“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.
“Then you die today,” Bryan answered without hesitation.
“No!” Arien kicked Ahearn forward, causing Ronan to frown at the boy, wanting to box his ears for not keeping quiet. But Arien’s eyes were wild and he trembled though Ronan could not be sure if it were from fear or devotion to him.
“Get back,” Ronan said lowly and raised his voice slightly when the boy did not obey. “I said to get back, boy.”
“Forgive me but I will not.” Arien shook his head, and then looked at Bryan. “I am the blacksmith you seek. I carry the King’s Sword.” Behind them, Ula groaned lowly.
“Then give it to me.” Bryan smirked. It was clear he did not believe the boy was who he claimed to be. He would have been a fool if he did. Ronan assumed it was evident now which of them was really the blacksmith.
“What are you doing?” Ronan demanded, and then nearly fell from the horse when Arien swiped the bundled sword from Sorcha’s pack.
“If you want this thing, then come and get it!” Arien let the leather fall back and the white metal of The King’s Sword shown brightly in the sun. Ronan reached to take it back but Arien kicked Ahearn and they both went flying forward. The centaurs wasted no time and in moments were in pursuit.
The whole world seemed to quake beneath the impact of the centaurs’ hooves hitting the road. It rumbled through Ronan’s chest in the split second he remained still. Their powerful legs echoed the strength each one possessed as they chased after the sword.
“Dragon’s blood!” Ronan cursed into the thunder of the chase and kicked his own horse forward in a full gallop, praying Sorcha would do most of the work. “Arien!” Ronan called as the boy disappeared around a bend but he was ignored.
Sorcha was as fast as Keegan had said she was and was quickly passing the centaurs on the road. Ronan felt the muscles of her moving beneath him and realized suddenly how powerful Keegan’s horses really were. However, he did not have the advantage of being connected to the beast he rode and Bryan’s heavy fist knocked him from Sorcha’s back. Blackness threatened to overtake him when his head cracked against a stone.