Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (47 page)

“Perhaps you can bring me up to speed,” Finn said. “One thing we have plenty of is time.”

Ronan spent the next hour recounting his adventures beginning with the shard tournament five years ago. Finn interjected with the occasional question or nod when Ronan detailed a specific point. He skipped retelling his magical night with Rika beneath the Golden Tap. Somehow, he didn’t think Finn needed that piece of information.

“And that’s how I wound up here,” Ronan said.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that Merric Pride is very much Ayralen.”

Ronan nodded. “And he’ll deny it to his dying breath.”

“What’s more interesting is the identity of his parents.”

Ronan’s jaw dropped open, and he stared slack-jawed at Finn. “You knew his parents?”

Finn nodded. “I knew his mother. I tried to speak to him about it upon my arrival in Meranthia, but he was rather quick to change the subject. And, as you can see,” he waved his hand around the dreary cell, “he didn’t care for the rest of what I had to say either.”

“Rika told me you were at the southern camp. How did you find your way to Freehold?”

“They brought me here with Arber and Brendyn. I suspect they wanted to draw you into Freehold. As much as Pride dislikes me, he finds me useful. He pries me for information from time to time.”

“Why would Arber turn his back on Ayralen? Danielle told me he grew up with Connal Deveaux. She trusted him completely.”

“I can’t answer that.” Finn’s brow furrowed, and he scratched his head. “Arber had high hopes of becoming Prime Guardian years ago but stepped aside when it became clear Connal carried the votes. Revenge? Power? I can’t say for certain. Only Arber can answer that.”

Ronan licked his dry cracked lips. “Would you mind telling me the identity of Pride’s parents?”

Finn released a long sigh. “Are you sure you want to know this information? It may be unpleasant.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “Unpleasant? For me?” He nodded. “Yes, I’d like to know. Besides, my circumstance can’t get any worse.”

Finn pursed his lips and nodded. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He leaned forward. “This information came to me from my aunt shortly before Rika and I arrived in Meranthia. She thought the information might prove useful one day. My aunt grew up with the woman that gave birth to Merric Pride. Her name is Cecily. Cecily Turpin.”

Ronan mulled the name over in his head, but came up blank. “That name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“No, I don’t imagine it would. Cecily apprenticed under a master bowyer in the Heartwood. She was a beautiful girl, and the bowyer hired her to sell his wares to Meranthian guardsmen at Elan’s Gap. On one particular trip Cecily went without the bowyer. The guardsmen took her captive and tried to rape her inside the barracks. The fort’s captain discovered the offense and protected Cecily before they could hurt her. Cecily believed the captain would send her back to the Heartwood, but he had other plans. He placed her on the first wagon back to Freehold.”

Ronan shut his eyes and braced himself. He had a good idea how the story would end, but he held his tongue. “Go on.”

Finn cleared his throat. “The captain had Cecily transported to the palace where the royal guard held her captive in a maid’s living quarters. The staff treated her well despite her imprisonment. Until the day your grandfather, King Torr, came back from his sabbatical in Prynesse. As soon as he entered her room, Cecily knew from the look in his eye why the captain had sent her to the palace. King Torr raped her. Repeatedly.”

Ronan nodded as Finn confirmed his suspicion. He’d heard rumors swirl around his grandfather’s infatuation with young Ayralen women. How many bastards had his grandfather sired? “Which means Merric Pride is my uncle.” He let go a short hard laugh and shook his head.

“By blood only,” Finn said.

“Does he know?” Ronan said.

“He knew his mother, but didn’t want to hear anything I had to say,” Finn said. “Torr sent Cecily back to Ayralen after he’d finished with her. When she returned to the Heartwood, she gave birth to Merric eight months later.”

“How did he get his last name?” Ronan said.

“I don’t know. My aunt didn’t have that information. He received that name after Cecily snuck him into Meranthia.”

“Why would she come back to Meranthia? Torr Latimer was a monster. That trip was suicide,” Ronan said.

“She knew that. But, she loved Merric and wanted to give him a chance to know his father no matter the risk.”

“What happened after that?”

“My aunt never heard from Cecily again. She never returned to the Heartwood. I’m glad she didn’t live to see the monster her son grew into.”

“He’s a chip off the old block,” Ronan said. “Or so I’m told. I never knew my grandfather, but my mother told me plenty of stories.”

The distant sound of a slamming door cut short their conversation. Heavy footsteps echoed along the stone corridor growing louder by the second.

Ronan braced himself for further beatings. He stared downward as the key worked the cell’s lock, and the door creaked open. “Haven’t you people taken enough from me? Kill me or get out.”

“I haven’t come to kill you Your Majesty,” the hushed voice said.

The words sent a chilled tingle running along Ronan’s spine. He stared into the face of a young shield knight standing in his cell. He knew this man. “You’re the knight from Winter Haven. It’s Jeremy isn’t it?”

“Yes Your Majesty. That’s right.”

Ronan chuckled. “I guess you didn’t hear the news. I’ve been stripped of my crown, my magic, my family, and my friends. I’m as good as dead, and you’re risking you’re life standing here talking to me. There’s no need to treat me as anything more than a criminal.”

Jeremy shifted his stance. Commander Tyrell never told you?”

“Told me? Told me what?”

“I was Commander Tyrell’s last man in the citadel.”

Ronan recalled the confrontation at Winter Haven. “The shield surrounding Kelwin…”

“I made that shield as weak as I could,” Jeremy said. “I knew Commander Tyrell would’ve stepped in had that gone differently.”

“And at North Camp with my sister.”

“I held her until Pride left the room. She could’ve killed me, but somehow I knew she wouldn’t.”

Ronan’s heart sank as his thoughts lingered on his sister. Danielle would share his mother’s fate. “My sister…” The words left his lips in a whisper.

“I know what Merric Pride did to the Queen. He murdered her in cold blood. I vow to protect the princess from the same fate.” Jeremy dropped to one knee and bowed his head before Ronan. “I swear my oath of fealty to you King Ronan Latimer and promise to serve you so long as I hold breath. In Elan’s name I swear.”

Ronan stared agape at the knight bowing before him. Despite all odds, Jeremy remained hopeful. Ronan’s cheeks flushed, and he nodded. “I accept your oath Knight Jeremy. Rise.”

Jeremy stood. “We don’t have much time Your Majesty. I -“

Ronan held up a hand. “Jeremy, there’s no need to add ‘Your Majesty’ at the end of every sentence. It’ll speed up the conversation.”

Jeremy blushed. “Yes Your Majesty…that is yes, sir,” he said. “Merric Pride plans to send you into the arena. You’re to face Knight Bryson in single combat.”

Ronan nodded. “So that’s how Pride wants it to end? How fitting.”

“Yes, sir. But I doubt Bryson will use all his strength right away or he’d kill you in the fight’s first few seconds. Pride will want to see you humiliated first.”

“Thanks Jeremy. You really know how to comfort a guy.”

Jeremy blushed. “I’m sorry, I -“

Ronan chuckled. “I’m joking. Go ahead.”

“I can surround you with a thin invisible shield. It’s flexible and will hover just above your skin. It should soften Bryson’s first blows, but it won’t last long against a battle knight’s full power. It might give you a chance.”

Ronan nodded. “That helps. Thank you.”

Jeremy stretched out a hand, and a shimmer of blue light shrouded Ronan before vanishing. “One more thing, Pride has demanded Freehold’s citizens to attend the match. He plans on making an announcement and wants the citizenry to bear witness.”

The citadel’s dungeon door creaked open. “Knight Jeremy, your time’s up!” The guard’s voice echoed across the dark putrid dungeon.

Jeremy bowed. “May Elan grace you this day Your Majesty.” He closed the cell door and left the dungeon.

Ronan sank onto the iron bench. “James, if you make it out of here and I don’t, could you tell Rika I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. Tell her…,” Ronan’s gaze drifted. “Tell her I love her.”

Finn opened his mouth as if to argue but stopped. He placed a warm hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “I’ll tell her Ronan.”

“Thanks. I’m tired. I hope you don’t mind if I sleep. I can see her in my dreams for a little longer.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cold stone wall before sleep took him.

Twisted Fate

Overwhelming heat pressed against Ronan’s half-naked flesh.

The musty odor of hot sand and dry piss-stained straw nauseated him. He’d lived out this nightmarish scene during another man’s life, but, this time, he harbored no illusions about the result. Straw crunched under his sandaled feet as he stopped before the heavy iron gate that led to the sun-streaked arena floor.

The summer afternoon heat had increased the holding pen’s temperature by fifty degrees, and Ronan’s heavily muscled chest glistened with sweat. The guards had provided him nothing more than leather sandals and a fringed leather kilt to cover his groin.

He ran his fingertips along the smattering of scars beneath his ribs and touched the wounds Danielle had treated after their escape from North Camp.

His chest tightened as a wave of sadness caught him off guard. He’d not experienced the loss of a family member since his mother’s death, but the pain returned fresh and raw.

He never got a chance to say good-bye to his sister who’d risked everything to find him. Ronan would never meet the father he’d always dreamed about. He wondered how he’d cope with losing two children on the same day and shuddered. Connal Deveaux would experience those fresh pains soon enough.

A spear’s haft ground into Ronan’s lower back pushing him forward. “Any time now, that gate will open, and you’d better run into that arena if you don’t want five spears in your back. You understand me boy!”

Ronan nodded but ignored the threat. He’d enter the arena and roll the dice. He had nothing left to lose.

Five armored guardsmen held their spears in a loose semi-circle behind Ronan and crowded him toward the gate.

Ronan stepped forward just inches from the iron bars. Scorching sunlight beat down on his face and chest. For the first time in half a decade, Freehold’s citizens beheld their prince.

A thunderous boom of cheering voices rang out when the spectators saw the former prince ready to enter the arena. Until today, Meranthian citizens believed him dead, and the arena’s available seating had moved beyond capacity. Spectators filled open space in stairways leading from the arena floor to the coliseum’s top row. A mass of people stuffed every inch of the massive archways leading into the coliseum smashed together like flies resting atop a dung heap. Scuffles between citizens jockeying for position broke out as guardsmen struggled to gain control. Even Freehold’s wealthiest citizens clawed to catch a brief glimpse of the captured prince. Pride had even allowed citizens to cram every open spot just beyond the arena walls stacked ten deep.

Ronan held his breath as he gazed across the coliseum stunned by the sheer volume of spectators. Even his own tainted victory hadn’t drawn such a crowd. “I don’t understand. Why are so many people here?”

“They’ve come to watch you die traitor. News came out yesterday that you’d helped Commander Tyrell plan the queen’s death. I wish I could sink my spear into you right now. I hope your mother, Elan save her soul, is watching from His paradise, and can watch you die,” the guardsman said.

The promise of blood lust had left the crowd frenzied as thousands stomped in unison pounding the wooden bleachers like drumbeats on a battlefield. If Pride let this continue, the crowd would rip apart the coliseum.

The heavy iron gate squealed and creaked open.

A fresh idea sparked in Ronan’s mind. Maybe he could use this blood lust.

“Go!” The guardsman said and shoved Ronan’s sore shoulder.

He stumbled beneath the rising gate and rolled onto the arena’s burning sand. Ignoring the hot sand caked to his sweat soaked body, he rotated gaping at the hundred and fifty thousand people booming as one voice.

The deafening noise reached fever pitch as Ronan’s gaze settled over them. The masses craved his blood and the death to follow. They cheered for his destruction.

Ronan’s eardrums rang, and his skin vibrated from the overwhelming cacophony surrounding him.

At the coliseum’s far end, Merric Pride reclined in the royal box like he hadn’t a care in the world. A half-dozen shard knights surrounded Pride with more royal guardsmen beyond them. Among the shard knights, Jeremy sat one row behind Danielle.