The Path Of Destiny

by Mike Shelton

  “I’m going to get a drink. See you in a few minutes,” Kelln said, walking away.

  Darius tried to put his focus on the tournament and push the thoughts of magic to the side. But it was hard. He couldn’t even explain how afraid he felt. He hadn’t told Christine about it either, which pained him more than anything. He hated keeping secrets from her, but he didn’t know how to bring something like this up. Hey Christine, nice day today, isn’t it? Did you know I might be a wizard? Or don’t bother lighting that fire in your stove; let me do that for you with my finger.

  “Hey Darius,” someone yelled.

  Darius turned around, saw Sean, and gave an outward moan. Sean San Ghant, nineteen years old, and the ambitious son of a minor noble, constantly drew attention to himself with his loud mouth. Unfortunately, he was also one of the finest archers in the Realm.

  “Is your girlfriend going to be here?” he said with his usual mocking and whining voice.

  “What?” said Darius, caught off guard by the question.

  “Come on, don't pretend, Darius,” he said as he put his arm around Darius. “I've seen you with your little farmer girl. But what would your father say? Oh so scandalous. So many secrets, my friend. What other mysteries do you hold inside?”

  “Cut it out, Sean.” Darius pushed away from him. There was no way Sean could know about his magic. “Don’t start this!”

  “Come on, Darius, I’m just teasing. You are so touchy lately.” Sean stood a few inches taller than Darius and rubbed his short-cropped blond hair with his hands. Darius thought it an annoying habit that just angered him more.

  Darius turned away and studied his bowstring to take his mind off of the older boy. Ever since they were young boys Sean had seemed to have it out for him. He had sucked up to the councilors and tried to get the King to notice him, and now he was distracting Darius from preparing for the tournament. Another ploy, he was sure, to help him win.

  “I guess if you can't get a city girl . . .” said Sean behind his back.

  Darius turned around with a glare, “Sean, why don't you just shut up. She's ten times the person you are, and much smarter.” Once the words left Darius’s mouth he realized how stupid and immature he sounded, but he couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment.

  Sean just laughed.

  The power surged through Darius, flaring his anger further.

  Sean turned to walk away and Darius flung his hand towards the ground where Sean stood. Dirt rose up over the grass, forcing Sean to trip and fall.

  Kelln, coming up behind Darius, choked on his drink, spraying drops of ale all over the front of him. He was trying not to laugh. Darius turned to him with a glare that told him to shut up.

  Sean stood up and turned towards Darius. He seemed confused and embarrassed.

  “Watch your step, Sean.” Darius smirked.

  “What's the matter here?” one of the coaches asked, walking up to them.

  “Oh it’s just Sean being himself,” Darius said.

  “I just asked him about his farmer girl,” Sean scowled while wiping the dirt off his knees.

  “What happened to you?” the man asked Sean.

  “Nothing.”

  “The contest starts in fifteen minutes. Both of you should be getting over to the tournament field. I don't want any more trouble.”

  “Yes sir,” mumbled Darius as he turned away. He didn't remember having a temper before he had found out about his magical power. He had to be more careful and think about the contest now; calm himself down. He let out a deep breath, then walked away. The power rose up in him too easily these days.

  “I thought you said . . .” Kelln started.

  “I lost my temper,” Darius mumbled.

  “It was funny though.”

  “Yes it was, wasn’t it? But I don’t like losing control.”

  Darius and Kelln ran over to the competition area. Darius squinted into the sun when he heard someone else call his name. He looked over and his face broke into a wide smile as he saw Christine. He walked over to them.

  “Next year I'll be here,” said Jain to Darius as he walked up. Christie and her sister, Emily, sat on the ground. They had found a spot in the shade overlooking the tournament field. “Then they'll see that the city people aren't always the best at everything.”

  Darius smiled at Christine’s younger brother. He had grown six inches the previous year and at barely fourteen stood eye to eye with Christine, who was almost three years older. His hair was darker than his siblings, taking more after their father. Always ready to jump in to defend himself, Jain had recently begun learning from Darius how to shoot the bow and arrow.

  “Yeah, if you live that long,” laughed Christine.

  “Look!” Christine’s younger sister, Emily, said. She was a mini version of her older sister, complete with blond hair, a slender build, and almond-shaped green eyes that sparkled in the sunlight with anticipation. At eleven years old, she was five years younger than Christine, but Emily was forever trying to be like her older sister. She pointed towards the entrance to the field. The rest of the crowd stood up with anticipation. Trumpets sounded, signaling the approaching procession. Darius said goodbye and hurried back into line with the rest of the competitors.

  The competitors lined up all together, shoulder to shoulder. Kelln stood next to Darius, with a big grin on his freckled face. Even though he had always been good with the sword, this was his first archery competition. He had been practicing with Darius and even though he wouldn’t win, his skills were better than average. The thrill of being there was apparent on his face, and he elbowed Darius in the ribs with excitement.

  Darius glanced over at him, offering up a smile. The air seemed to be filled with anticipation. This would be his last competition. He had won his grade bracket for three out of the last five years. He hoped he might win the King’s Cup and a medal in his final year before graduation from the academy. It would help him in his placement in defending the Realm.

  The trumpets sounded again in unison. A large archway had appeared overnight in the south end of the field, built by the king's carpenters. Fresh vines and flowers covered the arch. It was large enough for at least four riders riding side by side. First came nobles from the surrounding cities of Denir, Mar, Sur, Forest View, and Tean. They each wore their city colors; Denir in blue, Mar in yellow, accented by a multitude of other colors, Sur in gray, Forest View with green and black, and Tean with earthy brown. No one in the competition this year was from Belor. There were rumors of someone declaring himself a new leader there just a week before. A man known only as the Preacher.

  Next entered the nobles and the mayor from Anikari. They wore the royal purple and red of the capital city. They were always held in higher regard than the other Realm cities. The lower councilors came in next. They, along with a king's personal councilors, made up the king’s royal advisors. Each one today was being pulled by two large pure-white Cremelino horses in small single chariots. Darius’s father, Richard, along with his mother, Elizabeth, entered next. He tried to grab his father’s attention, but his father wasn’t looking around.

  After all the others were lined in place, King Edward DarSan Montere made his grand entrance. His chariot stood larger than the councilors’ and was pulled by four of the famous Cremelino horses. The King wore the royal crown on his head and held the royal staff, and his purple robe swirled around his red coat. All of the colors of the Realm streamed from the back of his chariot. The King entered last as an ancient sign of humility. Darius laughed inside at the irony of it. He also wondered why the King and nobles all wore such uncomfortable clothes. The heat would be unbearable in the heavy layered outfits.

  The crowd cheered. The Realm always loved their kings and queens. King Edward was no exception. However, some of the outlying cities were more subdued in their cheers. Tensions had been rising lately among some of the other cities in regards to taxation and fear of approach by some neighboring kingdoms. King Edward wa
s in his early forties and still held the sturdy frame of his athletic youth. A crown sat atop his brown hair. Almost ten years earlier, the King’s wife and only daughter had died during a spreading outbreak of a plague. For some reason not known to the general public the King had never remarried, and thus there was currently no heir to follow him.

  Darius glanced at his father. Always right next to the King, making himself available for his every wish. As soon as he saw him, Darius’s stomach knotted in anticipation. He remembered that they hadn't spoken much that week. He had wanted to discuss with his father the trouble with the farmlands, but hadn’t found a chance. His father just seemed too busy to care about him anymore

  The King seated himself and the crowd sat back down again. The competition was ready to begin. Darius took a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to become angry today. He had to control the anger that seemed to come with his new powers.

  “This is fantastic, isn't it?” smiled Kelln. “I can hardly wait for my turn.”

  As the younger group went, Kelln shifted from the right to left foot and back again in anticipation.

  “Well I go first, so all you have to do is aim for the big hole in the middle of the target that will be there after I go,” laughed Darius, glad his best friend was there. Without any other siblings, Darius considered Kelln almost family to him. He would do anything for his best friend.

  After the younger students went, Darius and Kelln’s age bracket began. Darius heard his name called and walked up to the line. Over the crowd he distinctly heard Christine's voice cheering him on. He smiled inside. He breathed in deeply, called up the calmness, and relaxed.

  As he lifted the bow up, nocked his arrow, and pulled the string back, he made everything else disappear from his mind. He focused on the small black dot in the middle of the target, as he had been taught to do so long ago. His father had given him his first bow when he was five years old. He’d always had the special ability to put everything from his mind. Almost as if he were pulling the target to him. Now he wondered if all along it had something to do with the strange power he now held.

  In fact, his father teaching him to shoot was one of the best memories of his childhood. Perhaps today his father would receive some satisfaction and inward reward if Darius did well. He desperately hoped so. Darius drew upon the power within him and the target came into focus more easily than ever before.

  Concentrate! Focus! He realized now that his ability with archery had always been augmented by his power, even before he had known he had it.

  He let the string and arrow leave his fingers. The arrow jumped out as a wildcat springing on his prey. He heard the crowd cheer before he was sure of the results himself. The arrow stuck dead center. The second one a little off to the side from the first. The third arrow held deep, dead center in the target, scraping against his first arrow.

  He had one more turn. The best three out of four arrows would count. If he shot another bullseye, his worst one would drop out and he would have a perfect score. Not a common occurrence.

  Darius pulled back on his bowstring, but as he started to let the arrow go he felt and heard a loud crack. He jumped, yelled, and grabbed his hand. The arrow shot into the ground about five feet in front of him.

  He heard a few laughs, but mostly condolences rose from the crowd and other competitors. Darius had broken his bow, and the string had struck hard into his hand, making an instant welt. An official came over to assess the situation. Darius sat down on a bench and hung his head low. He wondered how his bow could have broken.

  He sensed someone looking at him. From down the row of competitors he eyed Sean’s toothy, over-confident smile. Darius picked up his bow with his good hand and breathed in deeply. Images flashed across his mind. The break seemed unnatural to him. He made an educated guess on what had happened: Sean had sabotaged his bow. But there was no proof.

  Even though Darius’s last arrow would be the one not counted, he still was expected to win his age bracket. There were four more boys to go, Kelln being one of them. The problem, it seemed, was that Darius had no bow now for the finals. There was a long-standing rule that no bows could be lent to another competitor. A long time ago there had been problems with loaning good bows around to friends. Some boys complained of the ruling being unfair.

  Darius sat, gazing down at nothing in particular while the officials tried to continue. He tried not to think of Sean. He tried to keep his anger in check. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself here. He calmed himself. A few moments later a pair of shiny brown boots appeared in front of him. He brought his eyes up.

  “Here,” was all Kelln said. A sad smile lingered on his freckled face.

  Darius realized what Kelln was trying to do. “No, Kel. I can't take your bow. Don't you know the rules?”

  “I asked, and since I haven't gone yet, I can give you mine,” he said with a genuine smile.

  “But that means you can't go. I can't . . . I can't . . .” said Darius, pushing the bow back.

  “No, Darius. You have a chance to win. I want you to have it!” He thrust the bow into Darius’s hands.

  The two young men were unaware that the entire tournament had stopped to watch the interchange until they heard the crowd cheer. Darius was moved. He knew how excited Kelln had been and how hard he had worked for his first archery tournament. He pushed it away from himself, back into Kelln’s hands, but Kelln was adamant and wouldn’t take it back.

  “Thanks, Kelln. You're the best!” said Darius as he stood up and shook Kelln’s hand with his good hand. A lump formed in his throat and he wiped his eyes from something the wind had blown in.

  “Now you’d better win, after all of this commotion,” Kelln laughed as he motioned towards the crowd. Turning, he whispered, “Don’t you dare let Sean win.”

  “Oh don’t worry about him,” Darius said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Darius?”

  Darius laughed. “Don’t worry.”

  Darius stood, holding a cool wet cloth on his hurt hand as the competition resumed. He wasn't worried about using Kelln's bow. In fact, he had used the bow many times practicing together. He felt terrible about Kelln not being able to be in the competition after all of his practicing and promised himself that he would win for both of them.

  I won’t let him down.

  The announcement soon came naming Darius one of the finalists. Christine waved at him, and her brother and sister shouted with enthusiasm. He also heard the crowd applauding the finalist from the older age group. He missed the name, but watched Sean step out onto the field and take a bow.

  I'm just going to have to put him in his place.

  Sean had placed second in the competition the previous year. Even though Darius had won his age bracket, an older boy had won the entire competition that year. The prior year should have been Sean’s last, but because he was still under twenty he was allowed to either compete in this one or the nobles’ tournament. Darius knew Sean decided to hang back a year at this competition to feed his ego and try to win.

  Sean stepped up to the line and stretched his muscled arms, puffing his chest up as he did. The pompous frills of his lace shirt moved in the slight breeze. Many of the younger girls thought Sean was an idol of perfection, and Darius heard a chorus of sighs from the crowd. Most of the adults thought the young noble a little extreme, but they tolerated him for his charm.

  Sean shot his first arrow. It sailed through the air with only a slight quiver and barely missed the bullseye, but it was still an incredible shot. Darius thought he noticed disgust run across Sean's face, and he relaxed a little. Sean’s next two were flawless, even touching each other in the center of the bullseye. Darius started getting nervous again.

  Darius tried not to watch the fourth arrow, but couldn't help himself. He blew out a mouthful of air after Sean’s arrow hit the target. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath for so long. It was a good shot, but not perfect. Darius still had a chance to beat him, if he placed
three arrows in the exact center of the target.

  Sean trotted down to the target to retrieve his arrows as he soaked in the crowd’s applause. Darius went to the line to prepare for his shots. Sean stood on the side with a bored stance as if he had already won the tournament. He motioned for a young page to bring him some ale.

  His power pulsed inside him and anger started to overtake Darius, but he cooled down and found the void in his mind to concentrate on the target. He put everything else out of his mind, drew the target to him, and shot. The crowd erupted. The shot flew perfectly. Without breaking his concentration, he strung and shot the second arrow. Again, perfect, even touching the first one.

  Sean shifted from one leg to the other in nervous anticipation. Darius smiled to himself. He still had two more shots to beat Sean's arrows. All he needed was one more in the center. He proceeded in a slow and deliberate way just to keep the suspense a little while longer. He glanced at Christine in the field, his father next to the King, his mother in the front of the stands, and back at Kelln a few yards behind him. Kelln smiled and gave him a slight nod of his head. Darius found himself enjoying the moment.

  My father will be proud of me if I win today!

  His hand throbbed from the welt. Still he had to concentrate. It was not over yet. He pulled the string. It rubbed his hand the wrong way, and he let go before he pulled back all the way on the string. The arrow wobbled out at half speed and fell to the ground about half way to the target.

  “Ow,” Darius winced and held his hand in pain. The crowd held their breath.

  Sean walked out to pick up Darius’s arrow, which stuck into the medium-length green summer rye grass.