The King's Sword (24 page)

“What’s in there?” Fiona reached for one of the original doors but Ronan rushed forward placing himself between her and the door.

“No. You can’t go in there,” He said.

“Ronan?” A voice called form the other side. “Ronan, what have you done? Unlock the door.” Ronan closed his eyes. No. No. She wasn’t there. He placed his hands on his ears.

“No!” He shouted. Stillness. When he opened his eyes the cottage was gone. The others were staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had…a little.

“No beds?” Keegan asked.

Ronan willed three Johran huts for them. “This will have to do.” He turned and walked abruptly away. No one argued or called after him and for that Ronan was thankful. But someone was following. He looked back to find it Fiona.

“Who was that?” she asked when he turned and faced her.

“My mother.”

“You keep your mother locked away in a room at your home?” Fiona stared at him with sudden disgust but Ronan shook his head.

“No. That was my imagination getting away from me. I keep her room locked but she has been dead for many years. I never go in that room.” He ran a hand over his face. He looked up when she touched his arm.

“She haunts you.” Fiona nodded as if she understood. “That’s why she was there in your magic. My grandmother haunts me as well. I hear her sometimes when I shed.”

“Shed?” It was Ronan’s turn to stare.

Fiona nodded. “Part of being a Serpentine. I shed my skin much the same way a snake does.”

Ronan’s brow furrowed. “Is it painful?”

She nodded. “Very.”

“Do you have to shed now?” Ronan asked curiously but she shook her head.

“No. I shed before I arrived at Fullerk. I’m good for several months.” Fiona’s hand still rested on his arm.

Ronan blinked. “I just noticed something.”

“I have a mole.” She lifted a hand to the small beauty mark on the underside of her chin and Ronan grinned.

“No, I noticed that in Fullerk. Very cute.” He smiled when she flushed slightly. “No, I can see you.”

She giggled. “I can see you too.”

“But you are Serpentine. You are supposed to be able to see in the dark,” Ronan argued.

She stared at him blankly.

“I can see you as clearly as I could this morning. I wonder…”

“You don’t think that by…the Johran ritual allowed you to take on some of my changeling characteristics?”

“Perhaps. How else would I be able to see as I do? I pray I won’t have to do that shedding bit.” Ronan cocked his head to the side. “What is something else that you can do that others cannot?”

“My sense of smell is more acute,” Fiona offered. “Do you smell anything?”

“No.” Ronan shook his head.

“Stick out your tongue.” Fiona instructed.

Ronan laughed, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“It is how I can smell danger.” Her tongue whipped out, flicked, and then disappeared again.

Feeling very much like an idiot Ronan stuck out his tongue. It didn’t turn into a snake tongue but he did suddenly feel very aware of his environment.

“That dragon called Montecu is near,” Ronan said after a moment. “He’s watching us.”

“Yes, I sense him too.” Fiona nodded, her eyes suddenly glittering. “Remarkable. So if you bit Ula Baen, you might be able to gain some of her magic.”

Ronan chuckled at the devilment in Fiona’s eyes. “She would cut out my tongue if I tried to bite her.” Ronan looked around them, smiling at the night world of the moors. “This is an interesting change.” He stuck out his tongue again and after a moment Fiona giggled at him. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Ronan grinned.

“No…well perhaps a bit.” She giggled again. “At least it has lightened your mood. A few moments ago it would not have surprised me if you had bit Ula with the way that you were barking at her.”

“This wizard business frustrates me,” Ronan said, his eyes catching the glint of silver in the distance. So that’s where that dragon was. He lifted a hand and waved, chuckling when the dragon lifted his head and stared at him before turning to retreat farther away.

“In her defense, she was only trying to help.” Fiona brought his gaze back to her.

“I know,” Ronan groaned. “But she knows I’m not really angry with her. I do not need to explain myself to her.”

“I’ve noticed,” Fiona murmured looking away from him.

“What’s this?” He reached forward to catch her chin so he could turn her face back toward him. “You are jealous?”

“I’m not the only one.” Fiona lifted her chin then jerked her head back toward the campsite. “Everyone notices the bond you have with her. Arien is constantly in competition for your attention.”

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed.” Ronan smiled. “And you? Are you in competition for my attention?”

Fiona met his gaze then shrugged. “Perhaps a bit.”

“What kind of attention?” Ronan pressed.

“Whatever you can spare, I imagine.” She shrugged again, appearing a bit embarrassed.

“Ah, I’m sorry Fiona. So that I know the next time, what do you do to win my attention?” Ronan asked softly and then blinked when she lifted her hand, revealing the two small nubs that were growing into new fingers. He tried not to smile and failed considerably, then gave in and laughed.

“Perhaps I’m a bit daft,” he admitted.

“Just a bit,” she retorted.

“I’ll try to do better. Spread my attention equally among the six of you,” Ronan vowed and Fiona smiled as she let her hand drop back to his arm. “I’ll not have my band of odd companions feel neglected.”

“Odd?” Fiona echoed and Ronan laughed again.

“A serpentine, sorceress, thief changeling, centaur, and sarcastic rancher isn’t exactly what I would immediately think of when hearing that a group was carrying The King’s Sword to Merisgale.” Ronan grinned.

“Don’t forget the stone wizard cannibal,” she said pointedly. “Claiming only to be a blacksmith the entire way.”

“I
am
a blacksmith. A very good one,” Ronan defended himself. “The rest is a bit harder to digest.”

“Than what? My fingers?” She raised a brow. “It is a wonderful thing to be a wizard. I don’t understand why it frightens you so much.”

“It’s the magic,” Ronan said after a moment. “When I was very young my father said that anything magic was evil. My mother and I never told him of the gifts we discovered I had. We kept it a secret and I never practiced any kind of magic in the house.”

“Oh, Ronan,” Fiona breathed.

“I had a friend, a changeling, that my father forbade me to see. He caught us fishing one morning when I was twelve. He beat us both and sent my friend home. Egle never spoke to me again.” Ronan closed his eyes. “My mother told me that he would be dangerous if he ever found out that I was a wizard. She made me swear never to use my magic again. Though I did perform little tricks as a teenager I never did anything that looked like I was using more than a magician’s illusion.”

Fiona said nothing but kept her hand on his arm.

“I let her die. She would not let me use my magic to even save her life. She starved to death after my father died. We had no one to provide for us and I wasn’t a very good blacksmith at seventeen.” Ronan swallowed loudly past the lump in his throat as he recalled his mother’s death. “She died in that room. Just withered away.”

“Ronan,” Fiona’s whisper was filled with compassion as she leaned forward and embraced him. She held him gently and for a moment he resisted her comfort. But slowly he relaxed and lowered his head to her shoulder. He allowed her to console him. No one had ever done so before. When his mother died he was left alone with no one to let him speak his misery. He’d swallowed it and buried himself in his work, vowing to become the best blacksmith possible.

“The River Blanch opened that wound. Ula held my hand when it did. Something happened that day between she and I. There was an understanding between us. Somehow she knew my pain and although I can’t recall having seen what the river showed her, I know hers.” Ronan spoke against her shoulder, tears stinging his eyes. “That is why we have such a bond.” He prayed desperately that Ula was not the one who betrayed him.

“She is doing what she does best.” Fiona’s voice was filled with realization. “She is healing you.” Ronan lifted his face and stared at Fiona.

“Little by little, I suppose she is,” he said feeling suddenly free. “And so have you. By just letting me put the pain into words.”

“Not just words,” Fiona corrected, stoking the hair of his head. “We joined, Ronan. You defied your father’s wishes and did not have to face his wrath.”

Ronan blinked. He hadn’t even considered that. Lowering his head to her shoulder again, he sighed.

Perhaps, he could be a blacksmith
and
a wizard.

Fourteen

Making the Johran huts disappear proved a much more difficult task than manifesting them. After several attempts, Ronan’s frustration showed itself in his magic, leaving the three small huts in shambles. He frowned at the mounds of earth, wood, and dry grass.

“I know!” Arien snapped his fingers. “Maybe you could make the ground just swallow up the huts now!” Ronan clamped his mouth closed to keep from snapping at the boy. He was only trying to help. Mikel the Hort rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“No, that would require a hole that he might not be able to fill.” Mikel stepped forward, eyeing the mounds thoughtfully. “We must think positive magic, not negative.”

“He must learn to do it anyway,” Ula argued. “I mean he can’t go around performing magic without cleaning up behind himself.” She looked at the changeling when he shook his head.

“You encouraged him to do something large like this. Now we are set back hours when we should have left at dawn.” Mikel the Hort dismissed her from his gaze. “He should start smaller and then work his way to something so large as he masters the magic.”

Ronan nodded in agreement with the changeling.

“He made the cottage disappear and it was much bigger than these huts,” Arien defended Ula loyally.

“Not by will. It was an emotional outburst that caused him to take away the cottage. Nothing that he consciously willed,” Mikel said and Ronan nodded, not liking the way they were talking about him as if he were not even there.

“Well, we can’t just leave it here.” Ula pressed her lips together. Mikel the Hort stepped closer to the mounds, eyes sweeping over them thoughtfully. Ronan could almost see the little wheels in his head turning.

“Send the dirt back to Johran in the form of huts. Set them on the outer parts of the village with a note to Yarro saying the huts belong to you for you to use as you need to.” Mikel glanced up at Ronan, “That way you can summon them to you when we stop for camp again.”

“That is an excellent plan,” Ula agreed nodding. “And doesn’t require vanishing them to thin air.”

“But how will I know if I send them to the right place?” Ronan wasn’t so sure.

Mikel spoke again, “Ask that Yarro mark the note once he’s read it. Then, when you summon the huts again and if he’s made his mark, you can practice your negative magic on making the letter disappear. And without creating so much of a mess.”

Ronan stared down at the little changeling. “You are a clever little thief.” Mikel beamed and nodded in agreement.

Ronan closed his eyes and conjured a picture of the Johran village in his mind. He willed the huts back together and set them just outside the village by imagining them there. With an invisible hand on a piece of paper he left a short note to Yarro on the door of the middle hut.

Taking a breath, he opened his eyes and found that the mounds of dirt were gone. “I pray it worked.”

“If it did not, when you summon the huts back to you, you will receive mounds of dirt with a silly note on top. No loss.” Mikel shrugged.

“No loss but a bit humiliating.” Ronan glanced around at the others. “Can we get going now?” He swung atop Sorcha’s back and kicked his horse forward without waiting for the others.

A gust of wind nearly blew Ronan from the horse’s back and he looked up to find the Dragon landing alongside him. “You are an impatient little wizard,” The dragon said as his pace slowed so that he was walking alongside at an even height. “I’ve been watching you and I wonder does Yarro know it was an amateur wizard that joined his tribe and promised him a river.”

“I shall uncomplicated things for you,” Monty continued. “The horseman feels as if you do not appreciate him. The sorceress feels you are pushing her away when she only wants to do for and help you. The centaur keeps silent because he only wants peace but thinks you take too many risks. The boy continues to attempt to impress you but still you do not notice him. And your woman feels you keep your distance because you do not trust her.”

“That is not how I feel toward any of them,” Ronan murmured.

“Then why behave as if you do?” The dragon shook his head. “They make such effort to do what you wish, to please you. Can you not find it in your heart to give the same in return?”

Guilt washed through Ronan. “I did not want to be a wizard. It makes me angry.”

“None of us asked to be born as what we are. We all have things about us that we don’t like. We accept those things and learn to live our lives the best we can.” Monty quickened his pace, leaving Ronan behind to consider his words. Moments later he soared up into the sky.

Ronan sighed heavily. The dragon was right. He was acting selfishly. This journey to Merisgale was not just about him. It was about them all.

That evening he called them to stop early. Hesitantly he summoned the huts and was surprised when they appeared before him intact. Yarro’s mark indicated that the spell the changeling had suggested worked.

* * *