Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (25 page)

Danielle nodded.

“Have you seen my brother Kelwin? Is he okay? I never meant to cause him so much pain.”

“The Prime Guardian gave him leave to search for you and your father. He left the Heartwood a year ago,” Danielle said. “As far as I know, he’s traveling Meranthia searching for you and your father.”

Rika flashed a smile. “He’s been stubborn his whole life. What’s your story Danielle? How did the Prime Guardian’s daughter land in a Meranthian death camp?”

Danielle didn’t know what to say. She knew battle knights had exceptional hearing, and anyone of these women could trade her secrets for food. Even worse, camp guards could torture the prisoners for information. “Our team traveled through the Trinity Range when a freak storm overwhelmed us. We took cover in a cave, and Meranthian shard knights surprised us, captured us, and brought us here.”

Rika gasped. “You’re a warden!”

Danielle’s face flushed. She leaned in and placed her lips near Rika’s ear and whispered. “Rika, can the shard knights hear us? Can we trust the people locked in this prison cell? I don’t want to place them in more danger.”

Rika nodded. “Let’s go sit over there.” She pointed toward an empty area opposite the water barrel.

Danielle offered her hand to Keely. “Let’s go. We’re setting up camp in the far corner.”

Keely pushed away Danielle’s hand and stood. “My legs aren’t broken. I can walk.”

“Ferris, can you give us some privacy while we talk? I’m fine. I promise,” Rika said.

Ferris smiled. “Yes Miss Rika.” The frail boy huddled on the stone floor taking the spot Keely occupied.

Keely dropped to the dirty stone floor and sagged into the corner. “I’m exhausted. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be good as new.” She propped her head against the wall, closed her eyes, and sleep took her within seconds.

Danielle slid down the wall and positioned herself beside Keely.

Rika found a spot next to Danielle.

Danielle huddled near Rika and whispered. “Yes, I’m a warden. The story I told a minute ago is true. Our team entered a mission that brought us to Meranthia, but shard knights captured four of us, and we lost two others in the cave. I believe the knights took the two men traveling with us to the southern death camp.”

“Do the shard knights know you’re a warden?”

“They don’t know the extent of our abilities, but they believe we’re dangerous.”

“That explains why they locked you in here,” Rika said. “The camp guard reserves this cell for dangerous prisoners. We’re isolated from the camp’s general population. Even if they watched you channel magic, they’d refuse to admit its existence. They believe Elan ordains all magic, and mentioning Ayralen magic is blasphemous in the eyes of the king.”

“Why aren’t they feeding you?” Danielle said.

“Merric Pride believes that once we’ve found Elan, He will provide nourishment for our bodies.”

Danielle’s eyes widened. “That’s madness. They’ll die without food.”

“Hundreds already have. They’re buried in shallow pits east of camp. Downwind of course,” Rika said. “Pride believes their death serves the greater good, and those that haven’t died may still find a path to Elan.”

“Why do Meranthians allow this barbaric torture?” Danielle said.

“He’s used an avalanche of propaganda against regular Meranthians. They’ll believe anything he says. He’s convinced thousands he sits at the right hand of Elan himself. He’s explained that he’s offered Ayralens a chance to redeem their souls in these colonies, and they’ve accepted in droves.” She gestured toward the wretched souls huddled together. “What you see is his grand vision fulfilled. He believes Ayralen’s path to Elan comes through isolation and contemplation. Living in communal harmony, so close to Elan’s touch, is Pride’s great gift to our people. It’s a chance for us to purge our wicked beliefs. At least that’s the story he’s sold the masses.”

A simmering rage boiled inside Danielle. This animal had the blood of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, chained to his soul. She shook her head. “Haven’t stories leaked?”

Rika shrugged. “The death camps are off limits for regular Meranthians, and, as far as I’ve heard, nobody has escaped. But, the camps just opened, and last I heard, the camp isn’t finished.”

“Where’s Ferris’ mother? He said they took her away,” Danielle said.

Rika’s face darkened, and hot rage raced across her face. “Ferris’ father is Meranthian. The Culture Ministry caught him organizing resistance against the unfair treatment of Ayralens. The Order arrested Ferris and his mother before sending them here two week ago.”

“She’s considered dangerous because of her husband?” Danielle said.

Rika nodded. “They dragged her from this cell when they discovered her pregnant, but Ferris doesn’t know. I haven’t seen her since, and I’ve no idea where they’re holding her.”

“Would the guards kill her outright?” Danielle said.

Rika shrugged. “I doubt it. Pride considers that murder.”

Danielle stared open-mouthed searching for the right words. “Does he believe women and children are choosing death?” She swept her arm around the room.

“Justice. Elan’s judgment. You pick the phrase. He doesn’t count this as murder,” Rika said.

“We can’t stay here. We’ll die.”

“Do you have a plan?” Rika said.

“Keely can fly through those window slits, find my belt pouch, and bring my staff.”

“We’ll have to sneak past the shard knights and the camp guard,” Rika said.

“You said the camp was still under construction,” Danielle said. “Keely can find breaches in the camp’s fortifications. She can scout the camp’s perimeter reporting locations and patrol patterns for the troops stationed there.”

“We can’t leave these people to die,” Rika said.

Danielle nodded. “We need to escape first, and then we’ll work on freeing the hostages. Right now, I’m going to follow Keely’s lead. If we’re planning to escape, we need sleep.”

A New Blade

Sparks sprayed beneath Devery’s hammer as he pounded and shaped a wavy molten blade against his anvil. Sweat beaded his flexed biceps while the occasional droplet traveled his arm and splattered onto his iron anvil.

Ronan stepped through the open door of Devery’s forge.

Heat waves radiated from the coal furnace distorting the sparks of molten steel giving the room a surreal presence.

“I’ve never seen a coiled blade like that,” Ronan said.

Before Devery answered, another voice spoke behind Ronan. “It’s called a kris. The Tyrell family believes it transfers good fortunes to its true owner.” Patron Tyrell entered the forge and stopped beside Ronan.

“Its true owner?” Ronan said.

Devery paused his hammer. “There’s a true owner for every blade created with a smith’s care. Battle knights bond their sword with blood. A craftsman’s blade not bound by blood seeks its owner.” He gripped the curved blade with iron tongs and plunged the red-hot steel into a nearby barrel of water.

“When the kris bonds its true owner, it imbues the blade’s unique gift. That gift gives the owner a great advantage,” Tyrell said.

Devery lifted the blade free of the water and inspected its edge using light from the forge’s orange glow. The blade coiled like a gleaming silver snake at the end of the blacksmiths tongs.

“What alloy are you using?” Ronan said.

“That’s ironbarrow steel. It’s used to forge shard blades and only shard blades under penalty of death.”

“So you’re making a shard blade?” Ronan said.

Devery shook his head. “I’m not creating a shard blade,” he said. “Ironbarrow steel is superior to any known alloy, and I’m creating a great blade.” He carried the warm blade to his workbench and placed it atop a thick slab of slate. “Ironbarrow steel’s superior hardness and flexibility make it the best. An ironbarrow blade won’t break. But, as I mentioned yesterday evening, shard blades are growing weaker.”

“What makes you believe that?” Ronan said.

“I don’t think the blade is the problem. Ironbarrow steel has changed little over the centuries. I believe the shards themselves are growing weaker. I don’t have proof, but Patron and I have shared a few theories,” Devery said.

“Centuries of reuse have caused the shard’s power to become diluted,” Tyrell said. “Each time they’re absorbed the magic thins for the next bearer.”

“Another theory holds that shard magic is fading. We don’t know how shard magic works, but after twenty centuries the fragments could be losing intensity,” Devery said.

“Every shard is unique,” Ronan said. “Maybe you’ve experienced a string of weaker shards coming through your forge,” Ronan said.

Devery shook his head. “I’ve crafted multiple weapons from the same shard. The blades grow weaker with each new forging. For thirty years I’ve made blades using the same method. The blades could’ve grown weaker for centuries before I started making them. I’ve heard stories of blades crafted a thousand years ago carving through solid stone like it was paper. In the past, I’ve discounted those stories as legend, but maybe there’s truth behind them.”

“Have you created a shard blade from the sixth enhancement shard? Ronan said.

Devery nodded. “I used that shard during my first year smithing shard blades. It belonged to your father.”

“Even if shard magic is dying, we can’t change the result with speculation. Time is short, and we need to start crafting the blade,” Tyrell said.

Devery nodded and picked up his iron tongs. He lifted a cylindrical block of ironbarrow steel sitting next to the forge and nestled it atop the orange hot coals of the furnace. Flames burst to life around the cylinder, and reddish molten heat glowed from its surface. “A shard blade contains the essence of magic granted by the knight’s blood. The blades remain impressive, but dwindle with every new crafting. Modern day knights can’t produce blades as powerful as their predecessors.”

“Who knows magic is fading besides us three?” Ronan said.

“I’m sure Calder Pullman has to realize something’s wrong,” Devery said. “But, he’s so deep in Pride’s pocket, I doubt he’s told anybody. The last news he’d want to share with Merric Pride is that Elan’s magic is fading.”

“He’s been crafting blades for fifteen years?” Ronan said. “Do you think he’s noticed yet?”

“I think he knows,” Devery said. “Pride’s forced dozens of knights to release their shards or die, and I’ve not crafted the new blades.” He pulled free a second smaller block of red metal and slid it into the furnace next to the glowing chunk of Ironbarrow steel.

Ronan tilted his head and squinted at the strange red metal. Its reddish color intensified as the hot coals softened its surface. “I’ve never seen that alloy. I thought you used ironbarrow steel to craft shard blades?”

Devery met Tyrell’s gaze, and he nodded. “Go ahead. Tell him,” Tyrell said.

“During my first year holding the shard, old Torr Latimer ordered me north to the village where Redkeep now stands. Instead of a real working village, I found a scattered hodgepodge of farms.” Devery lifted the red-hot block of ironbarrow steel with his tongs and turned it over. “The king ordered me to oversee Redkeep’s construction and secure the flow of ore out of Ironbarrow.”

“After my first few weeks, I traveled from Redkeep to Ironbarrow through the back country. No roads joined Ironbarrow to Redkeep in those days.” Devery reached into the furnace and adjusted the smaller cylinder of red metal before continuing.

“It came on a perfect cloudless night with a million stars twinkling overhead.” Devery’s eyes glazed over as he stared without focus into the orange heart of the coal furnace. “The pinpoint of light sat motionless on the distant horizon bobbing atop an ocean of stars. It started moving, and I watched it cross the sky growing bigger as it drew closer. I held my breath as I watched a giant ball of flame a half mile away flash across the midnight sky.” Devery’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “I thought I might need my spare underclothes stashed in my saddlebag. When it hit, I thought the whole world burned.

“The star hit the ground?” Ronan said

Devery nodded. “I’ve never seen anything move that fast. A few seconds later, the ground beneath my feet rippled. The tremors tossed me ten-feet backward, and if I hadn’t had my shield ready, I’d be dead. Rocks, branches, shrubs, and anything not entrenched in the ground hit my spirit shield harder than a knight’s shard blade.”

Ronan stared open-mouthed in disbelief. “That’s the Sheba Crater. You saw the Sheba Crater form? My mother told me she watched that fire cross the sky from the palace in Freehold.”

Devery nodded. “As soon as the dust cleared, I waded through ankle high ash and a forest of charred trees. When I reached the impact site, the crater stretched a half mile wide and fifty feet deep.”

Ronan’s gaze lingered over the hot coals, and he stared at the molten metal glowing like a cherry in its belly. “You’ve held the answer that’s eluded investigators for decades. I’ll assume that metal,” he pointed to the cylinder of ore heating in the furnace, “created the Sheba Crater. Am I right?”

Devery nodded. “I had a larger chunk thirty years ago. That’s the last piece. I’ve experimented with the crater ore many times over the past thirty years. I believe the alloy you see in the furnace will work best. It’ll be the first shard blade ever created using it.”