Only a wizard could use the sword. And Ronan had used it several times. But he’d drawn no blood. He certainly wouldn’t be allowed to use it against the dark forces. The consequences of that were more than Ronan wanted to consider at the moment. He would have to learn to use his wizard powers without the sword. That was the only alternative.
His eyes lowered to a smaller stone below him. He focused on it. Could he move it without the use of his hands? As a boy, it would have been an easy trick. But that was years ago. He concentrated. Nothing happened and Ronan sighed heavily.
He just wanted the stone to move! Suddenly the stone skittered across the bank of the lake and plopped into the pond. Ronan stared at the spot it had disappeared. Stupid. The power worked through will.
Ronan willed the rock to float back to the surface and it did easily. He wove it through the melody of raindrops, like a little white boat chugging across the water. Then it skipped, rocking side to side so that it splashed up water as it went.
“Playing in the rain?” Keegan’s deep voice brought a smile to Ronan’s face.
“I’d hoped I wouldn’t be caught.” He looked down at the horseman who stood watching the little stone’s water dance. Keegan did not look surprised at Ronan’s use of magic. No doubt they all knew.
“I suppose you are feeling the burdens of your life just tripled.” Keegan rested his foot on the boulder, folding his arms over his deep chest.
Ronan looked back at the little rock as he tumbled it across the surface. “As if my life is no longer made by choice but by obligation.” He sighed, lifting the stone in the air so he could twirl it around by will.
“You always have choice,” Keegan argued. “You made a choice to take up the cause of delivering the sword. It may not have been a choice you felt was fair at the time, but it was a choice.”
Ronan nodded. The horseman was right. “I never wanted to be a wizard,” he admitted.
“I can’t say that I blame you. I hear they have no women at the monasteries.” Keegan smiled when Ronan grinned down at him. “And you would have had to spend most of your life there.”
“I’ve also heard they are very much like prisons.” Ronan willed the stone closer, having it toss in the air as if manipulated by an invisible hand.
“Prison is a place that you are bound. At least a monastery you graduate from.” Keegan’s voice was low, causing Ronan to glance down at him.
“What did you do before you bred and raised horses?” He hoped Keegan wouldn’t dismiss the subject again.
Keegan sighed heavily. “I was not the same man you see before you today. I was wild and had nothing in life to show me what I could be. I was like Arien, orphaned and left on my own. Arien found you before trouble could find him. I found no one.”
“What kind of trouble found you?” Ronan pressed, forgetting his stone play.
“I…I killed a man.” Ronan could tell it was difficult for Keegan to say the words. “I killed him with my bare hands.” The horseman’s eyes locked on the toe of his boot that rested against the white of the boulder.
“Once you kill a man, and you are of a bad sort anyway, you can wager your soul that you will kill again,” Keegan murmured.
“And did you?”
“Yes. Many times,” Keegan answered honestly. “I was numb to it, chased away my conscious with liquor and women. I had nothing to lose. The world was against me anyway. I was certain I would die so I would live recklessly as I pleased until that day.”
“What happened that changed you?” Ronan tried to imagine the man as he described but could not.
“I was sent to Merisgale prison when I killed a King’s guard. I didn’t know he was a guard. Stupid. It was over a woman.” Keegan frowned. “I spent many years there. I had a cellmate, Orin Yore. He saw something in me worth saving.”
“Yore is not your given name?” Ronan watched Keegan shake his head.
“Orin chose me a new name and gave me his last. He said I needed a new name for my new birth in life.” Keegan sighed. “He set me in the right direction and his last request was that I was freed from prison. They granted him that wish and that’s when I started over, with horses.”
Ronan could see the sadness in the man’s expression. “That’s a life most would not see in you.”
Keegan smiled. “No, they don’t. I tell you now, only because I mean to tell you that every choice you make can lead you somewhere better, no matter how difficult it may seem at the time you make it.”
Ronan grew silent, thought about his words, accepting the bit of wisdom the horseman offered selflessly.
For a moment, Keegan lingered, then turned to retreat back into the cave.
“What was your name before you went to prison?” Ronan called after him.
“It does not matter now.” Keegan mumbled before disappearing into the cave.
Ronan stared after him then turned back to the lake. His eyes found the rock, hovering in the air, awaiting his will to bid it movement. With just a blink of his eyes, Ronan sent the stone lightening fast through the air, to the other side of the lake. Where it landed was where Ronan left it.
Jobi village was even smaller than Ronan had imagined. “I know these people.” Fiona called from Ula’s horse. “Let me talk to them first.” Ronan inclined his head as they rode into the village. Within moments, every person who dwelled there had stepped to the side of the road, scrutinizing them curiously.
Fiona swung to the ground. “Be at peace, people of Jobi.” She lifted her voice, so all around them could hear. “I travel with the wizard Ronan, his woman, and two of the King’s guard to Merisgale. We carry the King’s Sword to the wizard Thestian.” A few gasps echoed through the small crowd but the caution in their eyes lifted. Ronan imagined a village this small could not be too trusting of travelers.
“I wish to speak with Smellir.” She turned to Ronan and gave him a nod so he swung from Sorcha’s back, aware that every one of the villager’s had their gazes locked on him. “The wizard Ronan requires another horse and your hospitality.”
The crowd suddenly came alive. Women bustled to bring food forward to those who’d ridden into their village. A couple of men brought forth their horses for Ronan to choose from. Boys moved to care for the Dulcet horses, eyes shining with their eagerness to please, while the girls, especially those closer to womanhood, stood back watching the men of the party curiously.
“Keegan Yore is an expert in fine horses. He will pick for me.” Ronan told the men and they turned to the large man that dismounted when Ronan lifted a hand in his direction.
“My horse is the fastest of any of these,” One of the men spoke when Keegan faced them.
“But mine is stronger,” Another said.
“Nags. This is a fine horse, gentle for even the least experienced rider.” Still another one piped. Keegan had to call for them to be silent several times while he inspected the horses. Ronan left him to it, following Fiona when someone started to lead her away from the crowd.
“Who is Smellir?” Ronan asked lowly at her side.
“He is the leader over this village,” Fiona answered. “It is a sign of respect if you request an audience with him when passing through the village on important business.”
“I see.”
Fiona glanced at Ronan. “He may help us if the centaur comes this way.” Ronan glanced back at the crowd. He wasn’t sure how, unless they mobbed Bryan and worshipped him to death.
The one that led them stepped aside when they approached the doorway of a small thatched house. Ronan stepped inside behind Fiona, eyes sweeping the interior. A cot, small table, and a few clay pots hanging in the corners. Nothing more. And seated at the table was a short man with a very round middle.