Chapter Three B
Edinburgh
The Bloody Stump Tavern
Six months later
The blow had snapped his head back, but he was still upright.
That was something, anyway.
There was shouting echoing off the walls as Cam faced off against another man in a dirty tavern on the edge of town, a place with a name that, when spoken, sounded much like a man did when he vomited.
A guttural, harsh noise that had something to do with the Northmen who had once plagued these lands.
Blodig Stoode—The Bloody Stump.
It was a place of darkness, of gamblers and thieves and murderers, men using the mossy stone walls to hide their particular brand of evil from the world.
But that was in the daytime; at night they’d crawl from the hovel like vermin, out into the darkness beyond to commit their crimes before retreating back into the place before daybreak.
It was a place that the decent folk of Edinburgh avoided, but it was a place that had drawn Cam into its bosom. He’d come for information about the Ludus Caledonia and he hadn’t been very discreet about it.
That was where the trouble started.
Finding the place hadn’t been as easy as he thought, or as St. Drostan had intimated.
In fact, any mention of The Cal sent men scurrying away, refusing to even hear the name.
Cam had come back time and time again to the tavern, asking every day, and meeting with a wall of silence every day.
Having no real money, Cam had been forced to live in the streets of Edinburgh, begging for any job to survive.
His life had gone from bad to worse in just a few short months.
Every day, he returned to The Bloody Stump with the hope that the tavernkeeper would finally give him the information he needed, but day after day he went ignored.
Discouragement threatened to swamp him every single day.
It was difficult to be in a strange place, seeking something he was equally uncertain about, and then being disappointed when nothing happened.
But still, he came back. There was something in him that refused to quit and today, he’d come back to The Bloody Stump to try again.
With what little money he had, he’d purchased some cheap ale in a dirty cup and made his way to a darkened corner to wait for that one opportunity that might send him off to The Cal.
Unfortunately, that was where the trouble started.
It wasn’t unusual in a place like The Bloody Stump.
There were fights by the hour, nasty fights that often saw men killed or maimed.
Cam tried to stay clear of the troublemakers, but that didn’t always work.
Like now—he’d accidentally stepped on the foot of an enormous bald man with an earring through his nose and fists the size of hams.
After that, the fight was on.
The first blow had sent him onto his backside because it caught him off guard.
The cheap ale in his hand went flying. Leaping to his feet, he had been somewhat prepared for the second blow, which was where he found himself now—on his feet in a tilting world.
Unfortunately, because he was big and strong, he seemed to be a target for the aggressors and he faced fights like this nearly every night, but this particular fight seemed more ridiculous than usual.
He’d barely clipped the man’s foot, but suddenly there’d been a fist in his face.
Even now, as the bald giant was throwing punches at him, Cam backed away, preparing to fend off anything that came too close. He was hoping the man would wear himself out, and he’d managed to do well enough until some joker pushed a stool out and he ended up falling over it, tumbling to the floor.
A chorus of laughter went up in the dingy tavern as the bald giant pounced on Cam and pulled him up by his neck.
Cam knew that he was in a bad way, so he surmised that he had no choice but to fight back now.
He couldn’t wait for the man to wear himself out or he might very well find himself strangled to death.
Rather than wear himself out in a struggle with a man who was clearly bigger and stronger than he was, Cam decided to end the battle quickly.
Bringing up his hands, he shoved his thumbs into the giant’s eyes, causing the man to howl in pain.
But it did the trick; the giant immediately released him.
As he stumbled back, blinded, Cam threw a punch that caught him in the throat.
After that, the fight was essentially over.
Gasping for air, the giant collapsed to the floor while the patrons of the tavern cheered and laughed. Fearful that man might retaliate, Cam thought it would be best to get out of sight, at least for the evening, so he quickly headed for the exit.
As he moved, patrons were grabbing at him, laughing, demanding he fight them because the fight with the giant had ended so abruptly. It had been unsatisfying for their bloodlust.
“Ceárdach!” a man with a mangy head and missing most of the fingers on his left hand called out to him. “I dare ye tae fight me! I can do it with my hand tied behind my back!”
He was indicating his left hand and the crowd roared with laughter. Cam smiled thinly. There was humor there, but there was also a real challenge. He declined.
“Another day,” he told him. “Tie yer other hand behind yer back and I might consider it.”
The crowd continued to laugh, taunting him, and Cam forged on in his path toward the door.
He simply wanted to leave before the giant, whom he’d seen once or twice before at the tavern, decided to pull a blade on him.
Therefore, Cam pushed past the people demanding another fight.
As he neared the door, yet another body stepped out from the shadows and blocked his path.
“You are the man they call Cam Netherton,” he said.
Cam found himself looking at a big man, taller than himself, but mostly gone to fat.
He had a hint of a smile on his round face and Cam couldn’t tell if it was hostile or friendly.
In a place like this, Cam could only assume hostile, so he tried to move around the man and get to the door.
That only caused the man to block him again.
“Someone from The Cal wishes to speak with you if you are the man called Cam,” the man said.
The Cal. Those words struck an immediate chord with him. In a place like this, nothing was certain. Cam had learned not to trust anyone and unless the innkeeper himself was speaking of the Ludus Caledonia, Cam wasn’t apt to believe it.
“I have nothing tae say,” he said. “Get out of my way.”
He made one more push to move around the man, but the man threw an arm out and prevented him from opening the door. His movements, which hadn’t been particularly strong until that moment, suddenly became quite forceful.
The message was clear.
“You have been seeking us and now we have come,” he said, the smile gone from his face. “Are you so foolish that you do not know when destiny has called upon you?”
That brought Cam pause. He looked at the man, torn between punching him in the throat and listening to what he had to say.
“Tell me who ye are,” he said. “I have no time for riddles.”
A smile flickered on the man’s lips. “’Tis not a riddle I give you,” he said, indicating a table tucked back in the dark shadows. “We have come. If you do not speak with us now, we will not return. This is your only chance.”
It made absolutely no sense to Cam what the man was saying and he was about to say so when the bald giant suddenly appeared behind him and grabbed him by the arms.
“You will want to talk to him,” he said, shoving Cam in the direction of the table. “He can change your life.”
Between the man blocking the door and the bald giant, who was still coughing and rubbing his throat with his free hand, Cam found himself practically carried over to the corner where there was a big table shoved back into a small alcove.
Two men were sitting there, a pitcher of ale between them.
As Cam and the other two men came close, the pair looked up from their drinks.
“You use your mind when you fight,” the first man said in a heavy Teutonic accent. “You do not waste effort; you strike for maximum effect.”
“Aye, he does,” the bald giant agreed, hand to his neck. “I bear the proof of it.”
Cam found himself shoved right down into a chair that nearly toppled because he sat on it so heavily.
He and toppling chairs had a history. But he didn’t like being pushed around and was about to stand up and fight his way back to the door if he had to when the man with the heavy accent spoke again.
“You have been seeking The Cal.”
There were those words again: The Cal. Day after day in this hellish place had brought nothing for him and it took him a moment to realize that this might be exactly what he’d been waiting for.
It had come not with fanfare, but with men hiding in a corner of a dirty tavern.
Everything he’d been thinking, every frustration he’d been feeling, was doused like water on a flame.
Was it even possible?
In awe, he looked to the man who had spoken.
“Are ye truly from the Ludus Caledonia?” he asked.
The man didn’t reply. In fact, no one answered. They were all looking at Cam, appraising him, and he could feel their weighty stares. There was great anticipation in the silence, something so fragile that a mere whisper would have shattered it.
Cam, who had been exhausted and beaten and hungry for months on end, couldn’t take the pressure. This was what he’d been waiting for and these fools wanted to play a game. The words came tumbling out.
“I know I’m not tae speak of it,” he said, lowering his voice.
“But I was told tae come tae this place and speak tae the innkeeper about The Cal. I was told that if I did, The Cal would find me. I have been waiting months in this place, wallowing in this sty with the rest of the pigs, so if ye’re truly from The Cal, then I am listening. ”