A. Searle - The King's sword

“You are Johran now.” Fiona smiled at his teasing.

“Yes, I am.” He grew serious. “It is quite odd to suddenly be a part of such a large family of people. And they all have treated me as if I’ve always been one of them.”

“It is nice to belong to someone.” Fiona nodded, then looked down at her hands. “I know that you suspect I am the one who betrays you…because of my past with Diato. But it is not me. The farther Diato is from me, the happier I am. What was between us has been over for six months. I wouldn’t help him lace his boots much less attempt to steal the sword.”

Ronan said nothing.

Fiona sighed. “I do not know how to convince you that I tell you the truth. I suppose I cannot. And I am not so sure that I would believe me either if I were you.”

“I want to believe you,” Ronan admitted. “I want to believe that none of you would do this. But the truth is there and I must face it. As Ula says, I can only trust myself now.”

Fiona nodded. “She is my first suspect.”

“Really?” Ronan tilted his head. “Somehow I doubt she is guilty just because when I asked her, she said she was certain you were not the one. Someone who meant to betray me would not clear someone else’s name.” Fiona stared at him.

Ronan released her hand and turned toward the door. “I need your help,” He called, waving a hand and indicating that he wanted her to follow him. “This place offers no nourishment to the Johran people. The earth is dryer here than other places.” He stepped from the hut, staring out at the edge of the village. Fiona stepped beside him, following his gaze.

“Ula said that Serpentines were excellent farmers.” Ronan looked at her. “Any suggestions?”

“Something with a dry root,” she murmured. “And doesn’t grow very tall. Shrugbush or Dalroot may work here. Both can be served raw, cooked, or be made into stew.”

Ronan smiled approvingly. “I’ll have Ula conjure me up a few seeds if she can. You can show them where to plant and tell them what needs to be done.”

“Go back inside and rest. I need time to think,” he told her and after a moment she left his side. He walked out into the village, surveying the dusty land that surrounded it. If there were some sort of water source available it would make Johran life much easier.

You could manipulate the landscape. Ahearn stepped toward Ronan. There is an abundance of water is Merisgale. You could create a river that stretched from Merisgale through the moors and ended here into a lake.

“Perhaps a dam at the edge of Johran that would prevent flooding in the valleys.” Ronan shook his head. “But I do not know if I am a strong enough wizard to do that.”

Robusk is. Ahearn answered. When you deliver the sword to him you could request his help. Ronan nodded. It was a good plan.

“Thank you, Ahearn. You are a remarkable creature.” Ronan scratched the horse between the ears. Ahearn snorted and then moved away again.

Ronan watched Fiona show the younger women how to plant the seeds. She was smiling, obviously happy with the work she was assigned. Ula sat with older women relaying the ingredients of her healing broth. They all had their heads bent low, as if she was sharing some great secret meant only for a few chosen. Keegan and Bryan had gone out with some of the men to hunt the dusty hills of Johran. Ronan doubted they would have any luck. And Arien was showing some of the men how to construct better, more durable weapons. Ronan beamed proudly as he watched him pass on information that Ronan had taught him.

“I have nothing to contribute.” Mikel the Hort spoke from behind Ronan, his voice low and filled with shame. “I don’t fight. I don’t cook. I don’t hunt. The only thing of weapons I know is how to steal them and my first instinct in a fight is to hide.”

Ronan offered a slight smile as he looked down at the changeling man. “Stealth can be an admirable trait. And knowing how to hide can be an advantage when someone means to attack.” Ronan waited for Mikel to lift his gaze. “Do not sell yourself short, Mikel the Hort. You have survived this long.”

“I am a weakling and a coward.” He lifted an arm to show the lack of muscle.

“Your character makes up for your lack of physical strength. I know very few who would be so brave as to lift a dagger off of a King’s Guard. That does take some courage and confidence in your skill,” Ronan argued. “If I thought you were useless I would not have allowed you to travel with me.”

“What good am I to your mission?” Mikel asked after a moment.

Ronan knelt so that he was eye level with the changeling. “You would not fight. You would hide until danger was gone. You are the one who would not be killed, the one who could warn Robusk and Merisgale that the dark forces were raging against them.” Ronan leaned closer. “I would hope you would manage to swipe the sword before it fell into the wrong hands. You are a thief. I imagine you could do it quickly and quietly when no one was looking.”

“I could!” Mikel nodded excitedly. “I could do it and be long gone before any of them could realize it was gone. I’m an excellent thief.”

“There, you see.” Ronan smiled as he rose back to his feet. “A hero can be anyone who knows how to use what they have for the good of man.”

“You think I can teach these people something?” Mikel’s voice was no longer deflated. It was filled with hope and eagerness.

“I think between your tactics and Arien’s weapons, they would better off against their enemies.” Ronan nodded. Mikel tilted his head for a moment then scampered off to join Arien.

“And odd bunch you travel with, Ronan,” Yarro called from the door of his hut. Ronan turned and nodded in greeting to the leader.

“Indeed they are.” He stepped toward Yarro, crossing his arms.

“You offer them positive leadership. A wise man does not rule over those he commands. He speaks to them on a level they understand without talking down to them. You lifted the spirits of that little changeling.”

“I do what I must for them. Each have played a pretty important role on this long journey. But I admit I will be thankful when it is over.”

Yarro nodded. “It is a big responsibility.”

“One that I will be grateful to be rid of,” Ronan admitted. “I suppose I should tell you that I mean to ask the great wizard Robusk to help me dig a river from Merisgale to Johran. It would provide our people with a water source that will insure foliage and eventually wild life.”

“Food,” Yarro murmured and Ronan nodded. “But it will not be easy. The Dragols will not be so easy to convince.”

“Dragols?” Ronan raised a brow.

“You don’t know? They rule the moors between Merisgale and Johran.” Yarro stared at Ronan when he shook his head. “The moors are the home of the dragons.”

“Dragons?” Ronan repeated. “I thought there were only few left in existence.”

“A little more than a few but it is true there are not as many as there used to be. They reside on the moors. It is why we must cloak our village. Like us, they hunt what they can. We hunt in numbers of three or more. We are less likely to become prey if there are many.”

Ronan ran a hand over his face and scratched the hair on his chin. “Dragons,” he said again. “Are they hostile?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not. They are unpredictable and moody. One never knows the nature of a dragon.” Yarro sighed. “We lived in peace with the Dragols for many years. But these are desperate times. They face extinction. They do what they must, as do we, to survive.”

“A river would probably benefit them as well,” Ronan thought aloud. “In the same ways it benefits the Johran. Perhaps an agreement of peace can be made with the promise to help them survive.”