The Path of Decisions Read Free

his own
     if his heart sees the true power.
    He will bring light to fight darkness
    and love to fight hate
    if he reaches into the power of his heart. . .
     “But how can prophecy help our plight? There is no excuse for the
treatment we receive. My father is dead!” Christine held the tears in and replaced
them with anger. If she couldn’t feel joy, then anger would suffice as an
emotion to hold on to. “Can prophecy bring him back?”
    Let go of your anger , the Cremelino chastened her softly. It will destroy you.
    Kicking the flanks of her horse, rather than sending the normal
silent command, Christine rode out of the meadow. “My anger is all I have right
now. Darius is gone. My father is gone. Will you leave me, too?” she asked the
Cremelino.
    Never, my child. I am here for you. This is the way things are meant
to be.
    Weaving in and out of leafless oaks and maples sprinkled with
green pines, they flew over the late winter ground until they emerged onto the
dirt road leading from the farm lands to the city. The road was ill maintained,
and pot holes from a recent storm dotted the dirt. A new storm brooded on the
horizon, sending a cool wind across Christine’s face.
    Up ahead before a bend in the road they spotted movement behind
some trees. Christine slowed down, peering forward to catch the movement again.
Lightning stomped the ground and whinnied, eyes fixed on the same spot.
    As the two neared the spot, suddenly three young men jumped out in
front of her horse, forcing them to stop. The abrupt halt caught Christine by
surprise and she was thrown off the horse and onto the wet dirt.
    “What do we have here?” said one of the young men, stepping out in
front of the others. The three looked around the same age as Chistine. Their
wool pants tucked into their high black boots and thick black cloaks marked
them from inside the walls of Anikari. The apparent leader had a goatee, while
the others did not appear old enough yet to grow one.
    Christine stood up and tried to ignore them, not even brushing
herself off in her hurry to mount Lightning again. Her heart began to pound.
    “Nice horse you have here,” said the leader. “Looks way too rich
for an outsider to own. Did you steal her?”
    “She was a gift.” Christine hoped only she heard her voice
tremble. She grabbed a fistful of Lightning’s mane to pull herself up.
    The three young men laughed. Another one, shorter but stockier
than the rest, moved next to the horse, shoved Christine away, and reached his
hand out to the mare’s mane. “No one could afford to give you a gift like
this.”
    With the touch of the man’s hand, Lightning snorted and stepped
back a pace.
    The leader of the group moved to grab the horse. “We will take her
back to her rightful owner.”
    With an angry neigh, Lightning reared up and kicked the young man
hard in the chest. A bag he had been holding smashed to the ground, and its
contents scattered across the road as he crumpled beside it. The other two
backed up a couple of steps, eyes suddenly hard.
    Something caught Christine’s eye, and she reached down and picked
up a small packet from the scattered pack. It held flint, steel, and tinder,
wrapped around with a string. Sudden anger took the trembling from her limbs,
and she turned to face the three men.
    “What’s this for?” she yelled at the leader who was scrambling
backwards to get off of the ground.
    He reached toward her to take back his belongings. “None of your
business. Now give it back to me.”
    All three of the young men moved closer. Lightning moved between
them and Christine.
    “Stupid horse,” said the third man. He was tall and thin and
reminded Christine of her friend Thomas. He tried to push the Cremelino away,
but the horse pushed him back with her head.
    “Leave the horse alone and get the girl,” the leader said. “And
get my stuff from the ground.”
    The three instigators moved closer to Christine again. Her heart
pounded in her chest