Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (48 page)

To Pride’s right, Danielle sat covering her ears as tears streamed down her face. Rika sat to Pride’s left with her gray eyes locked on Ronan. She sat straight backed and stiff with an expression of murder etched on her face.

Ronan met her eyes, and they softened at the edges. Her eyes glistened with fresh tears, and she moved her lips. He knew the words before she said them. “I love you.” He imagined her voice in his head as he watched her lips move. An adrenaline spike surged through his body. His dry cracked lips curled up, and he smiled at Rika nodding acknowledgment. Ronan would die this day, but not before he gave Freehold’s citizens one last show. With his pain forgotten, he turned in slow circles raising his arms and pumped his fists skyward

The crowd responded with a thunderous roar that nearly shook the coliseum’s beams apart. A single voice began at the edge of the arena floor nearest Ronan. A teenage boy, no older than fifteen, his face a rash of pimples, raised his arms high and chanted, “Ronan! Ronan!” The people surrounding the teenager joined his chant, and it spread through the coliseum crowd like a wildfire on a windy summer day.

A surge of joy lifted Ronan as a new realization sparked inside him a bonfire of hope. The thousands of souls crowded inside the coliseum’s walls hadn’t come to cheer his death. They cheered for his life. They loved him.

Ronan brushed the dry caked sand from his face and found fresh moisture streaking his cheeks. The hope building inside him raged, and his spirit soared. He fed from the frenzy of goodwill raining on him like an early spring monsoon.

Thousands of voices joined in chanting, “Ronan! Ronan!” until the cheer rang loud enough to hear all across Freehold.

Near the teenager that had started the chant, an older girl, the boy’s sister by her appearance, stretched outward trying to touch Ronan. “May Elan be with you this day Prince Ronan!” The girl said eyes wide with awe.

The teenage boy caught Ronan’s gaze, and a smile rippled across his face. He yanked the sleeve of his friend standing next to him. “Jarred, the Scarlet Knight looked at me!” Jarred stared awestruck at Ronan, his jaw agape seeming not to hear his friend.

Ronan’s stomach fluttered. Had his ears deceived him or had the boy called him the Scarlet Knight? He’d never heard anyone refer to him by that name. Understanding dawned when he realized the teenager must’ve meant his red shard blade and his exploits at North Camp.

Stifled rage simmered from Merric Pride’s gaze as he stared stone-faced at a guard near the arena floor. He waved his hand, and the gate nearest Pride rattled upward.

A blond giant with arms the size of tree trunks stormed onto the arena floor. Knight Bryson Slater, his bare chest streaked with perspiration, wasted no time coaxing the audience. He paused for a moment and scanned the arena floor.

The crowd rained a symphony of boos on Pride’s top attack dog. Bryson didn’t bother reacting to the coliseum’s storm of disapproval and instead charged ahead with a shard magic induced sprint. He pulled up just short of the former prince and slammed his meaty fist into Ronan’s soft face.

The crowd gasped as they waited to see how Ronan would handle Bryson’s strike.

The blow should’ve killed Ronan, but Jeremy’s shield absorbed the force of impact. Ronan pushed himself backward feigning injury and planted his rear end on the arena floor. He shook his head as if clearing away confusion and rolled to his side in time to avoid Bryson’s foot stomp. The hot summer wind dried his sweat covered skin, and Ronan knew Bryson had destroyed Jeremy’s shield. Another blow like that, and Ronan’s life would end.

“That punch should’ve killed you Latimer!” Bryson said.

“I guess I don’t fight fair. What about you? You have to rely on shard magic to win?” Contempt dripped from Ronan’s words. “You’re a coward Bryson. You’ve always been a coward.” Ronan said.

“I don’t need magic to beat you worm,” Bryson said.

Ronan laughed. “Really? Let’s see it then. Fight me straight up. No shard magic.”

“I could beat you blindfolded, you little piss-ant, but this time don’t expect me to throw the match. You’ll die by my hand. I promise you that.”

Ronan jumped to his feet, and the crowd roared its approval. He circled Bryson with his arms spread wide in a defensive stance.

Bryson lunged forward, and Ronan sidestepped right.

Ronan whirled clenching his hands together before dropping them like a hammer in the small of Bryson’s back.

The shard knight collapsed face first into the arena floor his mouth filling with sand.

Ronan stepped back and sent his foot flying into the soft flesh near Bryson’s rib cage. “That’s for the cheap shot at the palace you bastard.”

Ronan’s kick lifted Bryson an inch off the ground before he crumpled into a pitiful heap. Bryson groaned as he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet. He held his ribcage with his left hand and spit out a mouthful of sand.

The crowd roared as Bryson circled Ronan shaking the sand loose from his face.

Ronan took a step toward Bryson to draw the blond giant from his defensive posture.

Bryson’s deceptive quickness caught Ronan off guard, and he punched grazing the tip of Ronan’s nose as he leaned backward.

The momentum of his swing carried Bryson forward exposing himself to a counterattack.

Ronan didn’t hesitate and kicked Bryson in his right kneecap which bore his weight.

Bryson screamed and fell clutching his shattered knee.

Ronan kicked Bryson connecting with his nose, and a red explosion erupted leaving his face ruined with spattered blood pouring into Bryson’s open mouth.

A fresh wave of cheering erupted as the first droplets of blood rolled from Bryson’s chin spilling onto the arena sand.

Bryson reeled from the blow and pushed himself up on his left leg dragging his right behind him.

Ronan sent a roundhouse kick into Bryson’s face connecting with his eye. The force of impact sent Bryson twisting before he landed in a motionless heap.

The crowd cheered approval sensing the end of the match and Ronan’s victory.

Bryson’s muscular frame lay splayed on the sand with his arms and legs twisted at odd angles.

The sharp pain in Ronan’s ribs faded as a wave of satisfaction settled over him.

A faint yellow aura enveloped Bryson and disappeared settling into his skin. With a violent surge he sprang to his feet and whirled on Ronan.

Ronan stepped backward as he braced himself for retaliation from the enraged shard knight.

A deep cut over Bryson’s left eye oozed blood adding a mask of horror atop the disfiguring twisted mess of his broken nose. Faint yellow light hovered over his blood as it filtered through his eye and poured over his lips. A grin born of hatred, rage, and deep loathing writhed across what remained of Bryson’s face. “No more games Latimer. You’re done.” He spit a mouthful of blood onto the sand.

Ronan’s chest tightened as cold fear twisted his stomach, but he suppressed any outward sign and stood his ground. He wouldn’t give Pride or Bryson the satisfaction.

In a blur, Bryson covered the ten feet separating him and Ronan. With inhuman speed, he launched a blistering attack sending his right fist hammering into Ronan’s thigh shattering the bone beneath like a windowpane caught in a tornado.

Sharp overwhelming pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced spread like fire through his leg. He screamed in agony as he dropped to the sand. His collapsed leg bent like a noodle at angles Elan never intended, and waves of pain threatened to send him into unconsciousness.

The crowd gasped in collective horror as they witnessed the brutal assault on their beloved prince.

Bryson stood over the fallen prince and let his blood drip onto Ronan’s wounded leg. “Let’s see how you like to have your face cut up” In a blur too fast to track, Bryson backhanded Ronan. Bryson had infused the flesh and bone of his hand giving it the strength of tempered steel.

The blow caught Ronan under his eye snapping his bones and collapsing his right cheek and jaw.

Ronan’s mouth hung open limp and lifeless as his shattered jaw no longer provided support. The metallic taste of hot blood poured into his mouth from deep cuts the largest of which stretched across his cheek from his mouth to his eye.

A hundred and fifty thousand voices stopped as silence spread like death across the coliseum.

Bryson stood over Ronan, raised his fists in triumph, and howled with the joy of victory, but the crowd stood frozen staring with cold murder lacing their eyes.

Blood ran like a fountain from Ronan’s right ear, and he could no longer hear any sound from that side of his head. He struggled in vain to drag his broken body away from Bryson. If Bryson struck now, his life would end. The damage he’d already received far exceeded any hope of repair through shard magic, and now Ronan functioned on survival instinct and adrenaline as the last threads of his life slipped away.

Bryson stood in front of Ronan’s bleeding face and prepared for the final blow. His foot lingered for a kick to Ronan’s head and stopped.

Merric Pride jumped from his seat surveying the coliseum with a look of raw panic in his eyes. He couldn’t control a mob comprised of thousands of enraged citizens. They’d smash him and every knight inside the arena to a bloody pulp. “Enough! Do no further harm to that criminal Knight Bryson. Step away or your life is forfeit.”

Bryson’s face trembled with suppressed rage. He lowered his foot and backed away from Ronan turning an expression of warped fury on Pride.

Pride motioned for a citadel guard and pointed toward the arena wall nearest him.

The guard opened a door built into the coliseum wall just below the royal box.

Pride pushed his way through the knights, dignitaries, and guardsmen seated in the box pulling Danielle behind him. He made his way onto the arena sand and walked toward Ronan dragging Danielle behind him.

Lord Randal scurried through the door after him ordering several shard knights to follow the king and protect him.

Danielle ripped free of Pride’s grip and sprinted across the sand toward her brother. She reached him first and knelt by him as tears streamed down her face. “Ronan. I’m so sorry they did this to you. He’s taken my magic too or I’d help you.” She crumpled in the sand and laid her head on his chest as her body convulsed with sobbing.

Ronan stroked her golden hair as she wept. He’d lost the ability to speak with his jaw shattered, and the pain of moving it even an inch caused extreme pain, but her words triggered an idea. They’d taken her magic.

Sir Alcott told them ‘to activate the heart one must be pure of blood and pure of body’. In Elan and Lora’s time pureness of blood wouldn’t have meant of mixed Ayralen and Meranthian blood despite Heilyn’s warning. When Lora’s spirit said they had pure blood, she meant that he and Danielle descended from Elan and Lora’s children.

Lora’s spirit said they needed to remove the taint from their bodies. Understanding clicked in Ronan’s mind. Those already holding shard magic couldn’t restore the hearts. The shards somehow tainted them, but a descendant of Elan and Lora’s that held no shard magic could reactivate the magic inside the hearts. Pride might have descended from Elan and Lora, but he held shield magic and had no hope of activating the heart’s magic.

Merric Pride allowed Danielle to console her brother as he lay dying on the arena floor. The king wouldn’t dare stop her and give the crowd further reason to revolt as they stood a hair’s breadth away from turning into a riotous mob.

Pride signaled the knights around him to contain Bryson as he hovered over Ronan. He looked on the arena audience and raised his hands in a sign of reconciliation. A shield shaped like a cone extended around his mouth, and when he spoke, the words rang out. “My dear citizens, what you’ve witnessed today is an act of justice. This man conspired with Patron Tyrell in the murder of his own mother.”

“You’re a liar Pride!” A single voice from the stands shattered the deafening silence.

Pride ignored the accusation. “This traitor has made multiple attempts on my life which is itself an act of treason.”

“You’re a butcher!” A second voice joined the first from the coliseum’s far side.

Pride whirled as if to find the voice’s owner as terror registered on his face. “No. No.” He shook his head as blood drained from his face. “I’m Elan’s disciple.”

Danielle shifted placing Ronan’s head in her lap as she stroked his dark wavy hair.

The shade of a smile twitched from Ronan’s sunken face. “Prove it Pride.” The words came out slurred, and flashes of fresh pain pounded in Ronan’s brain, but he knew Pride could understand him.

Pride glanced at Ronan like a gnat on a windowpane. “Yes, perhaps that’s the way.” He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled free Elan’s Heart in his right hand and Lora’s Heart in his left. “Behold the hearts of magic. Both Elan’s and Lora’s.” The words echoed across the coliseum’s vast space. “Elan has provided all I need to activate the magic within his essence and destroy the magic that rules the Ayralen savages. One power will rule this land!”

Ronan squeezed Danielle’s hand.

Danielle lowered her ear to his beaten lips. “When he brings out your ring, focus on that alone.”