Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (20 page)

“Please, Rhys,” Ravyn said before he could answer. “If not us, who will look for the missing Bringers? We’re Bringers. We don’t run from a fight.”

She slung his words back at him.
Damn her
.

“I’m the lord of Alba Haven and I have final say. You’re not ready.”

Ravyn glared at him. He knew he was being a hypocrite but he couldn’t put her life at risk.

“We could get her ready,” Luc offered.

Rhys pinned him with a stare meant to dispel further ar-guments. Unfortunately, Luc was not so easily intimidated.

“You could train her—
we
could train her,” Luc said. “Teach Ravyn what to expect and how to handle herself?”

Rhys paced beside the table. “I never intended to dangle her in front of the Bane.”

“I can handle the Bane, and I’m not afraid of the Council.” She stood and blocked his path. “Don’t keep me locked up, Rhys. I’ve lost too many years hidden away behind stone walls.”

Damn her.
How could he demand she stay within the walls of Alba Haven when she’d nearly chosen not to come at all? He saw the determination in her eyes and knew she had no intention of staying cloistered.
Damn her for making him care
.

He kicked the chair, swearing under his breath. “I don’t like this plan.” He paced across the room and spun, pointing a finger at Ravyn. “We’ll train first.”

She nodded vigorously.

“Until I’m satisfied you’ve gained control over your fire.”

“Understood,” she said.

“I say when we leave,” he continued.

“Fine,” she gritted out.

Rhys turned and looked at Nattie and Luc. “Understood? I make the rules. I won’t risk her life.”

“Understood,” Luc said.

Rhys glared at them. “You’re all a bunch of fools.”

Chapter Fifteen

Rhys waited for her in the kitchen the next morning and they began their day with another wonderful meal from Nattie. Excitement coursed through her. Today she would start her training, the first step to becoming a Bringer. After breaking their fast, they left the main building and walked down a wide walkway she hadn’t seen yesterday.

Life at the abbey was calm compared to that of Alba Haven. People bustled about Alba, readying supplies for the voyage to the Council and putting up winter stores. Every person seemed to have a job.

They passed through a large outbuilding that opened at both ends. Large copper vats of dye bubbled over low flames, and different shades of dripping spun yarn draped over long racks that spanned the entire length of the building. A large circle around the vat had been worn deep by a donkey harnessed to each spindle over every vat. As the animal walked, large paddles stirred the dye to keep the color mixed and consistent.

“Each year the women weave new blankets and repair all the old ones in preparation for the wet, cold winter,” Rhys explained. “Alba Haven, for the most part, is self-sustaining.”

Their tour ended at the training field. Luc and several other men sparred with a variety of weapons, and three men practiced on an archery range that stretched along the outer wall.

Ravyn look around. “Don’t women practice?”

“Some.” Rhys guided her onto the field. “Mainly they do the support work for Alba.”

His statement grated on her. Why were women expected to help but not fight? “Can they spar if they choose?”

“The women here are not like you, Ravyn. They don’t have extraordinary power to make up for their lack of strength and skill.”

“Well, maybe they wouldn’t lack skill if you and your
boys
trained them.”

He stopped. “Many have families to care for. We can’t risk losing the mothers as well as the fathers.”

A valid point, but his condescending tone set her teeth on edge. “Did you ask the women their opinions?”

He pushed her toward the men, effectively silencing her comments. “The subject has never come up.”

Ideas churned in her mind. The importance of people to support the army was obvious, but not every female had children. She tucked the information away. Maybe Nattie would have a better perspective on the situation.

Ravyn spent the rest of the day familiarizing herself with Alba Haven’s armory. Rhys and Luc reenacted several battle situations to demonstrate the proper stance and hand position of each weapon. She also received pointers on deadly circumstances, how to avoid them, and how to escape if she did find herself at a disadvantage. Never once did they approach the subject of her powers. By the end of the day, she was dirty, tired, and starving.

Nattie took pity on her, feeding and healing her. All the bruises and most of the aches dissolved under her touch.

From that point on, their lives fell into a pattern, and over the next two weeks, every day passed with the same routine. In the morning, she practiced rudimentary riding, fighting skills, and target practice. With each session, her strength and control grew. In the afternoon she, Rhys, and Luc honed her powers. People gathered to watch and cheer with each task she mastered. As her confidence grew the years of scorn for being different faded. Here, among people who accepted her, she’d found her home.

But today, things were not perfect. For the tenth time since training had begun that morning, she kicked her horse forward. Like the nine times before, Ravyn reached for the short spear and pulled it from her side holster. And like all the other times, the spiked tip tangled in the folds of her skirt, disrupting the flow of her movements, her timing, and her aim. She released the spear.

She cursed before the weapon even reached the target. “Damn.”

The spear rocketed past the mark and bounced off the back wall. She cantered her horse around the training grounds. “
Damn!
”

“Concentrate,” Rhys barked.

“I am concentrating. My gown keeps getting in the way.”

“Learn to compensate for your dress,” Luc chimed in.

She rolled her eyes. “‘Learn to compensate for your dress.’ ‘Concentrate.’ I’d like to see you put on a skirt and do this.”

The gathered crowd remained silent. Most of residents had quickly learned the safest place on the training ground was behind Ravyn. More than one unsuspecting spectator had received an up-close look at the tip of her short spears. As she rounded the bend, Ravyn saw Nattie step out on the field.

“That’s enough for now,” Nattie yelled. She waved Ravyn to her. “Ravyn is coming to town with me.”

Ravyn pulled her horse to a stop. She still had hours of instruction, and Nattie knew it.

“We’re in the middle of training,” Rhys said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Then
you
continue to train.” The healer glared, challenging Rhys to argue. “I’m taking Ravyn with me.”

“How can we train her if she’s not here?” Luc asked.

The gold bangles at Nattie’s wrists jangled as she shrugged and held up her hands. “How should I know? I’m just a humble Redeemer. You two are the great Bringer warriors. Figure it out. Why don’t the two of you beat on each other for a while? You used to spend hours doing it when you were younger.”

Ravyn caught snatches of the men’s complaints, something about being a serious warrior and hard work, but they didn’t openly argue. Ravyn couldn’t blame them. When Nattie decided she wanted something, there was no use in disagreeing. The memory of the woman’s ruthless healing was still burned into Ravyn’s mind.

She slipped from her horse and handed the reins to one of the grooms. “What are we doing?”

“Shhhh,” Nattie hissed and smiled.

Ravyn didn’t care what the old woman had up her sleeve. The men’s unreasonable demands to concentrate or try harder chafed at her. If this errand gave her a break from their company, then she was game.

“Don’t be long. We still have a lot of work to do,” Rhys yelled.

“We’ll be back when we’re back,” Nattie countered.

She took Ravyn by the arm and, with a firm grip, led her through the crowd and to the front gates of Alba Haven.

“Open the gate, Siban,” Nattie said, barely slowing her pace.

A hint of surprise flashed across his face. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business,” she snapped, stopping to glare at him. “Now open the gate.”

Ravyn watched the exchange, certain Nattie was the only person on Inness who would dare speak to Siban in such a manner. He didn’t move.

“It’s dangerous out there.” He drawled. “Where’s your escort?”

She smirked. “You offering?”

Siban looked between her and Nattie before turning to pull the bolt free. The towering gate creaked open and Nattie propelled her forward.

“If you’re not back before midafternoon, I’m sending Rhys.”

Nattie huffed and pushed Ravyn through the gate, not giving him a response.

“Where are we going?” Ravyn said.

“Shopping.” Nattie looked at her and smiled. The door groaned closed behind them. “It’s about time you have some proper clothes.”

“You gave me plenty of gowns from the wardrobe room last week. I don’t need anything new.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She picked up her pace, causing Ravyn to skip a few steps to keep up with her. “You’ll thank me when you see what I have in mind.”

Their trek to the market was all downhill, which meant going home would be uphill. Ravyn decided not to dwell on that part of the trip. Nattie marched her down dozens of narrow alleys. It was one thing to ride through Alba on Sampson and quite another to walk amongst the throng of people. She reinforced her mental shields, blocking out their uncomfortable presence.

They picked their way along muddy streets, where the smell of urine and decay emanated from doorways and puddles. People stared, following them as they maneuvered through the crush of the homeless, prostitutes, and drunks. Ravyn scooted and squeezed, trying not to touch the unwashed masses. There were slight tugs at her pockets, as if small hands deftly checked them for treasure. She had no money for them to steal.

Uncertainty plagued her the farther they traveled from Alba Haven. Rhys would be furious if he knew she was beyond the gates and unprotected. Though she’d gained confidence in her abilities over the last two weeks, she was still untried in the real world.

Her stare tracked along the buildings, searching for the tiniest hint of Powell’s presence. Twice, the soft prickle of needles irritated her arms. Her heart raced as she scanned the street for lurking Bane, but saw nothing. The warning could have been anything from a demon watching from a rooftop to a drunk Bane minion. It didn’t seem like her senses differentiated between caution and danger. Only grave peril managed to engage her fire. Though she tried, she couldn’t locate the exact cause of her alarm. As they moved down the street, the irritation faded but Ravyn didn’t relax her vigilance.

A cacophony of sounds echoed off the buildings as they exited the dark street and entered what looked like the town center. Notes from an oboe squeaked in time with the low thump of a drum. A woman in blue veils danced for the milling crowd, the tiny bells at her waist jangling as she spun and gyrated. Coins clanked against a metal cup placed beside the oboe player.

The quick flicks and slow rotations of the dancer’s hips mesmerized Ravyn. Her body swayed like a charmed viper, drawing her toward the woman. A firm hand grasped Ravyn’s wrist, breaking the hypnotic spell.

“Don’t watch,” Nattie said. “She’s a Splinter.”

Ravyn dragged her gaze from the dancer. “Splinter?”

“Gets under your skin and you become obsessed. Usually men, but everyone is susceptible to their allure. I’ve seen men spend every cent in hope of winning the Splinter’s affection.” She pushed her way through the crowd. “That’s what they want—to drain every last coin from a person and then move on to new, rich prey. It’s old, dark magic.”

Even now, the image of the swaying woman swirled through Ravyn’s head. She slammed her mental shields, surprised that the music’s haunting whine was able to penetrate her now formidable blocking. “I’ve never heard of Splinters.”

“Because you don’t associate with such scum. Respectable people usually aren’t privy to the unsavory side of society.” She released Ravyn’s wrist. “Trust me, Alba’s market is one of the seediest places I know.”

They passed merchants calling out and waving their wares, attempting to lure patrons into their shops. Open carts with vegetables lined the street. Butchers hung strips of meat from racks in front of their stores in hopes of enticing customers. Ravyn thought the only thing the dark, crusty meat would attract was flies
.
Her stomach clenched.

She slowed as they passed a covered stall. Birds chirped and sang from cages, and a toothless old man sat amongst the choir, weaving a tiny cage from twigs. Bright green birds the size of plums hopped from perch to perch, ruffling their feathers.

However, it was the silent beauty in the brass cage that drew Ravyn. Orange and gold feathers swathed the body, and long, brilliant red plumage draped below the bird’s perch like fiery lace.

“It don’t sing.”

Ravyn glanced at the old man. “What is it?”

“Firebrand.” He stopped weaving. “You want to buy it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have any money.”

He gave her a gummy grin. “I’ll give you a good price.”

She looked around for Nattie, but she was too far ahead. “I still don’t have any money.”

He harrumphed and went back to his weaving. “Nobody’s ever got money for that bird. Stupid thing don’t sing.”

Ravyn certainly understood the need for freedom. “Maybe she’s unhappy. Maybe she doesn’t like being caged.”

“Birds aren’t happy or sad. They’re just dinner.”

Ravyn scowled at him. “That’s awful.”

“If you think it’s so awful you should buy the bird and save its life.”

The Firebrand watched her, its golden eyes steady, not darting like the spastic green birds. Ravyn ran her hand along the horizontal bar that circled the cage. Flashes of light sparked at her fingertips and tingled into her hand. “Maybe I will.”

She jumped as the bird spread its wings and trilled. The old man dropped his basket and stood to stare into the cage as the bird continued to sing.

“What did you do?” he asked.

She stepped away from the cage and instantly the bird settled, growing silent again. “Nothing.”

The old man looked at her. “I think you should buy it, yes?”

“Yes.” She glanced around and saw Nattie waiting for her near the corner of a building. “I have to go now, but promise me you won’t sell her.” The man gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ll pay you double the amount if you keep her until I get back.”

“Double?” the old man said. Ravyn nodded, praying Nattie would lend her the money. “You come back tonight?”

“Yes.”

“All right. I wait.”

“Thank you.” She gave the doleful bird one last glance.