The Kinshield Legacy

by K. C. May

  “I’ll have my ring back too,” Brodas said. “And the sword. Give them to me, Kinshield, or my army will cut you down.”

  “Gavin’s our rightful king,” Daia said. “He solved the runes; the King’s Blood-stone and all that goes with it are his.”

  Hazes, Gavin thought. Gems had hazes like people did. Gavin relaxed his eyes and began to sense a series of cords, wrapped around the gem. A thread, as fine as spider silk, stretched from the gem in the ring to the one that lay against the blonde battler’s chest. He saw them all -- dozens of threads -- some stretching toward the women standing with the blonde, others disappearing into the trees toward Sohan. One stretched southwest, toward Ambryce.

  “Kill them,” Brodas commanded. “Kill them all.”

  Imagining his will as a blade, Gavin severed the threads with a hard slice.

  Lilalian’s sword was in motion, but when it reached the top of its arc, Lilalian stopped and pulled it back. One moment her brow was low, her teeth gritted in the fury of battle, and the next, her eyes were wide under arched brows, her mouth open in a gape. She darted a hand out to catch herself on the shoulder of the warrior beside her. “Oh, blessed Yrys.”

  “What are you doing?” Brodas shouted. “Kill them.”

  Some of the women gasped; others scowled, blinking and looking around as if they didn’t remember how they’d gotten there.

  “You’re free to choose your own path now,” Gavin said.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Brodas said. “He’s a bloody peasant. I am your true king, and I’ve given you a command. Kill them!”

  Lilalian’s face, though full of weariness, grew hard. Her eyes flitted between Brodas and Gavin.

  Gavin reached for his sword, hoping that whatever enchantment it contained would work as well against steel as it did against magic. Twenty five to five was hardly a fair fight.

  “You killed Aminda,” Lilalian said. Her eyes glowed, and her face reddened. “You killed her right in front of me.” She ripped the necklace off, threw it to the ground and spat on it. One by one, the other women followed suit, stomping on their necklaces and grinding them into the dirt under their heels.

  “He killed my mother too,” young Dwaeth cried. He picked up a rock and threw. Brodas deflected it easily away.

  Cirang looked from Brodas to Lilalian and back, a scowl darkening her face.

  Gavin seized the moment. “Brodas Ravenkind,” Gavin said, raising his sword, “for the murders you’ve committed, your sentence is death.”

  The rest of the swordswomen turned to Brodas. Lips curled, fists tightened around hilts. “Allow me,” said a short redhead. She took a step forward, prompting several of the women to start toward him. Someone reached for his horse’s halter, and another grabbed for his leg as though to pull him from his saddle.

  Brodas hauled back on the reins, and his mount’s head snapped up. The horse, wide-eyed, began to prance and neigh, and its front legs lifted in a shallow rear. The swordswomen fell back to avoid the agitated animal.

  “Get back, traitors,” Cirang said. She slashed her blade at her fellow Sisters, and a wildness twisted her face. Brodas pulled the left rein. His horse spun. Then, he and Cirang whipped their horses to a gallop.

  “Archers,” Lilalian shouted.

  Gavin focused on the gems in the hilt of his new sword, unsure what to do to stop Brodas’s escape, but wanting, needing to try. Justice for his family’s murder was finally within reach.

  Thoop! Thoop! Thoop! Thoop! Two arrows narrowly missed their mark, one hit the horse, the other struck Brodas between the shoulder blades. Brodas cried out. His horse screamed and stumbled.

  “My king!” Cirang cried. She reached for him from her horse.

  Edan and three of the Sisters whipped another arrow from their quivers.

  Gavin felt pressure building in his chest, which turned quickly to heat. He imagined it as an arrow and released it toward Brodas. A formless shimmer sliced through the air toward him. Too late. Cirang pulled Brodas from his horse onto hers, out of the spell’s path. It struck a tree, snapping its ten-inch trunk as though it were a dry reed.

  A few of the swordswomen made to go after them, but Lilalian called, “Stop. You can’t catch them on foot. We’ll hunt them down later.”

  An archer loosed her arrow, a last effort to take down the escaping wizard. Everyone watched the arrow dive harmlessly into the loamy forest floor.

  Then, all eyes turned to Gavin, and a hush settled over the group.

  Brawna went to one knee, holding her sword before her, its point on the ground and its hilt level with her heart. “Hail, King Gavin!” she declared, her voice strong and clear.

  Lilalian dropped to one knee, and the other swordswomen followed her lead. “Hail, King Gavin,” they cried in a single voice. Edan, Risan and Dwaeth joined them.

  Daia smiled knowingly, her eyes welled with tears, and then she, too, went to her knee. “Hail, King Gavin,” she said with the rest of them, her voice ringing out more loudly than the others.

  After Gavin had shaken hands with Risan and Dwaeth and waved as they left toward Ambryce on Domach’s horse, he rode on to Tern with Daia, Edan, and a small contingent of swordswomen. At Daia’s insistence, Brawna had returned to the Sisterhood compound to continue her training with Gavin’s promise that she would have a place at his side when she was ready.

  As they traveled, heavy clouds darkened road and mood. Gavin’s neck and shoulders ached under the weight of the unseen crown upon his head. He hoped, wished that this was all a horrible nightmare from which he would awaken with a scream, bathed in sweat. What he would have given for such a dream.

  “We can build another palace,” Edan said. “There’s no reason we have to get into the old one. We could leave the demon trapped inside forever.”

  Thunder rumbled across the valley, warning them away from this dangerous notion.

  “Except to give King Arek a proper burial,” Gavin said. ”Except to seal the rift between the worlds and end the invasion of beyonders. Sooner or later, someone’ll have to breach the barrier and face the demon. That someone is me.“ Gavin looked at Daia. ”And I have what I need.“

  “We don’t have to do it now,” Edan said. “We have time to study the runes, learn about this demon and enter when we’re ready.”

  “Is it still alive?” Daia asked. “It’s been in the palace for over two hundred years. If it’s alive at all, it must be weak. Weaker than it was when King Arek and his men-at-arms faced it.”

  Gavin nodded. “Yeh, it’s alive, but maybe that’s our advantage. If we can send it back afore it gains its strength, we might stand a chance.”

  “Send it back?” Daia asked, incredulous. “No, no, no. We have to kill it. We gather as many Sisters and warrant knights as we can, recruit some battlers from the lordovers’ garrisons, then storm the palace.”

  “We can’t kill it,” Gavin said in a quiet voice. “It’s immortal. We have to send it back to its own realm.”

  They all stared at him with gaping expressions. “How?” Edan asked.

  Gavin looked up. The dark clouds above took the shape of a demon, shifting like a predator about to strike, and then growled. “I have to go into the realm o’the beyonders and summon it there.”

  Epilogue

  Gavin was in Tern with all five gems, defenders at his back and his new sword firmly in hand, its magic bound to him. Why, then, did Risan feel uneasy? He was going home. He should have been excited – and he was excited about seeing Arlet again. Remembering the words of the mage Jennalia, he couldn’t help but think he should be with Gavin, lending aid.

  “He has a terrible burden to bear, far greater than the promise he made.”

  The rushing sound of the Flint River grew louder. Risan reined in his mount as they crossed the bridge, and climbed down from the saddle. He looked over the rail into the water sweeping past below him. This was where it had all started. He looked down at his three-fingered hand. His claw. Had Gavin n
ot saved Arlet, this would never have happened. Two fingers was a small price to pay.

  “Risan?”

  He turned and looked up at the blond boy still sitting atop the horse, biting his lower lip. Risan smiled at the boy who was becoming his son. “You are ready to meet her?”

  Dwaeth nodded, but he didn’t look quite certain about it.

  Risan reached up and patted his ankle. “Arlet will love you. No need to worry.” He flung the reins over the horse’s ears and led the animal through Ambryce on foot. People stared at him as he passed, many smiling and nodding. Risan realized he was smiling too. He’d lost a tooth and a couple of fingers, but look at what he’d gained – a son, a king, and one hell of a story to tell his friends at the Red Eye.

  A fire crackled in the vast fireplace of the inn’s lobby. Daia was curled up in a large, stuffed chair staring, entranced, into the flame. She and her companions had taken possession of the Elegance Inn as a temporary palace, paying the innkeeper for all of his rooms and his silence with what money they had between them, and a messenger dispatched to the Lordover Lalorian with a request for more. Despite its name, it was not the most comfortable lodge in Tern, but it was more than acceptable to Gavin. He wanted the news of his claim to the throne kept as secret as possible until they could work out a plan for dealing with the demon Ritol.

  The task weighed heavily on her mind. If King Arek and his vast army couldn’t vanquish it, what chance did they have? Gavin, Daia, Edan – they did not have the knowledge that Arek and Ronor had. They knew nothing about this demon, or even about the runes, aside from what was in Ronor Kinshield’s letter. She couldn’t decide whether the letter was more of a help or a hindrance. On one hand, it warned them about what they would face when they entered the palace, and that knowledge was invaluable. On the other, it raised more questions than it answered.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  She craned her neck and saw Gavin, barefoot and bare-chested, coming down the stairs. Daia shook her head. “Too much on my mind.”

  “Me too,” he said. He pulled one of the velvet-covered chairs up beside her and sat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I need to talk to you about something that has nothing to do with the letter or the demon.”

  Daia swallowed. She hesitated to ask what it could be, fearing she already knew the answer.

  “Now that you got your problems ironed out with the Sisterhood, I’m guessing you’ll want to return to the compound and continue your life as before.”

  She scowled at him. “No, Gavin, I made a vow to you, and I intend to honor it.”

  He nodded. “I know, but I’m just saying if that’s what you prefer to do, I’d release you with no hard feelings.”

  “You don’t seem to understand,” she said. She turned so she could look directly into his eyes without straining her neck. “I told you that you won’t have to do this alone. If you don’t want my help, you’ll have to send me away. I won’t leave voluntarily.”

  His dark eyes deepened, and she felt his gentle touch with her mind. She took the connection firmly, intently, such that he wouldn’t doubt whether she would help him with whatever he asked, whenever he asked.

  “Good,” he said, pulling back his mental brush. “’Cause I need you. Not just your conduit gift, Daia. You. Your sword, your strength, your insight, your faith in me – you helped me find the courage to confront Ravenkind. Now I need you by my side to face what’s to come.” He took a deep breath. “Ever since I realized that being king is... something I got to do, I’ve wanted to ask you something. I’m not sure what the protocol is, so I’m just going to ask.”

  Oh crap, she thought. Here it comes. Her heart began to tick madly. “Gavin, wait. Before you say anything more, I have to tell you: I’m not well-suited for this. I gave up the opulence and ostentatiousness of nobility so that I could help people. And I want to help you, just not in that way.”

  He cocked his head. “What are you saying?”

  She rested a hand on his forearm, feeling the soft hair and the warmth of his skin. “I’m saying I’m not the right choice to be your wife and queen.”

  A smile crept over his face. He covered her hand with his own. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to marry me.”

  She jerked in surprise. “You’re not?” Her face tingled with embarrassment.

  His smile fell away as he shook his head slowly. He picked up her hand and gripped it as he would in a handshake. “Daia, I’m asking you to be my champion.”

  Read the conclusion of Gavin Kinshield’s adventure in The Wayfarer King, book two of the Kinshield Saga.

  The Wayfarer King

  Chapter 1

  He picked up her hand and gripped it as he would in a handshake. “Daia, I’m asking you to be my champion.”

  The smell of the crackling mesquite logs in the fireplace at the Elegance Inn filled Gavin Kinshield’s nose, and the flicker of the fire’s golden light on Daia’s face illuminated the shock in her gaping mouth and wide eyes. Gavin grinned, amused that she hadn’t anticipated the question. Wasn’t that what she wanted? She’d hinted as much in the days leading up to their journey to the Rune Cave and assumed the role in the three days since.

  Their relationship had been forged on the roads of Thendylath in search of a kidnapped blacksmith. It had been sharpened in the battle against Brodas Ravenkind for the sword, Aldras Gar, and for the King’s Blood-stone. Now it would be polished and wielded over a lifetime of battle and labor as he worked to rebuild the country as its new king. He’d received her pledge of fealty already, but this was different.

  Her hand tightened around his own. “Yes. With all my heart, yes.” Her voice quavered thickly. Her pale-blue eyes gleamed in the flickering light of the fire. “I would love nothing more, and I’m honored you asked.” Still gripping his hand, she went to one knee before him. “I, Daia Saberheart, daughter of Dashel Celónd, pledge my life to protect and serve you. As your champion, I offer this solemn vow: to take up arms and defend your health, your honor and your right to rule Thendylath. As I swear before my king, this service is yours for as long as I draw breath.”

  “Did you just make that up?”

  Letting go of his hand, Daia smiled as she retook her seat on the chair beside him. “Yes. Did you like it?”

  “It sounded very courtly.” Gavin breathed his relief. “Awright, that’s one thing off my mind. Now for the rest.”

  “What worries you more, the demon in the palace or Ravenkind?”

  Gavin ran his tongue over the gap where his right eyetooth used to be. Brodas Ravenkind, no doubt livid over losing the battle for the King’s Blood-stone, wanted Gavin dead, but monstrous beyonders invaded the realm of men every day, slaughtering innocent people, leaving orphans and widows and parents torn apart by grief. These were his people. Their safety was his first concern. “Ravenkind can wait. As long as Ritol’s imprisoned in the palace, the invasion will never end. I got to deal with Ritol first.”

  “We’ve got to. You’re not alone. Did your vision in Sohan give you any idea how to send it back?”

  It wasn’t a vision he’d had but an ancient memory. He knew that now, and he knew what he had to do. The notion of facing the most powerful of beyonders gave Gavin a chill. He stood and went to the fire to warm himself, but its heat did nothing to comfort him from the shuddersome thoughts roiling through his mind. “King Arek’s plan was to enter the beyonders’ realm and summon Ritol. He was going to take Ronor along to buy him time to find the vortex and return home, but for some reason, he abandoned the plan. He said it was flawed, but he didn’t tell me why. I think it was because he didn’t have you.”

  “But you do. What’s our plan? How are you supposed to find the vortex and summon Ritol?”

  Gavin returned to his seat. “Help me a second, will you?” He felt Daia’s mystical conduit-force connect with him. At once, his muscles felt stronger, his hearing sharper, his thoughts clearer. He let his mind drift two hundred yea
rs into the past when he was Ronor Kinshield, champion to King Arek, back to the moment he found the king in his private study, chiseling the runes into the tablet, infusing the five gems with his magic. Images and memories flooded his mind, images of the king lying broken and dying, the queen brutally slain in a cave, memories of the lordover’s comforting words assuring him they would devise a way to restore the monarchy.

  He pushed aside the haunting images and thought back to the times they’d traveled across the country. King Arek would sometimes stop, peer into the distance, then change course to find someplace that looked like any other place to Ronor’s eye. Then he would step through an invisible door into nothingness and come back hours or sometimes days later with stories of beings both terrifying and lofty. Somehow Gavin was supposed to know how to do that too.

  He released the connection with Daia and blinked, clearing away the images and settling his eyes back on the inn’s hearth. “King Arek used his magic to find the vortex. Guess I got to learn how, then go through it.”

  She nodded. “Do you have what you need to summon Ritol once we get through the vortex?”

  “Not yet. I need a Rune o’Summoning.” Ronor had never seen the rune, but he’d known there were two. King Arek had one, and Crigoth Sevae, the would-be usurper who’d summoned Ritol, had the other. “King Arek died in the palace with one in his possession. Sevae had the other, but I don’t remember where he lived, so I don’t know where to look for it.”

  “Remember?”

  Gavin realized she didn’t know he was Ronor Kinshield reborn because he hadn’t told her. That detail would stay his secret for now. Maybe forever. “Did I say remember? Anyway, maybe the curator at the museum in Ambryce has Sevae’s rune in his collection. I want Stronghammer to put the other two gems into the hilt o’my sword, anyway.” He’d been carrying the fourth and fifth gems from the Rune Tablet around with him and was eager to have them safely placed into the hilt so he wouldn’t lose them. “Let’s leave for Ambryce tomorrow.”