A. Searle - The King's sword

“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.