by Mike Shelton
They were careful in their beatings, spreading the pain around to different parts of the body each time. His mind receded as deep as it could. Through the fog of delirium he noticed that the beatings had stopped and that someone had asked him a question.
“Who were you sending messages to in Anikari?” came a softer, yet deeper voice.
Deep in his mind he recognized the voice, and fear spread throughout his body and mind. The Preacher. He hadn’t seen Belor’s proclaimed leader for a while.
The Preacher stepped up and touched his hands to Kelln’s head. Evil tendrils seemed to scour though his skull. Kelln shrieked at the invasion. The Preacher was searching for something. Kelln tried to think of other things, tried to stay firm, but it was becoming too hard. Finally, with a push, the pain became too much and his head flopped forward, unconscious.
In his unconscious state he heard voices in his mind. Images flashed through. Memories. They seemed to go backwards in time. First standing paralyzed in front of the Realm soldier he had been told to shoot, then seeing the Preacher speak to the growing crowds. He watched in his mind as he and Alessandra escaped Anikari and came to Belor. Seeing her face again, even only in his mind, made him feel longing and pain at the same time. He couldn’t understand her. How could she do the bidding of this evil influence?
Suddenly his mind moved more rapidly back to Anikari and to Darius. Visiting White Island and seeing the Cremelinos seemed to bring more intense pain, and loud voices just outside his conscious reach. Someone became angry at his memory.
The next few minutes saw him with Darius holding the sword, and power crackling down the side of it. That brought a feeling of surprise to whomever was forcing the memories. After going back a few more years, his mind finally collapsed and all was dark once again.
A boot kicked him in the side and he winced inside. It held nothing compared to the whippings. A cool salve and bandages had already been applied. He tried to curl up and go back to sleep but a voice commanded otherwise.
“Who is Darius?” boomed the Preacher’s voice, “and how does he have such power?”
Kelln opened his eyes and looked up. The Preacher brought his hand forward and helped Kelln sit up. “Bring the boy some water,” he commanded one of his men.
A cup of cool water met Kelln’s lips, and he drank greedily. He didn’t want to look at the Preacher, but he couldn’t help it. “What did you do?” he croaked.
“I sifted through your memories. It’s easier to do when you are unconscious, and if you have been trained properly by the Eastern Lords.” The Preacher relished his command of his powers.
Kelln tried to snarl and spit out venomous words at the Preacher, but he just couldn’t do it anymore.
“Who is Darius, where did he get his power from, and where is he now?” the Preacher asked again.
Kelln couldn’t hold back much longer. “He is my friend. Last I knew he was still in Anikari.”
“Does he know he’s a wizard?” The Preacher loomed in closer to Kelln, his large face intimidating him.
Somewhere inside, a lost laugh emerged from Kelln. It hurt his stomach, but he found it amusing that the Preacher was asking if Darius was a wizard.
“You find something entertaining?” The Preacher raised his voice.
“You asked if Darius knew he was a wizard. I kept asking him the same thing, but all he did was vehemently deny it over and over again. My friend has been very stubborn in accepting his power.” Kelln remembered the many discussions they had on the subject. Due to fear of his father and the reaction of the rest of Anikari, Darius wouldn’t accept the fact he was a wizard. He kept insisting it was just some minor magical abilities he would be able to continue to hide.
“How can he deny such things?” asked the Preacher.
Kelln only shrugged.
“Maybe he could join me and we could rule the entire Realm together with power and might.” The Preacher’s eyes widened with an excited fervor.
Kelln knew his best friend would never agree to that. The Preacher was evil. Darius would see at once upon meeting this man that their powers were not the same.
“I will have to find your friend. Seems like we have much to talk about.” The Preacher rose from the ground and motioned to the guards to come with him. Outside the cell door he turned back to Kelln one more time. “Your trial will be in one month’s time. Rest up. I want you strong so that the people can watch me tear you apart.”
Kelln collapsed back onto the ground once more. He had one more month to live. He dug backward, deep inside his own memories. They were all he had now to keep him from going totally insane.
Chapter Twenty Five
MARCHING TO BATTLE
Some rode horses, others walked, and a few took the supply wagons as they headed down out of the mountains, trying to beat the coming storm. Down the rugged mountain, they marched at a pace full of excitement. This was what they had been trained for. To serve the King. They were all lost in their own worlds while silently walking over the rough, muddy road. A few squirrels and winter rabbits scurried out of their way. The march would take a few weeks to get down the mountain and all the way south to Denir.
Darius glanced back at the lower, billowing clouds and realized they would not make it through the night without sleet and new snow. Winter weather had begun late that year, but now it seemed to be in full force. Darius smiled. The cold would make the men strong. They had been trained as elite soldiers for battles just like this.
Sometime in the middle of the darkened night, he heard rain begin to descend outside of his command tent. For a while it seemed the howling wind would rip his tent apart and send him sliding down the mountain. However, the tent held up and the monotonous, steady sound lulled him back into his dreams.
During the night the temperature dropped and the next morning the camp woke to a brilliant covering of white, being held in contrast to the darkened mist still hovering over them. Darius ordered the camp to eat quickly so they could depart. A few of the men mumbled that he was not being fair with them in regard to the weather.
In answer to one of these remarks, Darius pushed through the men to find the complaining soldier. “What don't you think is fair, soldier?”
“The storm is still upon us. We should be making preparations to keep us safe,” whispered the young man as Darius stood above him.
“Maybe you think it is fair that the people of Denir have an army at their backdoor. Maybe we should just wait here until winter is over. Then instead of saving them we can bury their bones.”
The young man cowered back, seeing the anger stream from Darius. “I am sorry, sir. I wasn't thinking.”
“I like someone who can admit when he is wrong,” Darius continued, lowering his voice. “But if this happens again I will let you stay here for as long as you want, by yourself in the freezing snow with a dishonorable discharge. You were chosen as an elite soldier. If you can’t face a little snow then maybe you will have to go be a grunt in the larger army.”
The group packed and started on again. The going was slow. Their feet dragged in the previous night’s snow. It would take them a week to descend the mountain passes before reaching the main road to Denir. As they moved on down the mountain, the snow turned into slush, and then mud that covered half the way up their knee-high boots. When night came again they found themselves a few miles farther but still a ways from the foothills.
A brilliant light woke Darius the next morning. He squinted in the clear sunlight. The sky, a clear blue, looked as if an artist had painted its far reaches during the night. Much of the water had soaked into the ground during the night, and even though it was still cool, the day found the young army full of enthusiasm.
After a quick breakfast of biscuits and fried meat, the group started out again. The supply wagons would catch up to them at midday. A group had already started out before dawn to set up for dinner later that evening. After six days of slugging through the mud and combatting a few rainstorm
s they eventually descended the foothills and camped at the base of the Superstition Mountains for the night. Darius could see the road leading to Anikari from the camp, and he wondered what his father would think of him now.
After setting up camp, Darius sent two men ahead to scout for any advance scouts from the Gildanian army.
The next morning, before beginning the march south, Darius rode back to the far wagons to see how they were doing. Without strong wagons, an army would starve and not be useful to anyone. A small figure marched next to one of the wagons. Darius thought the person looked too small for his army, but maybe they were one of the cook’s helpers. He almost turned away, not wanting to bother with it, when the sunlight caught something on the figure’s wrist. Curious, Darius approached him. As he did, the figure bent its head closer to the ground.
“Soldier! Stop!” Darius commanded, but the soldier continued walking even faster. “I said stop!” he repeated as he jumped down off his horse. He walked over and turned the soldier around.
Darius stared in astonishment. “What . . . How did you?” he stuttered in surprise. He couldn't tear himself away from the eyes for a moment. “Leandra!” he finally exclaimed.
“I needed to come with you, Darius. I couldn't stay in the mountains without you. I was so afraid when you left before.” she rambled on.
Anger flooded into Darius’s eyes for a moment, but he couldn't seem to find the words to match it. She gave him a hug, which caused others to glance over and see what was going on. Darius became embarrassed and confused. “I'll talk to you later,” Darius said briskly as he jumped back on his horse, turned quickly, and rode back to the front of the line to contemplate what to do. He was angry she was here because he didn't need her distractions right now. At the same time, the one hug from her and the smell of her sweet lilac scent brought back feelings he wasn't sure how to deal with. Darius wanted Leandra with him. He wanted her touch and her kiss to comfort him. Why now? he thought. I have an army to lead.
She came to him later in the day and Darius told her she could stay, but she had to take care of herself. She asked if she could set up her tent next to his and he consented, knowing it might be a mistake, but not wanting a distracting argument. A few of the men made whistles and catcalls behind his back, but he ignored them. They were most likely just jealous anyways.
They made slow progress down the road. Later that week the advance scouts returned. They had been to Denir and seen the Gildanian army. It actually turned out to only be a small battalion of about five hundred men. The foreigners had taken land in the southern end of the city, just over the border, and looked to be preparing to go further. They had not fought anyone yet. Darius couldn’t figure out why they would only bring such a small battalion into the Realm. They would know that the Realm army would mount their own attack with many more soldiers.
The Realm army, however, would take more time to assemble and march to Denir. The reason for the Elite Army was for things just like this. Darius dismissed the scouts and sat out on a log by himself to think. It was warmer here, being out of the mountains. Personally he was hoping for an early spring.
After a few minutes of silence someone touched him from behind. He turned, and Leandra stood above him. She looked beautiful, silhouetted in the firelight, with her breath making small wisps of fog that circled her face, then disappeared into the cold night. She wore a long, dark-blue wool cloak around her slim body. She pushed the hood back off her face, smiled, and bent down to him. I have to think of my army. I have to decide how to beat the Gildanians. I can't have this now.
She leaned down and kissed him. It had been a long time since she had kissed him like that; it had been before his trek into the mountains. It felt warm and exciting. Her scent lingered around him. I can't. I can't be distracted like this.
She rubbed her soft hands on his sore neck. She seemed to take the tension away. No! No!
“No, Leandra!” He tore her hands off his neck and stood up. “I can't. I have to think.”
“I can help,” she offered. Her sweet voice whispered through the night air.
“No. You distract me.” He walked further away from her. “Leave me alone. I don't know why I let you stay. Maybe I should send you back. I don't want you here.”
Darius’s back was to Leandra. That was the only way he could talk to her. He had to be strong or else she clouded his thinking. He heard her begin to cry, turn, and then leave. He wondered why he had let her stay. He wondered why he had let her kiss him.
Darius walked further away from the camp, disappearing into the dark, misty night. The night posed no problem for his eyesight. He seemed surprised by how the natural flow of power reacted to his needs now.
The Gildanians outnumbered him by more than double. He knew his soldiers were probably better trained, but this was their first battle and he couldn’t be too careful. He climbed up on a large rock and stared out into the endless darkness, wrapping his cloak around him to keep out the cold. The trees seemed to take on shapes of their own, looking like monsters guarding the ominous mountains. Shadows looked real, and what looked real might only be shadows; however, he could see better in the dark than he used to be able to. The camp began to quiet down as thoughts and plans came in quick succession to his power-enhanced mind.
Darius watched as a small sliver of moon highlighted the large pine trees against the nearby mountains. The fires around the camp all died down and only an occasional sound made him look around. He looked up at the glowing stars and exhaled, watching his breath frost up the air in front of him. We will win! he assured himself. I didn’t go through the training to lose everything now. He strolled back towards his tent, pausing for a moment in front of Leandra’s tent. He stood gazing at the enclosure a moment, not knowing what to think then turned and moved into his own tent by himself.
The next morning Darius gathered everyone together. He unveiled part of his plan. The rest would have to wait until he actually saw the enemy camp. A small part of his army would branch off and go into the foothills of the Superstition Mountains, coming around on the far side of Denir. The rest would continue to march as if going straight to Denir as planned, making sure that the Gildanians knew they were coming.
Darius announced that he would lead the smaller party of twenty-five men; men that were the best at combat training and following orders. They would travel two days and most of a third day over a rough terrain, with little rest, to get to Denir before the main army did. Many of the soldiers wanted to know what he was going to do with only twenty-five men, but Darius said they didn't need to know yet. Some of the men became angry at the sudden change of plans, but in the end, as things were forever throughout the Realm, soldiers followed their leaders into battle, and the men quieted down. With it being their first battle, they had to trust their new commander.
Darius was aware of the quiet, whispered complaints under their breath. He placed two other men he trusted in charge of the main army, handpicked his twenty-five men, and left, leaving Leandra with the main army. He thought about leaving without telling her, but she still seemed to be brooding over the previous evening’s encounter, so he talked to her for a few minutes and gave her a small farewell kiss. Her scent lingered in his mind as he left the main camp. He wondered how she managed to have perfume with her in an army camp.
Quickly and quietly, the small group spent the three days crossing the muddy foothills, bringing them to the west side of Denir late the third day. Their feet were soaked and the men were cold to their bones, but excitement filled the air.
Darius sent two men out of his group to scout out the perimeters of the Gildanian camp. He found out that it appeared that the Gildanians had indeed been fooled and were anticipating the main army marching in from the main road, with anticipation of having more time until the fighting would begin.
Chapter Twenty Six
POWER
There seemed to be a pre-celebration of victory already among the men in the Gildanian camp. Da
rius could smell the wine mixing with the roasting of meat over their open fires. They looked to be planning on going north out of Denir in the morning and meeting Darius’s main army before they entered the city.
“We must act tonight,” said Darius to his small group, as he laid out the plans for them to follow. They sat a few small hills away from the Gildanian army. He was full of confidence and smiled as he ordered his men in their respective roles. One part of the plan he kept to himself. He had to work his magic covertly for the time being. He was beginning to realize now it was part of him, but not a part he wished to expose too much too soon.
That evening, as dark settled like a heavy blanket over Denir, twenty-six men dug ditches to the west of the Gildanians’ camp. The air was cool, but the previous storm had gone north of Denir, leaving the ground wet, but not muddy. A small grassy knoll separated them from the camp. Their sentries stood on the north and east side, not expecting trouble behind their backs.
Darius experimented with his power by reaching out with his mind towards the edge of the enemy camp. He pulled some of the water out of the ground in the form of a light mist. His men would think it was natural. He was excited with what he could do and looked forward to seeing the look on the Gildanian commanders’ faces. The mist helped to hide their activities. They spent the next few hours digging multiple ditches with tools and shovels they had borrowed from the city. As each ditch was finished, the men headed off towards their next assignment.
Darius sat crouched behind a tent at the corner of the enemy camp. The Gildanians had stayed up late, drinking and talking, but now with a minimal amount of guards they slept with overconfidence. Darius still couldn’t figure out why the small battalion had come across the border in the first place. It seemed like a trap, but he couldn’t figure out what it would be a trap for. He would send a few of his men south in the morning to make sure another larger army wasn’t coming from Gildan.
