6

Cam groaned. His eyelids fluttered, once, twice, and cracked open. There was nothing to see but green-tinged haze.

How long have I been here?

He thought about wiggling his fingers, then realized one arm was stretched out and the other twisted at an awkward angle beneath him. He untangled himself and tried to rise up on his elbows.

That was a mistake. The dragon’s foot had come down and crushed Cam’s skull like an eggshell, smearing its contents in a messy streak along the ground. Surely that was the only explanation he could conceive for the pain he now felt.

Kych-an-broc…

He clutched his head and groaned again. To his surprise, his skull was perfectly intact, yet somehow unseen chariot wheels were rolling back and forth over it, and he could see the fairies again. Jangled memories flittered off like moon-moths, and he couldn’t think straight. He had to stack his thoughts one painful word at a time, like piling stones on a cairn.

Where am I?

What happened?

The woods…

He had been in the woods—a strange sort of woods— and someone had been chasing him… Slowly his vision cleared, and he saw he was splayed out in a patch of fern. Huge fern. But why? A loud bellowing echoed from nearby, and the sound quickly shepherded back all his meandering thoughts in vivid flashes of memory.

The Leagean.

Kentan.

The Catuvellauni.

The dragon!

The punch-drunk spell instantly sobered, and he swiftly ducked his head back down into the undergrowth, then peered out to spy where the beast was now. He rose to a crouch and cautiously parted the ferns to take a look. Nothing was moving but the scurrying lizards and flying insects. The dragon’s thrashing had stamped out a new clearing at the water’s edge. The rich red ground was pockmarked with its clawed footprints, all filled with dark pools of the scouts’ blood. Tattered bits of their gory remains lay scattered about.

Cam stood, silent and watching, poised to sprint or fight. The tracks led off into the deep pool that had blocked his escape. It still rippled from the beast’s passage. He remained still, listening carefully as, somewhere in the distance, a bellowing roar sounded the dragon’s departure.

Only then did he move on.

* * *

Directions were capricious and treacherous things here in this strange and murky realm of the Sídhe folk. Cam swatted away another unduly large insect that buzzed around his head as he slogged further through the swampy Otherworld.

He had been sure he would have come upon some fabulous palace or ring-fortress before now. His plan was simple. He would stand before the fey lords and ladies, behaving most courteously, and get their help. He bit his lip in determination, trying to think of the right words to say.

“My lords and ladies of the fair folk,” he practiced aloud, “I beg your forgiveness and grace, and do come before you in all humility and in great and desperate need. I… I would not dare…”

What was it the nobles would say? The words came to him.

“I would not dare trespass against your custom or your realm, nor intrude upon the peace of your court. Yet so urgent is my mission and dire our circumstance, I but ask your aid to bring me swiftly back home.” He paused and mulled over his words, then continued. “Even now, our enemies, the Catuvellauni, have broken the peace and cross the Bright River to make war upon us. I must warn my people, my lords and ladies. Will you help me?”

Surely for a cause so noble they would grant him that small a favor. If the Sídhe could read the hearts of men, they would see that his was pure. Perhaps his plight would touch them, and they would grant him a magical horse whose enchanted hooves could cross many leagues with every step.

Or maybe they would see the muddy wool cape and the battered old short sword he had taken from the dead scouts, take pity on him, and replace them with a Sídhe-forged blade of steel and a shirt of glittering gold ring-mail.

His eyes lit up, picturing the sight of his return.

But… what if they refuse me and I’m trapped here forever?

The sudden thought terrified him. His brow furrowed as he came to a hard decision.

Whatever they demand of me, he thought, whatever they ask, I will do it. Even if it means I have to return after the battle and serve them for a hundred years. Even if it means remaining here forever.

He frowned as his bleak thoughts lost ground to a still darker one.

What if I never find the Sídhe at all?

What if their castles were hidden from mortal eyes by magic? The further he went, the more the twists and turns of the swampy woods gave him scant hope. Cam prayed he wasn’t just wandering in circles. Would he ever get out of this maze? Lost in thought, he didn’t notice what was in front of him until it struck him in the eyes.

The sun.

With a single step, Cam emerged from the dank fen into the light of day. Soft meadowlands stretched out before him, green and inviting, rich with wildflowers in yellows and violets. Even the leaden sky looked fair and warm. A flock of starlings twisted and dove overhead and flew away again.

He blinked at the sight for a few moments, before surprising himself with a single quick, unexpected laugh of sheer relief.

Have I returned home, just like that?

It looked like his own land, and yet…

He turned back to the dark forest behind him. Something was wrong. It was the way the otherworldly forest ended and the meadow began. At first he couldn’t sort it out. Then he realized there was no gradual tapering off of the trees—no meadow grasses growing between the trunks of tree ferns. Instead, there was a jagged line of division from one terrain to the next, like two scraps of cloth sewn together. Even the soil was a different shade on either side of the line.

The trees of the strange forest didn’t simply stop at the line. The division sliced through them, branches and trunks alike, as if a giant scythe had followed the cut of the line with perfect precision. It was unnatural and disquieting, but perhaps it was to be expected with the Sídhe.

Shrugging, he set off at a brisk pace, heading due east toward the interior of the Trinovantes’ lands. At the first fort or homestead he came to he would beg a horse, and ride like the wind to raise the alarm.