Chapter 8
There’s no bright sun to greet us in the morning, only rumbling thunder in the distance and moisture thick in the air. We ride hurriedly and anxiously, skating the outskirts of the storm that seems to stalk our path.
Our lead diminishes around midday. Dark clouds block out the sun and cast the day into an eerie gloom. The bite of electricity fills the air in anticipation of the storm that’s closing in.
We are still a few hours away from Eida, the last proper village before we cross out of the Emerald Region.
If we push the horses to run through the howling wind, we can make it by supper.
Our meager tent won’t withstand the gusts this storm promises to bring, and one look at Captain Murphy tells me that he doesn’t wish to spend the night in the elements either.
Lightning flashes through the sky, causing my mare to thrash against the reins.
“Easy girl,” I call out in a feeble attempt to reassure her.
“We need to hurry,” Murphy yells. A strong burst of wind rattles the trees forcing him to pull his cloak tighter across his broad chest. “I have a bad feeling about this storm.”
The signs of wildlife that are usually present in the forest are noticeably absent. There are no squirrels scampering across the branches or rabbits hopping in the underbrush. Everything has taken shelter; everything except us.
We spur the horses onward as the dam that’s been holding back the water in the clouds finally cracks. It starts as a drizzle—the steady kind of light rain that embeds itself into the fabric of your clothing, soaking you slowly.
It rains like that for more than an hour before the clouds open up and release the full contents of their stores. The wind relentlessly whips my sodden cloak from my body, removing any shield that I might have from the biting cold.
“We need to move faster,” Murphy yells over the roaring wind and rain.
I nod in reply, dropping the hand that I’m currently using to shield my face and urging my cantering horse into a gallop.
We ride headfirst into the worst of the storm in a desperate attempt to close the distance between us and Eida, and the warmth of the inn that awaits there.
Magic tingles in my veins as an unsettling feeling swirls thick in the air around us.
It’s the same feeling from last night—the one that sent my power into a frenzy.
I force air into my lungs, hoping the torrential downpour of rain will subdue the fiery spark of power that threatens to break free.
A loud crack bellows through the woods and my horse rears up on her hind legs at the noise.
She lets out a frightened whinny as orange flames burst to life in the tree overhead.
A thick, large branch dangles, mere seconds away from snapping completely off.
I tug on the reins trying to turn my mare, but she fights me.
The horse may not want to move, but if she doesn’t, I’ll meet Death sooner than I’d like.
With one last ditch effort, I swing my leg over the saddle and fling myself from the horse’s back. My kick spurs the horse to bolt to the side as I fall face first into the muddy road. I tuck my shoulders in towards my knees, flinging my wet cape over my head.
I brace for impact, but instead of crushing pain from a branch, a deluge of water knocks me further into the mud. Water pours down my face as I gasp for air, my head swimming as calloused hands pull me upward.
“Are you hurt?”
I can barely hear his muffled words for the liquid pooling in my ears. I shake my head to clear it, my eyes catching on a pile of ashes laying only inches from my muddy hole. Smoke still rises from where it burned only moments before.
Captain Murphy pulls a drenched rag from his pocket and begins to wipe the mud from my face, a well-intentioned gesture that only serves to smear the wet earth further.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
There’s an unmistakable anger in his voice. He probably thinks I’m an idiot, and I certainly feel like one right now.
“I was trying to save myself.”
My words are barely a whisper as the last dregs of my adrenaline from my near brush with death evaporate, leaving me shaking in his hands. Murphy pulls me tightly against his chest in an effort to stop the tremors that overtake me.
That rush of strange power floods my system again and I allow myself a moment of weakness. A single moment to crash into his depthless gray eyes, to drift carelessly in the endless pools of brackish water that stare back at me.
It’s a mistake. One that might very well cost me. Because right now, I barely have the strength to fight the pull of his riptide.
A droplet of water runs off the tip of his nose and lands on the center of my bottom lip. He reaches to swipe it away using the pad of his thumb and slowly pulls my lip down before letting his finger drag down my chin.
I suck in a ragged breath and feel the warmth in my veins ignite into a blaze. The heady rush of magic surges and the air grows thick with tension. Thunder cracks overhead again, breaking the spell. I step out of his hold and tighten the ties on my soaking cloak.
Murphy whistles and our horses rush to his side. “Try not to jump off this time, princess,” he says on a shaky breath as he hands me the reins.
I take them, careful not to touch him again. I’m still in fight-or-flight mode, maybe even more so now that the realization of my moment of weakness settles in. I can’t form words and I’m thankful for the icy chill that settles between us in their absence.
The sun has set by the time we finally arrive in Eida. Everything I own is drenched and my bones ache to be in front of a fire.
Even though it’s been hours, we haven’t spoken since the incident with the branch, and I’m not sure what I’ll say when we finally do.
I should thank him for helping me, but I would have thought less of him if he didn’t.
And I’m not sure I’ll be convincing enough yet to tell him that I don’t want him to ever touch me again.
I wait at the entrance to the small stable while Murphy gives detailed instructions to the groom. Water streams off the roof’s overhang and my hand instinctively comes out to touch it, creating four tiny rivulets that dance as I wiggle my fingers.
What would it be like to command it with my power?
Water is necessary for the land to thrive, and while my magic may create blooms and invigorate plants, they cannot thrive without its sustaining force.
But water can also be dangerous. A river looks quiet and peaceful at first, but given time it will erode deep valleys and canyons into the land.
A simple rainstorm can turn into a flash flood sweeping away anything and anyone in its wake.
Water is a delicate balance between life-giving and life-ending.
So are all the elements, really, and perhaps those who wield them are not dissimilar.
“Ready, princess?”
Murphy’s rough voice jolts me from my thoughts. My fingers are still intertwined with the water and I don’t miss the half-smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth when he notices.
“For dry clothes and a fire? Always.”
I grab my bag from his hand and bolt across the small yard that separates the stable from the inn.
The onslaught of the bright lights and warm air from inside the tavern is staggering.
There’s an immediate welcoming ambience to this place.
It’s crowded with people sharing drinks and laughing while folksy music lilts through the room.
A large hearth roars in the corner with plush chairs pulled up to face it.
Cozy booths line the remaining walls on both sides of the small dining room.
There’s a happiness to this place that contrasts the dreariness of the storm raging outside.
A half door that must lead to the kitchen swings open, and a small, cheerful woman steps out carrying a large tray of steaming bowls.
Her hair and skin are the color of pure snow, making the pink flush of her cheeks pop.
Small wrinkles pull up at the corner of her eyes and her mouth, the only signs of her advanced age.
“Well aren’t you both a sight for sore eyes!” she exclaims, passing off the tray to the young man trailing behind her and wiping her hands on her apron. “Mikel, deliver these and then fetch some hot mead for our guests here.”
With a nod, the young man takes the tray and disappears to deliver the bowls.
“This storm is serious business and my old back tells me it's only going to get worse tonight. Always flares up when something bad is a’brewing, I tell ya. The name’s Mae and this is my place.”
“Hello, Mae. I’m—”
“You need no introduction here, sweets.”
Mae dips her head in a curt bow and I instinctively scan my eyes to see if anyone around her has noticed.
The patrons, as far as I can see, are still thankfully engrossed in their cups.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Murphy quietly surveying the filled tables surrounding us.
His lips move silently as if counting the number of patrons filling the tiny space.
Mae’s eyes narrow as she studies me and the captain from head to toe before shaking her head with a sigh, clearly disappointed by whatever she was hoping to find.
“I wish I could offer better accommodations for m’lady, but the storm tends to draw travelers in who would normally stay in the woods.”
It’s my turn to be disappointed. Pain picks the back of my eyes and I know they’ll be no beating the princess allegations if I cry over not having a dry bed beside a warm fire. Today has left me near exhaustion and I credit that for my lapse in decorum.
Before I can reply, the matronly woman extracts a single brass key from her apron pocket. “I’ve only got one room and it’s nowhere near what you’re used to, I’m afraid.”
My hand is on the key before the weight of her words settle in. This has to be a joke.