Here is Part two of Three Choices. I hope you enjoy it and, as always, please leave a comment at the bottom. 

 

Another five years went by and Astil finished his schooling. He had raced ahead of his peers and when his fifteenth birthday came around, was working with wise men from the local university. His area of focus was on the workings of the mind and he was discovering things daily that no other man had yet to find out.

His name was spreading. Academics from all over the world came to visit and speak with the young prince and to all he gave his time generously. They left invariably talking about his kindness and fierce intelligence.

His birthday dawned bright and sunny and he opted to ride down to the town whilst his parents took the coach. His father had, in the last couple of years, taken the coach more than his own horse. Astil had noticed it only in the offhand way fourteen year olds did and thought nothing of it. He knew his parents were getting older; his father’s hair was greying at the temples and his mother’s beautiful face was bearing a few, hair-thin lines from the corners of her eyes.

He charged down to town with his two guards and spent the morning idling in the central square. His relaxed way around the commoners meant that more than one of the local girls made to dance and flirt with him. He made no attempt to dissuade them and to anyone watching, was having a wonderful time.

Inside, though, the young man’s mind was occupied. The laughter and pretty faces of the girls failed to move him in the same way as the numbers and research of his more recent study and more than once he missed something said to him as his mind wandered down new lines of enquiry.

He was fending off two of his more amorous admirers when his father’s body guard hammered into town. His horse was heaving and its flanks were covered in sweat. The man spotted the prince and leapt down from his horse. He knelt and looked up at Astil with eyes the young man realised with shock were filled with tears.

He didn’t need to say anything. Moments later the four of them hurtled back out of town. Astil drove his horse on until the wreckage of the coach appeared on the road before him. They had been coming around the corner when the axle on the coach went and despite the excellent workmanship, when the body of the coach struck the road, it shattered.

Astil dropped from his horse and staggered to where his mother and father lay by the side of the road. The magician and doctor from the castle were already there and made no effort to disguise the truth from the young prince.

‘Their bodies are sound. The king has a fractured wrist, but it will heal well enough. Their minds, though…’

Again, the question of irony reared its ugly head. This time, though, Astil was in no position to consider it. The king and queen had both suffered severe trauma to the head and would remain unconscious until such time as Astil asked the magician to remove the spells that were, at this point, keeping them alive.

The men with him spoke that night as they raised a glass to their king, of his admirable control and restraint. They said he spoke in a calm, quiet voice as he instructed the soldiers to move his parents up to the castle and ensure they were comfortable. The doctor and magician went with them and, once again, the new king didn’t order, but rather requested that they remain by his parents.

If any of them thought it strange that the boy went back into town and celebrated his birthday with all those who had been waiting for him, they didn’t say so. Instead they talked about how much he’d grown and how proud his father would be that he continued to put the wellbeing and happiness of his subjects above all else.

 

Five years passed and on the eve of his twentieth birthday, the king sat at his parent’s bedside. As he had done every night for the last five years, he spoke to them. He didn’t know whether they heard him. His studies showed that there might be something going on inside, but he knew no more than that. It didn’t matter.

The magician had assured him a number of times that they would never recover and he knew it was the truth. There was nothing behind their eyelids when he lifted them and peered inside. They looked much like his own eyes when he looked in the mirror each morning.

‘War is coming, father. The southern kingdoms are united and have taken everywhere from Silthous to the Canny Sea. They will be coming for us before long.’

The young prince paused and put his head to one side. To anyone watching, it would have looked like he was listening to something. Perhaps it was his father reminding him of a blessing laid twenty years previously. Or perhaps it was only the sound of his lonely heart, thumping in his chest.

‘I love you both.’ His voice caught in his throat and he bent forwards until he pressed his forehead against the soft sheets beneath which his parents had spent the last five years.

As morning broke over the kingdom, word went out that the king and queen had died peacefully in the night. For the first time in twenty years, Astil didn’t celebrate his birthday. Instead, he buried his parents, then prepared for war.

 

The fighting lasted a full nine months and he returned to the castle as spring brought leaves and birds to the woods around the city. He rode through them with his army behind him and as they entered the city, a roar the likes of which Darial had never heard rose from the people lining the roads.

Astil hadn’t stopped at winning the war. He’d chased the armies back to their homes and forced a surrender that would last a hundred years. He was king of not only Darial now, but also every square mile of land between the Spine of the World and the Canny sea. His power was absolute.

That night he sat in his castle and sipped mulled wine, thinking on the campaign from which he’d just returned. It had been easy. It had been too easy. Every battle had worked out just as he’d predicted. His enemies had done exactly what he thought they would.

His thoughts spiraled back to his studies. He had never found them difficult either. Sure, some things he had had to work at and others had confounded him, sometimes for days! But it had never taxed him.

As he was climbing into bed, he reached for the woman who currently shared it and wondered about her, as well. He was a prince, so finding people to spend time with was never difficult, but finding women to take to his bed had been even easier. He’d never had to find the right line or woo them. They had come like leaves fall in autumn.

He slept badly that night and woke knowing what he had to do. The journey would take only a week each way, so he left his steward in charge of the castle and trusted the kingdom to run itself. He set off alone as the sun struck long lines of gold across the land and headed north for the mountains.

 

Six days passed and his food was all but gone when he spied the cave mouth. A wind that cut straight through his cloak had him shivering and he wouldn’t at that point have worried had the cave been home to a bear. But as luck had it, when he tied his horse up, rubbed him down as quickly as he reasonably could and covered him for the night, a young blonde woman beckoned to him from the cave mouth.

He went in and found a fire blazing at one end. The smoke was escaping somehow and the light in the cave was clear and bright. It made looking at the woman even more pleasurable than the brief glance he’d got from outside. Her beauty took what was left of his breath away and if he thought the skimpy clothing she wore was odd for someone who lived in the mountains, he didn’t mention anything. In fact, no words were shared as he divested first himself of his heavy garb then did the same for her considerably lighter outfit.

The oddest thing when he awoke was that he could remember nothing of the previous night past their first kiss. He could close his eyes and picture her naked body, but he couldn’t see himself with her. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The cave was empty and the fire cold. He dressed, shivering, and stoked the fire. It lit quickly and the cave filled with smoke.

Gasping and coughing, Astil ran outside to where his horse whickered softly to him. He patted it and gave it what was left of the oats in the saddlebag.

He jumped when he saw them waiting.

He didn’t know how he knew, but the three women stood across the narrow plateau were the very same that had attended his bedside twenty years previously. He recognised the youngest and blushed at the brazen look she gave him. The middle of the three ladies stepped forward and Astil’s breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t his mother, he knew that, but her likeness was close enough that a lump formed and stopped him swallowing.

‘Welcome, young prince. You are a long way from your kingdom.’

‘My ladies. I came searching for you.’

‘You certainly did that.’ said the youngest.

He blushed again and cleared his throat. ‘I need to speak to you.’

‘You’re doing that quite well at the moment.’ The eldest sounded nice, friendly, and he turned his attention to her. ‘I do not mean to sound ungrateful, but when I was born you attended me and gave me three blessings. Is that right?’

The ladies nodded and the youngest smiled slyly. ‘Last night, it could be said, I gave you a fourth.’

‘Hush, young one, let him speak.’ The eldest sounded harsher when speaking to the blonde.

‘I want you to take them back.’

The eldest folded her arms and tutted. The middle put her hands on her hips and stared at him frankly. The youngest crossed the space between them and stood until he could feel her breath on his chin.

‘I do not think you can take back what you gave me last night, can you?’ Her whispering voice made him shiver and his hands longed to grab her. But he took a careful step backwards and cleared his throat. ‘My life has not been my own. I didn’t understand that until last week. I have been making choices, but they were not my own.’

‘Your father accepted our blessings. I’m sorry, laddie, but nothing can be done.’ The eldest said.

‘We have swapped blessings, so now the deal it doubly sealed.’ The youngest said before turning and walking back to her sisters.

The middle one looked at her sisters, stepped forward and cocked her head to one side. ‘There is one way we can undo our blessing. We can give you back everything you’ve lost, but it will require a sacrifice.’

The prince thought about his sacrifices. He thought about his dog, though he remembered him only vaguely. He thought about his horse and the parents he remembered very well. He knew about sacrifice. He didn’t think he had anything left to give, so what did he have to lose?

He nodded. ‘What do you require of me?’

‘Nine months from now, your son will be born.’

Astil’s eyes opened wide and he stared at the youngest, who patted her stomach and smiled at him.

The middle sister went on. ‘He will grow up to be the most powerful man ever to walk the Earth. People will hear his name and tremble, for he will be terrible and mighty. His name shall strike terror into all who hear it.’ She paused and glanced sideways at the other two, both of whom nodded. Astil shuddered as the eldest smiled sadly and turned away. ‘All that we ask, if that you raise him and let him be whatever he needs to be. Every choice and every decision must be his.’

‘What if I consider those choices unwise?’

‘Every choice, every decision.’

‘But what if he is doing something foolish? What if he is doing something dangerous?’

‘Every choice, every decision.’

Astil turned away and looked out over the mountains. The sun turned the sky a pale blue as his breath misted in the air. He would have a son. Yet another thing that wasn’t his choice. But if he said yes, everything hereafter would be. He turned back to the ladies and nodded. ‘I will do it.’

 

He awoke wrapped in furs beneath the overhang of the cave. Astil rubbed sleep from his eyes and yawned. How long he’d been sleeping he had no idea, but he felt refreshed and buoyed up. The view from the mountains was glorious and he was glad he’d come up here on the way home. The thin air had cleared his mind and given him new hope for the cure.

The ride home seemed shorter. His saddlebags had been filled miraculously with food and the weather cleared, making his return journey down into the lowlands and spring pleasant and easy. His horse was darker than he remembered and moved with an ease and grace that amazed him.

He first saw the smoke two days from home.

The first refugees passed him later the same day. He recognised them from the town, but they looked quite different out here on the road. Harsh eyes bore into him as they refused to speak and answer his questions. He spurred his horse on until he reached the last hill before the city. He reined in at the top and stared at Darial.

The old castle was in ruins, flames leaking from windows and smoke filling the sky. Rising with the smoke came the screams of victims from down in the city. He set off at a gallop, but without knowing why, guided the horse left of the city and into the woods that guarded it on that side.

As he rode into the shadows cast by the vast canopy of leaves and branches, the feeling of coming home was overwhelming. The trees before him broke apart and he came into a clearing. He had never been here, he was sure, but he knew instinctively where to tie his horse and the creak of the front door seemed as familiar as the acrid smell that assaulted him on the other side. The dog bounded up to meet him and just like that, he was home.

The room was filled with test tubes and beakers, bubbling liquids and all manner of books. His research. He struggled with it and in part it was because he just wasn’t as smart as the others. His teacher thought that his emotions clouded his vision and perhaps he was right. He took the stairs two at a time and pushed gently into his parents’ room.

They lay side by side and he breathed a sigh of relief that Old Janner had done what he promised. The sheets were fresh and clean and the window was open. Astil knelt at their bedside, took his father’s withered and dry hand and pressed his forehead to it.

‘I’m home. I’m sorry I had to go away. They don’t have the equipment here. But I’ve got it now. I’m sure I’m going to crack it this time. You’ll be awake soon, I promise you.’

He left them and went back downstairs. He was sore from riding, but couldn’t help pulling the apparatus from his saddlebags and setting them up. He could get the experiment going before he got some sleep.

The sounds of screaming reached him, but the house deep in the woods was hidden and safe from the invading southern armies. They still hadn’t found him nine months later, when a basket appeared on his doorstep, containing a newborn child and a note that simply said:

Every choice, every decision.