Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (27 page)

Pride guided Lord Randal toward the dais. “Let’s open it and take a look shall we?” Pride patted the top of the oak lectern. “Set it atop the pulpit.”

Lord Randal placed the book where directed and stepped backward. He faced the king and using words dripping with reverence and solemnity bowed and said, “Your Majesty, Elan’s Book of Order awaits your holy ministration.”

Pride stepped forward and gazed awestruck at the book before him. He ran a trembling hand over the wooden cover. “With this book, I can restore Elan’s glory. I can feel Him guiding me.”

Lord Randal folded his hands in prayer lifting them to touch the tip of his nose. “In Elan’s name be praised Your Majesty.”

Pride opened the book’s cover, and his head spun. He gazed horror stricken at a drawing depicting Elan smiling at Lora. His mind went numb with shock unable to believe the reality that lay before him. Blood drained from his face, and the room dimmed behind blurred vision. He grabbed hold of the pulpit bracing himself from collapse.

Lord Randal rushed to the king’s side and grabbed Pride’s shoulders holding him steady. “Your Majesty. Should I fetch a healer?”

Pride pulled in sharp ragged breaths, and hot saliva welled up from the back of his constricted throat. “How dare you mock me!” He struggled to choke the words from his dry mouth.

Lord Randal’s face went ashen as a look of terror rippled across his face. He shook his head. “No Your Majesty. I can assure you it’s no joke. I would never try to fool you.”

Flashes of red rage cascaded behind Pride’s eyes like a burst damn after a spring flood. “You blasphemous weasel! How dare you suggest this…whore would sit in Elan’s presence!” Spittle flew from his dry mouth as he gestured toward the image of Elan and Lora clasping hands. “Remove this filth from Elan’s holy place of worship! I want it burned. Nobody can see that filthy book of lies. Do you understand me Niles?”

Lord Randal’s mouth opened wide as droplets of Pride’s spittle oozed from his short gray beard. “Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider. The book could reveal a treasure trove of lost knowledge. Ancient secrets of life, death, and powerful magic lay within these pages.”

“It contains a wealth of lies Lord Randal and could destroy Meranthian culture forever.” Pride turned his back on Randal and felt the hideous book mock him.

Lord Randal gripped his handkerchief and dabbed the spittle from his nose and beard. “Yes Your Majesty. But no one need discover the book. Once we learn its secrets, we’ll destroy it.”

“Can you read the text? I don’t recognize any of those words,” Pride said.

“I can’t read the book Your Majesty, but I’m confident, given time, I can have it translated. With Elan’s magic restored, you can rule in a way even Elan couldn’t imagine,” Lord Randal said.

Pride closed his eyes and forced calm soothing breaths into his lungs. Niles could’ve stumbled on the right conclusion. He’d achieve greatness his predecessor’s had never dreamed possible. The book could give him immortality. “I want you alone working on the translation. I’ll expect a daily report, and the moment you’ve translated the book, I’ll watch it burn by my own hand.”

Lord Randal bowed. “Thank you Your Majesty. You’ve ruled with wisdom tonight.”

“You’ll translate the book as we travel north. We leave this week,” Pride said.

North Camp

After splitting from Devery and Sir Alcott a week ago, Ronan, Tyrell, and Kelwin traveled southwest from the Snowdrift Mountains toward the northern death camp. The forest of towering pine trees provided excellent cover and a constant supply of food during their journey. As the towering pines gave way to flat lowlands, the group encountered the tides of change.

Through a shroud of thick fog and dark night skies, yellow light glowed on the north Meranthian horizon.

Ronan brought Betty to a halt at the forest’s edge. “Wait. I see light across the open ground.”

“Which direction Ronan? I can’t a quarter mile through this fog,” Tyrell said.

Ronan pointed southwest. “A mile ahead I see a faint glow of light on the horizon.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I can’t see past the tip of my nose,” Kelwin said.

“Devery’s lead scout said we’d find the camp at this location. Ronan, can you see the eastern entrance? The scout reported that portion of the wall remained unfinished.” Tyrell said.

“It’s too far away Master Tyrell. I won’t know until we move closer.”

“I’m grateful you can see ten-feet beyond your nose in this fog.” Tyrell said.

Since the day at Devery’s forge, Ronan’s power had intensified. He’d not sent energy through his new shard blade, but the act of holding it amplified his power. “Master Tyrell, the first time you held your shard blade, did you feel any change with your magic?”

Tyrell furrowed his brow and paused as if thinking. “The blade itself offered a great advantage, but I don’t recall changes with my inherent magic. Why do you ask?”

“I’m gaining strength with my shard magic, and I can’t explain why.”

A look of confusion crossed Tyrell’s face. “Knight’s gain more control of their magic with time and experience, but I’ve never heard a knight mention an increase in raw power.”

“Look at the fog surrounding us,” Ronan gestured at the wall of white fog blanketing their view. “When I channel shard magic it disappears. Three weeks ago, I’m certain I couldn’t have done that.”

Tyrell focused on the billowing fog surrounding the men. “When I studied at the citadel, the oldest knights would share stories with new students. They’d recall feats of magic performed by legendary knights such as Byron the Black or Sir Jager of Bramblethorn. I discounted them as the tall tales of old knights trying to delight shard knights in training.” He shrugged. “Maybe, their stories were true. I’ve never met a knight that could penetrate a fog bank this thick even on his best day. I’m afraid I don’t have a reasonable explanation, but I’m grateful it’s happened.”

“I just wish the bloody fog would let up,” Kelwin said.

Ronan shook his head. “We’ve a mile of open ground to cover before we reach the camp’s fortifications.”

“Which means we need to move,” Tyrell said. “The fog and darkness provide the best cover we could hope for, and come dawn, the sunlight destroys our biggest advantage.”

“Agreed,” Ronan said. “But we can’t take the horses any further. Battle knight’s patrolling the eastern wall will hear them half a mile away.”

“Can you see guards patrolling the eastern wall?” Kelwin said.

“No, it’s too far,” Ronan said. “We’ll have to get closer.”

“Can you see guards patrolling outside the camp’s walls?” Tyrell said.

“I don’t see any patrols ahead,” Ronan said.

“Gather any necessary belongings.” Tyrell dismounted and led Reggie a hundred yards into the pine forest’s thick cover. “I want us traveling toward Freehold before sunrise.” He placed a few items in Reggie’s saddlebags and walked back to the forest’s edge.

Kelwin secured his horse and checked his belt pouch. He counted several vials of glowing green liquid before nodding. Tightening the grip on his heartwood staff, he stepped up beside Tyrell. “I’m ready,” he said in a hushed voice.

After securing Betty and tightening the straps of his plate mail armor, Ronan touched the sheba blade strapped to his shoulders. He chased away a wave of flutters brewing in his stomach and let go a long breath. “I wish I’d had time to draw this blade and give it a thorough test.”

“Devery said it’s the finest blade he’s ever crafted. If we’re careful, you won’t need it here either,” Tyrell said. “But if you do, I’ve every confidence it’ll work as Devery intended.”

Ronan felt the tension build in his shoulders, and tried to relax. “Okay, let’s go.”

Tyrell gestured toward the impenetrable wall of fog lying before them. “Lead the way Ronan. We’ll follow.”

Ronan disappeared through the fog bank with Tyrell and Kelwin following on his heels.

The gnarled ground proved difficult to cross as the camps construction had consumed hundreds of pine trees leaving the soil broken and furrowed. After several hundred yards, the tree stumps gave way to large swaths of mud and dead pine needles littering the ground ahead.

Ronan raised his hand and stopped.

The glow of disembodied shields moved atop the eastern wall.

Ronan had expected shielded guards, but their presence strolling the top of the eastern battlement signaled completion of the camp’s construction. They’d have to find a way past those fortified walls. Ronan crouched and swiveled toward Tyrell and Kelwin. “The camp’s finished. I see shielded guards patrolling the eastern wall,” he said whispering.

Tyrell gave the okay followed by a confirming nod from Kelwin.

Ronan spun and took a tentative step forward onto a pile of dead pine branches.

The ground beneath Ronan open, and he dropped.

Ronan’s stomach turned inside out and, he suppressed a scream as he descended. He flailed groping for the pit’s edge, but his fingertips missed the edge by a hair’s width.

Tyrell lunged forward at inhuman speed and grabbed empty air as Ronan disappeared into the dark ground.

***

A red-chinned sparrow fluttered to a halt perching just inside a three-inch slit leading into the prison cell. The makeshift window provided air, light, and a means of sustaining life for fifteen Ayralen prisoners trapped inside.

The tiny sparrow dropped the seed and chirped.

Danielle jumped to her feet and made her way to the wall slit where the silhouette of a small sparrow sat perched against a backdrop of dark gray fog. “It’s clear.” She whispered

The sparrow grabbed the flat black seed in its beak and hopped forward. With a rush of beating wings, the tiny bird extended its claws and landed atop the cell’s stone floor. Keely dropped the seed at Danielle’s feet and shifted into her human form. “It took me twenty minutes to find the window. The bloody fog’s as thick as a heartwood tree snake.”

Danielle collected the seed and placed it in her palm. She closed her eyes and channeled flows of magic into the kernel. Her face lit with a smile. “Keely! You found a watermelon seed, and it’s healthy!”

Keely beamed with approval. “No sense letting those fat guards be the only ones to enjoy some fresh fruit. I managed to pick one off a plate while he had his back turned.”

Danielle placed the seed next to the water barrel “Gather ‘round everyone. Tonight’s menu includes watermelon with a side of squash and tomatoes.”

Ferris jumped off his feet and pumped a fist. “I love watermelon.” He wrapped his arms around Keely. “Thank you Miss Keely.” Ferris and the cell's other prisoners, had made a marked recovery over the past three weeks feasting on a nutrient rich diet of fruits and vegetables.

Keely looked as comfortable as a long tail cat doused with a bucket of water. “Uh…no problem kid.” She placed an awkward hand on Ferris’ shoulder. “I’m glad you…um…like it.” She gazed at Danielle with pleading eyes begging for rescue.

Danielle shut her eyes and extended her open palm toward the seed lying on the cold stone floor.

Ribbons of green energy twisted around the seed, and thick vines burst from the shell casing. Within moments, a long corded vine stretched across the cell’s hard floor. Every few feet a plump watermelon sat ripe and juicy atop a tangle of twisted vines.

Rika leaned into the water barrel and pulled free arm loads of squash and tomatoes dropping them in a heap near the watermelon plant. She held the last tomato in her fingertips and said, “Danielle, would you bless our feast?”

Heat flashed through Danielle’s cheeks. She’d never led a prayer and felt unprepared for the request, but she understood the importance for these desperate Ayralens. “I’ll try.” Danielle bowed her head and closed her eyes extending her palms outward. Warm soft hands joined hers, and she squeezed.

Ayralen women and children gathered around heaping piles of produce.

“Thank You God for providing this generous feast, and thank You for providing comfort during our darkest hour. Amen.” She raised her head and opened her eyes. “Start eating before a guard crashes the party, and I make it go poof.”

A buzz of quiet conversation hummed among the souls gathered in the prison cell as the colonists grabbed tomatoes and split open watermelon.

“What did you find this time?” Danielle said.

“You don’t want to know,” Keely said.

A twinge of dread rippled through Danielle’s chest. “Tell me.”

“Merric Pride just slithered into camp. I saw a convoy of royal carriages arrive from the south.”

“What do you think he wants?” She knew the answer, but hoped Keely would offer an alternative opinion.

Rika stepped in to answer first. “He’s imprisoned the Prime Guardian’s daughter in his camp of horrors and came to interrogate you.”

“I agree with Rika,” Keely said. “But, I’ve brought good news to go with the bad.”

Danielle perked up. “Oh? I love good news.”

“I found your seed belt and your staff. They’re right here in camp.” Keely said as she stuffed her mouth full of watermelon.

A wave of relief washed over Danielle, and she turned a hopeful expression on Keely. “Did you see my ring? Where did you find them? Can you bring them to me?”