The Path Of Destiny (4 page)

The crowd cheered. The Realm always loved their kings and
queens. King Edward was no exception. However, some of the outlying cities were
more subdued in their cheers. Tensions had been rising lately among some of the
other cities in regards to taxation and fear of approach by some neighboring
kingdoms. King Edward was in his early forties and still held the sturdy frame
of his athletic youth. A crown sat atop his brown hair. Almost ten years
earlier, the King’s wife and only daughter had died during a spreading outbreak
of a plague. For some reason not known to the general public the King had never
remarried, and thus there was currently no heir to follow him.

Darius glanced at his father. Always right next to the King,
making himself available for his every wish. As soon as he saw him, Darius’s
stomach knotted in anticipation. He remembered that they hadn't spoken much
that week. He had wanted to discuss with his father the trouble with the
farmlands, but hadn’t found a chance. His father just seemed too busy to care
about him anymore

The King seated himself and the crowd sat back down again.
The competition was ready to begin. Darius took a deep breath. He couldn’t
afford to become angry today. He had to control the anger that seemed to come
with his new powers.

“This is fantastic, isn't it?” smiled Kelln. “I can hardly
wait for my turn.”

As the younger group went, Kelln shifted from the right to
left foot and back again in anticipation.

“Well I go first, so all you have to do is aim for the big
hole in the middle of the target that will be there after I go,” laughed
Darius, glad his best friend was there. Without any other siblings, Darius
considered Kelln almost family to him. He would do anything for his best
friend.

After the younger students went, Darius and Kelln’s age
bracket began. Darius heard his name called and walked up to the line. Over the
crowd he distinctly heard Christine's voice cheering him on. He smiled inside.
He breathed in deeply, called up the calmness, and relaxed.

As he lifted the bow up, nocked his arrow, and pulled the
string back, he made everything else disappear from his mind. He focused on the
small black dot in the middle of the target, as he had been taught to do so
long ago. His father had given him his first bow when he was five years old.
He’d always had the special ability to put everything from his mind. Almost as
if he were pulling the target to him. Now he wondered if all along it had
something to do with the strange power he now held.

In fact, his father teaching him to shoot was one of the
best memories of his childhood. Perhaps today his father would receive some
satisfaction and inward reward if Darius did well. He desperately hoped so.
Darius drew upon the power within him and the target came into focus more
easily than ever before.

Concentrate! Focus!
He realized now that his ability
with archery had always been augmented by his power, even before he had known
he had it.

He let the string and arrow leave his fingers. The arrow
jumped out as a wildcat springing on his prey. He heard the crowd cheer before
he was sure of the results himself. The arrow stuck dead center. The second one
a little off to the side from the first. The third arrow held deep, dead center
in the target, scraping against his first arrow.

He had one more turn. The best three out of four arrows
would count. If he shot another bullseye, his worst one would drop out and he
would have a perfect score. Not a common occurrence.

Darius pulled back on his bowstring, but as he started to
let the arrow go he felt and heard a loud crack. He jumped, yelled, and grabbed
his hand. The arrow shot into the ground about five feet in front of him.

He heard a few laughs, but mostly condolences rose from the
crowd and other competitors. Darius had broken his bow, and the string had
struck hard into his hand, making an instant welt. An official came over to
assess the situation. Darius sat down on a bench and hung his head low. He
wondered how his bow could have broken.

He sensed someone looking at him. From down the row of
competitors he eyed Sean’s toothy, over-confident smile. Darius picked up his
bow with his good hand and breathed in deeply. Images flashed across his mind.
The break seemed unnatural to him. He made an educated guess on what had
happened: Sean had sabotaged his bow. But there was no proof.

Even though Darius’s last arrow would be the one not
counted, he still was expected to win his age bracket. There were four more
boys to go, Kelln being one of them. The problem, it seemed, was that Darius
had no bow now for the finals. There was a long-standing rule that no bows
could be lent to another competitor. A long time ago there had been problems
with loaning good bows around to friends. Some boys complained of the ruling
being unfair.

Darius sat, gazing down at nothing in particular while the
officials tried to continue. He tried not to think of Sean. He tried to keep
his anger in check. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself here. He calmed
himself. A few moments later a pair of shiny brown boots appeared in front of
him. He brought his eyes up.

“Here,” was all Kelln said. A sad smile lingered on his
freckled face.

Darius realized what Kelln was trying to do. “No, Kel. I
can't take your bow. Don't you know the rules?”

“I asked, and since I haven't gone yet, I can give you
mine,” he said with a genuine smile.

“But that means you can't go. I can't . . . I can't . . .”
said Darius, pushing the bow back.

“No, Darius. You have a chance to win. I want you to have
it!” He thrust the bow into Darius’s hands.

The two young men were unaware that the entire tournament
had stopped to watch the interchange until they heard the crowd cheer. Darius
was moved. He knew how excited Kelln had been and how hard he had worked for
his first archery tournament. He pushed it away from himself, back into Kelln’s
hands, but Kelln was adamant and wouldn’t take it back.

“Thanks, Kelln. You're the best!” said Darius as he stood up
and shook Kelln’s hand with his good hand. A lump formed in his throat and he
wiped his eyes from something the wind had blown in.

“Now you’d better win, after all of this commotion,” Kelln
laughed as he motioned towards the crowd. Turning, he whispered, “Don’t you
dare let Sean win.”

“Oh don’t worry about him,” Darius said with a twinkle in
his eye.

“Darius?”

Darius laughed. “Don’t worry.”

Darius stood, holding a cool wet cloth on his hurt hand as
the competition resumed. He wasn't worried about using Kelln's bow. In fact, he
had used the bow many times practicing together. He felt terrible about Kelln
not being able to be in the competition after all of his practicing and
promised himself that he would win for both of them.

I won’t let him down.

The announcement soon came naming Darius one of the
finalists. Christine waved at him, and her brother and sister shouted with
enthusiasm. He also heard the crowd applauding the finalist from the older age
group. He missed the name, but watched Sean step out onto the field and take a
bow.

I'm just going to have to put him in his place.

Sean had placed second in the competition the previous year.
Even though Darius had won his age bracket, an older boy had won the entire
competition that year. The prior year should have been Sean’s last, but because
he was still under twenty he was allowed to either compete in this one or the
nobles’ tournament. Darius knew Sean decided to hang back a year at this
competition to feed his ego and try to win.

Sean stepped up to the line and stretched his muscled arms,
puffing his chest up as he did. The pompous frills of his lace shirt moved in
the slight breeze. Many of the younger girls thought Sean was an idol of
perfection, and Darius heard a chorus of sighs from the crowd. Most of the
adults thought the young noble a little extreme, but they tolerated him for his
charm.

Sean shot his first arrow. It sailed through the air with
only a slight quiver and barely missed the bullseye, but it was still an
incredible shot. Darius thought he noticed disgust run across Sean's face, and
he relaxed a little. Sean’s next two were flawless, even touching each other in
the center of the bullseye. Darius started getting nervous again.

Darius tried not to watch the fourth arrow, but couldn't
help himself. He blew out a mouthful of air after Sean’s arrow hit the target.
He hadn't realized he was holding his breath for so long. It was a good shot,
but not perfect. Darius still had a chance to beat him, if he placed three
arrows in the exact center of the target.

Sean trotted down to the target to retrieve his arrows as he
soaked in the crowd’s applause. Darius went to the line to prepare for his
shots. Sean stood on the side with a bored stance as if he had already won the
tournament. He motioned for a young page to bring him some ale.

His power pulsed inside him and anger started to overtake
Darius, but he cooled down and found the void in his mind to concentrate on the
target. He put everything else out of his mind, drew the target to him, and
shot. The crowd erupted. The shot flew perfectly. Without breaking his
concentration, he strung and shot the second arrow. Again, perfect, even
touching the first one.

Sean shifted from one leg to the other in nervous
anticipation. Darius smiled to himself. He still had two more shots to beat
Sean's arrows. All he needed was one more in the center. He proceeded in a slow
and deliberate way just to keep the suspense a little while longer. He glanced
at Christine in the field, his father next to the King, his mother in the front
of the stands, and back at Kelln a few yards behind him. Kelln smiled and gave
him a slight nod of his head. Darius found himself enjoying the moment.

My father will
be proud of me if I win today!

His hand throbbed from the welt. Still he had to
concentrate. It was not over yet. He pulled the string. It rubbed his hand the
wrong way, and he let go before he pulled back all the way on the string. The
arrow wobbled out at half speed and fell to the ground about half way to the
target.

“Ow,” Darius winced and held his hand in pain. The crowd
held their breath.

Sean walked out to pick up Darius’s arrow, which stuck into
the medium-length green summer rye grass.

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.