The King's sword

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.

Fighting to remain conscious, Ronan rolled out of the way of Keegan’s horse charging after the centaurs. The man looked like he’d almost become centaur himself, one with the animal he rode. Ronan was surprised to see Ula bent forward on her own animal, looking very much the witch with her hair flapping behind her. He clutched at his head and staggered forward.

Come back. Ronan’s desperate thoughts pounded against his temple in pain. Ahearn, bring me my sword back! Ronan forced himself to head down the road, praying that Arien wasn’t killed for his stupidity. Maybe the boy would just give them the damned weapon to spare his life. They could always get it back.

Bruised skin bubbled and swelled beneath Ronan’s fingers, easing blood out onto his hand. Still, he continued forward, blocking out the pain that summoned attention. He had to get to Arien.

The sound of a horse approaching moments later caused Ronan to look up. Ahearn stopped in front of Ronan, breath blowing heavily from his nose. At first Ronan did not move. Had the horse heard his silent plea? Ahearn snorted as if in answer.

Fear suddenly leapt in Ronan’s throat. He didn’t stop to think, reaching to pull himself onto Ahearn’s back. His hand connected to the cool metal of the King’s Sword. It had gotten caught in the reins and held on. But where was Arien?

As he swung onto the horse, rage filled him. What if the boy was killed? Ronan bent forward as he’d seen Ula do when Ahearn headed back up the road in a full gallop. His fingers gripped the hilt of the sword, and he promised himself that he would cut off Bryan’s blond head if Arien had been killed.

“Faster,” Ronan growled and to his surprise Ahearn leaned into the run, forcing his legs to pump harder. Around the bend and the horse reared up as he halted. Ronan’s eyes were wide as they fell to Arien’s crumpled body. Keegan and Ula stood, surrounded by the centaurs while Sorcha, Dermot, and Keegan’s horses struggled to untie themselves from a tree.

Keegan brandished a sword and Ula gripped her mule rock ribbon, clearly ready to use it as a weapon if she was made to. She was murmuring something that Ronan could only guess was some kind of protective spell. He prayed that someone heard her voice. One of the centaurs was bleeding and he saw that Keegan’s sword showed evidence of a strike. They were doing all they could to protect Arien. Thick emotion tore through Ronan and pushed him to kick Ahearn forward, raising the sword.

“If you make me use this, I will be the next King of Meris and you can be sure the lives you live now will seem like that of royalty for I will make everyone of your kind into the kind of slaves you could not even imagine.” Ronan’s voice lifted, bounced off the trees around them with conviction. Every one of them looked at him as Ahearn neared.

“You are the blacksmith.” Bryan shifted his stance, staring at Ronan.

“I am also a royal guard and you may name me king in a few moments.” Ronan met Bryan’s eyes. “I am not like the boy. I do not bluff and I will kill the lot of you if I must.” Bryan’s blue eyes widened and Ronan could read easily that the centaur knew he spoke the truth. Ahearn pranced a little as if liking the prospect of a fight but neither Ronan’s gaze nor balance wavered.

“Not before we kill them first.” Bryan nodded to Arien and one of the centaurs lifted a hoof to hover above the boy’s head. Ronan knew Bryan saw his body stiffen. He hadn’t expected the man to use the boy against him. It had been stupid to think he wouldn’t.

“You made a mistake, blacksmith. You came back for those you cared for. It is true you have the weapon, but you give us one of our own to use. And we will use it.”