Just a short time later I was once again in front of my father’s desk. When I walked in he held up one finger towards me as he was reading over some papers, it reminded me of when I was a child. I hated him even then. I looked around the office, not much had changed since I was young. I even had some fond memories of this room but most of them had nothing to do with him and everything to do with being in there when I wasn't supposed to. When he began to speak he drew me rapidly back to the present. "You have done very well for yourself boy. I never expected you to make it this far. I am sure you have had your fun along the way but now I would like to talk business." I wanted to tell him that I would never do business with him or people like him. The words where there in my mind and my heart but they would not come out.
"I had hoped you would not advance this far. I knew no one would beat Rogar before the finals and I had taken measures to see that he made it that far. He was given an easy path. I also wanted to send him a message as well, I never thought that you would block that message before it reached his ears. Oh I wouldn't have done anything to prevent him from winning, in fact I want him to win. He will win boy. Just before you arrived I placed a bet in his favor. One hundred thousand gold, I stand to win a great deal more. I would like to make sure you do not do anything foolish, like try to win. Rogar will be happy, which keeps him out of my hair. I will be happy, the money I will make off the fight and other things I cannot talk about at this time. So I am telling you now, you will lose the fight boy. Let him beat on you a little if you would like but you will lose."
I was in shock. I just looked at him with this dumbfounded look on my face and asked him if he wanted me to throw the fight. "Yes, that is just what I want. I will make it worth your while by the way. You do this for me and perhaps we can do other business down the road. I have always wanted to set up a shop or two in Arcadia." Each and every word out of his mouth drew my ire. I could not believe what he was asking of me. Then it dawned on me. I could believe it, I knew what type of man he was but I never thought he would ask these things of me. It was all I could do to keep my temper. So all I could tell him was no. "Think this over boy. You know you don't stand a chance anyway."
"Oh I think I do have a chance" I told him. "You do as well otherwise you wouldn't be wasting your time with me now. I will not go along with this. You should have not bet against me father." I then turned to walk out all the while he kept telling me that I was making a mistake. That I would die at Rogars hands just like everyone else he had faced. I told him one last time that I would not go along with him. Just as I placed my hand on the door knob to leave his office I told him one last thing. I would be dead and in the ground before I allowed him to open up a shop in Arcadia. He only shook his head at me and said "very well boy."
I have only seen my father twice since that day. Once when I was visiting mother the last time I was in Eystlund. The last time was three months ago when my mother came to see her grandchild. I would not allow him in my home and I had Pare follow him everywhere, Pare kept track of every person he spoke with or even so much as glanced at. As far as I know, he still has not found a way to open up a shop in Arcadia. No matter how hard he has tried. He knows that I was the one who blocked his attempts these past few years. I will continue to do so until one of us are dead.
After leaving my father behind I walked the town for a while. It was a random chance that I ran into Hetaron on the street. I saw him coming out of a building. When I asked him what it was he was doing he said he needed a few items. "There are things I need for my craft that I cannot pick up on any street corner. What do you care for anyway?" I told him I didn't care and then told him about the talk I had with my father. "Do you plan on going along with him?" He asked me with a raised eyebrow. I stopped where I was in the street and looked at him and asked him what he thought. "Interesting, I did not think you would but I had to ask. I have faith in you Kromwell to do the right thing if nothing else I expect you to win." I asked him how he could be so sure. While I never doubted myself, Hetaron was never one to encourage me.
"I have looked to the future. You will not die tomorrow, while things are not clear I can still see you in the days to come. I know you Kromwell, you are stubborn and hard headed. If you are not dead, you will find a way to win." I asked him when he started seeing the future. How he could do it. He just explained it was something he learned from his master. He did not understand the messages at times and they were sometimes in conflict with each other. "Yet I know this, I see you many days, years ahead. A bright and shining light surrounds you. It stands in contrast to my darkness. I still don't know what it means. Only that we are together at the end of days. However they end."
I could only shake my head at the crazy wizard. We walked back to the inn together in silence. I often wondered why he was still with me. He did not need me as his powers had grown in by leaps and bounds since we first met. Perhaps it was some vision that he had. Telling him that he had to stay with me. Was he using me or were we using each other. I wish I had asked him more about the visions he had. Did he really know what was going to happen? If so, why not try to avoid it? Are we on a path set down by the gods, unable to change anything about our fate? These are not questions I can answer for myself or for anyone else. I have decided that I will deal with what happens in the moment. If I don't like it, I will just do what I always do. Pick up my shield and sword.
37. Shadows and Light
The wizard Hetaron sat at his table waiting. After taking a light meal with two of his companions he stayed behind while they went to retire for the night. He was expecting a visitor, someone who would only come at night. Not all business was done by the light of day. So he sat in silence with nothing but his wine and his staff. The only time he looked away from the door was to wave down the serving girl. He was in a good mood after all. He had bet a lot of gold on Darmot and he kept on winning. He even considered asking the serving girl to serve him in bed. Not that she would do it for free. "Everyone has a price." he said to himself. Some would do anything for coin, Hetaron would give up anything for power. Some would say he already has.
"Pardon me sir, but are you number sixty four?" The wizard looked to his right and saw the man who did not use a door and was not there just a moment before. He looked into his eyes and nodded his head yes. "Password?" he asked.
"Animus Calx." he told him. The man just nodded his head once and pulled out a rather large belt pouch. As he put it down on the table it made several, slightly muted clinks. The sound of coins made the wizard smile. He picked it up and knew it was all there. He then in turn handed it back over to the man.
"How would you like to use this?"
"Put it all on Kromwell, to win." The man looked the wizard in the eye and asked if he was sure. "Oh yes, you know who I am and I believe he will win. I will expect you here tomorrow night at the same time with my winnings."
"Only if you win my lord."
"Of course" he said. Hetaron had a plan to help him win, if the fool wanted his help or not. He couldn't know about it or he would resist. His honor would not stand up to it. While he was willing to use his normal gear like every other fighter in the tournament, he might not take too kindly to having spells cast on him. Even if that bloody cleric did it before every fight. It is one thing for a priest to stand at a pulpit and ask his god to bless his flock. It is another thing for him to lay his hands on a man and directly ask a god to grant a man his protection. No, the wizard shook his head. Darmot would not allow it but he had too much gold to lose. He would cast his spell on Darmot. "The fool nearly cost me ten thousand gold pieces against Mangosh." This was not a mistake he would risk again.
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The morning sun illuminated the stained glass window of the new temple. At the top was a silver dragon, under that was a blazing sun with a war hammer in the center. Near the bottom was a white robed man, a book in one hand a lamp in the other. The silver dragon was the symbol of the god in times gone by. The su
n and hammer were now the more popular vision that the church was trying to project. Yet the young man who was paying for most of the restoration of this temple insisted on the old being honored with the new. While he was a young cleric none doubted his faith or his direction.
Each morning you would find him here. In the temple of Solarth there were two things that could be counted on. The sun would rise and Zender would be there each morning. The only time he couldn't be found there was when he was called away to do the gods work. At his side this one morning was another man of the faith, one who was very special to Zender. Hans was the first soul he had saved. He gave him hope and set him on the path towards the light. Hans could only hope that one day he would live up to the example set forth by his mentor.
"Will you be in the arena today?" Hans asked his old friend.
"Yes, the king invited us to sit with him. Myself, Zackary and I assume Lomark will be there. Heroes of the realm and all that. Truth being told, someone made a threat against Darius. We will be there to make sure nothing happens."
"If that is the case, why attend at all?"
"Is he a king or a prisoner?" Hans could only nod his head in understanding. "I am sure it is nothing but I will be damned if it is going to happen while I am there. Not as long as I can still hold this." he said while holding up his hammer. Hundreds of years old, the weapon was said to be blessed. Modeled after the fabled Fist of Solarth, it was from a time when clerics took to the field of battle instead of waiting in the rear to heal the wounded. Zender had a passion for battle, some of his brothers said he had too much passion for it. "The good god uses us each in a different way. You stand here and preach of peace, I will be out there seeing that the god’s justice is done when that peace fails." For this there was no argument.
Hans was a firm believer in the methods of his mentor. As an old warrior, he saw firsthand the good that could be done. Yet as time went by, he was looking forward to the days when he could put aside the armor and only hold up the book as a sign of his faith. This was not that day but it was coming soon. This much he knew. Hans bid is mentor farewell and set off for the inn where his friends were staying. He could not afford to be late, Darmot was counting on him to be there. Not that he was in any danger of missing anything. Darmot would insist on waiting for him, no matter what Hetaron said. No, the only danger Hans faced was having to hear Hetaron complain over and over again. He tried to remember the teachings of the good god when in the presence of the dark wizard. He tolerated him for two reasons. While he had a dark soul, Hans had not witnessed him do anything evil. The other was because of his mentor. Zender's best friend was also a dark wizard. Zender would not give up on him until he gave in and put on a white robe. While Lomark was open to the clerics friendship, valued it even. Hetaron was not.
"He would fry me soon as my back was turned." A startled woman looked up from her basket of fruit at the cleric. "Sorry ma'am, I was thinking out loud. Solarth bless you." She gave Hans a smile and nodded her head. Hans could only wave and keep walking. "I have to stop doing that, it is becoming a habit." Hans did not realize until he was among the masses moving towards the arena that he had not stopped. In the years ahead when standing outside of Bishop's Hans office, everyone knew not to knock on the door when they could hear his voice. Most assumed that he was talking to Solarth when in truth, he was only talking to himself. Standing under the sun at noon that day it happened as it had happened every time before. The cleric wrapped in white stood on the arena floor. Arms held open waiting for his friend. A friend who was followed only by the specter of death.
38. Visions
The morning of the final fight against Rogar was no different than any other morning. I told myself that this was no different than any other fight. I would not think about what Pare had told me about him. How he had destroyed everyone he had fought to a man. None of that mattered to me. I would face him as I had faced everyone before. I just hoped that he wouldn't do to me what he had done to everyone else.
Jasmin asked me again to duck out of the fight. Not that her heart was in it but she had to try. I just tried to assure her that everything would be all right. I told her about what had happened with my father the night before while we were laying in bed. She knew that nothing she said would stop me from fighting. Hans had come by first thing in the morning for a quick chat. We made small talk over breakfast, neither of us talking about what was coming that day. After we ate I clapped him on the back and told him that I would see him in the arena. I then went off to find Hetaron and Pare. It wasn't like Pare to miss breakfast.
I found them in their room. Pare was sitting on the side of the bed and did not move when I opened the door. He looked like hell. I asked him what the problem was and he just pointed towards the wizard. "He has been talking crazy all night long. Laying there, talking in his sleep. Talking about dragons and obeying his master. At one point I thought he was going to start casting spells in his sleep. I had to stay awake just to see what he would do. I have not slept all night long." I was sure the little halfling was going to fall over and pass out while talking to me. I told him Jasmin was awake and that he could sleep in my room. I watched him shuffle out of the room and head down the hall. I closed the door behind him.
I had spent many nights alone with the dark mage. He had never in all the time I had known him spoke in his sleep. Perhaps it was a product of his powers growing, I did not know. I stood there at the end of his bed waiting and watching. He did not move or speak once. Perhaps Pare was the one having nightmares and he had seen it all in a dream. I do not know, my time was growing short and we had to get moving. I said his name out loud to try to wake him and he did not move or even shift. I then gave the bed a little kick saying his name again. I knew this would draw his ire but I did not care. Not wanting to waste any more time I walked to his side and started to shake him by his shoulder saying his name even louder than before.
As his body rolled over I saw his face. I thought for sure he was dead for one small moment. His eyes were open wide and had gone pure white. His lips were moving yet no sound issued forth. I stood back from that face, feeling something that I had not felt since fighting the undead in the crypt, where the red dragon had made her home. I wanted to scream out to him, try to jar him from whatever had a hold of him. I could not think of what else to do so I did the one thing that seemed natural to me. I smacked the wizard in the face as hard as I dared to. As this didn't seem to be working I lifted my hand up to try a second time. "Do not hit me again Kromwell if you want to live." The color had returned to his eyes and he was awake. I asked him what in the hell had happened to him but he just insisted that I would not understand. I asked him if he would still come with me to the arena, not knowing what condition had caused him to appear like that. "I would not miss it if my life depended on it." I did not find out until much later that he had bet on me once again.
I thought about pushing the issue, trying to find out just what had happened to him. I knew he wouldn't talk about it by the look on his face and decided to just drop it. He told me that he would be ready soon and to make myself ready. I returned to my room and put on my armor. I did not want to risk waiting until I arrived at the arena to put it all on. While nothing happened to me on the way to the arena, I wouldn't have put it past my father to send one of his goons after me. I gave my wife one last kiss and told her that she didn't have to come. I thought about insisting that she stay behind but after seeing the look in her eye I knew she would be there no matter what I had to say.
The trip from the inn to the arena is a blur. As if I walked out of the door to my room and walked out onto the arena floor. It is the clearest thing in my mind. Seeing the platform looming ahead of me, Hans standing near the steps waiting. I stood there for a moment and took it all in. I looked around the arena, seeing all the people waiting for the fight. At the far end of the arena was the royal box. King Darius sat there, talking to the people around him. Two men in robes, one white the other black. Zackar
y Red Beard who I had only met days before and a half dozen of the king’s personal guard. "Are you ready?" Hetaron asked me from behind. I nodded my head and started towards Hans. The roar from the stands was incredible yet I did all I could to block it out, even if part of me enjoyed it.
As had happened every time before Hans said a prayer for me but this time something different happened. I turned to Hetaron and gave him one last nod before heading to the stairs. "Wait!" he told me. I looked at him and asked what it was that he wanted. "Give me your hand." I did as he said thinking this was him wishing me luck. When he started softly speaking I felt his magic course through my body. I asked him what he had done and all he could say was that he was helping me. I shook my head and started to make my way up the steps. My sword in one hand with my shield in the other I took to the platform and waited for Rogar. I once again looked up towards the king thinking I would much rather be up there with him than where I was standing.
They called him Rogar the Terrible. He had a few nicknames but that is the one that fit him best in my mind. Closer to seven feet tall than six, he was a massive man. He held a massive claymore in his one hand, he wielded it like Pare used one of his daggers. Yet Pare could not cleave a man in two with a dagger no matter how hard he tired. Rogar had done that twice so far in the past week. As was custom we both saluted the king before the fight and then turned to face each other. It was then that he said the only words I have ever heard pass though his lips. "I am going to rip your heart out and eat it right here." I have no doubt that he meant every word he said.
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