18
Cam ran on into the night until at last his aching legs gave out and he collapsed onto the cold wet heather, panting and out of breath. He rolled onto his back and granted himself the luxury of dying if it was his time to do so.
Yet no pursuing enemies stood over him. He lay still and listened for any sounds of the battle. Off in the distance he could still hear the faint rumbling.
There he remained, catching his breath and letting his heart settle down. He felt exhausted and more lost than ever. At least the constellations shining above him in the night sky were still familiar.
Raising a hand to the silver torc around his neck, he ran his fingertips along the ridges of its intricate coils. Before this unexpected journey, the necklace had given him strength and pride. Now, it only reminded him that his homeland and people had vanished and he was hopelessly lost in some strange nightmare land.
Cam sighed, and finally let his muscles relax.
At least I’m safe again, for now.
No sooner did he entertain the thought than a silent shape dove past him through the air, landing on a nearby patch of gorse—an owl pouncing on a vole. It startled him. To see an owl on the wing was an ill omen. A warning to be wary of evil sorcery close at hand.
He sat up, fully alert.
Just a few heartbeats later, he heard a soft rustle. The silhouette of a figure appeared, stalking along the crest of the heath above him. Carefully, quietly, Cam slipped the sword from his belt. He held the sword low at his side, reversing his grip until the blade faced down, concealed by his forearm so it wouldn’t make a telltale gleam in the moonlight before he had a chance to strike.
* * *
Amber trudged wearily along the ridge, her unexpected burst of energy pretty much fizzled out. She had to take care not to make a misstep and end up tumbling ass over teakettle into some ravine. She longed to stop and rest, find some shelter where she could stretch out and sleep even if only for a few hours, but she hadn’t found any place that felt safe enough from the things that wanted to eat her.
So she kept going, forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And soon I’ll be walking out the do-o-or…
She groaned inwardly.
Not that song again.
Amber shook her head in an attempt to clear it, but she was so very, very tired…
* * *
The figure on the ridge was searching for prey, and supremely confident, making no attempt at stealth. No doubt he was armed with one of the deadly handheld fire-weapons. Cam would only get one chance to kill him, if even that.
* * *
I need something to wake me up.
Amber stopped and shrugged off her backpack, digging into one of the side pockets where she found a roll of peppermint Life Savers that she’d bought before leaving San Diego. There were only two left, and the paper stuck to the candy as she tried to pry them apart. Frustrated, she gave a yank, only to have both Life Savers go flying onto the grass. The gleaming white candies vanished into the bushes below.
* * *
Like a panther, Cam kept low as he stalked silently, approaching at an angle toward his opponent’s flank. He drew as close as he dared before changing the grip on his sword. A single, swift chop to the neck would be best.
Andraste, guide my hand, he prayed silently.
He charged, blade out and swinging.
* * *
“Shit!”
Possibly the last Life Savers in the world, and now they were gone.
Rather than wasting the time digging for a flashlight, Amber flicked the switch on her staff. The orb lit up with its eerie green glow, quickly proving to be useless for searching in the grass.
But the cheap Halloween LED light was strong enough to reveal the man, charging toward her, sword raised.
Amber tried to scream, but could only stand there, frozen with fear.
* * *
An unnatural ball of sorcerous emerald light burst suddenly into life. Stricken with shock, Cam froze, his attack halted in mid-strike.
This was no alien warrior or sinister druid. Instead, before him stood a beautiful young woman in dazzling splendor. Jewels glittered on the circlet in her honey-red hair, on the delicate necklace about her throat, woven into the rich fabrics of her scarlet and gold bodice. Her shift was of white linen, the skirt short like that of the Roman goddess, Diana of the Hunt.
Is she a goddess?
No malevolence lurked in those soft eyes. No wrath, no cruelty, no seduction—only wonder and surprise. Her innocence and beauty struck him hard as a thunderbolt. To have been so discourteous to a feminine being of such noble bearing shamed him.
He dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
“I beg your forgiveness,” he said softly.
* * *
Amber stood shell-shocked. The attack was over before it began.
What the hell?
She stared at the barbarian warrior, now on his knees with his head down.
“Drog yew genev,” he said softly.
Amber’s first instinct was to turn and run away, but the rational part of her knew she could never outrun him. Besides, if he’d wanted to, he could have easily killed her just now. In fact, he almost did.
What changed his mind?
He remained kneeling before her until she started to get embarrassed. Whatever happened next, she realized, she would have to make the first move. She screwed up her courage, then gingerly reached out and touched him on the shoulder.
“Hey.”
He looked up, his eyes wide with… fear? She couldn’t tell.
Holy crap, he can’t be any older than me!
He had coal-black hair, and a fresh cut across one cheekbone. Everything about him seemed fierce, except for the look in his eyes. There were stories hiding in those eyes. He had been through a lot, just as much as she had. He had the eyes of a lost boy.
That was it.
He’s lost. Just like me.
Amber knelt beside him and smiled to put him at ease.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to bow or anything.” She doubted he could understand her words, but kept talking anyway, hoping her tone would get the message across. “I’m in the same boat as you. Lost and just trying to find my way home.”
It seemed to be working. He listened intently and then, when she’d finished, he replied in his language again.
“Gav dhymm, ny gonvedhav. Ple’th os ta trigys? A wodhes’ta kewsel Brydaineg?”
Amber shrugged and smiled.
He tried again.
“Loquerisne linguam Romani? Latinam?”
To her surprise, Amber picked up on a couple of familiar words.
“Oh! Roman! Latin! You can speak Latin?”
“Evax! Sic, paululum linguae Latinae dico!” A happy burst of more Latin followed. Amber struggled to remember any of what she’d learned in college, and drew a total blank. She held up her hands.
“Wait, wait, I’m so sorry, but I can’t speak Latin. No parley Roman, um, nolo habla Romano.”
He frowned in confusion.
“Oh, wait,” Amber said with sudden inspiration. “Expecto Patronum! Expelliarmus! Riddikulus! Horcrux!”
He held up his hands, laughing. “Eho, eho, nullo intellego! Nullo intellego!”
She began laughing as well. It felt amazingly good to be laughing again, as if some horrible crust of fear and sadness had covered her, and had cracked so that a little bit of happiness and relief came pouring out. The two of them sat there in the light of her scepter and let the simple joy of a stress-free moment roll over them, each one’s laughter making the other laugh even harder.
Finally it subsided. He smiled at her.
“Riddikulus.”
They burst into laughter all over again.
When she had to stop because her sides were aching, Amber wiped the tears from her eyes and composed herself.
“Okay, let’s try something else.” She patted her chest. “My name is—I am Amber. Amber. Understand?”
He nodded.
“Am-ber.”
Her eyes lit up.
“Yes! I’m Amber! That’s me! Now you.”
She poked him in his chest.
He seemed to understand. He patted his own chest.
“Ego sum Camtargarus Mab Cattus sum Trinovanti.”
He saw her confusion and tried again.
“Cam. Ego sum… Cam.”
She smiled shyly.
“Hi, Cam.”