Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

My plea fell on indifferent ears. Nothing happened. A relic so eager to wreak havoc with my life had suddenly forsaken me.

The heavy feeling of failure crushed the air from my lungs. In one accidental move, I’d abandoned those that needed me—the very ones I’d vowed to protect.

I stumbled from the suffocating enclosure, unable to breathe. I crumpled to the ground, burying my fisted hands into the folds of the scarlet gown Iain had asked me to wear the day he left—the dress I should’ve been wearing in his time, not Velloc’s.

Salty tears streamed down my cheeks. I forced a shaky breath into my lungs, casting my face up toward a glittering night sky.

“Fine. I don’t have it all figured out, do I?” A loud sob followed by a hiccup racked my chest. “ Skorpius ? Orion ? God, if you’re even up there helping people instead of fucking with their lives . . . if any of you can hear me, if any of you care, please, just make them safe. And please . . .”—my voice fell to a whisper—“please, protect Iain.”

Another loud sob broke loose. My heart thudded heavy in my chest, deep ache burning a gaping hole into my ribcage. I couldn’t imagine any time where I existed and Iain didn’t. His convoluted explanation of time not being linear was no comfort in my perception-skewed reality, especially since I only had access to Iain under rules I didn’t understand.

The powers at work had made their decision, casting me back to an ancient Scotland. I wiped my face dry with the back of my sleeve and stood as I took stock of my situation. Velloc hadn’t expected me back for another five days, and we hadn’t discussed his plans in the meantime. Had he gone back to his village? Or had he remained with Drust and the box?

I wished for the latter, not relishing the idea of a long ride on horseback to find him again. The predawn hour under a moonless sky made finding the structure where we’d last been with Drust a blind adventure. However, I persisted and found the dwelling, sliding my hands along the roughhewn stones to locate the entrance without the aid of torchlight.

I stepped inside further darkness and decided a torch would’ve been a good idea. I hoped no other occupants slept in the bed besides Velloc. Weary apathy made me proceed without clear judgment as I removed my gown and chemise. I took a careful step, and my toes touched the edge of the pallet.

I gasped as an arm crushed around my ribcage. A hand encircled my throat, and fear shuddered through me. The bare skin of my assailant pressed against my naked backside. I swallowed, trying to calm my racing heart.

“Velloc?” I coughed, after forcing the word past the grip on my esophagus.

The choking hold eased. “ Isobel, ” Velloc whispered.

Strong arms spun me around, crushing me in his embrace. I slid my hands around his waist, holding him tight. I clung tightly to the solid evidence that, if I could count on nothing else in my twisted existence, at least I had a beloved constant in each world.

My only hope, wrapped in a pervasive layer of fear, was that I hadn’t made Velloc’s world my only world and inadvertently thrust those I loved—in the other—into harm’s way.

Highlands of Scotland—First Century AD

Stuck in the past in one respect didn’t mean I intended to remain there in another. After an entire day of attempting to return with a box gone completely lifeless, I accepted that a return may no longer be possible. Events unfolding between the tribes and the invading Romans accelerated a need to abandon futility and join reality. The Pict game plan about the impending war had been altered, and I either joined in the fight or remained an uninvolved observer.

My scarlet gown, chemise, and leather slippers had been neatly folded into a pile and placed on the floor in the back of the small shrine. I rested a hand on the cold relic responsible for all the upheaval in my life. In remembrance, I focused on all the joy I’d had: smiles and laughter, nights of incredible pleasure, and a mating ceremony uniting a clan with its destined laird and lady were images I burned into my mind.

I whispered, somehow certain if anyone on any plane of existence listened it would be heard, “Keep them safe. Bring Iain back to them.” Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over. On a deep breath, I reined in my overwhelming emotions. “And if anyone at all can hear me, please, let me go back.”

My selfish plea faded on a cutting burst of wind. I pulled the fur tighter around my body, nodding once, satisfied no more could be done with simple wishes cast about in an era when life and death hung heavy in the air.

The weight of a gentle hand landing on my shoulder reminded me of the urgency of our impending departure. I reached up, covering Velloc’s hand in mine.

“I’m ready.” I turned away from my one link to everything, resolving to return and try again.

I stepped into the gray day. A bitter-cold storm lashed her wrath onto a nation racing toward their enemy with a vengeance. The sea of warriors had made a mass exodus from north to south, collecting every able-bodied man along the way.

Velloc mounted his stallion as I jumped onto Malibu. I regarded the fearsome sight of my mate—broad shoulders and flowing black hair, additional woad tattoos marking his body and face, and those fierce, dark eyes. Velloc surveyed his tribe. Hundreds were mounted on horseback, but a handful rode in horse-drawn chariots.

From what Velloc had shared with me, most of Drust’s people had left over the course of the last few days, establishing themselves in the woodlands and marshes along the perimeter of the shoreline. The infiltration enabled us to both keep a watchful eye on the Romans and prepare to attack as our influx of warriors continued.

Velloc raised his right arm overhead. “ Caereni! We will show the Romans how they underestimate the people they’ve made their enemy.” Velloc yelled over a whipping wind, but all heard. Animal cries and shouts replied. Velloc kicked his horse and charged ahead. We bolted forward, following a great leader to meet the fight that had been brought to our doorstep.

Thundering hooves drowned out the overhead storm, clods of earth flying up at every strike. Adrenaline pumped hot through my veins as excitement charged the atmosphere. Images of the impending battle teased my thoughts as raw muscle flexed in fluid motion beneath me.

Our tribe of men galloped southward for nearly an hour. Gradually our progress slowed, hindered by the thickening forest. We wove through trees and scrub. I cut to the left, urging Malibu forward until we joined Velloc near the front of our group. He eased up on his reins and edged closer, gazing at me with penetrating eyes.

“This is the battle, then,” I said. “You’re taking the fight to the Romans before the harvest.”

He nodded once. “No enemy will claim victory over a people who refuse to give up the land. They are uninvited, making themselves comfortable in our home.” He flashed a wicked smile. “We will make it very uncomfortable .”

I laughed. “If you plan half the attack I witnessed on your scouting mission, I’ve no doubt they’ll think twice about crashing the party.”

Velloc stared at me until his lips pressed into a thin line, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I’d adapted the phrase to his dialect, but nothing escaped his quick wit. I laughed with him, enjoying the miniscule time we had to rebond before more serious matters took away the opportunity.