“Warning me?” Arien laughed. “I’ve seen you use your magic, Wihr. You can do nothing to me. Now give that sword to Thestian or I will cut out her throat.” Ronan’s hand trembled.
“No, Ronan,” Ula croaked. Ronan cursed loudly, but threw the sword to the ground. Arien smiled and glanced at Thestian when he hurried to pick it up.
“I told you. He is weak.”
“Finish them,” Thestian ground out.
Ronan turned as SleaganSleagan started back inside the gates.
“Which one first?” Arien’s face twisted in a sneer that made him unrecognizable to Ronan. “I think I’ll start with Ula Baen. I’ve put enough poison into Fiona’s arm that she will be dead in a few hours anyway.”
“Nooooooooo!” A shadow at the gates crouched, snarling, and leapt through the air onto Arien’s back. Ronan watched Arien cry out and twist as the claws of the small creature dug in and drew blood. Ula ducked but not quick enough and Arien’s blade dragged across her throat as she freed herself from his grip. A red line appeared on Ula’s neck but she shook her head, pressing her fingers against it.
“It’s not deep,” she whispered.
“What is that thing?” Keegan stepped to Ronan’s side but Ronan shook his head. It looked like a large rat but the claws and teeth resembled that of a wildcat. And it moved so quickly that Arien could not catch it. It scratched, bit, and then scurried to a new point of attack.
Arien finally grabbed the small beast by its leg and slung it away from his body. It hit the stone wall of the keep with a yelp and in an instant transformed into a man, one that Ronan was surprised to recognize as Mikel the Hort.
Ronan started forward as Arien spun, raised his dagger, the blade creating an arch over Fiona’s limp body. “Monty!” Ronan bellowed and as if waiting for that moment, in a rush of wind the wizard swooped down, knocking Arien away from Fiona and to the ground. The dagger hit the wall of the keep.
“Give me your sword!” Ronan shouted and Keegan handed him the sword. He bent down and picked up Arien’s dagger, turned it in his hand.
“Nice blade. Make it yourself?” Keegan struck quickly, thrusting the dagger into Arien’s stomach.
“Ula, help me.” The boy’s eyes rounded. Ula turned her head and wept as she backed away.
“Monty, can you get me over that wall?” Ronan called, shrugging away his own sorrow. He’d never suspected Arien. Monty plucked Ronan from the ground and in seconds was dropping him to the other side of the wall.
“Bust out that door,” Ronan told him before heading toward the castle doors. He slipped inside and closed his eyes.
“What?” Someone called aloud and Ronan opened his eyes.
“Thestian is no wizard. He is Sleagan,” Ronan answered. “We have to stop him and save Robusk!” Others had appeared and Ronan realized they were each wizards of the high council, past kings of Merisgale.
“Where is he? Where is Thestian now?” One of them asked.
“Somewhere in the castle. I’m certain of it.” Ronan gripped his sword.
“And Robusk?”
“I…I don’t know. It looks like a dungeon with no windows. He’s very weak.” Ronan had no time for this! He headed for the stairs.
“You are Ronan Culley,” One of them called. “You are the wizard we heard Robusk name as next King.”
Ronan didn’t hesitate in his stride, taking the steps two at a time.
He found himself in a great hallway. He entered every room and then halted when he opened a door to a chamber filled with swords. It was a huge room with enormous swords along the back wall. Normal sized swords were showcased in velvet-lined pedestals. The chamber of swords.
A maid screamed when he turned down a corridor. “Where is Thestian?” Ronan demanded and she pointed frantically toward the other end of the corridor. Ronan ran past her. So much for loyalty to the named king, he thought smugly.
“Blacksmith!” Thestian’s scream echoed from the room to his right moments before the door opened. “This is not the King’s Sword!”
“No.” Ronan shook his head and swung the sword he held with all his might but Thestian brought the fake sword up quickly and blocked the strike.
“Give me the sword!” He screeched.
“Get your own. This one is mine.” Ronan swung again and then again. Each time Thestian blocked the strike. Thestian’s eyes darkened and Ronan felt the stone floors began to shake.
“Give…me…the…sword!” Thestian lifted a hand and a blast of heat hit Ronan in the chest sending him backward into the stone wall. Ronan struggled to catch his breath when he fell to the floor. He pulled himself to his feet.
“You are no match for me, blacksmith. Your magic is weak and your mind is weaker.” SleaganSleagan snarled as darkness swept up the corridor. “Give me the sword.”
“He was going to kill Fiona.” Ula’s voice found his ears and he turned to find her pushing her way through the crowd of wizards and castle servants. Some of the King’s court had gathered with them.
Ronan looked back at Thestian’s wild eyes. “He sent Arien to betray us and Diato to kill you and Fiona. He means to kill you, Ronan!”
“I’m not strong enough,” Ronan called back and Thestian smiled as he nodded.
“Yes, you are.” Ula was weeping. When he looked at her again, her face had changed. It was the face of his mother staring back at him, her blue eyes pleading for him to listen to her.
“Don’t let me die, Ronan. Save me. If you don’t they will kill us all!”
Thestian rushed forward but Ronan suddenly turned, sorrow and rage pumping through his veins. A blast of white light filled the room around them, pushing the darkness back, and Thestian’s face twisted with pain.
“Yes, Ronan. Save me.”
Ronan brought the sword up and drove it into Thestian’s chest. For a moment Thestian stared back at him, then blinked and looked down at the blade.
“That’s right you maniacal bastard. It’s not the King’s Sword.”
“Fool. You can not kill me with simple weapons,” Thestian hissed.
Knowing that he had to act quickly, Ronan drove every ounce of power he could summon into blade. Thestian twisted and writhed, screaming out.
“No but I can cause you pain.” Ronan shoved the sword deeper, using it as a channel for the current of emotion that had transformed into magic. SleaganSleagan threw his head back and howled. It was sound that thundered through the castle and caused those watching to shrink back.
Ronan could feel Thestian fighting against his magic but he was failing. Like the River Blanch, he began to still. Finally he ceased the struggle between their magic and thrust himself back and off of the sword’s blade. And then he was gone, taking the darkness with him.
Silence followed as Ronan felt himself falling. “Ula.” Right before he drifted into darkness, he felt her wrinkled hands catch his head.
“Ronan?” Ula’s voice parted the thick darkness and Ronan opened his eyes to stare up at her wrinkled face.
“That was a cruel trick, witch,” Ronan whispered weakly and Ula nodded, lifting her hand to caress his face.
“But it worked. I knew if I affected you deeply enough, your power would take over and do what needed to be done.” Ula pressed her lips to his temple. “But you are right. It was cruel and I hated doing it.”
“I’m glad you did.” Ronan closed his eyes and then opened them again. “I’m so weary.”
“I know,” Ula soothed, stroking his head as if he were just a child. “But you drove Sleagan away from Merisgale.”
“Yes. Not as stupid as he thought, was I?” Ronan opened his eyes again and despite the pounding in his head and the ache in his body, he forced himself to sit up.
“King Culley!” The small crowd of onlookers cheered and Ronan’s eyes swung to those around them. He raised his hands, shaking his head.
“I’m no King,” he called out, silencing all. “I’m a blacksmith.”
