The Lady Of The Storm Part 5

He patted Apollo's rump, but the gelding did not need any urging from him, and picked up a quick trot.

Cecily dropped her arms as the little mare followed, a loud splash and a new puddle behind her on the trail. But Giles noticed that translucent wisps of vapor still clung to the young woman's cheeks and hair.

The trail curved back toward the ocean and they rode atop jagged cliffs that ended in smooth rocks below, the view to their left now hidden by bush and tree.

"You do not resist your magic now."

She brushed a rather damp tendril of hair away from her cheek. "It's odd, but it feels stronger than it ever has before. It's as if I unleashed a dam when I used it to save the village, and now the fallen stones resist my attempts to block it back up... Oh, it's hard to explain."

"I think I understand." Giles glanced down at the hilt of his sword. "We humans were not meant for elven blood and magic."

"Besides," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken,

"I see no reason to hide what I am anymore. My attempts at a normal life have failed miserably."

"Normal is boring."

"It is safe."

He did not reply. Safe was boring too, but the lady would probably argue about it for the next several hours if he told her so. They rode for a time in silence, twilight falling gently about them, until it grew cool enough that Giles pulled his coat back on. Just over the rise ahead they should be able to spy the small town that boasted an inn. He had stayed there many a time to barter his trade. The rooms were tiny and damp, but the innkeeper's wife served up a delicious fish stew.

Giles pulled back on the reins. He narrowed his eyes at the town below them and muttered a curse.

Cecily pulled the mare a bit ahead of him, craning her head to see down the rise. "What is it?"

"Bluecoats. Everywhere." But it must be a somewhat peaceful occupation, for his sword did not try to fly into his hand, only hummed a bit in the scabbard. "Just keep the horses walking."

When trees blocked their view again, Giles urged Apollo to a trot, until they'd left enough distance behind them for comfort.

"Why this sudden interest in our small villages?" asked Cecily.

"There have been rumors that Breden of Dewhame is building up his army again, that he intends to win back the king from Mor'ded of Firehame."

Cecily wrinkled her rather pert little nose. "I don't see why they care whether the king resides in Firehame or Dewhame. It's not like the king has any true power anymore."

"It's part of the game, my lady. Whoever wins the king has beaten the other elven lord in skill and battle... although it's humans who suffer the true losses. For the Imperial Lords, it's just a matter of pride and love of chaos."

"I wish they had never opened the door to our world," she said with a s.h.i.+ver.

"Then you never would have been born."

"Point taken. Then I wish they would open it back up and leave."

"Not very likely. They consider their home world of Elfhame... boring."

"Peace is not boring."

Giles shrugged. He would not debate this subject with her either, so he switched to the subject he'd been meaning to discuss all day. "There could be another reason for the soldiers' presence, Cecily. They could have heard about the magic you performed in our village."

"So soon?"

Giles knew the elven lords had a magical means of communication, but again, if Thomas had not seen fit to tell her... "Anything's possible. So to be safe I suggest you do not use your full powers. I think we can escape them if we move in secret, but if you use that magic of yours, they will know where to look for you."

The trail brought them closer to the channel again, and the wind picked up with a vengeance. She b.u.t.toned her coat while Giles did the same.

Cecily raised her voice over the crash of the waves. "I'm back where I started-running and hiding. I won't do it again."

Giles studied her face, looking for the determination behind her words, but unable to stop himself from noticing how lovely she looked in the wind, with pink cheeks and curls of midnight hair playing about her face. Her lips were a dark red, like the finest claret, and so d.a.m.n kissable that he wondered where he'd found the force of will all those years ago to deny them when she'd offered. Of course, she was a woman now and not a young girl and that made a difference... although he knew he had done the right thing, the only thing he could have under the circ.u.mstances...

Alas, what had she been saying? Oh, yes. "Do not think to give yourself up to Breden of Dewhame. The elven lord does not understand mercy. And despite your impressive magic, you would not stand a chance against him."

"Must he hate me so?"

Her voice trembled and he brought Apollo to a stop, the mare placidly halting alongside. He reached down and touched her shoulder in sympathy, a flare of tenderness running through him. "Do not allow yourself to think that the elven lords have feelings like we do. It is not in their nature. Indeed, their own people consider them mad, or so says Thomas."

Her eyes flashed. "Thomas is my true father."

"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 pa.s.s through. The ocean breeze no longer pummeled them, the crash of the waves now m.u.f.fled. 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. Seash.e.l.ls had been imbedded into the walls to form pictures of sharks and dolphins, and seals near the bottom. A layer of blue sh.e.l.ls 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 d.a.m.n 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 surrept.i.tiously 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 l.u.s.ter at her every movement. He wanted to fill his hands with the silken stuff and bury his face in it.

d.a.m.n 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 s.h.i.+fted 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 circ.u.mstances... 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, relis.h.i.+ng 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 antic.i.p.ation of a fight, no doubt.

His shoulder still ached a bit from his wound, and he groaned and s.h.i.+fted 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 s.h.i.+ny 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 s.h.i.+fted, 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 l.u.s.t 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."