The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 9

"You're staying here, whether you like it or not." Sam glared at Lillian with all the annoyance he could muster. She ignored him, stringing a scabbard and a sword over her back and fastening the buckle. Her boots scuffled the leaves beneath her as she strode purposefully over to her horse.

"I'm not," he stated firmly, shooting a hopeful glance at Nyle. "Am I, Nyle?"

Nyle just shot him a rueful smile and leaned against a gnarly old hickory, arms crossed. "Sorry, Sam," he said with a light shake of his head. "I agree with Lillian on this. You need rest."

Sam glared at him. "Oh, you're no fun. I've had hours of rest! And since when have you agreed with Lillian?" he protested. Nyle rolled his eyes, shaking his head again. "Besides, how strenuous can looking for a boy in the woods be?"

"You're not coming, and that's final," Lillian repeated decisively, raising her eyebrows a bit to emphasize her point. She gripped her pack in her small, strong hand, her braid falling over her shoulder, and pulled something out. "And put a shirt on, for goodness' sake." She hurled the clothing at him, and he caught it with a mockingly sour expression.

"So now you lend me a shirt?" he accused. "Couldn't you have done that last night?" He grinned as something came into his head that he knew definitely wasn't the case, but would antagonize her nonetheless. "Or did you just want to see me shirtless?"

She froze and threw a fond glare over her shoulder, and the corner of her mouth quirked up a little. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she lost control over her features and laughed. It echoed through the woods, over the birdcalls and the wind stirring the leaves.

"Just put your shirt on, you idiot," she said, still grinning. His heart was glad to see that he could still make her laugh, even after everything that had happened. It hurt him to see the pain lingering in her eyes, stark and heart-wrenching. It hurt him to see his very best friend in so much internal agony, suffering from that kind of grief. But most of all, it hurt him that he couldn't do a thing about it. He couldn't bring her father back. He couldn't bring her brother back. He couldn't bring the camp back. All he could do was sit here, useless, while she went and looked for someone who essentially held the fate of the realm in his hands.

He had to stay here, all because of a stupid snakebite.

Granted, there had been deadly venom killing him slowly only the night before, but what did that matter? He felt fine. Only a headache, sore, stiff limbs, a bit of dizziness...oh yes, he felt just perfect.

Shrugging the shirt over his shoulders, he fell back on the sheet he'd been sitting on. "Fine," he conceded, but not without a begrudging huff. Reaching his arms out on either side of him, he both heard and felt the fabric of the tunic strain. "Lil," he said, purposely changing his tone to an annoying pitch. She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "It's too small."

"You asked for it," Nyle pointed out with a satisfied grin. Sam scowled at him.

"Gee, thanks for the support," he said sarcastically.

"I try."

"Oh, right. Your honesty is astounding."

"I know. I'm humble, too," Nyle replied with a grin.

"The humblest," Lillian cut in, rolling her eyes as she turned from her horse, pack in hand. "We need to go. There's a storm on its way. Sam, there's food in here, and the river's not far, if you need water." She tossed the pack at him. It landed with a light thump in the leaves, and he pulled it towards himself lazily, still on his back.

"And you're leaving me without a weapon?" he complained. In response, Lillian unsheathed her knife—or one of them, that is—and tossed it hilt-first at him. He caught it smoothly, twirling it once in his fingers, and flicked an annoyed eyebrow.