by Mike Shelton
Richards’s eyes widened with shock. Fear, exasperation, and surprise all crossed his face in a matter of seconds. He turned away, shoulders slumped. “Does anyone actually know who they really are?” He muttered the words while turning toward Jain.
A few minutes later Jain took Richard back on his horse. Before leaving, he had given instructions to the others to let Christine out of the barn.
Christine sat on Lightning and watched the backs of Jain and the Councilor in the far distance. She thought of how Darius had been pushing away from his father’s rule before he left. He had felt forced and manipulated into doing his father’s will, and Christine now wondered if that had just happened to her.
Soon, my child, soon, came the familiar voice of Lightning, you will have all the answers.
Giving her horse a soft loving tap, she vowed to never block the horse out again. Lightning whinnied with delight, and they galloped off to her home.
Chapter 13
BELOR
Darius walked around Belor with Leandra and Mezar on either side of him. Trailing a dozen yards behind was a contingent of guards, half of them Elite soldiers and half belonging to the Preacher. He had talked the Preacher into letting him have some of his own guards around him. Taking a tour of the city had been Leandra’s idea, and Darius had readily agreed. He and the Preacher had been conferencing for the past week, and Darius was intrigued with the man on multiple levels. The man’s control of magic beckoned him strongly, and Darius had a sudden urge to learn more about his own hidden powers. The Preacher’s ability to stand up to the King and the rule of the Realm also interested him.
“The domes here in Belor are similar to those at my home in Gildan, though ours are filled with lights.” Mezar interrupted Darius’s thoughts.
“Lights?” Darius looked at Mezar.
“Some are candles, some magic, but many of our domes reflect different colors at night. It is beautiful.”
“Do you miss it?” asked Leandra. She had been more subdued and quiet recently and paying more attention to Mezar than Darius.
“Ahh.” Mezar looked wistful. “I do miss certain things. Though I am having quite the adventure here, don’t you think?” He winked at Leandra.
Darius frowned at the exchange. “You don’t act like a prisoner, Mezar. I don’t quite understand you.”
Mezar’s eyes almost seemed to close as he smiled. “You might not understand me yet, but we are not unlike each other.”
Darius shook his head. He really didn’t understand how Mezar, being a prisoner, could be so content with what was going on. He was obviously very intelligent and had been a young commander of a Gildan Battalion, but he was still hiding something. But Darius liked the man well enough. He had not tried to escape and had actually been friendly toward Darius.
“It’s different here than in Anikari,” Darius responded. “Angled roofs are normal there. The nobles seem to crave stone houses, while merchants have brick, and others out in the farmlands have smaller wooden homes.”
“And what do you like, Commander Darius?” Mezar asked.
The question gave pause to Darius. Most of his growing-up years were had in a large stone house close to the castle. He knew that when he was younger they lived farther out by the walls of the city in a smaller home. None of them were overly comfortable. He wasn’t really sure what he liked.
“I like wood. It is warm and inviting and can be painted different colors,” added Leandra.
Mezar smiled again. “I would like very much to see a home like that. Maybe I could visit your home someday.”
Leandra blushed at Mezar’s statement. Darius thought he should feel jealous, but for some reason he felt relief. He wondered though at Mezar’s boldness.
“Personally, I don’t think it is the materials that make a home, but the people in it,” Darius said in thoughtful contemplation.
Both Mezar and Leandra stopped and looked at Darius with surprised looks.
“What? Don’t you think I can have thoughts of comfort and home? I have not always been a commander.” Darius felt slightly perturbed at their assuming looks.
Suddenly they came up on the backside of the palace. Spring gardens were being tended by gardeners, and other servants were cleaning the sides of the great smooth stone walls. Daffodils and tulips bloomed, and the air held their fragrance. As they neared the palace once again Darius felt a tug inside of him, pulling him toward the Preacher. Concern must have shown on his face.
“Darius, what is wrong?” asked Leandra from the side of him.
“The Preacher.” Darius stopped and looked up toward the top of the palace. A huge dome sat atop of three smaller domes.
“Commander.” Mezar put his hand on Darius arm. “May I speak freely?”
Darius turned to him and nodded.
“This Preacher. His powers are not good. He has cowered and manipulated his people. What are you doing with him?”
The question surprised Darius. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He retorted.
Mezar stepped back. “I meant no affront to you, Commander.”
Darius knew he had reacted poorly. He realized that he had felt much more relaxed walking around the city, but Mezar was right. The people were quiet and subdued. The normal markets that should exist in a city this size were too contrived and orderly. The Preacher definitely had a hold on the people of Belor. Did the man have a hold on him also? “The Preacher wants to be my ally.”
“And what do you want?” Mezar asked.
That was a question Darius had been asking himself all day. When he was with the Preacher he felt connected to him and wanted to be around him. He accepted the Preacher’s plight as his own. But when he was away from him, the feeling faded. He was left to wonder what he really wanted.
The three of them entered a smaller door in the back of the building. Apprehension filled Darius at the thought of meeting with the Preacher again. His jaw clenched as he thought about how he was always being manipulated to do someone else’s bidding. His father, King Edward, and now the Preacher.
Darius fought the tug of power pulling him forward and chose to walk at his own pace. Soon they heard a commotion around a corner and stopped to see what it was. They stood behind a large granite column and witnessed the Preacher’s interaction with some men.
“What is the status of my army?” asked the Preacher.
A nervous-looking man in a dark red uniform highlighted with a yellow sash stepped forward. “Sire, as I have told you before, we do not have an army. We have a thousand men who have been told to fight. They…”
Whatever the man was going to say next was interrupted by a flash of power from the Preacher’s hands. A blue light surrounded the man’s neck, and choking sounds followed. In less than a minute he dropped to the ground.
The Preacher turned to the other three men. “Anyone else want to make excuses for why more men are not ready to fight?”
The three men looked at the ground silently. One of them, a thin, older-looking gentleman, looked up as if to say something, but apparently changed his mind.
“Good,” the Preacher continued. “You will have my army ready in two days. I will join with this Darius boy and his men to finalize my hold on Belor and then march to Anikari for formal recognition of my position.”
Behind the column, Darius stiffened at being referred to as a boy.
One of the men spoke to the Preacher. “Can we trust him, Sire? He is one of them.”
The Preacher bellowed a loud laugh. “Leave him to me. He cannot resist my power. He hardly even knows who he really is or what he can do.” The Preacher turned to look toward where Darius and his friends stood.
Darius didn’t think they were seen, but an abnormal feeling washed over him. He saw Mezar stiffen next to him and begin to back away, motioning for Darius and Leandra to join him. Darius reluctantly followed. He would have rather confronted the Preacher but knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do.
Back out
side, the three of them breathed the clean air. Staying quiet until they were away from the palace once again, the three strode at a pace to not attract attention.
They reached an empty street, and Darius stopped. “He called me a boy!”
Mezar smiled briefly and nodded his head. “I told you he is dangerous. You feel his power, don’t you?”
Darius nodded. “How did you know?”
“I have had training in these types of things,” Mezar said cryptically and shrugged.
Darius wondered again who this Gildanian really was. There were more layers and secrets in Mezar than in any man he had met.
“Darius, what are you going to do?” asked Leandra.
Darius didn’t know how to answer. He had powers that were obviously inferior to the Preacher. He wished he knew more about them. He wondered if there was anyone else who could help him learn.
The three continued walking around the city, back to the front of the palace. Darius noticed more intensely the fear in people’s eyes. After seeing the Preacher kill one of his men so carelessly he understood their feelings. A leader should look out for his men and protect them, not make them cower and be afraid. Thoughts of guilt ran through his mind.
“Mezar, am I a good leader?”
Mezar opened his slanted eyes wider in surprise. “Commander, you have always treated me well.”
“I still don’t understand why,” Darius mumbled.
“You’re a wonderful commander, Darius. You are the first commander of the King’s Elite Army,” Leandra added.
Darius looked annoyed. “I don’t need your pandering, Leandra. I want real answers.”
Leandra cowered back toward Mezar.
Mezar continued. “I think your men support you, but somewhat grudgingly. You are obviously a good tactician, great with the sword, and, may I add, have powers at your disposal that others don’t.”
Darius glanced at Leandra. He didn’t know if she understood what Mezar was saying or not. “Leandra, go and get us some bread and meat in the market.” He pointed up the street towards the vendors.
Leandra didn’t look happy but glanced at Mezar first for assurance. He nodded, and she left. Darius didn’t know what that look was all about. He would find out later. Right now he had to deal with Mezar alone.
He directed his answer to Mezar. “You must not talk about other powers I have.”
“Then you will never be a great commander,” Mezar said bluntly.
“How dare you!” Darius raised his voice.
“You asked for an answer, Commander. I gave it. You have everything most people want. You are young, strong, skilled, and powerful, but you hide who you are.”
Darius’s cheeks burned red, and his hands clenched. “You do not know who I am. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know what you could be if you focused and learned from the right teacher. I know you feel it, Darius. You just need to learn how to control the power and use it wisely.”
Darius opened his mouth to spit back a retort, but he took a deep breath instead and let some of the anger go. He knew Mezar was right, but it wasn’t that easy. He looked around, making sure they were still alone. He could see the bright skirts of Leandra still in the marketplace.
“What you say is true, Mezar, but leaders in the Realm do not look as kindly on wizards as they do in your kingdom. There is no one to teach me.” He hung his head a little lower. It was the first time he had admitted to anyone besides Kelln that he had powers. He felt guilty admitting it but also relieved.
“Ahh,” Mezar said. “Yes. I forgot the Realm’s aversion to those types of things. It is not so in Gildan.”
“There is no law about magic specifically as far as I know.” Darius tried to feel hopeful. “But I have heard my father’s aversion to it mentioned numerous times.”
“Maybe you can change your father’s mind, along with others’. Make them see it isn’t bad or evil, but just another tool to use—for good or bad, I suppose, but it is not evil in itself.”
Darius was going to ask Mezar what else he knew about wizarding powers, when Leandra came back to them with a basketful of bread, meat, and cheeses. They ate as they continued their tour around the city. Darius had a hard time concentrating on anything he saw. His mind raced with questions and possibilities, but not a lot of answers or solutions. He felt he was on the brink of making a decision that could change the entire course of his life and that of others around him. Could others accept him for who he was? Would his father or the King let him still lead the Elite Army if they knew he had magical abilities?
Darius grunted in frustration. Mezar looked over at him but didn’t say anything else.
The three found themselves by the northern city gate when a commotion caught their eyes. A dozen guards crowded around a man on horseback. Darius felt for the familiar hilt of his sword but realized it wasn’t there. The Preacher had convinced him to leave it in the castle. He ground his teeth in frustration once again and moved toward the group.
Some of the guards scowled while others parted for Darius. Looking up at the man on horseback, Darius saw that a large “A” covered the right breast of his red and purple uniform. A messenger from Anikari.
Noticing Darius’s uniform also, the messenger dropped down off his horse and bowed his head slightly. “Commander Darius San Williams?”
Darius nodded in the affirmative and stepped closer. Belorian guards still stood next to the messenger.
“I have two messages for you.”
“From whom?”
“One is from your mother, sir, and one is from the King.”
Darius paused for a moment and told the guards to let him approach. “Give me the letters,” he said to the messenger.
The messenger handed him the letters and bowed with appropriate deference. Darius was slightly annoyed that the King had approached him so soon after arriving in Belor. But the letter from his mother had him more worried. He motioned for one of the guards to escort the messenger to get some food with a warning to not harm the man.
Before opening the letters, Darius walked back to the palace grounds. Mezar and Leandra walked away together to give him some room. He moved off into a corner of the gardens and opened and read the one from the King first. He could tell it was written by his father’s hand.
“Why the scowl?” The Preacher spoke from in front of him.
Darius jumped. He had been so engrossed in the letter that he had let his guard down and hadn’t felt the Preacher approach. The man was all smiles and cordiality, yet Darius felt a dirty, evil underpinning as he approached.
“The King is commanding me to return to Anikari at once,” he said to the Preacher.
“Well, why don't we all go and meet him? My army will be ready to march in two days.”
“He says I must come without my army and as quickly as I can.” Darius tried to understand the tone of the letter. “It is a curious letter. I can tell it was written by my father’s hand, but it has the King’s seal at the bottom.” Darius tilted the letter so he Preacher could read it himself. He felt the Preacher’s warm breath, and his mind went back to what he had seen earlier that day. The Preacher killing one of his own men in cold blood. He shivered despite the warm spring morning, and suppressed a desire to run away from the man.
Darius excused himself and took a few steps away to open his mother’s letter. She had written him once while he was in training. It was a very informational letter of day-to-day happenings around Anikari. This letter was different. It was written in obvious haste. She expressed her love for him and pleaded with him to follow the King’s instructions. Darius was puzzled. His mother rarely became involved in the affairs of the kingdom, though any other woman in her position would have. She had always seemed content to stay at home and only attended state functions with his father when necessary. He felt a tugging in his chest he hadn’t felt in a while.
“I must go at once,” Darius stated to the Preacher. Leandra and Mezar
had moved in closer.
“But why?” asked the Preacher. “Why not wait and take the army with you? We will be ready soon. It will be a perfect surprise. You and I striding into Anikari together. They will give us what we want then.” The Preacher’s voice boomed louder, and others in the area turned toward them.
A day before Darius might have gone along with the Preacher. Even now he felt the man’s powerful pull on him. He grounded his thoughts with what he had seen of the city and the Preacher earlier that day. This joining together was not what he wanted. He had to make a decision on which path he wanted to be on.
Before he could answer, a guard rushed up to the Preacher. He bowed low and waited for the Preacher to acknowledge him.
“Sire, the prisoner has escaped. The boy from Anikari.”
The Preacher’s face turned scarlet. “How did this happen?”
The guard cowered back. “He must have had help. When we brought him his afternoon meal, he was no longer in his cell.”
Darius took interest in the conversation. He cringed inside as he remembered how he had treated Kelln. It was inexcusable, he knew, and he hadn’t had the courage yet to face him again. The fog on his mind had lifted partially— enough that he could see it was the Preacher’s influence that had caused such rage in him. He shook his head as if trying to dismiss how he had left his friend sprawled on the ground.
“Find whomever helped him escape, and bring them to me. They must still be in the city.” The Preacher’s mouth tightened and he looked around as if seeing through the entire city. For all Darius knew, he could.
The guard looked like he wanted to say something, but swallowed hard and closed his mouth.
The Preacher looked back to the guard. “You have more to say?”
“It is rumored that your daughter was the last one to see him.”
Rage flew from the Preacher’s eyes, and the air filled with power. In an open display of the magic he held, the Preacher with a loud roar sent a line of fire from his fingers toward the guard’s chest. “Don’t bring my daughter into this, you coward. Find him now! I will deal with her.”
