Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (21 page)

Danielle’s blood drained from her face as she watched her friend die. Her mind raced with panic, and her instinct told her to run away fast. Then she remembered the book. Danielle dropped the book onto the lectern, but the skeletons kept charging forward. Whatever she’d started by picking up the book, opened a one-way door that she couldn’t close.

Arber shifted into a red-backed river gorilla and swung a muscled arm at a robed skeleton stretching its bony finger toward him. His meaty gorilla hand crashed into its rib cage, and the skeleton burst apart disintegrating into a thousand splintered bone fragments.

Danielle grabbed seeds from her pouch and flung them beneath two skeletons surrounded by the black mist. She forced magic through them, and they burst forth twisting upward toward the skeletal warriors.

When the spiked vines touched the black mist they recoiled refusing to enter.

Icy fear ran along her spine as she watched horror stricken at her useless power. She commanded the vines to enter the mist, but they refused her best effort.

Brendyn’s living armor spread across his body. “Danielle, your staff. Use the heartwood!”

As Danielle’s armor solidified around her body, she readied her staff. She sent flows of magic coursing through its amber grains unleashing its unique properties. The heartwood twisted in Danielle’s hand racing toward the dark mist of the nearest skeleton. The gold and silver grains inlaid in the wood shone with an intensity she’d never seen.

The heartwood battered the dark aura surrounding the oncoming skeleton, but the mist retreated refusing to touch the beacon of life. The staff’s liquid-like tip smashed the skeletons head like a hammer on an anvil, and battered bones flew in a thousand directions ricocheting against the far wall.

Without Danielle’s prompting the heartwood tore into the skeletons rib cage, spine, and legs tearing it to tiny bone fragments that bounced like marbles off the stone floor.

Flesh knitted around the bones of the skeleton that held Alana frozen in place while her flesh withered and sagged inward. Her face collapsed while her skin shriveled to the bones of her hands and arms. As the skeleton drained her life force, eyes formed in its skull, and flesh grew around its hands and arms.

Alana’s eyes bulged, and her body caved inward like a rotten pumpkin. Shard energy flowed away from her gathering in a single point before re-forming as a dark green shard.

Alana’s lifeless remains dropped to the ground while the skeleton touching her formed a beating heart nestled in its half-covered rib cage. New flesh formed on its legs and torso partially covering its skeletal frame. The grotesque creature whirled in surprise and found the waiting jaws of Keely shifted into a saber-toothed forest jaguar.

With a violent side-to-side shake of her jaws, Keely ripped the arm from the creature’s body. She pounced on the half-formed corpse tearing it to bloody ribbons. Blood dripped from Keely’s protruding saber teeth amid a mass of torn flesh and broken bones.

“Keely! Jump!” Danielle said as she finished off the second skeleton with her staff.

A dark misted warrior lifted its blade behind Keely and charged, but Brendyn's heartwood staff connected in time sending its bones skittering like hail on a frozen pond.

Arber bounded across the stone floor and slammed into the last skeleton sending bits of bone fragments skittering.

Amid the silence, Danielle released her armor, and surveyed the damage.

Two crew members lay dead with glowing shards on the floor near their bodies.

She knelt next to Alana and hung her head. “I’m sorry Alana.”

“I’ll add this escapade to the Assembly’s report. You’ve mismanaged this entire expedition from the start,” Brendyn said.

“Shut up Brendyn!” Keely shifted into human form. “This isn’t the time to start throwing accusations and playing political games. We need to work together.”

Arber shifted into human form and knelt before Maura. Tears filled the old guardian’s eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough old friend. I’ll hold your vigil in the Heartwood.”

“Danielle, we need to secure their shards. Can you carry Alana’s?” Keely said.

Danielle nodded. “Yes. I’ll carry it.” She scooped up Alana’s shard and held it near her staff. The staff turned liquid, opened, and surrounded the shard before sealing shut.

“I’ll hold Maura’s. I’m not letting her keep two valuable shards,” Brendyn picked up Maura’s shard and secured it with his staff.

“Brendyn, I’d like to remind you that conflict serves to weaken the group,” Arber said. “Danielle didn’t act alone. You voted to open the book. Remember?”

Brendyn’s face flushed. “I’d change my vote now.”

“And you think Danielle wouldn’t?” Arber said.

“As the team leader, she should’ve known better,” Brendyn said.

“It’s fine Arber. He has a right to speak his mind,” Danielle said. “I accept responsibility.”

“I’ll hold the book.” Arber said.

“Don’t touch it Arber.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended. “We’ll leave the book here and send a full crew for it after we return to the Heartwood,” Danielle said.

“We need to secure Maura and Alana until we can recover them,” Arber said.

Danielle nodded. “Yes, but we’ll not leave them surrounded by this horror. Let’s carry them into the cave.”

Danielle and Keely picked up Alana while Arber and Brendyn carried Maura. They left the book room and carried their friends’ remains into the small cave.

As she entered the chilly cave, Danielle froze in astonishment. Her day had taken a marked turn for the worse.

At the cave entrance, six shard knights, surrounded by spheres of pulsing blue light, glanced toward her at the same time. Two more knights entered through the shredded lattice work of vines at the cave entrance.

Beyond the company of knights, bright sunshine blazed through a brilliant blue sky.

The Last Resort

“Damn!” Tyrell said.

A half mile away the tiny village of Winter Haven reached out a welcoming embrace. Beyond the village, on the muddy lane leading upward through the pass, a dozen tents sat arranged with military precision. The Meranthian flag flapped in the stiff breeze from the small camp’s flagpole, and several columns of smoke curled into the afternoon sky.

Ronan’s stomach sank. “Roadblock.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Tyrell said.

“We’ll turn back,” Ronan said.

“No. It’s too late for that,” Tyrell said.

Ronan whirled on Tyrell. “It’s too late? We can’t enter Winter Haven with the army stationed there.”

“Stay calm Ronan, and keep Betty moving toward Winter Haven. I’ll explain.”

Ronan tugged on the reigns. “Come on girl.”

Betty, his chestnut mare, walked up the mud covered mountain road.

Reggie, Tyrell’s stallion, pulled even with Betty snorting his satisfaction. “At least two shard knights will command that company. If we can see them, they can see us. If we turn around, we’ll draw their attention. We’ll stop at the village inn and see if Monsieur Marez has any useful information.”

Dread and relief battled for supremacy in Ronan’s gut. Weak-kneed he gripped his saddle to keep from falling.

Winter Haven consisted of a blacksmith’s shop, a quaint inn, and a smattering of thatch-roofed cottages.

Ronan guided Betty to the hitching post outside the inn. He gave thanks to Elan for the crisp autumn-like day and pulled tight on his black hood. If shard knights commanded the soldiers near the pass, they’d have to come inside the inn to see his face.

Tyrell dismounted Reggie, secured him next to Betty on the hitching post, and crossed the short distance to the inn’s entrance. The sign hanging above the door read
The Last Resort
.

The aroma of hot cinnamon bread and the warmth from a crackling fire lifted Ronan’s spirits as he entered the inn.

A short round-faced innkeeper swept the already spotless floor. His eyes went wide, and a friendly smile lit his sun-drenched skin when her recognized Tyrell. He set the broom aside and scurried across the room spreading his arms wide. “Ah, Monsieur Tyrell. It’s wonderful to see you. It’s been far too long.”

Tyrell clasped the innkeepers extended hand, and a warm smile stretched across his face. “It’s good to see you too Monsieur Marez.” Tyrell gestured toward Ronan. “I’d like to introduce you to my apprentice, Ronan.”

The bald innkeeper’s eyes went wide with delight. He opened his arms and embraced Ronan in a bear hug. “Please call me Jacques. Welcome to my inn Ronan.” He released Ronan and glanced toward Tyrell. “This is the boy you mentioned during your last trip through Winter Haven? You found him?” Marez said with a heavy Ayralen accent.

Tyrell’s smile broadened to include the creases around his eyes. “Yes Jacques. I found him.”

Ronan pulled back his hood and relaxed. “Thank you for the warm welcome. It’s good to see a friendly face.”

Monsieur Marez’s mouth dropped open, and he gasped. “Monsieur Tyrell, you didn’t tell me the boy was Ayralen! But, he sounds like you!” He turned wide eyes on Ronan. “I so miss the Heartwood. Tell me, have the leaves changed color yet?”

“I’ve heard that I look Ayralen Monsieur Ma-, I mean, Jacques, but I’m Meranthian. I grew up here,” Ronan said.

Bewilderment speckled Monsieur Marez’s expression. “You must excuse me Monsieur. I see so few Ayralens, and I miss the Heartwood. I thought…well…never mind.” He motioned toward a smooth round table near the hearth. “Please, come in and relax. Let me bring you some food.” Monsieur Marez rushed off and disappeared through a swinging door behind a polished bar made from a stunning redwood streaked with traces of gold and silver.

Tyrell caught Ronan staring at the bar. “It’s heartwood. It’s native to Ayralen. The warden’s council must grant permission before the smallest piece can leave their country. Monsieur Marez has important friends back in the Heartwood.”

“Rika’s told me stories about the Heartwood.”

Monsieur Marez backed through the swinging door carrying a tray laden with food enough to feed the entire company of soldiers stationed up the hill. As if reading their expressions he said, “You look hungry, and you never know when you’ll eat again.”

Ronan’s mouth watered, and his stomach growled as Monsieur Marez arrayed the feast on the table near the hearth.

Monsieur Marez unloaded roast beef, warm buttered rolls, goat cheese, and baked cinnamon apples. He spread the dishes across the polished round table. “Eat. Don’t be shy.” He placed the empty tray on a nearby table and sat with Ronan and Tyrell.

“Jacques, what do you know about the king’s soldiers camped near the pass?” Tyrell said as he dug into the stew.

Monsieur Marez grimaced. “Please, don’t get me started with those soldiers. They come in here and eat and drink, and they don’t pay me a single copper penny.”

“Why don’t they leave?” Ronan said between bites of bread.

“They tell me nothing, but they’re searching for someone I think. I see them searching wagons and talking to every person traveling the pass.”

“Have you seen the officers? Who’s in charge?” Tyrell said.

Monsieur Marez’s brow furrowed, and he stared upward with a look of concentration. “I don’t know which soldier’s in charge. He’s a big blond brute and wears strange armor. A second soldier wears the same armor, but he takes orders from the blond man.”

“Did they give their names?” Tyrell said.

“I don’t remember their names. They’ve come inside my inn a few times. They use mean words,” Monsieur Marez said.

On cue, the door swung inward, and a pair of shard knights stepped inside. Strapped to the battle knight’s shoulders the jeweled pommel of a shard blade glittered in the inn’s warm glow. A shield knight came in behind but carried no weapon and wore a thin layer of chain mail. Emblazoned on the knights’ breastplates, the tell-tale crest of the Order gave notice of their station.

The battle knight’s spiked blond hair and smug smile gave him away.

Ronan’s stomach sank as he laid eyes on Bryson Slater. He didn’t know how Bryson managed to find a shard during the last few weeks, but he could hazard a guess. Ronan shifted his chair angling his back to the knights.

Bryson staggered toward the heartwood bar and plopped onto a barstool. The second knight gave Ronan and Tyrell a sideways glance as he took measured steps across the inn before settling onto the stool beside Bryson.

“Barkeep! We needs ale now.” Bryson glared at Monsieur Marez from behind a pair of bleary blood-shot eyes, and he swayed on the stool.

Monsieur Marez jumped from his seat and scurried behind the bar to fill the order.

Ronan prayed Bryson didn’t recognize him or Tyrell. He had a full beard when he’d last seen Bryson at Lord Randal’s manor, and the hood Ronan wore shadowed his face. The layers of grime from weeks spent traveling with Tyrell completed the disguise. As he chewed on a warm roll, Ronan channeled his power and listened in on the knights’ conversation.

“What do you think Bryson?” The shield knight said. “The younger one looks Ayralen.”

Bryson took a long drink of his ale wiping the foam from his upper lip. “I think this is some damn fine ale. I swear to Elan it’s good, but I’m afraid to know how that fat little barkeep makes it.” His words came out slurred.