A. Searle - The King's sword

“I suppose this promise of a river would require we give you pass across the moors?” Monty watched the wizard nod. “Very well. I will tell the others to steer clear of you.”

“Especially me. I’m too small for a good meal anyway.” A runt of a man called from atop the centaur’s back.

Monty slowly smiled, revealing his razor sharp teeth. “You are just big enough to pick the rest of them from my teeth. A bit of mint, I would call you.” Then he turned, smirking at the look of fear that flashed across the little man’s face. He took off on a run and then sprung into the air, resizing himself to his normal size.

Yarro’s lowered voice found his ears, “We are fortunate to have caught him on a good day. It could have gone much uglier.”

“Every day that it rains is a good day!” Monty called back before rocketing skyward.

Robusk smiled in the darkness of his prison. The blacksmith now knew some of what was going on. He sat very still and waited, a smug smile planted on his thinned lips. He may be dying but Ronan Culley would save Merisgale.

The lock across from him turned and the door slammed open. “Good day to you. Or is it evening? I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten the time.” SleaganSleagan was furious. Dark magic sparked all around him, filling the air with nervous electricity.

“You’ve been talking to the blacksmith all along,” SleaganSleagan accused.

Robusk’s smile widened. “Perhaps I was not as weak as I allowed you to think,” he admitted taking pleasure in seeing SleaganSleagan’s eyes darken with rage.

“You dishonor the code of wizards.” SleaganSleagan’s backhand was unexpected and sent Robusk’s head snapping into the slick wall behind him. “Wizards cannot call for a wizard to help them!”

“No, but we can warn them of trouble in Merisgale.” Robusk spat blood on the floor of the cell. “And that is all that I have done.”

“Do any more and you shall be begging me to put you back in this dungeon,” SleaganSleagan’s voice lowered in a dangerous threat.

“I doubt it. The sooner I am out of this place, the happier I shall be.” Robusk wrinkled his nose as his eyes slid around the narrow space of his cell.

“If you are counting on a rescue, it will not happen,” SleaganSleagan told him. “Merisgale does not send an army out to look for you.”

“I wonder why they haven’t?” Robusk shot back sarcastically and received another blow to his jaw.

“Watch your tone, old man,” SleaganSleagan warned.

“I will and you be sure to watch your back. I have a feeling our little blacksmith will not be so easily led as you think.” Robusk did not flinch when SleaganSleagan drew back his hand. In fact, he welcomed the darkness that swirled around him from the impact of his temple hitting the wall.

“It is only a suggestion but I believe it would do you good to practice your powers,” Ula began with a cautious tone. “Maybe you could create fire for our campsite.” Ronan frowned. His mood had become testy and he knew she was waiting for him to explode. Instead, he sighed and gave her a little nod.

“Do not concentrate. Just think to yourself that you would like the warmth of a campfire,” Ula encouraged softly. The others lifted their eyes to him and Keegan put down the stones he’d found to start a fire. He took a step backward and grinned when Ronan looked at him.

“Just don’t want you to direct that magic at me.”

“Flaming horsemen are not on the menu tonight.” Ronan closed his eyes and thought as Ula instructed. The temperature around them became warmer and he opened his eyes but there was no fire.

“It’s a start,” Ula smiled softly. “Try again.”

Ronan shifted then closed his eyes again, this time imagining a small fire. When he opened his eyes, he found it had worked though the flames were so small he didn’t think it could really be called a fire. With a bit of pushing, he made the fire larger.

“That was great.” Ula smiled broadly and Ronan shrugged.

“Not sure what good that was since Keegan would have had a fire in half the time.” Ronan watched her pat his hand.

“You must learn to control this magic of yours. The only times it has surfaced when you needed it was when it flared on instinct. The more you practice, the easier it gets and the larger the manifestation you can create.” Ula glanced up at the gray clouds of the night. “It looks as if it may rain.”

“I can’t stop the rain,” Ronan growled. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t. This place needs a good soaking.”

“But you could construct a shelter for those of us who do not wish to be drenched,” Ula suggested.

“Out of what?” Ronan looked around at the few plants. None were big enough to provide any kind of shelter.

“You build it with your mind with materials that you conjure up,” Ula explained patiently. Ronan frowned. If he could do that, he would just conjure up a replica of his cottage.

“I don’t think I can.” Ronan looked up at the others but they were all staring past him. His hand dropped to the sword at his hip as he turned. His own eyes rounded as he stared at what looked like his cottage door.

“Did I do that?” Ronan whispered as he rose to his feet and faced the stone house. “I didn’t mean to.”

“A bit more control,” Ula reminded. “But I would say you did well. It will beat sleeping on the ground.” Ronan reached forward and pushed the door open. A fire burned in the hearth and his tools hung on the far wall.

“Nice.” Fiona stepped in front of him and peeked in before stepping inside. “This is your home?” She looked back and Ronan nodded, moving forward.

“There are not enough bedrooms,” He told them as they each entered behind him.

“Then add on some more.” Keegan shrugged.

Ronan closed his eyes and imagined the cottage with three more rooms. When he opened his eyes three new doors stood open to the front room.

“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.