A Sea of Shields (Book #10 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (15 page)

Steffen sat on the top of the mountain ridge, on a small plateau, looking out at the countryside spread out below, and, still reeling from his encounter with his family, wiped away a tear. After instructing the royal caravan to wait down below, he had hiked up here, alone, to this spot he remembered as a child, the spot he would always come to be alone. The ridge, made of rocks and gravel, climbed steeply into the air, the crater at the top now a small, shallow reflecting pond, with a radius of perhaps twenty feet. It was a quiet, empty place, a place to reflect with nothing but sky, rocks, water, and wind.

A gust of wind pushed back his hair, and Steffen looked down at the rippling waters, reflecting the two suns in the sky. Being up here brought back his childhood. Too many times he’d come up here to get away from all of them, to stare into these waters and hope to see a different person staring back. A person who was not disfigured. A person with a perfect body and perfect shape, like all of the others. A person who was tall and strong and broad; a person his father could be proud of.

Usually, after a certain point, he’d stop looking. He’d look away instead, disappointed in himself, as usual, and understanding why others were disappointed in him, too.

This time, as he sat there, Steffen forced himself to keep looking, to stare into the waters. He saw his crooked shape, his short height, and he examined himself carefully. He did not have the good looks of all the others; and yet, this time, he also saw something else. He saw that his eyes, a light cream, were not terribly unattractive; neither was his auburn hair, thick and wavy, falling past his ears. If it were not for his shape, his body, he was not the ugliest man in the world.

When he looked into his face, he saw a face too big for his body—but he also saw a long, strong jaw and chin, saw a man who was proud and determined. A man who would not let others keep him down. A man who would not treat others the way he had been treated. Steffen took pride in that. He had a bigger heart than all of them, than all of those cruel people down in that village. It made him wonder: who, indeed, was the misshapen one? Why did he empower those people?

He would never have his family’s approval, but he could live with that. His own approval, he was starting to realize, could be enough.

“Steffen?” came a voice.

Steffen wheeled, surprised anyone else was up here—and even more surprised to see a beautiful woman standing there, perhaps twenty, wearing the simple garb of the villagers.

She looked down at him sweetly, not with the hate of the others, the same sweetness he’d detected in her voice. Very few people spoke to him in that sort of tone, kind and compassionate. He stared up, blinking, and wondered for a moment who she was.

“Do you not remember me?” she asked.

Steffen examined her closely. Her face was beautiful, her eyes almond-shaped, her jaw and cheekbones chiseled, with big wide lips, light brown eyes, and light brown hair to match. She was tall and thin, and as he examined her, he noticed her right hand was missing two fingers.

His eyes lit with recognition as it all flooded back to him.

“Arliss?” he asked.

Arliss nodded sweetly, and smiled.

“May I sit with you?” she asked.

Steffen looked up at her in wonder. He could barely catch his tongue. He could hardly comprehend how long it had been since he’d seen her, how beautiful she had become—and the fact that she had come all the way up here and actually wanted to sit with him. He looked up at her, wide-eyed with shock.

“When was the last time I saw you?” he asked, reeling.

She smiled sweetly.

“When we were six,” she said.

He looked at her, flabbergasted.

“You have grown,” he said.

She laughed.

“As have you.”

He blushed, not knowing what else to say.

Steffen had never forgotten her. Growing up, Arliss had been the only one in his village who had been kind to him. Perhaps it was because she had been missing two fingers—imperfect, like him, it made her understand; the others had been cruel to her, too. But Steffen had always seen her as beautiful—the most beautiful girl in the village—and had always been so grateful for her kindness. Indeed, it had been the one thing that had sustained him up to the time he’d left, had taken away his darkest moments. He had never forgotten her, and had always wondered if he would ever see her again.

“May I sit with you?” she repeated.

Steffen remembered himself; he immediately slid over, making room for her to sit beside him.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked.

“Word spread you’d come to town, and I figured this is where you would be,” she replied.

Steffen sighed and shook his head.

“Some things never change,” he said.

“Did you see your family, then?” she asked.

He nodded, looking down.

“I should have known better,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, understanding in her voice, knowing everything immediately, as she’d always had. She understood all too well.

“I do not live near here anymore,” he said. “I live in King’s Court now. I serve the Queen.”

“I know,” she said, smiling back at him. “Word spreads quickly here.”

Steffen smiled.

“I forgot. The houses in this town have no walls.”

She laughed, a light carefree sound that restored Steffen, made him forget his woes.

“You coming through here with that royal entourage is probably the most exciting—and humiliating—thing that has ever happened to this excuse of a village. I think they’re all sitting down there in shame right now—at least, I hope they are.”

Steffen frowned.

“It is not my intention to shame anyone,” he said, humbly. “I came here because the Queen sent me. Otherwise, I never would have again.”

Arliss laid a hand on his wrist.

“I know,” she said, reassuring. “I know who you are. We grew up together. I’ve never forgotten you.”

Steffen turned and looked at her, and he saw her staring back at him with eyes filled with love and compassion. No one had ever looked at him that way before, and his heart began to pound. Was it possible? His entire life, Steffen never received the gaze of a woman’s affection; he’d had no idea what it felt like. But now, unless his eyes were deceiving him, he thought he was seeing exactly that.

“I never forgot you either, Arliss,” he said. “I assumed you’d grown up and gone away. That you’d likely married some local lord.”

Arliss laughed.

“Me? Marry a lord? Are you crazy?”

“And why not? You were the most beautiful woman in this village.”

Arliss blushed.

“In your eyes, perhaps. Not the eyes of the others. In their eyes,” she said, holding up her hand missing the fingers, “I’m a freak.”

Now Steffen laughed.

“And I am not?” he countered.

Arliss laughed back, and they laughed together. It felt so good to Steffen to laugh, something he rarely did, and all the tension of the day began to dissipate. Just sitting next to Arliss made him feel good. Someone who actually cared for him; someone who shared something with him, who was equally oppressed by this place; someone who understood.

“So?” Steffen asked. “Did you ever marry?”

Arliss shook her head, looking down.

“It is a small village. Not many men to choose from. Not that any man here ever looked at me with anything but scorn.”

Steffen felt himself surge with hope upon hearing she was unwed.

“Would you like to leave this place?” he asked.

It was the boldest thing he’d ever said, and the words just poured out of his mouth, without his even taking a moment to think of what he was saying. They just felt right. Arliss was clearly trapped here, and Steffen wanted to free her from this bondage, from this awful place of small-minded people. Yet if he had given it some thought, he probably would not have worked up the confidence to ask her. But it was more than just that; he also, as he’d always had, loved her.

Arliss looked at him,  her eyes wide in surprise and wonder.

“And how might I do that?” she asked.

“You can come with me,” he found himself saying, his world a blur as he was speaking, the words stumbling out, changing his life, and hers, forever. “Come with me to King’s Court. You can stay in King’s Castle. There are many rooms.”

“I’m sure the Queen would love that,” she said, sarcastic.

Steffen shook his head.

“You don’t understand. I am one of the Queen’s right hands. If I ask for something—and I never ask for anything—she would grant it. More than that, she sees through people. She would see your good nature. She would love you. I’m certain of that. In fact, she would be happy to have you there.”

Arliss’ eyes flooded with tears, and she laughed as the tears slid down her face. She wiped them away quickly and looked away, then right back at Steffen.

“No one has ever spoken to me the way you have,” she said. “I do not know whether to believe it. I’m so used to being made fun of.”

“As am I,” he said.

Steffen realized he needed to let her know how serious he was.

He rose and held out a hand, looking down earnestly. Slowly, hesitantly, Arliss took it.

“Those days are behind you now,” he said. “Never, in my presence, shall you be made fun of again.”

Arliss rose, holding Steffen’s hand, and looked into his eyes, long and hard. They each held the stare, and Steffen felt himself getting lost in her eyes, lost in another world, lost in something greater than himself—something he had never experienced before.

Arliss did not look away, and Steffen, suddenly, found himself overcome with emotion, and leaning in to kiss her.

Arliss did not back away. Instead, she waited, and at the last second, she leaned in, too, her lips trembling on his.

They kissed, the first time Steffen had ever kissed a woman, and to him it felt like it lasted forever. When it was over, he felt like a changed man. He felt he understood what love meant.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said, unsure. “I did not mean to be too forward.”

Arliss looked down, squeezed his hand, and held it tight. Then she looked back up and smiled.

“Nothing,” she said, “has ever made me happier.”

Alistair walked beside Erec, each holding their horse by its reins, a dozen Silver behind them. She was thrilled to finally be dismounted and have some time to walk quietly with Erec. This journey, heading south so that they could embark for the Southern Isles, had been taxing, most of all because Alistair hadn’t had much quiet time with Erec. Now, finally, she and Erec walked out in front, the two of them alone, walking close to each other. They had all ridden most of the way, but as they reached this narrow mountain pass, they had all dismounted to walk with the horses, the trail too rocky, the fall-off too steep in either direction.

Alistair welcomed the break, welcomed the opportunity to be able to walk beside Erec, to finally have a chance to speak with him without the sound of galloping horses in their ears. There was so much she had wanted to say to him. Most of all, she just wanted to be close to him. She was a bit nervous about leaving the Ring, crossing the ocean, about the huge adventure that lay ahead of them. They’d be leaving her homeland, entering a foreign kingdom. Would his people like her?

Alistair felt as if she never had a chance to spend time alone with Erec, to get really close to him—there were always some events coming in between them. And now that they were finally alone, there were so many things she wanted to ask him. So many, in fact, that her mind froze up, and she could think of none.

That was okay, though; just being with him in the silence was enough.

As they walked side by side, Alistair was awestruck by the vista that spread out before them. She looked out at sweeping valleys and ridges, lit beneath the beautiful summer suns, fields of tall, orange grasses swaying in the wind. How incredibly beautiful the Ring was, she thought, especially now, in summer, entire valleys filled with trees of every color. It was a place of incredible bounty, of such prosperity and peace. A part of her never wanted to leave.

Alistair felt overwhelmed with conflicting emotions as she thought back to all she was leaving behind. Her brother, Thorgrin, just as she was beginning to know him. A part of her wanted desperately to seek out her mother, too.

There was also her new sister-in-law and friend, Gwendolyn. Alistair had been looking forward to her wedding so much, and a huge part of her wanted to stay behind and be there for it, as she had promised Gwendolyn. She felt as if she were letting both her and her brother down.

What bothered Alistair most of all was her premonition, no matter how hard she tried to shake it, that terrible things were coming for the Ring. She tried to ignore it, to discard it as nonsense. After all, the Ring had never been more secure. What bad could possibly come here?

Alistair reached over to take Erec’s hand, and as she did, she could feel the warmth coming off of it, and she knew, above all, she had to be here, by her husband’s side. She
wanted
to be here. Despite everything, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. Her people needed her, but her husband needed her more—and she would not be happy if she were not by his side.

Erec squeezed her hand.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he said. “It is a journey I would not wish to take without you. I can’t wait for you to meet my people.”

Erec smiled at her, and she smiled back as she held his hand. It was the right decision. After all, his father was dying, and it was past time for him to return to his homeland. And once they reached the Southern Isles, they would marry. Nothing meant more to Alistair than that.

“I would journey with you to the ends of the earth, my lord,” she replied.

They walked until the trail forked, and they all came to a stop. To the left, atop the ridge they had been walking, the path continued—but it also forked to the right, sharply down, curving off in a different direction.

Erec and his men all began to take the path downward, but Alistair stopped in her tracks, her entire body suddenly feeling cold. Her eyes opened wide as she sensed something—a powerful feeling. She stood there, frozen.

Finally, Erec and the men realized, and they all stopped, too, and turned and looked at her.

Erec looked at her with concern.

“What is it, my lady?” he asked.

Alistair looked down in terror at the trail they were about to embark on.

“We cannot go down there,” she said. “The trail is not safe.”

“What do you mean, my lady?” one of the Silver said. “This trail has been traveled for centuries. And against warriors such as us, no thieves stand a chance.”

Alistair stared at the trail, and she did not back down. She felt something off.

“I do not know what it is,” she replied, “but I know it is not safe. If you take that path, you will die.”

They all turned and looked down at the trail, wondering, skeptical.

Erec walked over to her and took her hand. He faced the men.

“If my lady says the trail is unsafe, then it is unsafe. We shall follow her.”

“But my lord,” one of them protested, “that trail offers the most direct way to the ship. To go another way would lose us days. We could miss the ship. And for what? A premonition?”

Erec’s jaw tightened in Alistair’s defense.

“I said we shall not take that trail,” Erec repeated firmly.

Erec turned and, taking Alistair’s hand, forked to the upper trail. Reluctantly, all his men fell in behind him.

As they walked, Erec squeezed her hand, leaned over, and whispered in Alistair’s ear: “I trust you, my lady.”

Alistair was about to reply, but before she could, suddenly, there came a great rumbling. They all turned and looked below, and they watched as there suddenly came a tremendous rockslide, huge boulders separating from the steep mountain ridge, rolling down. In moments, they completely filled the trail below them—the trail they all would have been on had they chosen the opposite fork just moments before.

They all stopped and turned to Alistair in awe.

She could feel all the eyes on her. They all knew that if they had gone the other way, right now, they would all be dead.

Alistair didn’t know where her power came from. A part of her did not want to know.

Was it even greater than she could ever imagine?