Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (12 page)

Ronan adjusted the sound level and tuned in Fiona’s conversation without any problem.

“Can I get you boys any napkins?” Fiona said.

“Excuse me?” The man said.

“I said, can I get you boys any napkins, so you can wipe the drool from your chin.”

The men’s faces turned scarlet, and they jerked their leering gaze from Fiona’s low-cut dress.

The women howled with laughter as Fiona sauntered away smiling.

Fiona stepped up to Ronan and Rika’s table, leaned over, and began wiping the table in front of Ronan. She placed her cleavage inches from Ronan’s face. “Let me clean this table for you Peter. I don’t understand how some people can make such a mess.”

Ronan forced his gaze from Fiona’s cleavage. “Thanks Fiona, but I saw Master McClaren wiping it down when we came in.”

A smile spread across her sweet freckled face as she looked at Ronan and winked. “Oh? He must’ve missed a spot.” She stood without taking her eyes from Ronan. ”What can I get you tonight?”

“I’m starving Fiona. I’d like some hot bread with butter and an extra-large bowl of lamb stew. Also, I’ll have an ale. But bring me the stuff Master McClaren keeps in the back, not the regular house brew.”

She tilted her head and ran her fingers through Ronan’s dark hair. “You look delicious tonight. Did you get a new haircut?”

Ronan blushed. “Nope. Same old me.”

Rika’s brow narrowed, and she glared daggers at Fiona.

“There’s something different about you, but I can’t put my finger on it.” Her gaze wandered over his face and chest. She sighed. “Okay then. I’ll have your supper in a minute.” She spun and moved to leave.

“Hey,” Rika said. “You forgot to take my order.”

“Oh, I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry love,” Fiona said.

Rika buried the serving girl with her cold stare. “Bring me the same as Peter.”

“Suit yourself.” Fiona turned up her pert nose, spun, and sauntered away disappearing into the crowded inn.

“If that girl could undress you with her eyes, she’d have you naked right this second,” Rika said.

“I think she likes big tips more than she likes me,” Ronan said.

“If you believe that, you’re blind.”

Ronan shifted in his seat. “Rika, I found something tonight at House Randal I’d like you to see.” He fished in his breast pocket and produced the folded drawing.

“What’s that?” She said.

“When I was waiting for the drug to affect the guards I ducked into a study. There were all sorts of books and papers on Lord Randal’s desk. I found maps for both Freehold and greater Meranthia. There were some notes written on the Freehold map, but I couldn’t make out the language.”

She pointed to the folded paper laying on the table. “Is that the map?”

“No. I found this under the map.” He unfolded the drawing spreading it wide open across the table.

She picked it up, and her eyes widened in surprise. “It’s your ring.”

He nodded. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

When Rika flipped over the drawing, her brow furrowed. “It says here location unknown.”

“I can’t make sense of that. It’s been in our family for generations. My mother never mentioned it had any significance beyond sentimental.”

“Do you think Lord Randal is using those maps to try and find your ring?”

“I don’t know. Lord Randal is searching for something. Maybe the drawing is a coincidence, but my gut tells me otherwise. Lord Randal is Merric Pride’s right hand man and that’s enough reason to keep it away from him.”

“Who can we ask?” Rika said.

“Sir Alcott might know something, but only Elan knows where to find him.”

Fiona reappeared with a tray full of bread, stew, and ale. She served the food then faced Ronan smiling. “Grab me if you need anything else love.” She paused staring at Ronan with parted lips. “Anything.”

“We’re good. You can go now. Shoo.” Rika waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

Fiona glared at Rika then stormed away.

Ronan picked up the drawing. “I want to unravel this mystery too, but we’ll have to deal with it later. Right now, we need to plan our next move.”

“What did you have in mind?” Rika took a bite of her stew.

“We won’t find safe haven in Freehold after tonight. Commander Renault won’t stop until he sees us dead.”

“We can’t run. I need to understand what happened to my father, and I’m not going anywhere until I know if he’s dead or alive,” Rika said.

“We’re not running. We’ve worked for the last five years to get this far. I have the power to destroy Pride, and we can use it to find your father.” He ripped off a chunk of warm bread, dunked it in his lamb stew, and swallowed it whole.

Rika laughed so hard she choked on her ale. She leaned over the table and lowered her voice. “You think because you took on a shard’s power that you have everything you need to kill the king? How do you propose we do that? At least a dozen shard knights would be on us before we made it fifty feet near Pride. We have to give this careful consideration and planning.”

Ronan leveled his gaze. “I know secrets Rika. Secrets that nobody else knows.”

Rika sighed. “What secrets Ronan? Tell me.”

“I know another way into the palace that will take us straight to the royal wing. Besides Master Tyrell, I’m the only person alive who knows about it.”

“I don’t know Ronan. It’s a rash move. Let’s sleep on it.”

He took a deep swig from his tankard of McClaren’s finest. “Trust me. If it starts going bad, we’ll get out.”

“How will we do that?” She said.

“The same way we got in. I know secret passages that lead to every important room in the palace.”

Rika wore an expression of doubt on her face. “Fine, fine. Let’s finish eating, go home, and we’ll plan it out in the morning. I’m exhausted.”

“In the morning? We can’t wait that long. Every shard knight in Freehold is after us. They’ll turn over every rock looking for us.” He swallowed the last bite of stew and settled back. “No. We’re going now.”

Her eyes widened. “Now! You’ve gone mad.”

“The way I see it, the palace is the last place one of Pride’s thugs will think to search for us. They’ll be searching everywhere but there. I expect two or three shard knights at most, and they won’t be guarding the king.” He tipped back the tankard of ale finishing off the last few drops and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Tonight, Rika, is the night. You’ll get your answers, and we take down Pride.”

Gulley’s Surprise

The wrought iron gates to Freehold’s largest cemetery stood open giving way to a shroud of darkness. Fang shaped spikes protruded from each iron bar like a collection of spears, and twenty foot stone walls extended along its perimeter dissuading vagrants and grave robbers.

A slight breeze stirred carrying the scent of dead grass and the sound of dry rustling leaves. Crickets chirped behind the stone walls, but no other sign of life stirred in the midsummer night.

Ronan’s stomach rolled, and his skin prickled. He didn’t want to enter the graveyard. Nobody did which made it the ideal place to hide a secret entrance. “It’s in there.” He pointed toward the gate.

“Why am I not surprised?” Rika said.

He moved through the gate and kept a steady pace walking past row after row of headstones, gravestones, and empty plots.

The moonlight’s glow showed mausoleums sprinkled throughout the vast landscape of the cemetery grounds.

Ronan continued deeper into the graveyard searching for the ancient crypt of a man long since forgotten in Meranthian history, Jerryl Gulley. Gulley designed and built Freehold’s Royal Palace over a thousand years ago.

Many renovations, expansions, and repairs made the palace a far different building than its original design, but its bones remained intact. The original palace Gulley built a millennium ago still held secrets. Secrets held only by royalty. The secrets of hidden passages, shadowed hallways, and secret rooms passed from generation to generation.

Ronan passed through an old rusted gate into the oldest section of the graveyard built during Gulley’s lifetime.

Ancient headstones with faded epitaphs sat next to mounds of unrecognizable crumbled rock. Freehold’s original sons took their final rest beneath these ancient burial plots, but nobody mourned for those buried here. The names on the tombstones provided history lessons instead of providing any emotional sentiment.

Ronan found the ancient mausoleum he sought near the graveyard’s rear stone wall and stopped in front of its entrance.

The well-tended crypt appeared out of place surrounded by abandoned mausoleums and crumbling tombstones. A thick stone door sealed the small stone building.

“This is it,” Ronan said.

“How do we get in? That door doesn’t look easy to open,” Rika said.

“You’re right about that. It’s a foot thick and sealed with wards constructed by ancient shield knights. You couldn’t get through it with a battering ram.”

Rika sighed. “You wouldn’t drag us into the middle of a graveyard and not have a way inside. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

He smiled and bowed. “Yes M’Lady. As you command.”

Rika giggled. “Stop it Ronan. Just open it. I hate graveyards.”

He circled the mausoleum and scanned the ground.

A patchwork of stones circled the tomb stretching several feet in every direction.

Recalling Tyrell’s instructions, Ronan counted the fourth stone from the left.

Decades of dormancy left the rock entrenched in the ground leaving a flat time-worn part of its surface exposed.

Ronan pulled his belt-knife from its sheath, knelt, and loosened the soil surrounding it.

“What’re you doing?” Rika said.

He pried the rock loose with his blade. “Believe it or not, I’m getting us inside.”

“Why didn’t the royal family just put a regular lock on the door?”

He lifted the rock yanking it free from its decade’s long slumber and smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

A smooth, flat, featureless stone sat beneath the weathered rock Ronan pulled from ground.

A buzz of excitement flashed through Ronan, and he smiled. “This is it.”

“Did you hear that?” Rika whispered. Her mouth hung open, and her head pitched forward as if straining to pick up any sound.

Ronan laughed. “Rika. I’m listening to anything that moves out here. Other than a few squirrels, we’re alone.”

“You can’t hear something that doesn’t make any noise.”

Ronan stretched his palm wide over the cool mud-covered stone. “I’ve got to admit you look pretty cute when you’re all worked up.”

Rika folded her arms and scowled at Ronan. “Are you making fun of me?”

He leaned his weight into the stone and inched it downward. “Me? I’m innocent.” He grinned with mischief.

“Does that voodoo magic of yours let you see ghosts?” Rika said.

He turned the stone counter-clockwise and raised an eyebrow “Ghosts? You’re afraid of ghosts?”

Deep rumbling came from inside the mausoleum.

Rika’s head snapped toward the noise. Her hands flashed, and a second later twin blades appeared in her hands gleaming under the moonlit night. She crouched and spun toward the noise ready for combat.

“Easy killer. That’s just the door activating,” Ronan said.

She relaxed and sheathed her blades. “This place has me on edge.”

“At least we stopped long enough for you to change out of your ball gown. How would you feel without your blades?” Ronan said.

“I didn’t hear you complaining. You changed too,” she said.

Ronan covered the stone doing his best to make it look dormant and circled to the entrance.

A thin dark edge appeared along the stone door, and a musty damp odor seeped from inside the crypt.

“Be careful. It’s pitch-black in there,” Rika said.

Ronan eased his shoulder into the door, and it inched forward. He stopped when he’d opened a foot-wide gap.

Through the crypt’s murky opening, a pitch-black veil of darkness shrouded the building’s interior.

Dread tugged at the back of Ronan’s mind as he imagined dead bodies resting inside the tomb. He channeled his power and heightened his vision.

The darkness slipped away revealing several stone steps leading further into the vault.

“Hang onto my belt. There are five steps going down. Then it flattens out.”

She grabbed hold and pressed her other hand into his back. “Go slow. I can’t see anything.”

As the warmth from Rika’s touch spread across his lower back, his dread faded. “Okay.” He descended into the darkness pausing after each stone step.

Rika’s warm touch never left him as they pushed deeper into the tomb.

“That was the last step. I see an oil lamp ahead. Stay here, and I’ll see if it works.”

“Okay. Hurry,” she said.

Entombed in the vault, a pair of chiseled sarcophagi contained the remains of old Jerryl Gulley and his late wife. Nestled between the matching tombs, a simple stone bench rested against the wall. Above the small bench, a dark dusty oil lamp sat on a wooden shelf.