Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

I dressed with care. After I politely declined a fresh change of clothes, my clothing had been cleaned, thanks to Scota’s thoughtfulness.

As I pulled on my leather pants, tying the strands at the waist, I remembered how Velloc had left part of my outfit for me that first morning in his village. I fastened the same bikini top, recalling every time he deftly removed the scrap of material with a pull of his fingers and a smirk on his face.

With a duck of my head, I slung the bow and quiver of arrows over my back. I squatted and strapped my ax to my ankle. I rose up and adjusted the scabbard hanging on my left hip. My fur, fastened by a jewel-encrusted, golden torque gifted from Scota, draped over my left shoulder.

The women surrounded me as we walked together toward the sea. We passed by a line of Caereni tribesmen who fanned along the entire edge of the cliff as far as I could see.

Sennian, Drust, and many elder tribesmen joined the procession as we made our way down to the beach. We descended winding steps that had been cut into the earth and fortified with stone.

A small crescent of golden beach lined a bay that calmed the power of the ocean’s waves. An enormous funeral pyre built upon buoyant logs gently rose and fell with the lapping of the water. Velloc’s body lay in peaceful repose at the top.

I walked to the edge of the structure, kissed my fingers, and placed them briefly on his cold, blue lips. My hand dropped to my side, gripping the hilt of the sword he’d lovingly trained me on.

“Velloc, I love you. Beyond this world, wherever you are, our bond remains. You are forever a part of me. I’m who I am today because of you. You not only helped shape the woman, you created the warrior.”

Tears filled my eyes. I took a deep breath, willing the waterworks away. They’d been shed all day. I’d cried for hours until the dead sleep of exhaustion had claimed me. But the short time I’d had for mourning had come and gone.

Only a whisper made it past my cramped throat. “I know you’re still with me, watching. Your best warrior?” I smiled, cherishing the reminder. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

With a sharp nod, I stepped back. Drust motioned to the elders as Sennian moved to my side.

The men unfastened the rope anchoring the vessel to a metal stake and tossed it onto the pyre’s wooden base. With two men on either side, they pushed the craft out into the water, wading up to their thighs as they guided it out. On a count together, they gave a final shove and the monument to a great leader, tribute to a courageous warrior, the last earthly remains of the man himself was set to sea toward the east at nearly the exact moment the sun set to the west.

The flames of a fire blazed on the beach to my far right. An archer lit an arrow and held it midshaft in his fist, thrusting it high in the air. The ridgeline rippled with motion; in a rapid wave, lighted arrows illuminated the edge of the curving cliff.

I looked forward again. Our archer’s arrow had been nocked and drawn. He glanced at me out of respect, and I nodded.

His arrow flew, straight and true, into the base of the structure. Pitch must have sealed the joints between the wood, because the entire vessel ignited into a raging firestorm within seconds.

A volley of flaming arrows followed. Brilliant orange points of fire arched over us and landed into the waves, snuffed out by the cold water. The North Sea’s current stole away the blazing inferno, pulling it toward the horizon line and out of sight toward the south.

Velloc’s body may have left, but I felt him.

With each heartbeat and every breath, I would forever remember how he was instrumental in shaping the strong person that I’d become. Velloc had become a permanent part of me—a true soul mate that transcended the physical world.

I took a fortifying breath and turned, climbing the stone-lined steps alone. I walked through the heart of Drust’s village with a steeled mind, stray villagers I passed becoming part of the landscape.

On a singular mission, I’d dressed to pay my respects to a warrior who gave his life for me in his world. I’d armed myself, intending to save the life of a warrior in another.

I didn’t need to remember my way back to the shrine Drust had erected to house the artifact as cherished by his people as it was by me, The Traveler. The relic had tied itself to me in such a way, I felt as if I had an internal GPS to the damn thing. By the time I stepped into the small, circular structure, it vibrated with incredible intensity.

I had no misgivings about leaving the world of the Picts without saying goodbye. Although I’d been accepted as one of them by the Caereni tribe, by Drust and the Lugi , and by Dotán and Scota and other friends I’d made along the way . . . I didn’t belong here any longer.

My heart had left the Pict world the moment Velloc’s stopped beating. I now belonged in Iain’s world.

In many ways, I belonged in no world . . .

As I lowered a steady hand onto the box that had governed my fate with two men in three worlds over the span of two thousand years, a newborn strength stretched its legs within me like a deadly jungle cat roused from a long nap . . . hungry and ready for the hunt.

A slow smirk curled my lips. “ I belong to time itself. ”

I slammed my hand down hard, connecting the circuit, sending me home.

I landed on braced feet in Iain’s shadow-filled, thirteenth-century study. On the next heartbeat, I whirled back around and barged into the cloudy dimension of angels and visions. A warrior on a mission, I intended to pack my arsenal with every weapon known to man . . . and then some.

I shouted into the misty ether. “Sunshine! Where the hell are you?”

White crystalline particles floated around me as I marched forward. I stopped, my biceps and thighs tensing, my chest heaving. With determination, I lowered my head, closing my eyes.

Power in all the soft-and-fluffy worked off of the whole your-wish-your-command concept. I visualized the larger-than-life form of Skorpius: black wings, raven hair, strong jaw, dazzling blue-green eyes, and just the right amount of attitude.

A menacing presence raised the hair on the back of my neck. I stood my ground, leaving my back to an entity that could obliterate me from existence with one bored exhalation. I knew it. He knew I knew it. No need to discuss the obvious.

Perfect. I smiled. The kind of control I wielded continued to amaze me. “Well, well. Think of a sugar-frosted Cupcake and one magically appears. I conjured you straight from my mind.”

An intrusive pressure pushed into my mind, Sunshine’s low voice echoing as if he’d uttered the words from his lips. “ Imagine that . . . ”

I gasped, chills racing down my spine.

Low laughter boomed bass tones into my body. “And ‘hell’? Isn’t that rather oxymoronic?”

Irritated at his amusement, I crossed my arms, jutting my left hip out. My short sword swayed with the movement. “Whatever, Sunshine. Look, much as I’d love to spar words, I don’t have time for pleasantries. I have a man to save.”

A snort parted the loose hair on my nape. “Go on. I’m listening.”

I turned and leaned forward, glaring straight up at the creature as his darkness towered over me. With a rod of a finger forged straight from the steel of my spine, I poked hard into the center of his sternum. “ You . . . are going to help me.”

Another snort fanned hot air across my cheeks. His sparkling, faceted eyes narrowed, taking true measure of my worth. With a click, he set his jaw as he seemed to swallow my attitude.