The Path Of Destiny Page 5

  He turned to Darius. “I guess your farmer girl will be a little disappointed in you today.”

  Darius couldn't believe Sean was doing this here, in front of the entire tournament crowd. In addition to Sean’s antics, the throbbing and pain in his hand added to his frustration. He could feel the power pushing at him again, responding to his emotions. Sean had been doing this to him since they were young. Usually he let it roll off his back, and did not let it bother him, but he gritted his teeth to hold in the growing rage.

  “Sean, just get out of the way,” Darius yelled at him, trying to keep his temper in check.

  “Oh, the boy is hurt,” Sean taunted. “Maybe his little farmer friend can rub some mud on it.”

  The next moment happened before anyone could think. Without thinking, Darius leaped out and ran toward Sean. He tackled him to the ground, and despite his sore hand punched him hard in the ribs. The officials dragged Darius off of Sean and sent him back towards the line. By this time Christine, Jain, and Emily came down closer to the sidelines.

  “Jain . . . No. It’s not your fight,” Darius heard Christine yell. She was doing all she could to hold Jain back from beating up Sean himself.

  “Yes it is. He insults all of us with what he says,” Jain answered back, but he remained off the field with hands clenched.

  Darius’s father and mother moved closer to him, but stopped a dozen yards away. No one knew what to do. The judges grouped together and conferred with each other and then the King. Darius saw his father march with long strides toward King Edward.

  Darius continued walking back towards the shooting line, his face red and his breathing hard. He was ashamed at how his temper had controlled him. He needed to do better. What if he had let his power show?

  “Darius, you are a disgrace and a coward. Maybe you belong in the farmlands with those outsiders.” Sean stood up and pointed towards the sidelines. “I win the competition.”

  Darius, whose back was still to Sean’s, tensed up and stiffened. His nostrils flared as his face turned an even darker shade of red. Back at the line, he reached down and picked up his bow. With his hand swollen and in pain, he turned to face Sean, strung his arrow, and pulled the string taut. Power filled his body and it needed a release. It was glorious to feel so much power and clarity at one time.

  Sean, who still stood in the middle of the field between Darius and the target, just opened his mouth in surprise. Darius held the bow steady, the string pulled back, and aimed right at Sean's head.

  The strange power he now possessed coursed through his veins. It heightened his senses. All at once he could hear and see everything going on around him. He heard undertones of his father apologizing to the King. He heard Jain mutter to Christine that he hoped Darius would shoot Sean. He heard Kelln, in a small and barely audible whisper that was for his ears only, plead with Darius to stay calm and remember that Sean was nothing to them. The mutter of his friend reached him and he took a deep breath and settled into an icy calm.

  Whispers ran through the crowd. Everyone waited to see what Darius would do. His face filled with anger, then turned to determination as a slight white glow appeared around his bow. He prevailed and overcame his anger and a slight smile curved his lips. The bow returned to normal and he hoped that no one had noticed and would put it off to a trick of afternoon light.

  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.

  Chapter Four

  A FATHER’S LAMENT

  Richard 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!”