The Bard of Faith Part 6

Lacey awoke with a light whispered coming from somewhere in the night. They had traveled a few days with nothing attacking them or no more demons coming forth. They rested, but the rest was still uneasy, the lingering effect of seeing the demon still followed them like a hungry house cat. The nights became harder to sleep because the fear seems to grow even more when the sun was down, but on this night something else woke Lacey.

                She looked around hearing the voices but unable to make them out. She sat up slowly seeing Ariana was still fast asleep, but Raven was up and missing. She got to her feet following the voices a few yards from the camp to find Raven talking to his sword.

                The sword was talking back to him. The voice was low and hard somewhat sounded like Raven’s voice just a little older.

                Lacey stepped forward with the words coming to a crashing haul. Raven looked back at Lacey who was smiling and looking down at her boots.

                Raven sight standing up and putting away his sword. “Sorry, if I woke you,” he said.

                “No, it is fine,” Lacey said looking up at him.

                “Would you like to join me?” He asked pointing to the ground beside him.

                “If you don’t mind,” the Bard said.

                “Not at all,” Raven said with a grin.

                Lacey walked up beside him and found a seat on the earth’s floor. He joined her staring out into the night not saying a word.

                “Is your father’s soul really in the blade?” Lacey asked a few moments later.

                “Yes, it is,” Raven said. “Ariana told you about it, huh?”

                “As much as she knows about it,” Lacey said staring at the hilt of the sword.

                “She does like to talk about it,” Raven said.

                “She wants to know how it happened,” Lacey said, “but you won’t tell her.”

                “No, need too,” Raven said. “It happened, and nothing will change it.”

                “But how did it happen?” Lacey asked.

                “Sorry, my friend,” Raven said. “If I won’t tell Ariana about it. I am not going to tell you about it.”

                “Why?” Lacey asked. “Why keep the story to yourself?”

                “Because it is my story,” Raven told her, “and it is a story I want to keep with me.”

                “But stories are meant to be told,” The Bard said. “It is their nature to heard by others. After that what makes them stories.”

                “That sounds like something a Bard would say,” Raven said with a smirk. “But not this story. This story is mine and mine alone.”

                “Some stories are too painful to tell,” Lacey said looking down at her boots.

                “That is the truth,” Raven said with a nod looking at the sword.

                “One day,” Lacey said looking back up at him, “promise me you’ll tell Ariana the story.”

                “Why her?” Raven asked looking back at the sleeping thief.

                “Because she wants to know, and it will be the true moment in which you trust her,” Lacey said hiding the real fact from him. Either one of them knew how much of their own hearts were growing for each other, but Lacey could see the seeds started to come forth.

                Raven huffed at the word trust like it was an annoying fly in his eyes.

                “I know trust can be hard,” The Bard said. “I know, it better than anyone but where there is faith, there must be trust as well.”

                “I fear I have little, my friend,” Raven said with a cold hard tone.

                “A little better than none,” she said. “The AllFather can still work with a little. After all, it got you here helping me.”

                Raven looked over at her not sure what to say but the words hung in his eyes. Yes, he might be here with her now, but he wasn’t sure he trusted the fact. The dream in which the angels of the AllFather told him to follow her and help her, could still be a spell of some kind. He wasn’t sure he could trust her and yet, with her sitting beside him the trust started to grow between them. There was something warm, friendly, and overall loving about the Bard where Raven couldn’t walk away from it.

                All he could think to call it was friendship.

                A friendship which said in a low bow, I’ll never leave you, and I’ll never forget you.

                It was the truest form of the word Raven has ever felt, and he didn’t question its integrity. In fact, if he dared to let himself, trusted it.

                All this in one simple look Lacey saw within his eyes. She could always see other squirrels better than her own. Her emotion locked deep with her fur, where lost when they tried to step forward, which might be why all her stories and songs were about others and not herself.

                “Are you from Wellstone, right?” Raven asked.

                “I’m from the outside of Wellstone,” Lacey said, “but for the most part yes.”

                “What town are you from then?” The Knight asked, but something moved in the dark, and they both jumped to their feet. Raven’s paw was on the hilt of his sword studying the deepening night before them. Something was out there, and they could feel it.

                 Either one of them move or what felt like breath into the air fearful it might call the foe toward them. The thing moved once more they both hear it far off and couldn’t tell if it was growing closer or not. After a long more of stillness, whatever was the dark had faded from their ears, and they both let out a sigh of reflex.

                “Let’s get back to the camp,” Raven said.

                “Agree,” Lacey said and both turn on their heels right in time to see a shouting ghostly face jump out at them. The rage in the face made them shot back from the utter hatred burning within. Lacey screamed out at the sight of the face but not before the face ordering them, “Do not come here.”

                The face was gone as quickly as it came, and Raven found himself with his sword out ready to fight the ghost. He glanced behind him to see the Bard holding on to his cloak shaking from fright.

                “It’s gone,” Raven said unsure of his words. “It’s gone.”

Author's Note

I’ll try to make this short for the both of us, but I feel, I need to add a little context to my stories on here. All the stories I post on this website are what I call “break stories.” They are either stories I go to when I get stuck in long from novel or stories, I write to explore a world. So, what does this mean? It means I enjoy these stories, but I don’t put everything into them. So, why am I posting them? A fair question and the reason I’m posting my stories on this website is to have fun, to show you my growth but most of all to give you a little taste of the worlds I work in. What does this mean for you? It means you can judge the work as you wish and by all means help me with plot, characters, and building the world, but I ask you to ignore grammar problems as best as you can and the style in which these stories are written. My page on here is my sketchbook and you guys get to see all the rough, nasty parts of my writing.