The Lady of the Storm - 2 (7 page)

“Indeed. So think of him. You cannot find him if you give yourself up to Breden of Dewhame.”

She nodded, and Giles breathed a mental sigh of relief. The young woman could be stubborn and unpredictable, but she would listen to reason.

Giles urged Apollo forward, allowing the gelding to pick his way carefully in the near darkness. The jagged cliffs had softened to a smoother slope down to the ocean, and he took a trail that he remembered from his visits here. Once in Dorset, however, he would be in unfamiliar territory, and would have enjoyed the adventure of it if he didn’t have the young woman to protect.

“Where are we going?” she asked from behind him.

Giles did not answer, for she would see quickly enough. Sand softened Apollo’s hoofbeats. Giles guided him to the right, behind a fall of rock that looked solid, but held a gap just barely wide enough for the beast to pass through. The ocean breeze no longer pummeled them, the crash of the waves now muffled. When Giles felt the chamber open, he dismounted and set about gathering driftwood by feel, and making a fire.

The flames lit the cavern and Cecily still sat atop her horse, staring about with joy.

“I knew you’d like it,” he said. Faith, every time he came here he had thought of her, and how he would like to show her this place. He just never thought he’d actually have the opportunity to do so.

Magic had crafted this cave, he knew. But how or why, he couldn’t fathom. Seashells had been imbedded into the walls to form pictures of sharks and dolphins, and seals near the bottom. A layer of blue shells separated water and sky, with a myriad of birds crafted above. Some of the birds he could put a name to: puffins, razorbills, and kittiwakes. Some he could not identify, and wondered if they were native to England… or perhaps that fabled land of Elfhame. For dragons had also been crafted on the ceiling above, with wings spread wide and claws outstretched. And although he’d only seen them from a distance, he knew the dragons had been brought with the elven lords when they’d opened that door between the worlds.

“It… moves,” breathed Cecily as she continued to stare about her. “Look, Giles, the dolphin is jumping through the waves. And, ho, that seal is evading that shark and making him angry.” Her eyes widened as she tilted her head farther back and stared at the ceiling. “Those dragons are battling one another… the black one is breathing fire, and the blue… that is Breden’s dragon-steed, Kalah. I’d heard that he belches lightning…” She shuddered, quickly pulling her gaze down from the scene above.

Giles rose and approached her horse. Her face had gone white. “What is it?”

She shook her head, her lower lip trembling. “I wielded lightning once. It’s deadly. And so powerful.”

“When you escaped from Firehame?”

She nodded.

“And that is why you have turned your back on your magic?”

“No one should be able to hold that much power. It makes you feel…”

“Frightened?”

She smiled at that, too sadly for his liking. “No, Giles Beaumont. It makes you long for more. It makes you want to destroy, just because you can.”

He did not know what to say. Perhaps he knew the young lady’s habits from watching her all these years, but he suddenly realized he really didn’t know her at all.

Giles held up his arms to her and she allowed him to help her off the horse. Her legs wobbled beneath her, so his hands lingered on her shoulders to keep her from falling. Or so he told himself. In truth, he enjoyed the feeling that touching her always seemed to excite in him.

“You are not used to riding so long in the saddle.” His voice surprised him. Low, husky, as if he spoke to one of his lovers.

She looked up at him and damn if he didn’t think he’d drown in her eyes.

She licked her lips.

He would not kiss her. Thomas had forbidden any familiarity with his daughter. Giles’s own ambition of working for the Rebellion made the act disastrous. Pretty girls had always gotten him into trouble, but not this time. The stakes were too high.

Giles dropped his arms and broke whatever spell had fallen between them. He turned and saw to the mounts, removing their saddles and spreading the blankets on the sandy floor near the fire. He frowned, and then set the blankets on opposite sides of the fire. ’Twas a sad thing when he couldn’t trust himself to sleep next to the minx.

Cecily didn’t comment on his actions, just settled herself atop one of the blankets when he finished arranging them. From his pouch he withdrew some dried fish and journey cakes lumpy with nuts and berries, and handed them to her while he fetched water from a small spring near the back of the cave. By the time he’d finished watering the horses, Cecily had finished her meal, removed her hat, and unplaited her hair.

Giles settled himself on his blanket and surreptitiously watched her while he ate his meal. She drew a comb through her hair, and although the black strands lacked the white color of the elven, it appeared to sparkle with a silver luster at her every movement. He wanted to fill his hands with the silken stuff and bury his face in it.

Damn it.

He brushed the crumbs from his lap and drank greedily from his flask.

Another glance across the fire, and he saw the tips of her slightly pointed ears as she combed her hair back from her face. Cecily always kept her ears covered with her hair by means of tightly binding it down in the back. The rare sight of them made him feel as if he’d glimpsed some forbidden flesh.

He shifted where he sat.

Lud, he’d seen her naked more times than he could count. A bit of softly spiked ear should not have bothered him. Perhaps it was due to their new understanding of each other, or perhaps to their circumstances… but now that he pondered it… hadn’t he dreamed of the sight of her body every night? Hadn’t he been disappointed by one lover after another, when they lacked the long length of Cecily’s legs, or the dark pink of her nipples, or the small beauty mark on her left hip?

Perhaps the sight of her nude body
had
bothered him more than he allowed himself to admit.

When he glanced up again, she’d braided her hair and covered those ears. He couldn’t decide if he felt relieved or annoyed.

“Are you well?” she asked.

“Why?”

“You made an odd sort of noise.”

“Did I?”

“Mmm.”

They sat companionably for a time, with the distant sound of the surf and the snuffling of the horses to dispel the quiet. Despite the summer evening, a chill emanated from the walls of the cave and Giles unrolled his cloak.

“Did you bring a wrap, Cecily?”

“No. You told me to pack lightly, and I needed my petticoats.”

“Yes, of course. Here.” Giles stood and walked around the fire, feeling as if he breached some intimate barrier. He took a breath and ignored the feeling, crouching and laying his cloak lightly about Cecily’s slight body. He allowed his hands to rest on her small shoulders for a moment, relishing the contact, breathing in the scent of her hair. Lavender. Soft and sweet.

“Thank you,” she said a bit stiffly, and he noticed how she’d stilled, like a doe in sight of an arrow.

He flinched away from her. Just because she’d offered herself to him all those years ago did not mean she desired him now. Indeed, with all the upheaval in her life, and his sense that she blamed him for most of it, the young woman had every right to regret being forced upon this journey with him.

As he settled himself back on his blanket, he told himself it was probably for the best. If he couldn’t manage to control himself around her, at least she did not suffer from the same weakness.

Giles removed his sword belt, but left it near to hand. He felt safe enough within the cavern not to stand watch, but that would probably not be true for the rest of their journey, so he’d best get some sleep while he could. Besides, his devil-blade always alerted him to danger.

In anticipation of a fight, no doubt.

His shoulder still ached a bit from his wound, and he groaned and shifted as he lay down. His eyes tried to make out the dragons above, but the smoke from their fire obscured the mosaic. After a time he heard Cecily lie down as well, but he refused to look at her again.

Apollo snorted and the wind moaned. Except for their small ring of light, the black of night surrounded them like a shroud.

“I cannot sleep.”

Cecily’s words drifted over the banked flames. He’d never noticed how smooth her voice sounded, like water flowing over stone.

“Tell me about your sword.”

Giles glanced at his devilish blade. It lay quietly within his scabbard, looking for all the world like any other ordinary weapon. Perhaps an even less-than-ordinary blade, unless someone looked closely. The stone that had once been imbedded in the pommel had long ago fallen out, leaving behind a small depression. The leather on the hilt had been worn down to shiny smoothness, only the wire encasing it allowing a firm grip. The quillon was nothing more than two plain crosspieces of metal, lacking any sort of engraving or design.

But the blade itself looked newly forged, without dent or scratch, and never needed sharpening. “My sword?”

“Up until yesterday, I thought it but an ordinary weapon.”

“Up until yesterday, we had no battles within the village.”

She shifted, and he caught the gleam of a soft cheek, the sheen of midnight hair. “I vow, Giles, it
pulled
you into battle. How did you come by it?”

He threw an arm over his eyes. “’Twas my father’s blade, and the making of it, my younger brother, John’s. From somewhere far down our family line came a strong influx of elven blood, and although I inherited the looks and grace, John inherited the magic of the Imperial Lord of Bladehame.”

The thought of his brother made his chest constrict. Time should have dulled the memory of his young face, but he could see it just as clearly as if he had but seen John yesterday. So small and plain, but those silver eyes of his glittering with the enormous elven power he could wield. As the eldest, Giles had felt John to be his responsibility, and perhaps that was why his father had not told him of the testing, until after John had been taken. Giles had been furious with his father, and they had exchanged harsh words before he had died. Words that Giles now regretted.

His mother had died long ago, so he had been left with no one. For a long time, Giles had felt lost and alone. Until he had discovered the Rebellion. And had filled the emptiness inside of him with a lust for vengeance.

For some reason, Giles wanted to tell Cecily about John. And perhaps, a bit about himself. Giles could not imagine what opinions she had formed about him, and he found that it mattered. More than it should. “When my brother and father died, the sword came to me with a promise. A promise to avenge their deaths.”

The wood in the fire crackled and popped.

“I suppose,” she said, “that the Imperial Lord of Bladehame… Lan’dor, is that his name?”

“Aye.”

“I suppose he discovered your brother’s talent for magic and sent John to Elfhame after his testing. But the chosen ones aren’t sent to Elfhame, are they, Giles?” He heard the shift of her skirts. “It is true what Thomas says, then. That those gifted with enough magic to threaten the elven lords’ rule are murdered. And your father must have known this. But what of your father? How did he die?”

It became harder and harder to speak. Giles swallowed against his dry throat. “At the hand of Lan’dor of Bladehame. This devilish sword had been crafted to murder the elven lord.”

Cecily gasped, and Giles dropped the arm from his face, met her gaze across the fire. “John forged it with his own blood. To withstand not only any blade of steel, but magical assaults as well. When they hauled John away after his testing, my father challenged Lan’dor. But the devil-blade could not withstand the power of an Imperial Lord
and
his scepter.”

Shadows played across her lovely face, and he saw but flashes of the sad curve to her lips, the welling of tears in her eyes. “And so you joined the Rebellion.”

“Aye. It will take the might of many to defeat an elven lord. Or…”

She finished the thought for him. “Or perhaps the powerful daughter of but one.”

Four

Cecily woke the next morning surrounded by the spicy scent of the blacksmith’s skin. Her eyelids flew open with a start. She took in a deep breath before she realized the scent came from the cloak around her, then hastily threw off the covering.

He still slept, with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other resting upon his sword. His broad chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, his mouth slightly parted and his white-blond hair spread about him like a halo. His face looked a bit pale and Cecily wondered if his injury still pained him.

She frowned at the thought, and quickly scurried out of the cavern, avoiding the mosaics on the wall. Beautiful, yes, but their movement made her dizzy.

The crisp morning air erased any lingering drowsiness. Seabirds swooped above the waves and scolded each other with harsh cries. She skirted clumps of green and purple seaweed and scuttling crabs. A boulder with a slight overhang provided an outdoor dressing room for her to strip, a protrusion of stone a dry shelf to store her clothing.

What use had she for fine palaces when her beach provided her with all she needed?

The thought made her think of Mother, and the way she had always seemed to be a great lady, even in their humble cottage, and tears burned Cecily’s eyes. How she wished she could talk to Mother about her confused feelings for Giles.

Cecily ran into the waves, sucking in a breath when they reached past her hips, but she soon became accustomed to the coldness of the water and dove into the next high wave. It didn’t take her long to find what she sought.

Lobster. Giles loved it.

With a skill from many years of capturing them, Cecily avoided the snapping claws and managed to carry several of the large shellfish back to dry sand. She set them in a small tide pool while she dressed, humming a tune beneath her breath. And caught herself.

She bowed her head, staring down at her hands, the skin only slightly puckered from her long swim. How could she feel so content after all that had happened?

Because she had been thinking only of Giles, and the look on his face when she brought his morning meal.

She carried her shoes in one hand and lobster in the other, the fine sand softly padding her footsteps as she returned to the cave.

No, ’twas more than Giles. Despite losing the life she’d worked so hard to achieve, she was no longer hiding. She’d made a decision, and would confront the Rebellion on her own terms. She would find her father. She had to believe she hadn’t lost everything.

She did believe it.

Her footsteps felt light as she walked along the tunnel-like rock that led to the hidden cavern. Belle nickered at the sight of her, Apollo deigning to give her a snort, and suddenly Giles flew to his feet with sword in hand.

Cecily froze.

“I overslept,” he said with a scowl.

“Nay, you but slept longer than I.”

“Where have you been?”

She held out her catch with a proud grin. “There’s no need to eat dried fish when the ocean is so near.”

Giles sheathed his sword but not the stern look upon his face. “Never do that again.”

“What?”

“Leave my side. Don’t you realize I’m supposed to protect you?”

She could argue with him. But it would serve no purpose. “Alas, I had forgotten, brave knight. This weak and defenseless maiden will never leave your sight again.”

Her sarcasm was not lost on him. His handsome face turned an alarming shade of red and he strode toward the back of the cave, watering the horses while Cecily proceeded to build up the fire and cook her catch. When she judged it done, she broke open the shell with a rock and dug out the sweet white meat.

Boiled and buttered, it could not have tasted better.

The smell drew him back to the fire, as she knew it would, and he took what she offered without a word. He sat and ate, occasionally closing his eyes as he chewed, the irritation on his face slowly fading.

“I love lobster.”

“I know.” Ah, it felt good to say that back to him. “You are not the only one who is observant.”

His brow rose. “Are you saying you spied upon me?”

“Certainly not.” She would not admit that her gaze had always been drawn to him. Not ever again. One such humiliation in her lifetime would be sufficient. “Everyone saw the stack of shells you left upon the table at the last harvest gathering. Faith, the men were
wagering
on how high it would get.”

He smiled and Cecily’s eyes widened. His lips curled in such a boyish manner, his head tilting to the side and a fall of his thick silky hair shadowing his high cheekbone and angled jaw. He looked slightly embarrassed and proud and utterly delicious.

Heaven help her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “About raising my voice to you. I forget what you truly are, even though you showed me the proof of your powers—”

“No,” she hurriedly protested. She could not bear that smile alongside an apology. It was more temptation than she could defend against. “I apologize for my saucy tongue. Mother always chided me for it.”

He captured her with his gaze. Although he had the physique and grace of the elven, his eyes were entirely human. A normal-sized dusky green, like the color of the ocean on a cloudy day.

“Despite what your father kept telling me, I saw nothing but a normal girl for many years.” His lips quirked. “A very pretty normal girl, mind you, who could stay submerged beneath the waves for an unusually long time, but who showed very little magical ability. But now I have seen the proof of your powers and I know you can surely defend yourself but I have not adjusted—”

“Do not,” she interrupted. “Please do not treat me other than a normal girl. I could not bear the changes that have happened to me otherwise.”

Silence lay between them for a moment, until Cecily could finally tear her gaze away from his.

“Well, then,” he said, the jauntiness in his voice sounding only a bit forced. “You have now agreed to my full protection and I have yet found a lady who regretted it.” He rose and began to gather up his things and pack them back onto the horses.

Cecily rolled her eyes, a grin on her mouth despite herself, and doused the fire and packed her belongings. She allowed herself to enjoy the mosaic on the walls for a last time, but soon they were both mounted and on their way.

Giles took paths that led them farther and farther from her ocean. It made Cecily feel an odd sort of panic, but thankfully the land still held so many lakes and streams and fountains that she comforted herself with the sight of them.

But within a few hours even those bodies of water started to dwindle.

“Where are we?”

“Dorset,” he replied, sparing her no glance, for his eyes constantly surveyed their surroundings, and she would swear the tips of his pointed ears perked at every rustle of the brush. They rode through a soft land of rolling hills and yellow gorse, an occasional fiery red tree dotting the landscape. Giles must have taken a route specifically designed to avoid any more villages or towns, for nary a cottage did she see.

The landscape changed as they rode down into a valley, and soon they were surrounded by rocky mountains and tors.

“There is a spring ahead,” breathed Cecily. She could smell the water.

Giles turned in the saddle and looked down at her with a worried frown. “What is wrong?”

She wiped away a trickle of sweat that seeped from beneath her straw hat. “I have discovered that I’m… uncomfortable without the presence of the ocean beside me.”

“We are in the sovereignty of Firehame, and will see more flame than water. But by evening we will reach the Hants, and there are many streams within the forest and you should feel better. I should have thought—I have a map memorized in my head, but it lacks much detail. Where is the spring? We will stop there for our midday meal.”

Cecily gave a crooked smile of relief and pointed to the right. Giles found it beneath an overhanging boulder, with enough shade for them to sit side by side while they ate another meal of dried fish and journey bread.

When she had finished, Cecily removed her tucker and dunked it in the cool liquid, dousing her face and neck. She did not think about the cleavage she revealed until she felt his gaze upon her.

She turned and he swallowed his last bite. Rather forcefully.

He quickly averted his gaze and Cecily frowned, pushing her soggy tucker back into the
V
of her bodice. She could not figure this man at all. Oh, she well understood that after living in the same village for years—despite the fact that they’d barely exchanged a few words to each other in the past few—it would be natural for them to feel some sort of familiarity with one another. Especially after Giles had revealed his secret.

And she had always felt a certain… light-headedness around him. Most of the village girls did. He could not help his handsome face or fine figure, no more than she could help her large odd eyes. But since that dreadful night when she’d made such a prodigious fool of herself, she had realized he felt no attraction for her person whatsoever.

Yet he looked at her with such hungry eyes…

Pshaw. ’Twas only her way of transferring her own desire to him. He looked at her bosom as he would any woman’s. He was but a man, despite the mix of elven blood that flowed through his veins.

And she could not even think that they were friends. Temporary companions forced to journey together.

She had misread his kindness and natural charm before. This time she would not.
She would not
. No matter how many times she had to tell herself—

A muscular arm wrapped about her shoulders and then her mouth, dragging her deeper into the hollow of the boulder. His hand muffled her cry of surprise but she reflexively struggled anyway, gathering her magic to help free her from his hold.

“Stop,” he whispered, his mouth against her ear. “Fire demon.”

What?

But she didn’t have to wait long to understand, for several whirling orbs of flame bounced along the valley floor, no more than a few feet from where they huddled. Following those harbingers walked a creature she could not have imagined.

Red fire shaped a being that had legs like a man but flowed across the ground rather than stepped. A black, dripping mess formed the semblance of a face and an emaciated body.

Cecily froze and Giles angled his body in front of hers, that sword of his appearing to jump from his scabbard into his hand.

The horses had been grazing on a patch of grass in the path of the creature. Their nostrils flared and they suddenly bolted, their flight not hampered a whit by Giles’s and Cecily’s belongings still strapped to their saddles.

The fire demon laughed, tossing a ball of orange flame at the beasts, hitting poor Belle squarely on her rump. The little mare squealed, her shorter legs pumping to overtake the faster gait of Apollo. Cecily gasped in sympathy, and the demon stopped, glowing eyes studying the rocky walls of the valley.

When those red orbs slowly settled on their hiding place, a flush of weakness made her muscles go limp. When the unnatural creature flowed toward them, Giles let out a curse and leaped at it. Cecily watched, still frozen with fear, as the demon threw another ball of fire straight at Giles.

He dodged, with unnatural elven swiftness, his sword slicing through the fireball and dissolving it into a shower of sparks. It appeared that the blade had enough power to disarm the magic of a fire demon, if not that of an Imperial Lord.

The flaming creature roared, making Cecily jump and finally freeing her from the terror that had held her immobile. Her hands trembled but her fingers followed her commands, coaxing the water from the spring, swirling it into small translucent tornadoes.

Giles danced around the demon, dodging more flaming spheres and occasionally getting in close enough to nick the thing with the tip of his sword. Wherever he touched it, a small hole appeared, but quickly closed up again with a lick of black fire.

The demon roared in frustration and this time gathered a blob of black sludge that dripped down its face, flung it at Giles. It hit the blacksmith on his injured shoulder, setting his coat aflame.

Cecily pelted Giles with a tornado.

It doused the flame but made him stagger in surprise, his gaze flying to hers in fury as he fell. The demon laughed, or at least, a similar imitation of one, and moving as swiftly as fire igniting dry thatch it swooped down upon the blacksmith. Giles rolled with an agility and grace that testified to the amount of elven blood flowing in his veins, but Cecily could not see past the flames to tell if he’d avoided the demon’s attack.

“Fie,” she breathed, and launched the full force of her swirling water at the monster. But the small spray had little effect on the demon, and the spring quickly ran dry. Cecily reached deeper into the earth, inside the very mountain itself, where an underground river flowed dark and cold. It came to her call through the narrow opening of the spring, cracking the edges of the earth and shaking the mountainside itself.

A deluge of water fell upon the fire demon and the creature turned its burning red eyes in her direction, screaming defiantly as it slowly withered to a puddle of black.