Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

He stopped before me. Silver eyes bored into mine. “You will tell me these things.”

The paradox of an unbelievably difficult position settled into my very lucid thoughts. I hadn’t expected a pop quiz, but a photographic memory only helped if I could provide them with pertinent facts. Unfortunately, the Roman’s accounting of the engagement was, at the very least, completely biased. Plus, providing what little known facts I had—as history purported them—could skew events in favor of the Picts to disastrous, history-changing proportions. Even if the Romans claimed victory only on paper, they survived and returned in numbers large enough to have Rome believe their accounting.

On the other hand, how did I know historical record hadn’t already included my influence? My situation left me no way to confirm whether disclosure would change the layout of time, or if my mere existence in the worlds I’d visited already had. Serious brain cramp and a dose of anxiety stopped my fruitless suppositions.

I looked up at Drust. “I’ll tell you all I can, which is more than you know. My accounting of Roman records will give you the edge you seek. However, I’ll do so only after you share the information we want.”

Equal parts humor and respect lit up Drust’s features as his gaze danced from me to Velloc. The unexpected response made me tighten my lips down to prevent laughter from bursting out. Drust returned to his seat and shook his head, laughing.

“Velloc, you’ve a feisty woman there.”

Velloc smiled and placed his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently. “Yes, I do. Now you see why I want to please her. Trust me . . . she more than satisfies me.”

I clenched my teeth to stop my jaw from falling. Locker-room talk belonged elsewhere . . . like in a locker room.

Drust chortled. Then his face grew serious again. He appraised us with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw as if weighing his options.

I’d shown up to the chess game fully prepared to win. Not only had I shown bravery in standing up to the fearsome leader, I’d also used tactical leverage to get what I wanted.

In my carefully worded statement, I’d changed Drust from demanding my obedience into showing me the respect of a worthy adversary. I smiled. The battle he wanted to win on the field first mandated my win of our negotiations.

Drust smirked, arching a brow as he looked pointedly at me. “You’ll hear the story tonight.” Then he glanced at Velloc, “Whenever you find the box, I have no doubt you will return it to me.”

The man’s confidence in our actions irritated me . . . but also piqued my interest.

Over a thousand gathered in a natural amphitheater skirting their community. The grass-covered ground sloped upward, providing ample seating for those in attendance, which happened to be only a fraction of the entire tribe. From our patch of earth, fires still burning in the village allowed me to watch people moving between dwellings while we waited for their oral recitation of myth and legend to begin.

Velloc leaned in close to me, speaking low. “You were very brave today.”

I put my head on his shoulder, laughing softly. “Brave had nothing to do with my outburst. My anger got the better of me; I got stupid.”

He put his hand on the side of my head, smoothing my hair. Gentle lips kissed my forehead. “Sometimes our emotions rule us. How we handle the consequences . . . defines us.”

How profound. The man had the wisdom of several lifetimes. No wonder Velloc’s people had elevated him to their leader without hesitation. Great men are revered by those who seek their inspiration.

At the focal point of the earthen funnel where we sat, Drust stepped forward. A fire burned between where the chieftain stood and the audience awaiting his narrative.

I zeroed in on him, my breath catching. He stood commandingly tall, wearing a black cloak with a hood drawn over his head that hid his face. Before I got over my déjà vu, Drust began regaling the crowd. The acoustical topography projected his booming voice to everyone on the hillside as clearly as if he’d spoken through a megaphone.

“We are born of a people who have been graced by a god. On black wing he descended from the sky.” Drust flared the side of his cloak out, spinning hard to one side. “The creature spoke our language, understood our plight, and loved our tribe. His ancient form shifted to a human body bearing a great gift.” He turned hard, fanning out the other side of his cloak. “Our great leader took the metallic box from him and, with it, received infinite knowledge, fertility of the land and animals, and a love like he’d never known.”

The wind kicked up. Dark, churning storm clouds flashed spider-webbed lightning across a black backdrop above the ocean. A sudden downdraft extinguished the fire at his feet, and murmurs erupted around us with the sudden darkness.

The air had a cold bite that even my thick fur didn’t banish, and a violent shiver racked my body. Velloc leaned closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and I nestled into his side for warmth.

A blinding, fiery bolt struck from ground to sky directly from the fire pit, lighting it with renewed fury. The charge lasted only a few seconds, but in that brief time, I saw everything.

A second dark figure shimmered into existence. My eyes had difficulty focusing on its form. What appeared to be a black hooded cloak on its back lifted and stretched wider, like the wings of a bird. Its head turned, and a mane of midnight hair flew about the beautiful face of a man. He looked straight at me, his sparkling, iridescent eyes piercing my soul for the merest second. While I was captivated by those mesmerizing eyes, the man handed Drust a box . . . the box.

Had Drust known all along that the box would come back to him?

As the lightning flashed its last and brightest pulse, the apparition vanished along with the charge into the atmosphere. The collective gasp from Drust’s people gave good indication that storytime had never been so unique.

Blown didn’t even begin to describe my state of mind.

Modern-day scientists gave no literal credence to the gods of ancient mythology. Cultures spanning the globe—Greek, Roman, Scottish, Japanese, and Native American to name a few—paid homage to deities. Our analytical minds downgraded visits from their gods as spiritual representations rather than actual occurrences.

Shocked numb by my thoughts, I stared at the box Drust held in utter disbelief. There’d been no trap doors or hidden panels in the—now two—instances that I’d witnessed the guardian of the box disappear into thin air—David Copperfield had nothing on the phenomenon. Unless another explanation presented itself, the being flashing in and out of our world was either extraterrestrial, interdimensional, or a time traveler who’d already mastered his craft.

Drust recited their lineage beginning with how the box found a mate for their first leader. When that chieftain’s son came of age, a perfect match had been obtained for the son. On down the family tree he went, detailing battle successes and major events along the way. In the span of less than thirty minutes, I’d been given an auditory history lesson on their tribe.

He lifted the newly reclaimed artifact high into the air, bellowing deeply as his voice carried over the wind. “I am Drust, son of Bruide, born into this world from a woman whom our god had deemed worthy, and matched to a woman whose sons and daughters will bring our tribe great prosperity.” He lowered his arms, tucking the box into his side. “May tonight remind you all of our noble history, fill you with pride of our past, and grant you hope for our future.”