me as a boy. His work took him away from home often. We don’t always see eye to eye on things.”

  Darius was surprised once again at their similarities. “Sounds like my father. He wants me to be a noble councilor like he is. To serve and bow to the King. I can’t do that. I can’t just sit around all day. All I have ever wanted was to help the Realm keep peace. The other councilors think if we are safe from the neighboring kingdoms all is fine, but I have seen so many injustices within our borders. The councilors sit in their meetings all day and do not see what is in front of them. What they are doing is destroying us from the inside.”

  Mezar raised his eyebrows, smiled, and stayed silent. As Darius walked to his tent, a guard came up to Mezar to escort him to his own. Darius liked the man, but that didn’t mean he trusted him.

  A few days later a substantial storm hit the forest, the temperatures dropped, and the little army was left with a light layer of snow. The group stayed holed up for a few days in some small caves they had found along a worn-out river bank until the ground dried up more. Once they started east again it was at a much slower pace. The forest became thicker the farther east they went. Leaves were budding on the trees, and small shoots of green reached out of the ground in sporadic patterns.