Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (50 page)

“One man?” Pride laughed with contempt. “One man alone can’t do anything. Elan knows the true king boy.”

“Patron Tyrell once told me that one good man can change the world.” He raised his voice. “By your indecision, the rest of you have chosen. So be it.”

“Enough with these theatrics.” Pride hurtled his gathered spirit attack across the arena floor with such velocity the quickest battle knight couldn’t have moved away in time.

Ronan froze as Pride’s spirit attack closed the distance.

A thin blue thread extended from Ronan’s body and attached to the incoming attack.

An inherent understanding compelled Ronan, and he tugged the blue thread with his mind.

Horror-stricken screams erupted from the coliseum’s hushed audience. As the spirit attack streaked closer, Jeremy lunged with a shield blazing around him.

As Pride’s attack touched Jeremy’s shield, it unraveled scattering into mist.

Panic rimmed Pride’s wide eyes. “Kill him!” He pointed a trembling finger at Ronan.

The strange molten shield surrounding Ronan crackled with wisps of blue light flickering outward. His skin glowed with a bright golden sheen making his former power appear dingy and muted. Tips of white light extended from his eyes and fingertips as Ronan stood before the packed coliseum as the living embodiment of Elan’s pure magic.

Bryson screamed with primal fury and launched himself like a crossbow bolt toward Ronan. His skin glowed with a dim yellow light as he drew closer to Ronan.

Ronan turned his gaze on Bryson. Gold, blue, and white light radiated from his open eyes.

As Bryson gazed into Ronan’s blazing eyes, an expression of pure terror left him stunned. He tried to stop his forward momentum, but he’d reacted too late. Bryson slammed into Ronan’s shield like an enraged mosquito bent on self-destruction.

Ronan’s shield shimmered faintly as Bryson’s skin sizzled beneath the contact. The shield repelled Bryson a dozen yards before he slammed into hot sand. Greasy rivulets of flesh melted from Bryson’s chest, shoulder, arm where he’d contacted the glassy shield.

Ronan mustered neither sympathy nor satisfaction as Bryson writhed in agony. He’d made his choice.

A mask of agony remained glued on Bryson’s face as his life drained away. Yellow light escaped his corpse, but the once familiar shard didn’t appear.

Faint yellow light trailed over the arena sand settling onto the sphere’s surface where it flashed yellow before returning to its normal swirl of gold, white, and blue light.

Ronan focused his mind outward on the threads connecting every knight inside the arena to Elan’s sphere granting them power. He gathered the threads and twisted them into a thick taught cord, but he left Jeremy and Pride’s magic untouched. Ronan pulled the twisted cord closer removing the slack until it strained with tension.

Sickening realization filled the faces of every knight as they watched helpless to intervene.

Ronan jerked the cord, and the threads providing the knights their magic snapped.

Once proud battle knights dropped to their knees pinned beneath their heavy armor. Shield knights and healers corrupted by the taint of Pride’s insane interpretation of Elan’s Word begged for mercy that wouldn’t come.

Magic drained from the knights circling the arena floor and streaked toward the hovering sphere. The orb’s surface crackled with yellow, white, and blue light as the knights’ power evaporated.

Ronan flicked his wrist, and a hundred detention shields imprisoned every former knight inside the arena.

Pride’s eyes darted toward the arena exit, and he held up a trembling hand. “No. Please. I’ll do whatever you ask.” He backed away from Ronan and eased his way toward the royal box. “I tried to preserve the Meranthian way of life. The queen allowed those savages into our country and treated them as equals. I had to stop her. I meant no offense. Don’t you see?”

“You murdered thousands of innocent people in those death camps!” Ronan’s voice roared through the amplifier. “You left them to starve. Women and children.”

Pride shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. I built them a place all their own. Beautiful homes for them to live out their lives. The Ayralens could’ve saved themselves any time had they opened their hearts to Elan. He would’ve provided their every need. He told me so Himself.”

A wave of heat flashed through Ronan’s body as pure rage boiled to the surface. Using his will, he gripped the thick blue cord that connected Pride to Elan’s Sphere. Without ceremony, he ripped the cord free, and blue light fled from the center of Merric Pride’s chest.

Pride’s face contorted with shock and loss, and he let go a mewling screech as he fell knee first to the sand. He toppled to his side and curled into a tight ball. He laid trembling with his white robes spread wide soaking in the blood spilled minutes earlier. Soft sobs emanated from the traitorous king, and his pathetic body shook as he buried his face into the hot sand.

High above the arena, Connal Deveaux in his giant marital eagle’s form screeched and spread his massive wings. He glided toward Pride’s pathetic lump and extended his razor sharp talons.

Pride let loose a high-pitched wail as Connal Deveaux’s claws sank into the disgraced king’s soft white flesh.

Connal flapped his wings and carried Pride from the arena like a rat slinking across the desert floor.

Ronan extended his palm toward the swirling sphere.

Elan’s sphere floated across the arena toward his awaiting hand where it came to rest.

When he touched the sphere, his mind linked as he had earlier floating above the arena floor.

Danielle raised her hand toward Lora’s Sphere, and it rested against her palm. With her free hand she found Ronan’s waiting hand and squeezed.

Ronan gripped his sister’s hand, and they pushed the sphere’s high above the coliseum. “From this day forward we welcome the Ayralens within our borders as our brothers and sisters. This is how Elan and Lora intended. From our union comes great strength. We are two nations that stand as one.”

In the hushed silence, a lone voice rang out in the crowd, “Long live King Ronan!”

The arena erupted in cheers shaking the walls like spring’s first echoes of thunder ushering in a new season.

Epilogue

Two giant hawks glided below the towering Heartwood canopy and prepared to land in the glade fifty feet below. The late afternoon sun cast a shadow over half the lily pond, but still shone on the lean hardened man with the first flecks of gray dusting his dark hair.

Ronan’s stomach fluttered as he laid eyes on the distant form of Connal Deveaux for the first time. “I’m ready Danielle.”

“Hang on Ferris. We’re going to land.” Danielle said while in hawk form.

Ferris, the young boy from North Camp, had managed to survive long enough for Danielle to come find him. “I’m ready Miss Danielle, but do we have to? I love flying!”

“We’ll fly more later. I promise. Hang on tight okay?”

Ferris wrapped both arms around Danielle’s neck as she extended her talons, lifted her wings and set down near the bridge where Connal stood watching. Ferris sprang from Danielle’s back, and his eyes widened when he saw the Deveaux family lily pond. “Miss Danielle, is it okay if I go play near the pond?”

Danielle shifted into her human form and knelt in front of the six-year-old. “Yes, but be careful.”

Ferris scrambled away bouncing with unbridled joy across the grassy meadow.

“Danielle?” Connal Deveaux took a few tentative steps toward his daughter as she stood with her back to the bridge. His voice carried the doubt that matched the expression on his face.

As Danielle turned, any doubt remaining in Connal Deveaux’s expression faded, and his shoulders relaxed as a broad grin crossed his face.

“Papa!” Danielle ran into her father’s open arms, and she embraced him.

Rika touched the ground several feet from the family reunion, and Ronan slipped from her back.

He found himself smiling as he watched Danielle reunite with her father, and his own heart hammered as he braced himself.

Rika slipped her arm around Ronan. “Relax. You’ll do fine.”

Ronan managed a weak smile and took her hand. “Stay close. Okay?”

Rika squeezed his hand in return and nodded.

Danielle led her father across the glade until he stood before Ronan. “Papa, I’d like you to meet Ronan.” She faced Ronan. “Ronan, this is Connal Deveaux.”

Ronan’s heart pounded as he stood eye to eye with his father. The physical similarity between him and Connal left him speechless.

A warm smile spread across Connal’s face. “Ronan, it’s my honor…,” his voice cracked betraying the raw emotion simmering just under the surface. Tears rimmed his eyes, and he paused taking a moment to collect himself. “It’s my honor to finally meet you. I owe you an apology for not being there for you when you needed me most. I never meant for it to happen that way.” He extended his palm offering a handshake.

Ronan saw kindness in his father’s eyes and found sincerity in his voice and words. When Connal had embraced Danielle, he saw the true measure of his soul. Ronan felt an instant bond and total trust that came only from a parent’s unconditional love. Like Ronan, Connal would do anything to save his family. He’d allowed his only daughter to fly into enemy territory to save his son, and he saw love in Connal’s green eyes as they never wavered from Ronan’s. If Connal Deveaux had known Ronan had lived through that fire, he would’ve moved mountains finding him.

Ronan would’ve given anything for five extra minutes with his mother. He would tell her how much he loved her and hold her close. Ronan shared that wish with Connal. His father had grieved her loss and Ronan’s alone for five long years. He bore that burden for his daughter.

Ronan had come to realize the true importance of family. He knew the pain that comes when you’ve lost everything, and the joy that fills your soul that comes from allowing your heart freedom to love. Tyrell had taught him to treasure the time he had with his family, and he wouldn’t squander another second. Ronan found forgiveness in his heart.

Ronan ignored Connal’s outstretched hand and embraced his father holding nothing back. “You don’t owe me any apologies father. I’m just glad I found my way home.”

Tears of joy flowed from Connal Deveaux’s eyes as he held his son as one would a newborn babe afraid to ever let go.

***

As the sun lowered behind the Heartwood’s forest canopy, the late summer breeze carried the sounds of celebration and autumn’s first chill. The Queen’s Heart’s own Costa Cullen strummed his six-string guitar as the crowd of Ayralens taught the high step to the Meranthian dignitaries who had arrived earlier that morning.

The crowd gathered on the Prime Guardian’s terrace clapped their hands and stomped their feet. “Give them room!” A man’s voice shouted from the upper terrace.

Dozens of dancers backed up forming a ring around a young couple dancing a complex weave of high steps at the dance floor’s center.

Ronan held Rika’s fingertips and did his best to match her step for step. He moved his feet faster matching her intensity and rhythm as the music filled him with joy.

Rika’s hair flew wild and untethered cascading over her shoulders as she laughed and threw back her head. A light sheen had gathered on her brow, and the accompanying glow only added to her spectacular beauty. As Costa’s fingers worked faster over the guitar strings, Rika’s feet moved in time orchestrating a blurred motion of high steps and kicks.

She moved the dance beyond Ronan’s skill, and he shrugged bowing out and clapped in time with the assembled dancers. How he’d managed to make her fall in love with him, he hadn’t the foggiest idea, but he wouldn’t let her go for the world. As he backed up, he found Sir Alcott stomping his feet and pounding on a small drum curled under his right arm.

Costa’s guitar fell silent, and the crowd roared its approval. Rika laughed and spun in circles bowing before taking hold of Ronan’s outstretched hand.

Connal Deveaux waved from across the crowded terrace signaling for Ronan and Rika.

Ronan squeezed Rika’s hand and led her through the dancers as all eyes locked on him and Rika. This included Meranthian dignitaries Ronan hadn’t seen since his mother’s reign who had traveled to Ayralen with Sir Alcott.

“Splendid dancing Your Majesty,” Lord Lacey said as he bowed.

Ronan recognized the treasury minister with a nod. “Thank you Lord Lacey.” He continued forward leading Rika by the hand.

A beautiful Ayralen girl, no older than eight, tugged on the hemline of Rika’s dress.

Rika knelt until she reached the little girl’s eye level. “Lady Rika, can you teach me to dance like that? Henry says I’d trip over both feet if I tried.”

Rika smiled. “He did, did he? You come find me tomorrow, and I’ll teach you a few steps.”

“Thank you!” Ettie beamed and hugged her. A blond Meranthian girl near Ettie’s age whispered in her ear, and they both giggled before disappearing into the throng of party goers.

Ronan and Rika exchanged further congratulations and greetings as they made their way toward the Prime Guardian’s table.