Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

Velloc released me. His quick, thorough hands skimmed my body, moving clothing aside, confirming I hadn’t been harmed. He pulled my pants up and fastened them. Suddenly exhausted, I rested my forehead on his broad chest, encased in his protective hold, just breathing.

His finger lifted my chin, forcing me to look up into eyes shadowed by deeply furrowed brows. “Isobel, did he . . . did they . . .”

My heavy blinks moistened eyes dry from a shock-filled stupor. I shook my head.

On a slow exhalation, I pressed trembling hands into Velloc’s lower back, clinging to him. Disturbing, gruesome images tortured my mind like a broken record, the scene replaying against my will. I’d killed a man— disemboweled him . Another died on me. The repulsive, metallic scent of blood mixed with other putrid odors assaulted my nostrils.

I spun around, gripping Velloc’s forearm, pulling us away from the stench of death. With deep breaths, I sucked in every cool, fresh lungful of air possible. He ran a hand up my arm, spreading his comforting touch across my shoulders. His quiet strength held me together like the binding of a book.

Without warning, I doubled over, dry heaving over a patch of barren ground at the base of a tree. My empty stomach clenched in protest. Velloc’s hands rubbed up and down the length of my back, his voice murmuring soothing, unintelligible words. After a few minutes, I stood again, leaning into his side, feeling a yellowed shade of green.

The sounds of horses nickering and snorting increased as his tribesmen came forward, leading our animals. I moved toward Malibu. Velloc pulled me back and lifted me up onto his horse instead. Through distant eyes, I looked down as someone handed him my cleaned weapon. He sheathed it in my scabbard before mounting his horse behind me. Exhausted and thankful for the reprieve, I closed my eyes and leaned back into his solid, warm chest.

Rapid movement jerked me awake. Velloc’s arms tensed around me, easing when I settled back into his hold. I absently watched the shadowed scenery blur by. We galloped the same way Talorcan and I had traveled. Velloc worked his horse forward through the group.

When we reached the front position, Velloc leaned away, speaking in low tones to Sennian, his second in command. Sennian nodded, and the commander changed our course to the left, separating the Caereni from the dozen or so other tribes.

Several hundred strong, we picked our way through densely woven forest, galloped across shallow streams, and traversed rocky terrain. The pace slowed as we climbed up a steep, rocky slope in a northerly direction.

Sennian halted, letting out a low whistle. Two scouts appeared on either side of us. They rode forward, one at a time, through the mouth of a narrow chasm, its sheer gray walls stretching up to the night sky. One of them returned.

“The passage is clear,” he said.

Our scout led the way. Velloc held his stallion back until dozens had funneled into the narrow opening. My breaths shortened as we entered. Walls ascended on either side until they vanished into darkness. The channel we squeezed through stretched eight feet across at its most-tapered point. Dead-calm air and the echoing hoofbeats added to the claustrophobic nightmare. Even the horses showed their anxiety, heads pulling back, tails swishing, muscles tensing. They hated the confinement as much as we did.

After what seemed like an hour, but likely only a tense fifteen minutes, we emerged from the natural bottleneck. The line of animals ahead of us wove through boulders half-buried in the grass-covered earth. I looked around at the moonlit scenery as we followed their lead.

The group meandered along the perimeter slope of the mountain until a small stream cut across our path. We changed direction to follow the flow, the snowmelt leading us down from the mountain to where it fed into a long, narrow loch. Sennian led us around the shoreline until an area opened up between the forest and the water large enough to accommodate our party.

Velloc dismounted and pulled me down into his arms. Numbness occupied the space between my ears as I let my man take charge.

Four men stayed mounted. They rode off in opposite directions, two to the west and two to the east, skirting the water’s edge. Safety remained a top priority, and the mood remained tense and alert.

While we waited for the patrols to return, others collected firewood, dropping gathered branches into a pile next to a sizable fire already taking shape. Minutes later, our security system returned, giving us a measure of peace for the moment. Then all four men took off again, presumably to stand guard at our flanks.

I stared out over the loch. The glassy surface appeared inky black, the setting moon behind us casting a shimmer over its peaceful surface. Churning happened beneath the calm, though. Outside tributaries secretly flowed beneath the vast watershed we’d traveled through. A shiver raced down my spine in response to a reaction that had nothing to do with the cold night temperature. Attentive to my needs, Velloc added his fur to the one already wrapped around my shoulders.

Rabbit, pheasant, and legs from what looked like several deer were brought out by the fire, skewered, and rotated on spits made from nearby branches. My mouth watered. Apples, pears, quinces, dates, and other exotic fruits were brought out and passed around; the raid had yielded more than stealing horses and winning a small battle against a large, advancing enemy.

I wriggled my hips between Velloc’s bent legs, nestling further back into his embrace. We sat on a gently sloping flat boulder as the men regaled each other with tales of the success they’d achieved only hours before. A sense of home and family surrounded me. Velloc tightened his hold, crossing his hands over my knees. I rested my cheek on his forearm, watching the orange tips of the flames snap into the air.

“Velloc, what brought you down to the Roman army?”

He nuzzled his lips against my ear, kissing it lightly. “A scout from a southern Pict tribe came to us, warning of the invaders coming north. We went down there to assess the situation, bringing most of our men. Larger tribes sent only part of their forces. Our combined group was only one of several raiding parties all across the enemy line. We attacked to ascertain their weaknesses before we regroup and return again. You call them . . . Roman?”

I nodded. “Yes. The Roman army comes from a land far away . . . over the ocean. They attempt to conquer the world.”

“Do they?” He asked the question harmlessly enough, but it reminded me of the secrets he knew about me . . . and how much more I knew about the world.

“No. But not for lack of trying, unfortunately.” I sighed at the great and destructive ego of man.

I reflected on the Battle of Mons Graupius and the questionable victory the Romans had claimed. History depended on who wrote the book. Tacitus had documented the event as a Roman victory with minimal losses on their side, yet they never occupied the Scottish Highlands. They erected a wall decades later, followed by a second wall. The barriers had separated the Highlands from what they did occupy—England and the Scottish lowlands.

“They bring as many as thirty thousand men.” I wanted him prepared. He needed to know the size of the force they faced.

Velloc’s muscles tensed at my news, and I turned in his arms. Dark, penetrating eyes questioned mine before he nodded. His gaze traveled to the ground in thought.

“All our tribes combined have more than that many men,” he commented.

“Would they unite like tonight?” I asked, even though I knew they had.

“Yes, to defend the land and protect our people, we would combine for a common cause.”