The Path of Decisions (2 page)

DANGER

C
hristine Anderssn sat on her Cremelino horse, Lightning, at the
edge of a meadow she and Darius had named the Field of Diamonds. With a long
sigh, she gazed across the Lake of Reflection toward the Superstition Mountains
and wondered for the thousandth time in the last seven months if she would ever
see Darius again. Her long blonde hair, untied for now, blew around her
shoulders in the breeze. Her green eyes, once soft, now hardened, stared off
into the distance, as if she was willing herself to find Darius.

Her young life, just shy of eighteen years, had been in turmoil
since Darius had left the city. A petition to the King regarding the condition
of the farmers had been denied, and recently her father had passed away due to
smoke and wounds sustained in a fire that had burned their barns and fields.
The fire was set most assuredly by someone from the city who didn’t care for
the
outsiders
, as the farmers were commonly referred to.

The term “outsiders”, and such negative treatment, went back to a
time many generations before when a group of wizards from Anikari revolted
against the King and the nobles’ rule. In the end, the nobles loyal to the
throne had destroyed many of the most powerful wizards and had banished the
remaining lesser wizards from Anikari to live in the fields. Since then, anyone
living in the farm lands outside the walls of Anikari was deemed an outsider
and a threat to the King’s laws and rules by most of the noble bloodlines.

Darius had been one of the few nobles who accepted Christine and
her family.

A silent tear now dripped down Christine’s face as she tried to find
something to hold on to in her tumultuous life.

Stroking the brilliant white mane of her horse, she felt thoughts
of comfort in return. The special Cremelino had been a gift from Darius. It was
a breed of large horse usually only allowing one rider. The horse and rider
developed a special bond with each other.

Christine had become so used to the Cremelino’s voice in her mind
by now. More than just closeness, she found out she could communicate with the
horse through their thoughts. She didn’t know if it was normal or not, but
surmised that other nobles with Cremelinos were not able to communicate like
she did. Maybe it was a remnant of the lesser wizards’ blood that was rumored
to flow through some of those who lived in the farmlands still.

Thinking of Darius left her heart feeling empty once again. She
still hoped he thought of her with fondness and wished he would return soon.

Be at peace Christine, he will return.

Through the tears, Christine smiled at Lightning’s attempt at
comfort. The horse was so named due to her speed.

“How can you be so sure?” she answered back.

The Prophecy. Darius has much to do with the prophecy.

Forgotten lines of ancient magic

 and the power of the throne.

One will make them both his own

 if his heart sees the true power.

He will bring light to fight darkness

and love to fight hate

if he reaches into the power of his heart. . .

 “But
how can prophecy help our plight? There is no excuse for the
treatment we receive. My father is dead!” Christine held the tears in and replaced
them with anger. If she couldn’t feel joy, then anger would suffice as an
emotion to hold on to. “Can prophecy bring him back?”

Let go of your anger
, the Cremelino chastened her softly.
It will destroy you.

Kicking the flanks of her horse, rather than sending the normal
silent command, Christine rode out of the meadow. “My anger is all I have right
now. Darius is gone. My father is gone. Will you leave me, too?” she asked the
Cremelino.

Never, my child. I am here for you. This is the way things are meant
to be.

Weaving in and out of leafless oaks and maples sprinkled with
green pines, they flew over the late winter ground until they emerged onto the
dirt road leading from the farm lands to the city. The road was ill maintained,
and pot holes from a recent storm dotted the dirt. A new storm brooded on the
horizon, sending a cool wind across Christine’s face.

Up ahead before a bend in the road they spotted movement behind
some trees. Christine slowed down, peering forward to catch the movement again.
Lightning stomped the ground and whinnied, eyes fixed on the same spot.

As the two neared the spot, suddenly three young men jumped out in
front of her horse, forcing them to stop. The abrupt halt caught Christine by
surprise and she was thrown off the horse and onto the wet dirt.

“What do we have here?” said one of the young men, stepping out in
front of the others. The three looked around the same age as Chistine. Their
wool pants tucked into their high black boots and thick black cloaks marked
them from inside the walls of Anikari. The apparent leader had a goatee, while
the others did not appear old enough yet to grow one.

Christine stood up and tried to ignore them, not even brushing
herself off in her hurry to mount Lightning again. Her heart began to pound.

“Nice horse you have here,” said the leader. “Looks way too rich
for an outsider to own. Did you steal her?”

“She was a gift.” Christine hoped only she heard her voice
tremble. She grabbed a fistful of Lightning’s mane to pull herself up.

The three young men laughed. Another one, shorter but stockier
than the rest, moved next to the horse, shoved Christine away, and reached his
hand out to the mare’s mane. “No one could afford to give you a gift like
this.”

With the touch of the man’s hand, Lightning snorted and stepped
back a pace.

The leader of the group moved to grab the horse. “We will take her
back to her rightful owner.”

With an angry neigh, Lightning reared up and kicked the young man
hard in the chest. A bag he had been holding smashed to the ground, and its
contents scattered across the road as he crumpled beside it. The other two
backed up a couple of steps, eyes suddenly hard.

Something caught Christine’s eye, and she reached down and picked
up a small packet from the scattered pack. It held flint, steel, and tinder,
wrapped around with a string. Sudden anger took the trembling from her limbs,
and she turned to face the three men.

“What’s this for?” she yelled at the leader who was scrambling
backwards to get off of the ground.

He reached toward her to take back his belongings. “None of your
business. Now give it back to me.”

All three of the young men moved closer. Lightning moved between
them and Christine.

“Stupid horse,” said the third man. He was tall and thin and
reminded Christine of her friend Thomas. He tried to push the Cremelino away,
but the horse pushed him back with her head.

“Leave the horse alone and get the girl,” the leader said. “And
get my stuff from the ground.”

The three instigators moved closer to Christine again. Her heart
pounded in her chest and ears. How was she going to fight three young men off?
She still held the flint and steel. “Have you been starting the fires on our
land?”

“What if we did? What are you going to do about it?” The shorter
one said, grabbing for Christine’s hand. He caught her wrist and held tight,
yanking her forward and away from Lightning’s protection.

“Let go of me! You have no right!” Christine yelled. The grip was
strong, and her wrist throbbed with sudden pain.

The man reached his other hand toward Christine’s hand that held
their belongings. She put the pack behind her back. The taller one moved behind
Christine and grabbed for it. She kicked back at him but couldn’t get far
enough with the other man holding on to her wrist.

With the shorter one holding her wrist, the other two moved in
closer around her, the leader having grabbed a large stick to beat Lightning
with. The taller one reached in and slapped Christine hard across the face,
sending a sting of pain. The similarities to her friend Thomas ended with his
tall physical build.  The man’s temperament was cruel, quite opposite of her
friend.

“Her face looks as red as the fire did,” said the shorter one,
still holding her wrist.

“Shut up,” said the leader. “You talk too much.”

Christine straightened up at the talk of the fire. Her anger from
earlier resurfaced. “You started those fires? Why?”

The leader stepped up in front of her face. “Because we heard
about your pathetic petition. You need to stay out of our business and our city.”

“We’ve done nothing to you.” Christine’s face reddened further,
and her jaw clenched. She had never been so angry in her life. Her green eyes
flashed hot. “We grow your food and raise your cattle. You would die without
us!”

“That’s your job, outsider.” The leader moved closer in front of
her.  She could smell his putrid breath. “You grow the food, and we eat it. You
live in the farms, and we live in the city. You do what we say, and we live a
happy life.”

Christine tried to squirm out of the man’s hold. “You killed my
father!” Her mind flashed with her father lying in their home with burns and
scrapes, trying to breathe, giving his final sentiments to their family.
Christine and Lightning had rescued him from the fire, but the smoke and burns
were too much to overcome his already weakened body. In his dying words he
revealed to his family his upbringing in the city and his suffering at the
hands of his city-born ancestors. The same city these young men were from.

The leader of the group stroked his goatee and faltered for a
moment, but quickly recovered and reached for her other hand. The shorter man
backed away now, giving control of the situation to the leader. Grabbing the
flint and steel pack, he pulled Christine’s arm around her and held her tight. “Now
what do we do with her, boys?”

The gang of tormentors laughed.

Christine, fall to the ground.
The Cremelino’s command came swift and fast to her mind.

Christine let her legs go limp. Her captor’s hand slipped
partially away. In that moment Lightning struck, wheeling around the group out
of reach of the sticks and rearing down hard on the back of the leader who
still had a slight grasp on her hand.

Bones snapped, and the man screamed out in pain. The other two
moved to help him. Lightning reared again with her strong hooves pounding
against the shorter man, leaving only the tallest of the three still standing.
He moved around Lightning and grabbed Christine’s long hair. She shrieked and
jumped up on her feet in one quick motion. Her head slammed up under the young
man’s chin with a loud crack.  He screamed and held his jaw.

Christine reached down and picked up the flint and steel pack the
men had dropped.  She swung up onto Lightning and steadied herself. The horse
barely waited for Christine to find a safe hold before speeding her away in a
blur of unbelievable quickness. One last glance showed the three young men
trying to get up. The leader of the cruel group could barely stand.

Heart pounding with rage, Christine hardly felt the pain in her
wrist. Adrenaline flowed freely through her terrified body. It felt good to
fight back. It felt good to hurt those who had hurt her. There were no more
tears, only a new, unyielding resolve to continue fighting.

ESCAPE

“W
here are we going?” whispered Kelln, trying not to stumble in
the darkness. It had been three weeks since the interrogators had last beaten
him. Three long weeks since the Preacher had invaded his mind with his foul and
evil magic and ripped memories from him. Memories that betrayed thoughts that
his best friend Darius had the powers of a wizard. His body had been so
weakened during the interrogation that his legs were just now strong enough to
hold him up.

“Just keep hold of my hand,” said Alessandra. She paused a moment
and looked around, as if deciding which way to go. Her long auburn hair was
died black again, the way it always was when she worked in secret.

Kelln remembered the first time they met, back in Anikari at the
beginning of last summer, almost seven months ago. She was slightly older than
his nineteen years and wore many disguises as she had helped others come into
the Preacher’s fold. It was hard to know what she really looked like.

It had been seven long months in Belor, and now winter was on the
cusp of ending. Once again Alessandra led him out of a city. Kelln had left
Anikari with her soon after his graduation from the academy. His father, the
city’s swordmaker, had defected to Belor to help the Preacher in his rebellion
against King Edward. Kelln had wanted to find out for himself what was
happening in Belor, so after consulting with Darius he had consented to
following Alessandra here.

Kelln squinted his eyes and tried to see Alessandra in the musty
darkness, but no matter how hard he tried all he could distinguish was black.
Pitch black. The kind he could smell and feel. He tried to keep from breathing
too hard, as the smell reminded him of something rotten and left behind years
ago. Off in the distance Kelln strained to listen to small trickles of water
dripping on rock. The soft echoes grew louder as they walked in the dark
caverns. He knew they were somewhere deep under the Belorian royal palace,
deeper even than the dungeons he had been held and beaten in. It seemed like
hours since Alessandra had offered him escape from the dungeon prison where he
had been held unfairly for treason and murder.

He didn’t know why she was helping him escape, though he hoped it
had to do with feelings she might have for him. She supported the Preacher by
helping the oppressed escape throughout the Realm and come to Belor to help the
Preacher fight. The fight that in Kelln’s mind was ridiculous and had little
basis in fact or reason. The Preacher taught that the people in Belor were
being burdened by King Edward and the Realm, that they had their own right to
rule themselves, and that the Preacher should be their ruler. Kelln saw it as
just another way for the Preacher to get more power. He hadn’t seen any strong
proof of anything to support the Preacher’s claims of any real type of oppression.

Kelln felt rather than saw Alessandra slow down and turn in
another direction. Something scattered off in front of him.
Something
actually lives down here?
“I hope you know where you’re going.”

Even in the dark, Kelln knew the penetrating look Alessandra gave
to him with her almond-shaped brown eyes. He was meant to be quiet and do what
she told him. That was the deal she offered him when she came down early this
morning into his cell. His heartbeat seemed to echo throughout the
never-ending, narrowing cavern. He bumped into the cool, rough walls more often
now.  He didn’t know if it was his weakening strength or the narrowing of the
walls.

Kelln still wasn't sure he should trust Alessandra. He wondered if
it was a trap, but the alternative was to die in the dungeon cells below Belor.
His trial was a week away, and he was sure it would be a mockery of any
justice. It would be a time for the Preacher to show his followers that he
would not tolerate weakness or worse yet, rebellion in his ranks. In Belor’s
fight with the Realm, Kelln had disobeyed orders to kill a Realm soldier. The
Preacher was using him as a means to keep others in control— a message and
warning.

Kelln stumbled, and Alessandra waited for him. His breathing was
ragged, and with limbs still recovering from the dungeon he barely stayed
upright.

In all the months in prison, she had been the only one to see him.
Well, the only one besides those who beat him. He still had a hard time
sleeping at night. The horrors he went through would be a long time leaving. He
had hoped so many times that his father or family would come see him, but they
didn’t. He couldn’t understand how his father had been duped by the Preacher.

They stopped again.

Alessandra turned him yet again, through another hall. Off in the
distance, Kelln thought he could make out a faint light. His heart seemed to
lift out of the gloom toward a new sensation of hope. In the growing excitement
he began to move more quickly, almost knocking Alessandra down.

“Just a minute,” Alessandra said in a stern voice. “You have to go
slowly.”

“Why? I can see the opening.” Kelln tried to move quicker.

Alessandra stopped and turned. She twisted Kelln's hand around.
The outline of her tense face in the dim light made him stop. She had been entrusted
with much under the Preacher’s regime. Smuggling people out of Anikari was one
of them. Being of Belorian blood himself, and with his father being a
swordmaker, he guessed their family had been a logical choice to recruit.

“Why did you stop?” He tried to push past her slim but toned body.

Kelln tried following her pointing finger toward the ground about
three feet in front of where they stood. It took a few seconds for the light to
let him realize what was there. What he saw made his face rigid and his hands
tighten; a three foot wide hole in the rock pathway.

“I didn't know.” His voice quieted down.

“That’s why I told you to follow me,” she said with a smile he
couldn't tell was wicked or congenial.

One by one they jumped across the large hole in the rock pathway.
The sound of rushing water hit against the thick walls deep below. Alessandra
made the jump in one quick motion.  Kelln however had to rest a moment to
regain strength in his legs. With one false start, he jumped across the hole,
falling to the ground on the other side. He maneuvered his pack on his back in
order to stand back up. His weakened muscles were sore. He had never been tall
or very strong, but had been agile and active enough to keep up with most of
the stronger boys growing up.

Sudden light poured into Kelln’s eyes as they emerged from the
cave. He brought his hand up to shield the worst of it away while blinking a
few times. His bright red hair reflected the western sun, and he soaked in the
light and warmth he hadn’t felt in months. He looked over at Alessandra and
smiled.

“Where are we?”

“West of the city. About three hundred yards outside the walls.”

Kelln looked down at a small river moving a few feet from where
they stood. Looking west, he viewed the Everlasting Meadows. Doing so brought
back the memory of when he had first come to Belor with Alessandra. It seemed
so long ago. Belor sat at the southeastern edge of the Realm, close to the Blue
Sea and just north of the Gildan empire. It would take some time to get back to
Anikari, but he needed to find Darius and talk to his friend’s father, the
King’s councilor. They would know what to do. The Preacher needed to be
stopped.

“I have to get back,” said Alessandra.

“No! Stay with me!” Kelln blurted out without thinking. “Don’t you
understand what they are doing, Alessandra?”

Alessandra looked to the ground. He could tell that at least part
of her wanted to stay. She paused as if considering. “I can't, Kelln. Not now.”

Kelln walked over to her and held her face in his hands. “Why not?
I don't understand you. Why save me, but not save yourself? I can tell you have
doubts about what is going on. If you stay you might die.”

Tears gathered in the corners of Alessandra's eyes. She tried to
brush them away. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep the wind from
blowing her clothes around. “You just don't understand.”

“What don't I understand? Tell me,” he pleaded. She was right, he
didn’t understand. He had watched how the Preacher not only intimidated people
with his size, but with his evil powers. He was charismatic to the people, but
he didn’t care one bit about anyone other than himself.

Alessandra looked across the meadows and took a few moments to
compose herself. Kelln’s heart lifted. He hoped she would change her mind. She
would be better off away from Belor.

She turned around and walked back toward the hidden cave they had
emerged from moments before. “I have to go. It will take me a while to get
back. I don’t want them to be suspicious of me.”

“How did you know the way out?” asked Kelln, knowing he wouldn't
get an answer. She made him so angry sometimes. She was so beautiful, he
couldn't stand it, yet she hid herself so much that Kelln didn't know who she
really was.

“You’d better hurry away from the city. They will be searching for
you soon.” She brought a black cap out of a small pack she carried and tossed
it to him. “And cover up that unruly red hair. You will be seen for miles if
you don’t.”

“Sure.” He smiled. “I don’t understand, but I do appreciate you
helping me.”

“I am not a monster.” Her voice was tight with emotion. “I do care
about you. I couldn’t bear it if you were killed.”

“Are you sure you won’t come with me?”

Kelln thought he heard a whispered “yes” as Alessandra moved back
behind two rocks toward the cave. He stood looking out across the meadows. A
barely discernible spring green was starting to show through the winter brown.
The wind blew across the blades of grass like the waves of an ocean bringing in
a storm.

With careful, painful steps he descended the rocks into the
Everlasting Meadows. His short legs shook from the exertion of the escape.
However, he felt alive again. The wind grew slightly warmer as he descended
into the grassy plain, and his spirits lifted.

He smiled to himself as he remembered how he and Darius had talked
of wanting adventure. Well, this qualified as an adventure. It felt good to be
free again. There were dangers, and ever since he had arrived in Belor his
energy and free will seemed sapped from him. Now once again he was free and in
control, and it felt fantastic.

The escape had come upon him so suddenly, he hadn’t had time to
think. He decided to head toward the Black Forest and then across the Black
River. From there he would head north. He would not be able to hide long in the
open meadows.

Kelln El’Han, the son of a swordmaker, had been Darius’s best
friend throughout most of their time in the Anikari academy. After leaving to
Belor last year, Kelln was sure his friend would have tried to visit him. Maybe
he tried and couldn’t get through. Darius’s father would be keeping him busy in
learning the politics of the Realm. Darius despised it, but Kelln wondered if
his best friend would be able to get away from it all or not.

Looking around him, Kelln kept an eye out for anyone following or any
other dangers. As adventuresome as he used to dream of being, he realized he
had never really been out alone very much. The quiet bothered him. He started
whistling a silly tune and tried to keep his pace up.

With multiple stops to rest, it took him a grueling four days to
reach the Black River. Kelln dropped exhausted onto the sandy banks of the
swollen river. The recent rains had widened the river up the bank. A few trees
stood inside the edge of the water. He caught some fish and cooked them over a small
fire, not even waiting until they cooled down to devour the tasty meat.

“This is fantastic,” he said out loud. He couldn’t remember the
last time he’d had a meal with meat. It wouldn’t take long for his small frame
to regain the strength he needed.

He spread the blanket in his pack across the ground and lay down.
But he couldn’t sleep. In the darkness, his memory ran wild with the whips,
kicks, and inhumane treatment he had received in the black Belorian dungeons.
He tried to block it all away and turned his thoughts to earlier in his life.
He went back to that one time in the library with Darius when they had
accidently been locked into the dark basement.  It was then that Darius had
first discovered his powers. Their great need to find their way out must have
unlocked Darius’s mind to his magical abilities. It seemed like a lifetime ago,
but in reality it was only the previous spring.

Kelln smiled at the happy memory and wondered if Darius still had
the sword he had taken out of the room. Thoughts of the sword made Kelln wonder
about Darius’s new magical abilities. He had seemed so reluctant to use them.
Kelln would have embraced the power and strengthened it until he became the
most powerful wizard in the Realm. He laughed out loud. It was easy to be tough
when no one was around.

He wanted to return to Anikari and find Darius. The men in Belor
would be looking for him, though. If he headed west for a few miles farther and
then headed north he would circle around to the backside of Anikari, even though
it meant passing deeper into the Black Forest.  Looking around in the dark, he
shivered slightly at treading deeper into the trees.  He was aware of all the
rumors and magical stories, but how could a bunch of trees and small animals
hurt him?