If a farmer wanted to plant the seeds for his crops on the side of a hillside before a rainstorm was it Gareth’s responsibility to tell him that it was a bad idea because the seeds would wash away? Had he lied? Could he suggest he talk to another who had tried the same thing and failed? How could one man enter so many lives? The answer was that he could not. There were too many individuals and most of what happened it their lives was their own business.
But there were also larger issues. If a drought made the crops fail in the southern part of the kingdom and people were starving, could Gareth do less than suggest farmers in the north transport their excess food there? If invaders from across the sea attacked could he do less than help the King’s generals with their battle plans? And if an insane youth from across the mountains arrived with intent to kill all in the kingdom . . .”
His thoughts turned to the past, to stories and lessons the man he’d come to find as his father, had relayed to him. While Gareth considered him his father, in fact, he had been far more. Over a span of around four hundred years since he had bonded with a black dragon called Cinder, his father had watched over the entire kingdom and beyond. His work had been done in the background, and few knew of his existence.
Those that did know of him envied and desired his powers so his mentor had isolated himself and performed his deeds in obscure manners as had the one before him, and the one before him. For a thousand generations, there had been one man referred to as The Gareth, an ancient word most believed meant protector, or guidance, in a language so old nobody remembered it.
Gareth considered the man he knew to be The Gareth as his father, even though another man who had died quite young had sired him. For nearly thirty years the two had spoken with their minds interlinked daily. His father found and corrected problems before others knew they existed. The number of plots foiled against the aging king was endless. As his father discovered a plot, he deftly resolved it.
In one instance, the elder son of the king, on advice from power hungry friends, sprinkled a deadly poison into the wine mug the king was using at dinner. Gareth’s father made a lowly servant deliver a plate of cheese to the table, and while the servant’s back shielded his actions of the delivery, he switched the two mugs. The son died, and nobody ever knew or suspected the plot to kill the king.
Ann still fussed with the fire and small chores around the camp that didn’t need doing. Gareth wanted to console her. He wanted to reassure her that all would be well, but that was as impossible as making mental contact with his family and consoling them.
“Are you going to just sit there all night?” Ann asked. “Or are you talking to someone?”
“Thinking.”
“Worried?”
“Yes. There is a lot I don’t know.”
“The Brotherhood provided you with training for years. Your mind should easily defeat that of a boy who has had no training.”
“I escaped before the Brotherhood could fully train me. What I learned from my father was to be benevolent, kind, and compassionate. He never instructed me in how to fight. I did learn to set up locks on my mind that would be difficult to defeat. But they are not enough in this instance.”
“How so? I mean, since I’ve been alive you’ve been considered the most powerful mind alive, and you’re acting like a scared bunny.”
“I am scared. But you are mistaken. I was never the most powerful. My father was. Before they killed him. And Cinder was the most powerful dragon. Cinder is in a field, rotting. Blackie and I are far less powerful.”
Ann withdrew from the anger, hurt, and fear in his voice.
He said no more as he squeezed his eyes closed and refused to look at her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gareth, still lost in thought, tossed the blanket around his shoulders and continued watching the fire until it was no more than a bed of orange coals. Some time ago Ann had gone to sleep, but his mind was spinning and churning with doubts and possibilities. Most of them dark.
He’d put his finger directly on the problem while speaking to Ann. His father had lived four hundred years without ever losing a challenge of any sort. His dragon was the largest and the only adult black in existence. Together they were a force, a team nothing in four hundred years could defeat, and he was preceded by his ‘father’ and his. A thousand generations, some said. A thousand generations of being the strongest in the world.
But he and his dragon now lay dead.
Charging up the valley into the jaws of whatever had defeated a stronger mind and mature dragon was stupid. If it had defeated them, it certainly would defeat him.
Yet, he couldn’t leave it alone, or it would remain in the kingdom and defeat the entire population. But his emotions and desires to rush up the valley and charge into his father’s home were more than stupid. It was careless and dangerous.
Sacrificing himself for a cause he believed in was acceptable if needed. But needless death was unacceptable. The words he used to describe his dilemma were nearly the same but meant entirely different outcomes. The single item that he dwelled upon was that he was the best chance of defeating this new enemy. If Gareth failed, the kingdom would fall, and tens of thousands would perish.
Ann’s hand found his shoulder in the darkness. She had awakened and now stood behind him without him being aware. “You’re not alone, you know.”
He said, “I feel I am.”
“No, that’s a mistake. Maybe the same mistake your father made? You have the Sisterhood and Brotherhood to draw on, as well as the King supporting you. That is your advantage. Use us.”
There was the ring of truth and hope in her words. While the King had not offered his support, Gareth felt certain that after meeting with the Brotherhood, he would. That is, if the Brother Gareth spoke to, managed to convince the Brotherhood to help him. And while Ann demanded the Sisterhood fall into ranks behind Gareth, that demand had not even been presented, let alone accepted.
“After everyone is aware of the danger maybe we can do that. But I do not want that evil mind to gain a foothold on our kingdom.”
“Two points. First, it already has a foothold. Second, you cannot continue referring to it like that ‘evil mind’.”
“Giving it a name personalizes it. I want to keep this at a distance because I have no idea of how far I may be forced to go when I defeat it.”
Ann glanced at the sleeping boy near her feet. “Ask him.”
She had an idea. Gareth had been so intent on squelching all thought emanations he hadn’t considered the idea that he could talk to the boy. Learn from him.
Gareth reached out and seized the mind of the boy in a grasp equivalent to his hands and fingers encircling the thin neck. The small body reacted like it had touched an electric eel, going stiff and shaking.
Gareth used his mind to demand, “What is your name?”
*Ramos.*
The answer had come too quickly. Fear motivated it. Gareth found the method of his questioning and response repulsive. He relaxed as much as possible and asked, “What is the name of the one who tells you what to do?”
*Belcher, but he wants us to call him Master.*