by A. J. Searle
Bruised skin bubbled and swelled beneath Ronan’s fingers, easing blood out onto his hand. Still, he continued forward, blocking out the pain that summoned attention. He had to get to Arien.
The sound of a horse approaching moments later caused Ronan to look up. Ahearn stopped in front of Ronan, breath blowing heavily from his nose. At first Ronan did not move. Had the horse heard his silent plea? Ahearn snorted as if in answer.
Fear suddenly leapt in Ronan’s throat. He didn’t stop to think, reaching to pull himself onto Ahearn’s back. His hand connected to the cool metal of the King’s Sword. It had gotten caught in the reins and held on. But where was Arien?
As he swung onto the horse, rage filled him. What if the boy was killed? Ronan bent forward as he’d seen Ula do when Ahearn headed back up the road in a full gallop. His fingers gripped the hilt of the sword, and he promised himself that he would cut off Bryan’s blond head if Arien had been killed.
“Faster,” Ronan growled and to his surprise Ahearn leaned into the run, forcing his legs to pump harder. Around the bend and the horse reared up as he halted. Ronan’s eyes were wide as they fell to Arien’s crumpled body. Keegan and Ula stood, surrounded by the centaurs while Sorcha, Dermot, and Keegan’s horses struggled to untie themselves from a tree.
Keegan brandished a sword and Ula gripped her mule rock ribbon, clearly ready to use it as a weapon if she was made to. She was murmuring something that Ronan could only guess was some kind of protective spell. He prayed that someone heard her voice. One of the centaurs was bleeding and he saw that Keegan’s sword showed evidence of a strike. They were doing all they could to protect Arien. Thick emotion tore through Ronan and pushed him to kick Ahearn forward, raising the sword.
“If you make me use this, I will be the next King of Meris and you can be sure the lives you live now will seem like that of royalty for I will make everyone of your kind into the kind of slaves you could not even imagine.” Ronan’s voice lifted, bounced off the trees around them with conviction. Every one of them looked at him as Ahearn neared.
“You are the blacksmith.” Bryan shifted his stance, staring at Ronan.
“I am also a royal guard and you may name me king in a few moments.” Ronan met Bryan’s eyes. “I am not like the boy. I do not bluff and I will kill the lot of you if I must.” Bryan’s blue eyes widened and Ronan could read easily that the centaur knew he spoke the truth. Ahearn pranced a little as if liking the prospect of a fight but neither Ronan’s gaze nor balance wavered.
“Not before we kill them first.” Bryan nodded to Arien and one of the centaurs lifted a hoof to hover above the boy’s head. Ronan knew Bryan saw his body stiffen. He hadn’t expected the man to use the boy against him. It had been stupid to think he wouldn’t.
“You made a mistake, blacksmith. You came back for those you cared for. It is true you have the weapon, but you give us one of our own to use. And we will use it.”
Bryan took a step forward when Ronan’s eyes darted to Arien. “This is not what I want. We are not a violent people. I can see that you are the same. Merisgale will not know that you gave the sword to me. They will think you were ambushed. The boy has injuries. They will not question your word. Go back to your forge and leave this to us.”
“I understand you more than you know, centaur, but I cannot do what you ask of me.” Ronan felt as if he were being torn. His heart pounded at the choice that was left to him. His hatred for the sword deepened.
“But no one need ever know what happens here,” Bryan insisted, stamping a hoof against the road and creating a cloud of dust. The movement brought Ahearn moving forward without Ronan’s command. But the horse did not charge and Ronan gave Ahearn’s reins a slight tug to remind him to wait.
“I will know.” Ronan’s eyes slid from Arien to rest on the centaur. “I did not want this obligation but it is mine. And those three are my responsibility as well. I was paid to make this sword for the wizard Thestian. The weapon belongs to him.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keegan’s head snap around. No doubt the horseman was surprised that Ronan had included him in those he would fight for. Ronan realized in that instant that Keegan had known the suspicion Ronan had felt toward him the day before. He would right his mistake. Keegan would know that Ronan would never doubt him again.
“Very well, blacksmith,” Bryan said sadly, looking back to the one who waited for command. “Do it.” Ula screamed.
It was a sound that Ronan was certain if one note higher would make a man’s ears bleed. And it stopped everyone, causing them to look at her. Her shoulders were squared, thrown back and her dark eyes looked like dangerous wells of evil. Overhead, the skies suddenly darkened, drew black clouds from every direction. Wind tore at the trees, bent them with little effort and for once Ronan saw the true power of the healer.
She had hidden this side of herself, allowing Ronan only to see her as a bothersome woman, perhaps even as mad. But Ula Baen was more than that and anyone who looked at her at this moment could see that fact clearly.
With flourish of her hand and without even looking in Arien’s direction, Ula’s tiny blade split through the air and planted in the neck of the centaur that hovered over the boy. For a moment the creature only stared at her, then staggered backward and fell into a muscled heap.
Thunder clapped and lightening forked from the sky as if it were by her will. It struck the ground only a few yards from where they stood. Ronan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the electric charge filled the air. Any moment, she would have the sky spitting ice at them!
“Get out of my way or I will take you out one by one.” Her voice didn’t even sound like her own. Ronan stared as the centaurs moved away from her so she could go to Arien. When she dropped to his side, the wind settled and the sky immediately cleared. It was as if her power had never been, which made it all the more frightening.
“You travel with those that hold the dark forces.” Bryan’s eyes swung to Ronan, widened with surprise and fear. “You mean to give the sword to Sleagan. You mean to give the power of the sword to someone who could do more damage than the wizard.”
Ronan shook his head. “I mean to give it to Thestian and no one else.” Ronan tore his eyes from Ula as she began chanting over Arien’s body. “And no centaur or crazed old woman is going to stop me.” His mind reeled but he forced his confusing thoughts into dark corners. He would save his questions for later. Desperately, he wished he could call to the dark skies as Ula had. He would then let those black depths just suck him up and out of this situation.
“But I will stop a bunch of centaurs.” Ula looked up at Bryan. “If I must I shall summon a demon to do it for me.”
Ronan watched the centaurs back further away. Obviously Ula knew a little more about the half beasts than Ronan. Her threat scared them much more than his.
“I do not believe you to be an evil man. Your eyes speak that to me. But you travel with one who would use the dark forces to get what she wants. I fear you will not reach your destination, blacksmith.” Bryan met Ronan’s gaze and for a moment, held it.
“He is to be addressed as Sir Culley.” Keegan’s voice caused Ronan to break the centaur’s connection to him and slanted a look at the horseman. There was no humor in the Keegan’s face only seriousness and respect. When had that happened?
Bryan nodded for the four remaining centaurs and they hefted up their dead comrade. A jerk of his head commanded them to back away. Slowly they did and Ronan said nothing as he watched them leave. When they were gone, he looked down at Ula while Keegan untied the horses.
Ronan slid from Ahearn’s back and stepped toward Arien. His throat felt dry and he clutched the King’s Sword, ready to go after the centaurs if the boy’s life had been taken. Ula looked up at Ronan as he knelt at her side. She touched his arm but Ronan had to ask. He had to know if he had failed the boy.
“Is he…dead?”
Four
Ronan’s eyelids dipped an
d then closed, but only for a moment before they flew back open. No, he couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t. Not when Arien was so close to death. Ula had longed ceased her chanting and Keegan had even settled down to rest. Ronan stayed awake, watching over his young apprentice.
He stretched, moved around by throwing more wood to the fire. It wasn’t cold but the heat of the fire gave him something to focus on. He picked up a stick and poked at the wood in its heated depths. Then he tossed the stick into the flames.
Restlessness ached in Ronan’s bones. He kicked at the dirt, fussed with his clothes, stared out at the trees trying to see into the darkness that surrounded them. He had to keep his attention on something, anything that would keep him from falling asleep. He tried to think of his home, of metal in fire but his thoughts just returned to the boy.
The memory of his Arien’s big smile when Ronan would compliment him on his work flickered in and out of Ronan’s thoughts. He’d wanted Ronan’s approval so badly. He’s worked hard for it.
“Live,” Ronan whispered in a low, desperate voice as he ran a hand over his face and scratched at his beard. He was tired. The others slept but Ronan knew the centaurs were not really gone. They were just out of sight. He remembered the determination in Bryan’s eyes. Ula had spooked him but the centaur would not give up so easily. He would summon his courage and come at them again.
The two of them were not so different, Ronan decided. He and the centaur shared the same kind of hollow in their chests, the kind left by losing someone they loved.
Ronan’s thoughts drifted to his mother. If there had been a way for Ronan to save her, he would have. He’d have done whatever it took. At fifteen he wasn’t the man he was now. At fifteen, he’d only wept and held her hand, watched her die. Before that moment he’d not cared of being a blacksmith. It was what his mother had chosen for him. No, he’d wanted a more noble life, the kind that came with power and recognition. He’d been a boy of dreams, none of which had saved his mother from the grips of death.
Arien wasn’t going to die. “Live,” Ronan said again fiercely. He realized that he’d grown to love the boy in the short time he’d been with him. He was his family. So were Keegan and Ula in a way. That fact hit him hard in the chest. He remembered how angry he’d been when he’d seen them surrounded by the centaurs. It had been an anger that scared him. And he’d been ready to use the King’s Sword. If he had used the weapon he would have knowingly sealed his fate, an ugly one that Ronan did not want.
How had he become this person? He was a man who now had feelings for mere strangers in only a few days when he’d lived most of his life alone. And Ula bothered him most of all. He’d seen her shrouded in darkness, wielding it as dangerously as Keegan had his sword. Yet, Ronan could not find it in his heart to push her out.
Bryan had said she used the dark forces. The centaur was probably right. Ronan had never witnessed anything so frightening. But she had tried to save Arien. She had risked her own life to try to save him. She had the courage of a youth in her old body. There was something good in that, something honorable and right. And Ronan couldn’t ignore that.
Ronan rose from Arien’s side, walked around them trying to clear his mind. As if sensing his restlessness, Sorcha neared, nuzzled his arm with her nose. He smiled as he rubbed the hair between her ears. The horses had been just as brave. Dermot had changed as drastically as his rider. Usually he was the one who stayed behind but when Ula had ridden after Arien, he’d become a powerful animal as driven as the others.
Ronan frowned as he remembered Sorcha tied to the tree. She’d nearly split her mouth open trying to pull free while Dermot had just worked to loosen the knots that held them.
“Never again.” He whispered. “I’ll never let anyone do that to you again.” She nuzzled his cheek, erasing his frown.
His gaze drifted to Ahearn. “I thought you were supposed to choose your rider.” Ronan watched the horse paw at the ground, thinking he looked as if he was shuffling with embarrassment. “You came back for me. You are supposed to be devoted to that boy.” Ahearn neighed lightly causing Ronan to smile. He liked the damned horse. He couldn’t help it.
“Well I am grateful you had a bit of tenderness in that big body of yours.” Ronan reached over and touched the beast. “Grateful and indebted.” Ahearn snorted, and then leaned his head closer so Ronan could scratch his ears.
“Keep it up and I’ll put myself in debt to buy all three of you.” Ronan smiled when Ahearn neighed softly again. He stayed with the animals a minute more then returned to Arien’s side.
“Come on, boy, fight for it,” He encouraged softly. If it were possible he’d take the boy’s place. Arien was too young to die, had too much spirit to fade. If there were any way, he would make the healer use his life to save the boy’s.
“He’ll make it,” Keegan’s deep voice drifted sleepily from across the fire. Ronan looked up but the horseman didn’t rise.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Keegan grunted. “I was. But you were jabbering at my horses and woke me up.”
Ronan grinned. “I’ll remember to keep my voice lower so you can get your beauty sleep.” He heard Keegan’s chuckle. So the man did have sense of humor.
“I do need all the help I can get. You could use a little yourself.” Keegan rolled to his side and it was Ronan’s turn to chuckle. They both grew quiet. Moments later the horseman’s breathing deepened and he began to snore.
Ronan looked at each of them. This is what he had chosen for himself by accepting the sword as his responsibility. Three people, each one so very different from the others, who had come together in a moment of danger.
“Sir Culley?” Arien’s voice found him close to dawn and Ronan wanted to weep with relief. Instead, he knelt at the boy’s side and offered him a smile of approval.
“I knew you were made of something stronger than those centaurs. No apprentice of mine would be done in by a horse with arms.” Ronan was pleased with the weak smile that found Arien’s lips.
“I was stupid.”
“Yes.” Ronan nodded and reached forward to muss the boy’s hair. “But bravely so and you were punished enough for it. Just don’t ever do it again.” Ronan didn’t think he could take it if he did.
“I won’t,” Arien promised. “I hope I didn’t set us back from reaching Fullerk too badly.”
“We’ll make it there today.” Ronan helped the boy when he struggled to sit. “Or tomorrow. There is no rush.” Arien’s hand clamped onto Ronan’s arm and with his help, the apprentice stood up on shaky legs.
“I can ride,” Arien insisted as Keegan roused from sleep. He sat up, stretched, and looked up at the boy.
“Ula was right. Despite your stupidity you will live.” The horseman reached over and shook the healer’s shoulder lightly. “The idiot is awake and moving around.” Ula rose and beamed at the boy. She reached out and gave his hand a pat as if Arien had done something remarkable.
“You realize you could be dead right now. Why did you ride off like you did?” Keegan demanded saving Ronan from having to grill the boy about what prompted his actions.
“Ahearn and I agreed that we should protect Sir Culley,” Arien answered.
“You agreed? And how did you manage that?” Keegan crossed his arms but Ronan was looking at the horse the boy spoke of. He remembered how Ahearn had come to him, as if the animal had read his thoughts. Perhaps Ahearn had more magic gifts that Keegan Yore knew of.
“It was just an understanding,” Arien offered the explanation with a shrug.
“But more important than that,” Ronan interrupted before Keegan could question the boy further, turning to face Ula. “Exactly where does your loyalty lay? That was some display of power, woman. One that you hid from us.”
Ula met his gaze. “I want the sword to go to Merisgale just as you do.” Her eyes spoke sincerity but Ronan had to be certain.
“But that which you did teetered closely on the verge of dark magic.”
Ronan would not allow her to slip past the question. “Speak honestly with me now or I will leave you here.”
Ula’s shoulder’s drooped and she suddenly looked defeated. “I did not wish to tell you. I feared you would not believe me. I am able to use both magics…”
“Like a wizard?” Ronan pressed. Part of him wished to offer the woman encouragement but he knew it was time for the truth, to answer the questions that had filled both his and Keegan’s minds.
“Or like a demon,” Keegan added.
“Like someone with a choice. I have made mine. Yesterday was merely a show; something to throw off those that hurt the boy. I feared he would die if I did not get to him soon enough.”
“You did not use the magic of the dark forces?” Ronan crossed his arms and Ula winced.
“Perhaps just a bit of it for the effect. But you need not fear me, Ronan Culley. I do not want the sword to go anywhere but to the wizard who is to be our King.”
“Sir Culley,” Arien corrected and she nodded.
“Sir Culley,” she amended.
Ronan studied her for a long moment, considering her words. If she had wanted the sword, she could have taken it at any time. Any of them could have. And she had saved Arien. Finally, he nodded that he was satisfied with her words. He knew about secrets, especially ones that could bring others to judge a person. She’d been protecting herself. He could not slight her for defending herself.
“Keep that darkness of yours under control. I warn you, witch. Or I will do what I must.” Ronan watched her bow her head in submission to his command.
“And what do we do about the centaurs?” Keegan asked and the other two looked at Ronan expectantly. So they had slept knowing that the enemy was still close, trusting the blacksmith to care for them. And the horseman was not going to argue with his decision to keep Ula with them. He said he did not follow but Ronan had noticed he was doing so more and more.
It wasn’t right, Ronan thought to himself as he looked at each of them. He was no leader. Keegan was more equipped to lead. Ronan made weapons so that people like Keegan Yore could wield them. But Ronan had been ready to use the King’s Sword if had to protect them. That fact had itched at Ronan’s mind during the night. The truth, one that he had vowed never to admit aloud, was that he had been angry when Arien swiped the sword. It had felt like something that was his had been taken.
