The Path of Decisions (7 page)

Darius whipped around and grabbed the old man’s tunic. “Right now,
old man, you are in my care. I am a commander of the King’s Elite Army, with
power to decide your fate as well as that of those around me. Be careful what
you say.”

A guard came up by Darius’s tent. “Is everything all right, sir?”

Darius felt foolish holding the blind man’s tunic in his hands. He
let go. “Yes. All is fine. I was just retiring to bed. It’s been a long day.”

The guard walked away. Alastair turned to go also. Over his
shoulder he asked one more question of Darius. “Are you a wizard of the heart,
mind, or earth?”

Darius froze but said nothing. He didn’t know what the old man was
talking about. He was not ready to have this discussion right now. “I am not a
wizard, just a commander with some minor powers that I a just beginning to
learn how to use.”

“From where did you inherit your power?”

Darius frowned in dismissal. “I am not in the mood to discuss my
personal life with you.”

“Power is either learned or inherited,” Alastair continued,
despite the warning in Darius’s voice to stop. “Since you don’t seem to
understand yours yet, I assume yours is inherited and not learned.”

“You go too far in pushing me, Alastair. For Kelln’s sake, I will
keep you safe until we reach Belor. Then you are on your own. If you interfere
in my business again I won’t be so tolerant.” With that, Darius entered his
tent.

Darius tried to lie down and sleep, but he couldn’t get the day’s
events from his mind. Mostly, he was bothered by who else in his small group
had power and how much power they might hold. Was there a traitor in their
midst? But why would a traitor save his life? It didn’t make sense. And what
right did the old man have to ask him personal questions about his abilities?
He didn’t know what branch of magic he had. He hadn’t even known there were
differing types of the power.

And as for inheritance, he knew his father didn’t possess any sort
of magic. But he had to admit, he did have powers of some type or another and
those powers gave him an advantage. He needed to learn to use that advantage
more. His first test would be with the Preacher.

At last tiredness overcame his thoughts, and he slipped into a
comfortable sleep.

ENEMIES OR ALLIES?

E
very fifth man held a torch as the group walked with slow and
deliberate steps through the century-old tunnels under Belor. It had been three
days since the forging of the Black River. As they came to each fork in the
tunnels, Kelln described the surroundings, and Alastair would turn one way or
another, leading the party forward. He was going on memory of years before.
They lost all track of time in the dark labyrinth. For Darius the trek was
taking much too long, and he became short-tempered and irritated. The tunnels
made a perfect trap. The power in him wanted to jump out and strike someone,
but he kept it in check.

Soon Darius would face the infamous Preacher. He would find out
where his powers came from and bring him to heel for his crimes against the
Realm.

Leandra echoed Darius’s growing fears. “Are you sure we aren't
lost?” The darkness, distant echoing of water, and occasional scamper of
something across the floor had them all jumpy.

“We are close,” was all the old man said.

A few moments later Alastair stopped and informed Darius they were
about to enter the lower dungeon of the palace, and he knew of a room they
could enter that was never used. They moved through a doorway leading into a
hallway under the palace walls. Darius felt the presence of a power and
shuddered at its strength. Darius ordered their Belorian prisoners into one of
the cells. He closed and locked the door and told them to exchange clothes with
some of his men.

“There used to be six men. Now I only count five.” Darius said to
his men. “Where is the other?”

The Elite soldiers spread out and looked everywhere, but the
missing man couldn’t be found.

“Do you want us to backtrack and look for him?” asked one of
Darius’s men.

“No, that will take too long, and we could lose what element of
surprise we have left.” Darius and four of his men put on the uniforms of the
Belorian guards; then they went to find the Preacher. Alastair told Kelln the
way, then remained below the palace with Mezar and the rest of Darius’s Elite
soldiers.

The small group of impostors climbed the numerous stone stairs
bringing them out of the eerie dungeons and into the main palace grounds. The
palace courtyard seemed to be clean and well kept. Darius noticed others
dressed like them in the red Belorian uniforms. He touched Kelln’s arm. Kelln
jumped and frowned. After asking directions, they continued toward the
Preacher’s sitting rooms. It was early evening now, and they hoped the Preacher
would be in his chambers.

Guards stood stationed outside of the Preacher’s room. Dressed in
a Belorian uniform, Darius asked to see the Preacher.

“What is your purpose?” asked one of the guards.

“We have captured the escaped prisoner.”

Darius looked at Kelln without emotion. Kelln looked like he might
reach out and try to kill him.

“Give him to us, and we will bring him in.” One of the guards
insisted.

“He is dangerous. The Preacher ordered us to deliver him in
person,” continued Darius.

“Just a moment,” said the guard as he went inside the room.

“This is your plan?” whispered Kelln in anger. “You had no right
to drag me into this. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Then why are you?” Darius’s mouth held tight, and his eyebrows
furrowed.

“To help you,” Kelln shot back.

Darius was about to argue when the guard returned and motioned
them in. Kelln was pushed in front of Darius and his soldiers, who all had
their hands on the hilt of their swords.

As the imposters entered the ornate and lush room, the Preacher
stood looking out of a window. His back was toward the visitors. The man was
dressed all in black, from his boots to a cape that almost seemed to float
around him. The only color was a yellow band around his arm, and his
short-cropped red hair, marking him Belorian by birth. The opulence of the room
showed Darius the Preacher’s weakness. This man was motivated by greed and
excess; he wanted others to see his power through his wealth.

The room was warm, with a large fire in the corner stone fireplace.
Gold artifacts and books covered one wall and a large tapestry the other.
Oversized red velvet chairs with cushions stood in each corner. The lavish room
was as much a royal suite as some of the rooms in the castle in Anikari. The
guards left and the six of them seemed alone in the room with the Preacher.

Darius smiled at the stroke of luck. This would be easier than
capturing Mezar and his battalion.

“Sir, we have returned with the prisoner.” Darius kept his voice
even. He felt power crackling through the walls.

“Very good,” said the Preacher without turning around. “He will be
executed in two days”

Kelln gulped and turned pale as the Preacher continued.

“Right before you!” The Preacher spun around with fire in his
eyes. “How dare you come in here. Darius, isn't it?”

The sound of Darius’s sword being pulled from his sheath filled
the air. The power surged in him, and the sword glowed. The rest of the group
followed, and the hiss of swords against scabbards filled the air. Before
Darius had taken two steps, men began to pour into the room from behind the
tapestry and from a doorway in the opposite corner. The Elite men’s training
was far superior to the Belorians’, Darius guessed, but could not match what
seemed like dozens of men surrounding them at once in the large room. Their
swords were drawn and their teeth clenched. They were ready to fight to the
death, but he thought he could even the odds.

Darius let himself get angry, then filled himself with power and
pushed out a force of air toward the Preacher. It was easier every time. As
suddenly as Darius had acted, the Preacher reacted and sent his own answer of
fire toward Darius. Bright power hit Darius on the arm, and he fell onto a soft
carpet. A horrible taint of magic spread through his body. It was all he could
do to summon his own power and to feel clean and calm again. The stench of the
Preacher’s magic filled his nostrils with a vile scent, and his mouth tasted
unnatural.

“How...?” Darius whispered. His eyes went wide.

A portion of the group cleared as someone walked through and into
the center of the room next to the Preacher.

“Alessandra!” exclaimed Kelln.

“My daughter warned me of your coming. She seemed to have a change
of heart from last week.” The Preacher’s wicked smile moved from Alessandra to
Kelln. The Preacher’s guards took away all of Darius’s men, leaving only Darius
and Kelln in the room with him and Alessandra. Two guards remained standing
next to either side of the door.

Alessandra stood alone by the window. Tears stained her green
riding shirt. She walked with a limp, and her arms were bandaged. Kelln’s face
twisted in a grimace.

The Preacher took two steps forward with incredible speed. It
brought him face to face with Darius. “As for your little puny power, you might
want to learn something about it before you attack a master wizard.”

“A master?” Darius still stood dazed at the amount of power he had
felt hit him. He realized at that moment this man called simply the Preacher
was not simple at all.

The Preacher’s grin went from ear to ear. “I could have killed
you. I surmise you know that now. But that would not solve anything. I am sure
like others, you have been told lies about me and about the power we both
share. Now you can see for yourself how powerful I am. I am a master wizard in
the ways of the power that you cannot even comprehend. I can feel great
potential in you. I am very interested in getting to know you better, Darius.”

Two guards stood by the door, and Kelln stood a few paces from
Darius, glaring at Alessandra.

“Bring him in,” ordered the Preacher in answer to a knock on the
door. In walked Alastair. Armored guards held him on each side. The Preacher
turned toward Kelln. “Do not think you were so special to her, Kelln. She
wanted so much more to keep her grandfather alive.”

“Is he so strong you need two guards to hold him?” asked Kelln.

Alastair stood in silence. Kelln watched Alessandra looking at
him. Tears dripped from the corner of her eyes.

“Father.” The Preacher looked into Alastair’s face. “It has been a
long time. I thought you had died by now.”

“You are no son of mine.”

Annoyance flashed across the Preacher’s face. “Take them all away!
Except for Darius. I would like to visit with this commander of whom I have
heard so much.”

In an instant the guards removed them from the Preacher's rooms.

After all were gone, the Preacher turned to Darius. “Well, I have
heard a lot about you, Darius, Commander of the King’s Elite Army.” He smiled
and motioned Darius to sit down. The Preacher's chair sat slightly higher than
his own. Maybe the man wasn’t so confident after all.

“Where did you get that sword?” The Preacher asked.

“I found it.” Darius was not ready to relay too much information
too quickly. He had to work this situation to his advantage before the Preacher
locked him away.

Darius remembered the day he had first learned he had power inside
him. He and Kelln had been stuck in the dark in a room under the old library.
Willing himself to see through the fear of darkness, he had found a spark of
flame forming in his hands. His life had never been the same since then. That
is the day he had also found the sword lying in an old cupboard in the room. At
first touch, he had been given a vision of how the sword had been forged, with
magic.

“Found it?” the Preacher walked over to where the rare sword sat
against a wall and picked it up. “Do you know what the writing says?”

“No.” Darius wondered why the sword held the Preacher’s attention
so much.

“It is the sword of a master. The inscription names its maker. A
very powerful wizard.” The Preacher’s fingers trembled as he held the hilt. “I
can feel its power.” The Preacher closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if
soaking in the power of the sword.

“How do you know about this?”

“I know a great many things, Darius. I have been in Mar’s
underground, where many secrets can be found, and I have learned things at the
feet of the sorcerers and wizards far away across the Eastern Sea. They are
respected in that continent. I have power you could only dream of. I would be a
powerful ally for you.”

Darius smiled and leaned his tired body back in the soft red
chair. His mind raced with possibilities as he felt the Preacher’s power wash
over him. Powerful feelings drew him closer to the man in front of him. Maybe
this preacher wasn’t so bad. He felt a kinship with him already. When the
Preacher looked at him he felt confident and was sure they could work things
out. Maybe the Preacher could help Darius cleanse the Realm from apathy and
complacency among its noble elite.

“Did the sword awaken your power?” asked the Preacher.

“Yes. How did you know?” Darius sat up straight in the chair.

“That is often the case. A magical talisman or relic reaches deep
inside you and brings to the forefront your potential to use the power.”

Darius soaked the words of the Preacher in. If this Preacher
understood him and the power, then he might be able to instruct Darius in its
use. Finally someone to teach and train him.

The Preacher pulled down a long cord with his jeweled fingers, and
a bell rang off in the distance. A beautiful servant girl with dark tilted eyes
and black hair entered the room.  Her skin was a soft brown, not unlike
Mezar’s, but her build was smaller. She appeared to be not much younger than
Darius. She smiled at Darius and curtsied as she left.

“You are admiring my servants? She is from one of the eastern
kingdoms. They are raised there to respect our powers.”

“I am admiring the way your servants treat you,” Darius smiled. He
lifted his goblet and drank in deep gulps. The juice was a cool blend of apple
and pear.

Something deep inside Darius warned him that what he was feeling
wasn’t real. The Preacher was somehow manipulating his feelings and thoughts.
The drain on his body from the trek through the Black Forest and his confrontation
with the Preacher’s power was too much to fight the deep compulsion. Darius
stopped fighting it and relaxed. He began asking the Preacher about his powers.
They talked and laughed and discussed strategies deep into the night.

The Preacher eventually stood. “You and I are a lot alike Darius.
You can see that can’t you?”

Darius stood up from his chair and stood a few feet from the
Preacher. The man was a few inches taller than Darius, but he felt awed in his
presence. So much power and wealth and poise. “We both have been treated
unfairly.” Darius agreed almost without thought. “I would like to learn more
about you and your powers.”

“And you will.” The preacher added. “Stay with me for a while, and
I will teach you.”

Darius smiled. This was going much better than planned. He looked
at the Preacher again and something in the back of his mind set off an alarm.
There was something else he should be doing here in Belor, but he couldn’t seem
to remember what it was. He thought he heard someone calling his name— far far
away in the back of his mind. He shook his head to clear it. “I am tired. Can
we continue this conversation tomorrow?”