Fire & Shadow - Forbidden Love

A Stranger

They rode out through the temple gates and down the winding side of the cliff to the village that lay beneath the temple, protected by its guards and the magic of the Sisters of Dancing Light. It was a dangerous world, and in Arenith magic was outlawed. Banned with the exception of Light. Poor harvests and a lack of work within the villages and towns meant that bandits roamed the woods, driven away from the pretence of civilization. But it wasn’t the bandits that Zhira worried about. It was the Champions that frightened her. An army split into a dozen different groups that roamed the country, unchallenged by the King, searching for magical deviants. For people who could practise magic, that wasn’t Light. And who was she? An abandoned orphan with nothing to her name. Nothing except a small crude necklace hung around her neck. A black stone with a hole through the centre, threaded with a piece of twine.

People like Zhira. Being discovered by the Champions would mean capture, torture and slavery in their homeland. Ships of people from Arenith were sent back every quarter to the Diamond City, ready to work the vast mines beneath the mountain it sat upon. The Temple was the only home that Zhira had ever known; she'd been abandoned at the gates as a baby. Reaching adulthood meant that she could have left, or joined the Sisters. Instead she’d done neither. She was a deviant with a fledgling ability to control Fire. Living beyond the temple wasn’t an option. Nor did she feel that she could join the Sisters of Light and devote herself to it.

They travelled in silence for the first day. Zhira looked back over her shoulder, back at the town, then up at the cliff and the temple perched on top of it. By night, they were deep within the forests of Arenith and the temple was long out of sight, and the smell of the sea had faded. Rhyode lit a fire, cooked them both a meal of mixed pottage, oats with some meat and fresh vegetables bought from the temple kitchens. She tried not to watch him, tried not to stare and fixed her gaze on the fire instead. Her fingers itching to call out to the power, one she’d never explored. A forbidden power that was always just out of reach. A part of herself that she must deny. Just as she should deny her attraction to the dark-haired stranger. Because for all that she’d known of Rhyode for the last two years, that’s what he was to her. A stranger.

It was probably the most inconvenient time to fall in love. Or lust, whatever it was. They ate without looking at each other, without speaking and she lay down on her side, curled up with her back to the man. Beneath the branches of a tree that she couldn’t see in the dark. She heard him moving around, light steps moving around the campfire as she closed her eyes tight and tried to ignore him. Sure that she could never sleep, not knowing that he was so close. But in the end she did sleep, and her heart ached for the home and the friends she had left behind.

It was a fitful, restless sleep on cold, hard ground and she woke when the first rays of light touched her. The world was filled with layers of autumnal colour, and Zhira lay on leaves of copper, geranium, magenta, burgundy and cerise. The leaves still attached to the tree were in the midst of transformation. With slow stiff movements, she sat up, pulling off the leaves that had fallen on her during the night. Her eyes and throat itched, her clothes were damp through and she was chilled to the core. She could smell the forest pine mingled with the waxier scent of the tree she’d sheltered under.

Poking through the pile of cast-off foliage were stalks of lush grass and a plant with purple and maroon berries that twined around the base of all the trees she could see, linking them together. She pulled her cloak around to inspect it, realising that she’d lain on the vine all night. Her bed roll pushed off to the side. She found berry stains mottling the grey cloth like a bruise and felt a rueful smile pulling at her mouth. Perhaps it was an improvement. She’d never liked the colour grey anyway. And grey was the only colour that a woman raised in the Temple could ever wear. Unless they took their Vows to the Spirit of Light and became a Sister. Then they wore white.

She could hear the river in the distance and the trees rustling above her head, shaking final drops of dew from their branches. Gradually she became aware of another sound: crackling and spitting, then a louder pop. She sniffed the air, purposefully, drawing it in, but could smell no smoke. The forest scent kept its secrets. Dread wrapped around her like a cloak. She wasn’t alone and would have to face Rhyode again, for another silent day. How could they travel like this? How could she break the silence? What could she say?

Please, Zhira sent her silent plea to the Spirits. Someone tell me what to say to him? Zhira emerged from her shield of foliage with caution. She moved with forced calm to keep her steps soundless. The forest was thick with trees, but ahead was a glade, bordered on the far side by the river. In the centre of the glade was a fire that licked tamely against the rocks that circled it. A small, steaming pot was balanced on the embers. Behind it, and all its inviting warmth, Rhyode was sitting on a log. Two horses grazed peacefully behind him.

When his gaze locked with hers, his expression was unmistakable; he had been waiting for her. The same expression on his face, as the first time that she’d met him. Only this time it didn’t vanish instantly. Didn’t leave her questioning whether she had imagined it.

This definitely wasn’t how she should have fallen in love. But it hit with the force of a kick to the chest. Some pull, some invisible connection to the man who had been waiting. She looked down at herself, her berry-stained and very simple grey dress. Featureless brown hair and a pair of grey eyes.

Involuntarily she found herself moving towards him, drawn forward by an unblinking stare. It’s just because of the fire. I want to get warm. She lied to herself. She had woken to a world of myriad colours, but he wore black. His clothes looked like they were made from more expensive cloth than any of Fraelyn’s, the head of the Temple. Mother to all who lived within the walls. But letting herself study him, Zhira could see the cuffs were fraying on his shirt. Such clothes should have set him apart from the world, being outside of the forest, but despite his choice of clothing, she couldn’t ignore the sense that he belonged here. More than he had ever belonged in the Temple. Maybe it was the way he sat, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled back to his elbows that rested on his knees? He leaned forward, watching her intently as she approached. She felt his gaze appraise her and she bridled: who was watching whom?

His face was, just that, a face. Nondescript, with all the features well formed and ordinary. In different surroundings she might not have seen him at all. Would she pick him out of a crowd? She hesitated, staring over the fire pit at him. This was madness, and she should say something, anything, but warmth washed over her and she felt the chill starting to slink out of her bones. Rhyode stood up. He was nearly three hand spans taller than she was, and neither thin nor muscular. As always, she struggled to class him in a mental category with any other man she had met. To pinpoint her ridiculous attraction to him. Of course, she hadn’t met many men. He didn’t look much older than she was, more than twenty but not yet in his thirties. He unnerved her. She pushed her attraction aside. He would always be a stranger. He was dangerous.

Silence stretched out between them. A roaring absence. Finally, Zhira couldn’t stand it any more. Folding her arms over her chest, she lifted her chin with tenacity at war with her worry.

‘I don’t know who you are.’ Her words tumbled out. ‘I don’t want to travel with you, no matter what Fraelyn decided.’

‘You know that they call me Rhyode.’ His voice was soft, low, as though he were talking to an animal and feared it would spook. She found that irritating. But he moved forward, circling the fire as he held her gaze. ‘You know that I’ll protect you.’

Her throat felt tight, lungs constricted as he slowly closed the distance between them. Expecting him to stop at any moment. But he didn't. He walked straight up to her, gaze locked upon her face. She gasped, forced to lean back to meet his eye or take a step back, and she wasn’t going to back down. She wasn’t going to be afraid of this man. They were going to settle this stupid tension once and for all, otherwise the journey to the Spire was going to be unbearable.

But he bent and she was held by the depth of his eyes. They were black, not brown as she’d always assumed. She pulled in a breath that didn’t fill her lungs as he cupped his hands around her face, thumbs gentle against her cheeks. He held her in place and lowered his mouth to hers, his breath whispering across her lips. He defied all sense and proprietary and kissed her.