The Kinshield Legacy (an epic/heroic fantasy adventure) (The Kinshield Saga)

by K. C. May

  Gavin felt the blood rush to his face. What man was so ignoble to genuflect to a warrant knight? He touched the scholar’s shoulder. “Please don’t do that.”

  When Sage Marckys raised his eyes to Gavin’s, he stammered an apology as he rose to his feet. “I should have recognized you from the cave the day the first rune was solved. Forgive me, my lord.”

  “Never mind that,” Gavin said. Having people socially superior to him suddenly treat him with reverence disturbed him. He removed the black velvet pouch from his pocket and pulled apart the drawstring top. Careful not to touch the diamond, he withdrew Calewen’s Pendant and let it dangle from its chain in front of Sage Marckys’s face.

  The scholar gasped. His eyes followed the diamond’s gentle swing until Gavin laid the pendant on the table.

  “The letter?” Gavin asked.

  “Of course, my lord. Our regular scribe is away, but if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll copy it myself.”

  * * * * *

  Daia paced the length of the dining room, her stomach knotted, her hands flexing and unflexing. Brawna sat quietly, and Edan babbled some nonsense about Gavin’s ability to fend for himself. Daia barely heard him. Gavin could be dead, lying in an alley somewhere, or unconscious and bound, being whisked away to Ravenkind’s hideaway to be tortured. When the door opened and Gavin walked in, she let out a cry of relief. “Where the hell have you been? You can’t just sneak out while everyone’s asleep.”

  Gavin’s brow dipped. “You're hollering at me for sneaking out, after the stunt you pulled with Cirang’s knife?”

  “My life isn’t as valuable as yours is. All it takes-- wait. How did you know about that?”

  Gavin grinned. “That connection you made with me? On the stairs? Went both ways.”

  Daia felt her cheeks tingle. What else had he gleaned from poking around in her mind? “Gavin, all it takes is one hot-handed brigand with a death wish to do you in, and there goes another two hundred years of our history.” She paced around the table. “We’ve waited a long time for this. The people deserve a king. I am not about to let you go wandering off unescorted into Yrys-knows-what dangers without a defender at your back. You owe it to Thendylath to exercise caution.”

  She expected an angry retort, but he sat down quietly at the table with a smile on his face and reached for a piece of bread.

  “I want to go with you,” she continued, “no matter how benign the situation appears to be. Brodas Ravenkind is still at large. If I can’t accompany you for whatever reason, take Edan or Brawna.”

  Gavin chuckled.

  His humor ignited her fury. He obviously didn't take the situation -- or her concern -- seriously. “What do you find so amusing, Kinshield?” she hollered. “The fact that you worried us all with your inexplicable disappearance, or that you could’ve been killed?”

  “No. I’m just trying to imagine the scholars at the institute trying to slay me with their mighty quills.” He reached into his tunic and withdrew a scroll. Edan, Daia and Brawna watched him silently as he unrolled it. He handed it to Daia. “Read this.”

  Daia took it, holding Gavin’s gaze. Was this what she thought it was? She scanned it, reading silently. It was. The letter to the Lordover Tern from Ronor Kinshield -- a copy, judging from the clean parchment and fresh smell of ink. Had he read it yet? Could he read?

  “Out loud,” Gavin said.

  Risan walked in. "Dwaeth is still asleep." He looked around the table. "I am interrupting?"

  "Risan, take a seat," Gavin said. "You should hear this, too."

  Casting her eyes back down at the page, Daia began to read the letter aloud.

  * * * * *

  To Portulus Celònd, Lordover Tern

  From Ronor Kinshield, Champion to King Arek of Thendylath

  This fifteenth day of Nevebria in the second year, fourth decade, fifteenth century of the Sacrifice

  It is with a heavy heart and head hanged in shame that I take pen in hand to give an accounting of the events that transpired at the palace on a day that shall forever be mourned as one of ultimate defeat. I ask you to please relay the information to the other lordovers of Thendylath. On the matter of how widely to distribute this knowledge, I leave to your better judgment.

  The wizard Crigoth Sevae, in his foul attempt to usurp the throne, has unleashed upon the world a monster horrific in appearance and so vastly powerful that three thousand of the king’s men-at-arms joined in a single force could not defeat it. This monster is called Ritol and it feeds on the life force of the dying. Not only has it acquired an insatiable lust for the human spirit, but it acquires the spirit-bound attributes of those it consumes. It has thusly gained immense magical powers in the few days since it crossed into this realm. It was at the claws of this wretched beast that the queen has perished.

  My most solemn vow was to protect King Arek, with my own life if need be. I left his side in order to ensure the safety of the queen and the unborn heir, and in doing so, I failed that vow. Had I known she was already deceased with the heir lying still within her womb, I would have disobeyed King Arek's final command and delivered him safely from the palace at all costs.

  Yet, on the brink of King Arek’s death, even as I was about to surrender him to the monster Ritol, I made another vow. I swore that in the event of Queen Calewen’s death and that of their child, I would not leave the kingdom without a ruler. King Arek entreated me to speak the names of the five runes he had carved into the tablet, claim the gems they protected and his magic contained therein, and rule Thendylath. With this new vow fresh upon my lips, I abandoned our king to a torturous death at the claws of the demon Ritol. King Arek’s demise, and the manner of it, sits heavily upon my shoulders.

  Alas, I cannot fulfill my vow. I have neither the strength of will nor the clarity of conscience to do so.

  Responsibility for the king's death is mine. I fully expect that my punishment for disobedience and regicide will be death, and I would welcome it as a reprieve from the shame in which I now live. My greatest fear is that I will live on in the Afterlife to face my king and be required to answer for my failed vows. My only salvation would be by the grace of an enlightened man who would meditate upon the runes and learn their names, thus claiming the throne in my stead. Yet, it is not within my right to tutor such a man in order to relieve me of my burden, and so I live on, ever hopeful that my savior will present himself.

  To him I would offer this counsel: beware Ritol. Find a way to vanquish the demon imprisoned within the palace. On passing through the gate with all five gems in your possession, you will open the demon’s prison and make vulnerable to its horrors every man, woman and child of Thendylath and, verily, the world. It is now up to you to seal the rift and end the onslaught of beyonders from the underworld, but save yourself at all costs, lest the power of Wayfarer become Ritol’s.

  Finally, should you miraculously survive this challenge, I implore you to find King Arek’s bones entombed within the palace and give him the burial he deserves.

  Yours,

  Ronor Kinshield

  Chapter 62

  Gavin’s heart pounded so furiously, he had a fleeting thought that he would die of heart tremors right there at the table. His gaze locked onto Daia’s ice blue eyes. Ronor Kinshield’s words could have been Gavin’s; they’d both rested their hopes on a savior, someone else to claim the King's Blood-stone and ascend to the throne.

  As Daia read the letter, it all started to make sense. He still believed there was no destiny, yet neither did he truly have free choice in this matter; he was there because of Ronor’s failed vow. No. He could no longer blame his failings on a long dead ancestor.

  It was my own vow.

  The thought startled him and he shoved it from his mind. Ronor Kinshield had spent years ignoring his vow to the king, wishing for a scholar to take his place, and now Gavin was repeating the mistake. But Gavin’s mistake was not limited to one vow; he had been making promises in every aspect of his life and
failing to keep them.

  I swear, the voice from his dream whispered in his mind. More than a voice -- a feeling. A hand gripping his arm. The sight of azure eyes boring into his own. The image started to fade. Gavin clutched for it, felt it slip away.

  "Daia," he whispered.

  She knew what he wanted, for he felt her presence take hold of him, anchoring him while he rappelled into a swirl of forms and sounds inside his mind, a memory he'd always known he had, but could never find.

  In the span of a single heartbeat, two hundred fourteen years disappeared like the wisp of smoke from a candle being extinguished. Gavin saw walls stretching to a high-domed ceiling, musty volumes scattered desperately across the white marble floor. He pictured a familiar figure bent over a huge round table as clearly as though it was happening all over again.

  * * * * *

  Ronor burst into the library, ready to announce the completion of his task. When he saw the king, hunched over the wide oak table before him, he held his tongue.

  Sweat soaked the rounded collar of King Arek’s tan tunic. His hands shook as he chiseled a rune into the surface of a stone tablet; four gems had been embedded into its surface with four runes etched beside them. King Arek blew the dust from the tablet, and placed a green and red-speckled bloodstone into the last remaining hole. With a shaking hand, he began to chisel another rune into the stone beside it, chanting softly as he worked.

  Ronor paced to calm his anxiety and impatience. What the tablet was for, he did not know. King Arek had not mentioned it before. The time required to set the gems and carve the runes was time they should have been using to prepare for the demon’s arrival. But if King Arek thought it important enough to do now, Ronor would not argue. His inclination was to urge the king to hurry, but to infuse magic into the carved symbols, King Arek needed to concentrate. Ronor supposed his footsteps echoing on the marble floor did not help, and he went to the window to look out.

  From his vantage point in the palace, he saw most of Tern. The streets were deserted except for a few foolish individuals scurrying to their destinations. They had been warned; they knew the danger. Ronor’s hand went reflexively to the hilt of his sword.

  Ordinarily, he did not worry about the occasional madman threatening to usurp the throne. They heard such ramblings from time to time. What danger he could not vanquish with his sword, King Arek eradicated with magic. But Crigoth Sevae had been more determined than mad. If only Ronor had killed him before the mage had summoned the demon. Now, with the life force of so many armsmen and countless civilians, the demon Ritol was more than a match for King Arek. Soon the demon would seek out the king here, hungry for King Arek’s magic.

  “Finished,” King Arek said at last. “Did you place all six rune stones?” His shoulders slumped and he reached for the glass of water on the table with a quivering hand.

  “Yes, my liege, as you instructed,” Ronor said, going to his king. “You need rest.”

  “We haven’t time to rest,” King Arek said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Ronor, if the demon kills me and gets my magic, it will become Wayfarer and have free access to all of the realms in existence, not just our own.”

  Ronor nodded with a questioning scowl. Why was King Arek telling him what he already knew?

  “It is my magic, not my life, that you must protect now,” King Arek continued. “This tablet is like a key. I didn’t mention it before because I didn't want to argue with you. I’ve bound my magic to the gems within it. When I die--”

  “My lord, no,” Ronor said. “You won't die. I will protect--”

  “Ronor, listen to me. When I die, my magic will fill these gems and the realms will be safe. For a time. You must take the tablet beyond the boundary of the palace. When you do, the runes you placed around the grounds will form a barrier, giving me time to reach the vortex and enter the demon’s realm.”

  “My liege, that was not our plan. I’m going with you.”

  “I’ve come to realize that our plan is flawed,” King Arek said, shaking his head. “If we don't seal the rift, our efforts will be for naught.”

  “My lord, we’ve discussed this a dozen times. My presence there will buy you time to cross back.”

  “You can’t know what your willingness to sacrifice yourself means to me. But the risk is too great. What if your presence there does not seal the rift? What if the demon kills us both? We must ensure the tablet's safety above all else, for the sake of the other realms and the innocent beings who inhabit them. This is the only way. Now, go. Take the tablet to the stronghold. Calewen should be there by now.” King Arek paused and his eyes softened. “Do you think she’s safe?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Ronor replied with certainty. “She has Galomand and the rest of the men to protect her, plus the barrier spell on the cave entrance.” He had to believe the queen was safe. The alternative was too dire to speculate about, for she carried the king’s heir in her womb. The time for doubt had long passed.

  “I have been proud to call you a friend, Ronor.”

  Sunlight gleaming through the tall windows lit up King Arek’s azure eyes, and at last, Ronor understood; King Arek knew he would not be returning.

  "As have I, my liege," Ronor replied. His voice grated through his constricted throat.

  The king made a quick movement, then offered his hand. Ronor shook it, feeling something pressed into his palm.

  “Give this to Calewen,” King Arek said. “For my son.”

  Ronor looked down at King Arek’s signet ring in his palm. He curled his fingers around it and clenched his jaw. Perhaps the king had accepted his fate, but Ronor refused to do the same. King Arek would return to claim his ring. "You will be back, my liege."

  “We’ve taken every precaution to protect Calewen, but nothing in life is certain. Should you survive us all, promise me you won't leave the country without a ruler.”

  Ronor jerked back as though he had been slapped. “My lord! No!”

  “You mustn’t let Thendylath fall into chaos. You have been at my side for thirteen years. Promise me you’ll pick up where I left off, if it comes to that.”

  “Your majesty, we won't fail. We will prevail—”

  King Arek gripped Ronor’s arm. “Swear it. Swear it on your immortal soul!”

  Ronor searched King Arek’s eyes, burning with apprehension. It was a moot point, but the king needed reassurance. “I swear.”

  King Arek held his gaze for a moment, and Ronor felt a chill sweep over him.

  In the distance, a scream pierced the silence. Ronor rushed to the window. A dark hunched form raced through the streets of Tern. “It’s coming! My lord, we must hurry.” He drew the leather gauntlet from his rear pocket and put it on his sword hand. He stood no chance of surviving a battle with the demon, but he wanted to be ready.

  King Arek tried to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him. “I can't. I haven’t the strength.” He looked up at Ronor, and in his eyes, the initial horror of his peril was replaced by a knowing acceptance. “Ronor, take the tablet. Run!”

  Ronor tried to pull Arek to his feet. “Yes, my lord, but first you must get to the vortex. I will seal you inside the palace.”

  “There’s no time, Ronor. You must keep the tablet safe.”

  “No, my liege, I have sworn to protect you.”

  “You have sworn to obey. Take the tablet and go. Now!” King Arek leaned against the table, his legs quivering.

  The wide double doors in the great hall slammed open. The noise echoed ominously through the corridors.

  “You’ll be trapped,” Ronor argued. “Trapped inside the palace with it.”

  “GO!” King Arek shouted.

  In one quick movement, Ronor ducked his head, wrapped an arm around King Arek’s thighs and hoisted the king over his shoulder. He would disobey his king and suffer the consequence of it later rather than leave him to die.

  “Ronor, no,” King Arek said. “It’ll kill us both. You must get the tablet to safety.”


  Ronor fumbled to lift the stone tablet with his other hand, and clutched it to his chest. The smell of sulfur wafted through the hall. He began to run down the corridor, but feared his heavy footsteps would give away their position. As quickly as he could manage, he started down the back staircase.

  “King Arek,” a tri-tonal voice boomed behind him. “At last we meet.”

  Ronor took the stairs two at a time. His own weight and that of King Arek on his shoulder threatened to break his ankles with every step. A wave of force hit him from behind. He flew forward. He and King Arek tumbled down the stairs. Ronor clutched the tablet protectively. When at last they came to a stop at the landing, Ronor crawled on his elbows to reach his king.

  Blood trickled from King Arek’s nose and ears. His body was skewed awkwardly, his legs twisted beneath him. King Arek swallowed with a gurgling sound. “Run, Ronor,” he whispered.

  For a second, Ronor considered trying to pick King Arek up once again. He looked into the brilliant blue eyes of the king, and he knew that this was farewell. All their years together and the powerful bond that had formed between them culminated in this final moment – with Ronor abandoning his king when he most needed protection.

  The demon Ritol stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with glittering black eyes. It started down the steps.

  Ronor took a small flat stone from his pocket, a rune of protection carved into its surface, and pressed it into King Arek’s hand. With the stone tablet clutched in his arms, Ronor rolled to his feet. The demon swiped at him, ripping two long furrows down his face and sending him spinning. He hit the wall and stumbled, caught himself and sprinted through the dining hall. Something crashed behind him. A door burst from its hinges and struck the opposite wall. He raced through the kitchen and out the back door, slammed it shut and rammed a bar through its two handles. The rune carved into its surface crackled as though a bolt of lightning had shot through it. From behind the door came a fearsome shriek that made the hairs on Ronor’s neck bristle. He darted across the inner courtyard and mounted his battle horse, then kicked wildly at the horse’s sides, spurring it to a gallop.