Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (15 page)

Chapter Twelve

With hushed voices, Rhys and Ravyn said their good-byes to most of the Giles family. All but the three youngest had risen early to help them secure their supplies and see them off on their journey. Tears threatened, burning behind Ravyn’s eyes as first Willa, then Orvis, wrapped her in affectionate hugs.

Ravyn didn’t regret her decision to leave with Rhys, but she couldn’t help but pine for the simple life staying at the inn would have afforded. Whether she wanted it or not, the Giles family would have pressed and molded her into their lives, accepting her as one of them. She knew this as surely as she knew her own name. But that was not the choice she had made, and she wouldn’t lament her decision. Not for long, anyway. Perhaps a day or two to miss her friends, but after that it would be time to face her future.

Willie helped her mount Sampson, his hand lingering a fraction too long against her thigh. “Take care of yourself…Lady Romelda.”

She smiled at the use of her alias. “You do the same, Willie.”

“You can always come back,” he said hopefully. His green eyes bore into her. “There will always be a place for you.”

The lump she’d been swallowing around since she’d gotten up this morning grew and pushed against her throat. Her voice cracked. She sniffed and struggled not to cry. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Rhys gently slapped the boy on the back. “Take care, Willie. My thanks for tending Sampson.”

Willie grasped Rhys’s hand with manly vigor. “My pleasure, Lord Blackwell. I was only doing as Lady Ravyn requested.” Willie stepped away from the horse, his gaze never leaving Ravyn’s face.

Rhys climbed behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. The heavy folds of his cloak draped her shoulders, providing a double layer of warmth against the morning chill. She relaxed into him, taking strength from the feel of his arm. His touch seemed to keep her tears and melancholy at bay. She had to remember she wasn’t alone anymore, even if that’s what it felt like at this moment.

Rhys directed Sampson across the cold, hardened mud, and Ravyn gave a final wave. It was just the two of them now.

They rode in silence for the first hour of their trip. Each mile chipped away at Ravyn, making her feel raw and unsure of what lay ahead. For so many years, she’d been confined to the abbey. Now, the current of her new life seemed to whisk her away before she could settle.

She ruminated about her decision to stay with Rhys. Her inability to run from a fight was not the only reason she’d chosen to leave the safety of the inn. When Willa had pushed his father’s diary across the table, all sensible thought and reason had fled Ravyn. At the stark look of horror on Rhys’s face, she knew she would have done anything to ease the sting of his memories.

Had he read the journal yet? The question hovered on her tongue. The need to know what awaited the Bringers was nearly unbearable, but she couldn’t ask. Last night she’d compared Bowen’s book and the tome she’d stolen from the abbey. The script was the same. More questions surfaced. Why did the abbey have Bringer books and were there more? She sighed, tired of too many questions and too few answers.

“What is it?” Rhys leaned over her shoulder.

“I was thinking about the future, Willa’s prediction of war, and the other full-bloods who might be living among us.”

“Heavy things to contemplate so early in the morning.” His breath warmed her cheek. He tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.

The warmth from his body felt good this morning. She needed it more than she needed the Sisters’ scornful voices in her head, chanting about the evils of a man’s touch. Emboldened by her uncertain future, she ran her hand along his arm. The adage
Life is too short
was taking on an unpleasant edge. Rhys gave her waist another light squeeze and entangled their fingers with a firm but gentle hold. Her body hummed from feelings she couldn’t identify. His nearness gave her a sense of being protected. The Sisters’ caustic rhetoric faded to an ignorable level.

For the next two hours, they spoke quietly about mundane things—the Giles family, her life in the abbey, and their favorite foods. As the sun crested the horizon, Rhys pulled on Sampson’s reins and stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Ravyn listened, cocking her head in an attempt to hear better. A low
whoosh
ing ebbed and flowed in the air. She scanned the clear morning sky but saw nothing. She let her senses flare in search of the Bane. But there was no sensation, no prickling or biting rub against her skin.

She twisted to look at Rhys. “What is it?”

He smiled. “That sound means we’ll be home by evening.”

He kicked Sampson forward, giving Ravyn no further explanation. The dense woods thinned as the path inclined up a steep hill. Large boulders littered the open field in front of them.

Ravyn sniffed. The slight tang of salt sifted through the air. The low whoosh escalated into a dull roar, rumbling on the breeze like nature’s background music.

“What
is
that noise?” she asked. They crested the hill and Ravyn froze, her mouth dropping open at the scene stretching before her.

Rhys stopped Sampson and leaned forward. “That, my lady, is the Sea of Alba.”

She stared, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the dark green water before her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve read several stories where the characters crossed a sea, but…” She exhaled heavily. “But I couldn’t have imagined this.”

Mounds of water raced across the undulating surface of the sea as if chasing each other. They swelled, lifting from the surface like luminescent sea creatures ready to strike, only to crash forward and melt into a milky froth. The sea was a feast for her senses. She could even taste it on the morning air.

“I never grow tired of seeing it,” Rhys said. “Being on the water is like being home.”

The morning sun hung low as it began its trek across the sky. Ripples of light reflected along the horizon.

“It moves,” she said.

“Constantly.”

Rhys tightened his other arm around her and leaned against her back. Ravyn closed her eyes and held the moment like a precious snowflake that had no choice but to thaw and fade away. For a few scarce seconds, it was sheer perfection.

Sometimes, if a person is lucky, everything is right with the world. It may only last for a minute or an hour, but for a brief span of time, no wrongs exist. She didn’t know what awaited them a hundred feet down the trail—maybe the Bane—but right now, locked in Rhys’s arms, she savored a moment free of worry and loneliness, filled with nature’s miracle.

“I’ve read that it moves,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. “But I didn’t understand. I thought it moved like a river, but that’s not right. Sometimes I pictured the sea like a large lake, but that’s also incorrect. And it sings.”

“What do you mean?”

“The sea’s song is different from the land’s rhythm.”

Rhys turned an ear toward the sea, as if straining to hear someone’s faint call through the wind. His eyes closed and he sat motionless, listening. A slow smile spread across his face. “It’s eerie and beautiful.”

“You can hear it?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. His stare made Ravyn breathless. “I’ve never heard the song before, never listened beneath the sound of the crashing waves. Thank you.”

She glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable with his intense gaze, but happy she could give something to him. “You’re welcome.”

Rhys urged Sampson on. The coastal trail they followed veered away from the edge of the bluff and headed inland. Sampson picked his way around rocks and the large pits of mud softening in the sun’s warming rays. For several hours, they traveled along the tops of the cliffs. Though most of the time the sea was hidden by the rounded sloping hills, Ravyn could still hear the powerful roar of the moving water.

When the sun reached its zenith, they stopped for lunch and settled in the shade of a lone tree. Unfettered, Sampson made his way to the small creek running along the coastal trail and drank. Ravyn opened the cloth bag holding their lunch and smiled.

“Willa outdid herself.” She showed the contents to Rhys. Roasted chicken lay in its own oilcloth, and a hunk of cheese, fresh bread, and whole apples filled the rest of the bag. Ravyn bit off a hunk of bread and chewed, savoring the spongy lightness.

“She’s a born nurturer,” he said, taking a chicken leg from the pile.

“I bet she’d be a healer if she was Bringer. Don’t you?”

Rhys nodded and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “That or a Shield. She’s quite ferocious when she’s angry or protecting somebody.”

“A Shield?” Ravyn said.

“Like me. A protector. A shield against the Bane.”

The description fit him well. There were still so many things she didn’t know about her people. Not wanting to lose the light mood, she smiled. “Yes, Willa would definitely be a Shield.”

They ate in companionable silence, enjoying the warm weather and sunshine. When they finished the meal, they stored the lunch supplies and remounted.

“We’ve another four hours before we reach the road leading into Alba. If you’re tired, now would be a good time to sleep.”

“I don’t think I can sleep. I’m too excited.”

“I thought you might be regretting your decision to come with me.”

She leaned against him, wanting him to feel the truth in her words. “No regrets. No running from who I am—no matter what the future holds.”

He was silent for several seconds. Slowly his arm tightened around her, and he lowered his cheek to rest tentatively against her head. “Good.” The single word rippled with emotion, as if he had at last made peace with some personal conflict.

Lulled by Sampson’s gait, Ravyn drifted into a dreamless doze despite her pronouncement of being too excited.

Her eyes snapped open when Rhys pulled Sampson to a stop.

She straightened and stretched, taking in their surroundings. “Is something wrong?”

“We’ve arrived at the junction to Alba. I’m sorry I woke you, but I doubt you would have slept much longer with all the traffic.”

Ravyn watched a hunched old man pull an empty two-wheeled wagon past them.

“Evenin’,” the man said, tipping his head. Two rows of missing and blackened teeth punctuated his smile.

“Good evening,” Rhys said. “How was the market?”

“Well, I won’t be starving this week, so I’m sayin’ it was good.” The old man cackled at his joke. “Safe travels, my lord.”

“And to you,” Rhys replied.

They watched the man trundle away with his few purchases tucked high in the bed of the wagon.

“What an interesting man,” Ravyn said.

Rhys guided Sampson onto the road. “Just one of many you will meet now that you’re no longer cloistered in the abbey. Life is much different in a city.”

“What is Alba like?”

“Big, noisy, dirty, and dangerous,” he said flatly.

“You make it sound so appealing. Are you sure we should go there?”

“It’s home.”

“Why?”

“I’ve owned Alba Haven for over 200 years. It was beautiful once, but the squalor of the city has grown up around it. Fortunately for the Bringers, the less-motivated demons become diverted by easier prey. The more vigilant demons are kept at bay by the san-ctified ground.”

Her sadness over leaving the inn had given her little time to think about their destination. Like the sea, she doubted her vision of Alba would compare to the reality of the large city.

Sampson began the slow descent down the mountain. Canyon walls grew up around them as they journeyed lower into the pass. Rays from the sun glittered off the top of the mountains but could not penetrate the chasm’s gloom. Deep shadows swathed the canyon walls, and the temperature dropped several degrees. People pulling small wagons lumbered ahead of them, skidding and jostling their loads down the steep path.

“Alba is a port town,” Rhys said. “The biggest in the area for trading. People travel many miles to buy and sell there.”

“Perhaps you could give me a tour? You must know it well after 200 years.”

“I haven’t lived in Alba all that time but I am well acquainted with it.” He leaned into her. “If you’re a good girl, perhaps I’ll give you my special tour.”

Her heart fluttered at his nearness. She gave a nervous laugh. Was he flirting? She wasn’t sure. How would she
ever
be sure unless he did something so blatant even the village idiot would be able to tell?

She stared straight ahead and focused down the trail. “The Sisters always told me I was much better at being bad.”

Rhys laughed and slid his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders. Shivers ran down her spine. “Sometimes bad can be very good.”

Her grip tightened on the pommel. Certainly, she’d tumble off Sampson now that her bones had softened to pudding. She craned her neck, wanting to see his expression. “You’re teasing me.”

“A bit.”

His amber eyes sparkled with amusement. There was that delicious, forbidden feeling in the pit of her stomach again. She faced forward, trying to ignore the disapproving voices of the Sisters that had just roared to life.