Garinor and Tomli remained inside the tent as the prince rode into camp with all alarm. A contingent of men strode up with him, but the boys couldn’t see them while hiding in the tent. The thundering feet were announcement enough that the prince had come in force.
Garinor thought about his father’s plans for a time. He had come into the camp the night before and preparations had been made for the prince’s visit, but his own time in the camp had not revealed those preparations to him. He wondered what subterfuge was planned. The prince called out to speak with the leader and Terrian played his part to perfection.
“Good afternoon, your highness. May I fetch some wine for you to quench your thirst from your journey?” His voice was perfectly controlled, and if he hadn’t known beforehand, Garinor would have thought he was a close personal servant to the prince.
“We may dispense with the pleasantries this day,” the prince commented. “I come for a reason.”
“Very well then. What brings you to my camp, your highness?”
“A boy was taken to this camp last night. I wish for you to bring him to me.”
“I see,” Terrian said in a low tone. “Has he harmed your majesty in some way?”
“I don’t see where it is your concern.” The prince snapped his fingers and Garinor heard the simultaneous roar of swords being unsheathed by a group of men.
“Are you threatening me in my own camp, your highness?”
“Your camp is my camp,” said the prince, “as are all the lands around.”
“And here I thought we still had a king,” Terrian mused.
“Be wary of your tongue, and forget not to whom you speak. Now produce the boy or surrender all to me.”
“Those options are one and the same, for if I turn over my camp, then you will have the one you seek. No, I cannot make such a bargain.”
The prince gave the signal to attack and the prince’s men rushed into the camp, seeking out the Daggerfists to capture and subdue them. Garinor and Tomli couldn’t see from their vantage point, but the sounds of battle raged in earnest all around them. They backed away from the tent flap in case a falling soldier came their way, but the scuffle outside didn’t last long.
There was a loud cry among the prince’s men. Curious, Garinor peered through the tent flap and saw that the entire camp was quiet and that the prince’s men had surrendered. Terrian called the boys out.
The first thing Garinor saw as he left the tent was a series of nets all along the ground. Some of them had been dug under the ground and covered with a layer of dirt and others had been launched into the fray from archers poised up in the trees. Part of Terrian’s ruse had been to sequester all the prince’s men together in a line and then a tripwire was snapped up, bringing up the buried nets, which had caused the first surge of panic, and then the raining nets from above had ignited the prince’s rage.
Garinor strode proudly toward the angered son of the monarch. The prince stood nearby as two Daggerfists restrained him. “You were looking for me, sire?”
Recognition lit the prince’s face and washed away some of his ire. “Yes, it is you who has eluded me all this time. It was even foreseen and it is your face that was given to me to find.” He jerked his chin toward his breast pocket and there a guard retrieved a neatly folded piece of parchment upon which was a rough sketch of Garinor.
Terrian laughed when he saw it. “It seems Sketch outdid himself with this one. I had wondered how close a resemblance it would be.”
The prince’s face lit red again. “You would mock me?”
Garinor stepped forward. “You’ve gone about this prophecy all wrong, your highness. But now it’s time to end it.” He considered revealing that Tomli was the heir but something inside made him withhold that information.
“You think I would take you to the scepter then?”
“We must go and put an end to all the wrongs.”
Tomli stepped forward, “Garinor…”
“Not now, Tomli. The prince has been after me for some time so we should go now and face the truth.” He looked at the prince in earnest. “Don’t you agree that the time is upon us?”
He opened his mouth to speak but then frowned. “Indeed. But just because you have me at your mercy doesn’t mean that you will rule this land.”
Garinor tried hard not to smile. “That is true. But we’ll see.” He then turned to his father. “Let us have a group who can escort us to the scepter, and we’ll take his highness as well.”
Terrian grinned, for he understood the irony of those words. “So be it.” He waved his hand and five of his fighters stepped forward.
The prince lifted his chin. “I will not be treated as your prisoner. I am your prince.”
Garinor realized that he needed to play this correctly for Tomli’s sake. “Very well,” he decided. “You will come and bring two of your men, but no weapons. We will show good faith. In the end, the scepter will decide it all anyway.”
Tomli stepped up and said, “I’m coming, too. I want to know where this is headed.”
Garinor turned and warned him against it. “It could be dangerous.”
“If you go, then I choose to go with you.”
“Marvelous,” the prince sneered. “Give him a sword and he can act as the captain of your guard.”
“Great idea,” Garinor offered, then turned to Terrian again. “Have you another sword for this brave knight?”
They left the camp, heading for the northeastern cave. Terrian remained behind to ensure that the camp would be secure for their return. The prince walked with purpose at the front of the group as if everything was under his control. His two guards trailed behind him, followed by Garinor and Tomli, and the Daggerfists encircled them all.
It took nearly two hours before they reached the entrance to the cavern. It was located at the base of one of the mountains and the dark shadows inside were not inviting. Garinor noticed, however, that there was a basket with torches and flint and steel, and he knew then that this cave was not entirely deserted.
One of the Daggerfists and one of the prince’s men joined the three players of destiny as they walked into the rocky cavern. The floor crept upward as they went and the air grew steadily colder. It was a strange, thick coldness that made the air hard to breathe in, and it wasn’t long before Garinor was shivering.
Along the way they also dodged the numerous stalactites that clung to the ceiling. They were randomly scattered and Garinor was grateful for the torches held by the guards, for otherwise he would have cracked his head against them frequently. Yet as they went deeper and deeper up the path, the light of the torches grew more faint. When he looked over his shoulder, Garinor could see that the two flames were still brightly lit, but their glow was stifled and couldn’t shine outward.
At last, the darkness became impenetrable and they were all completely blind. Tomli stumbled and gasped as he fell to the ground and Garinor took a few hurried steps until a room burst into view with a strange gray mist, and there he saw a distressing scene.
The prince, who had clearly been to the strange place before, used the darkness to his advantage, stealing Tomli’s sword and turning it against him. The two guards pushed their way into the chamber, saw the turn of events, and hesitated. The prince’s man looked ready to throw his torch at the other guard, but a glance from the prince stayed his hand. Instead, he set his torch in a sconce on the wall.
With a hideous laugh, the prince looked at Garinor, tightening his grip on the sword he held against Tomli. “Well, now, this is interesting, isn’t it?” His voice sounded strangely distant in the gray light, as if he were speaking from behind a mask. “Us, here, facing the scepter.” He gestured with his hand.
It was then that Garinor looked around the room and truly saw it. The chamber was completely round, with a domed ceiling. The rock walls were highly polished and Garinor knew intuitively that no natural force could have carved out such a place. There must have been some ancient, forgotten magic that had set the walls so perfectly. He glanced toward the center of the room, but it was the floor that caught his attention next. Littered in a wide, sweeping circle was a company of skeletons, all with arms reaching forward to the center of the room, where stood a stone pedestal. The pedestal was carved with runes all along the edges, and it was there, rising up from the center, that Garinor saw the scepter that he was destined to claim.
“So here we are at last, your highness,” the prince jeered. “The moment of destiny. It is here that we were meant to come and it is here that our futures will be determined. All that remains now is for you to claim the scepter and to let it do its work.”
“No!” said Tomli, struggling fruitlessly against the prince.
“Cease, boy, or this sword will be your destiny.”
Garinor turned to the prince. “From what I know, there are three players to this prophecy. You, obviously. The heir, and a third, who is to take the scepter.”
The prince’s smile vanished. “And so comes the next of my… advice.” The prince looked at his guardsman who had no sword but was ready to square off against the Daggerfist who still carried his torch. To Garinor the prince said, “You will choose my companion here to take the scepter and he will choose me to rule. Or your friend here meets his destiny tonight.”
“You will not hurt my friend,” Garinor declared sternly. “Nor will I let you rule.”
“Your options are limited,” this prince noted.
Garinor looked toward the scepter and paced toward it. “I could claim the scepter myself.”
The prince’s eyes flashed. “But that would violate the prophecy. See there, on the ground, the remains of all the others who have tried?”
Garinor turned. “Then you admit you’ve come to this place before and set others to this task, only to watch them die.” He turned to the Daggerfist with the torch. “Remember these words, for they will matter.” Though Garinor was fairly confident that he would be able to safely claim the scepter, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he decided to play his part further, thinking of all the times in his life that Tomli had protected him.
“I will take the scepter,” Garinor said, walking toward the pedestal, “and the prophecy will fail. You will not be given rule.”
“But you will die,” the prince hissed and with the muffled quality of the air, Garinor could barely hear it. “And the rules of succession will make me the king.”
“Garinor, don’t!” Tomli called out. “What if—?”
The prince kicked his feet into Tomli’s back. “That is your last warning to be still. He would be an utter fool to take that scepter now.”
Garinor chose to be that fool. He approached the pedestal and, keeping his determination firm, turned toward his friend and reached out to grab the scepter.
As his hand touched the iron artifact, his entire focus was drawn toward it. In the gray light of the room he could see three iron rods that were twisted together, making the main shaft, and upon the iron was carved innumerable runes. The top of the scepter was crested with a crystal dome that echoed the shape of the ceiling. As he peered into the crystal, Garinor noticed countless gemstones all set in an inner curved wall, and through the refracted light of the crystal they all looked priceless. He caught glimpses of amethysts, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and several others. They twinkled with inner power and Garinor realized that it was the combination of them all that lit the room with the heavy gray light.
While he stared, the rubies, emeralds, and sapphires lit more brightly than the others. He watched as the verdant light seeped toward him and coated his being in a dense warmth. The scarlet glow floated across the room and wrapped around the prince’s poised form, and then the azure light settled upon Tomli, still on the ground at the prince’s mercy. Yet as Garinor looked upon them he noticed that they weren’t moving, as if time had stopped for them, but not for him.
“Chosen One,” called an ethereal Voice. He looked around, but saw no source. The sound reverberated off the walls and echoed from every direction. He couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but when he heard more, he thought it sounded more like a chorus of angels all speaking to him in unison. “You have reached the scepter of destiny and it is now that you must make a Choice.”
“Yes, I—”
“Be not hasty,” the Voice interrupted. “For, the light of destiny is not a gift freely given. A price is to be paid.”
Garinor’s heart sank with these words. “Hasn’t my journey seen enough? Haven’t I strived to reach this place? What else is there to do?”
“The light of destiny requires a soul to empower it. As the one Chosen by the true heir, it is your Choice to make. Only one of those destined by the prophecy may be selected.”
Crestfallen, Garinor’s shoulders sank. He would have dropped to the ground but the power of the scepter held him upright. “So you’re saying I must decide which one of us has to die?”
“That is true.”
“But how can I?”
“You are the one Chosen by the heir to do so.”
“No, I was here to select the ruler, not this! I won’t!”
“Then your own life will be forfeit and no ruler will be named. Is that your Choice?”
Garinor slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. He had to decide between killing the prince, his best friend, or himself. Though it was true that the prince’s deeds were cruel, he didn’t know if he could assassinate the man in cold blood by simply whispering his name to a bodiless Voice. There had to be another way.
There was Tomli, his best friend, one who had been by his side all his life. Along his journey, Garinor had come to believe that he would one day rule the kingdom, but then the truth was revealed that Tomli instead had that honor. Garinor’s own life had been carefully sculpted as that of a decoy to throw off pursuit for when the prince and the king came looking for the heir. And the ruse had worked, for even now the prince believed that Garinor was destined for the throne. There was a strong injustice in the perils laid at Garinor’s feet. But could he really take his friend’s life?
The last option was to give up his own life in exchange for these two, one of whom would then rule the land. He wondered if Tomli would be able to rise to the position without the years of training the prince had had. But what of himself? His own life would be lost forever and he would never know the fate of the land.
The choices were not pleasant ones, but the light of the scepter demanded he select one. He could feel the power pulsing through him with each passing moment.
His hesitation prompted the Voice to speak again. “Chosen One, you must decide, but Choose wisely. For with every Choice there are consequences.”
He was then held in silence until he decided the destiny of the land.
Garinor should sacrifice himself so the prince could rule.
Garinor should sacrifice himself so Tomli could rule.