by Mike Shelton
Cray laughed out loud.
“You’re crazy, you know that? Crazy! You could have killed me.” Darius breathed heavily.
“Like I said, special gifts.” Cray’s voice grew soft and quiet.
“But how did you know?”
Cray walked over and picked up the rock. “As I told you, I knew someone once with the same abilities.”
“What happened to him?” Darius asked for the second time. Maybe there was hope for him. Maybe he could be accepted in Anikari with magic.
“His father told me personally he died at sea in a battle.”
Darius remained silent.
“At least that was what we were told.” Cray said in a soft whisper so quiet that Darius strained to hear him.
“Just so you know, I didn’t use it to beat you on the bridge,” Darius said defensively.
Cray raised his eyebrows, “Oh I know. I know. You beat me fair and square that day. Though I don’t know how much longer you can maintain the difference, Darius. You have to let it become you, a part of you. You can’t pretend it isn’t there most of the time. It will tear you apart.”
“You don’t understand how it is,” Darius snapped back. He broke a branch off a leafless birch tree and threw it end over end through the woods. “I’m a freak. I’m always aware when it will flare up, though I am getting better at controlling it. The worst part is, I don’t know what it can do. Like that rock you threw at me. I didn’t know how to stop it until I had to.”
“What choice do you have?”
“Why do you act as if it is fine? Most of the Realm fears magic, and for good reason. The wizards almost destroyed the Realm.”
Cray walked up closer to Darius. “It was not always that way. I remember my grandfather telling me about stories from his grandfather. Magic used to be a part of life in the Realm, Darius. Just like it is in other kingdoms around us. Someday it will be that way again.”
“That could be dangerous talk, Cray. I have heard my father’s aversion to magic, and his thoughts follow the King’s.
“And I take it you follow all the same ideas as your father?” Cray’s eyes twinkled in amusement.
“You know I don’t, Cray. This is crazy. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“My friend wondered the same thing.”
“And look where it got him,” Darius retorted back.
A look of pain slid across Cray’s face.
“Sorry,” Darius apologized. He felt bad for causing his trainer pain. Cray wasn’t a bad person.
Cray grew more serious. “It’s in you. It is a part of your reflexes, Darius. I would guess there is no limit to what you might be able to do, and that is a danger for all of us. You are a dangerous person, Darius. A very dangerous person indeed. But maybe one the Realm needs at this time and place.”
Chapter Sixteen
THE PREACHER
“Dad!” Kelln yelled. “Get away from him.”
His father didn't answer. Kelln went closer. His dad fought with a man half his age. What kind of madness is this? His dad was a master at making swords, but not at using them. The soldier lifted his sword to strike his father, who had fallen to the ground. Out of instinct, Kelln drew his bow and arrow and shot. He watched the soldier fall to the ground. His father rolled away, got up, and continued fighting another Realm soldier without even looking at Kelln.
Kelln stood dazed. He didn’t see the battle raging around him anymore. He had never killed another person before. The bile rose in his throat and he tried to breathe in deeply to keep from vomiting. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to stay conscious. He was numb and dizzy.
He had killed a Realm soldier! One from his own city of Anikari, most likely. He wondered if he knew his family. He stepped backwards a few steps, watching the continuing fight, but not really seeing what was going on around him. The screams faded away as his heart pounded louder. What am I doing here?
It had been four long months since arriving in Belor. Over the last month Kelln had seen the Preacher showing off his powers more often. First it was moving something heavy, and then catching a thief. Now he was rumored to be on the front lines with air and fire coming from his fingertips against the soldiers. Kelln feared him.
Kelln thought of his family, his father, and Alessandra as he began to move away from the fighting. He felt numb and couldn’t think well. He wondered where Alessandra was. She looked different now from when he had first met her. Her eyes were still riveting and her smile astonishing. However, after they had arrived in Belor, he had noticed her blind following of the Preacher. The things she said in defense of him didn’t make sense. It made her less attractive, but more than ever he wanted to convince her of the cruel man the Preacher really was.
Back in his present mind, he deliberated with himself again what he was doing in Belor. Fighting swirled all around him and he began to walk back towards the city. He needed to leave the madness and get help. Darius would help him. He had tried to send notes, but he never received a response back. They hadn’t let him leave in person, but he would have to find a way to sneak out. He couldn’t handle it any more. He and Darius could talk to Darius’s father and explain what was going on.
“Kill him!” A command came from a Belorian commander to jar Kelln from his scattered thoughts. He stopped and turned around. He watched as a young Realm soldier ran through the line of Belorian men and continued on towards where Kelln stood. Kelln heard the others yelling for him to kill him and not let him through.
“Please,” the soldier begged. “Help me.”
Time seemed to blur. Kelln tried to force his mind to concentrate. Somehow, he could not kill another man. Especially not even knowing for sure, or believing, what he was fighting for. He tried to step aside as the man pushed him down while running for the city. Kelln just watched as others ran past him to chase the young soldier. He would never get away, he thought.
Someone came up to Kelln and grabbed him. “Why didn't you kill him? He may reach the city now.”
Kelln just stood speechless.
“Oh, you are the sword maker’s son from Anikari. Maybe you are with them,” the man continued as others gathered around.
Soon the skirmish ended, with the Realm soldiers moving back down the road. They hadn’t overtaken the city, but they didn’t leave either. Kelln surmised that they were waiting for reinforcements to come.
His father walked up to him. “What happened, Kelln?”
“I killed a soldier to save you.” His voice felt numb.
“Yes, that was good work, son,” his father praised. “But why not the other one?”
Kelln didn't answer and some of the others started calling him a traitor. His father waited for an answer.
“I don't know,” Kelln said, looking up at the crowd. “I don't know about any of this. I don't know who is right.”
Men grabbed him and took him off to the Preacher. His father looked like he might step in to stop them, but then he turned and walked away. Kelln was still confused over the entire matter. His father had been so sure of himself an hour before, when they had received the message to go and bring swords to the front line. His father had pulled him along, trying to explain to him the importance of what they were doing. Kelln still didn’t see the purpose. It just didn’t look like a religious issue, or that the Belorians were being treated badly. This felt political, and full of power plays. The kind of activities that Darius used to talk about that his father would be involved in.
They dragged him to the Preacher. With hands tied behind his back like a common criminal, Kelln faced the large man. He had never met anyone in his entire life who scared him as much as this man. He had watched and observed the Preacher over the last few months and found no redeeming qualities. He had even tried to get letters to Anikari, but no help came, so he was sure they were intercepted and never delivered.
“You are the sword maker’s son, correct?”
“Yes,” was all Kelln could say. He knew
that the Preacher knew who he was.
“From Anikari?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a spy?” The Preacher leaned down to look Kelln straight in the eyes.
Kelln felt some kind of hypnotic power forcing him to answer. Luckily there was nothing to hide from the man. “No. I am not a spy.”
“We have been looking for a spy among us who seems to want to tell those in Anikari our plans. It would be a most unpleasant thing to find one of my loyal subjects not so loyal. War is dangerous, and someone could get hurt very easily.”
Kelln felt blood drain from his face and wondered if today was going to be his last.
The Preacher took a few steps away from Kelln and turned his back. Others in the room looked on at the proceedings with a mix of wonder and fear in their eyes. Kelln wondered how many of them really believed in this dangerous usurper of power, and how many were kept back by fear.
Suddenly the Preacher turned around, and with a loud voice bellowed, “Why did you not kill that soldier when you were commanded?” The Preacher seemed to grow taller. His face reddened and the effects of power seemed to ripple around his body. “Answer carefully, because your answer could determine your earthly fate.”
Kelln wondered what he could say that would save him at this point. The power of the Preacher bore into him, forcing the words from his throat. He could not lie. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t believe in your cause. I never have.”
The admission left gasps around the palace room. They couldn’t believe that someone would admit as much to their leader.
Kelln glanced around at the others, a sorry lot of followers, he thought. If you couldn’t think for yourself, what good were you? The crowd seemed to move back to the edges of the room, the smooth, plastered walls hitting their backs. Gold lamps and crystal vases sat above them on shelves. Kelln shifted his feet on the large, ornate rug in the middle of the room.
The Preacher sat down on his throne. Power sizzled in the air. He pointed a long finger at Kelln and flicked his wrist to the side.
Kelln began to feel lightheaded. His heart beat faster. He was hardly able to hold his head up, it was so heavy. He fought it, but to no success. He couldn’t think clearly. He remembered the Preacher telling him something else, but he didn’t know how he had answered. Everything seemed to be closing in around him. His vision went dark and he fainted.
The next thing Kelln remembered was looking up from the cold stone ground in a strange room. The light from the one small window shone through the bars and gave Kelln enough light to distinguish he was lying on the floor of the dungeon. He sat on the ground a few moments longer, letting his head clear. He heard footsteps coming down a hall, and Alessandra appeared with a few pieces of meat and bread.
“I'm sure glad you’re here,” smiled Kelln with as much excitement as he could muster up. “What happened?”
“Here is some food for you. You've been out quite a few hours.”
“Where am I?” Kelln tried to rise to his feet, but he sat back down when the ache returned to his head. He remembered feeling strange when the Preacher had flicked his hands towards him. He had done something to Kelln. He had used the power on him. It made Kelln’s skin crawl.
“You are in prison for being a traitor.” Alessandra’s eyes flashed in anger.
“But I . . .”
“Until you have a trial, you will stay here,” she interrupted.
Alessandra turned to walk away and stopped. Kelln looked up at her as if hoping for some type of compassion. “The man you let get away killed two people before they stopped him. You should have stopped him when you had a chance.” She turned around without waiting for Kelln’s answer and walked back down the hall.
Kelln’s stomach knotted up and he felt nauseous. He had let the soldier kill two others. It was my fault. I could have stopped him. Would it have been better to kill the man and let his own conscience suffer that he had killed someone else? The soldier had just been doing what he was told and was trying to uphold the law in defense against Belor. The questions of ethics whirled around in his foggy mind. He could only control his actions, not others.
Kelln scooted on his hands and knees to a far corner of the cold, damp cell, sat up, and wrapped his arms around his legs, curling himself into a small ball. The room seemed larger than he had first thought. He was scared and alone in a strange city. He thought of his friend Darius. And how he would react in a situation like this. Kelln tried to find hope in his thoughts but for once he couldn’t.
Kelln tried to remember the confident self he had once been, but he wasn’t able to find the carefree, laughter-filled young man anymore. Belor had taken his life away from him. The city had sucked him dry of all sense of adventure and rational thinking.
Am I going to die? Why didn't my father help me?
All he pictured in his mind was himself, now a timid, fearful young man, shaking with fear of what would happen to him now.
He had not found God in Belor.
Chapter Seventeen
ENEMIES OR FRIENDS?
Darius continued training with Cray over the next few weeks, but no other mention of his power entered into their conversations. However, Darius took time each day on his own to try and do new things and control the power within himself. More often than not he was frustrated with the results.
After a particularly grueling and frustrating day Darius was walking through the camp to go to his cabin. A few snowflakes lay on the ground, but the skies were clearing to a clear, cold blue.
Without him noticing, Leandra snuck up next to him.
“Have you been hiding from me?” she asked.
“I have been . . . busy.” Darius looked down at the ground. He couldn't figure out how he was so tough and in charge around the other men and held so much power within himself, but when Leandra came along he seemed to lose all intelligent thought. She seemed to enjoy making him squirm and get embarrassed. So had Christine.
“Let's take a walk.” Leandra grabbed his hand and they walked towards the lake. She wore a warm, multicolored cloak wrapped around herself. There were thicker patches of snow in the shadier parts, but the ground was frozen and hard, allowing them to easily walk around.
Darius glanced around for Cray, whom he thought would be watching him from behind a wall or tree. He didn't see anyone, so he consented to the walk.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, with only the breeze rustling the pine needles, interrupted only by the calls of a few nearby birds out scavenging in the winter air.
“Why are you so quiet around me? Do I scare you?” asked Leandra in a straightforward manner.
“No . . . I don't know. Maybe I’m a little nervous.”
“But why?”
Darius turned and looked back at her. “Girls in Anikari are not so direct.”
Leandra stifled a giggle. “Well, girls from Mar are.”
Darius had heard rumors of that. He blushed despite the cold.
They approached the small lake and stood together at its uneven edge, with only the sounds of the rippling water and an occasional rustle of wind to break the silence.
It doesn’t compare to our lake next to the field. The thought came unbidden to Darius’s mind. He pushed it down. Thoughts of Christine were still painful, and he knew that he may never get back to her, so he continued to deny thoughts about her.
Leandra pointed to something in the water, motioning for Darius to have a closer look. As he squatted down to gaze more closely, a handful of cold mountain water splashed him in the face. He yelled and fell backwards, breaking the fall with his hands. Leandra stood laughing. He pushed the now-wet brown hair from his eyes.
“Why did you do that?” Anger flared in him as he wiped the water with his shirt.
“You’re too serious. You need to have more fun,” played Leandra. “Don’t you ever have fun?”
Before Leandra finished the sentence, a handful of water splattered across her face. Darius step
ped back a few steps and enjoyed a good laugh. She came after him playfully and tried to push him down, but Darius squeezed away.
“Come back here,” she yelled after him.
“Sorry, I don’t need to go swimming today. It’s a little too cold,” Darius laughed. He felt like a young kid again. It was good to let go, if only for a few minutes. The laughter washed away the stress. He finally let Leandra catch up to him, once the water had drained out of her hands. She was breathing hard, the flush on her face highlighting her high cheekbones. Her short, dark hair held a few drops of water. The look was alluring.
“That was . . . fun. I knew . . . that . . . I could get . . . you to smile,” she said between breaths. “Better not let your men see you smile. They all think you’re just a mean and hard commander.”
“Well, maybe I am,” mocked Darius, putting his hands on his hips.
Leandra reached over to push a lock of wet hair off of Darius’s forehead and took a step forward. She stood dreadfully close to him. Her warm breath fleeted across his face, heating up the air around him.
“Darius . . .”
“Shh.” Darius quieted her as he turned around in silent movements. Leandra tried to speak again, but Darius put his finger to his mouth in an urgent request to keep quiet. He had heard someone or something behind them in the nearby shrubs. He walked closer, with Leandra a few steps behind, holding onto the back of his shirt. The birds and the water seemed to still also, waiting to see what would happen.
“Are you playing games?” Leandra whispered.
“No, I heard something.”
As he neared the shrubs, out ran a wild rabbit almost running into Darius and Leandra. Darius breathed a sigh of relief, and felt a little foolish. Leandra let out a small laugh, and they turned to walk away.
Without any additional warning he heard Leandra scream. Two arms tried to pull her into the bush where the rabbit had run from. Instinct settled in. He jumped to intercept the arms that he now saw were connected to a large, muscular body with strange painting all over the face. Darius had never seen anything like it. The colorful designs confused his senses. He froze for a moment physically, yet his mind was already steps ahead in what he must do.
