Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (45 page)

“And we’ll slip into their quarters after the poison does its job,” Ronan said.

“Yes. Of course none of this can happen without both of our guardian friends.” Sir Alcott tipped his head toward Rika and Keely.

“Which shift?” Ronan said.

“Thanks to the information provided by young Master Fitz, we believe the most suitable time occurs with the shift beginning at nine o’clock,” Sir Alcott said.

“How long will we wait?” Rika said. “The longer we stay at the Queen’s Heart, the longer we place the McClaren’s at risk.”

“The sooner the better Miss Finn,” Devery said.

“Danielle, how long will it take to create the poison?” Ronan said.

“Kelwin and I can have it ready in half a day, but you’ll only have a three or four hour window to use it. The alchemical properties begin to break down after that,” Danielle said.

“Can we be ready by tomorrow night?” Ronan said.

“Yes, we can be ready,” Danielle said.

Fear lined Rika’s expression. “Ronan, what if you’re caught?”

The room fell silent as the obvious answer remained unspoken.

Ronan reached across the table and held Rika’s hand. He couldn’t love her more if he wanted to. “I’ll just have to make sure I don’t get caught.” Rika squeezed his hand.

“What about the rest of you? Is there any reason to hold off?” Ronan said.

No one at the table spoke providing silent confirmation.

Ronan nodded. “Tomorrow night it is.”

“Let’s go over the plans once we get inside the palace,” Sir Alcott said.

The group spent the next several hours ironing out details. Kelwin, Devery, and Sir Alcott said their good nights leaving Ronan, Rika, and Danielle alone in the meeting room.

“I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted,” Ronan said and stood from the table.

Rika slid out from her seat and took his hand. “I’m going with you.”

Ronan slipped his hand around her waist and smiled. “Alright then. Good night Danielle.”

“Ronan. Rika. Can you wait a second?” Danielle stood and faced her brother.

Tears rimmed her eyes as her bright blue eyes held his gaze. “I need you to know…,” her words came out hoarse and rough as she fought through tears. “I need you to know that even though we’ve spent a short time together, you’ve made it the most fulfilling time of my life. No matter what happens, I need to tell you that I love you. Papa would be proud of the man you’ve become.” She reached up and kissed Ronan’s cheek before wiping away her tears.

Ronan’s chest tightened, and a lump formed in his throat. He opened his arms to Danielle.

She sank into his embrace and buried her head in his chest. Danielle’s body wracked with sobs as she no longer held back her worry.

Ronan stroked her wavy golden hair and kissed the top of her head. “I love you back sister. We’ll make it Danielle. You’ll see.”

She nodded, and Ronan held her for what felt mere moments before he turned down the oil lamp and went to bed.

***

Ronan pushed the unconscious knight under his bunk. So far, their plan had flowed as designed, but he couldn’t shake an odd feeling that he’d overlooked something.

He tightened the strap on the heavy gold plated breastplate worn by the battle knight on duty. A wave of nausea curdled his guts as he glanced at Pride’s symbol, the eye inside the circle, emblazoned on his cuirass.

Outside the room, ringing armor and heavy footfalls grew louder and stopped outside the door. Three heavy thuds boomed on the wooden door.

Ronan slipped the armet over his head and raised his visor providing a clear field of vision. Sweat rolled off his body beneath the heavy armor, and he dreaded wearing it for the next few hours. He opened the door and stood face-to-face with his escort, one of the citadel’s top students.

The brawny pimple-faced youth stood at attention saluting Ronan.

Ronan returned the boy’s salute as custom dictated. In his former life he’d performed citadel escort duties. It meant this young man had earned the privilege of competing in Meranthia’s next shard tournament.

Without conversation, the stone-faced escort spun with military precision and strode from the open doorway marching around the curved passage leading from the battle knight’s wing.

Ronan left the room, closed the door, and followed the teenager in formal lockstep a few paces behind.

The escort disappeared around a corner where the hallway broadened as the citadel’s western entrance came into clear view ahead. Devery and Sir Alcott stood near the exit watching Ronan’s approach.

Devery wore golden chain mail indicative of the Order’s shield knights, and a freshly shaven Sir Alcott wore the formal white robes and cowl common to healers during peacetime. Sir Alcott had pulled his cowl far forward leaving his face hidden by shadows.

Ronan marched toward heavy double doors and paused near Devery and Sir Alcott. He reached up and lowered his visor as he prepared to leave the citadel.

The young escort snapped his boots and gave the triumvirate a final salute.

As the trio’s ranking member, Ronan returned the escort’s salute marking their readiness to leave the citadel.

The escort removed a polished brass horn from his belt strap and blew a long high-pitched tone.

The heavy door leading from the citadel’s western entrance emitted a low deep rumble before opening onto a spacious courtyard.

Devery, Sir Alcott, and Ronan marched in lockstep through the citadel’s double doors and strode into the cool summertime air. The evening’s first stars twinkled overhead as the sun’s orange glow disappeared behind the horizon. A long blue carpet outlined by golden pinstripes stretched outward toward the guardhouse.

The citadel guard on duty inside the guardhouse saluted as the triumvirate marched past.

Ronan returned the salute as the outer gates swung open.

Citadel guards formed a barrier through the crowd of onlookers beyond the courtyard gate who gawked at the high-powered shard knights wearing their formal military armor. The triumvirate remained in tight military lockstep as they passed beyond the citadel’s western gate onto the king’s road separating the royal palace and citadel. Carriages halted, and foot traffic stopped as the changing of the guard began. Mumbles of excitement passed through the gathered crowd, and a father hoisted his young son on his shoulders to witness three shard knights in full splendor marching through the palace district.

Ronan rounded the corner and followed the high palace wall to his left. His stomach fluttered as the royal guard post loomed ahead. He prayed the palace guard would wave them through as they did at the citadel.

Through the guardhouse’s glass window, a uniformed soldier stood from his post and watched the triumvirate approach the palace’s rear entrance. Beside the open gate, two more guards stood at attention.

Ronan held his breath as they approached the gate. Stiff-necked, he stared straight ahead but kept a wary eye on the guard through the window.

The guard stood frozen tracking the trio as they marched through the royal gate and approached the guardhouse.

The royal guardsman raised his hand and waved them past and relief flooded through Ronan. He wanted to scream with joy and run skipping into the palace but remained calm and steady never wavering from his pace or position ahead of Sir Alcott and Devery.

Two royal guardsmen stood by the door’s leading into the servant’s wing as the Ronan, Devery, and Sir Alcott passed beyond the closing palace gates.

“Halt!” A firm voice said behind Ronan.

Ronan froze as the guard’s words hit him like an executioner’s ax. He cursed under his breath and spun.

The slight armored sergeant hustled from the guardhouse, crossed the courtyard, and stopped before Ronan. The elder guardsman stood all of five feet tall with gray hair and a receding hairline. He placed his gloved fists on his hips and glared at Ronan. “You aren’t Knight Osrid. You’re at least half a foot taller than him. Who are you, and what’re you doing here?”

Ronan’s pulse raced and sweat ran like water beneath his armor. His soaked tunic stuck to his skin as he flipped up his visor and returned the sergeant’s glare. “Who do you think you are keeping the king’s triumvirate from performing our civic duty?”

“Who do I think I am?” The guard’s brown eyes blazed, and his posture stiffened stretching to his full height. “I’m Sergeant Gibbons. Now give me your name.”

Despite Sergeant Gibbons’ clear hostility, Ronan liked the man. Trying to intimidate him wouldn’t work. Ronan’s shoulders sagged. “Sergeant Gibbons, I don’t want to get Knight Osrid into any trouble.” Ronan sighed lowering his gaze. “He drank too much ale over dinner, and he’s passed out under his bunk. I’m Knight Bryson Slater, and I offered to take his guard duty tonight.”

“Why didn’t Commander Renault send word?” He glared at Ronan, but the raw heat in his voice had faded.

Ronan shifted his feet and stared at the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Sergeant Gibbon’s eyes as he lied. “That’s just it. Commander Renault doesn’t know, and I’d rather keep it that way if you don’t mind.”

Gibbons nodded and removed his hands from his hips. “I see. I like Sir Osrid and don’t want to see him punished, but how do I know you’re a knight of the Order?”

“How should I prove it?”

“Let me see your hands.”

“My hands?” Ronan said.

“Yes, remove your glove, and show me your hands.”

With his curiosity piqued, Ronan removed his plate mail glove as Gibbons directed.

The guardsman pulled a razor-sharp dagger from his belt sheath. “Palm up young master.”

Ronan channeled power into his skin increasing its toughness. Gibbons would have to swing the dagger using all his strength to create the smallest scratch in his exposed flesh. “What’re you doing?”

“If you’re really a knight of the Order, this knife won’t cut you. Now stand still.” Gibbons ran the blade’s edge over Ronan’s soft exposed flesh, but the dagger never scored as much as a paper cut.

Gibbons relaxed and sheathed his dagger. “I suppose we’ll let it slide this one time.” Gibbons wagged his finger at Ronan. “But you tell Knight Osrid this will be the only time I allow him this grace.”

Relief layered with guilt tugged at Ronan’s conscience. He’d come clean with Gibbons after this nightmare ended. “Yes sir. I’ll tell him.”

“You be on your way lad.” Gibbons receded into the guardhouse allowing Ronan, Sir Alcott, and Devery entry to the palace.

Ronan spun on his heel and marched toward the palace door with Sir Alcott and Devery joining him in perfect lockstep formation.

The guardsmen near the servant’s entrance opened the double doors allowing safe passage into the palace. A royal page stood waiting beyond the double doors. He wore the palace colors marking his status as a steward in training. The young man bowed before Ronan. “Greetings Knight, My name is Alexander, and I’ll be escorting you through the palace this evening.”

Ronan returned the man’s bow with a curt nod giving him leave to continue onward.

Alexander turned and left the servant’s entrance escorting Ronan toward the palace’s heart.

Ronan followed the steward’s apprentice and marched forward through the bustling corridors that served as a lifeline for the palace’s royal family. A smile crossed his face as he strode past Mistress Pell directing a group of maids on the evening chores. She’d served as the royal housekeeper under his mother, and he held great affection for the woman. She offered a slight nod as he passed, but, as protocol dictated, he kept his gaze centered and focused forward.

They continued through the servant’s wing before arriving at the rear service staircase. Ronan climbed the stairs followed by Sir Alcott then Devery in an ordered procession.

Ronan followed Alexander up two more flights of stairs that led to the palace’s central floor where Elan’s Heart lay guarded.

Alexander strolled along a lengthy carpeted corridor passing rare tapestries and expensive paintings created by some of the finest artists in Meranthian history.

Ronan followed in the steward’s wake taking note of the palace guards assigned to various points within the main floor itself. These men held no shard magic and performed the duty assigned them by the king. Ronan held no malice toward the king’s guard and wanted to cause them no undue harm, but he’d mentally prepared for the possibility of slaughtering every guardsman inside the palace.

Sir Alcott and Devery remained steps behind him as the trio rounded a corner, and the thick iron double doors of the heart room stood closed before them.

Alexander faced Ronan and bowed. “I’ll prepare the changing of the guard.” The steward pulled the thick circular inset door handles, and the heavy door creaked and strained as it swung open.

Alexander disappeared through the doorway, and, a moment later, he pushed both doors open wide as the knights inside the room stood in line behind Alexander.

Ronan nodded his thanks as Alexander escorted the three knights coming off duty from the room.

Alexander gave a final bow as he stood in the hallway and pushed the double doors closed. With a shudder and a clanging thud the door closed sealing Ronan, Sir Alcott, and Devery in the room alone with Elan’s Heart.