Chapter Nine
Edinburgh
Screaming…
Fire…
Heart pounding, Cam found himself running. Suddenly, he was back in Netherton, running toward the sounds of screams. All he could think about was getting to his grandfather, of protecting him. He was an old man, weakened in his old age, and needed help.
He had to make it home.
But he paused in his flight to look around him. Undulating fire, bright shades of orange and yellow, surreal as it burned up to the sky.
Even the sky was on fire.
Coughing. There was smoke everywhere.
God, what is happening?
Fear filled him. His heart was beating faster.
Cam started to run again, running along an avenue and veering around the bodies that were strewn in his path.
They weren’t even bodies as much as heaps of ash.
But as fast as his feet were moving, he didn’t seem to be gaining any ground.
The road was stretching out before him and the faster he ran, the longer the road became.
But then, he could see it—his small cottage in the distance, the one he’d helped his grandfather build.
His breathing began to come in panicked gasps now.
When next he realized, he was in front of his home, rushing toward the door only to see something lying in the dirt several feet away.
He came to such an abrupt halt that he slid in the dirt and lost his balance.
Falling to his knees, he crawled toward the lifeless figure, half covered in clumps of earth because the garden all around it had been torn up.
He clawed his way toward the body in the dirt.
When he came within a foot or so of it, he could see the big hands of it, scarred with age and work.
He could see half of his grandfather’s face as he lay in the garden that he so loved.
There was blood.
Oh, God…
With a start, Cam awoke, feeling that familiar terror and struggling to orient himself. He didn’t even try to go back to sleep; he’d been having these dreams for months now and he knew from experience they weren’t easily shaken.
It would be better if he simply rose and went about his business.
As the first streaks of dawn began to fill the eastern horizon, Cam splashed freezing water on his face and headed out into the early morning, praying that today would be the day.
The day that destiny finally found him.
*
The Sticky Wick Tavern
The blow had snapped his head back, but he was still upright.
Shouting echoed off the walls as Cam faced off against another man in a dirty tavern on the edge of Edinburgh. The decent folks of Edinburgh avoided it, but Cam had come here months ago for information about the Ludus Caledonia and he hadn’t been very discreet about it.
Any mention of the Ludus Caledonia sent men scurrying away. Cam had come back to the tavern every day and been met with a wall of silence. Having little money, he had lived in the streets, begging for jobs, watching his life go from bad to worse in just a few short months.
He missed those days with his fiery Highland lass.
He still had that lock of her hair, tucked safely into his tunic, but he had a mission and was determined to fulfill it, no matter the personal cost. The deep and unrelenting thirst for vengeance continued to burn within him, creating a black hole where his soul used to be.
This morning, he’d come back to The Sticky Wick to try yet again.
With the few coins he had, he’d purchased some cheap ale in a dirty cup and made his way to a dark corner.
That was when the trouble started.
It wasn’t unusual in a place like The Sticky Wick. There were nasty fights by the hour. 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 fists the size of hams.
The fight was on.
The first blow had caught him off guard and sent him onto his backside. 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.
Cam decided to end the battle quickly. Bringing up his hands, he shoved his thumbs into the giant’s eyes. 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 over.
Fearful of retaliation, 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 grabbed at him, laughing, demanding he fight them next. He was nearly to the door when a body stepped 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. Fearing it was someone looking for another fight, Cam tried to move around him, but the man blocked his path.
“Someone from The Cal wishes to speak to you if you are the man called Cam,” the man said.
Cam almost pushed past him again, but something in what the man had said stopped him. The Cal. Those words rang in Cam’s muddled head. Could he possibly mean the Ludus Caledonia? After all of these months, Cam wasn’t willing to take anything for granted.
Could it possibly be?
“The… the Cal?” he repeated, dazed and suspicious.
The man nodded. “You have been seeking us and now we have come. If you do not speak with us now, we will not return. This is your only chance.”
Cam wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to blow what might be the exact opportunity he’d been looking for, but in a place like this, all men were liars.
He’d discovered that the hard way. Before he could make the decision himself, the man grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him over to a table and shoved him into a small alcove.
Two men sat there, a pitcher of ale between them.
As Cam 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.”
Cam wasn’t sure how to respond, still feeling wary. “What do ye want with me?”
“It is what you want with us. You have been seeking The Cal.”
“Do ye mean the Ludus Caledonia?”
The man with the accent sat forward so that his face came into the light. He was older, his tanned skin like leather, but his brilliant blue eyes told a story.
“Who told you to come here and ask for The Cal?” he said, answering Cam’s question with one of his own.
Cam didn’t see any harm in responding; at that point, he was still closer to the door and could bolt if necessary.
“Drostan Lindsay,” he said. “He is the chief of Clan Lindsay of Kirkburn Castle and I live on his lands. Drostan has been tae The Cal and he said it is where a man can learn tae fight. I want tae fight.”
“Why?”
“Because I have men tae kill,” Cam said simply. “Clan Keith destroyed my village. My grandfather was killed. I am a smithy by trade, not a warrior, but that doesna matter. I will learn tae fight and I will have my vengeance.”
It was a simple but honest answer. The man with the brilliant blue eyes stared at Cam for a moment longer before sitting back in his chair.
“I suppose that is as good a reason as any,” he said. “As I said before, you fight with your brains because you brought Luther to his knees, which takes a clever man. You took on a bigger, stronger man and you won with your wits more than your strength.”
Cam had no idea what he meant. “Who is Luther?”
“Me,” the big, bald man he’d battled with came up behind him, rubbing his eyes. “I am Luther. You showed courage, little man. Not many stand against me and win.”
Cam lifted his eyebrows at him. He wasn’t a little man by any means, but compared to Luther, he supposed that he was.
It began to occur to him that the fight just a few minutes ago wasn’t random.
He’d barely stepped on the man’s foot and the speed with which Luther threw a fist at him.
He remembered thinking that it had all happened with very little provocation. Now he knew why.
He’d been set up.
“Mayhap I am a little man,” he said. “But this little man sent ye tae the ground.”
Luther grinned. “Very true.”
“So ye’ll not call me a little man again.”
“Nay, I will not. You fought like a lion.”
Cam studied him a moment before looking to the men in the shadows. “Ye planned the fight,” he said. “But why did ye do it?”
The man with the accent spoke. “We had to see if you were worthy,” he said. “A man must be weighed and measured, for we do not take just anyone. Therefore, answer one question, Cam Netherton—do you wish to find your destiny?”
Cam nodded even as he mulled over the words. “Find it,” he said. “And change it.”
“And you are willing to do whatever it takes?”
“I am.”
With that, Luther grasped Cam by the arm and ushered him to the door of the tavern, dragging him out into the cold night beyond.
Little did Cam know that the destiny the man had spoke of had only just begun.