Time Shards Page 12

  Yep, classic Sinoper Nonagon Yaw.

  She visualized all three shapes at the same time, a mental feat that gave her a disproportionate feeling of satisfaction. She let the image hang there a little longer, until the hatch suddenly made a sharp clack—the noise so loud Amber jumped back with a shriek of surprise.

  The three shapes scattered. She couldn’t remember any of them now, not exactly. But that had ceased to matter. The hatch was sinking. When it had dropped about half a foot, the whole thing halted with another clack and slid away into a recess. Through the opening she saw a stone ramp that angled down into blackness.

  What just happened?

  Amber peered down the ramp. It was pretty dark down there.

  “Anybody home?” she said. “Hello?”

  No answer.

  She was surprised to find herself already walking down the incline.

  Jeez, I’m brave today. Then again, maybe this was just a dream, so what did she have to lose?

  The ramp led down in a narrow corridor, barely illuminated by a series of tiny pale blue florescent lights. For a moment she just stared at them, stunned to see electricity again. The air felt surprisingly warm, and Amber pulled off her wrap of blankets, then her coat, as well. She left them on the floor and continued down the ramp.

  Below was a small, low-ceilinged chamber, carved out of the same stone as the hatch and ramp. It was dimly lit and empty except for one thing—a black hexagonal pillar.

  Or was it nonagonal?

  Nonagonal? What the hell is nonagonal?

  The pillar was about two feet wide in the middle and tapered to a tiny flat hexagon at either end. It seemed to be humming, though that made no sense, Amber realized, since it wasn’t making any sound. It was suspended in midair, without any visible means of support.

  On a whim she set her staff against the wall and took a few steps closer. As she did so, the object slowly began to spin. She moved closer still, even while a small part of her was thinking moth to the flame.

  The spinning, humming, floating object began to generate a trace of incandescence from deep within. The glow began as faint gossamer veins of flickering lightning, and slowly spread throughout, gathering strength and brightness.

  It’s so beautiful.

  Amber wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch it.

  So she did.

  17

  Abruptly Amber awoke, surprised to find herself upright and walking in the afternoon sun, moving at a steady, unhurried pace. The sky was surprisingly clear, though here and there on the horizon there were piles of clouds, some of them dark and ominous. She stopped, disoriented, though not so much alarmed as startled.

  Where am I?

  She looked around. Though there was still a bite to the wind, it was warmer now. She stood in the middle of an open meadow, lots of coarse grass interspersed with pinkish-purple heather and yellow gorse. There was a standing grove of silver birch up on a rise a short distance away. The air smelled clean and fragrant. It looked… peaceful. No slavering wolves in sight. But…

  How did I get here? Her eyes went wide. Have I been sleepwalking? Holy crap, how long have I been sleepwalking?

  There was a fleeting memory of something she couldn’t quite recall. She felt the tickle in her mind, though, as if she had just awakened from one of those vivid, amazing dreams, only to have it vanish like a handful of fleeing butterflies. She had a flash… of a smell of ashes, of dancing geometric shapes, and a trapdoor?

  A cave?

  Nope.

  Gone.

  Focusing, she shut her eyes tightly, but it was no use, she just couldn’t bring it back. The last thing she remembered was trekking through the seemingly endless expanse of snow-covered land, shivering even under her coat and blankets.

  Speaking of…

  Where are they?

  Her head jerked right, then left, scanning the ground. Nothing. She still had Gavin’s Han Solo jacket over her Codex garb, her backpack in place, but no coat. No blankets. Surely she wouldn’t have taken them off? Even where there wasn’t snow or frost, the temperature still felt like an icebox. She looked back in the direction she thought she’d come from. No sign of anything lying discarded on the grass.

  That’s just weird.

  A gust of wind whistled through the trees, rustling the grass and flowers. Amber lifted her face and let the chilly air caress her cheeks, bringing her back to reality. She should be panicked, she knew, at the loss of her only sources of warmth. Yet for the moment it didn’t seem terribly important. She wasn’t cold. In fact, checking in with herself… she felt fine. All her assorted aches and pains that had seemingly settled in for a long visit— like irritating relatives over the holidays—no longer bothered her very much.

  Which actually bothered her a little.

  She also felt oddly rested, though she sure as hell didn’t remember sleeping since she left Blake, and very much doubted there was any place around that would have afforded her the opportunity. And yet, she felt strangely energized, as though she had gotten ahold of a big cup of coffee and was bouncing off the caffeine.

  However she’d gotten to wherever she was now, she gave a silent thanks that she made it there safely. Sleepwalking in this nightmare world could prove fatal. She didn’t believe in angels, but it sure felt like something—or someone—had to have been watching over her.

  Or someone. That bothered her, that some unknown person might have been involved. The memory gap should have felt alarming… but rather than dwell upon something she couldn’t do anything about, Amber decided to keep moving. The sun was low to the horizon, and the most important thing was to find some sort of shelter.

  Picking up the pace, she constantly scanned the landscape in front of her. Then, as the shadows began to lengthen, she came to a stop again. At her feet was a sight that offered new hope.

  A trail. An actual man-made trail with human footprints, several sets of them.

  Staff in hand, Amber changed direction and set off up the well-trodden path, through the grass and up the slope.

  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 o
ut 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.”

  19

  Cam seemed afraid to go back the direction he came, so Amber followed him along a different route than either of them had been following. She felt at ease with him in a way she hadn’t with Blake. It was strange. Even with the language barrier, she felt she could trust him. He seemed genuine—and he hadn’t killed her when he’d had the chance.

  Am I being an idiot? she wondered. Just trading one lunatic for another? The more she thought about it, though, the less that seemed likely. For now, she figured she’d go with her instincts, and hope they didn’t get her throat cut.

  She used her flashlight to illuminate their way as they walked. Its steady blue-white light amazed him. He flinched when she pointed the ray of light near him, so she ran her hand through it to show him it was harmless. After a moment Cam tentatively put his hand through the beam, laughing in relief when it didn’t turn him into a toad, or carve him up like a lightsaber.

  Eventually they came to an overhang on the ridge. Moss coated the rock on the underside, which formed a natural hollow that offered protection from the chill wind. Cam spread his cloak out on the bracken, and Amber pulled out her two blankets. The two lay close to each other, not quite touching, and Amber almost immediately fell asleep.

  * * *

  Cam lay awake, listening to the slow, rhythmic sound of the woman’s… Amber’s… breathing. He marveled at her. For a goddess she was curiously vuln
erable and shy, and yet had amazing magical powers. Truth be told, he was no longer sure she was a goddess, though that didn’t make her any less wondrous. Her hair the color of banked fire.

  That shy smile…

  Those green eyes.

  He shook his head. She had to be of Sídhe blood, though thankfully she seemed free of the capricious malice the fair folk often possessed. Perhaps she was a druid princess from the Isle of Mona, or a lost nymph spirit.

  She rolled over and curled up against him. Cam stiffened at first, then tried to relax as he realized she was still asleep, unconsciously seeking the warmth of his body like a child burrowing against its mother.

  Surely the goddesses above would know he meant her no disrespect, and was not taking advantage of her. In his heart, he knew it too. He also knew he’d be a liar if he tried to pretend he didn’t like the feeling of her curves against him, yet he did his best to squash his body’s instinctual response.

  Cam vowed to himself and all the gods that he would protect her, even as he drifted off into slumber.

  * * *

  No sooner had her eyes closed than Amber opened them again. She found herself in a beautiful Victorian library. Fine rosewood shelves lined with rare and precious leather-bound books ran from floor to ceiling, bracketed by Corinthian columns. Warm sunshine bathed the room through expansive skylights, while leaded-glass windows looked out on the grounds of an immaculate landscaped garden that stretched for miles.

  Chamber music played softly.

  Clad in an elegant Regency dress and sporting a parasol, she wandered past the shelves, admiring all the fabulous books. But she wasn’t walking. Instead she was sitting, prim and proper, back once again in the punt, which— although split perfectly in half through the middle—still floated placidly down the library’s plush carpet.

  Gavin stood there, picnic basket in hand. Amber smiled, happy to see him.

  “Might as well enjoy the moment, don’t you think?” he said with that cheeky grin of his. The half-punt continued past, and he waved to her as she went by. Amber turned in her seat.