The Path Of Destiny (5 page)

The King stood up. His father clenched his teeth in anger. A
few nobles whispered to each other. Christine tried to yell but only a whisper
emerged from her dry lips. All this Darius saw and heard in the blink of an
eye.

Sean gaped wide-eyed still out on the field, not moving a
muscle.

“Nothing to say now, Sean?” he taunted Sean in return. “No
jokes on your quick tongue?”

Darius pulled the string back a little farther and the crowd
gasped.

Concentrate! Focus!
He controlled the power and it
exploded through him to do his bidding. He perceived each hair on Sean’s head.
He distinguished each feather in the arrows already stuck in the target. All at
once his body hit ultimate calmness and balance. He breathed, smiled broadly,
and knew his aim would be true.

In one fluid motion he stepped to his right two steps and
let the arrow go.

The crowd breathed in deep unison.

Sean stood frozen.

All eyes were on the target.

The hushed silence broke with wild cheers of amazement.
Darius’s fourth arrow flew an arrow’s width away from Sean’s head and hit in
the exact center of the target, fitting tightly against Darius’s previous ones.

Sean fell to the ground in exasperation.

Kelln whooped with joy. “Fantastic!”

Christine let out a deep sigh.

Darius looked down the field to Sean and said, “you aren't
worth it,” and walked away.

Before sitting down he added a shout: “And I don't think you
won, Sean.”

The crowd laughed and cheered. They were definitely
entertained that day. Sean turned a deep shade of red as anger and
embarrassment filled his face. He walked off the field, turning around once to
mouth a general threat at Darius that no one heard.

The last finalist took his shots, but the crowd hardly
cared. They had never seen such a competition before.

Kelln brought Darius some ointment and a cloth to put on his
hand.

“I almost blew it, didn't I? I just can’t seem to help it
anymore.” Darius looked around to make sure no one else was near. “The power
rages in me and has to get out, Kelln. I barely overcame it this time. What if
I don’t next time? That’s not how I want to live my life. I need to protect the
Realm, not jeopardize it. What am I going to do?” He hung his head down,
visibly shaken.

Kelln smiled at his friend. “But you won, Darius. Maybe you
need that temper to get things done. Maybe that is how it works. You gave us
quite a show today. People will be talking about this for a long time!”

“No, Kel,” smiled back Darius. “
We
won.” He handed
back the bow to Kelln. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

“You looked so calm at the end. You were taking a big
chance,” added Kelln.

“I was not taking any chances, Kel. If you could have seen
like I did. There was no chance to lose. Everything stood out in so much
detail. That’s what calmed me down.”

“I think I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be. Most of the time it gets me in more trouble than
it’s worth.”

“That’s true. Now that I think of it, it has been you
getting us into trouble lately instead of me. I think I like that.”

They both laughed and Darius began to relax.

The awards ceremony was held to give out the individual
awards and the overall tournament award, the King’s Cup, a large golden
chalice. When the speaker announced Darius’s name, the crowd went wild
cheering, yelling, and clapping. Darius felt a slight embarrassment over the
incident. It wasn’t that Sean didn’t deserve it, but it was not how Darius
wanted to act. He needed to be better than that. Darius stared down at the
medal that hung on the end of a sculptured piece of brass with a picture of a
bowman shooting a bullseye.

Afterwards, with the award around his neck and the cup in
his hand, Darius started out towards the competitors’ gate to see Christine and
his friends; his parents would be a little longer as they wound their way out
from the rest of the nobles.

“Way to go, Darius.” said Jain. “Congratulations. You sure
showed that fool.”

Darius just smiled.

“Yes, congratulations, Darius,” echoed Emily.

Christine didn't say a whole lot. He knew she did not agree
with his fighting behavior. She just gave him a hug, but it was enough to make
him feel better.

After talking to a few more friends who seemed to ignore
Christine and her siblings, the four of them turned back towards the stands. It
felt good to win. He felt proud inside that all the work and practice had paid
off.

Christine stopped and gave another surprise hug to Darius.
“Thank you,” she smiled. “Thank you for standing up for us. You said you would
change things and I think today might be a start.”

“I just hope it is a good change, and that I didn’t ruin
anything. It was dumb of me to tackle him,” Darius admitted.

Darius knew that even though she did not like the fighting,
she was proud of Darius defending her. He wondered at times how such a strong
feeling had developed between him and Christine the past year. They came from
such different places in life.

Darius’s father and mother approached. Their clothes were
exquisite. His mother in a deep burgundy gown with gold jewelry, and his father
with his royal purple cape over a red shirt. He was sure his father would be so
proud of him. It was he who had taught Darius to shoot and had made him
practice for so many years.

His mother gave him a hug and took the cup into her hands to
study her son’s award. “You did well, Darius,” she smiled, “but next time . . .
a little less excitement?”

Darius knew that was her way of being proud that he won, but
not of the way he reacted to the situation. He didn’t blame her.

He gave her a hug and smiled. She was always there for him,
even when his father hadn’t been. She did not express concern about the time he
spent with Christine like his father did. His mother did not crave the
limelight like his father, and although she attended state functions with him,
she didn’t linger around with the other nobles’ wives very often.

Elizabeth stepped back as Darius’s father approached. Darius
was excited about how well he had performed and eager to hear from his father
He bounced on the balls of his feet and for the first time he realized he now
stood taller than his father and almost as broad. Richard stepped up to Darius.
His father’s trimmed beard gave his face a grave look.

Darius held out the medal for him. “Isn’t it grand? Aren’t
you proud . . .”

“I don't know what you were thinking out on the field,
Darius.” Richard’s blue-gray eyes flashed with anger. “You almost lost the
competition for that kind of behavior. As you shot that last arrow the judges
were deciding whether to disqualify you. You were lucky you . . .”

“Didn't you hear what Sean San Ghant said?” interrupted
Darius, not ready for such treatment. “He insulted my friends. No, he did more
than that; he smears the good name of the Realm with how he treats others.”

“I don't care what he said. You are a noble’s son, Darius
San Williams. The son of a councilor. You are lucky I was here for you. I had
to do a lot of talking to the King to keep you from being disqualified. He
thought it might be good for you to lose. Teach you a lesson.”

“Well if that's all you care about, looking good to your
King, you take the medal. You won it for me.” Darius resented his father’s
one-sidedness. The nobility had lost touch with the people and only looked out
for themselves. That is not what he wanted. He wanted to feel proud as a
citizen of the Realm. He wanted to fight to defend something that meant more
than all of them. The power surged at his anger again. This time he didn’t hold
it back.

He ripped the medal from his neck and threw it towards him.
“You don't care about how I feel or why I do what I do. You don’t see the
injustices going on right in front of you. None of you do. Take the medal
yourself. Go show it to your nobles and congratulate yourselves for being so
mighty and just. Congratulations, you won the worst father award!”

It was one of those statements that as soon as Darius voiced
the words he wished he could take it back. It wasn't that he didn't think it
was true at the time, but he knew he shouldn't have said something so hurtful.
It was the power raging inside him that seemed to do the talking. It did stop
his father though, and Darius walked away without any more interaction.

Before turning outside of the field arena area, Darius
turned his head halfway around and saw his father still staring after the back
of his son. His mother stood in her silent role by his side. The earlier look
of disgust changed to hurt on his father’s face and Darius almost felt glad.
Almost. But deep inside he was more hurt than glad. It was his father. The man
who had taught him so much. The man he wanted to please. The man he didn’t like
much right now, but the father he loved and wanted to make proud someday.

He turned his head forward and resumed walking away with his
friends. 

A FATHER’S LAMENT

R
ichard San Williams,
councilor to the King, second most powerful man in the entire Realm, walked
away from the archery contest in the bright hot sunlight with his mind filled
with dark thoughts of sadness, disappointment, and hurt. He guessed he deserved
most of it. Richard didn’t even observe his wife, Elizabeth, turning towards
some other friends.

He walked in a random manner, with his head looking at his
dark boots pressing down on the summer grass. He wasn't sure where he was going
until he got there. Now he sat on a dusty old log covered in multiple shades of
green moss and fungus. The log had been in this empty field almost as long as
Richard could remember. Parts of it now crumbled and decayed, turning back once
again into the dirt it had once grown so proudly from. Yet, somehow, the
majority of the log always was there for him to sit on when he needed to think
things out.

The previous winter brought an abnormal amount of rain, and
with the usual summer storms, the brown and green grass in the field
surrounding the log had grown almost knee high. Even with the log hidden in the
tall grass, Richard found the spot easily enough. He took off his purple cape
and laid it across the log in front of him.

Sitting down, memories flooded back into his mind of when he
turned eighteen. Now almost twenty four years ago. He wondered where the time
had gone. He thought back over the years, through scattered thoughts until he
reached that long-ago day.

“But they tease us Father. It’s not fair,” Richard yelled
at his father. “Why don’t you do something with your life?”

Richard’s father, Alric Williams, winced. “Richard, I am happy
and have all I need. I have a fine profession. Being a bricklayer should be
good enough for you too.”

Richard laughed and laughed as his father’s face
reddened. “Good enough for me? Being like you is not good enough for me. You
possess no ambition to be better. You almost seem to be hiding from everyone.
Your family suffers for it and others treat us like the outsiders . . . like we
are worse than the farmers.”

“That’s enough,” his father roared.

“You’re right. This is enough. I can’t take this anymore.
I’m proud to be from Anikari and I am going to make something of myself,
starting today.”

“And what are you going to do?” his father asked.

“Anything, but stay in this house. I would have left long
ago if it hadn’t been for mother being so sick.” His mother had died a few
months before from a two-year sickness that had taken many in the city.

“We own a good house here.”

“We live slightly better than the poorest peasant at the
edge of the city. I want more, father. I want to live up there.” He pointed up
the hill towards the nobles’ district of Anikari. “Not at the edge of the
farmlands. It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” His father’s face reddened. “Then leave.”

He turned from his father and ran out the door.

He remembered running as hard as ever, finally stopping and
sitting down on a tree that had fallen in a violent summer storm the previous
month. Its wood was hard and held a deep, rich brown color back then.

This was where he found himself every time he had an
important decision. It was why he was here today. Sitting on this same tree in
the same field which somehow always remained for him to go to when he had
problems. All around him the city grew with settlers from Gildan and Arc as
well as the other cities inside the Realm. There were even a few families from
the eastern empires, most of whom had engaged in the trade of wood, skins, and
other products that were plentiful in the Realm. Explorers and others said the
eastern empires were barren lands of treeless deserts and salt-water lakes; not
many natural resources. But through it all, the field and the tree remained
untouched.

Almost twenty-four years ago Richard had left this field in
search of his young destiny. Through strange and unplanned events, while
traveling he had saved some of King Charles’ fields in Tean from thieves, and
had been rewarded a small sector of land in the city. He’d built homes out of
stone, not brick, and raised more money. Fifteen years ago he had been given a
position over trade in Anikari city government, and had earned his
San
title of nobility. Eight years ago he had been named as one of King Edwards’s
councilors, and now he was the senior councilor. He ranked the second most
important man in the kingdom in the directing of the affairs of the Realm. His
life was a far cry from the shabby way he had been raised.

Of course, he would never be king. One had to be of the
royal line for that. He would never realize the high noble title of
Dar
added to his name. That was only reserved for the royal family. However,
Richard had made something of himself on his own, and he was proud of what he
had done. It was enough to be a councilor in the great Realm, and more so to be
a senior councilor.

He knew Darius looked at things differently than he did. His
son did not hold a desire for nobility or riches or the finer things his life
could offer. That’s because he had grown up around the good life. Richard gave
his son everything that he hadn’t had growing up. Darius wasn’t familiar with
what being poor and disgraced was—how it made you feel inside. If he had grown
up the son of a poor bricklayer he may see things in a different view. Richard
found it so hard not to get angry with his son.

Richard kept hearing Darius’s sizzling comment as he had
left the archery contest. The words seemed to repeat themselves over and over
in his mind, like they held a life of their own, boring deep into his tired
muscles and bones. He breathed in the summer air to steady his heart. The
councilor recognized they had been moving away from each other the last few
years. They used to have good times together. What had happened?

“I have given him everything.” He stood up and began to talk
out loud to himself. “I give him a good home, food, schooling, money . . .
everything he could want to live in comfort. Nobody in the kingdom—even the
entire Realm—has the kind of training and education he has. He doesn't
understand how hard I work so he can enjoy what I didn't. He just doesn't
understand. And with all this he stills finds a way to embarrass himself and me,
by letting his anger get the best of him over some stupid outsider girl!”

Richard stomped a foot on the log. A decaying piece broke
off under his boot. He thought of all the things he had given Darius again and
wondered what else he had to offer. He didn't have time to give more. King
Edward kept him so busy, and it was his duty to serve the Realm.

What else does he want?

He slammed his foot down again in anger on the log, breaking
off a larger piece of the soft, decaying wood around the edges.

Then a voice came to him, almost bringing him to his knees.
“
Give him love and understanding!
”

Richard turned around, almost as if he expected someone to
be behind him. Of course there wasn't. The field was as empty and hollow as his
heart felt. Yet the voice continued speaking again. “
Give him real love.
”
He realized that somehow through the years he had forgotten how to give
love.

The sun had become warm during the competition and now beat
down onto his uncovered head. He pushed some of his brown hair out of his eyes
and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He had never been religious to any large
degree, though he knew his wife was. She had taught Darius God’s words and the
right way to act. Through the years he himself had drifted away from religion.
“Tell me what the answer is!” he bellowed.

Richard had never in fact taken the time before to think
much about love. He remembered meeting his wife, Elizabeth, at a city function.
She was the daughter of a rich city merchant. He had been infatuated with her
beauty and sense of loyalty. Richard had felt more alive around her and pursued
her from the first moment.

But his role now required so much from him. Maybe it was
time to turn his attention back to his family. Maybe it wasn’t too late. He
left the field and headed towards the castle with new determination.

He couldn't stay away too long. He never could. The King
would be waiting. The King was always waiting for something. He was a good king
and Richard had served him long. He would understand what Richard needed.
He
must understand!

* * * *

“Richard, where have you been?” asked King Edward as Richard
entered the large private study of the King. “There is important business to
wrap up with the trouble in Belor. Seems as if some fanatic is preaching that
the Belorians are the chosen people and we are their enemy. It’s rumored he has
used wizard powers.”

Richard nodded his head, only partially listening to the
King.

“Can you believe that?” King Edward continued. He absently
rubbed his light brown beard with his hand. “A wizard in the Realm again, like
in the days of the old kings. Like those who caused us so much trouble before.
They want, or he wants, independence. Don't they understand they would be lost
without us to protect them?”

The King stood up and stepped away from his red-velvet and
gold-covered chair, which sat behind his mahogany desk. He began to walk the
twenty or so steps toward Richard across the long marbled floor. This was his
private working chamber. His favorite paintings and tapestries adorned the walls
on the east side and a large polished-stone fireplace on the west side. The
white marble flooring had been brought across the blue sea from one of the
eastern empires by his great grandfather. The adjoining room was where the
people in the Realm brought petitions or other business for him; the throne
room. This room was where the actual work and decisions of the Realm occurred.

The King had not changed his royal clothes since the
competition, except to take off his purple cloak. His footsteps echoed throughout
the room as he walked toward Richard.

“There were some things on my mind, Your Highness.”

The King, showing little compassion, but curious over his
senior councilor’s depressed spirits, asked, “What is bothering you, Richard?”

“It’s my son. I’m afraid I have lost him.”

“What do you mean?” The King jumped with sudden interest.
“He didn’t go somewhere, did he?”

“No. No. We just don’t understand each other. He doesn't
even care to be around me anymore. It wasn’t always this way.”

“That's what boys do, Richard. He'll come around.” The King
looked relieved. “He will learn. He must!

“Oh yes. I will make sure of that, much to his dismay I am
sure.” Richard paused a moment as if he was thinking carefully about what to
say next. “But I need to spend more time with him and my wife.”

“Richard, you are invaluable to me. I need you here.”

“Edward, I have served you for many years. I do everything
you ask of me. My wife and son, I am sure, think horrible things of me because
I can’t tell them most of what I do for you. I haven’t told them I was staying
such late hours to help you on negotiations for peace or trade, or meeting
informants to stop rebellions and plottings. I have given you more than a
normal man would.”

“Richard, you are not a normal man.”

A look of confusion spread across Richards face. This was
not a normal reaction for his king. “What . . .”

The King cut him off with a flip of his hand and raised his
voice. “You are one of the few I trust to work with me. There has been quite a
bit of dissension in some of the other cities. I’ve tried to make these
uprisings seem not so serious. I don’t trust some of the lower councilors. They
would use these things against me to their advantage. They see me as weakening,
without having an heir to the throne.” King Edward’s voice rose in agitation
and he stopped in front of Richard. “I always know that you won’t ever betray
me. That is why I need to keep you here days at a time and through the nights
to work on important negotiations and assignments I trust to no one else. I
fear trouble on the border with Gildan is coming again soon, and now this
trouble in Belor. Do you betray me now?”

“Betray you? NO!” exclaimed Richard. “Never would I do that.
I just need to spend time with my family. I don't want to lose them. Is that so
wrong?”

“In another time, or with another person maybe, it might be
fine. You have no idea how important your family is to me, Richard. But I need
you. I am sure you don't want to lose everything I have given you or could give
to you, do you?”

Richard was becoming extremely confused about what the King
was saying. It didn't seem to make any sense. “I am not asking to leave, my
King, but only that some of the others handle some duties. There must be others
you can trust? Jonathon or Aaron?” His face reddened as he named the other
upper councilors to the King.

“Enough of this foolish talk. I don't know what you have
been thinking. My father took you as a poor runaway boy and gave you land to
make something of yourself. I have never stopped promoting you, until you stand
almost equal to me in the kingdom. I pave your way with gold, money, art,
prestige, learning, and power. I give your family everything any man in the
entire world would hope to have. You have more power and riches at your
disposal than many kings or emperors do. If you want less than that, then you
will get nothing. I need you at my disposal always. That is what is expected of
you as my senior councilor!”

“Edward!” exclaimed a bewildered Richard, wondering what had
gotten into his good friend. He realized his hands were shaking. “I have never
seen you like this. You have gone mad. I am not asking to leave you, but my
family . . .”