by P. C. Cast
Alex sighed and, not saying anything, went to help Caradoc stoke the fire and start breakfast. Sometimes, no matter how much she wished otherwise, she felt like she was one big walking lie.
“And you are quite certain my stolen medallion piece is that important?” Boudica asked Alex.
She nodded soberly, staying with the story of truths and evasions that she and Caradoc had concocted over breakfast.
“It holds the power of matriarchs,” Alex explained. And of course, indirectly, it did. Of the human race, only women were intuitive enough to threaten the Centaurians and serve as pilots if they could piece the medallion back together in time to join the galactic federation.
“It being missing from your torque makes the power incomplete.” Caradoc took up the thread of the story. “Blonwen’s mission is to retrieve the piece and return it to you, with the aid of Andraste.”
“I have to cleanse it and get the goddess’s blessing on the reunited piece, too, before you wear it again,” Alex added.
Then both she and Caradoc waited for Boudica’s ruling. As the druid had predicted, it didn’t take the queen long to make up her mind and grant their request.
“Yes, I will allow the two of you to stay behind so that Blonwen might use her gift as a Soul Speaker to locate the other medallion piece.” Boudica fingered the empty place in her torque as she spoke. “But do not tarry long. I need those close to the goddess by my side, and we will be riding fast and hard.”
The two bowed respectfully and hurried back to Caradoc’s campsite. They’d already set out a skin filled with mead and the lavender smudge stick he’d used the night before. In addition, there was a large, noisy chicken sitting beside the campfire in a woven reed cage.
Alex picked up the mead and, following directions Caradoc had explained to her earlier, lit the thick lavender wand and then wafted it around until it was smoking nicely. Then she gave the squawking chicken a leery sidelong glance. “Okay, we might as well get this over with.”
Caradoc picked up the chicken in the cage and walked beside her into the forest, the sweet scent of lavender smoke trailing in their wake. “Do not sound as if you are preparing to take on a terrible chore.” He smiled at her while they made their way to the stream and the rowan that rested beside it. “You have a great gift in your ability to speak with the dead. It will be an even greater gift when you are able to control it.”
“But I’m thirty-five and I haven’t been able to control it yet.”
Caradoc’s eyes widened in shock. “You have lived through thirty-five seasons?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Yes, almost.” She’d forgotten that he was a decade her junior. Okay, she hadn’t forgotten it the night before, when they were making love and his amazing body was rock hard and definitely twentysomething versus thirtysomething. But other than that he seemed so much older than what she would have normally labeled “a guy way too young.”
“But you do not look like—”
Alex put up her hand, stopping him from saying what she was sure would sound like a compliment, but would make her feel like an old hag. “Look, in my world older women have younger lovers. Often,” she said firmly. Okay, she’d never had a younger lover, but still.
His lips quirked up. “Interesting…”
Alex could feel her cheeks getting warm, and was actually almost glad when she caught sight of the delicate white flowers of the rowan tree. She and Caradoc crossed the stream and stood before the tree. He put down the cage, and took the full mead skin from Alex, setting it on a nearby rock. Then he nodded at her. “Now smudge me, and then yourself, just as we talked of before.”
Trying to quell her nerves, Alex began to wave the smoking lavender around Caradoc’s body, beginning at his feet, going up the front of his body, and continuing down his back.
“Now smudge yourself,” he told her. “Remember to breathe carefully—deep in breaths and deep out breaths. Pull the smoke into your body, and along with it the purifying and protective qualities of the herb.”
Alex followed his directions, enjoying the smell of the lavender and the quiet of the forest. When she was finished she ground out the smoking stick and placed it on the rock beside the mead.
“Stand close to the rowan, press your back to it. Think of the tree as your protection and your strength. It is your lifeline to the living earth, in which everything is ensouled.”
Alex moved over to the tree and leaned against it. The roughness of the bark felt good, reminding her of its age and strength. It seemed nothing could knock it over, nor break its power.
“You will use the goddess’s name to summon the spirit—one spirit,” Caradoc reiterated carefully. “Proclaim your position as Andraste’s priestess when you call the spirit forth. Concentrate your thoughts and the power of the tree on the spirit you summon. This time there will be no mistaking your intent.” The druid opened the cage and pulled out the squawking bird, pulling his knife from the sheath strapped to his waist. “This time there will also be a sacrifice as payment for the information you seek.”
Alex tried not to look at the chicken. “So none of them will think they can pull my spirit back to the Otherworld with them?”
“Exactly, love. That will never happen again. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said, more to convince herself than to reply to him.
“Then call forth the spirit you seek, Soul Speaker.”
Chapter 20
A lex blocked out her nervousness and fears and second thoughts. She lifted her chin and pressed her back, as well as her palms, against the ancient tree that stood like a silent sentential behind her.
“I am a Soul Speaker, and I need your help, ancient one.” As Caradoc had instructed her, and as her instincts had led her last time she’d attempted a soul calling, Alex looked to the rowan for the power to fuel her request.
The warmth began slowly, but built to a steady, thrumming tingle that reminded Alex of a heartbeat.
“With the might of this ancient tree, and in the name of the goddess, Andraste, I wish to call the spirit of one recently dead. The one I seek was the assistant to a cruel man. He was young and hardworking, and his name…” Alex paused, thinking back to the vision she’d witnessed. “His name was Flavius. Come to me, Flavius! In Andraste’s name I summon you!”
In front of her the air began to quiver, like heat rising from a blacktop road at midday. Then the mirage parted, as would a transparent curtain over a mystical stage, and the veil of reality opened, allowing one lost-looking young man to step through.
“Flavius?” Alex asked. But before he could respond, diaphanous figures of a crowd of spirits, some of whom Alex recognized as malevolent forces from the day before, began to shove through the opening behind him.
“Focus on Flavius and command the other spirits to depart,” Caradoc said in a low, intense voice.
Alex swallowed hard and, looking only at Flavius, said in a clear, loud voice, “No! I summoned only Flavius. I command the rest of you depart!” Oh, please help me, she silently asked the rowan.
Heat surged through her body and, following her instincts, with her back still pressed to the tree, she lifted her hands and thought about throwing the power that had been building within her out at the spirits. A wave of light the exact color of rowan flowers hit them, tumbling them backward and causing the curtain to the Otherworld to shimmer briefly and then close.
“Did they leave? Did the door to the Otherworld close?” Caradoc asked under his breath.
She nodded.
“Well done, love,” he murmured. “Now speak to Flavius and I will ready the sacrifice.”
“Flavius, I am Blonwen, Soul Speaker of Andraste,” Alex said.
The young man looked at her curiously and then shrugged. “What is it you want with me, Soul Speaker?”
“Were you assistant to the Roman tax collector, Catus?”
The ghost’s expression changed instantly. “Catus is an evil man. There are many in the Otherworld
who will be very glad to see him join them there.”
Although the spirit looked like a harmless guy, little older than a teenager, there was something in his ghostly eyes that made Alex shiver.
“Yes, I know about him. Actually, my question for you has to do with one of the terrible things he’s done. Do you remember the medallion piece he took from the Iceni queen, Boudica, when he ordered her beaten?”
Flavius nodded. “I do.”
“I need to get that medallion. Can you tell me where it is?”
“I cannot tell you where it is, but I can tell you who has it,” said Flavius.
“I would be grateful to know anything about it,” she told him.
“You will find it with the monster Suetonius.”
Alex’s blood chilled. “Suetonius? The Roman who led the attack on Mona?”
The spirit nodded. “He came to Londinium alone, without the might of his legions, because he thought to gloat over the destruction of Boudica by the small Ninth Legion. But when he realized the barbarians were too mighty and that Londinium would be destroyed, he escaped down the Watling Road, running to reunite with the army he’d allowed to stay behind and enjoy the spoils of Mona.”
Alex could feel Caradoc’s outrage at the spirit’s words, but she remained concentrated on Flavius. “How do you know he has the medallion piece?”
“He took it from Catus. I saw him. He and the tax collector spoke in passing as Suetonius was having his horse readied. When he noticed the medallion hanging around Catus’s fat neck, the governor flew into a rage.” Flavius smiled grimly in remembrance. “It was wonderful to witness. He slapped Catus with the back of his hand so hard that he fell to the floor. Then Suetonius took the medallion from him and hung it around his own neck, saying that he will decorate his himself with Boudica’s gold, just as he will decorate the grass of Briton with her blood.”
Alex breathed a long sigh of relief. It was bad that Seutonius had the medallion, but he must know that he, too, only had part of the prize—which meant he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he got his hands on the other piece.
“Thank you, Flavius. You have given me the information I needed,” she said, smiling at the young man.
Caradoc stepped forward, obviously following her gaze he walked close to where the spirit was standing. With one quick movement, he twisted the neck of the chicken and then slashed its throat, holding the twitching bird out so that its fresh, warm blood pooled in the moss at his feet.
“Take this blood as a show of the priestess’s appreciation for answering her call. When you return to the Otherworld, tell the spirits there that Andraste’s Soul Speaker wields the power of the earth. If any would come against her again, she will destroy them. But she does reward those loyal to her call.” Caradoc backed away from the pool of blood and whispered to Alex, “When he’s finished drinking, command him to return to the Otherworld with Andraste’s blessing.”
Alex nodded, and then watched in fascinated horror as the ghost fell to his knees and greedily drank the chicken’s blood. When he was done he lifted his face, staring around with scarlet-tinged eyes, as if he wanted more and more.
“Return to the Otherworld now!” Alex commanded. “And take with you my thanks and the blessing of Andraste.”
The reality veil opened behind him. Flavius reluctantly turned and, wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand, walked from one world to another.
Alex turned and pressed her cheek against the rowan. “Thank you so much,” she murmured to the ancient tree, and was rewarded with a surge of tingling warmth.
“You must drink the mead and reground yourself quickly, Blonwen.” Caradoc was there at her back, supporting her with a strong arm around her waist as he guided her over to the rock where they’d left the mead. She sat beside it, and he opened the skin and handed it to her. “Drink deeply,” he said.
She did, and instantly the light-headedness she had been feeling dissipated.
“You did well, love,” Caradoc said, taking a long drink from the skin when she was done. “Did I understand correctly? Suetonius has Boudica’s medallion piece?”
“He does. He made a big show of taking it from Catus. Flavius says he wears it around his neck for everyone to see.”
Caradoc’s amber eyes darkened with anger. “Someday soon I will thank him for making it so easy to find that which we seek.”
“Caradoc, you have to stay away from him. Suetonius is more dangerous than you can imagine.”
“I can imagine very well. I saw his work at Mona. Do you know he impaled priestesses while they were still living?”
Alex shuddered. “No.”
“It is something I will never forget, no matter how many lives I live.”
“Caradoc, please don’t go after him. We’ll figure out a way to get the medallion—a way that doesn’t involve you taking him on,” Alex said.
He surprised her by smiling.
“Love, you are not from this world, so I will not be offended that you have such little faith in my prowess as a warrior. But I assure you, I am skilled and able to protect myself.”
“I don’t doubt your abilities!” Alex almost shouted. How frustrating that he would take it as an affront to his manhood that she didn’t want him to fight the damn alien! “You say that I’m from a different world than this, so I don’t understand all I should about you and your awesome warrior abilities. But the same goes for what I’ve been telling you about Suetonius. He’s a creature from another world, Caradoc! At least I’m just from the future.” She dropped her head in her hands, feeling completely overwhelmed. “This is all my fault. It’s because of me and the stupid medallion pieces that all of this is happening.”
Alex felt Caradoc tug at her hands, and reluctantly let him pull them from her face. He was on his knees in front of her.
“Do not ever say that. Do not ever think that. You are not responsible for the evil deeds Suetonius has committed. Yes, he might be here because of the medallion pieces. Did you put them here, Blonwen? And what about the Isle of Mona, and the druids and priestesses there that he slaughtered—did they have the pieces of the medallion?”
“No,” she said softly.
“Of course they did not. Suetonius chooses his path, and then Fate guides his feet. It is the same for all of us. Consider this—if the medallion pieces were not here, would Suetonius be in his home world, peacefully living his life?”
Alex considered for a moment and then said, “I don’t think so. From what the people who sent me here told me, Suetonius and those like him are at their hearts destructive, violent beings. I don’t think it’s possible for most of them to find peace.”
“Then were he not here, he would be attacking another people in another time.”
“Yes, probably.”
“What would happen if he fails here? If he doesn’t retrieve the medallion pieces?” he asked her.
Alex shrugged. “I’m not sure. His people aren’t exactly forgiving, so I would guess he’d be in trouble with them.”
Caradoc smiled. “Then if you cause him to be defeated here, are you not responsible for saving a group of people?”
She stared at him.
His smile widened. “You haven’t thought of that, have you?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I haven’t.”
“So we defeat him, and by doing so you save the Iceni from future ravages by him, as well as other nameless peoples and the future of your world and mine.”
“Well, all the medallion pieces have to be found to actually save the future of the world,” she admitted.
“Do your part, love, and the rest will fall into place. I know it in my soul,” he said.
“Is it really that simple?”
“That simple and that complex.”
Alex laughed. “And to think I told your mom that you were less cryptic than she was.”
His smile turned sad. “Is my mother here with us now?”
Alex glanced quickly arou
nd and then said, “No, I haven’t seen her since I tried to summon Flavius without you. She warned me that I should wait for your help, but she wouldn’t give me specifics on how to call a spirit to me.”
“She wouldn’t know how to summon spirits. My mother was a priestess of Andraste, not a Soul Speaker.”
“You’re not a Soul Speaker, so how do you know?”
“Were you from this time, Alexandra, you would already understand the answer to that question.”
“And that answer is?” she prompted.
“Druids know everything,” he said with a cocky grin.
“Really? Oh my word! I had no idea! I simply must thank you for being here to think for my poor little female self!” Alex batted her eyes and put on her best Scarlett O’Hara accent.
Caradoc lifted a brow. “In your world is that what is called sarcasm?”
“No, in my world that is what is called great acting.” Then she giggled as she remembered how often she had attempted a Scottish accent, in honor of Gabaldon’s Jamie Fraser, and failed as miserably as she had with a Southern accent. And now, irony of all ironies, she’d been speaking in a perfectly authentic Celtic burr, thanks to Professor Carswell. But she probably wouldn’t retain any of it.
“Really?” Caradoc mimicked. “So you’re a bard back in your world?”
“Not exactly,” she said through giggles.
“Too bad. I’ve always wanted to seduce a bard.”
Alex sobered instantly. “I was mistaken. Back in my old world, I’m definitely a bard.”
“Definitely?” he said, eyes shining.
“Absolutely definitely,” she stated.
As she started giggling again, Caradoc pulled her off the rock and into his arms, and kissed her until she honestly didn’t care whether she’d been a bard, a biologist or a bartender. She simply wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him back.
Soon her giggles changed to soft moans and she was pressing her body to his, loving the feel of his hard muscles under her hands.