The King's Sword (10 page)

“What happened to that blacksmith?” Bryan gritted his teeth against the ache that began to throb again in his temples. But it wasn’t nearly as forceful as it had been when he’d waded out into it. And he’d traveled across the river many times, usually by bridge. It would have been an easier crossing. He could do it at a run. Now he had to wait while the old man pushed them across with his long stick.

“Used that sword to calm the water. Never saw anything like that before and I’ve been doing this for many years,” Grayson said quietly.

Bryan frowned. “Used the sword?”

“Only a wizard could have done what he did. He was lost in the magic of the water. Then he called the sun and just lifted that sword. He put it right down into the river.” Grayson’s voice dropped to a whisper, “He used the magic of the white metal.” Bryan stared at the old man, then looked to the opposite shore. The small band of travelers had disappeared from sight, moving along toward Fullerk.

“He was struck down but he picked himself back up,” Grayson continued. “Just like nothing had happened.” Bryan knew what the man was thinking. It was said that someone who used the sword died, others became minions of the dark forces. Ronan Culley was not dead. That left only one alternative.

“It was just the water. It doesn’t count.” Bryan wasn’t certain if he was correct; he prayed that he was. “He killed no one. There was no bloodshed.” But Bryan wouldn’t really know the truth until he looked into the blacksmith’s eyes again.

No dark clouds had gathered. It had only been a bright, blinding light. Light from the metal of the sword. But the sword itself wasn’t dark. It had stilled the darkness of the water. And in doing so, told Sleagan and his demons exactly where the sword was.

“Hurry,” Bryan told the old man before he finally he gave in to the river’s torment and the conversation between the two died.

* * *

Ronan turned on Sorcha to look at the changeling’s face. “It is true.” Mikel nodded. “It scared everyone. They all just let go and stood back.”

“I put the sword into the water?” It sounded like one of the magic tales told to children.

“Just the sharp part of it.” Mikel nodded again.

“And it stopped the torment?” Ronan shook his head. He remembered none of what the changeling insisted had happened.

“Stopped it for all of us. I was relieved. I hate crossing that river.” Mikel scratched at his dark hair. “They say if anyone uses the sword they die…or…”

“He did not draw blood,” Ula snapped, interrupting the changeling. “The laws are that blood must be drawn. If you do not know of what you speak, keep your trap closed.” Mikel’s mouth snapped shut, apparently certain that Ula would silence him if he didn’t do it himself.

Ronan looked at Ula’s flashing eyes, but underneath he could see she too was nervous. “What he says is true then. I used the sword.”

She looked away. “Yes.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Ronan didn’t like her eyes averted like they were. It scared him. He waited and she finally lifted her gaze back to his.

“Yes, you did.” She sighed. “You opened that door the moment you drew the sword against the centaur. You were ready to use it if you felt you had to. That is how it begins. The river does not make you do anything that isn’t already in your head.”

Ronan’s mouth felt suddenly dry. “I didn’t even want the damned thing!” Keegan looked back at him but said nothing.

“You do now. You’ll have to fight against the urge. It makes you weak against the dark forces.” Ula bowed her head. “I should have warned you before. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to.”

Ronan stared at her. He felt ill and he was very angry. “And what does the law say? What is the rest of it? Anyone who uses the sword dies or what?” Ronan demanded.

“Or becomes one with the dark forces,” Ula whispered.

It just kept getting worse! They weren’t even half way to Merisgale yet. How would he be able to make it if things continued as they were? Perhaps he should give up. Or give the sword to the centaurs. At least he could be sure they would not let it fall into the wrong hands. And it wouldn’t be his responsibility anymore. He didn’t want it!

Sorcha stopped abruptly and Arien stared with confusion as his horse swiveled around and headed back toward Ronan. Ahearn halted, staring into Ronan’s eyes. He neighed loudly and shook his head.

“Well what am I supposed to do then? I’m a blacksmith! I have no business carrying this sword around!” Ronan shouted at the horse. He slanted a gaze at Ula when she covered her mouth and turned her head. Keegan looked just as amused. Arien just stared at Ronan as if he’d lost his senses.

Ahearn stamped his foot. “It has nothing to do with me!” Ronan swung off of Sorcha and she sidled away, carrying Mikel with her. Arien scrambled from atop Ahearn when Ronan faced the horse, eyes flashing.

“Wise move,” Keegan murmured but Ronan didn’t care what they thought of him anymore.

“I
make
weapons. Then I give them to someone else who would use them. I’ve never carried a weapon. All I have on me now to use is a dagger, just large enough to skin a snake. That’s it. I know about bending metal. I know about staining leather. I know nothing about dark forces and wizards. You were there. You saw.” Ronan was shouting and though the others flinched, Ahearn did not. Beneath his anger, Ronan was grateful the horse remained. He needed someone to hear his venting, to take it without feeling fearful or intimidated.

“I am supposed to be at home,” Ronan continued, throwing his hands in the air. “I have work to do and money to make for doing it. None of it has to do with crazed witches and mind reading horses!”

Ahearn neighed softly and Ronan gritted his teeth. “Look at me. Do I look like the kind of man who should be given such an obligation?” Ronan saw Keegan’s eyes widen when Ahearn seemed to nod his head.
Yes.

“I do not! I haven’t it in me to do what needs to be done. I never have.” He bit his words off, glancing at the others. Realization washed over him. He’d just heard the horse speak. Well, not exactly. He’d heard his thoughts. But no one else had. Maybe he was the crazy one.

Ahearn stepped closer, bowed his head and nudged Ronan’s hand. Strangely, he knew the horse understood. Ahearn knew the torment that the river had stirred. Somehow, Ahearn had been there, in his thoughts, keeping him from slipping away with the river’s power. But how?
You allowed me in.

Just as they had in the river’s mirage, the words came out of thin air. Ronan thought about them. He remembered releasing Ula’s hand. But part of him had felt as if by doing so he’d exposed himself. And of all those he traveled with, he trusted the horses the most.

“Perhaps, I did.” Ronan breathed out heavily when the horse nodded again.

“That is unbelievable.” Keegan’s voice brought Ronan’s eyes up.

“You trained him,” Ronan said lowly before lifting his hand to scratch at Ahearn’s ears. “I didn’t mean to yell.” Ahearn snorted hot breath against Ronan’s arm.
I know.

“I’ve never seen a horse bond with another rider like that.” Keegan shook his head with apparent disbelief, adding, “I’ve never seen one communicate like that. He actually nodded his head. He answered you.” Keegan’s expression was filled with awe and renewed respect. Ronan groaned.

“I am beginning to think our blacksmith is more than what he claims to be,” Ula agreed.

Ahearn nodded his head once more and Ronan sighed, shaking his. He wouldn’t tell them that the horse was doing more than a few physical gestures. And none of them seemed to want to hear that he was
only
what he claimed to be. The horse wasn’t making it any easier to convince them otherwise.

“I appreciate your faith in me but I am not cut out for this. If the truth should be told, I was honestly tempted to give that centaur the sword. His reasoning has been the only reasoning that makes sense to me since we started.” Ronan bowed his head.

“M…Maybe that’s what makes you perfect for the job.” Mikel the Hort suddenly spoke, still perched on Sorcha’s back. “You can see all the sides. Not just one.”

“What does that mean?” Keegan’s eyes swung to the changeling, suddenly filled with suspicion. Mikel immediately held up his hands, shaking his head.

“I mean no harm. But the boy said that the guards meant to retrieve the sword were killed.” Mikel’s eyes darted to Ronan. “Maybe they were not so smart as you, Sir.” Arien nodded in agreement.

“I think so too,” the boy said. “That’s reasoning
I
can understand.”

“At least they were sure of their purpose.” Ronan sighed, letting his hand fall away from Ahearn. “Come, let us get moving. It does none of us good to stay here listening to my madness. I’m wasting our time and we haven’t much before it grows dark. I’ll contemplate the meaning of my life once we are in Fullerk.” He climbed back into his place upon Sorcha’s back.

“But I appreciate your words, little one, and your honesty,” He added as he kicked the horse forward, leaving Arien to clamber back atop Ahearn.

“I steal, Sir. I don’t lie,” Mikel replied.

“So, you’ve said.” Ronan nodded and said nothing more. Instead, he prayed that he could find the answers he sought in Fullerk. He didn’t know why but he had a feeling that things would be different once they got there, perhaps even better. He found some comfort in that and took a deep breath to settle his nerves. His fit of madness and cowardice was over. Mentally he made a decision to ride to the end of this journey. Ahearn would lead him the right way.
Yes
.

Six

Fullerk is a market fair and trading grounds, Ronan thought as they stepped through the main street. It seemed people of all walks of life were there, coming and going. Even this late in the afternoon, people bustled about selling and buying wares from booths. He could make a small fortune selling small weapons in this town.

He spotted a few places where blacksmith’s worked but one glance at their wares and he knew he could put them all out of business. They were mediocre blacksmiths, producing poor quality merchandise, focusing more on quantity rather than quality.

He was filthy from the ride, weary, and his beard needed a trim but still he managed a few admiring glances from some women in the street. “Once you are bathed and shaved you will have your pick.” Keegan growled, cutting his eyes at Ronan’s grinning face.

“A shave?” Ronan scratched at his beard.

“Definitely,” Ula nodded with agreement. “Women want an animal in bed…not on the face of the man they are looking at.” Her words caused Ronan to blink. His head snapped around and he looked at her but her attention was on a booth of herbs.

“And since when does an old crone know anything of what a woman wants or doesn’t want?” Keegan was equally amused as Ronan with the Ula’s comment.

She shrugged without looking at either of them. “I was a woman once.”

“I’ve had a beard for more years than I haven’t,” Ronan argued. “It would be hard to part with it.”

Arien stumbled, nearly tripping when one young maid smiled his way and Ronan joined in with Keegan’s laughter. The boy flushed and ducked his head but smiled back at her none-the-less.

“It is time for us to part ways. I have merchandise to sell. Thank you for the ride, Sir.” Mikel the Hort turned to Ronan. “I pray you reach Merisgale safely and with no more obstacles.” His large eyes reflected the sincerity of his words and Ronan inclined his head.

“You are not sneaking away to sell anything that belonged to us?” Keegan asked but there was no suspicion in his eyes or threat in his voice. Ronan noticed that reaching Fullerk had lightened all their moods.

“If I were, I would sell your foul mood to the first muler I came across.”

Keegan turned to look down at the changeling but Mikel was gone, disappeared safely into the crowds. “Too bad. I was starting to like the little guy.” Keegan faced Ronan and opened his mouth to say something else but his eyes caught and followed a woman in the crowd.

“Dragon’s blood,” Ronan whispered as he too turned to watch the woman pass. Black hair that curled down her back, tapering down to her slim waist. But there was nothing else slim on the woman. She had curves exactly where she was supposed to and they were barely clad. A sword hung across her back and her boots laced nearly to the knee. Ronan’s mouth watered.

“I fear we are too old for that one.” Keegan stood, arms crossed, watching the woman’s dark locks disappear in the sea of heads.

“Speak for yourself. She was no child and certainly not an innocent.” Ronan nearly went after her. He hadn’t much experience but he was not a fumbling boy either. He did know what to do with a woman.

“I hope you mean to clean up a bit yourself.” Ronan wrinkled his nose. “Ahearn has a better smell than you.” The horse blew out his breath as if to agree and both men laughed together.

* * *

Four hours of hard work at one of the local smiths, a bath, and a clean shave later, Ronan stepped back into the street. Darkness had found the sky but torches lit the way for those still bustling about. Nighttime brought a different atmosphere than the day and Ronan liked it.

An odd mixture of melodies drifted in the air, each song winding from a different place and wrapping around one another. The aroma of food swept around them mixing with the sound of boisterous laughter and the hum of people’s voices. It all seemed to charge the air and Ronan breathed it in deeply.

A loud whistle and applause brought his attention around to the side of the tavern where he’d obtained a room. Keegan and Arien stood with lopsided grins. Keegan whistled again.

“Who would have thought there was a man under all that fur?” Keegan’s voice slurred slightly, indicating he’d already begun to enjoy the privileges of being in town. Arien swayed a bit himself, arm wrapped around the very young woman who had smiled at him earlier. She laughed lightly and whispered something in the boy’s ear.