The King's Sword (22 page)

“Before we feast, you must be made one of the Johran,” Yarro said as he tore his eyes from the magic that moved around them. “One of your companions must offer you some of their flesh.”

Before any of the others could move, Fiona had drawn her sword. Black tipped spearheads pointed at her from every direction. Ronan realized the obsidian tips of the spears were poison.

Fiona didn’t even flinch. She placed her hand on a nearby stump, lifted the blade of her sword and brought it down swiftly. The fine metal made a clean cut, slicing off two of her fingers. She closed her eyes to the pain and the tip of her sword hit the ground. She leaned against the hilt, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Is that enough for the ritual?”

“It is.” Yarro nodded. Ronan could only stare for a moment, and then he was rushing forward, ripping material from his shirt to wrap her hand with, to stop the flow of blood that poured onto the stump.

“Dragon’s Blood! Fiona, what have you done?” He slipped an arm beneath hers as she swayed.

“I’m a Serpentine. It’s a small wound. They will grow back in a few days.” She murmured as her lips paled. “I wanted you to know I was not the one who betrayed you. I would not.”

“Ula!” Ronan cried out and the woman moved forward quickly.

“I could not betray you.” She fainted dead away in Ronan’s arms.

“Give her some of that broth you gave me. She should not feel the pain of what she has done.” Ronan scooped Fiona up and passed her to Bryan.

“You may take her to that hut.” Yarro directed the centaur and sorceress to one of the small buildings. “There is more than enough food here and we have women that can cook it for us. Tend to your woman. She was very brave.”

Ronan watched Bryan carry Fiona away with Ula following before lowering his eyes to the two fingers left on the stump.

“I’m going to be sick,” Arien said, turning and pushing through the crowd of tribesmen, clutching his stomach. Keegan and Mikel the Hort just stood staring as if disbelieving what they had just witnessed.

“I’d have had to have someone else do it for me,” Keegan finally said.

“Bring me the flesh,” Yarro called. “The ritual must be completed.”

Ronan carefully picked up the slender fingers and turned to step toward Yarro. The leader took one from him and began to smear marks of blood from it on Ronan’s face and then on his own.

He spoke beneath his breath in a dialect that was unfamiliar but Ronan barely heard him anyway. Fiona had made the sacrifice without hesitation. She’d said she loved him.

“We must both eat of the flesh.” Yarro reached forward and ripped the nail off the finger.

“Without cooking it?” Mikel the Hort looked horrified but Ronan felt numb to everything. He’d never had anyone shed blood on his behalf. Fiona had done it without him having to ask her. He looked down at the finger he still held. If he did not eat it, Fiona’s bloodshed would be for nothing.

His stomach clenched but he brought the pink flesh to his lips. Closing his eyes, he stifled the feeling of nausea that threatened and bit into the meat. He imagined a tough piece of gristle on one of the fowls Ula had cooked days ago, imagined that was what he ate. The taste was salty and a bit sweet but he kept his mind locked on the taste of the bird. He did not stop until there was no meat left on the small bone.

“You only needed to take a bite but you show your devotion by ingesting it all,” Yarro said when Ronan held out the bone for his inspection. He felt lightheaded but pushed the dizziness aside.

“You are cleansed. We welcome you Stone Wizard Ronan of the Johran.” Yarro smiled and took the bone from Ronan. He tossed it along with his into the fire as if to seal the union. Cheers rose up from the crowd and the tribesmen rushed forward, each wanting to embrace the newest member of their family.

* * *

Ronan sat by Fiona’s cot, staring down at the delicate features of her face until she stirred from sleep. “Well hello there,” he said when her lids flicked open and she smiled up at his face. “If you wanted to rest, you could have just told me so. No need to chop off your arm to get my attention.”

Fiona’s smile widened and she lifted her wrapped hand. “Funny. I don’t really feel any pain.”

“Ula’s magic broth,” Ronan told her and she let her hand fall back to her side. “Good for stab wounds and missing fingers.”

“Are you Johran now?” she asked as she moved to sit up. Ronan leaned away from her, sliding the candle on the floor closer. He nearly laughed when he realized it was stupid to do. She could see as well in the dark as in the light.

“I am. A cannibal stone wizard by night, blacksmith by day.” He slanted a smile of good humor and she chuckled.

“Why stone wizard? What made Keegan come up with something like that?” Fiona swung her feet to the earthen floor. Ronan spotted a pebble in the corner, lifted it with his will and twirled it in the air in front of Fiona.

“He caught me tossing stones in the lake at Jobi. It was just his way of poking fun at me,” Ronan admitted letting the pebble drop. “It’s the only thing I know how to do right now.”

“Cute and it’s a clever name.” Fiona glanced around the sod hut. “How long do we have to stay here?”

“Only a few days. It was Yarro’s request and in return he will give us a guide through the hills to the moors. I guess there are greater dangers here than the being eaten.” Ronan stood when she rose to her feet. “That was very brave thing you did, Fiona. I’m not sure what to say about it.”

“Thank you?” she suggested with a grin.

He leaned toward her and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Thank you. But you must promise me never to do anything like that again,” he murmured, “I’ll not have you returning to Merisgale in pieces.”

“Yes, well, too much excitement in the day and I can’t settle my mind enough to rest.” Ronan shrugged as he reached for her injured hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the bandage.

“They will grow back. It is not a limb so it’s not permanent. In two weeks I’ll have two new fingers, good as the others.” Fiona bit her lip when he didn’t release her hand. “How did I taste?” She smiled crookedly when he raised his gaze to her face.

“Good.”

“They say once you eat of flesh…”

“I thought of that water fowl that Ula served us as I was eating. She’d spiced it enough that it was easy to recall the taste and texture,” he interrupted then grinned almost evilly. “Afraid I enjoyed it and think to have another bite?”

“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.

Thirteen

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?”