Tomli watched the light of the scepter reach up and cascade outward. He knew in his heart that word of his ascension to king was being poured over the land. But as he stood there, he felt alien inside Garinor’s body. Before he could contemplate it, the scepter shook in his hand and then shattered with a loud crash. The dust fell and all light vanished from the room.
The only thing that remained then was the prince, not far away, holding a torch in one hand and a dagger in the other. “Y—you!” the prince stammered. “But how? How could you be he?” He fell to his knees, tripping over his words. “There were to be three. Me. The heir. The scepter-wielder. But you, you hold the scepter. And yet, you are the heir. I—I don’t understand.”
With the power of the scepter gone, the dagger wound in Garinor’s—Tomli’s—shoulder was excruciating, but Tomli fought against it. The light of truth gave him strength. He was the king of the land and the usurper sitting in the dirt before him would not hold power any longer. Tomli stepped forward, looking for a way to disarm the prince without a major scuffle that would undoubtedly damage his shoulder further.
“You wouldn’t understand the will of the true king,” Tomli said cryptically, not sure he wanted to explain who he truly was. “Lay down your dagger and acknowledge me.”
He was shocked when the prince complied. “Your majesty,” he said. “But how could you touch the scepter and also be the heir?”
Tomli wasted no time claiming the dagger as his own, ignoring the prince’s question. “Rise now. We leave this place.”
He followed the prince out of the cavern, breathing through his open mouth so he wouldn’t groan in pain from the shoulder wound. The prince led the way with torch in hand and he made no move to get away or to deceive Tomli. It wasn’t long before they emerged and the five guards took the prince into custody after bowing in homage to their new king.
One of the guards made a makeshift bandage for Tomli’s shoulder, but it required more serious treatment, which Tomli planned to seek as soon as possible. The first course of action was to return to the Daggerfist camp, to relieve the guard of duty, and to instate the Daggerfists as the king’s protectors.
As he went, Tomli stumbled several times. The guards thought he struggled because of the shoulder wound and loss of blood, but Tomli knew better. He was trying to grow accustomed to the different feel of Garinor’s body. It was shorter and lankier than he was used to. His sight was different and even the way his thoughts raced about in his head confused him. He wondered how long it would take before he would adapt to his spirit’s new home.
They reached the camp to a mixed revue. The Daggerfists had taken control over the prince’s guard, who were tied to poles and kept under guard. But they had suffered great losses in the battle. Terrian, Garinor’s father, had perished in the fight that led to their liberty. As the details were recounted to Tomli, he felt a strange sensation nearby.
Something kept nipping at his ear. It felt like a persistent insect, but even a bug couldn’t attack the same exact spot with such precision. Tomli dismissed the woman who was filling him in on the battle and turned his attention to his burning ear.
He reached his good arm up and snagged his earlobe and tugged on it. Even when he held it firm the intermittent biting sensation struck him. It was uncomfortable and he feared that he would be stuck in Garinor’s body feeling such things for the rest of his life. But as he moved around he saw the campfire in his peripheral vision and there he saw something he didn’t expect to see.
There stood Garinor’s ghost.
The ethereal figure pointed to his own shoulder and then to Tomli. He then gestured to the west with a sense of urgency. The king understood immediately. He needed proper healing before he lost his arm or worse. Tomli summoned a few guards and it wasn’t long before they headed for the town of Kallinoria and a healer.
As time went on, Garinor’s spirit visited Tomli in his times of need, offering guidance or companionship. They developed a nonverbal method of communication, which worked well for them. Garinor could hear Tomli, but the same was not true in reverse. There were times when Garinor would line himself up with his own body and Tomli felt as if Garinor’s spirit could eject his own and reclaim his physical form. It only made him uncomfortable when Garinor inadvertently appeared in close proximity; he never actually intended to oust Tomli from his body.
Those closest to Garinor and Tomli took time to adjust to the dramatic change, but the rest of the country accepted Tomli without question. The resident king, Vehn, resigned the throne without debate and the prince was placed into lifetime servitude. Tomli never explained the spiritual switch that had taken place and because the surety of the prince’s knowledge had been so shaken, he never fully recovered from the shock of it. His vile ways ended and he served meekly forever after.
Tomli’s reign was kind and just. Garinor’s loving sacrifice had boded well for the destiny of the king. The land prospered and the people were content with their lot. They tolerated necessary changes that made life more difficult and they rejoiced when levies were eased.
Garinor’s spirit stayed with Tomli for years into his reign. It was only when Tomli found himself a suitable wife and he was raising four children that Garinor discovered his counsel was no longer needed. He didn’t mind. He had served his best friend and king in the best possible way. He had brought about the downfall of a vicious prince and an aloof king, and he had given the power over to a man of noble heart.
And, of course, all of Tomli’s children looked a lot like Garinor.
Garinor’s destiny could hardly have been any better than that.
You have come to the end of Garinor’s adventure, but there are other paths to explore. Start over and guide Garinor again along his journey.
The End…