And then the horse had taken off back the way they’d come. It had surprised Bryan when he’d returned carrying the blacksmith. He’d been even more in shock that the blacksmith had the sword lifted. He’d been ready to use it. It would have been a sacrifice that spoke truth to Ronan’s protective nature of those he cared for.
Only a wizard could use the sword, and the first time would have to draw blood from one of the dark forces. If the blacksmith had used the weapon he would have fallen dead shortly after. Only a wizard could stand the power of the white metal. And bloodshed of someone not of the dark forces would have sucked Ronan’s soul from him and carried it to Sleagan himself. A horrible death for someone as good as the blacksmith’s eyes said he was.
Carron was dead. Bryan winced. They had buried him that night in the woods. It was Bryan’s fault. He had underestimated those they meant to intimidate. He’d underestimated the woman. The disguise she wore was effective.
Bryan shivered. Even her eyes hadn’t given her away. But Bryan wasn’t stupid. He’d seen just a moment before the lightening had struck. The wrinkles of her face had disappeared, the magic she cloaked herself in had weakened slightly. He’d seen her true nature and it was not one he wished to see again.
There was little that frightened Bryan. He tossed his blond hair from his face. But that woman had caused fear to rise within him and it remained even now, as he stood watching them. He had to think of a way to get rid of her before she did more damage than she already had. She’d killed his brother but she would hurt Ronan Culley more deeply if she wasn’t stopped.
The blacksmith was calling them to ride. The woman and boy looked to complain but they followed Ronan and Keegan’s example and mounted their horses. Bryan raised a hand to alert the others that they were moving again. They would be at the river soon enough. No doubt the woman was attempting to figure a way to destroy the raft as she had the bridge.
Bryan was certain she was the one who had done it. She was the only one powerful enough. In one night it had been torn down. The very night before the blacksmith led them there.
Even the heavily built horseman couldn’t have done such damage in one night. And the ropes of the bridge had been cut at both shores. Only someone with the power to cross the river on the wind could manage the task. And her display of power had told him clearly enough he control she held over the wind.
And the blacksmith had not suspected her. In the past hours, Bryan had seen the devotion Ronan had to the woman. He’d accepted her explanation of power. He’d allowed her to tend his wounds. He trusted her. Bryan wasn’t sure why but he would keep close. The blacksmith might trust her, but Bryan didn’t. At the river, he would send the other back home. Bryan would follow Ronan Culley the rest of the way. Perhaps, before the blacksmith got to Merisgale he could convince him to give him the sword.
Need burned within Bryan’s chest. If he could get the sword, he could end his people’s strife. He could give them a chance at normal lives. But there was a darker worry that rested heavily within Bryan. If the woman got the sword before he did, they were all doomed. It would end the freedom of many more people than just the centaurs. Bryan couldn’t let that happen.
Five
Keegan groaned lowly as they approached the raft. It seemed they weren’t the only ones on the way to Fullerk. Another traveler was already dropping gold coins into the wrinkled hand of the old man who ran the crossing. No doubt the gold being exchanged had come from the selling of stolen goods.
“Mikel the Hort,” Ronan said aloud as he pulled at Sorcha’s reins. He glanced at the others. Arien actually appeared happy to see the nervous little guy. Ula looked as if she cared less and Keegan, of course, was not happy in the least. The changeling looked up and his eyes widened.
“You are going this way too? Don’t kill me! The bridge was down. I had to come to the raft! I had no choice. Look, I’ll pay your fare. See? I mean no harm. I won’t steal from you.” Mikel dropped a few more gold pieces into the man’s hand. Ronan laughed at the words Mikel spoke quickly.
“There will be no killings today if I can help it,” Ronan said between chuckles and relief washed Mikel’s face. “And we appreciate your generosity.” The changeling had obviously been more intimidated on their last meeting than Ronan had suspected. Poor, little fellow. He couldn’t help but to feel sorry for the nervous changeling. He reminded Ronan very much of a frightened mouse.
“I thought you were more picky about who you took across the river, Grayson.” Keegan frowned down at the old man. He was clearly not as at ease with the changeling as Ronan. And he did nothing to hide his dislike for the little man.
“Not many traveling round or wanting to cross lately.” The old man looked at Ronan, “I believe you are to blame for that, Yore. You and your blacksmith.” Keegan’s frown deepened as his eyes narrowed on the guilty expression of the changeling and Ronan almost laughed. So Mikel had been running his mouth.
“I didn’t tell that many people,” the changeling defended himself quickly. “Just the few I came across along the way. Two were old and are probably dead by now.” Ronan laughed again causing Mikel’s mouth to curve a little.
“No doubt a centaur or two as well,” Keegan growled as he kicked his horse forward onto the raft.
“Horses cost a bit more.” Grayson waited and Mikel reluctantly gave him a few more pieces before hurrying to step onto the raft along with the others.
“I saw no centaurs.” The changeling shook his head but Keegan didn’t look as if he believed him. “I swear it.”
“The word of a thief?” Keegan snorted. Ronan wanted to tell the horseman to give the changeling a chance but opted to keep quiet. It was best to let him do what he thought was best. There had been times when Keegan’s judgment was better than his own. Ronan remembered the bridge.
“I steal. I don’t lie,” Mikel snapped, and then darted around the horses, positioning himself as far away from the horseman as he could.
Ronan reached over and steadied Ula’s horse when he danced nervously on the wood planks of the raft. “I don’t like this,” the woman murmured. Ronan gave her hand a pat, wishing to reassure her.
“It only takes fifteen minutes, remember? Then it will be over,” he offered. But his words didn’t seem to console her. Instead she looked ill and her shoulders slumped.
“You don’t know this river, Sir Culley. But you soon will find out. The river is dangerous,” she whispered. Ronan studied her for a moment. She’d been so powerful before. Now she appeared almost child-like, frightened and cowering.
His eyes drifted to the water. It looked like any other river he’d ever seen. Nothing special. Glancing back, Ronan squinted toward the woods. He could barely make out Bryan’s outline. The rest were gone. Only one centaur remained to follow. He wondered why but was thankful. One would be easier to deal with than five. And there was something oddly comforting about Bryan’s presence. It made him feel truly protected.
“Heyyyyyy.” The changeling reached up to touch Ronan’s leg but in an instant Keegan had drawn his sword and pressed it to the little man’s throat. Ronan stared at the hard look in Keegan’s eyes, surprised at his reaction.
“Do not touch him.” Keegan’s voice was dangerously low.
Mikel gave a little squeak as his eyes rounded and his hand snapped back. “I…I just wanted to see the sword. I never saw a King’s Sword before. Don’t kill me.” The poor changeling was quaking where he stood. Ronan shook his head slightly at Keegan and the man let the point of his sword drop from Mikel’s neck. But his eyes remained hard.