The Path of Decisions Page 3

  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?

  The next day, Kelln crossed the river. He had taken most of the morning to find the narrowest stretch of river and gather some large rocks, which he threw in the water to make a place to step. Gathering some long branches, he tied them together with some roots to help him cross the rocks to the other side of the swift-moving water. Once over, he continued walking along the opposite bank of the river.

  The thousand-year-old evergreens, each the circumference of many men, were dense and blocked most of the sunlight overhead. The modest light that did make it all the way to the ground gave little light to brushes and grasses, leaving the forest floor mostly bare and easy to walk through. By now, Kelln thought, he must be north of the Gildan Swamp and would be safe to head north towards Anikari.

  He camped again that night, finding a small grove that let in the moonlight. Sometime during the night, a southeastern wind howling through the trees woke him. The wind seemed to be speaking a language of its own, warning Kelln of an upcoming dangerous storm. The moisture began to thicken the air and the temperature plummeted. Storms from the Eastern Sea could travel fast across the meadows. The starlit sky seemed to disappear as dark fog moved in.

  Kelln got up and tried to look around for some type of shelter. He gathered up his belongings and moved quickly. As he stood behind one of the larger trees he noticed a small mound of leaf-covered dirt a few yards in front of him. Something came to his mind from a book he had read years ago. Men in the Black Forest used to dig small holes to hide in. The mound he saw didn’t look natural, and hope soared to his mind. He got down on all fours and started digging with his hands. The dirt was soft and moved easily.

  He was still digging when the first drops of spring rain began to pelt his back. He would need to find shelter soon. He turned back toward the trees in abandonment of his search only to catch his foot on something. He fell to the ground and wet dirt splattered his clothes. He rolled over to see what he had tripped on. It was a large root.

  He brought himself up off the ground and pulled on the root to see where it would lead. The movement seemed to sift away a small portion of dirt a few feet away from him.

  The rain began to soak through him now as he dug around the spot with his fingers. A small hole opened up and gave him additional determination to dig. The dirt turned into mud as the brunt of the storm reached him. Cold, wet rain soaked him within minutes. He tried not to shiver, but he couldn’t stop.

  Finally, he hit a large slab of rock. With muddy hands he pried the stone up with a nearby moss-covered branch. A dark hole opened in the ground before him. He grabbed his pack and jumped into the darkness. He fell through empty blackness, dropping onto dry, hard ground below. The slab of rock had fallen back down over part of the hole, but rain cascaded down through the open portion. He used the stick he had brought down with him to reach up and push the stone back over to cover the opening.

  Kelln sat down, breathing hard and listening to the muffled clatter of the ferocious storm beating on the ground above. His face dripped with a mixture of sweat and rain. He wiped his face off with his hand. His muscles ached and his body felt weak, but it was dry in the small cave. As he laid his head on his pack to rest for a few minutes, the faint echoes of the storm above receded from his conscious mind.

  Chapter 4

  A NEW PERSPECTIVE

  An unexpected sound, like footsteps, jolted Kelln awake. He sat up and tried to orient himself in the darkness of the cave. Instinctively he reached to his side for his sword, only to remember that Alessandra had only given him a small knife.

  “Hello, my friend,” a voice echoed in the cavernous hole.

  Kelln jumped and crashed into the wall of the cave. He brought his knife out in front of him. “Who are you?”

  An odd and wild laugh sounded close by him.

  “Who?... What are you... doing here?” Kelln said as he backed away from the sound, knowing he didn’t have much room if he needed to fight.

  Without warning a bright flame flared up in front of him. His eyes, accustomed to the darkness, blinked in rapid response. In front of him stood a wild-looking older man, his gray hair and beard uncombed and disheveled. The old man limped toward him. His hands were gnarled and his clothes torn. Kelln tried to think through his options.

  In the palm of one of the old man’s hands appeared a small ball of light, not unlike the one Darius had produced in the library basement a year before.

  “Don't worry. I won't hurt you.” The old man moved closer. Kelln began to smell the man's woodsy breath. It was then he noticed the man’s eyes. A solid milky color. Kelln let his breath out in a deep rush. The man was blind. That was all. Nothing to be afraid of.

  “How did you get in here?” he finally got the nerve to ask.

  “How did I get in here?” repeated the old man. “I should be asking you that question, my young one. This is the back of my home. I was trying to rest when I began to hear a lot of racket going on.”

  “You live here? Out in the forest? But, you can’t see!”

  The man laughed a loud crackle. “The eyes are only one way to see.”

  Kelln was definitely confused. The man in front of him was crazy!

  The man stepped close enough for Kelln to smell his breath. “You thought striking your flint to steel would be the only way to light a fire?”

  “I guess so.” Kelln answered, not k
nowing what else to say.

  “Then how do you explain this?” The man waved his hand around the ball of light. “There are many ways to accomplish the same task.”

  “So you are a wizard?” Kelln surmised.

  “That’s a title people give those who do things in a different way than they understand. I’m no different from you. We both see— you with your eyes, I with an inner power. We both make fire— you with a flint, I with the wave of my hand.” The old man stopped and smiled. His wrinkled face looked friendlier now. “But here I am lecturing you when you probably want to get warm and dry. Come with me, and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

  The old man motioned Kelln forward. Kelln picked up his pack and stuck his knife back in his belt. They walked for a minute through a few turns in a small tunnel.

  “You can really see without your eyes down here?” Kelln asked.

  “When I am using the power I can sense auras and physical objects around me. It suits me just fine down here.”

  “I didn't expect anyone.”

  “No, I guess you didn't.” The old man laughed again.

  “Sorry about the eyes.” Kelln felt like he had to say something although it sounded foolish.

  “I don't need to see now. I have seen enough in my lifetime. All there is to watch now is wickedness and foolishness.”

  They came to an open door in the rock and entered into a small furnished cave. The old man motioned Kelln to sit down on a small wooden chair. Before doing so, Kelln remembered his manners.

  “My name is Kelln. I was looking for a way to keep dry in the storm.”

  “You were lucky to find this place. The storm sounded like a serious one.”

  “What is your name, sir?”

  “My name is Alastair.” The man turned to start fixing a warm meal for them.

  Kelln looked around the remarkable room. A small stove made of rocks blackened by use sat as the centerpiece of the crowded room. A metal flue rose above it into the rocks. A few shelves stood against one wall next to a table made from fallen trees and branches. A lone sword stood against the opposite wall. Straight ahead, Kelln spotted a stack of books with loose papers crammed between the pages. Kelln wondered what a blind man did with books. Yet another corner held a few skins bundled together to sleep on.

  “How long have you been here?” asked Kelln.

  “It's hard to tell.” The old man seemed to be thinking. “Spring is coming once again, so I would say about five years.”

  “That’s fantastic.” Kelln could get into an adventure like this. Living in a cave in the woods could be fun for a while, though he would need someone around to talk to, he guessed. When Kelln asked about the books, the old man shrugged and said he hadn't always been blind. He didn’t seem to want to discuss anything more on the subject, so Kelln dropped it.

  The old man finished preparing a meal of fried vegetables. Kelln was hungrier than he had first thought. They ate in silence, with Kelln wondering how Alastair survived out here in the forest all alone.

  After finishing the meal Kelln titled his head back and enjoyed the final lingering flavor of the meal. “Where do you get your food from?”

  Alastair stood and began rinsing the plates in a bowl of water. “I have a few friends in Belor that bring me items now and again.”

  Kelln stood up and helped Alastair finish cleaning then returned back to the two chairs in front of the rock stove.

  “Tell me what troubles bring you here, young friend.”

  “How do you know I have troubles?” Kelln asked with defensive suspicion.

  Alastair smiled. “Not too many people travel the Black Forest alone in the middle of a storm.”

  Kelln smiled back and relaxed. Why should he be suspicious of this old man? He thought about the flame and wondered how much power the man actually had. He started by telling Alastair he had come from Anikari but had lived in Belor for the past nine months, three of them in prison. The old man sat with patience and listened to Kelln's long story. He didn't ask any questions or offer any comment. Kelln thought he saw a sadness settle into the old man's face.

  Kelln told Alastair about the Preacher and his teachings. He related his capture, imprisonment, torture, and recent escape. All the while Alastair sat with hands clasped and head down. When Kelln finished, the old man looked up, and Kelln glimpsed tears in his eyes.

  “Would you like to hear the beginning of the story?” asked Alastair.

  Kelln was a little confused, “What story?”

  “Of the Preacher.”

  “You know of the Preacher?”

  “Only too well,” Alastair sighed, then began. “Years ago, Belor had grown into a beautiful city with wonderful people. They worked hard and trusted one another. It was a jewel of the Realm; people came from all over to vacation there, to be close to the sea. Belorians had peace with the rest of the Realm and were secure. One day, about fifteen years ago, a man came into Belor. He brought with him darkness and anger. He stirred the people up against one another. He prospered on prejudice and pride. His name I cannot even say. I only call him The Dark One. He had foreign magic and used it for his gain and evil purposes. For five years this man ruled the underground in Belor. He influenced many important men, spiritually, economically, and politically. Families were ruined, and Belor became corrupt.”

  Kelln opened his mouth to ask a question, but the old man held his bony hand up in the air to stop him.

  “Let me tell the whole story, young man. Then you may ask questions. One man stood up to this dark one. One man felt a spiritual enlightenment and taught that God would protect the righteous from outside evil influences. He was a mighty man who had a lot of influence, especially over the older people in Belor; he had taught them for years. He, too, had the old magic in him. He wasn’t necessarily strong in its use, but he used the power for healing and help. Many joined with him to fight against The Dark One and his evil. They fought not with weapons, but with words. They did not want to increase the violence.”

  Kelln shifted in his seat as Alastair paused to put some more wood on the stove. It was dry and started popping and snapping. Kelln’s clothes began drying out with the increased heat.

  “This man had a son who also had a beautiful daughter. The wise man sent his son to Mar and then across the sea to be taught by the wise ones in the eastern kingdoms. He hoped his son would one day return with the knowledge and strength that would help to save the city and carry on in peace after the old man died. For five years the man, with less and less support, fought against the growing evil, waiting for his son to return.

  “His son returned with fire and determination to set right that which had gone wrong in Belor. He had pride in Belor and taught this to the people. He was tall, powerful, and charismatic. Many people began to follow him, and with the help of his father, they began to turn the tide of evil. But The Dark One held strong power over many of the city’s organizations. The father thought that as the people returned to righteousness and peace, this man of evil would lose his power and leave. His son, however, became preoccupied with The Dark One and vowed to destroy him himself. This son forgot all other things in his quest against this evil one.

  “One day the son came to his father with a gleam in his eye and told him The Dark One would bother them no more. Hours later a servant found The Dark One dead in his bed, a pure-silver knife stabbed through his heart. The son took personal pride in the killing. His father, of course, was saddened. His son, his joy and the hope of the people, had committed a grievous sin.”

  “But he had rid the world of an evil man.” Interrupted Kelln for the first time in the long telling.

  “Yes, but at what price? No matter how evil the man was, it is not our decision to take his life in cold blood. The son continued his preaching against evil, the people joined him, and the city began to prosper once again. However, as prosperity increased, the son took more and more power upon himself. He began preaching against everyone who had influence with B
elor but was not Belorian.”

  “The Preacher,” whispered Kelln.

  “Yes, he became known as the Preacher, a mockery of what he claimed to be. He became even worse than The Dark One in many ways. The Dark One taught evil as evil. The Preacher taught evil but disguised it as good. His pride knew no limits, and he claimed Belorians were God’s own people and needed to rid themselves of all but the true Belorian blood. People from other cities and backgrounds began to disappear. The Preacher forgot the original teachings of his father, of peace and love, the things God stands for… the things of human decency.”

  “What happened to his father?” Kelln interrupted.

  Alastair paused. “He tried to reason with his son. He tried to turn his heart around, but the son wouldn't listen. The Preacher and his father fought. Their argument turned from words to magic. You see, the Preacher had become obsessed with the magic The Dark One possessed and had begun to study it himself. He couldn’t control it yet, and in the midst of their fight he lashed out in anger against his father and struck him down, hurting him terribly.”

  Tears rolled down the old man’s wrinkled face and Kelln was sorry to have opened up old wounds. He knew all too well the length the Preacher would go to keep his power and control the people. Absently he rubbed his forehead with his hand, pushing back the memories of when the Preacher had invaded his mind and stolen his thoughts.

  After a few deep breaths Alastair continued. “The Preacher’s father was weak in the power and couldn’t fight back. Some friends of the father begged the Preacher to let him live. So, instead of killing him, the son banished his father from Belor and exiled him with a promise that he would not go to any other cities of the Realm but live as a vagabond for the rest of his life.”

  “Where did he go?” asked Kelln. “Is he still alive?”

  Alastair stood, turned and wiped his eyes, then faced Kelln again. “Oh, yes, he is still very much alive, though many days he wonders if it would have been better to die. He now lives in a small cave in the Black Forest.”