Chapter 10 - Cammon
Cammon
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I couldn’t stop staring at this woman. This stuck-up stick-in-the-mud who’d impressed me so far with nothing except for her ability to look down her nose at everyone, bind her hair into a solid, and button her collar high enough that it should have cut off her air supply.
Despite everything about her that made my balls want to shrivel up, I found myself experiencing an uncomfortable kinship with her.
From the moment she’d laid eyes on that tree, she’d transformed from the used-up piece of dry parchment into a living, breathing person.
Not just living, but alive. The sparkle in her hazel eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the way she struggled to hide the smile that would not be kept down made me realize that somewhere beneath all her buttons was a human being with more passion than the majority of creatures experienced in their lives.
Over a piece of tree bark and a tiny wooden box.
Most people might not understand it, but all my years roaming from one side of the continent to the other in search of treasure meant I was in a perfect position to appreciate her excitement.
My vision sharpened the longer I watched her, the finer details of her face—the dimple in her right cheek, the way the sun brought out hints of gold and red in her dark hair—coming into clear focus.
I forced myself to turn away as my breeches tented, and after a few deep breaths, sense returned.
“Are you ready to move on?” I asked, and cleared my throat around the gruffness that lined my words.
“I am.”
None of the enthusiasm I’d read in her eyes transferred to her voice. She sounded as dry and serious as the woman I’d met and the woman who’d walked into the inn, and I was grateful. I didn’t need complications, and that’s just what she would be if I started to find her… interesting.
But my interest didn’t wane as we continued in silence along the road towards the location of the second signpost. If anything, it increased.
After so many hours, I expected to hear the first complaints about the journey, but she said nothing.
Not even the faintest grumble about the weight of her pack and extra unnecessaries.
Gloria Dolan was far from muscular. She appeared lithe and trim, but more like someone who spent too much time working to remember to eat than someone used to lifting massive weight.
Her belongings should have had her breaking a sweat at the very least.
That she appeared unaffected by her burden intrigued me, and despite all my efforts not to care, I couldn’t help but wonder why.
Driven by curiosity, I allowed her to lead the way and took the opportunity to watch her from behind.
The sway of her hips with every step, the smoothness of her tread, the rare glimpse of her trim, black-stockinged calves where they extended from the tops of her boots—the only part of her attire I considered practical for our current purpose.
Nothing I noticed gave away how she carried her effects so easily.
Then again, she was a mage. I hadn’t bothered to ask what variety since I didn’t care, but perhaps that was the answer. An air mage could potentially work an enchantment to lighten her load.
The longer I considered the puzzle, the more I accepted my suspicion was correct, and my curiosity ebbed. Magic did little to impress me, and while Glory’s abilities meant I wouldn’t be expected to shoulder her pack once her muscles tired, her power was no exception.
I caught sight of the sun’s position in the sky, much closer to the western skyline than I’d realized, and my stomach rumbled. “We should stop to eat.”
She sent me a contemptuous look over her shoulder. “I hardly think that’s necessary. It’s not that much farther to the second signpost. I told you, Cammon, I’m not going to drag my feet.”
I drew to a sharp stop and set my hands on my hips. “Look, mage, I get that you think you know everything, and that’s nice for you, but I know treasure hunting. Eating is one of the most critical elements of the job. Food helps your energy, your strength… your temper.”
She stopped, turned, raised an eyebrow towards her hairline. “My temper is just fine, thank you very much.”
“Mine isn’t. We’ll stop, have a quick bite, and be back on the road. You’re welcome to keep going, but we’re not stopping any earlier tonight because you get hungry.”
I sat down on a rock by the side of the road and dug into my pack for something quick. Glory hesitated a minute longer before she huffed and joined me.
We didn’t speak while we ate, and I pretended not to notice when she pulled off her boots and rubbed her foot with a pained grimace. I especially averted my gaze when she pulled her boot back on and her skirt climbed up her leg, revealing more of the black stocking hugging the long, firm limb.
Our pause lasted long enough for the sweat to cool on my brow, and then we were off again, keeping a better pace as we moved towards evening.
By my reckoning, we would reach the second signpost shortly, which would give us enough time to make more distance before we set up camp.
I knew of two or three good places we could spend our first night, but my knowledge of the area would dry up once we moved farther outside the city.
I hadn’t been this way in over five years and had no idea what changes—or what dangers—might have moved in since then.
I was about to offer my thoughts to Glory when the mage in question stumbled on the road and sucked in an audible gasp.
Before I could register what had happened, she was running—or at least making an attempt to run in her ridiculous skirt—towards the thick green lilac trees up ahead.
Beyond the greenery, the rush of two rivers met in a dance of white-capped rapids.
I didn’t bother increasing my pace to catch up. At least, not by much. I may have lengthened my stride a tad so I didn’t miss whatever puzzle Tersey had left on round two. Or lose sight of whatever expressions flitted across Glory’s face when she unearthed the second clue.
She had done an impressive job of hiding her doubts that she’d find anything at the first signpost, but there had been no covering up her relief that we weren’t wasting our time. Now, only half a day later, here we were, ready to find the next.
“Be careful walking around over there,” she called. “Some of the trees are less than friendly. Oh! I think I see something!”
“At this rate, we’ll be home within the week,” I said.
She huffed a laugh over her shoulder. “If this amulet were that easy to find, someone would have tracked it down years ago.” She rolled her shoulders back and stared out over the water. “Still, it’s nice to believe it might be so straightforward.”
With a blink, she set her wishes aside and got back to work, pawing through branches thick with greenery but past the season of their aromatic beauty. I wandered around the edge of the trees, keeping well out of Glory’s way. Leaves from a nearby branch tickled my neck, and I swatted them aside.
“If you wanted to speed things up, you might put your long arms to use and help me,” came her muffled voice.
I crossed said long arms. “I’m here to guide and protect, not lose myself in foliage unless absolutely necessary.”
She paused her command with nature to look me over. Her gaze snagged on my neck, and her eyebrow kicked up the merest fraction before she returned to her task.
“So you say, but then you walk straight into some wingleaf. I told you to be careful.”
I cursed and dodged away from the tree, but the damage had been done.
Already, a deep, burning itch spread across my neck where the leaves had made contact with my bare skin.
Such an innocent-looking plant, yet contact with its oils promised a world of discomfort.
My hand moved of its own accord, my fingers curled and ready to scratch, and it was an extreme act of will to force my arm down.
“I got it!” The mage’s cry of joy grated along my last nerve. Any curiosity or enthusiasm I might have felt for this second landmark had withered and died with the wingleaf’s touch.
“Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here and move on,” I growled.
She waved me away, remaining bent over the lilac branches with her ass in the air.
“Like the first one, it’s embedded—though this time in the rock along the bank instead of in a tree.
Tersey had great faith that these natural features wouldn’t be affected by time.
” She looked at me over her shoulder with a frown.
“I wonder if he had something to do with that. A repelling spell, maybe? Something to turn people away from destroying it? Still, we see what happened to the river. A good storm might have—”
“Can you get the fuck on with it?” I interrupted, and again forced my hand down. The itch had spread, burrowing deeper under my flesh. If I made the mistake of letting it near my bloodstream, I would suffer a nightmare of an evening. What worked against wingleaf?
I wracked my brain trying to remember the ingredients of a basic salve, only half aware of what Glory was saying as she wrestled with the branches clawing at her clothing. I’d just landed on a half-forgotten piece of knowledge about taprush and fellweed when a sharp yelp broke my concentration.
Glory stood with her finger in her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Bested by a box?” I asked, tempering my smirk at the double-entendre.
She met my stare. “Better to be bested by a box than a stick. One serves far more purposes, and the other thinks too much of itself.” Without waiting for my response, she dropped her attention back to the box in question.
“This one definitely outsmarted me, though. I thought the clue might be similar to the last one. It mentions something about the scent of lilacs and the heat of a summer afternoon. Again, I don’t think he means this to be time dependent, but—oh! ”