by AJ Searle
Thestian’s breath sucked in sharply as Fiona’s forked tongue flicked from between her full red lips, tasting the scent of fear in the air. “Bite you?” She drew in a long, slow breath, then let it out just as slowly. “With pleasure.”
Then the beautiful but deadly creature leapt forward.
Three
When Keegan urged his horse to halt, Ronan frowned deeply. Over the past seven days, he’d learned well enough that Keegan Yore would never stop until called to from one of the others. That part of the horseman’s pride had often angered Ronan because he knew that Keegan was doing it just to prove his point of Ronan’s leadership over the other two. He’d proven his words as truth and it forced Ronan to speak for Ula and Arien when they needed to relieve themselves or rest. Now, Keegan’s broad shoulders stiffened before he turned to look back at them. His eyes met Ronan’s and dread knotted in the blacksmith’s stomach. Something was wrong.
“Culley,” Keegan called.
“Sir Culley,” Arien corrected with an irritated voice for the hundredth time. The boy scowled.
Ronan smiled at Arien’s effort. He brought Sorcha along side Keegan’s horse, searching the road for anything that might have been the cause of the horseman’s unpredictable stop. But the road was clear. Keegan’s expression was not, however. Instead it held a look of concern.
“What is it?” Ronan asked with confusion. His eyes darted to Keegan. Ula’s previous warning found his thoughts quickly and Ronan stiffened.
Ronan had considered who might not be who they presented themselves to be while he rode during the day. Now the horseman was behaving suspiciously. Did he mean to take the sword himself?
“In the trees to the left…no, don’t look directly. We are being followed.” Keegan kept his voice low and indicated toward the road ahead of them as if discussing something about the journey ahead. Had he lost his mind?
Ronan frowned as he looked up at the sky and then let his eyes sweep the trees on both sides of the road. Only a glance, but since he was looking for something, he saw them. Shadowed by the trees and brush but they were there. Riders.
Guilt tore through Ronan. He’d suspected Keegan but could see now the man only meant to warn him of what was going on around them. Ula was the one with no senses and he’d allowed her madness to taint his judgment of the man who guided them.
Keegan added, “I do not trust those that would hide from view.”
Ronan nodded, remembering the cautious way Keegan had watched the changeling, Mikel the Hort, two nights before. But Mikel had meant no harm. He had just been so used to hiding after he’d stolen something that it had become second nature.
“How long have you noticed them?” Ronan asked.
“Since the day after we fed the changeling.” Keegan shrugged when Ronan stared at him. “They didn’t move closer until this morning.” Perhaps the witch had been right after all. Mikel the Hort might not have been as innocent as Ronan had thought him to be. Maybe he had been some kind of spy.
“How many are there?” Ronan felt like an idiot but indicated toward the road with his hand anyway, following Keegan’s example. He would trust him from now on.
Keegan looked out at the road again, nodding this time. “My guess would be about six or seven. But it’s not the number that bothers me.” He met Ronan’s gaze. “They are Centaurs.” A chill raced up Ronan’s spine. He’d only heard of such half beasts and hadn’t even been sure they were real.
They were dangerous beings that were half horse-half man, most of which were said to belong to the Rahawk, a rebel group who opposed having a wizard king. But why were they here and following them? Realization suddenly washed over Ronan and Keegan nodded, apparently aware of what had found the blacksmith’s thoughts. The King’s Sword.
Ronan glanced at Arien’s horse. “Ahearn hasn’t seemed nervous. Surely if there was danger he would sense it first as he did before.” He grasped desperately for hope but Keegan took it away with a shake of his head.
“I told you the horses were intelligent. They would, just as we are, attempt to keep the centaurs from realizing we knew that they were there.” Keegan made a few gestures with his hands. “I have trained them well. True, they let us know of danger but they also understand our command and would not forsake us.” Ronan looked back to find that Ahearn was looking directly at him, almost as if to confirm the horseman’s words. Ronan sighed heavily.
“Do we get to stop a bit earlier today?” Ula asked eagerly. Ronan’s gaze drifted from the horse to the boy and the healer. They relied on him and Keegan to keep them safe. The fear that had began to gnaw at Ronan suddenly turned to anger. He flexed his fingers slightly and took a calming breath. No need to act irrationally and bring on events that might not take place otherwise.
“Do you think they are a part of the dark forces?” Ronan looked at Keegan, thankful that the horseman was more familiar with this darker world than he. Without him, Ronan would not have even noticed those that followed them.
“No. Centaurs are by nature free thinkers. They would not lower themselves to do the work of the dark forces or anyone else for that matter,” the horseman told him. “They are most likely after the sword for their own reasons, reasons that I would wager neither benefit Merisgale nor the dark forces.”
What reason could that be? “How far to Fullerk?” Ronan asked. He glanced out at the trees again.
“Another day and a half at most.” If Keegan knew Ronan suspected him, he did not show it and Ronan prayed that his suspicious thoughts hadn’t been obvious.
Ronan looked back to Ula after a moment of thought. “No, we push on and will not stop again until tonight.” Keegan raised a brow when Ronan faced him again. “I’ll take no chances. They haven’t attacked us yet, so perhaps they are only watching us. We may have passed their camp and they are just curious.” It was lame reasoning and Ronan knew it but Keegan nodded and kicked his horse forward while Ronan dropped back to the rear of their group.
As he rode, he rested his hand on the leather bundle that was the King’s Sword. He decided then and there that if the Centaurs attacked he would use the sword and face the consequences of his actions later. Once in Fullerk he would purchase a sword of his own.
Ronan felt ill. Never before had he felt he needed a weapon to protect himself. Now he needed one to protect two others as well.
The day dragged on and though he did give in and allow them to stop to relieve themselves, Ronan made certain they did not tarry long. The centaurs stayed with them, in the trees, moving when they moved, stopping when they stopped.
By nightfall, even Ula and Arien knew they were there. They would have had to be blind and stupid not to know it. Keegan and Ronan’s behavior alone probably tipped them off that there was something amiss. As they set up camp, everyone was solemnly quiet. And when they lay down to rest, none of them spoke a word.
Ronan remained awake, listening. The centaurs made no sound, not even a rustle and he assumed they did not sleep. Ronan suspected that none of the others slept either.
Only once, Ahearn appeared a bit nervous, then settled again. Ronan could only guess that one of those that watched them had come for a closer look for he could see nothing when he looked out at the dark trees. The centaur obviously fell back again and the rest of the night dragged on undisturbed.
If they were lucky, they could make Fullerk without any trouble. If they were not lucky, the centaurs would be just as weary as they were and perhaps that would weaken any attack they were planning. Either way, Ronan felt it would give him and those that traveled with him the upper hand in the situation.
To his relief the centaurs did not attack that night. The next morning they just continued following, watching. Ronan did not know how it felt to be hunted but he guessed it was very much like he was feeling now. They were prey being followed, with no control that could do nothing but wait for the hunter to make his move. Ronan didn’t like it and by midmorning he felt like charging into the trees.
“There is a fork in the road just ahead. Both ways will take us to Fullerk.” Keegan called back, pulling the reins of his horse. They all stopped and looked at Ronan. It was his call.
“Which way is quicker?” Ronan asked, wanting to get to the town as soon as possible. The closer to Fullerk the less chance they had of the centaurs in the trees attacking them.
“We’d have to cross a bridge but it’s not safe. If we were to cross, we would have to do it one at a time,” Keegan answered. “I think it would be better to go the other way. It would take a few more hours but…”
“We take the bridge.” Ronan interrupted, thinking a few hours could make a difference in their safety. “Is this a bridge that crosses the River Blanch that you spoke of before?”
“Yes.” Keegan nodded his head. “But the bridge is old and missing timbers in a few places. The other way we can cross the river all together via rope raft. I know the man at the crossing.”
“We cross the bridge,” Ronan repeated and though Keegan looked as if he wanted to argue, he did not. Instead he led them to the left at the fork. An hour later, they neared the river and Ronan could see Ula’s trepidation about crossing the waters in her eyes.
Ronan regretted his decision of taking the bridge however when they saw it had been destroyed. Pieces of it were scattered about and it looked as if the ropes had been cut. They would have to turn back. Ronan wondered if their misfortune was the doing of those who followed quietly in the trees.
“There is no way we could have known the bridge was down,” Ula said as they headed back the way they came. Ronan knew she was only trying to make him feel better but it wasn’t helping. He’d seen the relief on her face when they’d come across the scattered timbers.
“I should have listened to Yore,” Ronan admitted his fault causing Keegan to look back. He hadn’t wanted to say the words but knew that it was only right since Keegan had been correct. The horseman shrugged.
“Still, it would have helped had we known ahead of time that the bridge wasn’t an option. If my suspicions are correct, the bridge was destroyed recently. Perhaps someone was trying to stop us,” he suggested, clearly not liking the reality of it any more than Ronan.
“It could be coincidence,” Arien piped. “A bunch of kids could have done that damage.”
“Perhaps. It is close to Fullerk.” Keegan’s eyes told Ronan however that he did not believe that unruly children were the cause of the destruction. Ronan had to agree with him. Kids were stupid and would have left signs that would point the blame at them. No such signs were left behind. Only those cut ropes and the pieces of the bridge that looked to have been hacked with heavy blows.
“Or maybe it was him?” Arien interrupted his thoughts, pointing to the figure ahead of them in the road. Ronan went rigid as his eyes rested on the centaur. Keegan waved for the others to remain back as he walked his horse to meet with the beast. Ronan immediately rode forward, eyes sweeping over the centaur’s muscular torso and mane of thick blond hair. He was huge. And his broad features only made him look larger.
“You look like you’ve been riding for awhile.” The centaur spoke first in a deep but soft voice, looking at Keegan. “You could revive your horses at the river.” Ronan’s eyes narrowed. The centaur was fishing for something under the guise of concern. He realized he didn’t like those who would hide, even behind a feigned smile, any more than Keegan did.
“Our horses are good,” Keegan answered, his own voice deep. He made no attempt to hide the sharpness of his irritation or suspicion and Ronan was thankful. Keegan could prove intimidating if he wanted to.
“I’d heard that there were some traveling this way,” the centaur said and then offered another faint smile when Keegan tilted his head. “News travels fast, especially news that has to do with Merisgale. Are you the blacksmith?”
Ah ha. Ronan shifted on Sorcha’s back. It was as he suspected. The centaur was after the sword. Perhaps he even meant to become the next King. A centaur king rather than a wizard probably appealed to him and those who waited in the trees for him.
“We’ve a long way to go yet. Perhaps we will have time to stop and chat on our way back.” Keegan glanced back as Arien and Ula rode closer. “I told the two of you to stay…” Ronan’s head snapped around when Keegan’s words trailed away. Five more centaurs were approaching from behind. He looked back at the one in front of them. Ambushed.
“Who are you and what business have you with us?” Ronan asked. Part of him was relieved. At least now, they were where he could see them. No more waiting for them to pounce. They were in the thick of the danger and that was where he felt a bit more comfortable.
“I am the centaur Bryan. My business is only with the blacksmith,” The centaur answered, eyes remaining on Keegan. Ronan realized that they thought the horseman was the blacksmith.
“And any business of the blacksmith’s is business that is also ours.” Keegan crossed his arms. Ronan could feel the powerful energy that radiated out from the horseman.
“Very well. We want The King’s Sword,” Bryan said simply.
“So do a lot of other people,” Keegan countered and even managed to make his laugh seem mocking. “What makes you think we would just give it over to you?”
“If you do not, we shall take it.”
Bryan did not seem intimidated by Keegan. Why should he? Ronan silently thought. There were five more of him, just as large, standing behind them.
“The sword goes to Merisgale,” Ronan said with a tone of finality that finally brought the centaur’s eyes to him. They narrowed, studied him closely but Ronan did not flinch.
“To a wizard, to someone that Merisgale named to rule over you. We should all be free to live as we would, not to live the way we are told by someone who has never lived outside a wizard’s monastery.” Bryan shook his head. “That is not life, my friend. That is slavery. I would be no one’s slave. I do my own bidding.”
“As do I,” Ronan told him. “With that said, I will not hand over the sword to you.”
Bryan sighed heavily, seeming disappointed that they did not agree with his reasoning. “Our kind is forced to live in the woods as wild things. Our families die of disease when they could be spared with a visit to the physician. But physicians will not see us and try to send us to horse doctors,” Bryan told them. “Do you know what it is like to lose one of your own like that? To be unable to do anything to help them?”
“I do not. But this is not the way to fight for the rights of your kind.” Keegan was the one to answer.
Ronan only frowned. Yes, he did know how it felt. Old pain ached within him as he thought of his mother withering away. He had only told Keegan part of the truth. The whole truth was too ugly.
“You could fight a different way,” Ronan suggested.
“We are not considered a thinking people. Those of Merisgale do not listen to the ramblings of beasts.” Bryan’s voice was thick with both sadness and bitterness.
“Is there no one who would speak on your behalf? Someone they would listen to?” Ronan asked, unable to help the compassion he felt for the centaur.
“Who would do that? You were scowling yourself when you realized we were in the trees and when you approached me. We get no different treatment from anyone else. This is the only way.” Bryan bowed his head and Ronan winced with guilt. “We are left with no other choices. Give us the sword.”
Ronan shook his head but his heart did not feel the same convictions. He knew what it felt to be slighted because of something that was beyond his control. Poverty was an evil cloak to force a child to wear and a responsibility that been forced upon him too young. He looked in Bryan’s eyes and understood the determination he read there. And the centaur had every right to be that determined.
But Ronan knew he could not do as the centaur wished. There was too much at stake for him and more importantly for those who traveled with him. If he gave Bryan the sword he would be jeopardizing them as well as himself.
“We cannot do what you ask.” Ronan hated the decision that was left for him to make, but most of all he hated the sword. It seemed to be the root of all the problems forming.
“Then you die today,” Bryan answered without hesitation.
“No!” Arien kicked Ahearn forward, causing Ronan to frown at the boy, wanting to box his ears for not keeping quiet. But Arien’s eyes were wild and he trembled though Ronan could not be sure if it were from fear or devotion to him.
“Get back,” Ronan said lowly and raised his voice slightly when the boy did not obey. “I said to get back, boy.”
“Forgive me but I will not.” Arien shook his head, and then looked at Bryan. “I am the blacksmith you seek. I carry the King’s Sword.” Behind them, Ula groaned lowly.
“Then give it to me.” Bryan smirked. It was clear he did not believe the boy was who he claimed to be. He would have been a fool if he did. Ronan assumed it was evident now which of them was really the blacksmith.
“What are you doing?” Ronan demanded, and then nearly fell from the horse when Arien swiped the bundled sword from Sorcha’s pack.
“If you want this thing, then come and get it!” Arien let the leather fall back and the white metal of The King’s Sword shown brightly in the sun. Ronan reached to take it back but Arien kicked Ahearn and they both went flying forward. The centaurs wasted no time and in moments were in pursuit.
The whole world seemed to quake beneath the impact of the centaurs’ hooves hitting the road. It rumbled through Ronan’s chest in the split second he remained still. Their powerful legs echoed the strength each one possessed as they chased after the sword.
“Dragon’s blood!” Ronan cursed into the thunder of the chase and kicked his own horse forward in a full gallop, praying Sorcha would do most of the work. “Arien!” Ronan called as the boy disappeared around a bend but he was ignored.