Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (9 page)

Ravyn shuddered and pulled her blankets snugly around her, as if to shield herself from his story. “Those poor children.”

He stopped and stood beside the bed, forging on while the words still flowed. “Thinking they’d quelled the threat, the Bringers returned through the arch to their home. But before they left, The Order asked for volunteers to stay in Inness in case the Bane returned.”

“Stay for how long?”

“Forever. Any Bringer who volunteered would cut all ties to his old life and remain on Inness. The Archway doors were to be sealed to prevent the Bane from entering.”

Ravyn closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t imagine making such a sacrifice. Why would anybody agree to that?”

Rhys pulled a wooden chair up next to the bed and sat. He bent and rested his arms on his thighs. “My parents told me duty and principles were the most important things to a Bringer. Not volunteering showed disloyalty to the crown, which in return brought dishonor to the Bringer and his family. I can only assume that’s why my parents volunteered to stay.”

Her question rushed out in a cloud of amazement. “Your parents fought with King Arron?”

“Yes, and they agreed to stay behind and guard the humans.”

“I can barely believe it.” She wrapped her arms around her bent legs and rocked forward like a child listening to a scary tale. “What happened? Did the Bane become too strong?”

“Not at first. For seven hundred years, the Bringers lived without incident from the Bane. Vile is a most devious and patient demon.”

Rhys looked at the floor. He tapped his index fingers together in a steady cadence to center his thoughts and keep his anger from coating his words. To relate the story meant closing off the pain.

“With no sign of the Bane for several centuries, the Bringers relaxed their watch,” he continued in a steady voice. “They integrated themselves into human society. Some even fell in love and married humans.”

“They must have produced hundreds of children—hundreds of mixed Bringers.”

“From what I’ve learned there are several thousand of us scattered around the world. My parents were already married and remained together. Most who volunteered to stay in Inness were unattached Bringers in their primes.”

“That’s quite a sacrifice. At least they found some happiness in this foreign land.”

“Perhaps. I’ve always assumed the Bringers performed their duties.” He stood and gazed down at her. “But given the choice, they would have returned home.”

“Were all the Bringers who stayed behind murdered?”

He gripped the back of the chair. She needed to know their history, but remembering the day his parents died opened a tender wound. “Yes. Vile and his minions systematically assassinated each full-blooded Bringer. They were ruthless and calculating.”

A dozen emotions played across her face. She licked her lips as if preparing to say something. Normally the action would have aroused him, but he knew the movement was nothing more than a prelude to another prying query. Indecision wavered on her face. “Were you there?”

He wished she hadn’t asked. He straightened, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes. I was there.”

Those four words tore his wound wide open. He walked to window, seeing nothing but his memories of that grievous day. Despite the warm sun, a chill raced through his body. He hated remembering. “I was six years old.”

The rustle of bedding issued behind him, followed by soft footsteps. Wrapped tightly in her blanket, Ravyn moved to stand a few arm lengths away. He glanced at her and back out the window. Her concern blazed like a roaring hearth on a winter day.

“What happened?” Her need to console him spread across the distance like giant wings, but she kept her distance.

Images pushed their way to the forefront of his mind, and suddenly he was six again. “The demons attacked my parents.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “My father told me to stay hidden, but I didn’t.”

Screams and the clanking of swords reverberated through his memory.

“I wanted to help.” The vision of that day gripped him. “My parents fought bravely. They moved like dancers, protecting each other’s backs while slashing and blasting demon after demon.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t so horrific.”

Ravyn took a small step closer. He looked into her pale eyes and some of his anguish eased. She gave him a slight nod, encouraging him to continue. For the first time he wasn’t reliving these memories alone. He couldn’t look away.

“I wanted to help. My father saw me charge into the horde of demons and yelled. I don’t know what he screamed. I was too panicked. Before I’d run ten steps, one of the Bane caught me and slung me over his shoulder. There were too many. My parents were overpowered.”

Guilt. Shame. Vulnerability. His three jailers never let the memory of their deaths fade. “When I saw my parents’ limp bodies, I kicked and scratched at the creature. Surprisingly, it released me. I dropped and crawled through the blockade of legs to get to my father. I could barely see from crying so hard. The Bane taunted me as I crawled to my father’s body.”

Tears swam in Ravyn’s eyes. Her question was no more than a whisper. “What happened?”

“Not since that day have I experienced such anger.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I grabbed my father’s dagger from his hand and tried to drive it through Vile’s heart.”

The room seemed to grow smaller. The air around him compressed against his chest. He turned back to the window and closed his eyes against the memory, but the recollection wouldn’t be silenced. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I wanted to feel my father’s blade split that demon’s flesh.” The memories threatened to steal his voice as the images unfolded without mercy. “Vile caught my hand before I could drive the knife into his chest. The other demons laughed, but Vile didn’t. He knelt before me, staring, as if searching for something in my expression. I remember his foul breath panting against my face, and his yellow eyes.”

“How did you get away?”

Rhys looked at her and gave a harsh laugh. “I didn’t.”

Ravyn shook her head. “But you’re still alive.”

“Yet another mystery to add to my saga. I can’t tell you how I survived because I don’t remember much after I spit in Vile’s face.”

Ravyn blinked. “You spit in a demon’s face?”

The memory still granted him a sliver of satisfaction. “Yes.”

“What did he do?”

Rhys clasped his hands behind his back. This was the easy part, speaking of his torture. It was no less than he deserved. If he’d listened to his father and stayed hidden, maybe his parents would still be alive.

“I think Vile had been contemplating what to do with me, but when I spit in his face, I sealed my fate. He wrapped his hand around mine, nearly breaking my fingers. He said, ‘If you miss your mommy so much, why don’t you join her?’ I couldn’t fight him. He was too strong. He guided the dagger to my chest.” Rhys walked to Ravyn and took her hand. She stiffened but didn’t resist. Unlike Vile’s grip, he gently curled her fingers into a fist and placed it against his chest, his hand covering hers. “Right here.”

Tears slipped from her eyes.

“I remember pressure and a twinge of pain when the blade bit through my skin. I remember Vile’s sneer, and then nothing until I woke two days later.”

Ravyn lightly squeezed his hand and opened her fist to release his fingers. “How did you survive?”

He shook his head “I don’t know, but as you can see I am still very much alive. I regained consciousness in a monastery. A monk named Brother Archibald had witnessed the battle and gathered me up after the Bane had left me for dead. He removed the dagger while I was unconscious and…” He held his hands out to his sides. “I healed.”

“How is that possible?” Ravyn tightened the blanket around her and leaned against the edge of the window. “You should have bled to death.”

“At the very least. But the good Brother proclaimed I’d been saved by a miracle.” He held up his hand to stop the tirade of questions on the tip of Ravyn’s tongue. “I tell you only what the monk told me. I have no answers for you, not even a scar to show.”

She gazed out the window. “There must be more to the story.”

He walked to the pitcher and poured a goblet of cool water. The same words had tumbled through his mind for the first fifty years of his life. But he had grown tired of looking for answers where there were none.

Rayvn gasped and jumped away from the window, pressing her body against the wall. “Powell.”

“Here?”

She nodded vigorously.

Rhys set the goblet on the table and walked to the edge of the curtains. “The monk seems very determined to find you.” He inched forward and pulled the curtain aside. “Where?”

“Near the main road entrance.”

Powell stared down at Orvis from atop his horse. Rhys scrutinized him, committing everything from his stringy blond hair to his muddy, but expensively made, boots to memory. From the look of his mount, the monk had wealthy connections.

Orvis shook his head in response to something Powell said and then pointed down the road toward Itta.

“Well done, Orvis.”

“What is he doing? Is Powell still there?” Ravyn’s voice wavered.

“Yes, but Orvis is sending him toward Itta. We’ll travel in the opposite direction.”

Orvis pointed toward the inn as if inviting Powell to have a meal. The monk shook his head. The innkeeper waved his arms as if trying to cajole him off his horse.

“Don’t overdo it, Orvis.”

“Overdo what?” Ravyn still stood pressed against the wall, unwilling to look out the window. “He’s not coming in, is he?”

Rhys watched the monk shake his head. Finally, Orvis delivered a convincing show of acceptance and gave a quick bow. Powell scanned the front of the inn and its patrons. His gaze tracked up the side of the building, lingering at their window. Rhys didn’t move. He doubted Powell could see into the darkened room but he didn’t want to draw his attention with any sudden movements.

“What’s happening?” Ravyn whispered.

Rhys didn’t reply and after a several seconds, Powell kicked his horse and headed toward Itta.

Rhys dropped the curtain. “He’s gone.”

Ravyn released a heavy breath but didn’t appear relieved. “He’ll be back.”

“Perhaps.” He walked to the door and stopped. “Get dressed. We need to get you healed as quickly as possible. I’ll wait outside.”

He stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him, trying to not imagine Ravyn naked mere feet away. Rhys straightened, on alert as footsteps thumped up the stairs at the end of the hallway, but he didn’t relax when Orvis turned the corner. Rhys met the innkeeper midpoint, away from Ravyn’s hearing.

“You had a visitor,” Orvis said.

“I saw. What did he want?”

“He was looking for a girl and the man who kidnapped her.” His unspoken question hung in the air.

“Yes,” he flicked his head toward their room. “She’s the girl he’s looking for, and no, I didn’t kidnap her.”

Orvis crossed his arms over his belly. “I didn’t think you had, but a man can never be too safe when it comes to his family.”

Rhys nodded but didn’t elaborate.

“You’ve never given us any reason to mistrust you. I won’t start now. Besides, the monk gave me an uneasy feeling. Can’t put my finger on it but he wasn’t acting right.” He pointed to his head. “In here.”

“Thank you for your help. Once Ravyn is healed, we’ll be on our way.”

“As long as you’re honest with us, you’re welcome here. Can’t fight what we don’t know about.”

“Of course.” Rhys clasped Orvis by the shoulder and extended his hand. “I’m in your debt.”

Ravyn’s voice floated from under the door. “I’m dressed.”

Orvis’s eyebrows raised and he smiled. “Best not keep the lady waiting.”

Rhys smirked but didn’t dissuade the man of his notion that there was more than protection between Ravyn and himself. Let Orvis think what he wanted.

Rhys entered to room to find Ravyn sitting on a straight-backed chair in only her shift and a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her posture was stiff.

She stared at the wall. “I need your help getting dressed.”

“Of course.” He closed the door and grabbed another chair on his way across the room. “Let’s heal you first, and then dress you.”

She nodded but still wouldn’t look at him.

He opened his saddlebags and pulled out his healing pouch. Unlike before, he removed only the pendants, placing one over his head and one around Ravyn’s neck. There’d be no need to change the fresh bandages until morning. He sat facing her. She shifted to the edge of her chair but her spine remained unyielding.

“Relax. This won’t hurt…much.”

Her eyes darted to his face and he smiled. Her posture softened slightly. “Have you ever healed yourself?”

Rhys rubbed his chin with the top of his hand. “No.”

“Never once?”

He shook his head.

“Not even when you’ve been gravely injured?”

“I’ve always healed naturally unless Nattie got ahold of me. Then I had no choice but to instantly mend.”