Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (16 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Ravyn sighed when Sampson emerged from the narrow canyon and into the sunlight. Warmth seeped into her chilled flesh and melted the goose bumps left by the brisk breeze that blew through the pass. The expansive walls of the city stretched along the horizon before them.

Ravyn gaped. Never had she seen such a sight or so many people in one place. They joined the teeming crowd heading across the open flats and through the massive arched entrance of Alba. She searched the face of every person she could see, afraid Powell lurked within the bustling mob, watching and waiting to attack, but she saw no sign of him.

The smell of salt hung in the air as if trapped by the mountains. Ravyn flexed her fingers against the fine deposit of moisture that settled on her skin and quickly dried to a crusty layer.

As they drew closer to the city of Alba, a tingle slithered up her neck and along the side of her face. She opened her mouth and shifted her lower jaw but the pressure in her ears continued to build. A hazy film blurred her vision, bringing with it a wave of nausea. Saliva pooled in her mouth and she swallowed several times as her throat prickled with the urge to vomit. She swayed in the saddle, the heavy presence painfully invading her mind. She slapped her hands over her ears.

Noise—so much noise.

Rhys stopped Sampson and twisted Ravyn around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s too much—too many people with me.”

“Too many what?”

She clawed at her ears, wanting to peel open her skull and let the pressure bleed from her head. “People. Noise.”

“Reinforce your mind.”

She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

Rhys covered Ravyn’s hands with his and eased her against him. “Relax.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Pick what you want to allow in.”

She tried but still couldn’t focus. Every ounce of her will fought against the encroaching presence that seemed determined to squeeze the very soul from her body. Unable to do as Rhys instructed, Ravyn built a solid wall in her mind and blocked out everything. The expanding heaviness lessened with each mental stone she set in place. Slowly, she lifted one finger at a time to test the noise level.

Blessed silence.

Ravyn’s shoulders and arms relaxed.

“That’s never happened before. The Bane penetrated my shield when we battled, but this…” She waved her hand toward the crowd. “This is different.”

“How?” Rhys said.

She looked at the city before them. “It felt as if all these people shared the same space with me.”

Rhys’s solid hands rested on her shoulders. “Your powers are growing.”

“I don’t understand.” She shivered against the sensation of losing herself inside her own body.

“I experienced the same thing when I was young,” he said. His deep voice and firm touch anchored her to the present. “Eventually, I taught myself how to select what I would allow in. I nearly went insane from the awareness of living among, and sometimes within, another being.”

Ravyn nodded and regretted the movement. Her head pounded from the brief experience of having hundreds of people crammed into her mind. “There were no conversations, just other entities within the space where I existed. I couldn’t tell where I ended and they began.”

“It’s not a comfortable awareness. I can allow the presence in when I want. It takes practice. We need to focus on your training once we reach Alba Haven. You’ll need to fight with your mind and body.”

“The abbey was horrible.” She paused. “But at least life was quiet most days.”

“There weren’t many people and you probably learned from a young age to block what you didn’t want to experience.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You
will
learn to master all your powers. Until then, I’ll protect you.”

The declaration poked at her pride. She wasn’t completely helpless. Hadn’t she proved she could defend herself, at least a little bit? She understood Rhys’s natural instinct to protect and shield, but she doubted anybody could keep her safe if the Bane truly wanted her. The tireless monsters had no conscience.

Now, each day seemed to add another dimension to her powers. “How did you manage on your own with no one to explain the changes you were going through?”

“At times I wanted to die. Even tried to kill myself once. Slit my wrist.” He loosened the leather band around his wrist and pulled it back to reveal a faint white scar. “Hoped I’d bleed out.”

Ravyn traced the smooth scar with her finger. “Why didn’t you?”

He yanked the leather back into place and tightened it. “I healed too quickly. There was barely any blood.”

The thought of Rhys so desperate he’d tried to kill himself tugged at Ravyn’s heart. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Me too.”

She twisted to look at him. His answer had been devoid of feeling or inflection. “Do you mean that?”

One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Most days.”

They followed a bright blue covered wagon along the main road. A young boy dangled his legs over the end of the cart, laughing at the antics of a wiry monkey wearing a purple hat and vest. The animal swung from a metal perch attached to the roof, screeching and jumping each time the boy snapped his fingers, which produced a green flame in his hand. Just as quickly, the child smothered the fire only to repeat the action, much to the monkey’s delight.

Ravyn watched, amazed. She’d never seen a monkey other than from illustrations in a book. Her fingers itched to touch the creature’s fur. Would it be soft or bristly? And could one hold such an animal? It hopped about as if its feet were on fire. Such strange and wonderful things existed outside the walls of the abbey.

As they drew closer to the city, Ravyn could see that sections of the wall were crumbling. The grandeur she’d been expecting fell short. Dirty children with outstretched hands crowded around them, each pleading for a coin. She recoiled, heartsick by their gaunt faces. Never had she seen such desperate souls, not even at the abbey.

Rhys tossed a handful of coins into the dirt a few yards away, the tinkling of metal whistling through the air. Like swooping vultures, the children descended on the money, leaving them to enter the city in peace.

“Repent! Repent! The end is near,” called man in a tattered monk’s robe.

He looked like no monk Ravyn had ever seen. “Is he from The Order of the Saints?”

“Not any longer.” Rhys pulled Sampson to a stop as the carts and people jammed the entrance to the city. “His name is Malachi.”

“But he used to belong?”

“Yes. Now he spends his day prophesying the end of man.”

The old monk caught her staring at him and pointed a boney finger at her. “The end of days is upon us. The flying scourge will bleed this land of blood and spirit.” He folded his hands in prayer and took a step toward her. “Hear our cries, oh merciful angels.”

Ravyn couldn’t look away, his words sending shivers up her spine.

“A legion to lead. Three to triumph.” He began to weep. “Angel, don’t forsake us.”

A wagon rumbled toward the old monk. “Get out of the way, idiot!” shouted the driver.

Malachi fell against the wall, where he sat mumbling to himself.

“What does he mean a legion to lead, three to triumph?” she asked.

She felt Rhys shrug. “He’s a crazy old man. His words mean nothing.”

Ravyn couldn’t shake the feeling that his rants weren’t mere ramblings. Like the symbols in the books, his warning rang of familiarity. Sampson moved forward and Malachi was soon forgotten as they entered the crush of the city.

Her gaze bounced from one sight to another, but still she couldn’t take it all in. The odors of unwashed bodies, mud, and wet straw invaded the air, never giving her nose a respite. People loitered everywhere. Shops and houses sat one on top of the other. Narrow streets branched off in all directions and faded into murky darkness.

Sampson turned off the main road and traveled along one of the sinister-looking alleyways. With every step, they burrowed deeper into the seedy labyrinth of Alba. She leaned against Rhys, trying to take comfort from his solid, safe form. He enfolded her in his arms but said nothing, as if wanting her to absorb the city’s full measure.

People eyed them from open windows and doorsteps. Three scantily clothed women flaunted their breasts, trying to entice her and Rhys to purchase their services. Ravyn stared, shocked by their brazen display. These must be the women the Sisters had preached about. Guilt at what she felt whenever Rhys touched or looked at her eased. She was not like these immoral women, eager to give themselves to anybody willing to pay.

The women targeted her and Rhys, offering to do things not only to him but to her as well. She had never heard of any of the acts they shouted, but she knew they were of a sexual nature. Heat infused her cheeks when one of the women rubbed her exposed nipples and shook the flabby globes at them. Ravyn faced forward, not daring to look at Rhys, even though she was more than a little curious about his reaction to the offer.

Sampson wound his way along the narrow alleys as if he knew where he was going. His pace quickened as he circled his way up a steep cobbled street, finally stopping in front of a smooth, black wall. Two tall metal doors embedded in the stone sealed in whatever lay beyond. Rhys slid from the horse’s back.

Ravyn glanced around uneasily at their surroundings. “Are we here?”

An unconscious man lay sprawled in a doorway a few yards away. His snores echoed off the narrowly placed buildings and mixed with the high-pitched squeak of two rats that rooted through the garbage near the man’s limp hand.

Rhys reached to help her from Sampson. “Yes.”

Several doors down, four men eyed them. They slouched against a stone wall and passed a thick, brown bottle between them. All wore tattered clothes and suspicious expressions. They looked as if they weren’t averse to committing a crime if the act got them what they wanted. Ravyn stepped closer to Rhys and slipped her hand into his.

Surely, she’d be killed—or worse—if she ever had to travel within Alba.

He glanced at her and then at the loitering men. “Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you.”

“Do they know that?” She pressed into him, not letting more than a few inches separate their bodies.

He grasped Sampson’s reins. “Yes. Although it took a few lessons before the message sank in.”

She watched the group for any sudden movements. “I bet it did.”

He lifted the iron ring on the door and slammed the metal knocker down. The low thunder of the knock ricocheted along the length of the barrier. The sleeping man coughed and shouted at some imaginary foe in his dream.

Ravyn faced the doors, not wishing to experience any more of Alba’s ambience. She rubbed her temples and concentrated on strengthening the shield around her mind. Weariness made the act an effort. She inhaled and imagined a layer of ice around her barrier. The mental din dropped back to a tolerable level. She opened her eyes and sighed.

The faint tang of urine and the strong stench of stale ale burned her nostrils. She pulled the edge of her cloak over her nose. Sainted Ones, she hoped Rhys’s home smelled better than this.

Rhys turned his head as if listening. Footsteps crunched on stone. She willed herself not to look at the group of men as a loud clanging of chains and the scraping of gears drew her attention back to the door. The thump of a large bolt sent waves of relief through her as the clatter of more chains rattled against the door.

Ravyn looked at Rhys and raised both eyebrows in a silent question.

“This may not be the best neighborhood in the city.”

She dropped the cloak from her nose. “Uh-huh.”

One of the thick doors heaved open. The groan of heavy hinges echoed off the buildings. Sampson nudged them aside and trotted into the enclosure.

“He’s happy to be home,” Rhys said. He pulled her along and moved beyond the gate. “Come.”

“Where is he going?”

“He knows his way to the stables. The boys will take care of him.” He smiled. “Sampson is rather spoiled here at Alba Haven.”

A man as tall as Rhys stepped out from behind the door. His hair hung in thick, brown coils to his shoulders and a dark beard shadowed his face. “Welcome home, my lord.”

“Siban, it’s good to have you back.” Rhys grasped the man’s thick forearm and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

Siban stiffened. “Good to be home, my lord.”

Rhys leaned away and held the man’s gaze for a few seconds longer. Some unspoken message passed between them and suddenly Ravyn felt like an intruder. Of course, these two had a shared history. Was it battle, death, loss?

There were probably many people who shared more joys and sadness with Rhys than she had. Moreover, there were probably women from his past, maybe even some who lived at Alba Haven. Up until this moment, she’d had him to herself. Now she was entering his world. Uncertainty crept through her. His world, what did that mean? Each phase of this journey had exposed her to ways of life she’d never imagined. Would she fit in at Alba Haven or be ostracized like at the abbey?