A. Searle - The King's sword

“May I speak with you?” Fiona lingered and Ronan breathed out heavily.

“I do not want to argue with you today, Fiona. I have too much on my mind.” Ronan turned to step back into his hut but she followed.

“I am a warrior. It’s what I’ve spent my life training to do. And Diato did not make captain because he does not know how to kill.” Fiona placed her hands on her hips. “Listen to me, Ronan. I know what I am talking about.”

“I know you do and I hear the sense you are speaking but I must insist that you keep out of the way and assist Keegan with the others.” Ronan did not look back at her.

“Why?” she demanded, raising her voice.

“He thinks he owns you,” Ronan explained. “He still thinks of you as his woman. That makes you a very dangerous motivation for him to kill the rest of us.”

“No one owns me,” she argued. “I am a warrior, Ronan. I am trained to fight. Before I left Merisgale to come for you I bested him in a sword fight. I could have killed him. It would have been easy.”

“Have you so little faith in me?”

“You are a blacksmith, Ronan, not a swordsman.”

“I’m a wizard.”

“One that is inexperienced and uncertain of himself.”

Ronan blinked. “You’ve trusted me thus far and now when we are so close, you doubt me?”

“It’s not that I doubt you, Ronan. But you don’t know him like I do. He has been trained and very well…”

But Ronan was hurt. “You will do as I command.” He turned so he couldn’t see her expression. “I don’t care what kind of warrior you are. I am still one of the King’s Guards and a wizard. And my will shall be done.” Silence followed. He manifested a goblet of ale but it tasted sour in his mouth. He finally glanced back at her to find her glaring coldly at him.

“You would command me?” She had no emotion in her voice. No, that wasn’t true. He heard the edge, knew that she was fuming.

“If it meant I could keep you safe, yes. I would command you.” Ronan set the goblet aside and reached for her hand but she stepped away.

“Then you are no better than he.” She turned on her heel and marched from the hut without looking back.

“I’ve been waiting for you to visit me.” Robust sat smiling against the wall when Sleagan opened the door of his prison. “I’m eager to know what you think of our little blacksmith now.”

“I think he will be dead soon and so will you.” SleaganSleagan folded his arms, standing in the doorway.

“He knows who you are. He knows you are SleaganSleagan.”

Thestian scowled. “And what can he do about it? Nothing. Diato is on his way to kill him as he we speak. My plans will not be fouled. I do not care which man brings me the sword as long as I get it.”

“You will not succeed.”

“I already have. Merisgale is mine. With no king to guide them they are looking to the man you named to be next king. I control them all.”

“Power is like a tapestry, woven tightly with expensive threads. In the right hands it can last years. In the wrong hands it becomes frayed on the edges and soon begins to unravel.” But fear began to creep back into Robusk’s chest. What if Thestian did succeed? Merisgale would fall and who would step up to save Meris from Sleagan’s dark forces?

“Power is not the tapestry in this case, old man. Meris is.” SleaganSleagan smiled recklessly. “And unraveling is just what I had in mind.”

“Ronan Culley will stop you.”

“Ronan Culley can do nothing if he is dead.” Thestian turned and stepped through the door, then hesitated. “And I know that you’ve been speaking to him both in his dreams and through that horse. I’ve always known.” The door swung closed leaving Robusk in the darkness of the windowless cell.

“Forgive me?” Ronan spoke only after he halted behind Fiona. She was staring out at the shadowed moors and had heard him approaching. He’d steered cleared of her the entire day, giving her room to fume. Now, he meant to make amends.

“Of course I forgive you.” She didn’t look at him. “You should be sleeping. Tomorrow you will not have the chance.”

“I could not sleep with the fear that you were angry at me.” He touched her shoulder.

“Rest easy. I’ve decided that you are right. I should not fight Diato tomorrow night.” She turned and smiled at him. His eyes reflected surprise but also relief.

“Thank you, Fiona. I’m only trying to do what is best.” He told her and she nodded that she understood.

“Go rest now. You shall need your strength.”

Heturned and headed back toward his hut. She watched him until he disappeared through the door. Then she turned, her smile fading.

Her pace was fast and she could already feel her body changing with the adrenalin that pumped in her veins. She would stop Diato. She should have killed him when she had the chance.

Fiona carefully neared Diato’s campsite. Silently she drew her sword and stepped toward Diato’s sleeping form. He didn’t stir. He didn’t even have someone sitting watch while he slept. But it did not surprise her. He was too confident to fear anything. Using the toe of her boot, she nudged his arm. His eyes immediately opened and a smile slid across his perfect lips.

“Fiona.” He didn’t move, just lay there gazing up at her without seeming surprised to see her. “You’ve come to meet me. I thought that you might. I’m not very happy with you, Fiona. You’ve hurt me.”

“I do not care if you are happy with me or not. You deserve a little hurt for causing others so much.” Fiona pressed her lips together. She wasn’t here to discuss their dead relationship. He just brought out the worst in her and she hated him for it.

“Then why are you here?” He tucked his arm behind his head. She gritted her teeth. “Do you wish to make up with me? I would consider forgiving you.” That was how he used to lay looking at her when he was finished with her for the night. And his words were mocking. But she refused to be sucked into an argument.

“I would still be gentle with you if you have,” he added, one more stab at her.

“Ronan believes Thestian is not who he says he is. He believes him to be Sleagan,” Fiona blurted, hating how he could still hurt her.

Diato stared blankly at her and then slowly frowned. “What kind of silliness is this?”

“He believes Thestian is using you, Diato. Filling you full of information that will make you react with emotion rather than thought.” Fiona prayed he was considering what she said.

“I am not a man to be used,” Diato said guardedly.

No. You use others, Fiona thought, feeling the bitterness of resentment rise within her.

“His reasoning makes sense. I find it odd that he would send his best guards to retrieve a sword that is in no danger when the King of Meris obviously is.” Fiona watched Diato’s eyes narrow.

“Robusk named Thestian at the monastery.” He tucked his other arm behind his head but Fiona could see that his body had tensed. “Robusk is no idiot.”

“No, but he is missing,” Fiona said and then sucked in her breath as a sharp pain pierced her right shoulder. She immediately grasped at the arrow that struck her. Black powder and blood rubbed off on her fingertips. She turned, body suddenly feeling so weak that she had to rest her weight on her sword.

“You.” Fiona’s eyes dropped and widened as they rested on the familiar face behind her. “Why?” But then darkness swirled around her and she collapsed.

“It took you long enough,” Diato growled, rising to his feet.

“I had to make sure I was close enough and she didn’t slow her pace the whole way here. It made it hard for me to keep up.”