A Beautiful Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #2)

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

C old drizzle pelting his face woke Gavin. He tried to sit up, but everything tilted, and he almost threw up. Moving slower, he once again lifted himself and looked around. Nothing looked familiar. Water dripped from his drenched hair, every movement making him so dizzy he had no choice but to lay back onto the wet ground.

“Sir, are you injured? Is there something I can get for you?” a male voice asked.

He opened his eyes to see two images meld into one. A man stood over him, peering down. He held a stick with circular item that kept more rain from falling on him. “I think we need to get you out of the rain. Come.” He held his hand out, and Gavin took it, needing the man’s strength to stand.

Strangely, once he stood, some of the dizziness evaporated. Not sure where he was, except for the fact that it was definitely not the alter-world, he followed the man into a shop, a bell cheerfully jingling over the door as they entered.

Once inside, he recognized it to be a book shop. There were shelves upon shelves against every wall, filled with carefully placed books. Along the center, oval shaped tables displayed more books and bottles that were filled with what looked to be herbs. Each bottle was labeled in neat handwriting.

The man who’d invited Gavin to follow him looked to be in his thirties, slight of build with dark hair. He led him to the back room, a parlor of sorts.

Still not introducing himself, the bespectacled brown eyes took Gavin in as the man removed his wet coat and hung it on a hook.

“I’ll get you something dry so you can change out of those wet clothes. I will return shortly.” With that, the man hurried from the room.

Unsure what to do and unable to sit since he was soaked, Gavin studied the surroundings. Moments later, the man returned holding clothing.

He seemed the friendly sort. “I’m John by the way, John Stewart.” He handed him some grey clothing and pointed to a door. “All I have are these sweats. I ordered them the wrong size, I suppose it's a good thing, now. You can change in there, the bathroom is big enough.”

John looked him over with curiosity. “We have much to discuss.”

Pondering the man’s words, Gavin went to the small room. Not sure what to do with his wet clothes, he removed them and piled them into a basin attached to the wall. Using a cloth, he dried himself before pulling on the soft clothing the man had given him. Instead of boots, the man had given him thick stockings.

Gavin found John in an adjoining room, a kitchen. He’d poured two cups of what he recognized as coffee and motioned for him to sit down. In the middle of the table, a plate laden with sweet biscuits tempted him.

“Please help yourself,” John said smiling at him. “If you’re hungry, I can make you a sandwich.”

Gavin shook his head, unsure if he could eat or drink. Strangely, it felt as if he didn’t belong, as if he should be elsewhere. “Thank you for the clothing. What place is this?”

“My book shop. We are in Edinburgh, Scotland,” John replied. “What is your name?”

It was then he realized he did not know for sure. A name that felt somewhat familiar came to mind. “I believe my name is Gavin, Gavin Campbell.”

“I see,” John said, his expression blank. “Where do you come from? By your dress, it seems you’re not from the twenty-first century.”

Not sure what the man spoke about, Gavin cocked his head to the side. “I am not from here. I do not know or remember where I come from.”

“Do you remember anything?”

Gavin didn’t.

After a moment, he gave up and drank the coffee.

“Hold on. Let me get a book, Campbell.” John got up and went to the front room. Gavin heard him moving things around and a thump when something fell, followed by a curse. It was a long moment before John returned. When he did, the man stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open. “You, um, your beard and hair grew.”

Gavin felt his face. He did need to shave, but he didn’t understand John’s reaction.

“When I left the room, you were almost clean shaven. Now you have more than a five o’clock shadow. Oh no.” John’s eyes widened, sending alarm bells through Gavin.

“What is wrong?”

John paced the room; removing his glasses he pinched his nose. “Something is very off. I wonder if you are out of your time. Perhaps a time traveler.” John shook his head. “Is that even possible?”

The man paced, opening a book and turning the pages. “We have to find a way to return you where you belong and fast.”

“Clan Campbell is huge, there are probably hundreds of Gavin Campbells in Scotland, if not thousands. Does Duke of Argyll ring a bell?”

It didn’t.

“Come.” Mumbling to himself, John motioned for him to follow, and they made their way back into the shop. Gavin watched as John began pulling books and flipping through pages.

Picking up the glass bottle, Gavin peered inside. “Are you a wizard?”

John glanced up at him his brows drawing together. “Er, yeah, well sort of. More of a witch. This is most peculiar. What year are you from?”

Gavin shrugged. “I lived in Scotland in the sixteen hundreds. At least that is what I think.” He looked around the space. “Is this your shop?”

The man nodded while flipping pages anew. “Yes. I live upstairs. There are two bedrooms and bathroom above.” He said, pointing to the ceiling.

“Please sit,” John studied an open book and began putting different items into a large black bowl. Gavin stopped watching after a while and went to stand by the front window. The rain stopped, but the day remained overcast. Occasionally a means of transportation went by. A flicker of a memory formed, him riding one such vehicle. It caught him by surprise, but as quick as it came, it was gone. Seeing a woman crossing the street, he watched her until she turned a corner and was no longer visible. Did he have a woman in his life? Why didn’t he remember anything?

“Do you have a wife?” He asked John, not turning away from the window.

“Oh, no, I am not married. I don’t…er…” John left off, and sneezed, “Oh goodness, these ingredients sure do smell. Open the window please.”

The fresh air cooled the room immediately, and Gavin went back to watch John. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember things, but it only brought a pounding to his temples, almost as if something was intent on keeping him from remembering. Still he pushed through, hoping for any detail, no matter how small.

John looked at him for a moment then away, seeming nervous, uneasy around him. Yet, the man’s presence gave Gavin ease. It was as if they were meant to be friends, or at least acquaintances. A picture of a blond man formed, but he couldn’t place the face with the memory.

“Okay. Sit down, let me light these candles and we’ll begin.” John lit a candle; it flickered weakly and went out. “Damn it.” John hurried to the open window and closed it. He relit the candles. This time they remained ignited, and John sat across from Gavin.

He poured liquid into the concoction in the bowl and began stirring it, chanting a spell. Words in a language Gavin did not understand.

When John opened his eyes, Gavin waited. “Close your eyes, tell me what you see.”

Gavin closed his eyes. An image of a woman formed in his mind, fair of skin, she stood nude next a bed. She was exquisite. Was this his wife? His eyes flew open. “I may be married.”

John’s eyes went to his left hand. “You’re not wearing a ring, but it’s possible. What did you see?”

“A woman, red hair, beautiful.”

“Did a name come to you?”

Gavin concentrated. “Liam.”

“Um, that’s a man’s name. Who is Liam?”

“I do not know.”

John frowned. “All right, let’s concentrate on the woman. Close your eyes again.” He began chanting once more. Gavin did his best to concentrate on the image of the woman he’d seen. This time he saw her smiling broadly at him. They were outdoors. She waved and began walking towards him. He concentrated on the memory and saw her sitting next to him, showing him a small item with a depiction of her face on it.

“Sabrina. Her name is Sabrina,” he told the wide-eyed John.

“Sabrina Lockhart.”