Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (46 page)

Elan’s Heart floated free in its circular suspension chamber flickering streaks of light across the vacant room’s polished marble floor.

Ronan resisted the urge to grab Elan’s Heart and flee the palace. He couldn’t leave without Danielle’s ring, and that required a confrontation with Merric Pride.

“That was easy enough,” Sir Alcott said.

“A bit too easy if you ask me,” Devery said.

“I can’t shake the feeling we missed something,” Ronan said.

“We executed the plan flawlessly, and here we are,” Sir Alcott said. “Don’t read too much into it Ronan. Besides, the guard at the gate nearly ruined everything. That didn’t go according to plan.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Ronan said. “It’s probably just my nerves. The last time I tried this ended in disaster.”

“We’ll have a different outcome this time,” Devery laid a comforting hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Now, we need to take our positions, and stand ready.”

Ronan found the heart room’s post appointed for the battle knight and stood at attention. Minutes ticked off the clock as the room remained still and empty. The clock on the wall read half past nine, which gave Pride thirty minutes until he arrived for his nightly communion with Elan’s Heart.

In the quiet stillness of the heart room, a dark blue translucent shield flickered in front of Ronan’s face.

Ronan’s stomach lurched. Without hesitation, he slid free the shard blade strapped to his shoulder and channeled power through its core. The sword glowed scarlet as shard magic flowed through him and into his blade.

The shield completed its path around Ronan encircling him and thickening. A shield appeared around Devery followed by Sir Alcott as the three shard knights struggled against the bonds of an unseen shield knight.

Ronan jammed his sword into the thick shield surrounding him, and it shattered under his assault. He lunged toward Sir Alcott and readied his blade to break the sphere trapping the healer.

The heavy iron doors inside the heart room burst open, and a half dozen shard knights poured through the entrance. Beside Elan’s Heart the air shimmered, and Merric Pride appeared from hiding surrounded by a thick nearly opaque blue spirit shield.

Ronan’s pulse raced as he watched his plan’s crumble to ash around him. He cursed himself for not anticipating Pride’s shield trick. Pride had used the same tactic against his mother five years earlier.

Devery’s hand shimmered with power as he hacked at the shield surrounding him, but it didn’t matter. Given time, Devery could remove Pride’s detention shield. The king’s power as a shield knight far surpassed Devery’s, and he repaired Devery’s damage with ease.

Alcott stood powerless under the shield’s restrictive bonds as Ronan lifted his sword to crack open the shield.

“I would advise against that course of action Ronan. You’ll regret it. I promise you.” Pride pointed toward the double doors as Lord Randal escorted the shielded figures of Danielle, Rika, Kelwin, and Keely through the open door.

Ronan’s stomach dropped. Hot panic touched the back of his mind as his world collapsed around him. He sank to his knees and stared through numb eyes watching the disaster unfold.

Bryson kicked Kelwin’s back, and the trapped warden flew forward slamming into the front of his detention shield before slumping to the ground. “I owe this bastard Your Majesty. Can I please kill him now?”

Pride raised a hand. “Patience young knight. Patience. Let’s savor our moment of victory. Elan has guided me to this moment. Let’s not spoil it.”

The muscles in Bryson’s jaw clenched and flexed as he nodded and stepped backward. “As you command Your Majesty.”

Ronan ripped free his gold plated armet and tossed it aside. His dark hair clung to his perspiration soaked head. “Don’t harm them Pride. Please. They’ve done nothing,” Ronan said.

Pride’s face remained a mask of quiet composure and control as he smiled with a look of smug satisfaction. “Quit groveling boy. Drop your weapon.”

Ronan dropped his shard blade, and it clamored off the cold marble floor. The red light pulsing through its core vanished, and the blade fell still and silent. He kicked it sending the blade skittering across the smooth polished stone until it stopped next to Merric Pride’s gleaming silver cane.

“You will kneel before me boy, but I have plans for you first. Now release your shard or I’ll kill every one of these people where they stand. Elan knows they deserve it.”

“No Ronan. Please don’t,” Rika’s chin quivered as her words came out husky and raw. Tears streamed down her face as she watched helpless behind the shield surrounding her.

Ronan’s eyes flickered toward Rika, but he couldn’t bear to hold her tear-stained gaze. He closed his eyes and focused inward on the essence that provided his magic. He found its smooth top buried deep inside like an ancient boulder stuck in dry desert soil.

Danielle reached out and slammed her fists against the shield surrounding her. Rage etched her face, but she remained powerless to provide any help. “You’ll pay for this Pride. I promise you.”

Ronan’s chest tightened as he pulled on the buried essence, but it resisted his effort. The shard’s entity clung to his soul refusing to budge and buried hooks in his mind.

Fresh rivulets of perspiration rolled from his hairline and down his forehead and cheeks. Ronan’s face trembled as deep shooting pain rippled through his chest and pounded behind his ears. He summoned his willpower and pulled with his last ounce of strength, and he screamed. The entity inside his body shrieked, and a deep snap echoed inside his head followed by an overwhelming sense of loss.

Yellow light flowed out of Ronan’s eyes, skin, and mouth hovering in a thin layer inches from his skin’s surface. It poured outward gathering around him like a shroud until the flows stopped. Bright light pulled inward coalescing into a shining pinpoint. A blinding flash split the air before expanding into the shard Ronan had stolen from Lord Randal’s mansion months earlier.

The glass-like shard hovered for a single heartbeat and clattered to the marble floor skittering to a stop inches from Ronan’s knees.

A vast emptiness settled over Ronan’s mind. The world surrounding him dulled, and he reached for the magic he’d come to rely on but found nothing. The staggering weight of the plate mail armor Ronan wore hit him like the force of a stone slab, and he tipped over. He tumbled to the ground arms and legs spread wide pinning him in place like a steel paperweight.

Bryson howled with laughter as he watched Ronan struggle under the armor’s weight. “Take a look at the mighty prince. Pathetic!” Contempt laced his words as he stared down at Ronan with condescension etched on his face. Several knights joined Bryson pointing and laughing at the once feared Meranthian prince pinned down by a suit of armor.

Bryson leered at Rika with lust in his bloodshot eyes. “Soon enough you’ll find out what it’s like to be with a real man.”

Pride ignored Bryson’s remarks as he stepped toward Ronan and retrieved the shard. “I’ll add this shard to the others your friends have provided Elan this day. What a boon for the righteous.” With a twist of his pasty-white wrist a detention shield surrounded Ronan, and he lay helpless on the polished floor. “Bryson and Jeremy, please remove the traitor’s armor.”

Bryson burst across the room and hovered over Ronan’s prone body. “Let me loosen it first Your Majesty. It looks a bit tricky.” Bryson brought back his plated boot and sent it flying into Ronan’s ribs with the full fury of a battle knight’s wrath.

White-hot pain burst across Ronan’s side as if a sword had sliced him apart. He heard the sickening sound of crunching in his ribs, and his vision blurred. Darkness crept at the edge of his vision as he laid motionless. The air in his lungs rushed out of his body leaving him straining for breath.

Rika cried out lunging forward, but met the shield wall’s resistance. “Please God don’t let him die.” She slumped to the ground as her body shook with sobs.

“Now, now Bryson. There’s plenty of time for that. Just the ring please,” Pride said.

Jeremy loosened the straps holding the armor together and cracked apart the front and back pieces of his breast plate.

Bryson reached down his eyes bubbling with red-hot hatred and gripped one of Ronan’s plate mail sleeves and yanked.

Ronan felt his shoulder muscle rip, and a fresh stab of sharp pain throbbed.

Danielle shrieked. “Stop! You’re killing him!”

Jeremy held up a hand. “I’ll get the rest Bryson before he dies.”

“Yes,” Pride said. “I need him alive. I want the world to see this man’s true character.”

Jeremy pried loose Ronan’s other sleeve then removed his breast plate and leggings before stepping away.

“Niles, fetch the ring from the traitor’s neck.”

Lord Randal scurried across the room and knelt over Ronan’s prone and shielded body. A hole in the shield parted, and he fished beneath Ronan’s tunic until he held the ring in his grip. “I have it Your Majesty.” His voice cracked with nervous excitement. He yanked it from Ronan’s neck, rose and crossed over to Merric Pride. Lord Randal dropped to one knee and bowed with dramatic flair handing the ring to Pride. “Your Majesty, Elan’s ring as you requested.”

Pride rolled his eyes. “Thank you Niles. Elan won’t forget your contribution.”

Ronan managed to sit up within the detention shield’s cramped confines. As he moved, fresh pain shot through his side, and his shoulder throbbed. His left arm hung limp, and he clung to consciousness by a sliver.

A large man entered the heart room through the open double doors wearing the leather armor common to Ayralen guardians.

“Arber!” Danielle said. “Run! Tell the prime guardian!”

Pride laughed and shook his head. “Silly girl.”

Arber passed by Danielle without reaction and stopped before Pride.

“Well, did you find it?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. He fished through a cloth satchel slung over his broad shoulder. His hand stopped, and he pulled forth a large glowing orb dancing with light. Arber cradled it in his palm before offering it to Pride “Lora’s Heart. Just like I promised.”

Tyrell’s Gift

The citadel guardsman lifted his heavy leather boot, placed it into the small of Ronan’s back, and shoved.

Ronan left his feet and flew through the prison cell’s open door slamming into the rough stone floor. He groaned as rivulets of fresh pain blossomed in his ribs and shoulder.

The fat guardsman laughed. “Not so high and mighty now are you Prince.” He spat on Ronan. “You smell as putrid as the rest of these dirty tree people.”

With Ronan’s face smashed into the stinking damp floor, his surrounding conditions became clear. Loud sorrowful moans came from a man’s voice a few cells down. Ronan’s body ached from the savage beating Bryson gave him, and sleeping on hard rock wouldn’t help.

The scent of urine and feces drifted into his cell forcing his throat to constrict. His stomach heaved, and he barely managed to hold back rising vomit. He gagged leaving his throat burning with hot stomach acid. He reached for his shard magic. He wanted nothing more than the pain and stench to recede, but stark emptiness greeted his futile effort. Emptiness that served to remind him of the day’s events leaving him humiliated and ashamed.

The guardsman slammed the door shut and twisted a heavy key in the cell’s iron lock. He turned his back on Ronan and walked along the citadel’s dungeon corridor twirling his key ring and whistling the chorus from “The King Marches Onward”.

Ronan lay motionless with his eyes closed tight as the guard’s footsteps receded. In the distance, he listened to a heavy door slam shut with a finality reserved for those who’ve tried and failed.

“Prince?” A voice said.

Ronan felt the hovering presence of someone standing over him and forced his body to roll over.

“You aren’t Prince Ronan Latimer by chance?” A thin Ayralen man with salt and pepper hair stood over Ronan wearing a ragged colonist’s uniform he’d seen from the death camps.

Sharp pain raced along Ronan’s side as he pushed himself to a seated position. He’d nothing left to lose by telling the truth. “I was a Prince. Now I’m a prisoner. But, yes, I’m Ronan Latimer.”

The man’s eyes sparkled. “It is you! You saved my Rika.”

Ronan focused on the aging man’s bright intelligent gray eyes, and it came to him in an instant. “Ambassador Finn?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he smiled and offered his hand to Ronan. ”I’m Rika’s father. Please, let me help you.”

Ronan grabbed Finn’s extended hand, and the older man helped him to his feet. “I’m glad to see you Ambassador,” Ronan winced as pain flared. “I can’t believe you’re still alive. How did you manage to wind up here?”

“Please, call me James.” He sat on an iron bench fastened to the stone wall by thick chains. “Do you have word of Rika? Is she alive?”

Ronan sat opposite Finn and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good James. Pride captured Rika and Kelwin when he caught me. He’s holding them here in Freehold. Somewhere.”

Finn sagged and slumped against the cell wall. “I’d hoped they’d go back to Ayralen.”

Ronan’s face flushed, and he stared at the ground. “I’m afraid they followed me into this mess.”