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

Chapter 55

The next week was more than hectic. The city buzzed with activity in preparation for the caravan which the fivesome would accompany to the mountains. Women carried baskets, men hauled supplies, and dusty, curious children tagged along behind the adults. It was a beehive; everyone had a job.

Lillian learned, in those days, why the nurses were all so scrawny. Paleo had laughed so hard he cried when she mentioned it, then explained the system. While the smaller men stayed back and learned the practice of medicine, nursing, and other useful skills, the larger, stronger men comprised the caravans; they would shoulder the majority of the supplies and morph into their Animalia form, effectively carrying rations far more efficiently than any camel. It was faster that way, too. Lillian had been more than surprised when Paleo informed her it'd take little more than two days to reach the mountains.

Nyle, Sam, and Chad were given smaller packs than the others, considering they were all wiry muscle and bones. Both Nyle and Sam had lost a little weight since they'd started out, but Chad took the prize for achieving the status of human beanpole. He'd gotten taller, though; where he'd previously been only an inch or so higher than Lillian, he was now almost level with Nyle. She only wished she could get him to eat enough to hide his ribs and collarbone a little better.

Crynia and Lillian didn't get packs to carry, which led to endless teasing from Sam. Nyle chipped in to poke fun at them now and then, too. It was no coincidence they both ended up involuntarily swimming in the oasis after making a series of jokes on the dock.

It was Nyle who delivered the message that made Lillian's heart skip a beat. He poked his head in her door and shot her a smile as she stuffed her clothes in a sack with several heads of lavender to keep away the smell of sweat.

"We're ready," he said. Just two words, but they meant everything. They were a precursor to a secret revealed, a war potentially ended. This journey was the key to freedom.

She was more than ready to begin.

***

Lynn disappeared in the days before the departure, only showing her face for meals and meetings. It was odd, Nyle thought, that someone so social would sit out the hustle and bustle of preparation, but he didn't question it. Lillian's grandmother had good judgement; there was always a reason behind her actions. And it seemed she had one now, as she singled him out in the crowd and jerked her head in the direction of the two camels the caravan had conceded to bringing along for Chad. He was human; he couldn't keep up with the desert cats on foot.

Nyle had enough sense to know she was likely going to lecture him on Lillian's safety or something of the like. It surprised him when she led him straight past the camels and to the edge of the gate before stopping, staring out at the red-gold sand and letting the hot wind snag her silvery hair out of the loose bun she wore it in.

"I have something to give you," she said when he stepped up beside her and stuck his hands in his pockets, only to have to pull them out again when she offered him a small drawstring bag made of cotton. "Take care of it."

The ring that dropped into his palm shone in the sun, the polished white gold and blue gem radiant in the dying rays of light on the horizon. He stared for a moment, first at the ring, then at Lynn. She was smiling.

"But this is your--"

"I'm aware," she said, digging something else out of her robes. Nyle stared again as she lit a miniature cigar--a cigarette, as he'd learned they were called--and breathed in the smoke.

"I thought those were death sticks."

Her smile was bittersweet as she shot him a wink. "Dying anyway." Rolling the cigarette between her fingers, Lynn looked out at the horizon, the sun catching all the gold in her brown eyes and setting it aflame. "I have been for a while now. It's why we came out here, Nigel and I. Thought the bloody thing'd gone away with the cure. Came back within six months."

Nyle ran the pad of his finger along the curling design on the interior of the ring, forcing back the lump in his throat. "A tumor?"

"Mm," Lynn hummed, taking another long draw of smoke. It stung Nyle's nostrils when the wind carried it over. "Obadiah doesn't expect me to live through next winter. Which is why I want you to give that--" She tapped his palm. "--to Lillian."

"Why me?"

Lynn's laugh was soft and husky. "Because I don't expect Chad, Sam, or Crynia to propose to her anytime in the near future. And I trust you."

Heat crept up Nyle's neck and face. "Propose?"

Lynn hummed another laugh. "If you two aren't married in a year's time I'll drink every bottle of gin in Ibadan's study." When Nyle didn't say anything, red as a strawberry and more than a little flustered, Lynn's mouth edged up. "I've seen how you watch her when she isn't looking, and she does the same to you when she's feeling brave. How long've you loved her? Six years? Seven? Love like that doesn't just die, hon. Say something. Make it count."

"I already have," he finally got out, quieter than he'd intended. "We talked about it. We're taking it slow."

"Good." Flicking ash off the end of her cigarette, Lynn winked at him again. "You'll be awfully busy, learning how to run a kingdom."

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Nyle almost forgot to breathe. His accent was heavy, even in his own ears, when he choked out, "I beg your pardon?"

Lynn's laugh was high and short. "I know you know what that tattoo means. Chad told me you do."

"He knows?"

"Chad hears a great deal he never speaks of," Lynn mused. "You might ask him about it someday."

"Bloody--" Nyle muttered under his breath before cutting off and running a hand over his hair. "How'd you know? He tell you?"

"No." Taking a last breath of smoke, Lynn flicked the cigarette away, where it landed in the sand by the gatepost. "I've had a good deal of time to read in my stay here, and it didn't take me long to learn the language. I found the tattoo in an old book a year ago and thought I remembered it, but I wasn't sure until I studied yours while you were unconscious." As Nyle ran a hand over his jaw, Lynn shot him a sideways smile. "Does it scare you? Your heritage?"

"It's bloody terrifying," he said past a single-syllable laugh.

"Power was not meant to be in the hands of those who want it. I think you will be a good ruler."

Scuffing the ground with his boot, Nyle looked down. "And what if I don't want to be a king?"

Pursing her lips, Lynn fished another cigarette out of her robes. "I cannot choose your paths for you, but I can say this: be careful. Your bloodline makes you a target, and if Agnir discovers you are alive..." She struck a match with unnecessary vigor and lit her cigarette. "Be careful," she repeated gravely.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature crawled down Nyle's back, slow and menacing. Taking a breath, he shook it off. "I will." Dropping the ring back in its sack, he pocketed it. "What if we don't...you know, get married? Lillian and I, I mean."

"Give it to her anyway," Lynn said with a shrug of her bony shoulders. "It'd be nice to know it continued down the line of Longfellows."

The horn blew, long and low and haunting across the sun-stained desert. Nyle squinted into the last rays of light as the tip of the sun sank below the horizon. Dusk was here, the stars dusting its wake. It was time to leave.

"You'd better go," Lynn said softly. Nyle turned away, but she stopped him with a light touch on his arm. Her last words to him were quiet, and her eyes were lonely. For the first time, she looked her age. "Take care of them."

She was all bones and sinewy muscle when he hugged her. "Always," he promised as her grey hair tickled his nose. She was smiling when he pulled away, and she jerked her head at the caravan.

He remembered how she looked the last time he saw her, when he glanced over his shoulder. A dark, slender silhouette framed by the gate against a red-gold sky, her arms crossed and her hair half-unbound. Lynn Longfellow. Always ready to face anything.

Death certainly wouldn't have it easy when he came for her soul.