Of Water and Dragons

Of Water and Dragons By Kelley Heckart Brought to you by Winterborn Dedication This book is dedicated to my wonderful husband and soul mate, Michael. Thank you for always believing in me. A special thanks goes out to Jaime and my mom for all their help, and to my creative writing teacher, Jeanette Baker, for encouraging me to turn my short story into a novel. An extra special thanks goes to Ruth Bochte for the awesome cover image of Nemu. And a big thank you to all my friends and family that offered their support. Prologue

AD 60, Druid stronghold on Ynys Mon (Mona) He called for the mists to encircle the island and hide them from the Romans. He called for the winds to make the crossing over the waters treacherous for the Romans. But it was not enough. The Romans were coming. He could see it all in the entrails of the young male boar that lay splattered against the pristine earth in an amorphous pattern of red. And he saw something else. He raised his arms to the stars and moon, speaking in a rich commanding voice that filled the ancient grove of oak, ash, beech and yew. The crowd was silenced by his voice. "A child will be born tonight who will someday help lead our people to freedom." A gust of wind blew through the grove. His loose white robes, carried by the wind, twisted tightly around him revealing the taut muscles of his tall, powerful body. "But first we must give the sacrifice..." He gazed out across the crowd of warriors, druids, women and children, his blue eyes softening. "We must give of ourselves." Chapter One The Encounter

AD 84-Battle of Mons Graupius, Northern Caledonia The scene before him caused his heart to race and set his blood on fire. Ambiorix, commander (praefectus equitum) of the "ala Gallorum Indiana" branch of the Roman cavalry, stared in disbelief at the thousands of half-naked Caledonian warriors standing on the hill, taunting the Roman soldiers by beating their crudely made swords and spears against their leather shields. The earth-shattering sound sent a shiver up his spine. He touched the owl feather he always carried into battle for good luck and then safely tucked the brown and white feather back into his tunic. The Roman soldiers stood their ground, remaining calm, their disciplined training put to the test. The Caledonian warriors were a terrifying sight with their wild hair combed back from their foreheads, the spiky strands resembling horns and their faces and bodies painted blue. The combination was otherworldly and Ambiorix thought they looked like a cross between a forest demon and the Greek god Pan, the half-goat, half-man god of the mountainside. The early morning mist dissipated, revealing scattered beams of sunlight that struck the battlefield like golden thunderbolts. Even in late summer, sunlight was unusual in the gloomy Highlands and he interpreted it to be a blessing from the Roman gods. Chariots lined the lower slopes, the metal-spiked wheels reflecting the mid- morning light. Each singleaxle vehicle was drawn by two small, sturdy highland ponies and carried a driver and warrior.

One of the warriors was showing off, running out on the chariot pole, standing on the yoke, and quick as a flash, he was back inside the chariot. Ambiorix's Celtic ancestors had used chariots in battle to hurl javelins at a high speed, but chariots had gone out of style with the southern tribes long ago. He noticed one chariot stood out from the rest. This one was intricately carved with circular symbols and glistened like gold in the sunlight. He suspected the warrior in this chariot was the Caledonii leader, Calgacus, who had united all the Celtic Highland tribes against Rome. His long reddish hair and beard blew wildly around his face. While most of the Caledonian warriors had little or no armor, this one wore fine chain mail armor covered with a richly colored cloak of red, yellow and purple. The taunts from the Caledonians continued, but their attempt to unsettle the Romans was futile. Ambiorix waited to see what the legionary commander, General Agricola, would do next. Agricola appeared unfazed by the thousands of Caledonian warriors taunting him. Astride his horse, he rode up and down the ranks, his sharp dark raven-like eyes scanning the soldiers, staring the men in the eye as he passed them. "Your past victories so bravely won have prepared you for this moment!" Pointing at the enemy, he continued, "The bravest of the Caledonians have been slain by the Roman sword. All that remains are the feeble and the timid. We win this battle, the campaign will be ended, and Rome will have this land in her grasp! To victory!" Agricola raised his sword. The soldiers, pumped up by his speech, raised their swords together, shouting, "Sol Invictus!" The battle began. A hush descended on the battlefield and then a sharp whistling sound tore through the sudden stillness, followed by a dense volley of arrows that rained down from the sky. Ambiorix raised his shield against the Caledonian aerial assault, his mount stepping nervously beneath him. Agricola dismounted. The first line of auxiliary foot soldiers, led by Agricola, charged. The foot soldiers charged in one line, the jangling sound of their Roman cingulims, or leather belts, sending up a roar like waves crashing against a rocky coastline. The valley floor rumbled as the soldiers marched, the decorated leather strips swaying back and forth. A blood-chilling Caledonian war cry echoed through the valley. The two armies clashed sword to sword on the field. Ambiorix waited patiently for the signal to charge. He knew Agricola's strategy was to have the cavalry units positioned on each end of the Roman line like wings, swing around and surround the Caledonians. Ambiorix had to wait until all the Caledonians were engaged in the battle before he could signal his unit of one thousand men to charge. From his position on the hill, he saw that the Romans had the advantage, their large shields protecting them as they methodically marched in one line, stabbing the enemy with their short swords. The long swords the Caledonians wielded were a disadvantage in tight hand-to-hand combat with the short Roman gladius. The sound of metal on metal was deafening, like loud claps of thunder rumbling through the valley. The fighting seemed to go on forever. Ambiorix glanced up, shielding his eyes with his hand. The sun was higher in the sky, the burning rays penetrating his thick shirt of scale. "These barbarians should surrender. Though they outnumber us, they don't have a chance." Ambiorix looked to his left at Marcus, his friend and fellow tribune, who was acting as decurion, commanding one of the squadrons of forty horsemen under the "ala Gallorum Indiana." "They are too proud to surrender." "Proud? I would say they are foolish." Ambiorix glanced at Marcus, shaking his head in disagreement. His friend gazed at the barbarian hordes, dark eyes filled with arrogance. "You must never underestimate the enemy, Marcus." Marcus laughed. "Yes, I suppose so..." The shrill, discordant battle horns of the enemy blared, the sound fitting to the chaos of war. Suddenly, from the top of the hill, the last line of Caledonians charged. Raising his spatha, or long sword above his head, Ambiorix ordered his men to charge. The ground shuddered under the pounding hooves of a thousand horses. He felt the power of the sword in his hand, vibrating, catching the powerful golden rays of the Greek sun god, Apollo.

Faces flashed by him--blue eyes, brown eyes, before he cut the warriors down with one slice of his sword. Seeing his enemy's eyes before killing them always disturbed him, though he would never admit it to anyone. Chaos erupted to his right. A wayward chariot without a driver careened out of control, nearly unseating him from his horse. The Caledonians were surrounded and still they kept fighting like madmen. Ambiorix expertly guided his horse through the blood and gore coating the valley floor. The smell of blood was so thick he could taste it, the bitter metallic flavor coating his tongue. Moans and cries filled the air sending shivers up his spine. He rode past body parts that lay scattered on the battlefield noticing one bloodied severed arm still defiantly clenching a sword in its fist. This was a horrific sight in contrast to the stunning sunset that was turning the sky and hills a deep shade of fiery red. The battle had lasted all day and the weariness was settling into his muscles and joints. His entire body ached. Carrion birds circled overhead, waiting. Defeated, the remaining Caledonians fled to the hills behind them and into the dense forest. Ambiorix urged his horse forward trying to stop as many as he could from escaping. He realized his mistake, but it was too late. The narrow path was covered with thick bushes and twisting vines making it difficult to give chase on horseback. He caught up to a group of Caledonians when suddenly they disappeared from sight as if swallowed up by the trees. The shadows closed in around him. From somewhere above, he was struck on the head and sent spinning into a black abyss. --Ambiorix awoke sometime later. Darkness permeated the forest except in small areas where the rays of the moon penetrated the thick tower of trees like tiny silver beams of light. His horse was gone and he couldn't find his helmet. It had probably been knocked off when he was struck in the head. The helmet had apparently saved his life, softening the blow. Slowly, he stood despite the throbbing in his head. The forest seemed to be alive all around him. Thorny branches reached out like fingers to claw at him, leaving ribbons of dark blood on his exposed skin. He didn't even flinch at this minor infliction of pain, but continued to fight his way through the thick wall of bushes. The throbbing in his head was growing steadily worse and he couldn't see out of his right eye. He had to find his way back to the camp, but was disoriented and didn't know which way to go. Suddenly, the skin on the back of his neck tingled with a sense of foreboding. Out of the corner of his left eye, he thought he saw a flash of blue light. Was that laughter he heard? Trying to slow down his heavy breathing, he prayed to his god to give him the strength to find his way back to the Roman camp. If his attackers found him, he knew they would kill him. Appearing out of nowhere, a pair of menacing yellow eyes floated in front of him. Whoosh. Large wings flapped too close to his head, ruffling his hair. He lost his balance, nearly falling. He kept walking in what he hoped was the right direction to the Roman camp when a sudden sharp pain tore through his head, bringing him to his knees. Looking up, he thought he saw the face of a goddess, illuminated by a single ray of moonlight, moments before the waves of darkness mercifully released him from the pain. *** His sleep was filled with disturbing images of mutilated warriors staring at him with red, glaring eyes. A mist wrapped around his legs like a thick vine preventing him from moving. Struggling to break free of the mist, he noticed a large shadow looming over him. The shadow enveloped him, squeezing the life from his body. Just when he thought he was going to die, the music entered his dream, waking him from the nightmare. Ambiorix had never heard such music before. It was enchanting, yet with a touch of sadness. Slowly he tried to open his eyes, but only his left eye would open. Candlelight flickered, sending shadows dashing up solid walls in an erratic dance.

He was lying in a bed of soft, clean animal pelts. Out of the corner of his one good eye, he could see someone sitting across the small room amid the dashing shadows. He must have made a noise because the music suddenly stopped; the melody cut off in mid-note. The person stepped out of the shadows. Her face looked familiar. The goddess of the forest was standing over him. His first thought was that he was dead. "How are you feeling?" she asked. Her voice was the soothing sound of water gliding over smooth, round stones. She spoke his mother's language. "Am I dead?" Groaning, he tried to sit up. "No, you are very much alive. Maybe you shouldn't sit up yet." She gently pushed him back down onto the soft bed. Her unbound hair brushed against his face. He couldn't help noticing that her long ravencolored hair smelled enticingly of wildflowers. "Where am I?" Ignoring the pain in his head, he glanced warily around the room, noticing that the solid walls were made out of clay. "You are in my home." She smiled at him reassuringly. He started to speak again, to ask about his eye, but he was suddenly overcome with fatigue and he lay back, falling into a deep sleep. ---Ambiorix awoke sometime later to find himself alone. At first he panicked, not remembering where he was. Then he remembered the lovely goddess/woman and relaxed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached up and discovered his right eye was heavily bandaged. Looking around with his one good eye, he noticed that not one ray of light entered the small cave-like room. Tallow candles, placed on a sturdy wood table, emitted a warm, inviting glow. He inhaled the earthy scent that permeated the room. Gazing upward, he noticed herbs and utensils neatly suspended from a branch placed along the ceiling, embedded into the clay wall. The only other items in the room were a wooden bench and an intricately carved chest. With his left hand he reached out, running his fingers along the smooth spiral design carved into the top of the chest. This design still decorated the rural areas of this island, a legacy left by his mother's ancestors. He heard the sound of someone entering the room and saw her climbing down a ladder, her gray cloak billowing out around her like wings. She smiled at him. "How are you feeling tonight?" "I...don't know. I need to..." He had an intense pressure in his bladder. Slowly he attempted to sit up, but the throbbing in his head forced him to lie back down. "No, you shouldn't get up yet." "But I need to..." He felt his face burn with embarrassment. "Oh." She picked up a clay water jug. "I will have to hold this for you. It's very heavy." She politely turned her head away. He relieved himself into the clay jar. When he finished, all he could manage was a weak, "Thank you" and once again, sleep overpowered him. *** The next time Ambiorix woke up, he was able to sit up and eat some stew. The nourishment made him feel much stronger. "You must be feeling better," she commented with a slight tilt of her head, golden flames from the tallow candles dancing in her lively green eyes. "Yes," he answered, savoring the last spoonful of the flavorful stew. "The stew was very good. Thank you." He smiled up at her. He thought he saw a blush color her cheeks. She took the empty bowl from him and quickly backed away into the shadows, nearly knocking a candle off the table. He smiled to himself, noticing the effect he was having on her. "You took a severe blow to the head. You are very lucky to be alive." She bent over him, changing the dressing on his wound. "I think your eye may heal, but you may not be able to see out of it for a while."

He was very aware of her presence. Her touch was like soft rose petals brushing against his skin. The scent of wildflowers nearly drove him mad with desire. He caught himself wondering what she looked like underneath the heavy cloak she wore. "Do you remember your name?" she asked. "Yes. Ambiorix. My full name is Gaius Suetonius Ambiorix. " "That is a strange name, but Ambiorix is in my language." He noticed how her green eyes were slanted like the eyes of a cat. "I was named for my uncle on my mother's side. She is of Celtic blood." She smiled. "Well, your mind wasn't damaged by the blow. That's a good sign. Do you remember how you were injured?" His eye clouded over with anger. "I was attacked by Caledonians. They are probably hunting for me now." "Cal...e...donians? What does that mean?" "The Romans call this whole land Caledonia." "Romans? Oh...yes. I have heard of them. Are you a...Roman?" "Yes." He looked at her with concern. "I may have put you in danger." "They won't look for you here." She turned away. He lightly touched her hand. She seemed a little startled by his gesture. "You are very brave to be helping me..." He paused, waiting for her response. She smiled, as if in understanding. "My name is Nemu." He smiled back at her. "A beautiful name. It fits you well." This time he was certain he saw a blush appear like two red rose petals pressed against her cheekbones. She quickly moved away busying herself at the table. "Do you live here alone?" He noticed how gracefully she moved around the small room. "Yes." "But don't you ever get lonely?" He thought he would go mad if he lived by himself in the forest. "No," she said thoughtfully, pausing from tidying up the table. "I have lived here all my life. I have the beauty of the forest and all its creatures to keep me company." He was so intrigued by her he almost forgot he needed to get back to the Roman camp. "How long have I been here?" He managed to slowly stand up, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling. "You have been here for three nights." She was at his side in an instant. "Here, let me help you." He used her shoulder for some support, noticing that she was very strong for a small woman. She helped him to sit on the bench. "I cannot thank you enough for helping me, Nemu. I will be leaving at daybreak." "Leave? You are not ready to leave yet." He thought he saw disappointment on her face in the candlelight when he mentioned leaving. "I must get back to the Roman camp." A sudden sharp pain tore through his head; a white haze filled his vision. He rolled off the bench onto the floor. "Are you hurt?" Nemu rushed to his side. As quick as the pain had come, it was gone. "No...my head..." She helped him up onto the bench. "Maybe you should lie down." "No. I'm just a little dizzy." A weak smile pulled at the corners of his lips; sweat filled the tiny lines on his forehead. Running his hands across his unshaven face, he said, "I hope I don't frighten you too much by my appearance." She smiled shyly at him. "No. You don't frighten me." Her eyes seemed to rest on his bare chest. Suddenly, he was aware of his half-nakedness. All he wore were the leather trousers that the cavalry wore to make riding astride a horse easier. She seemed to understand. Handing him his neatly folded tunic, she said, "I will go and fetch some water for you."

He pulled on the white linen tunic that he wore under his armor. The soft fabric was soothing against his skin. His linen shirt of scale and his sword belt were neatly piled in the corner of the small room. She was gone a long time. Too long, he thought. Ambiorix carefully climbed up the few steps to the entrance. It was dark, but the moon lit up the small clearing with a silver glow. He was about to step out when some movement off to the left caught his attention. Nemu was talking to a Caledonian! He looked like a druid by the white robes he wore. Ambiorix was astonished to see the druid kneel before her as if she were a queen. Was she in league with his

enemies? The druids were supposed to have been massacred at the battle of Mona Insula because they were a threat to Rome's rule. His father, Suetonius Paulinus, had led that particular battle. Ambiorix shivered, remembering the stories he had heard of that battle, how the druids had called to their gods to curse the Roman soldiers while women with flowing hair in their black death clothes ran between the battlelines shrieking like the Furies. Ambiorix had been at the second battle of Mona, and though most of those left at the druid stronghold were the weak and old he had still feared the curse as he swung his sword. He peered into the darkness and saw five Caledonian warriors waiting in the shadows. He climbed back down into the cave. He was much too weak to confront the warriors. Nemu finally returned with the water. Ambiorix said nothing to her. He watched her mix an awful smelling concoction. "I have something I have to do so I will need to leave you for a while." He sat back, crossing his arms. "Oh. Would that have something to do with my enemies I saw you talking to?" His voice held a touch of sarcasm. She sighed. "It's not what you think." "Isn't it?" "I help everybody no matter who they are; and they need my help now, thanks to you and your Romans." He ignored the obvious bitterness in her voice. "How do I know I can trust you?" "How do I know I can trust you? If I wanted you dead I would have left you to die in the forest." She started climbing out of the cave. "That's another thing I'm curious about. How did you manage to bring me here with no pony or cart of any kind?" She didn't answer him and in a blink she was gone. He scowled, but he was in no condition to follow her and she had a good argument. She could have left him to die. He had a lot of time to think while she was gone. He was determined to find out who this strange woman was and why she always wore a cloak. What was she hiding? *** Later, when she returned to the cave, he pretended to be asleep. He watched her lay down on the other side of the room. After making sure she was asleep, he crept over to her. Nemu slept peacefully, her goddess-like face looking so innocent to him. The cloak was wrapped tightly around her body. Holding a candle, Ambiorix slowly lifted the cloak to see what was underneath. Her eyes flew open. "Wh-what are you doing?" She fumbled with the cloak, trying to cover herself up, but it was too late. Large white wings protruded from just below her shoulder blades. He stumbled back in shock, the candle teetering in his hand. She must have seen the look of shock and disgust on his face because she looked down, ashamed of what he'd said. He slowly backed away from her. "Y-you are not human!" "My father was a human!" she shot back at him.

He continued to stare at her in disbelief. "Stay away from me." He grabbed his sword belt and armor, backing away toward the entrance. "Wait! At least let me guide you out of the forest." "No! I can make it on my own." "I know this forest. You need me if you want to make it out of here alive. You might fall into one of the deep valleys and there are beings in this forest that wouldn't treat you as nicely as I have." She shot him a look that told him she wouldn't take no for an answer. "We have to wait until twilight so Calgacus's warriors can't see us. You should get some more rest." He didn't argue with her. She was right. He had no idea how to get back to the Roman camp. He lay down, but he didn't sleep; and he kept his sword close to him. *** They were lucky to still have a full moon, but with the forest so dense only tiny silver rays were able to penetrate in a few chosen places. A light carpet of mist covered the ground, swallowing up his feet. Nemu led the way, claiming to have sharp night vision, and she warned him to stay close behind her. He refused to talk to her. His eyes bore into her back, fixating on the large white wings. She had tricked him into thinking she was human and he wasn't sure he could trust her. He had even been attracted to her and for some reason that bothered him more. His mother's people believed in such creatures as faeries and he remembered hearing stories as a young boy, but he never believed any of the stories. Strange bird-like sounds surrounded them and he thought he heard faint laughter. The strange sounds made him edgy, but Nemu appeared to be unaffected by the noises. She seemed to acknowledge some of the trees as she passed by them. Ambiorix looked up, but didn't see anything in the trees. He had no idea what she was doing. They walked in silence until the dark skies began changing to the deep periwinkle of pre-dawn. Nemu broke the silence. "We have to stop and wait out the sunlight." "Why? We can probably cover more ground when the sun rises." She turned to face him. "I'm a water faery, Ambiorix. Sunlight will melt me into a pool of water." "Well then, I guess we have to find shelter so you don't melt," he said, mocking her. Her lively green eyes took on a menacing look. He decided to keep quiet. Nemu found an area with dense bushes, forming a hollow, where she could hide from the sun. Without saying a word to her, Ambiorix hunted. Armed with only a dagger and some nugget-sized rocks, he was only able to catch one tiny squirrel. When he returned to their camp, Nemu wasn't there. A slight twinge of worry shot through him and then he remembered his anger at her. After skinning and gutting the animal, he built a small fire and cooked the squirrel, the succulent scent making his mouth water. Relief washed over him when she returned, but his face remained like stone, free of any emotion. He noticed that she had caught two large hares and three squirrels. He stared at her with dark, angry eyes while she ate. When she crawled into her cave of green, he was still staring at her. Ambiorix found a shady spot and a soft bed of pine needles to sleep on. The fragrant scent of the pine needles helped relax him. As the birds sang a welcome to the new day, sleep stretched its fingers into the far reaches of his mind. *** The next night, Ambiorix was in a bear of a mood. He had a fierce headache that stretched from the top of his head down the right side of his face and he felt like he hadn't slept a wink. He rubbed his hands through his hair in an effort to soothe the ache. To make matters worse, Nemu crawled out of her shelter humming a happy tune to herself. He thought he should ask her for something to ease the headache, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he glared at her. She stretched, gazing up at the clear night sky. "A lovely night, isn't it?" He grunted, turning away from her. "In a mood, are we?"

He ignored her comment. "Let's go." "Aren't you hungry?" "No." "Very well, but you might need your strength to climb down the mountain." "Climb down the mountain? Why did you bring me all the way up the mountain, you insufferable witch!" His head was pounding. "I knew I should have left you there to die, you ungrateful beast!" She stomped away. He took a deep breath and followed her, his gait unsteady. The moon had risen; a silver glow illuminated the rocky, downhill path. The plateau was barren except for the dark shrubs that grew from the cracks in the ancient craggy rocks. A dense forest stood far below, the tips of the massive trees just visible above one side of the path. Ambiorix was feeling dizzy so he was careful to stay away from the edge, keeping his left hand on the solid rock face. Having only one eye to see out of was making the situation worse, but he wasn't about to swallow his pride and ask for her help. Nemu ignored him, hovering above, humming softly to herself. Her humming fueled his anger. The tense silence between them hung in the air like a heavy stench. Nemu ended the silence. "We could travel faster if you would only let me carry you," she stated, anger coating her voice. "I can walk just as fast, and we could travel faster if you were able to move in sunlight." Ambiorix narrowed his eyes at her. "And can you please put those...things away?" He gestured toward her wings. She spread her wings, as if to annoy him, hovering above his head. He stumbled, cursing. Nemu giggled. Her laughter sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells. He stared up at her in disbelief. No woman had ever laughed at him! His anger grew. He shouted up at her while he tried to keep his balance. "I will not allow a woman, even a faery woman, to carry me!" She responded with more laughter. "I will not stand here and be ridiculed by you! Come down here now!" He stopped walking. "Say please and I might come down!" Ambiorix balled his hands into fists, scowling. "Please come down from there!" Nemu landed before him, arms crossed, moonlight casting a silver halo around her. "I am not one of your warriors that you can order around." She only came up to his chest, but her steely, unwavering gaze cut through him. Caught off guard, he was taken aback by her courage. "Why did you lie to me about what you were?" He towered over her, but she stood facing him, unflinching. "Lie to you? Is that what you think?" Her eyes glittered in the moonlight. "I only wished to heal your wounds without frightening or upsetting you." She spread her wings, lifting her face to the moon, "I cannot help what I am, but I am not ashamed of what I am." Ambiorix shrank before her, his anger suddenly gone. Nemu stood as if waiting for him to speak, but he was unable to voice the two words that hung plainly before him like a thick mist. She flapped her wings, taking off, but not before he saw the human tears that glistened in her eyes, spilling onto her cheeks. His heart ached and he felt ashamed. --Just before dawn, they found a spot to wait out the sunlight. A hidden glen revealed a small waterfall pouring into an inviting pool near a cave where Nemu could escape the sun. A light mist clung to the surface of the water. "I am going to find us some food," Ambiorix announced, hoping she wouldn't embarrass him again by proving that she was the better hunter. His headache had subsided somewhat to a dull throb and he wasn't about to let her do the hunting. Nemu answered him with a quick toss of her hair. "I think I will stay here," she said, eyeing the cool, clean water.

He stayed close to the glen. Standing quietly among the trees, he saw a large white hare venture out into the open. He carefully aimed his dagger, releasing it at just the right moment. The hare slumped to the ground. He carried the hare back to the glen, his shoulders squared, head held high. Upon entering the glen, he halted, surprised to see Nemu removing her clothes. He started to leave, but couldn't help himself. He had to look. The hare dropped to the ground, forgotten. Hidden behind bushes, Ambiorix admired her shapely body bathed in the blue gray light of dawn. She stepped out of her tunic and glided into the pool, wings flapping, silver droplets of water glistening on her body. Her body was so white she was almost transparent, shining like the surface of the moon. She resembled a sea ghost, a very beautiful sea ghost with lovely curves. He was spellbound. Desire welled up inside him. He had been taught that faeries were dangerous and not to be trusted, but Nemu didn't seem to be dangerous. She had saved his life. Her wings slowly rubbed together in silhouette, soft music floating into the air. One wing was slightly bent so the thin bones on the underside of her wing rubbed against the feathers creating a unique sound. So that was how she played her music, he thought, impressed by her unusual talent. The music called to him. She added some words to the music, "Come to me/ I wait here in the glen/ morning mist is rising/ come close, come take my hand." Her haunting voice opened some unknown door inside of him. He started to walk toward her when her song abruptly ended. He shook his head as if clearing a fog from his mind and picked up the hare. Sitting outside the cave, he cooked the hare. The juices crackled and sizzled. Nemu appeared and crawled into the cave just as the sun peeked over the horizon, sending golden fingers reaching through the treetops. "Nemu, would you like something to eat?" "It smells good. Will you bring me some?" He crawled into the cave. "Do you mind if I join you?" "If you so desire it, you may." Her long, slender fingers, with their long nails, resembled talons tearing at the tender meat. But those same hands had also tenderly healed his wounds. He was about to speak when an intense pain tore through his head. Groaning, he brought his hands up to his head. "Ambiorix, what is it?" "Ohhh...my head." She touched his head with her healer's hands. "Describe the pain." "It hurts like Hades! Ohhh!" "This Hades must be a terrible place. How long has it been hurting you like this?" "All night." She muttered something he couldn't understand and fumbled in her leather pack. "Lie down. I will be right back." "But...you can't go out there...what about the sunlight?" "I will be fine as long as I stay in the shadows." She threw on her cloak and carefully crawled out of the cave. She came back a little while later and gave him a hot potion to drink. He took a drink. His lips pinched together as if he had tasted a sour lemon. "It tastes horrible. It tastes like a...a tree." She watched him with an amused expression on her face. "Maybe that's because it is a tree...willow bark." He forced the bitter tea down his throat. "I think I am starting to feel better." "Good. Now maybe you can tell me why it took you so long to tell me about your headache. I can't believe how stubborn you are! Do I disgust you so much that you can't even talk to me?" He felt a warm flush spread across his face. "I...ah...you don't disgust me."

"Don't lie to me. I saw the way you looked at me when you saw what I was." "Well...the wings were quite a shock and...when I was a small boy I was told that faeries would visit bad children in the night and suck the life out of them." Tears filled her eyes. "You would think that of me after I rescued you and took care of you?" He looked down, ashamed of what he'd said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I was brought up in a completely different world. I didn't even know beings such as yourself existed." "Well, I'll have you know that humans are far from perfect. I was taught to fear them and their destructive ways." She narrowed her eyes at him. He was speechless. "Maybe you can answer this. Why are humans so destructive?" He recovered his senses, running his hand through his hair. "What? Why do you think we are destructive?" "You don't think killing innocent people and tearing down the forests is destructive?" "Well, no. I think of it more as expanding the Roman Empire. Rome is strong. The strong overpower the weak. That's the nature of all living things, isn't it?" "That still doesn't make it right. I will never understand that way of thinking." Anger flashed in her eyes. "My kind have been here for centuries, long before humans began destroying the forests and pushing us out of our homes." He reached over, touching her hand in a comforting way. "I...uh...know I haven't been very nice to you and I apologize for that. You saved my life and for that I am eternally grateful to you." He looked into her pain-filled eyes hoping to see them lively again. "I can't understand why anyone would want to destroy your kind." Nemu relaxed, leaning against the rock wall. "Tell me about your world, Ambiorix. I have been living in the forest for a very long time." "I haven't been home in a long time." He paused, trying to picture it in his mind. "I come from a place far to the south that lies near a great river. Large stone buildings as tall as the oldest trees fill the town. There are public bathhouses that are heated underneath the floor by furnaces. Mosaic tiles with many different colors and patterns decorate the floor. You can take a bath and if you want, someone will even wash your back." Nemu furrowed her brow. "But why would you want someone to bathe you?" He laughed. "It can be very relaxing to have someone rub your shoulders." "Oh. Tell me more." "There are marketplaces where people can sell their wares--fruit, wine, pottery, jewelry or clothing. You would probably like the villa my family owns not too far south of here. It is filled with gardens. Many different kinds of flowers grow there." He touched his bandaged eye. "I will probably go there after I am discharged." "Are there any forests?" "Not like this forest. Most of the forests have been cleared to build towns." She frowned. "It sounds like an ugly place." "It's not ugly!" "Why do they have to destroy the sacred forests?" "We've already talked about this." He tried to control his voice, but it came out sounding angry. "The forests have to be cleared to build the towns." "The Romans shouldn't force their ways on people." "Are we going to argue about this again?" She stared fiercely at him. He couldn't control his words. Nemu, like no other, could ignite his anger. "Look, I'm sorry that you're so upset, but maybe some people don't know what's really good for them." Her eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm going to get some sleep now."

She had removed her cloak and he couldn't help noticing that her tunic was pulled tight across her breasts. Her breasts weren't large. They were proportioned to her petite body, but he thought they were perfect because he would be able to easily cup them with his hands. His attraction to her was a mystery to him; she was so different from the refined Roman women he was accustomed to and yet there was some connection between them. She turned away from him, curling up into a ball, her large wings covering her body like a soft white blanket. He fought the urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. She was so childlike, so innocent and she had no idea of all the turmoil in the country with the Romans moving farther north. Soon her home in the forest would be destroyed and this thought bothered him more than he cared to admit. *** The next night was bright and clear. Tiny silver stars blinked like ice crystals in the darkening sky. They were almost at the bottom of the mountain. Rocks towered over them on either side of a path that narrowed just ahead. Nemu went first. They walked slowly, cautiously. It was almost too quiet, Ambiorix thought, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He kept his hand near his sword. "Ambiorix, don't move." Nemu had her eyes fixed on something in front of her that he couldn't see. "Now, follow me." She pulled him behind a large tree. His back was against the tree trunk and she stood facing him, her body pressed up against him. "What did you see?" "Calgacus's warriors." "Can we go around them?" He was so close to her he could feel the rapid beating of her heart echoing inside his own chest and he could feel her breasts pressed against his mid-section. His face was touching her soft, sweet, flower- scented hair. A pleasant warm feeling came over him and he found himself, to his horror, getting aroused. "No. That's the only safe way off the mountain. Deep gorges are all over this area." "How many are there? I can fight them." "No. You are in no condition to fight, but I can distract them for you." Her warm breath smelled sweet like fresh rain. "Then this is where we say goodbye." He suddenly had the urge to take her into his arms. He bent down and kissed her. Her lips tasted sweet like honey. She didn't pull away from him. "Uh, I...I'm sorry if I..." He could feel her heart beating faster. "I...I should be going now. May the gods smile upon you, Ambiorix." He hesitated, knowing he probably wouldn't see her again. "Nemu, thank you for everything you have done for me." "Count to twenty and then move quickly. Your Roman camp shouldn't be too far from here." She was gone in a blink, wings flapping, the dark night enveloping her in its arms. He waited twenty seconds, then moved quickly through the trees, sword at the ready. He didn't see anyone until the Roman camp came into view, the familiar leather tents a welcome sight. "Halt. Identify yourself or die." The guard raised his weapon. "It's Ambiorix." The guard rushed over to him. He thought he saw the shadow of a large white owl fly near the trees at the edge of the camp, but he knew better. He thought he could see her face shining in the trees like a tiny moon. 'I will never forget you, Nemu,' he thought. Weakness overwhelmed him and he stumbled. Guards surrounded him and he lost sight of her, but he knew she was still there watching over him. He also knew she would be gone by morning and this thought filled his heart with sadness. Chapter Two Nemu

Thunder roared, shaking the earth, and a brilliant flash of lightning lit up the forest. Large raindrops splattered onto the forest floor, falling from the treetops that spread like great war-shields across the sky. Nemu opened her mouth, trying to catch the raindrops on her tongue. She loved the rare thunderstorms because they created thick clouds that covered the deadly sunbeams. But this particular storm carried with it something else--a warning. She sensed, no she knew, the Romans were getting closer. Her home, her forest, was in danger. The Romans were like a spring storm--except that they weren't just passing through. They were here to stay. Fresh droplets of rain slid down her neck and underneath her tunic. The cold water slithered across her breasts, raising her tender nipples. A shiver coursed through her body, down to her groin. It was the same feeling she had when she was near the Roman warrior, Ambiorix. Her lips tingled when she remembered the kiss they shared the night he left her. She sighed. Troubling thoughts filled her mind. She felt alone. It had been a very long time since she felt alone. This made her think of her father. He had been gone for many years. Fond memories of him came floating back to her. He had been fishing and he accidentally captured Nemu's mother in his fishing net. They fell in love, but her mother eventually returned to the water along with the rest of her kind, the Ashrays. Nemu stayed with her father. She chose to remain on the surface, her human half craving the feel of earth beneath her feet and the silver rays of the moon upon her face. He taught her how to survive in the forest. "My little Nemu," he said, "you must never leave this forest. Other humans are not like me. They don't understand anyone who is different. And you are a very special child." He had smiled down at her, patting the top of her head. Fresh tears sprang to Nemu's eyes as she re-lived those memories. She had lived among humans before, but that had been a long time ago and she had lived in solitude until Ambiorix came into her life about six moons ago. When she first gazed upon his face, she had felt a strange fluttering in her heart. He had looked so innocent and peaceful lying injured on the forest floor. She had ignored her instinct to just leave him to die in the forest. She didn't trust most humans, especially strangers, and the unusual armor he wore looked Roman to her. She never cared for Romans. But she had sensed something special about him and she couldn't leave him there to die. Forgetting him wouldn't be easy. She remembered how she felt when she heard his voice for the first time. His voice was very masculine, deep and resonating. It didn't match his boyish face at all. The sound of his voice made her feel all tingly and warm inside. She thought of his undamaged eye, how it was like the different layers of water, changing from a light shade of blue to dark green when he was angry. She smiled, fondly remembering the hard muscles that covered his body and the cute dimple on his chin. He had been so arrogant and stubborn, but he had opened up a doorway inside her, awakening emotions that had been dormant for a very long time. She knew he had felt something, too, in the way he had kissed her goodbye. Each night she dreamed of him looking lovingly at her with his eyes that were as expressive as a bard's eyes and his strong warrior hands holding her and touching her in her secret places. Closing her eyes, she began to doze off, the soft dripping rain and the steady rhythm of cricket song comforting her troubled mind. The storm was moving away, the thunder a distant rumble. She opened her eyes and witnessed purple beams streaming downward through the thick canopy of trees as the sun set through the remnants of storm clouds. She inhaled the fresh clean air that a storm always leaves in its wake and relaxed, closing her eyes again to the soft lull of cricket song. Suddenly the crickets stopped singing and the ground began to shake. Nemu spread her large wings, taking to the air, landing high on a tree branch. Her long, sharp nails burrowed into the slippery bark. She looked in the direction of the loud noise and saw them. A line of soldiers marched in a perfect row, hacking their way through the forest. Dusk was settling in, but Nemu's sharp night vision made it possible for her to see the uniforms that looked like Ambiorix's.

Romans! They were too close to her home. Never would she have imagined that the Romans would expand so far north. She felt a small pang of guilt at this thought. An uneasy feeling washed over her and she began to shake. She didn't feel safe anymore. Maybe it was time she left the forest to see what the rest of the world was like now. She could pass for a human if she wore a cloak and maybe she could find Ambiorix. Finding him wouldn't be that difficult. She would find the place with many gardens filled with many kinds of flowers. How hard could that be? *** Sometimes the wings annoyed her. She had to cut holes in her tunics to accommodate the oversized membranous extensions. But now wasn't one of those times. Now she was grateful to have wings to carry her across this unfamiliar land. She felt too exposed. The forest here was sparse and she didn't hear the soothing, familiar songs of the tree faeries. Round structures were visible in clearings, dotted along the ground below her. Little white puffs of smoke floated out of holes in the top of them. She knew little about humans, but she thought these might be farmsteads because the smell of animal dung assaulted her sensitive nose. She didn't know what the animals were, but they huddled together, dark figures illuminated by the starlit sky. It had been a long time since she'd had close contact with humans. Ever since that time long ago when she became involved with the druids of Gaul, she shied away from human contact. She had limited contact now with the druids that traveled with Calgacus. They were the only humans that didn't fear her--except for Ambiorix. She wondered what other humans outside the forest were like now. She flew on, eager to find answers to her questions. The spring night was clear and calm. She sensed no danger. Occasionally an owl would send a low "hoohoo" her way as if in greeting to a fellow winged creature. Mother Earth seemed to hold her breath in the moments before the Otherworld god released the orange circle of light. Then the stillness would be broken by a cacophony of birdsong. Nemu was still amazed at this mystical time between times. She watched the first golden rays creep over the horizon like flames licking at the edge of a fire pit. The wondrous sight always filled her heart with joy even if its arrival brought danger to her. She knew this ball of light gave life to the earth. Quickly she ducked into an old barn before the sun completed its journey into the sky. Piles of old, musty straw littered the ground and gossamer webs glittered like starlight, illuminated by the small rays of light squeezing through holes in the deteriorating wood. Nemu found a dark corner, curled up under her wings and fell into a deep sleep. She awoke sometime later to the sound of laughter outside the barn. Quickly she grabbed her leather pack, pulling out her cloak. She wrapped herself in the cloak and peeked through one of the holes, careful to pick one that faced away from the sun. The brightness of daylight nearly blinded her at first. As her eyes adjusted, she saw what she thought was a small human playing with something that looked like a human figurine made out of straw. This strange being was wearing a plain brown tunic and its fine blonde hair was plaited into a braid. Was this a human child? She had never seen a human child in daylight before. It had the small physical structure of a faery, but this was no faery. She thought this might be a female, the small features delicate like her own. The small human stopped playing and seemed to stare right at her. Nemu had made no sound. 'How could she know I am here?' she thought. Smiling, the small human skipped toward the barn. Nemu started to panic, then relaxed, thinking this would be a good time to see if she could pass for human again. "Hello? Is there a faery in here?" The voice was soft, feminine. Nemu was startled by the question, but out of curiosity, she stepped out of the shadows, careful to stay out of the beams of sunlight. "Why do you think that?"

The small human shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I just had a feeling. You look human, but you're not, are you?" Her eyes were filled with wonder, no hint of fear. The straw figurine dangled from one small hand. Nemu didn't know what to say. Could she trust this human? Upon closer inspection, she saw that the human's delicate features were smooth, unlined. A smudge of dirt darkened her slightly upturned nose. Nemu knew when humans grew old, lines appeared on their faces and their skin became course like tree bark. This was, indeed, a human child standing before her. "I knew there were still some faeries around here, but most of them have gone...there are too many people driving them away...but now you are here and I can't believe it!" She chattered on and on, excitement in her voice. Nemu stared at her in amazement. She knew some humans could see faeries, but this human had sensed her. "Can you keep a secret?" The child bobbed her head up and down, the long braid bouncing from shoulder to shoulder. "I am a water faery." "A water faery? Shouldn't you be in the water?" Nemu smiled. "My mother was a water faery, but my father was human. Like you." The child's eyes lit up. "Could I be a faery, too?" Nemu laughed. "Well, I don't know." She decided to play along with her. "Come here and let me see if your ears are pointed like mine." Nemu pretended to study her ears. "Hmmm. They look a little pointed. Yes, you could be part faery." The child jumped up and down, clapping her hands. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. "I knew it! I knew it!" "Now, you can't tell anyone what I am. It's a secret." "No one would believe me anyway. No one believes me when I say I see faeries." A frown distorted her delicate freckled face. Nemu spoke softly. "You have a special gift. Not everyone can see faeries like you can." This brought a smile to the child's face. "What is your name?" "Ceri," the girl answered shyly. "Ceri. Now if you can keep my secret, I will tell you about some faeries that I know and I can tell you how to find them." Ceri nodded. Nemu held out her hand. "Come sit over here, Ceri." They faced each other. "Tree faeries are the most common faeries and the most helpful to humans. They prefer willow trees and they can be found during a full moon. But, be careful. Tree faeries like to play tricks. But if you can get to know these faeries, they can teach you tree magic and how to see into the future." Ceri's eyes were wide with wonder. Nemu continued. "You may not understand all of that now, but you will. And you must be aware that not all faeries are good. Some may try to harm you. Always remember you can protect yourself from a faery with a piece of iron." Nemu couldn't imagine any faery trying to harm this innocent child, but there were faeries with bad intentions toward humans. "Iron?" Ceri asked. "Yes. Anything made out of metal like a farm tool, cooking pot, or dagger." "Like a horseshoe?" Nemu looked confused. "I didn't know horses wore shoes." Ceri giggled. Nemu turned red. "Ceri, maybe you can explain some things to me. I have been living alone in the forest too long. You can start by telling me what horseshoes are." They talked until the shadows began to deepen, creeping across the floor like approaching storm clouds. "Cerrriii!" an older female voice called, echoing across the meadow.

Ceri jumped to her feet. "I have to go now." Nemu walked her to the doorway. "Good-bye Ceri. Remember our secret." Ceri nodded. "Will you be here tomorrow?" Her eyes looked hopeful. "No, I will be leaving at sunset." She hated to see disappointment on the child's face. "But if I come back this way, I will be sure to stop and see you." Ceri brightened. She turned, waving good-bye. Nemu watched her skip across the meadow, clutching in her arms the straw figurine that Ceri called a doll. She watched until Ceri disappeared behind the crest of a hill. --She waited for darkness, then left the barn to continue her journey. Freeing her wings from the stifling cloak, she stretched before taking flight. It felt refreshing to be outside after being in the musty old barn all day. The fresh smells of spring cleared her head. Passing a stand of trees, Nemu caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. She smiled. The unmistakable song of a tree faery found its way to her ears. She decided to meet this particular tree faery. Maybe she could have her future told. The moon bathed the land in a silver glow. She was painfully aware that it was during a full moon when she parted ways with Ambiorix. She tried to follow the light, but the light would disappear, then reappear in another tree. Nemu knew this was one of the tricks they liked to play. She turned her head and flew away as if to leave the grove. This ploy seemed to work because the tree faery showed herself in the tree in front of her. Nemu came to a stop, hovering. "You are one of us, but you are also human," the shimmering light stated matter-of-factly. "My mother was Ashray," Nemu said, trying to sense the intentions of this tree faery. "Your mother had a weakness for humans? Ashrays don't normally care for humans. That is strange indeed." The tree faery regarded Nemu with a slight tilt of its shimmering head. "I find it strange that you are the only tree faery I have seen since I left my home in the mountains," Nemu responded coolly. "My, you are a spirited one aren't you?" The tree faery laughed, its shimmering body swaying with the sound. Her laughter died away, her mood growing somber. "There aren't many of us left here, but I refuse to leave. This has been my home for many seasons." Nemu continued to hover, remaining silent. The tree faery seemed to regard her curiously. "Why have you left your home, half-ling?" Nemu was beginning to regret her decision to meet this faery. "I grew tired of living in the same forest," she responded, not wanting to share the truth. The tree faery reached out and a stream of blue light resembling lightning struck Nemu's arm. She felt the jolt of energy rush through her body, almost sending her crashing to the ground. Flapping her wings, she regained altitude. "You could have warned me first." Nemu cast a look of displeasure toward the tree faery. The tree faery laughed mischievously. "What do you see, tree faery?" "You won't like what I have to tell you," the tree faery taunted her. "Tell me!" "You should return to your home." The shimmering light flitted from tree branch to tree branch moving in a zigzag pattern. Nemu followed the light anticipating its next move. She flew ahead, landing on the branch just before the shimmering light appeared before her. Peals of amused laughter filled the air. "Very good!" Nemu glared at her. "I like you, half-ling. You have a strong spirit, but it is weakened by love. Your human lover is bound by duty and so must take another. You should heed my warning and return to your home." The

shimmering image began to fade away, breaking into tiny streams of blue light. "Farewell..." Her voice seemed to come from a distance. Nemu was alone in the suddenly cold night. "No. That can't be. I won't give up and go home," she whispered to the empty tree branch. She moved on, spying a black pool. The black depths called out to her and she landed, standing before the gently rippling water. Reflected on the water's surface was a human, the large wings hidden in the deep shadows behind her. Nemu reached out with her hand, breaking the image, the illusion gone. She wouldn't allow herself to feel self-pity, a weak human emotion. The tree faery had been playing games with her. "If Ambiorix can't accept me as I am, then so be it," she whispered, gazing upward, the white moon goddess caressing her with soft beams of light like tender kisses. She could have used enchantment to make him stay with her. The power was within her to do so, but she wanted him to love her by his own will, not by the illusion of magic. Removing her clothes, she stepped into the water. Instantly, she felt her troubled thoughts fade away. Floating aimlessly, weightless, she closed her eyes, relaxing her tired muscles. The only sound was the soft lapping of the gentle waves against the sandy shore. A part of her still needed water, though she couldn't bring herself to exist only in it.

Like her mother. She felt close to her mother when she was in the water. The cool, clean smell reminded her of the scent that had clung to her mother's skin. As if embracing her, the water swirled around her. She wanted to linger in her moon bath, but she needed to travel a little further before sunrise. Emerging from the pool, she flapped her wings, spraying droplets all around. She dressed, then sat on a smooth rock to comb out her long hair. The fish bone comb was her mother's. She ran her fingers over the smooth, bleached edges, remembering an image she had of her mother sitting in the moonlight, running the comb through her own long raven hair. She placed the precious comb inside the small leather pouch she wore on her belt. The sound of a snapping twig startled her and she saw the shadow move from behind, but it was too late for her to escape. A large course sack dropped over her body, trapping her. While cursing her inattention, she struggled with her unseen captor and tried to find her magic voice, but a blow from behind sent her spinning down a long dark tunnel. Chapter three Ambiorix Ambiorix was sure he was in the right place. The small clearing and pond were there, but he couldn't find the familiar mound of earth where Nemu lived. He paced around like an anxious wolf, finally giving up and sitting on a rock that faced the pond. It was springtime, but here in the mountains the air was crisp and a shiver coursed throughout his body. He pulled his woolen cloak up and tight around his shoulders. His hand traced the scar that started at the top of his forehead and ran through his right eye, ending at his cheekbone. The vision in his right eye was still blurry, which prevented him from continuing his service in the military. Ambiorix had earned his command unlike the other tribunes who only took the military posts to help them gain political awareness and respect so they could earn a quaestorship, an entry level seat in the Senate. He had taken his position seriously, learning all he could about the province and battle strategies. As a student he had studied the writings of Julius Caesar and the Gallic wars, dreaming of the day he would command a Legion. In addition to his administrative duties as a tribune, he had used his free time to practice battle skills on horseback. Some of the other tribunes were amused by his actions, but Agricola commended him for his initiative and was very impressed with his newly acquired skills. Agricola requested that Ambiorix command a cavalry unit. He had proved himself worthy at the second battle of Mona Insula and again at Mons Graupius, even earning an award, a Corona Civica,

for saving another soldier's life in battle. But now his military career was over. Letting out a sigh, he thought of his comrades. Life as a civilian was still strange to him. He had been given an honorable discharge, which included a large sum of money and a governor's post if he wanted it. As a Roman citizen, and the son of an important Roman official, he was given special consideration different than the auxiliaries that were under his command. Auxiliaries were soldiers from different provinces and not entitled to money. Instead, they were given Roman citizenship, immunity from taxation and the opportunity to hold a municipal office after serving twentyfive years in the military. The money he received was used to fix up the family villa just north of Eboracum, in the Brigante territory of northeastern Britannia, near the border of the Selgovae and the Votadini tribes. He would run a remount depot there. It was a remote part of Britannia covered in trees and mist. 'Nemu would have loved it,' he thought regrettably. Thin streams of mist swirled over the surface of the water, the full moon's reflection undulating on the smooth surface. Small rustling sounds erupted from the bushes near him. He gripped his sword. He knew it was dangerous to be here alone at night, but he had to see her again, had to know for certain if his feelings were true. But he had arrived too late. She was gone. Emptiness, like a dark void, filled his heart. The Romans had probably driven her away when they had moved further north and built the new legionary fortress. Sitting for a while, staring at the pond, he watched three small waterfalls, silver blue in the moonlight, gliding through crevasses off the barren plateau and into the pond. He imagined Nemu with wings spread, bathing naked in the moonlight. How he longed to run his hands over her shapely breasts and her small rounded buttocks. He thought that maybe he had imagined her. The blow to his head might have played with his mind. No, he was convinced she had been real. He could still smell the wildflowers on her skin and hair, but like a dream, she was just within his grasp and when he reached for her, she was gone. Gone to where he would probably never find her again. He had no idea where she could have gone. He knew nothing about her, about her past, only that she was kind, gentle, and very passionate about her beliefs. He had to smile when he thought of how her green eyes sparkled with anger when she spoke out about the destruction of the forests. Too late he had realized that he was in love with her and it would take some time to forget her. But he didn't think he could forget her. Ever. Slowly he stood, took a last long look around, and vaulted onto his horse. The new Roman fortress was about a day and a half away. He would travel for a while and then rest until morning. He was careful to stay on the path and clear of the deep gorges that Nemu had warned him about. An odd feeling came over him. The moonlight, the trailing silver mist within the shadows, the strange sounds of faint laughter all seemed a part of him now. --The massive Roman legionary fortress was hidden in the trees on the East bank of the Tay River. Pinnata Castra, which meant "Fortress on the Wing," was positioned at one of the main routes in and out of the Highlands, and additional forts were built further north and south at the mouth of each nearby glen. High stone-walls with an outside ditch and gatehouses on either side, served as defenses against an attack. The fort covered at least fifty acres, housing six thousand men. Along with the general's quarters and tribune's quarters, there was a hospital, headquarters building, granaries, soldier's barracks, a workshop and an officer's club. A bathhouse was constructed on the outside of the fortress near the river. Ambiorix wondered to himself how many trees had been destroyed to build the great fortress, Pinnata Castra. Before he met Nemu, he never would have given any thought to the destruction of trees.

He had fought for and still would die for Rome if he had to, but for the first time he felt himself doubting what Rome stood for. What was he thinking? Rome was the greatest power in the world--undefeated. Had the faery woman bewitched him? He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Across the river, a group of soldiers erected matching stone altars on either side of the bridge leading to the fortress. A trident with a fish wrapped around it was carved into the stone--a tribute to the God of the sea, Neptune, to ensure the continued flow of much-needed water. Dust clouds, kicked up by his horse and the other supply wagons traveling the main road into the fortress, floated up into his eyes, causing them to water. He wiped his eyes, seeing the fortress gates looming before him like the gates to Hades. General Agricola had summoned him and Ambiorix made a promise that he was expected to honor. The stone bathhouse stood just outside the gates on the west side of the main road leading into the fortress. The bathhouse seemed to beckon him with its promise of cleanliness and relaxation. After sitting astride a horse for most of the day, his muscles were screaming for release and the smell of leather and sweat filled the air around him. Ambiorix decided that a bath seemed like a good idea before calling on Agricola. He entered through a grandiose portico and into the apodyterium, or changing room, where he undressed and placed his clothes in one of the niches provided to store belongings. Soldiers crowded into the apodyterium. The bathhouse was one of the few comforts for a weary, dusty soldier stationed on the northern frontier. He passed some soldiers that were playing a game of dice. Other soldiers sat around drinking and talking. Ambiorix nodded to another group of soldiers he knew as they exited the bathhouse. The public latrines were located in a room to the right. He passed this room and entered the frigidarium, or cold room. On the right side was a cold plunge bath. He took a quick dip into the unheated water to wash off the road dust. This bathhouse had four rooms plus a furnace room and an area for cisterns that held the water. It was a small bathhouse by comparison to the ones in the large cities, but the white columns holding up the high ceiling were enormous, and what seemed like miles of colorful mosaic tiles, supported by frescoed sky blue walls, surrounded the clear pool. In a niche on the far wall sat a statue of the goddess, Fortuna, the goddess of good fortune. He hoped the goddess would grant him good fortune, blessing his pending meeting with Agricola. In a larger bathhouse, there would be additional rooms to the four basic ones. There might be a palestra, or large central courtyard used as an exercise yard, or a laconicum, a dry heat room. Ambiorix entered the tepidarium, or warm room, to rub oil on his skin. The pleasant dry heat was very relaxing. On the right wall was a double- glazed window with shutters that could be left open or closed to help regulate the temperature. Ambiorix sat on the smooth wooden bench and rubbed oil over his skin to prepare for the caldarium, or hot room. Then he put on thick wooden sandals so he wouldn't burn his feet when he entered the caldarium because the walls and floors would be very hot. The caldarium was very humid. Sweat pooled on his skin and dripped down his chest. He drank from the stone fountain of cold water, or labrum, and let the cool water run down his chin. At the center of the fountain was a mosaic depicting the head of the mythical Medusa. The coiled snakes on top of her grotesque head seemed to lash out at him, fangs bared. He stared upward at arched pillars and white colonnades. On either side of the room were two recessed areas that held plunge pools filled with hot water heated by an underground furnace. The furnace heated the boilers that supplied hot water and hot air for circulation under the flooring and through cavities inside the walls. Voices and splashes echoed around the tiled floors and mosaic-clad walls. Ambiorix wasn't in a mood to socialize. He wanted to relax and think about his pending meeting with Agricola. "May I?" Ambiorix turned to see a dark slave girl. He made no effort to cover his nakedness. Slave girls were common in the bathhouses. She lowered her eyes, as she was trained to do, so as not to openly stare at him. She looked like she could be from one of the Celtic tribes in Caledonia. He felt a twinge deep within his chest when he realized she bore a striking resemblance to Nemu with her long raven hair

and slanted cat's eyes. The timid girl held a strigil, or scraper, in her small hand, patiently waiting for his reply. "Yes. You may." He sat while she scraped the oil, sweat and dirt from his body. His skin tingled with every stroke of the scraper. Once his skin was clean he plunged into the hot bath. The hot water was soothing to his sore muscles. He closed his eyes, allowing his body to float. More voices echoed through the vast room as a new group of men entered. "Ambiorix!" He looked up and saw Marcus. He acknowledged his old friend with a smile. Marcus grew impatient with the slave girl. "Hurry up!" The girl quickened her pace with the scraper, accidentally catching it on Marcus' elbow. The scraper fell, landing on the tile floor, with a loud clank. She bent over to pick it up. One of the men standing near Marcus took this opportunity to have some fun with her by rubbing his naked body against her bent head. When she lifted her head, Ambiorix could see tears shining in her eyes. Marcus and the man burst into mischievous laughter. Ambiorix's face turned red with anger, but he held back from grabbing the disrespectful man and shoving his head under the water. "Don't mind those two beasts. They are more at home in a barn." The girl smiled shyly and finished her work. Marcus slid under the water near Ambiorix, eyeing his friend with suspicion. "Beasts, are we? Since when do you guard the honor of slave girls?" Ambiorix frowned. "She is only a child, Marcus. If he touches her again, I'll show him what it's like to be humiliated." "A little harsh, don't you think? Are you sure you are feeling well?" "I'm fine." "I think you are being too soft on these people. They are below us--or have you forgotten your training?" "I have forgotten nothing!" Ambiorix's voice echoed inside the large room. Marcus backed away, a surprised look on his face. Ambiorix ignored the curious glances from the other men nearby. He couldn't tell his friend the truth, but he didn't want to lose his friend either. "I'm sorry, Marcus, it's just that I haven't been myself since Mons Graupius." "I understand. You suffered a great injury. You are lucky to be alive." Marcus smiled reassuringly, his dark eyes somber. "You should visit the temple. Maybe that will help you to clear your mind." Ambiorix relaxed, resting his head against the ledge of the pool. The hot water helped to loosen his tense muscles. He looked at Marcus. His friend looked concerned. "Maybe you're right. I will visit the temple on my way home." *** The guards recognized him and waved him on through the gates. He stayed on the main roadway, or via principalis, which would take him to the praetorium, the General's quarters. On the main road he passed barracks on either side and on the right was a u- shaped building that looked like the officer's club. The fortress was bustling with activity. Workers hurried about trying to complete the barracks at the rear of the fortress and lines of wagons marched in and out, dropping off their loads of timber. Straight ahead was an imposing whitewashed building with bright red roof tiles. The headquarters building was a very important administrative and religious center. He entered the gate into a colonnaded courtyard where religious ceremonies and sacrifices took place. On either side of the courtyard were the armories and beyond these rooms was a long hall with a raised platform at one end, from which the commanding officer would address the troops. A sudden feeling of melancholy washed over him as he gazed at the platform, remembering the inspiring pre-battle speeches that he would no longer hear and the battles he would no longer be a part of. Along the rear of the courtyard were five rooms. The center room held the shrine to the gods, the valuable battle standards of the Legio XX Valeria Victrix and a statue of the emperor, Domitian.

Through the window he caught a glimpse of the silver legionary battle standard with the Eagle of Rome and the Legio XX standard with the emblem of the running boar. Disgrace would befall a legion if their standards, especially the legionary eagle, should fall into enemy hands. For a moment his senses tingled with the empowering spirit of the shrine room and then it shriveled away inside of him, shrinking into nothingness. Below the shrine room was the closely guarded strong room, an underground chamber where sacks of coins to pay the soldiers were kept. The other four rooms were used for administrative work of the regiment. On the right side of the courtyard was a corridor leading to the legionary commander's quarters. Work had not yet begun on the commander's quarters, so two large round tents stood where the living quarters would be. When completed the lavish quarters befitting a man of such power and respect would be arranged around a courtyard with a dining room at the back, bath-suites, latrines, a kitchen, one wing for family and another for servants. A garden had already been planted at the rear. Exotic flowers and plants surrounded numerous fountains and paths. Ambiorix spotted the General outside working in the garden. Bright golden afternoon light spilled onto the surreal scene. He took a deep breath before approaching Agricola. "Ah, Ambiorix. I have been expecting you." General Agricola, dressed in the traditional Roman toga, was strolling through the garden pruning roses. He held a single red rose in his hand. It was a strange sight to Ambiorix. "The rose represents love, beauty, immortality..." Agricola pricked his finger on a thorn, never flinching. "...Blood and sacrifice." He turned to look at Ambiorix with his piercing dark eyes. The general was a head shorter than Ambiorix, but even without his battle armor and holding a delicate rose in his hand, Agricola was still an imposing man. "I believe the rose is also like the enemy--innocent on the outside, but once your guard is down they draw blood on you," Ambiorix added. Agricola nodded. "Like the Caledonians. If I had more time, I could break their will under the sword of Rome. They are stubborn and fierce. Much like a woman!" He let out a short laugh. "I can't disagree with that, General." "Which brings me to why I sent for you, Ambiorix. As you probably already know, Domitian has called me back to Rome. I wanted to speak with you before I left." Ambiorix nodded. He knew what was coming next and it made him cringe inside. "Valeria asks about you and why you haven't been to Rome to see her. There isn't a problem is there? I hope you aren't breaking your promise to my niece." His dark eyes watched Ambiorix, unwavering. They strolled through the garden. A large white butterfly landed on a fountain with a statue of the Roman god of the sea, Neptune, naked except for a loincloth. He stood arrogantly in the center of the fountain holding his powerful three- pronged spear, the trident. He could command the seas from calm to earth- shaking waves with one stab of his trident. Agricola wielded nearly as much power as the God of the Sea. Ambiorix knew he had to choose his words carefully. "I didn't want her to see me until I had healed; and I have been preparing the villa for her." He couldn't say what was really on his mind, that all he thought about was a faery woman named Nemu. "I understand, but perhaps you should visit her very soon. Her father wanted her to marry someone in the Senate, but I persuaded him otherwise. Since your father was a very good friend of mine, I agreed to look out for you, but I don't wish to be made a fool." Ambiorix nodded. There was no way out for him without upsetting one of Rome's most powerful families. "I am grateful for everything you have done for me, sir." "I heard you have been appointed to run the remount depot near Eboracum." "Yes. I decided to stay here in Britannia. Now that I can no longer serve Rome in the military, I can at least keep her provided with the best mounts." Agricola frowned. "It's a shame. You had a promising military career, but you still could have a promising political career. You don't wish to sit on the Senate?"

"No, sir. I do not." Ambiorix held his breath, expecting the general to be very displeased with his decision. He was a soldier and had no desire to sit on the Senate and have to listen to the constant prattling of political rhetoric. "Your father would have approved and I was hoping for more for my only niece." The General's piercing gaze did not flinch. Ambiorix stood his ground. He would keep his promise to marry Valeria, but he wasn't about to leave Britannia. "I'm afraid I don't share my father's ideals. And as for Valeria, she will live in the finest villa and she will have all the servants she desires. I promise to take very good care of her." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence; then Agricola replied, "Hmmm. Perhaps you could be useful here living among the Britons...make sure everything is being done to sway these people away from their barbarian ways. I will put in a good word for you back in Rome." "Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer," Ambiorix added. "You could go far in politics." Agricola shook his head, but he was smiling, his dark eyes softening. "Come, let's drink a toast to you and Valeria, and to your bright future together." Ambiorix followed the general inside one of the large tents that was lavishly decorated in fine embroidered tapestries. Some of the tapestries hung on the walls and some separated the sleeping quarters from the reclining area. He knew he should be happy. He had known Valeria since they were children growing up in Rome and she had grown into a very lovely young woman, but bewitched or not, all he thought of was Nemu. --Ambiorix had first embraced the Mithras religion as a young soldier seeking courage in battle. Now, maybe he would find courage for the uncertainties that lay ahead. He remembered how he had been drawn to Mithraism because of the cult's emphasis on truth, honor and courage, and its demand for discipline appealed to him as well. In battle, he saw himself as the Light and the enemy as the Darkness that needed to be transformed into light or destroyed by his sword of justice. Most of his fellow soldiers also embraced this ideal and every battle began with the powerful chant of "Invictus," a title given to Mithras, meaning "for victory." The Mithras temple was located outside the fortress walls of Eboracum. The small, windowless rectangular stone and timber building looked forbidding. He stood before the entrance to the underground temple, mentally preparing himself for the tests. He had already passed three of the seven grades: Raven, Bridegroom, and Soldier. Each grade had tested his physical endurance as well as mental and each one involved a different element. Today he would have to endure fire. Slowly he walked down the stone steps into darkness. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. He carefully walked down the narrow center aisle. An initiate greeted him. "Sol Invictus." "Sol Invictus, Brother." The smell of incense was powerful, numbing. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat almost choking him. Achieving the next level would take a lot of concentration and strength. He took a deep breath to help prepare for the ritual. From across the room, he felt the heat of a large fire burning in a center pit. Perspiration gathered on his flesh. Stripped naked, he was made to sit on a cold stone bench near the flaming pit. Others joined him. The initiates sat motionless and in silence while flames whipped dangerously close to them. The fire seared his skin, but he directed his thoughts elsewhere and soon became numb to the pain. He noticed how the flames seemed to come alive, swaying back and forth in a lively dance. When the flames parted, Ambiorix saw the sculpture depicting the sun god, Mithras, holding in his upraised hands the Sword of Truth and Torch of Light as he prepared to slay the bull. Ambiorix focused on the sculpture, thinking about the legend of Mithras and the significance of the slaughter of the bull to help him pass the time, and endure the unbearable heat. It was believed that the Persian Mithras was created from an egg by the power of good, Ahuramazda. From Mithras' slaughter of the bull, which was the first living creature, came the harvest of nature. When the bull was

slaughtered, its life force was released for the good of humanity. From the bull's body grew useful plants and herbs, from its blood came the vine, and from its semen all useful animals. Mithras became known as the "regenerator of life." He guarded the first human against evil and was rewarded by being taken up to heaven in the chariot of the Sun. Ambiorix imagined himself as Mithras, emerging from the egg and slaughtering the bull. He imagined he felt the bull's blood, thick and sticky, covering his body. Ambiorix realized that the Romans saw themselves as the protectors and the Celts as evil. He shivered despite the searing heat. Hours passed. The only sound was the roaring of the flames. His throat was dry as winter grass and he relished the drop of honey an attendant placed on his tongue. The sweet, thick blob rolled smoothly down his throat, quenching his thirst. "Nemu," he whispered, his voice crackling like dead leaves. Her cool lips had tasted like honey. Without food or water for the entire day, he was starting to feel lightheaded. If he stared into the flames long enough, he began to see images. All initiates desired to see a vision, but not all were granted a vision by the gods. Ambiorix wished he had not been so blessed. The images he saw in the flames disturbed him. A voice called out from beyond the flames. "Come, Lions, it is time to prepare for the ritual feast." Chapter Four Aberth Light streams of golden sunlight peeked above the horizon. Nemu, bound and gagged, could only watch in horror, as the horizon gradually grew brighter. Here the trees weren't so thick and protective. She was out in the open, unprotected from the sun's rays. She struggled, trying to loosen the rope around her wrists so she could free her wings and fly away before the sun rose. Duel snoring sounds came from the two lumps of flesh near the dying fire. Nemu couldn't see what they looked like and she didn't want to wait around to find out. By twisting and turning her wrists, she was almost free, but the sun was already halfway above the horizon. She closed her eyes, cringing, waiting for the rays to hit her skin, melting her into a rainbow pool of water. She felt the sun's rays burn her exposed skin, but when she opened her eyes, she discovered she was still whole. Her skin felt like it was on fire, but she didn't melt! "You idiots!" The sudden deep voice startled Nemu and the two sleeping by the fire. They both jumped up, falling over each other. Nemu would have laughed at the sight if she had not been in such a dangerous predicament. Before she could see the man behind the deep voice, she was covered from behind with a heavy sack, the rope around her wrists tightened, cutting into her wrists. "B-but Duragh! We found you something good." "She managed to loosen her ropes! You almost allowed a perfect specimen to escape!" She could feel the two cower before the one with the powerful voice. Duragh they called him. Nemu, too, cringed at the sound of his voice and the way he said the word "specimen." 'What did that mean?' she wondered. Her wrists ached from the tightened ropes and she couldn't work them loose. She felt herself lifted off the ground and gently placed into a wagon. "Yes...that's it. Aberth won't want her damaged." Tears filled Nemu's eyes. She knew she could have easily escaped from her first two captors, but the one with the powerful deep voice--she shivered when she thought of him--he wouldn't be so easy to escape from. The gentle rocking of the wagon made her sleepy. She tried her hardest to keep from falling asleep, but her eyes grew heavy and she finally lost the battle. --She awoke to many different smells and sounds. She wondered if she was in one of the large towns Ambiorix had told her about. Laughter and shouts rang out all around her. The smell of baking bread

and roasting meat made her stomach gurgle. She couldn't remember the last time she had something good to eat. Other smells weren't so pleasant. Sweating bodies, urine and feces choked her. She wished she had never left her home in the mountains. If this was what the towns were like, she didn't want to be here. The wagon kept moving until they were out of the town and away from the unpleasant odors. Sweet floral smells and clean air soothed her and she relaxed again. Unable to see, she had no sense of where she was, but the wagon changed direction into the sun. They were taking her west. She could feel that the sun was low in the sky. Strange birds called out to one another and the air was tinged with salt. She was near the sea. The ride, too, had changed. Nemu grunted in pain each time the wagon hit a rough spot. They weren't on the main road anymore. And the wagon was climbing upward. Nemu slid to the back of the wagon, yelping as sharp splinters jabbed into her sensitive skin. The air had changed to a bone-chilling cold and the sun was gone. Maybe she would have another chance to escape once it was dark. She had been able to loosen the ropes again. Someone stepped into the back of the wagon. Duragh must have sensed she might try to escape now that it was getting dark. She slumped down into the wagon and waited, but she had no chance to escape. Duragh kept a tight grip on her. The wagon came to a halt and she was lifted out and placed on the ground. "Walk." The one called Duragh placed his hand on her and pushed her forward. His hand on her head, he forced her to bend forward and then he pulled her upright again. She sensed that she was in a narrow passage of some kind because she felt walls around her. He guided her to the left and into what felt like a larger room. The sack was lifted off. She whirled around to find herself behind iron bars. The iron bars made her feel weak, tired. Duragh smiled wickedly at her and turned around, leaving her alone. Nemu wanted to stretch her tight muscles and flap her wings, but she was still tied up. She was in a circular room made of stone and she sensed she was underground. Torches on long poles lit up the dark cave-like room. The room was filled with glass bottles that contained horrible looking animal fetuses, floating aimlessly in a fetid liquid. Some had two heads or more limbs than normal. Familiar sweet herbal smells like chamomile, peppermint and lavender mingled with the fetid stench came from the glass containers. On the dirt floor were two wooden chests. She shuddered, wondering what could be hidden inside. On one wooden table were weapons of some kind, jagged iron teeth with wooden handles. Some were straight and some were curved like a crescent moon. She shivered thinking of the damage a weapon like that would do to flesh, human or not. Whoever this Aberth was, he probably wasn't very kind. A tiny opening in the thatch roof revealed a gray sky flecked with silver streaks. Sounds of crashing waves echoed from far below with a roar that had a soothing effect on her. It had been a very long time since she had seen the great salt water that surrounded the island. She remembered the many creatures that lived in the sea, the friendly dolphins, the whales that were bigger than the tallest trees and the sharks that ate anything that got in their way. She preferred the deep dark lochs like the ones near her home in the mountains. She sighed, long and hard, and slumped down on the cold, bare floor of the cage. Her home was far away and she realized she might never see it again. Tears filled her eyes and she lowered her head. A sudden bustling sound made her look up. Through her tears she could see the blurry image of a man with hair the color of winter snow, hobbling toward her. He was carrying a bowl of food and he bent down, grimacing, pushing it under the bars. Though his hair was white and he hobbled around in pain, his eyes told a different story. A clear, youthful blue, they watched her with such intensity; it was quite unsettling. He had the eyes of power, eyes of the sun. He eased himself down onto a bench covered in soft animal pelts without taking his eyes off her. "I apologize for this. I never know what Duragh will bring me and although you are quite exquisite, I'm afraid you are not what I use for my...experiments." His voice was not that of an old man either.

She eyed him with contempt. "I will untie you if you promise to behave." He had a kind face, but Nemu still didn't trust him. After all, she had been brought here against her will. Steam rose off the stew. Her stomached growled in protest. She nodded. He untied her. Nemu ripped the filthy rag out of her mouth. She stretched her muscles and flapped her wings. He watched her with fascination. "I have never seen a half-human, half-water faery before." Eyes flashing, she grabbed the bowl of stew. She turned her back to him and ate. The stew was gone before she realized that maybe she should have made sure there wasn't any poison or sleep potion in it. "Ah, you have a very healthy appetite. That is a good sign." She turned around and he was smiling at her. "Are you going to let me go?" she asked, ice coating her words. Still smiling, he said, "Yes, but I was hoping I could talk with you...perhaps study you before you leave." She folded her arms, glaring at him. "It isn't right to keep me here against my will." She didn't know what to think of this human. He looked like a kind man, but sometimes looks could be deceiving. "I am interested in creatures such as yourself and...I know, I am sorry you had to be brought here against your will, but I was hoping since you are here...well...I can compensate you for your trouble. That is, unless you are in a hurry to leave." "You can compensate me by letting me go." She was still angry from the whole ordeal and despite what he promised, she still wasn't sure she could trust him. She couldn't even enchant someone like him with her music and her voice. A human had to be willing or susceptible in order for her to use enchantment. "You must be very tired. At least stay the night, and if you still want to leave in the morning, I will let you go." Why did he have to be so nice and persuasive? She did feel tired and her body ached from the bumpy wagon ride. Hoping he was telling the truth, she nodded. He brought her some soft furs to sleep on and her leather bag that she thought was lost. "Thank you," she muttered, taking the bag from him. After snuffing out all the torches, but one, he wished her a good night. She was lulled into a deep sleep by the roar of the crashing waves that pounded the rocks below in a steady hypnotic rhythm. *** The next day, Aberth opened the cage and stood back, watching her with his piercing blue eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. He was expert at masking his thoughts, but his eyes were kind and somehow she sensed she could trust him. He proved to be a man of his word. She hesitated, standing before the open doorway. Freedom was only a few steps away. She could find Ambiorix and then what? She would always be too different for him to accept her. She realized no man would ever want her as long as she had wings. Memories of a past heartache came back to haunt her. She glanced over at her captor. He still stood in the same spot, leaning his crippled body on a large oak staff with an eagle head carved into the top. He looked at her with amusement twinkling in his eyes and a slight smile curving his lips. He could show emotion when he chose to, she noticed. "What is it you want from me?" "Nothing. You are my guest." "How do I know I can trust you?" He smiled. "The same way I knew I could trust you not to leave." She had to admit he was a very clever human. He reminded her of someone else she had known a long time ago. She pushed the thought out of her mind; it still caused her pain. --The old stone settlement was built on a cliff, precariously close to the edge, high above a rocky coastline. There were four stone roundhouses arranged around a courtyard. The largest house, which

was Aberth's residence, had a special portal leading to the underground room where Nemu had spent the night. They were alone, sitting on the garden terrace, overlooking the ocean, drinking a Roman white wine sweetened with honey. "What shall I call you?" "Nemu." "Nemu..." Something shifted in his eyes when he said her name, but she couldn't be sure since he was so expert at masking his thoughts. The huge golden orb hovered above the dark water ready to take its nightly dip. Crisp, salty ocean air filled her nostrils. For the first time in days, she felt relaxed. Gulls screamed out their final cries before settling in for the night. "You witnessed one of our rare glorious sunsets. Usually the fog has already rolled in." "It has been a long time since I have seen the ocean and I have never seen a sunset such as this one." Scattered clouds turned the entire sky a bright orange and a stream of gold crested the ocean's surface like a path leading straight to the home of the sky god--Taranis, the thunder god. "You are Ashray, are you not? Don't you like all bodies of water?" "Some of us do, I suppose, but I prefer the dark lochs of the northern mountains where I was born." "You are half-human. How is that possible? I thought Ashrays shied away from human contact." "Normally they do, but my mother was entangled in my father's fishing net and well, here I am." "Ah. I see. And how does it feel to be half-human, half-faery?" He watched her with those piercing blue eyes. She looked away, staring at her first full sunset. "Sometimes it can be very lonely." Her voice was like a whisper, barely heard over the crashing waves. The answer she gave was a surprise to her. Before Ambiorix, she had been content to be by herself. She turned back to face him. "I have had very little contact with humans, only with those such as yourself. For some reason they don't seem to fear me." "Like me...you mean..." "Druids." He let his mask slip for a moment. A surprised look filled his eyes and his thick gray eyebrows formed an arch. "That's interesting. And do these other druids live in the north?" "Yes. A few." "Other druids...in the north." He was talking as if to himself, rubbing his bearded chin. "I just hope others here aren't as perceptive as you. Druids aren't very popular with the Romans. Here, I am known as a man of science and medicine." She shrugged. "Like I said, I have been around your kind before and..." She pointed to the large staff that was leaning against the wall. "Maybe you shouldn't leave that out in the open." "My walking stick?" He smiled; his eyes lit up with amusement. "You can call it a walking stick, but I know that it is made of oak and only druids of the highest order carry one." "Well versed in druid history, are you?" His eyes still held a gleam of amusement, flecks of fading golden sunlight dancing in their depths. She stared out over the vast expanse of ocean. "Yes. I studied with a druid once." She sensed him staring at her. "How old are you, Nemu?" When he spoke her name, something tugged at her heart. There was a moment of silence as she contemplated her answer. She finally decided that he could handle her unique way of telling him her age. "I would rather show you, than tell you." She held up the first and second fingers of her right hand, directing his wise blue eyes to stare into her ancient green eyes. "Look here, Druid, to find the answer to your question." She showed him the beginning, long before the Romans came. She showed him a time of relative peace, when jewelry and weapons were made out of bronze. Then everything changed when iron was discovered and humans could make more efficient weapons to kill their neighbors.

He took it all in with a look of wonder on his face. "Fascinating. You have seen a lot happen. You are at least a thousand turns of a year." She smiled, a mysterious twinkle in her eyes. "I have witnessed a time of peace and I have witnessed humans repeatedly kill each other and the only difference now is that they can do it more efficiently with iron weapons." He frowned, his thick eyebrows arching downward. "You speak ill of humans, yet you are half-human." "Not all humans. It's just that when you have been around as long as I have...well, I suppose I have become a bit distrustful of most humans." She stretched her wings and sighed. He rubbed his beard in thoughtful contemplation. "I suppose I might feel the same had I lived as long as you and had to witness humans making the same mistakes over and over again." They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their wine. Nemu broke the silence. "I have been answering your questions. I'd like to ask a question now." He nodded. "What happened to your leg?" A cold ocean-driven breeze chilled the air. He pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders. "I will answer your question, but we must go inside first. My old bones can't handle the chill." They entered the large roundhouse and Aberth settled himself onto a low bench near the central fire, wincing as he stretched out his bad leg. A damp earthen smell permeated the roundhouse, but despite the dirt floors and walls made of stone the house was remarkably warm and cozy. Sheepskins covered the floor around the fire. Clay pots for food and water storage sat against one wall and an oak framed bed with a feather mattress topped with sheepskins sat against the far wall. Various herbs and bottles sat on a table on the far side of the room, a healer's tools or spices for cooking. There were no obvious signs that a druid lived here. Nemu guessed that all of his druid secrets were kept hidden in the underground room locked safely away in the wooden chests. Nemu stood next to him. "Allow me," she said, kneeling next to him and placing her hands on his leg. "Does it hurt more when it is damp?" "Yes. It seems to be getting worse, too." She felt his body relax. The heat from his damaged joints felt as hot as the roaring fire behind her. She gently moved her fingers around his leg, massaging the affected area. "You certainly do have some healing skills." She smiled. "Tell me what happened to your leg." "The Romans did it." The Romans. Would she ever stop hearing about the atrocities of the Romans? His voice was even, unemotional. "We knew they were coming and we were prepared to die. I remember that the day was dark as if the sun knew what was to happen and hid behind the clouds in fear. The Romans had come before and there were only a handful of us left. Maia was one of them." He looked down for a moment. "Her screams still haunt me." He paused, staring into the flames. "I expected to die that day, too. I wanted to die that day, but the young Roman soldier looked into my eyes and adjusted his blow, missing my mid-section. I hoped I would bleed to death, but alas, I did not. I was brought here and the people in this village, farmers and sheepherders, keep my secret safe. In turn, I treat their sick and injured." "The Romans are truly savages." She thought of Ambiorix and wondered if he was capable of such horrible acts. "They are only doing what comes natural to men." "That is why I stay out of human affairs." "My leg feels much better. I am indebted to you." He shifted, attempting to rise. Nemu helped him stand. "I am going to retire to bed now. You will stay a little longer?" She nodded. "Sleep well, Aberth." He turned to her, leaning on his great oak staff. "Oh, one last question. I promised you compensation for the inconvenience I caused you. What is it that you wish?"

There was something she secretly wished for, but could he grant that wish? She spoke to the fire when she answered. "I wish to be more human." Chapter Five Samhain Frozen rain fell from the blackened sky, pelting his skin like sharp dagger points and his breath, rolling out as he breathed, resembled puffs of smoke hanging frozen in the wintry air. It was late autumn and it was the eve of Samhain, which to the Celts meant the time when the veil was thin between this world and the other world of the dead. Ambiorix shivered, but not from the cold rain pelting his skin. He glanced north across the moorlands, at the wide, empty plain of gently sloping hills covered in course purple heather, and imagined the glow of the fires that would probably be burning there tonight. Most of his neighbors to the south, east and west were Romans retired from the military, or held an office in town and owned a country villa to escape the hectic city life. But most of his neighbors to the north were Britons; and though Agricola had strictly enforced Romanization by building bathhouses and shrines to the emperor, the Britons still practiced their Celtic religion in secret. Even more so since the emperor Domitian had pulled the legions from the most northern forts. Dacian attacks from north of the Danube had called for more troops there and Roman troops in Caledonia were pulled back to Eboracum, Deva, in mid-western Britannia, and Isca Silurum, further southwest of Deva. Now Ambiorix conducted most of his business at the legionary fortresses at Eboracum and Deva. While in the town of Isurium Brigantum near Eboracum, he met Cavarinus, a Briton noble and magistrate in Isurium. They instantly became friends and drinking partners. Cavarinus invited Ambiorix to his home near the northwestern borders, near the Roman town of Luguvallium, for a Samhain celebration. Ambiorix's first instinct was to decline the invitation, but his friend had convinced him to come with a slap on the back and a twinkle in his eyes, saying, "Come. We will drink and feast. It will be a joyful occasion." Ambiorix accepted the invitation partly because he was curious and partly because he had nothing better to do. Valeria wouldn't arrive until spring when the villa was completely finished. The faint sound of music floated from out of nowhere, surrounding him. He had long ago left the safety of the well-traveled road and no one was in sight. Ambiorix had to strain to hear it, but he knew he wasn't imagining the haunting melody. The horses heard it, too, stamping and letting out nervous whinnies, refusing to continue until he urged them on with a gentle voice. The music seemed to follow him across the empty plain. He was beginning to think that maybe it had been a mistake to venture out on Samhain. The stories from his childhood were getting to him, and ever since he met Nemu, he was beginning to think those stories might have some truth to them. Feeling foolish, he uttered an ancient spell of faery banishment. "Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children have gone." He glanced around and urged the horses into a fast trot, anxious to get to the festival site before the sun went down. --He couldn't believe the number of people that had gathered for the festival. They were spread out across the valley like herds of grazing sheep. And there were sheep, too, off in the distance, looking like puffy dark clouds against a sky of green. Patches of woodland were scattered haphazardly along the valley, lining lakebeds, and in layers up the gently rolling hills. Sitting on top of a low hill was a small hillfort resembling a king on his throne, overlooking his kingdom down below. He shuddered, thinking that he had fought these people, killing many of them. Riding past the groups, he noticed the subtle differences in the various tribes. Some had dark hair, some had light hair, and some had red hair. Some wore richly colored cloaks and some were in tattered rags. He saw defeat in most of their eyes and this bothered him.

He passed by a young girl playing a bone flute. The melody floated on the air, filled with such sadness and longing. The song brought a memory back from his childhood, something he had forgotten. He remembered back to one winter when he was a young boy. He had traveled with his mother to the southwest territory of the Dumnonii tribe, his mother's tribe. She wanted to take him there because the following spring he would be leaving for Rome to attend one of the finest schools. They had traveled in style in a covered carriage accompanied by five Roman soldiers. The Dumnonii territory was rich in tin and other metals and the Romans wanted all the metals they could get to make weapons for the armies. As they passed the mines, Ambiorix pushed aside the curtain, curious to see what was outside. He saw lush green hills and odd rock formations, and beyond he saw the ocean. Then he saw lines of slaves working the mines, carrying baskets from a riverbed, their shuffle like that of a person defeated. The look in their eyes was incomprehensible to his young mind. Now, as he recalled the sight, he thought the look of despair in the slave's eyes was similar to the look in the eyes he passed now. The memory had been forgotten until now and he realized why he couldn't bring himself to own a slave. Never before had he felt any remorse for what he had done for Rome, but now he wondered if it was right to force ways on a people that didn't want to change. Though most of these people had probably accepted Roman ways, it didn't show at this gathering; and even though the Roman governor frowned on large gatherings of the Celtic tribes, now there weren't enough troops to enforce the Roman laws. And especially here in the northwest near the Caledonian border, far from any town, the laws were even harder to enforce. Ambiorix tried to justify why he was here. He knew that by being a part of this festival he was betraying Rome. He told himself he was only accepting an invitation from a friend. To ease his conscience he would keep his eyes and ears open to any hints of an uprising. Leading the horses up a gentle slope, he was aware of curious stares as he passed the groups of people. These people knew he wasn't part of a tribe. His short, square Roman haircut gave him away even though he was wearing his riding clothes--a loose pair of trousers, a tunic, cloak, and not the traditional Roman toga. Sitting tall and proud in his saddle, he rode past them, pretending the stares didn't bother him. Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed a spectacular sight as he crested the gentle slope to the hillfort. The rain that had followed him here had finally let up. A thin beam of sunlight forced its way between the clouds and struck the earth right in the middle of an ancient circle of standing stones, splashing golden light onto the dark gray stones. He rode on to the stables, trying his best to ignore the open stares. --Cavarinus greeted him with a slap on the back. He was a large robust man and the slap wasn't gentle, though Ambiorix knew that was the way Cavarinus greeted all of his male friends. Ambiorix smiled. "I am honored that you have invited me here. To show my appreciation, I have brought you a gift. It is down at the stables." Cavarinus turned to his other guests. "Come, let's see what Ambiorix has brought me." They walked the path down to the stables. "Aye, he is a fine stallion, Ambiorix. Very fine indeed." Cavarinus ran his large hand over the straight legs of the steed and up around the well-muscled chest. "One of my finest from Gaul." He noticed some of the men gathered around gave him unfriendly stares. "You can see that Ambiorix is not of full Roman blood. I have yet to meet a Roman that can pick a fine stallion or one that can actually ride one." Laughter erupted from the small gathering. Ambiorix carefully glanced around and then joined them in laugher. It was true that most Romans were not very skilled on horseback. Cavarinus slapped him on the back and motioned to a young boy, signaling him to take care of the horses. "Come, let me properly welcome you to my home."

Ambiorix looked around, counting ten roundhouses within the hillfort. He was accustomed to the rectangular Roman villas and he thought the Celtic roundhouses resembled pinecones with their high, pointy roofs. They entered the largest roundhouse at the center of the settlement. It was obvious Cavarinus had a lot of influence. They removed their heavy woolen cloaks and Cavarinus hung them on a metal hook near the doorway. Ambiorix noticed how plain his cloak looked compared to the brightly colored cloak that Cavarinus wore. A young woman offered him clean water in a bronze bowl, which he used to wash the travel dust from his face and hands. She was dressed in a white tunic embroidered with purple and she wore a golden torc around her neck and gold bracelets on her arms. Ambiorix's eyes followed her as she fetched a silver pitcher, poured wine into two silver cups and retreated. He figured she was a slave, though richly dressed, and a very fine looking one, too. "That is my daughter, Brigid." Cavarinus sat, stretching out his long legs and leaning back on his seat of furs, motioning for Ambiorix to sit on a stool to his right. "Oh, I...I'm sorry. I...thought she was..." "I know. You thought she was a slave. I could never accept that way of the Romans." "To tell you the truth, neither could I. I employ a few people at my villa, but they are always free to come and go as they wish." Ambiorix took a drink of wine from the fine silver cup. It tasted like Falernian wine. Only the most affluent could afford such a wine. The wine was only slightly watered down and the rich amber liquid slid down his throat, warming his belly. He stretched out his legs, relaxing on the fur-lined wooden seat. The Celtic houses were darker then the light bright villas he was accustomed to and the faint smell of animal dung and fresh animal skins lingered in the air. But it was warm and cozy. The central fire warmed his cold limbs. He noticed the walls were coated with lime wash and painted with a red and black design of interlocking circles bordered by diamond shapes. Partitioned off behind screens with richly colored tapestries was the sleeping area. Sheep and deerskins covered the floor and clay pots, cups and drinking horns sat next to the fire pit. He knew the house would not have the comforts of Roman plumbing that he was accustomed to. The latrine would consist of an open trench in the bushes far behind the houses and away from any drinking water. Besides the drinking and eating gear, the house was bare. He was surprised at the lack of possessions for a noble, but then he noticed the golden torc and bronze armbands, inlayed with enamel, that adorned Cavarinus and realized that he wore most of his possessions. Cavarinus must have read his thoughts. "I keep most of my possessions at my main residence near Isurium. This hillfort has belonged to my family for many years." They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying their wine. "It seems strange that we have become good friends so quickly. We really don't know that much about each other." Ambiorix pondered this statement. "What is there to know?" "Nothing. I mean...You are Roman. I am a Celt. I am on friendly terms with other Romans, but I would not call any of them a friend." Cavarinus took a long swallow of wine. "There is no law I know of that says a Roman and a Celt can't be friends. But I know what you mean, I think. I feel like I have known you for a long time when we have only just met." "Listen to us. We talk like a couple of priests, or worse, like a couple of women." Cavarinus let out a deep hearty laugh. He rose from his seat. "Let us go and join the others. The sun is setting and the feasting will begin soon." --It was a traditional Celtic feast. Cavarinus sat in the center of the circle since he was the highestranking noble. The others sat in the order of their rank, women included. Ambiorix was seated among them and he could tell this displeased some of the nobles. The nobles were finely dressed in colorful tunics and cloaks; some of the women wore dyed tunic dresses and the men colorful checked trousers. The bright, brash colors dazzled his eyes, the checked

trousers clashing with the embroidered tunics and striped cloaks. Some of the men had spiked hair and beards with long mustaches. He looked around and noticed that some of the Celts wore a torc around their neck, a neck ring that he knew only the kings, nobles and warriors wore. The women were bedecked with gold jewelry: bracelets, rings, belt chains, hair ornaments, and they wore makeup. The lower classes wore plain colored tunics and the men didn't have long mustaches, but the lower classes were still bedecked in jewelry such as bronze or copper armlets and copper rings. Since there were no slaves, young children served what seemed like an endless supply of honey mead, pork and various types of bread. Pork was the favored meat at these festivals because it was believed to give immortality. Magic pigs were associated with the Celtic Otherworld. They could be killed and the next night they would come to life again. When everyone had filled up on the food, the festival was moved over to the ancient stones where the same seating was arranged inside the circle. The stones were about eight feet tall and were so close together they resembled a wall. About five hundred people gathered in the circle leaving a space in the center. There was some shifting as room was made next to Cavarinus for someone who arrived late. The men near Ambiorix whispered among themselves. He couldn't hear everything they were saying, but he figured out that this man was someone very important. The man walked with a very pronounced limp, leaning on a staff for support. His gray hair glowed white in the gathering darkness. He was dressed in a plain tunic, but he carried himself proudly, chin held high, despite his limp. The sun disappeared behind a hill and a large fire in the center of the circle glowed like bright sunlight in the darkness. Ambiorix leaned over trying to get a better look at the man. Wise blue eyes locked onto his. His breath caught in his throat, momentarily choking him. The many faces of battle he had forgotten, but he never forgot the eyes. He couldn't stop thinking of the man he maimed for life and the look that passed between them. The

man knew who he was. Bodhrans, Celtic drums, pounded out a primitive beat as a male and female danced around the fire, the male in pursuit of the female. Ambiorix thought this was the representation of the mating of the God and Goddess, the Dagda and the Morrigan. The Dadga represented life and the Morrigan, the war goddess, represented death. It was the joining of life and death, the thin veil of this night. Samhain also marked the passing of summer and the beginning of winter. He had first witnessed this ritual when he had spent the winter with his mother's people. The fire, the beating drums and the dancing brought back the memory of that long ago winter that seemed like another life to him. The territory of the Dumnonii was filled with tin mines, which didn't appeal to wealthy Roman farmers who built elaborate villas in neighboring Aquae Sulis in southwest Britannia. This left the somewhat remote Dumnonii territory less Romanized than other provinces. The major Roman influence came from the Roman fortress at Isca Dumnoniorum in southwest Britannia near the Dumnonii territory. The Dumnonii still practiced their Celtic ways in secret in an underground chamber built of stone and sod. His mother wanted him to remember his Celtic roots and so Ambiorix had sat in bewildered silence, watching the hypnotic dance of life and death. Ambiorix's thoughts turned back to the present and he used the distraction of the ritual to leave the stone circle. He needed fresh air and to relieve his belly of some mead. Mist floated like a thin blue veil across the full moon. He inhaled deeply the winter smells of smoke mixed with wood and slowly exhaled. He stumbled behind a tree to relieve himself. The stream seemed to go on forever and he leaned against the tree for support. "By the gods, I think you have a river flowing there," a soft female voice said from behind him. Startled, he splattered his boots. Cursing, he finished and shook himself back into his trousers. Soft feminine laughter erupted behind him. He whirled around. "Have you no shame, woman!" "I'm afraid shame is something I am lacking."

"You shouldn't sneak up on people. I might have killed you." Laughing, she said, "Perhaps you might have drowned me." He was glad of the darkness that hid the flush of red creeping up his cheeks. She was as tall as he was which was more than six feet and she had hair that was such a bright shade of red that it resembled firelight in the darkness. "So, you must be the Roman soldier. The friend of Cavarinus." She looked him up and down, clearly sizing him up. He noticed that she moved with the grace of a warrior, on the balls of her feet, ready to pounce or dodge a blow. He had heard of women warriors among some Celtic tribes. Some of the Roman soldiers had fought women warriors on the island of Mona. "And you? Are you a Brigante?" "No." Her tone implied she was insulted by his assumption. "My tribe hails from an island in the southwest that is no longer ours." She gave him a cold stare. "But what do tribes matter anymore? We are all a part of Rome now." Her words were filled with bitterness. He thought she was referring to Mona Insula, the druid stronghold. In the faint moonlight, he could see her narrow her eyes at him. "Some say you are a spy for the Roman governor, but Cavarinus and Aberth say you are a friend." "Who is...Ab...?" Suddenly Cavarinus appeared. "Ah, I see you have met Rhonwyn." She smiled at Ambiorix, but the moon was hidden behind mist and he could not see if the smile reached her eyes. --Later that night, Ambiorix awoke and was unable to go back to sleep. He quietly crept outside so as not to awaken Cavarinus and his daughter. A walk outside the gates seemed like a good idea. The guards teased him when he passed outside the gates saying, "Watch out for faeries. They especially like to carry away Roman soldiers." Derisive laughter erupted from the guards. Ambiorix ignored their remarks and wandered down by the stone circle. He sat down next to one of the stones, leaning against the cool smooth surface. Before he could stop himself, he was asleep. He awoke sometime later, groggy and disoriented. Something was different, but he couldn't figure out what except that the stones somehow looked brand new. They didn't have the weathered cracks that he noticed before. He suddenly had the feeling he wasn't alone, and turning, he saw an old woman dressed in tattered garments. She carried an odd looking stick with the gruesome head of a crow attached to the top. He shivered; she was either a ghost or something equally mystical, but she wasn't human because a blue glow emanated all around her. She raised her stick; night turned into day and she was gone. Ambiorix ran across the valley and stopped short when he saw the roundhouses scattered all around. He saw children laughing and playing, farmers tilling the fields, women gathering water at the river. They didn't look much different from the people he had seen at the Samhain festival except for one thing.

These people had eyes that were filled with happiness, not defeat. He ran back to the stones, falling to his knees, arms and face raised to the sky. "Why? Why are you showing me this?" he cried out to the gods and goddesses, to anyone who would listen. He touched the stones and in a flash, the night sky returned and he was back to where he belonged. But his question went unanswered. Chapter Six The Wedding The fog had lifted, revealing an ocean topped with golden light dancing from wave to wave. Seabird cries mingled with the sound of crashing waves pounding the jagged rocks below.

Nemu stood on the garden terrace, inhaling the clean salty air mixed with the scent of herbs and summer flowers that flourished in the garden. Like one of the Djinn, a type of faery that had to grant wishes when captured, Aberth had granted her wish. He had used the wicked looking instruments, that she thought were weapons, with the skill of a talented craftsman to successfully remove her wings. If she still had her wings, she would join the seabirds on their quest diving for fish beneath the dark green waves. She could only watch them now. A slight twinge of sadness coursed through her as well as a bit of disappointment. She had expected to feel different, but inside she felt the same as before.

Would Ambiorix see her through different eyes now? Her small scars, below each shoulder blade, throbbed and she was sure the wings were still there. She came very close to sailing over the cliff's edge to see if she could still fly when she heard footsteps behind her. "Ah. You are feeling stronger. That is good." She turned to him, smiling. "Yes. I will be able to leave soon." "Are you returning to your home in the northern mountains?" "No." "Oh. I was hoping we could travel together." "You are going north?" "Yes. I wish to join the druids there." "Oh?" She raised her brows. "When I went to the Samhain festival while you were recovering from the surgery, I met up with some old acquaintances." Aberth leaned on his staff. "I heard the Romans have retreated from the northern borders. Maybe we have a chance to keep them out for good." He had a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Do you think it's possible?" "Anything is possible. You could join us. The druid order isn't as strong as it once was and we could use someone like you." Looking out across the ocean she imagined the other lands that lay on the other side. "I wish I could, but I can't." "Perhaps you will have a change of heart." She shook her head. She couldn't go through that kind of pain again. A few days later, Nemu said farewell to Aberth. She liked him and would miss him, but she desperately needed to find Ambiorix. --Nemu wandered the countryside, still unable to locate Ambiorix. It was more difficult than she thought it would be. All of the towns and villas looked exactly the same to her and they all had gardens with flowers. She asked around everywhere she went, but no one so far knew of Ambiorix. Using her skills as a healer and bard, she was able to obtain a warm meal and a warm place to sleep each night. She could travel in the daylight now, but she had to stay out of direct sunlight because her skin was very sensitive to the sun. Aberth had explained to her that she didn't melt from the sunlight because she was half-human. The feel of the warm golden sun on her cloaked shoulders was glorious, but she still considered herself to be a child of the moon. Nemu was enjoying the warm summer day, the scent of wildflowers, the gentle buzzing of the honeybees, and the cheerful song of thrushes and starlings. She entered a small settlement and noticed that a celebration of some kind was going on. She mingled in with the crowd that was gathering along the street. Smiling to herself, she was pleased that she could pass for human. People were whispering and pointing to a large building with grand columns on either side. Fancy looking carriages and Roman guards stood outside the building. Nemu turned to a plainly dressed old woman standing next to her and asked, "What is going on?" The old woman replied, "Some Roman nobles are gettin marrit and the empror imself is ere!" Her open mouth revealed several missing teeth.

"You mean a wedding? I have never seen a wedding before." "I aven't seen many meself. Common folk simply set up ouse and their marrit. Nobles. They ave to make a big fuss...show off their wealth." She made a strange sound that resembled a snort. Nemu raised her head trying to see what was going on. She saw a bull being led to the building where the bride and groom were standing at some type of altar. She couldn't see their faces because they were facing the other direction. The bride wore a headdress made of flowers that adorned the top of her dark hair, which was piled high on the top of her head. Her veil was a fiery red and her gown was a full-length white tunic fastened at the waist. When the ceremony ended, the newly married couple jumped into a carriage. Nemu pushed her way to the front of the crowd to get a better look at them. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief when she saw the groom's face.

The groom was her Ambiorix. She felt like she was going to be sick and her legs wobbled uncontrollably beneath her. Everything seemed to move in slow motion around her as the crowd moved closer to get a better view of the emperor as he left in a grand departure with his entourage of about a dozen Roman guards. She couldn't help herself. She had to see him. Nemu asked those around her and was told that the reception was at the home of Cavarinus. He lived in the largest villa on the outskirts of town. She was told the villa would be decorated in garlands and wreaths. When she was alone, she let the tears flow; then quickly wiped them away. "I will not let him see me this way," she vowed to herself. --Roman guards stood outside the front gates to the grand villa. Nemu stayed hidden behind a tree, examining the layout of the villa. The only entrance appeared to be the front gates through which she could see a rectangular inner area with trees and flowers. The main house surrounded this area with two long corridors extended like wings on either side. She watched carriages enter through the main gate. All the people were dressed in fine garments laced in gold. She looked down at her own plain tunic and frowned. Then she saw some young girls being dropped off at the front gate. They were dressed in plain garments. Nemu hurried over to the wagon, walking around behind it, and falling into step with the plainly dressed girls. The guards gave them all bored glances, moving aside to let them enter. An older woman met them inside the gate and ushered them into the kitchen. People were rushing around preparing meals. Pork sizzled over an open spit above a wood-burning hearth. The delicious smell was overwhelming to Nemu. The woman looked Nemu and the other girls over, exclaiming, "I can't have you serving the guests looking like that!" Hustled into another room, they were handed some bright colored garments to wear. The woman left the room. Nemu and the other girls stripped off their plain tunics, adorning themselves in the finer clothes. The fabric felt soft against Nemu's skin. The front dipped low to reveal some cleavage. The woman entered the room again, this time with a man close at her heels. He looked upset. "The entertainment has failed to show up." He talked with a strange lisp. "Flavius, I am in charge of the kitchen. What do you expect me to do about it?" She sounded irritated. They spoke in the foreign Roman language called Latin and Nemu was astounded that she understood what they said. Their language was very similar to the language her father had taught her. "Uh...I can sing!" Nemu blurted out. Flavius looked at the woman who shrugged her shoulders. "I don't see any other choice. Come with me." Flavius grabbed Nemu's arm and led her down the hallway. He looked her over. "You have lovely features, but we need to fix your hair and make you more presentable." He paused. "Oh, and you had better be able to sing or I promise you, you will receive a thrashing you won't soon forget." These last words he spoke through clenched teeth. She was sure he meant it, too. ---

Nemu stood in the center of the large dining room. The walls and floors were decorated in bright colors. People were milling all around, talking and drinking wine. Some of the people lounged on fancy long chairs. No one seemed to notice her. Flavius nodded to her, motioning with his arms for her to start singing. She looked around the room, but didn't see Ambiorix or his new wife. Flavius stared at her, an impatient gleam in his eyes. She opened her mouth and sang of ancient love and the mist-filled glens of her homeland. At first the people continued talking while she sang, but as her rich haunting voice filled the room, people stopped and stared at her. When she finished her first song, there was complete silence in the room. An older, balding man dressed in the finest clothes clapped, and the whole room began clapping. Nemu thought that he must be the emperor everyone made such a fuss over. To her he looked like any other human. She wanted to find Ambiorix, but Flavius gestured for her to keep singing. She began the song she had sung to Ambiorix in the glen when they first met. Even without the musical accompaniment of her wings, her voice was magical. And then mid way through the song she saw him. Her pulse quickened and her heart beat faster. He stared at her in disbelief, his face ashen. She finished the song and, with feigned confidence, walked up to him. He was clean-shaven, his dark blonde hair neatly trimmed in the square Roman style. Without the beard, she could see his high cheekbones and dimpled chin. He looked just like he did when she found him injured in the forest. The jagged white scar started at his forehead, cut across his right eye and ended at the edge of his cheekbone. "Ambiorix..." She fought the urge to reach up and touch the scar. An endless white sea of Roman strangers surrounded her, staring, pointing, and whispering in Latin. She felt like a caged animal on exhibit. The room suddenly felt stifling. And Ambiorix looked oddly foreign to her. He was dressed in the traditional Roman clothes, the flowing white robe that gathered over the left shoulder and arm leaving only the right arm free. He easily blended into the white sea of strangers. This wasn't the Ambiorix she had fallen in love with. His wife suddenly appeared at his side, possessively grabbing his arm. "Ambiorix, who is this peasant girl and why does she claim to know you?" She stared down at Nemu with an arrogant lift to her chin. Nemu stared back at her, instantly disliking his Roman...human wife. She was about a head taller than Nemu, but she did not intimidate Nemu at all. Nemu turned her attention back to Ambiorix, pleading with him with her eyes, but he turned away from her, speaking to his wife in the strange Latin language, probably thinking that Nemu wouldn't understand what he was saying. "She must be mistaken. I do not know her." Nemu gasped. She felt as if her heart was being ripped from her chest. All she saw were blurry faces and they seemed to be laughing at her. The room started spinning. She turned and fled. Tears blurred her vision so that she was lost, running blindly through the corridors, her sandals clicking on the hard tile floors. She finally found the room she had changed her clothes in. Grabbing her old tunic, she ripped off the foreign Roman dress and pulled on her tunic. She ran out into the courtyard and through the gates, wiping the tears away while running as fast as she could. "Wait!" It was a woman's voice that called to her. Nemu kept running. She just wanted to get far away. "Wait! I want to talk to you!" The woman was next to her now and she felt a hand firmly grip her arm, slowing her down. Nemu turned to see a tall young woman carrying a large leather pack. The stranger was breathing hard. "You...run...very fast." Nemu didn't speak, but slowed down, walking beside the woman. "You sang very beautifully back there. I think you even moved the emperor to tears." "What do you want?" Nemu asked.

"Huh? Oh. I don't know. I was wondering how you knew Ambiorix." She looked Nemu over. "By the looks of your garments, you are not of noble birth." "We met last summer. He was wounded in battle and I healed him." "Ah, I see." The tall woman eyed her curiously. "Are you a Roman citizen?" "No." "What tribe do you belong to?" "I don't belong to a tribe," Nemu said proudly. "Then where are you from?" "The northern mountains near the Highlands." The tall woman's face grew animated, her green eyes dancing with joy. "The land the Romans call Caledonia? That is where I am going! We could travel together if you don't mind the company." Nemu looked the other woman over. She obviously wasn't Roman though she was dressed like that in a flowing white dress with one shoulder bared. Her red hair was braided in one long, thick braid that hung halfway down her back. Nemu hadn't seen too many Romans with flaming red hair. She thought that it couldn't hurt to have someone to travel with. "I don't mind." "Then it's settled. Let me introduce myself. I am called Rhonwyn. And you?" "I am called Nemu." "Do you mind if we stop so I can change out of these annoying clothes?" Before Nemu could answer, Rhonwyn ducked behind a row of tall bushes. Nemu's eye grew wide with surprise when Rhonwyn emerged from behind the bushes wearing a black tunic embroidered with red on the neck and around the bottom. The tunic was sleeveless, baring her taut arms that were adorned with golden armbands inlayed with black stones. The tunic was belted. A small leather bag hung from the belt as well as a large sword, in a black leather scabbard, at her side. She wore fitted black leather trousers and on her feet she wore matching leather ankle boots. A golden torc encircled her neck with raven heads linking the front of the neck ring. She had the curves of a woman, but also the hard muscles of a man. Nemu's new friend was a female warrior and born of noble blood by the quality of her clothing and jewelry. Rhonwyn smiled with satisfaction. "This is much better. I hate those Roman dresses. They restrict my movements too much." Nemu looked down at her plain tunic and shabby braided leather belt and frowned. The four leather laces up the front were tattered; the bottom hung about mid-calf length and was starting to fray. Her ankle-high laced leather booties were looking worn. She had never given much thought to her clothes since she had always worn a cloak to cover her wings. The only jewelry she wore was a moonstone amulet worn on a leather cord around her neck. As if reading her mind, Rhonwyn said, "I think you look beautiful." She smiled affectionately at Nemu. Embarrassed, Nemu blushed. "Thank you." Rhonwyn turned, inserting her first and second finger into her mouth and whistled. The bushes rustled and a small, sturdy brown pony appeared. Rhonwyn stroked his neck, offering him an apple she pulled from her leather bag. "I had to appear as a lady at the Roman gathering, so I couldn't ride up straddling a beast between my thighs." She vaulted up into the saddle and gestured for Nemu to grab onto her outstretched hand. "I can walk." "We can travel faster on horseback and you are small enough to fit behind me. Give me your hand." Nemu grabbed onto Rhonwyn's hand and was pulled up behind her in the saddle. They rode in silence for a while until Rhonwyn spoke. "You really caused a stir back there and upset Valeria. I was glad of the distraction so I could slip out before I had to suffer through the emperor's ridiculous poetry readings. I was only there to make an appearance for political reasons." She laughed. "The party was boring up until then." Nemu frowned. "I'm glad I could entertain you," she muttered. Rhonwyn noticed how upset she was. "I'm sorry. You really love him, don't you?" Nemu was silent.

"If it makes you feel any better, he probably had to marry her for political reasons." "No, it doesn't make me feel any better. He pretended he didn't know me." Remembering his cruel words, Nemu choked back tears. "Oh, look, he didn't really have a choice given the circumstance." "Everyone always has a choice. He made his." "I'm sorry you hurt so much," Rhonwyn said softly, turning to look back at her. Compassion filled her eyes. Her words did nothing to soften the ache in Nemu's heart, the ache that grew and grew. She had to get far away, to forget him, to forget his world and maybe the ache would fade with time. But she was different now. She was more human now, was accepted by humans now.

Would she be able to go back to herold life, to her secluded home in the mountains? Chapter Seven The Dinner Party The servants, who always rose before dawn, had already heated the fires supporting the under-floor heating and carried in fresh water from the well. Ambiorix washed and dressed in a tunic and loose trousers. His breakfast of fresh fruit and bread was sitting on the table waiting for him. He ate alone, savoring the quiet of the newly born day. Since his wedding three weeks ago, his thoughts had been troubled. Seeing Nemu again had been a great shock to him. She had shown up at his wedding and somehow her wings were gone! She had looked so beautiful and...human. What was he thinking? Frustrated, he banged his fist on the hard wooden table. He was only torturing himself. They were still from different worlds and he was married now. But her eyes, so full of sorrow, still haunted him. An ache tore through his heart, but there was nothing he could do. It was too late. He hadn't meant to cause her so much pain when he denied knowing her, but she had left him no choice. The emperor himself had witnessed the odd exchange between them. Most of the men probably kept a mistress or two, but one had to be discreet about such things, especially on his wedding day! Even though he had said the words in Latin, it was obvious by the look of anguish in her eyes that she understood every word. He had no idea that she knew Latin. She was a woman full of surprises. He had tried to find Nemu to apologize to her and explain everything to her. He had looked everywhere for her, but she had gone. Luckily Valeria was too preoccupied with the wedding day events to really take any notice and hadn't said anything to him about Nemu. In fact, all Valeria seemed to care about lately was her appearance. She wouldn't even let him see her until she was completely made up. She had changed so much since they were children. He sighed out loud and rubbed his hand through his thick hair, causing a few dark blonde strands to stick out at the sides. He would never understand the mysterious ways of women. Ambiorix looked up and noticed that precious light was wasting. He quickly finished his breakfast and went outside to the stables. --Once inside the stables, Ambiorix felt his mind and body relax. The soft snorting and stamping of the horses calmed him. The sweet smell of fresh straw cleared his troubled mind. Taran the stable master was already at work. Each horse had to be rubbed down, fed and exercised. "I need you to ready a wagon." Taran nodded and walked over to the supply rack. Harnesses and bridles of various sizes hung from the rack in neat rows. Ambiorix was impressed at how organized Taran kept the stables. He watched Taran lead the small stocky pony, used for pulling the wagon, out of the stall. The pony pulled his head back, almost yanking the reins out of Taran's hand, snorting and digging his hooves into the straw-covered floor. Taran swore in his Celtic tongue and yanked the reins, pulling the stubborn pony out of the stables. The pony snorted in protest, but obediently followed him.

Ambiorix shook his head. Taran wasn't very skilled at handling horses. Horses needed soothing words so they could trust their handler. Ambiorix gave some final orders to Taran and climbed up into the wagon. With a light tap on the reins, he was off toward the main road into town. Early morning silver mist slowly gave way to golden rays of sunlight. Ambiorix almost dozed off, the droning of bees making him drowsy. He shook his head and sat up straight, trying to stay alert. The traffic on the road was light. Ambiorix saw only a few wagons and men on horseback. Some he knew and they would call out a greeting to each other. The closer he got to town, the more people he saw on the road. He was almost to the edge of town when shouts came from ahead, causing his pony to pace nervously, rocking the wagon back and forth. "Whoaa, boy," he said, pulling back on the reins. The pony stopped, swinging his great head back and forth. Ambiorix jumped out of the wagon, grabbing his sword belt. From where he was, he couldn't see anything. The shouting was coming from around a bend in the road. He rounded the bend and saw what looked like a slave wagon stopped in the middle of the road. A short, fat Roman man chased a nimble young slave, who despite his shackled wrists was outrunning the apparent slave trader. A few wagons and people were gathered around watching the spectacle. Laughter erupted from the onlookers. The other slaves, imprisoned in the slave wagon, were cheering the escapee on. All of this noise was causing the horse that was harnessed to the slave wagon to stamp and pace around. The slave trader chased the slave around the wagon and the slave crawled under the wagon, appearing on the other side. The slave trader couldn't keep up and stumbled, falling into a heap on the ground. Quick as lightning, the slave grabbed the slave trader's sword, ran to the panicked horse, spoke a few soothing words, cut the harness and jumped on the horse's back. Ambiorix decided to intervene, yanking the slave off the horse and holding him by the shackles. A chorus of groans erupted from the crowd. The show was over. Breathing heavily and covered in road dust, the slave trader walked over, brandishing a leather whip. He reached out, grabbing onto the slave's shoulder. Ambiorix saw the terror in the young slave's eyes. He stepped in between them, pulling the boy back. The slave trader's eyes grew round with surprise. "Sir, I am indebted to you, but I demand you hand my slave over at once." "I think I will take this one off your hands." Ambiorix pulled a bag of coins off his belt and handed it to him. "He's not for sale!" The slave trader tried to return the coin bag. Towering over the man, Ambiorix shoved the coin bag into his hand. "Take the money and go." "But, he cut my harness," the man sputtered. "There is enough money in there to pay for the boy and the harness. Go." The slave trader stomped off, the coin bag clutched in his chubby hand, muttering, "He is nothing but a thief anyway. You can have him." Ambiorix looked down at the wiry blonde boy, wondering if he should unshackle him. This was the first time he had ever bought a slave and he only did it to save the boy's life, but he also realized he had found his expert horse handler. The young boy had calmed the frantic horse with only a few soothing words. He was a natural. "Hold still." Ambiorix brought the sword down with one easy swing, slicing through the thick chains between the shackles. The boy looked down at his free hands, smiling. "We will have those shackles removed by a locksmith when we get to town." The boy glanced around as if contemplating his escape. "Now don't get any ideas about running away. You wouldn't get very far, and the penalty for an escaped slave is usually death or a severe beating--and personally, I would prefer death." Ambiorix

hoped his threats would get through to the boy, although he would never beat or kill a slave no matter the crime. The boy looked up at him, a perplexed look on his face. "You speak my language, Master." Ambiorix nodded. "We will have to work on what you should call me. 'Master' leaves a bad taste in my mouth." The boy looked confused. "Never mind that now. Come, we have a lot to do in town and we need to get back home well before sunset." --Ambiorix came up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her, planting soft kisses on her exposed neck. She smelled of fresh roses. "Mmm...you smell good." Valeria wriggled away from his grasp. "Please don't mess up my hair. I have worked all day preparing for the dinner party and I want everything to be perfect; even me, dear husband." She gently patted her dark hair piled high atop her head in the bonnet of curls style and straightened her ankle-length tunic. She was wearing her finest jewelry, a necklace made of gold inlayed with mother-of-pearl and emeralds, and matching dangling earrings. Ambiorix noticed how her tunic dipped low in the front to accentuate her generous breasts. "Can I have a little kiss from my wife?" He thought she looked beautiful, but she wore too much makeup for his taste. It was the current fashion in Rome to whiten the skin and apply berry juice to the cheeks and kohl to the eyes. He thought of Nemu's fresh natural face, her skin that smelled faintly of wildflowers. She quickly pecked him on the lips. "That's all I get?" "The guests will be arriving shortly. Please, we can be together later." She turned, heading for the kitchen. Feeling dejected, he watched her walk away from him. All she cared about was the dinner party. She wanted to impress all their Roman neighbors. He could care less what anyone thought about him. She had insisted he wear the traditional toga, which he never wore because it was too rainy and cold in Britannia. 'She used to be so much fun,' he thought, 'and now...' "Ambiorix!" Ambiorix turned around and saw Marcus standing in the arched entryway. They greeted each other with a hearty slap on the back. "I have to say this is a very interesting mosaic." Marcus was looking down at the large mosaic that covered the floor by the entrance. It was a scene out of mythology of the youth Hylas being lured into a pond, filled with lily pads, by seven bare breasted water nymphs. "I thought it would appeal to Valeria." The truth was that Ambiorix chose the mosaic design because it reminded him of Nemu. Valeria suddenly appeared, exclaiming, "Marcus! Welcome. Please come in. You are the first guest to arrive." She crossed the mosaic floor and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I had a room made up for you so you don't have to make the long journey back to the fort." "Valeria, how enchanting you look." He grasped her hand, pulling it to his lips, planting a kiss on the outside of her hand. Valeria giggled. "Why, thank you." "I apologize for not attending your wedding, but my legion was on the move." He turned to Ambiorix. "Ambiorix, there's something I want to discuss with you about the Caledonian tribes." Ambiorix smiled, amused that Marcus referred to the legion as "his" when he was Legati, or lieutenant general, second in command. "Marcus, you two can talk business after dinner," Valeria lightly scolded him while touching his arm. Ambiorix noticed that her hand lingered on his arm a little longer than it should have.

"Since you are the first guest to arrive, let me show you the house. You have to see the bathhouse that was added onto the left side of the house. It's small, but it has the most beautiful mosaic of Neptune..." Her voice trailed off as she led Marcus down the corridor, her arm linked through his. Ambiorix frowned. She seemed to pay more attention to Marcus than to him. More guests arrived and Ambiorix had to greet them. He would talk to Marcus later. He had a feeling he knew what Marcus wanted to talk to him about. --Ambiorix reclined on one of the low couches in the triclinium, or dining room, with Cavarinus and Marcus on either side of him. After a meal of roasted beef, boiled vegetables and a dessert of stuffed fried dates, apples soaked in cream sauce and pastries, the men now consumed the Falernian wine imported from Rome. Ambiorix had managed to obtain two amphorae filled with the expensive wine. "Ah, Ambiorix, you have an exceptional woman. She knows how to throw a party!" Cavarinus laughed, rubbing his full belly and letting out a heartfelt belch. "Yes, you are the lucky one, my friend." Marcus' eyes were glazed over from the wine he had consumed throughout dinner. "Here's to you and Valeria." He took a long drink of the wine. Ambiorix thought his friend looked truly happy for him and Valeria, but Marcus was hard to read sometimes. The three of them had grown up together in Rome, the children of Senators, and both of them had been in love with Valeria at one time. Ambiorix wondered if his friend had bitter feelings toward him for marrying Valeria. "I hear the northern Caledonian tribes are gathering again," Marcus said, glancing at Cavarinus. Cavarinus kept his face expressionless as a stone. "Really? I hadn't heard." Ambiorix thought about the Samhain gathering, but decided to say nothing about it. The experience he had at the stone circle still haunted him. "Agricola made a grave mistake when he let so many of the enemy live at Mons Graupius. They should have been hunted down and killed." Marcus' dark eyes glittered with drunkenness and rage. Cavarinus made no comment. He sat silently drinking his wine. "Agricola wanted to do just that, but the emperor called him back to Rome. He told me so himself." He knew Marcus was drunk, but Ambiorix wished he wouldn't comment so much about killing Celts in front of Cavarinus. "That certainly sounds like something Domitian would do. I heard a rumor that he was jealous of Agricola's victory. He made a huge mistake calling him back to Rome because the tribes will probably reunite against Rome. I hear Domitian's paranoia is increasing to the point where he thinks everyone in the Senate is conspiring against him." The triclinium opened onto the courtyard so most of the guests were outside, and the buzz of other voices across the room covered up Marcus' negative words against the emperor. Even this far on the northern frontier Domitian's spies could be lurking about. Cavarinus shifted uneasily in his seat. "Maybe we should change the subject, Marcus. I'm sure military talk is boring to Cavarinus. We can discuss it tomorrow." "What else is there to discuss? The pretty flowers in your garden?" Ambiorix couldn't remember the last time he saw Marcus this drunk and belligerent. Cavarinus spoke up. "Don't change the subject on my account. Actually, I find military talk quite interesting." Ambiorix breathed a sigh of relief and filled his glass with more of the amber wine. Marcus sent a triumphant look his way. "Will the legions move against the Caledonian tribes, now that the Legio XX Valeria Victrix has been pulled from Pinnata Castra to Deva?" Ambiorix asked. "The emperor doesn't favor a move against them now, but that could change." "I never did congratulate you on your new command, Marcus." Though the wine was watered-down, it was having a strange effect on Ambiorix tonight. He always thought he had been content to breed horses, but now he was missing the excitement of battle. The command that went to Marcus should have been his. He thought back to how Marcus struggled to match his skills on horseback. They had

always been competitive with each other since they were children. Marcus had finally succeeded at being above average, but still not at Ambiorix's level on horseback. Marcus had surpassed him now, no longer lingering in his shadow. "Being second in command of a legion is hard work, but very exciting. I only wish the emperor would send us into battle. Boredom is setting in at the fortress." "Why not persuade him to send one legion, yours, to scare the Caledonian tribes?" Marcus sat up, his face alight with an idea. "Ambiorix, perhaps you could help by persuading the new governor, Lucullus, that it is necessary, that the Caledonian tribes are an imminent threat. You were always the best one at the art of persuasion." Ambiorix nodded, the wine rushing to his head. He suddenly felt the urge to ride with a legion again. Maybe he could ride with the legion as a regional dignitary representing the governor. "I think I could do that. After all, how else did I manage to marry Agricola's niece?" Marcus and Ambiorix laughed, drinking more wine. Ambiorix noticed that Cavarinus didn't join in their laughter. "I'm afraid I must call it an early night." Cavarinus stood. Nodding to Ambiorix and turning to Marcus, he said, "Perhaps we will meet again...soon." Ambiorix thought his words sounded a bit cryptic, but Marcus seemed not to notice. "Perhaps," he answered offhandedly, raising his goblet in a farewell salute. "Do you trust the barbarian?" Marcus asked after Cavarinus was out of earshot. "Cavarinus?" "What other barbarians have you seen here tonight?" "Of course I trust him. He is a good friend and a Roman citizen." He narrowed his eyes at Marcus. Marcus didn't notice. "He may dress in a toga," he said, gesturing at his own toga, "but that doesn't make him Roman. I think they are a little too generous with giving out Roman citizenship, if you ask me." Ambiorix felt his face grow hot. He was becoming angry with his childhood friend. "You shouldn't talk rashly of someone unless you know what you are talking about--and you could have showed better manners toward him." Marcus raised his dark brows. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you are sympathizing with them." Valeria interrupted them. "Should I send Fiona over with some more wine?" "I think Marcus has had enough wine." Ambiorix frowned, waving her away. "Wait. Let me ask Valeria her opinion on the matter we were discussing." She looked at them with a perplexed expression. "Do you think your husband sympathizes with the Celts?" She opened her mouth, her eyes filled with shock at the bluntness of his words. "I..." She glanced from one to the other, torn. Ambiorix noted her hesitation. She didn't rush to his defense. "I can see you two are no fun." Marcus stood after a couple of attempts. "I think it is time I retired for the evening. Valeria, would you mind showing me to my room?" "Not at all." She walked him down the hall, linking her arm through his. Ambiorix noticed how they complemented each other. They were about the same height and both had dark hair. Valeria laughed at some comment Marcus made and their heads touched for a moment. Feeling a slight twinge of jealousy, Ambiorix watched them until they disappeared around the corner. He glanced around at the other guests. They were all prominent Romans. He realized he had no desire to talk to any of them. The only person he actually liked had left, obviously insulted by Marcus' unbridled words. --Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, the last of the guests left and the servants scurried around cleaning up. Ambiorix staggered into his bedroom and toward the door that opened onto the inner courtyard.

All of the bedrooms opened onto the inner courtyard. The villa was built from the main rectangular house with wings added to each side and a courtyard in the middle. In Rome, the rooms would not have any doors because of the mild weather. In Britannia, doors were necessary because of the colder weather. He threw open the oak door and breathed in the clear, crisp night air along with a hint of the sweet aroma of lavender and rosemary. Statues of Roman deities resembled gray ghosts, the bottoms wrapped in mist so they appeared to be floating, haunting the garden. He started to undress and was startled to see Valeria standing in the shadows of the room glaring at him. "Why do you have to be such a brute?" She stood with her hands on her hips. The wine had fogged his mind and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. "Don't bother me with this nonsense now, Valeria." "This dinner party meant a lot to me. You insulted your childhood friend and then you sulked the rest of the night." "I can do whatever I please in my own home." "This is my home, too! It may not matter to you, but Marcus is the second in command of a legion and some day he will command his own legion. He is an important man." "Yes," he hissed. "He is a very important man and I am a mere speck of dirt!" He clenched his fists. "Leave me be, woman!" "You could have had a seat in the Senate, but you turned it down! Don't be angry at me, Ambiorix." "You don't understand, do you? I am angry because all you seem to care about is titles. I don't care about any of that. Why can't you love me for what I am?" Tears sprang to her eyes. "This place has changed you," she whispered and fled from the room. "Why are you being so impossible?" he shouted, but he was too tired to run after her. Instead, he kicked the chest that held his clothes, yelping in pain when he stubbed his toe on the hard wood. Exasperated, he went to bed, dreaming of the forest and moonlight. And Nemu. --The next morning, he woke with a pounding headache. He heard voices and laughter coming from the other room. He got up, threw on some clothes and quickly splashed cold water on his face. Valeria and Marcus looked up when he entered the room. Valeria smiled at him. "Ambiorix, we were just talking about that time when we were children and you stuck your hand into that bee hive." Marcus laughed. "You would do anything for a dare." "They didn't sting me though, but I remember one of them stung you, Marcus, right on your backside." Ambiorix looked at Marcus with an amused look on his face. "It was my upper thigh." "You never did excel in anatomy." They all burst into laughter. Hearing his wife's laughter softened his heart. Ambiorix motioned for Valeria to come over to him. He spoke in a low voice so Marcus couldn't hear. "I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry for the things I said to you." She squeezed his hand. "I know you two lovebirds would rather be alone, so I think I will head back to the fort." Valeria turned toward Marcus. "Don't leave yet, Marcus. I was hoping we could all go for a ride and find a nice comfortable place to enjoy some of the fine food Fiona has prepared." She looked at Ambiorix to see if he would agree. In the light of day and free from the effects of the wine, he felt a stab of nostalgia for the old days when the three of them were together, and happy. He wanted to be happy again. "I think that sounds like a great idea. What do you say, Marcus? It will be just like old times." "Yes. I think I would like that very much." Valeria's eyes sparkled with happiness, and for a moment, she looked like the girl he had fallen in love with.

They found a place surrounded by oaks and elms, the wide, leafy branches providing shelter from the summer sun that decided to show its face, blazing fiercely downward. A small stream flowed nearby, the cool water too inviting to ignore. Ambiorix stripped off everything but his trousers and ran into water that came up to about his chest. Marcus followed him. Valeria stood on the shoreline watching them. "Aren't you going to join us?" Marcus splashed water toward her, causing her to scream and giggle. "You two are acting like a couple of school boys." Ambiorix nodded toward Marcus, giving him the signal. They walked toward the shoreline. "Well, I thought you two were never going to come out of there. Now we can e....Ah!" They each grabbed one of her arms and pulled her into the water. "You brutes! Look at me now!" She tried to sound mad at them, but she was smiling and Ambiorix thought she looked better without all the makeup she always wore and with her hair down instead of up in some fancy hairstyle. After the swim, they sat in the sun to dry off. Ambiorix watched Marcus and Valeria interact with each other. They both laughed at something he said and she touched his arm. Ambiorix closed his eyes for a moment remembering his childhood in Rome. Somewhere in the trees, a thrush sang a lonely song. He remembered the taunts from the other boys about his parentage. Many times he had fought defending his birthright. Marcus and Valeria were his friends, but then as now, he realized that he was an outsider. He opened his eyes and stared out across the water. It reminded him of the pond near Nemu's home.

Nemu. The present sounds of laughter and the soft snuffling sounds of the horses faded away. He thought of Nemu and how she, too, was an outsider living alone in the forest. They were more alike than he had previously thought. She was out there somewhere and the temptation to find her grew inside of him. "Ambiorix, come join us. It's time to eat." His thoughts were broken and he turned to see his wife smiling sweetly at him. The temptation to find Nemu slowly withered away inside of him. He couldn't hurt Valeria. Whether he liked it or not, his life was here with her. Chapter Eight The Gathering The bear stood on its hind legs and roared, showing two large razor sharp teeth. The foul odor of spoiled fish emanated from the giant beast. "Stand back!" Rhonwyn pushed Nemu back and drew her sword. "Are you crazy? You can't fight this beast with a sword!" Nemu looked on with apprehension. The bear towered over Rhonwyn, making her appear tiny and vulnerable, like a hare trying to fight a human. The bear lunged, a knife-sharp claw slicing through the air at Rhonwyn, missing her face by a finger length. With both hands, she gripped the hilt of iron, horn and bronze, inlayed with decorations of red enamel, and raised the sword high over her head. She swung her sword downward in an arc, slicing into the bear's shoulder. She made it seem so effortless, but Nemu still didn't think a sword could stop the giant beast. The bear screamed in pain, the sound piercing Nemu's ears. "Nemu, get out of here!" Rhonwyn hissed while keeping an eye on the bear. Nemu didn't want to reveal her secret to Rhonwyn, but now she had no choice. She saw the unbridled fury in the bear's eyes. This time it would not miss its target. Closing her eyes, she concentrated within and opened her mouth, emitting a high- pitched note that shattered the air around them. Rhonwyn dropped her sword and covered her ears with her hands. The bear stopped in its tracks and turned around, running away into the forest. Rhonwyn backed away from Nemu, fear in her eyes. "By the gods, w-what are you?" "You have nothing to fear from me. I won't hurt you." Nemu continued to walk down the path lined with yellow, purple and white wildflowers. Bright white star shaped flowers crawled across the path resembling snowflakes in the middle of summer. Rows of ash trees filled the forest beyond, the tall thin trunks standing as ghostly gray sentinels of the woodlands.

"Whoa. Wait. You can't just dismiss this. You have to tell me what you are." Rhonwyn strode along beside her, whistling for her pony. They had been walking the path to give the pony a rest when the bear ambushed them. The poor frightened beast took off into the woods. "Can you keep a secret? I don't even tell humans my real name for fear they will have power over me." "Nemu isn't your real name?" "No. It's the name my father gave me. You couldn't pronounce my birth name anyway even if I told you what it is." "I can keep a secret." Nemu pondered whether she could trust the warrior woman. "Well? What are you? No, wait, let me guess--a faery of some sort, though you don't look like any faery I've ever heard of." Rhonwyn studied her closely, reaching out to lift Nemu's hair aside so she could see her ears. "You have pointed ears like a faery." Nemu glanced at her, a wry smile on her lips. "My appearance has changed slightly, thanks to a talented druid." Rhonwyn studied her again. "You do have very white skin...hmm. I give up." Nemu decided that Rhonwyn could be trusted. "I am only half-faery, a water faery. I used to have large white wings." Her eyes grew sad. "I didn't realize just how much I would miss them." "Water faeries? I think I heard stories about them when I was very young. Something about a curse." "Yes, but I was never told anything about it. After my mother left, my father refused to talk about it." Her eyes looked haunted. "Being half-human I was able to stay here, but sometimes I miss my mother." "Why do you think they were cursed?" "I don't know." Nemu thought of the night her mother left. She remembered that moonless night as if it happened only yesterday. A fall chill and the bittersweet smell of wood smoke had filled the air. It was the only time she saw her father cry. The smell of wood smoke still brought tears to her eyes, reminding her of her loss. The pony came crashing out of the forest. "Whoa boy." Rhonwyn nimbly plucked the reins from the stumbling beast and it calmed instantly. She resumed walking beside Nemu. "So why did you have your wings removed?" "Because I thought Ambiorix would accept me if I was more human," Nemu answered with bitterness in her voice. "Even if Ambiorix did want you, he was betrothed to Valeria since they were young children. Cavarinus told me." Nemu stopped. "Since they were children?" "He didn't tell you that?" "No. How could I have been such a fool?" "I don't think you are a fool." Rhonwyn patted Nemu's shoulder. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but after awhile it won't hurt anymore." Nemu smiled, blinking back tears. "I'm glad we met. I have enjoyed your company." "If it wasn't for Ambiorix, we would never have met at all," Rhonwyn said. "At least he is good for something." Nemu curled her hand into a fist, crushing the rage that burned inside her like a wildfire. --The forest gave way to wide open barren land, the southern borders of Caledonia. Nemu stopped in her tracks, staring at the golden brown hills that stretched far into the horizon. Everything looked so different in daylight. "It's so...empty." Beyond that barren land was her mountain home. For some reason she wasn't that excited about going home. An odd feeling of restlessness filled her heart. "Compared to the forest, it isn't much to look at, is it?" Rhonwyn glanced around. "It's getting late. Maybe we should stay in the forest tonight. I don't feel safe being out in the open without any protection." Nemu noticed that the shadows were growing, the light fading. She didn't feel comfortable out in the open either after living in a forest all her life. "I agree."

They found a nice place sheltered by an oak tree, the thick, wide, leafy branches spreading over them. Nemu plopped down under the tree. "I am too tired to hunt for any food." She pulled out a bag containing pine nuts, acorns and dried meat that she received from a kind family as payment in exchange for her singing. She offered some to Rhonwyn. After unsaddling the pony and leaving him to graze, Rhonwyn plopped down next to her. "Me too." She took the food offered to her. "Many thanks for the food." Nemu leaned back against the wide tree trunk. "So, why are you traveling so far north?" "There is a gathering of Celtic tribes and I am going to join them." She pulled out a crudely drawn map on papyrus and showed it to Nemu. It showed a route to the northeast over the mountains and near a long river and an inlet leading out to the North Sea. "My mountain home is around here." She pointed to the eastern part of the mountain range. "After we reach my home, I can show you where the pass is that leads through the mountains. From there, you should be able to follow the map to the gathering." Nemu thought of Aberth and how he talked about going north to join the druids. "Can anyone go there?" Rhonwyn stopped eating and looked at her. "Anyone but a Roman. Do you want to come along?" Nemu shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe. Is that where you are from?" Rhonwyn had a sad look in her eyes. "No. The Romans took my home from me." Nemu looked down, thinking how awful that must be. "Where was your home?" "It was the most beautiful island." She looked around. "Even more beautiful than this place." A dreamy look filled her eyes. "I remember golden sunsets and rainbows that plunged into the deep green water. There were groves filled with the tallest oak trees...and then the Romans came." "What happened?" "I was only a baby the first time they came, killing my family and most of my tribe, the Deceangli, and burning down the sacred groves. I only survived because my mother hid me." She looked away as if the memories were too painful to recall. Nemu reached over and touched her hand. "I am so sorry." She felt some guilt for what happened to Rhonwyn. "At least the second time they came, I killed some of them. But in the end, they drove us out of our home." Vengeance filled her eyes. "And I hope to kill more again soon." She sat back against the trunk next to Nemu. "I am curious. Why were you at the villa socializing with the Romans?" Rhonwyn laughed. "It was all a show so they don't suspect anything. You don't know how badly I wanted to cut all of their throats." Nemu shivered at the sound of pure hatred in Rhonwyn's voice. Rhonwyn stifled a yawn. "We should get some sleep. We have a long way to travel tomorrow." Nemu closed her eyes, but she couldn't fall asleep right away. She kept thinking of what the Romans did to Rhonwyn. --The fading late summer sun slowly descended behind scattered clouds, a stray sunburst filling the darkening sky. Shadows deepened, layered in shades of blue and purple. Weary and dusty from traveling all day, Nemu slumped in the saddle behind Rhonwyn. She thought she heard water running somewhere below a row of thick woodlands. "I hear water from over there," she said, pointing at the woodlands. Rhonwyn pulled back on the reins, halting the pony. Nemu leapt off the pony. "Follow me!" Rhonwyn followed her on foot, leading her pony by the reins down a gradual descent into thick woodlands. As they reached the bottom, Nemu felt moisture in the air. Rhonwyn stood beside her, gasping in surprise. It was a breathtaking sight. Twin silver water falls flowed over jagged rocks into two pools of clear water surrounded by heavy green woodlands.

"It is a different world down here." Nemu watched a snail slither across moss covered rocks. Mist spray from the falls cooled her flushed cheeks. She wasted no time in stripping off her clothes and playfully splashing in the cool water. "Join me. The water feels wonderful." Tearing off her clothes as fast as she could, Rhonwyn jumped into the water, splashing Nemu. They playfully splashed each other, laughing. Nemu realized that she was having fun, temporarily forgetting Ambiorix. The pony stood on the shore, dipping his brown head to drink from the water. Occasionally, he would lift his head toward them, shake his shaggy dark mane, and then resume drinking from the clear pool. Suddenly, the pony neighed and nervously stamped his hoof. "Something has him spooked." Rhonwyn was out of the water in a flash, grabbing her sword. With her other hand, she pulled her trousers on. Nemu jumped out of the water and quickly pulled on her tunic. Grabbing the clothes and bags, she followed a bare-breasted Rhonwyn behind a large boulder. Rhonwyn patted the pony's rump, sending him racing up the hill. "What was that?" The gruff voice speaking in Latin came from downstream. Nemu carefully peeked around the boulder and saw two Roman soldiers standing on the other side, looking in their direction. She held her breath. "It was probably just a deer," answered a different male voice in Latin. Nemu carefully peeked around the boulder again and saw the two soldiers kneel by the water to fill up their water skins. Nemu and Rhonwyn stayed hidden behind the rock until the soldiers disappeared into the woodlands on the other side. "That was a close call." Rhonwyn finished dressing. Nemu couldn't help admiring her large breasts. Her own breasts were small. She quickly averted her eyes when Rhonwyn caught her staring. "We must be near the entrance to the Highlands. It appears not all of the Romans have pulled out of the forts. We will have to be more cautious until we reach the mountains." Nemu fastened her ankle boots. They made their way up the thick forest, the creeping darkness making the climb difficult, low hanging branches appearing out of nowhere clawing at their skin and clothes. Nemu led the way, her preternatural eyes piercing the darkness. The pony waited for them at the top, shaking his head and neighing softly when he saw them. A sliver of a moon smiled down upon them. "We should rest for a while and then travel some more in the darkness." Rhonwyn picked up the pony's reigns. "I agree." Nemu knew it would be more difficult for the Romans to see them. They found a well-hidden spot to rest, surrounded by bushes and trees. As a precaution, they didn't build a fire, so their meal consisted of raspberries that they had gathered from a nearby bush, along with the rest of the dried meat. Rhonwyn sat against a tree, her sword at her side. Nemu couldn't see her face clearly, but knew she had an intense fierce look in her green eyes. She knew Rhonwyn wouldn't hesitate to kill any Roman that came near them and she had good reason to hate them so much. Nemu lay down under the tree, using her leather bag as a pillow, and stared up at the night sky through a gap in the outstretched branches. She had seen many night skies in her long life and it hadn't changed much, but tonight the sky looked different to her. The stars weren't as bright and the moon not as friendly. Danger lurked within the shadows on earth, reflecting in the sky above. She couldn't live with that danger anymore. --While Rhonwyn patiently waited nearby, Nemu silently bid her home goodbye. There was no reason for her to stay hidden from the world anymore and now a new fire burned within her, a renewed hatred for the Roman invaders. She had decided to go with Rhonwyn to the gathering of the tribes.

She realized she was about to break her vow to stay out of human affairs, but after hearing the heartbreaking stories from Aberth and then Rhonwyn, she felt she had to help them fight the Romans. Glancing around, she noticed how the golden light of the sun danced on the pond's surface like faery dust. The moon's silver blue rays had done the same, but it was much more brilliant in the daylight and the colors were different. She noticed something else that was new to her. The trees and sky were reflected in the pond's surface, green leaves against a blue background, a mirror image of the scene above. At night the reflections were bland, the brilliant colors lost in the darkness. Stepping closer to the pond she noticed that the water had a green tint and shimmered like an emerald stone. For some reason, Nemu felt a strange emptiness fill her heart as she stood staring at the only home she had ever known. She looked around one last time before leaving the clearing, whispering, "Goodbye, my Lochan Uaine." --Thousands of people from various tribes had gathered to hear their leaders speak. The various tribes were camped in and around a wide green valley that was surrounded by thick dark forests of pine trees, the tangy fresh smell of pine needles filling the air. A large rectangular hillfort, enclosed within two steep ramparts, covered the top of a high ridge. Massive walls made of timber-laced stonework surrounded the enclosure. Rhonwyn left her pony to graze and she followed Nemu up the path to the hillfort. From the top of the hillfort, Nemu saw the Red Hill Mountains to the south and west. To the north was a broad view of a mountainous island and a wide body of water with a river flowing into an inlet leading out to the sea. To the south, portions of a dark loch peeked through mist filled woodlands and hills. She instantly felt at home. The whole valley below was visible. Roundhouses, with animal pens and gardens enclosed by timber fences, sporadically adorned the emerald valley floor. New roundhouses were being built, their timberframed skeletons dotting the landscape. Nemu imagined the chieftain standing in this very spot surveying the surrounding farmlands under his sway. They descended to the valley, walking around, searching for familiar faces, when they were distracted by loud shouts from the far west end of the camp. They followed the shouts to find a circle of people gathered around, shouting and cheering. "Let's see what's going on." Rhonwyn hurried over to the crowd. At six feet, Rhonwyn easily squeezed through the wall of people. Nemu followed behind her. When they reached the front row, Nemu saw two men fighting each other with swords. "They are fighting!" "It's a warrior competition!" Rhonwyn exclaimed, her eyes filled with excitement. "They fight until one draws blood on his opponent." She hooted and hollered along with the rest of the crowd that consisted of more males than females. The heavy stench of male sweat and ale filled the air. Nemu felt light- headed. "Who will challenge the champion?" a large hairy man shouted from the ring. The crowd was silent. Nemu thought the champion was one of the biggest men she had ever seen. "He's a giant," she whispered to Rhonwyn. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall," Rhonwyn responded. No one spoke up to challenge him. "What a bunch of cowards," Rhonwyn said, rolling her eyes. "I will challenge him!" Rhonwyn removed her cloak and handed it to Nemu. The crowd went wild. "Are you crazy?" Nemu asked. "Watch me work my magic." Rhonwyn winked at Nemu and entered the ring. Rhonwyn was a little faster than the giant was, but the giant had strength. When his enormous sword hit Rhonwyn's shield, Nemu cringed at the thunderous sound. She could almost feel the shock waves coursing through Rhonwyn's body from the blow. But Rhonwyn was no weakling; her taut biceps

glistened with perspiration as she held her ground. Nemu thought that maybe Rhonwyn had a special magic and that all of her strength was sealed in the thick red braid that looked like copper in the sunlight, and she wondered what would happen if it were cut off. Nemu had never held a weapon except for a bone dagger because she couldn't handle anything made of iron. She was amazed at the speed and accuracy that was being displayed with the sword. She found herself joining in with all the other cheers and jeers. The crowd cheered when Rhonwyn would deliver a potentially winning sword thrust. The giant was beginning to show signs of fatigue, his movements slow and off target. Rhonwyn moved like a cat, light on the balls of her feet, parrying his blows, and delivered an inside thrust that drew first blood on her opponent. The crowd roared in approval. Rhonwyn was declared the new champion. "She is a magnificent warrior, is she not?" The familiar voice came from beside her. "Aberth!" He was wearing a white-hooded robe and around his neck hung an amulet, a small black leather pouch probably filled with sacred soil and power stones for protection. The crowd had parted to make room for the druid. "If I remember correctly...the last time we met, you said you don't get involved in human affairs." His blue eyes sparkled with amusement from beneath his hood. Nemu's cheeks burned. "You don't look surprised to see me." He smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. The crowd started yelling again. "Can we go somewhere to talk?" Aberth shouted above the crowd. Nemu glanced over at Rhonwyn. She was engaging in another mock battle, so Nemu nodded to Aberth. The crowd parted, making a wide path for him as if a ring of fire surrounded him. Nemu followed him through the opening. She noticed that most of the people wouldn't make eye contact with him and some backed away in fear of the druid. They found a quiet spot under a stand of ash trees. A fallen trunk served as a seat for Aberth. Nemu laid the cloak down and sprawled down on the grass. He removed his hood. "I didn't know you were acquainted with the warrior, Rhonwyn." "We traveled here together." "I see...so what made you change your mind?" "I missed my homeland." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "It pleases me to see you again." "And I you." She gave him a knowing look. "Have you been happy with your new form?" "Yes. I enjoy blending in--and I enjoy seeing the colors of daylight. If it weren't for the ignorance of your men, I never would have discovered that I don't melt in sunlight." She picked up a fallen ash leaf, turning it over in her palm, admiring the shape that resembled a feather. "And you, Aberth, how is your leg?" "Much better. The technique you showed me relaxes the muscles and eases the pain some." She placed the leaf on the palm of her hand and watched the helpless leaf carried away by a sudden breeze. "Do you think the Romans can be defeated? They have ruled for a very long time now." Distant cheers from the warrior games, floated on the air. "No. We cannot defeat them, but it's possible we can keep them from crossing into the Highlands." "Will the tribes agree to follow one leader?" "Yes, but not Calgacus." "Calgacus is a fine leader." His blue eyes filled with wonder. "I thought you didn't get involved in human affairs." She shrugged, smiling at him, a clever gleam in her eyes. "Maybe I overheard a few conversations." "Calgacus is a fine leader, but some of the tribes don't trust him." "Then who would lead them?" "The spirits have named someone--a young Roman/Celt warrior of noble blood. There is a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" He nodded. "The problem is he doesn't know his destiny yet. I was hoping you could help us. As I already told you, most of the druids have been killed and we are lacking magical knowledge. The sacrifices we have offered are not working." "How? My skills are in the healing arts." He arched a brow, his piercing blue eyes appearing to look right through her. "I have a confession to make. When you told me your name, I knew who you were. History is very important to our people. There is a story passed down to all the druid orders about a half-human, half-faery woman named Nemu who joins the druid order..." He reached over, touching her hand. His hand was warm and comforting like the water in her pond during the summer season. She felt her face burn. "That was a long time ago." Looking away, she stared at the forest, but instead saw the past flash before her eyes. "I can't help you the way you want me to." "Now is your chance to redeem yourself. You are part of the prophecy too." "Why didn't you tell me that before?" He shrugged. "Would it have made a difference?" "No." She looked at him, eyes narrowed. "What else do you see?" "Nothing else. I only know that it is important that you join us." "I...I don't know. You know what happened the last time I used magic to fight the Romans." "Do you want to talk about it?" "No. I don't like to think about what happened." She looked away, forcing the memories back down. "I want to hear more about this prophecy." "I will tell you everything. Meet me here tonight." He slowly stood with the help of his staff. "Wait. You haven't told me what you want me to do." "We will talk tonight." "No. Tell me now." She could tell he was avoiding the subject. Silver hair framed his face. His flowing beard hid most of his features, but his eyes were visible and though lined with age, were bright and the deepest shade of blue she had seen in a long time. He didn't just remind her of someone from her past. When she looked into Aberth's eyes, she was seeing someone else. She felt a stab of pain in her heart at the memory. He glanced around to make sure they were alone. "Very well. First, we need to summon our new leader. Then we must...summon the dragon." "It is dangerous to summon the dragon! You of all people should know that!" She jumped to her feet, eyes narrowed at him. "That's why I need your help." "You don't know what you are asking me to do. It calls for a great sacrifice." She turned away from him. "I need more time to think this over." "I am well aware of the sacrifice, but I will need your answer soon. The Romans are sending a legion into the Highlands." She turned toward him. "You will have your answer tomorrow." "When you are finished here, come up to the hillfort. I will show you where you will be staying." He raised his hood and hobbled away, leaning on his oak staff. The ash trees stood around her, gray branches spread wide like open arms. She pressed her palm and cheek to the thin furrowed bark of the trunk, silently calling to the spirit that inhabited the tree. The leaves swayed back and forth, pushed by a light breeze. Vibrations coursed through her body and she closed her eyes, listening to the whispering of the trees. The trees remembered. They remembered what happened the last time the dragon was summoned. Chapter Nine Destiny As the servants cleared the dinner plates, Ambiorix and Valeria reclined on the low couches in the triclinium, enjoying some Falernian wine.

"This wine could use some more water. Only barbarians drink wine this strong." She placed her cup on the ornately carved wooden table and sat on the edge of his couch, stroking his hair. "I think it tastes fine the way it is." "You would," she teased, pressing her large breasts into his face. Her soft breasts brushed his cheek and he found himself becoming aroused. He drained his cup and pulled her down on top of him. "Ambiorix! Not in front of the servants!" He pulled her up and guided her into the master sleeping quarters. He whispered in her ear, his voice husky with desire, "I am very lucky to have such a beautiful wife." He gently kissed her soft full lips, then her tender pale throat. She smelled of lavender, sweet and sensual. "No, husband. It is I who am the lucky one. Most of my friends are wed to old ugly men." Her moist tongue circled his earlobe and a moan rose from deep within his throat. His manhood swelled, nearly bursting from his trousers. He pulled off her tunic and laid her on the sleeping couch. "Allow me," she purred, pulling down his trousers and grasping his manhood. A chill coursed through his body straight to his groin. Valeria wasn't shy when it came to lovemaking. Soft moans escaped her lips when he entered her. He thrust deep inside her. She responded, her soft woman flower squeezing his manhood, pulling him deeper. Their moans mingled together creating an urgent rhythm. Valeria arched her back, crying out and gripping the bed sheets. "Nemu," Ambiorix moaned, exploding, spilling his seed inside her then collapsed onto the bed, falling into an exhausted, drunken sleep. He dreamed of silver mists that wrapped around him like the silken threads of a spider's web. When the mist parted, he found himself dressed like a Celtic warrior standing on a highland moor. Surrounding him on the wind swept moor were other Celtic warriors, their skin painted with the ancient blue symbols. His own arm bore a mysterious blue dragon. They watched him, waiting for a command. He saw the Roman camp and he realized he was there to fight the Roman army. "We wait until dark," he told them and they accepted his command without question. The vision faded and the silver mists released him. He awoke, gasping for air, his heart beating furiously inside his chest. The remnants of the dream still lingered in his mind. This was the second time he had seen this vision. The first time had been in the Mithras temple inside the raging flames of the fire ritual. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the far wall decorated with a painting of a white gazebo sitting on a hill with bright blue sky in the background, flowers and greenery in the foreground. He had this room painted with scenes of Rome especially for Valeria so she wouldn't be homesick. The scenes of Rome did nothing for him. He felt at home here in the strange land of mists and trees. He ran his fingers through his hair, taming the wild strands. There was someone he urgently needed to see in Londinium. He couldn't shake the strange feeling he had and he needed to know the truth about his birth. After pulling on his tunic and trousers, he paused, noticing he was alone in the room. The dream had captured his thoughts so much that he hadn't noticed the absence of Valeria from the bed. He pulled back the striped curtain covering the doorway to the adjacent dressing room, but she wasn't there. It was unusual for her to be up and dressed so early in the morning. Then he noticed that the vision in his right eye was normal, not blurred. The doctors told him he would never have normal vision out of that eye again. He thought of the strangeness of the dream and wondered if enchantment was involved with the healing of his damaged eye. There was something else he remembered from the dream--the faint smell of wildflowers. He met Valeria on his way to the stables. She looked disheveled and surprised to see him. She also looked angry. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "Why should you care!" She stared fiercely at him with eyes like the night sky. "What is wrong with you?"

"Who is Nemu? Is she your barbarian lover?" "What?" "Last night during our lovemaking, you called out a name...Nemu." "I don't remember." "Well, I do." She attempted to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. "Where were you?" He held onto her arm. Her eyes shifted downward for a moment. "My friend, Julia, is ill. I didn't want to wake you so I had Taran drive me there. Fiona should have told you." He had the feeling she was lying, but decided not to say anything. "Well, she didn't." Valeria bristled. "She deserves a beating for that!" "There will be no beatings in my house!" "She is my slave. I will beat her myself." Valeria attempted to push past him, but he tightened his grip on her arm. He stared at her in disbelief. She used to be so gentle and kind. Valeria had insisted on having her own slave and he had reluctantly given in to her. "You will not take out your anger at me on Fiona. If you touch her, I will administer a beating on you, woman!" "You wouldn't dare!" "Try me." He squeezed her arm to let her know he meant it. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Sometimes I hate you, Ambiorix," she hissed. "You are much too soft on these barbarians and I hate this dreadful place! I only married you because my uncle forced me to!" She wrung herself from his grasp and fled into the house. He stood there stunned as if she had slapped him across the face. He would have to deal with her when he returned. --Londinium came into view, bustling with life. Merchants and traders flocked to the town, a major trade route in Britannia. Here wine, fruits such as dates, and the fine reddish brown Samian pottery were imported to Britannia, and items such as iron and gold were exported to Rome. The main road was so overcrowded with people and wagons that a Roman soldier had to direct the traffic. The din of wagons and people made his head spin. Delicious food smells mingled with sour human and animal smells, clogging the air. Ambiorix coaxed his horse down the main road, passing the grand pillared structures in the center of town. A feeling of déjà vu passed over him. He felt as if he were back in Rome again. He passed the forum, or marketplace, that was the center of judicial and public business. The impressive building constructed with a portico of columns and topped with a red tiled roof was the heart of the city. An archway in the center of the building opened onto a courtyard. The oblong-shaped building at the end of the rectangular courtyard, the basilica, was used for a court of justice and place of public assembly. The provincial governor and his staff had offices there. Indeed, the grand structures towered over the city like giant man-made mountains, but they were small in comparison to Rome's great buildings. He imagined the toga-clad men with pasty skin and fat bodies, gathered together discussing city issues. That kind of life wasn't for him. He was much happier living outside of the city. Ambiorix rode from the shadows of the buildings. He would keep his promise to Marcus and meet with the governor, but first he had something else to take care of. His destination was at the edge of town where the more affluent lived. The shabby storefronts soon disappeared and sprawling villas came into view. The air wasn't so stifling here where fresh flowers bloomed, spilling their sweet fragrance skyward. He turned down a side road and into his mother's tree-lined courtyard. Fall colors dazzled his eyes; brilliant orange and red leaves filled the trees. A servant greeted him and took his horse to the stables. His mother greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "What a pleasant surprise!" She stared at his face, a perplexed look in her eyes. "Your eye. It looks healed."

"It is," he responded matter-of-factly. The last time he had seen his mother was when she came to visit him while he was recovering from his injuries. She smiled. "You are just like your father." "Is that so?" His voice was filled with sarcasm. "Ambiorix, are you feeling well?" "I'm fine." Tension stirred the air between them. "Are you here on business?" "Yes, but I also came to see you, Mother. There's something I need to ask you." She noticed the intensity in his eyes and serious tone of his voice because she looked away for a moment as if she knew what he was about to ask her. "Would you like to relax in the bath and wash the road dust from your body before we talk?" "No." "How about some wine?" "No." "Well, I need some wine." She called for her servant. With wine goblet in hand, she turned to him. "Let's sit in the garden where we can speak in private." He nodded, following her outside. She was elegant, dressed in the finest tunic, her tall body showing no signs of aging. She still moved with the grace of a much younger woman. They sat on a low stone bench surrounded on the back and sides by neat rows of hedges. In front of the bench was a fountain with a statue of the love goddess, Venus, standing in the center. She was naked from the waist up revealing large ripe breasts upon which perched a songbird. The only sound was the gentle trickling of the water circulating through the fountain. "How did you know?" she spoke, almost in a whisper. "I had a dream." He wasn't surprised that his mother knew why he was there. His mother always had the uncanny talent to know what was going to happen. "Ah." She sipped the wine, her hand visibly shaking. "Tell me about my real father." "If I tell you, you must promise not to do anything foolish." "Tell me about my real father," he commanded, raising his voice while clenching and unclenching his fist. The songbird, startled by his deep voice, took off in a flutter of feathers, rippling the surface of the water. "I knew this day would come..." Her hand holding the wine goblet trembled. She cupped it securely with both hands. "I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on your father. He arrived on horseback to meet with the Dumnonii kings. His hair was long and spiked on top and he wore a brightly colored cloak and gold embroidered tunic with striped trousers. Gold jewelry adorned his tall, muscular body. He was of noble blood and it showed. I remember that all of the young women were talking about him." She smiled, her eyes dreamy. She sighed, looking down at her wine goblet. "He was there to warn us about the Romans and how they would act as our friend and then take over our tribe like they did to his tribe in Gaul, but the kings wouldn't listen to him. He was invited to stay awhile and soon we were spending a lot of time together. We were to wed the following spring, but your father, so stubborn and proud, refused to give in to the Romans...and he was killed." "He died by Roman hands?" She nodded. Her hand moved instinctively to her wrist, touching a delicate silver bracelet of interlocking circles. "This was the last gift he ever gave me." He thought he saw tears in her eyes. "I loved your father very much. Unlike Roman women, we could choose our husbands." She looked at Ambiorix, noticing the anger in his eyes. "You have your father's eyes. You are so much like him that I fear for you. You even share the same name."

"My father died by Roman hands and you let me grow up believing I was Roman? Letting me believe I was named after an uncle! You let me believe and I swore an oath to fight for Rome!" He felt like his head was going to explode. "It was best that you didn't know. By telling you the truth, I would have put you in danger. I lost your father and I wasn't about to lose you, too!" Her blue eyes blazed with anger and he was taken by surprise at the passion she displayed. "Did Suetonius know I wasn't his?" She lowered her eyes. "He never said anything, but I think he knew you weren't his child. He was a good man and he loved us both." "He sent me away. Agricola was more of a father to me than Suetonius was." "Stop being so ungrateful! He was a good man. He saved our lives. The tribes that resisted Rome were severely punished, but Suetonius spared us that fate." "And that's supposed to make me feel better? That we were saved while the rest of our tribe was massacred? You have lived in your affluent Roman world while others have suffered." "How dare you talk to me that way!" Her eyes blazed like two brilliant torches. "You benefited from that life, too. It didn't seem to bother you when you were killing for Rome in the north, working your way up the ranks of the military." Her words were like a punch in the stomach. "You know nothing of how I feel or what it feels like to look a man in the eyes before you take his life." He met her gaze with his own blazing stare. She lowered her eyes. "Perhaps you are right. I bore you from my body, but I don't really know you, your hopes, or your fears...But I do know you are stubborn like your father and I beg you to be careful. You are married now and you have a prosperous civilian position. Start a family and forget about what happened to your father." She reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled his hand away, refusing to look at her. "How could you leave your husband, my father, to die?" "Some things are best left alone and not spoken of out loud, Ambiorix." "I think it's time you did speak of them." "Your father left me. You see, a handful of us left the safety of the hillfort and went in search of other warriors to help resist Rome." She touched the silver bracelet as if the memories were stored inside the metal. "You said before that I didn't understand what it was like to look a man in the eyes before taking his life. Well, I do know what that feeling is like. I fought along side your father and I took many lives." Ambiorix could only look at her, speechless. She smiled. "Don't look so shocked. There were many women warriors in my tribe." She was a tall woman, nearly as tall as he was. He just couldn't picture his mother wielding a sword and spilling blood. "I tried to hide my pregnancy from him, but when your father discovered I was pregnant with you, he left me at the camp while he raided a Roman settlement. I wouldn't admit it, but I was relieved that he did that. I would have been more than willing to die with him, but I wasn't about to sacrifice my only child." She paused, tenderly stroking the bracelet. "Your father was killed and our camp discovered by the Romans. I was taken prisoner to stand before the new Roman governor, Suetonius Paulinus. He took a liking to me and I had no fight left in me. I had a choice to marry him or be sold into slavery." He reached over, clasping her hand. "I'm sorry I accused you, Mother. You are the bravest person I know." She smiled, wiping her eyes. "You know, I never told you about the night you were born. It was the day of the Iceni revolt. You were born in the land of the Dumnonii because I sensed something might happen and I insisted on leaving our villa near Camulodunum to have my baby since Suetonius and his army was not there to protect us. The Iceni revolted and Camulodunum and Londinium were burnt to the ground, as was our villa. Roman citizens were slaughtered like helpless cattle." She stared at the fountain, a faraway look in her eyes. "The priestess who helped with your birth said that the gods had marked you." She gripped his hand. "This dream you had. It reeks of enchantment. I don't know by who, or what, but you are being called upon. I see death if you answer that call." Her voice wavered.

He stared at the rippling water in the fountain. Thoughts of Nemu filled his head and how she had condemned the Romans for forcing their ways on others. Standing, he walked over to the fountain, dipping his hand into the cool water, feeling the energy of the liquid that created and sustained life. He wanted to answer the call, but he couldn't run off and leave his wife and his responsibilities. He wasn't even sure that Nemu was the one he sensed in his dream, the one who called to him. It took all of his will power to resist the burning desire within to run away, to surrender to the dream. Everything he had believed in was crushed, lost in oblivion. His meeting with the governor was forgotten for a moment. How could he persuade him to send a legion into Caledonia now? The dark enemy grew brighter, the lines fading into one. He didn't know who he was any longer. Chapter Ten The Promise "He asks a lot of me...and I don't know if I have made the right decision to come here." Nemu took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. After Aberth had revealed to her the entire prophecy, she had reluctantly agreed to help, but she still wouldn't promise him that she would help raise the dragon. She looked around at her new home that she shared with Rhonwyn. The roundhouse was made of wattle and daub and plastered with a mixture of clay, straw and manure. Nemu had managed to rid the house of the lingering manure stench by filling the house with sweet scented herbs. Sitting by the fire, on a seat made of wood and leather, she stared at the far wall painted with a blue dragon. On one side of the room was Rhonwyn's bed, a raised wooden platform filled with straw and covered in animal furs. All of her weapons hung on the wall near her bed surrounding her bronze battle shield decorated with a raven, sign of the warrior goddess. Nemu's side of the room was bare except for a wooden chest and a bed like Rhonwyn's. Animal furs from sheep and cows covered the dirt floors, the faint smell of fresh skinned pelts hovering in the air. Clay pots sat near the fire next to a basket filled to the brim with dried peat to keep the fire burning. Herbs and meat hung in the rafters to dry in the gathering smoke, which helped preserve the meat. It almost felt like home to her. Rhonwyn lay on her side on her soft bed of furs, head propped up by her arm. She had a thoughtful expression on her face, the soft golden firelight reflecting in her eyes like the flickering glowing faery lights seen near meadows at sunset. The mysterious lights were thought to be wandering souls of discarnate humans or the lights of faery revels. "What are you so afraid of?" "I was involved in human affairs once before and the results were disastrous. It happened long before you were born." Rhonwyn arched her brow, and in a teasing tone, asked, "Just how old are you?" Nemu frowned, remembering the past. "I am old enough to know that the Romans won't be easy to conquer. I had a chance to stop them once. Now they have spread like a thick fog, covering the entire island." "You couldn't have known..." "I should have kept my promise." Rhonwyn pulled herself up and went over to Nemu. "You look so tense. Let me help you relax." She rubbed Nemu's shoulders, her strong hands loosening the tension. "Ahh...you have magical hands," Nemu whispered dreamily, her eyes half closed. "I can show you more," Rhonwyn whispered, her hands sliding lower, brushing Nemu's breasts. Nemu responded to the sensual touch, her nipples hardening into sword tips. A female's touch was new to her. Rhonwyn's hands were gentle, but precise. A pleasant tingling sensation erupted in her lower regions and she unconsciously let out a soft moan. Shouts outside their shelter roused Nemu from her blissful state. Grabbing her sword, Rhonwyn hurried outside with Nemu, coming face to face with one of the druids. He motioned for Nemu to follow him. "Hurry. It's Aberth."

Nemu's brow creased with worry. Aberth had looked pale the last few days, but he claimed he was feeling fine. She hurried down the path to Aberth's house. The roundhouses were arranged in a circle around a courtyard. The druids and the initiates lived at the far end of the hillfort while the tribal chieftains and their families, along with a few craftsmen, lived at the front of the hillfort. Between the druid homes and the rest of the roundhouses were the animal pens that held goats, sheep, cows, pigs and horses. In the center of the hillfort sat a rectangular structure used for meetings and rituals. Trees and bushes, now filled with the yellow and gold of autumn, lined the perimeter and dotted the interior, offering privacy and protection from the elements. Aberth's sparsely decorated house smelled of sickness. Hot and stifling air clung to the walls and dirt floor, mingling with the thick smell of peat smoke from the central fire. He lay on a pallet, his breathing shallow. "Nemu..." he whispered. An initiate, a young girl that Nemu didn't know, stood nearby with a worried look on her face. Nemu gestured for her to leave. She would tend to his needs now. Nemu had to bend down close to his mouth to hear him. Taking a damp rag that was draped over a pitcher, she gently squeezed some water onto his cracked, dry lips. "Nemu, you must promise me..." She touched his hand. It was ice cold like a river stone and she knew he was close to the end. "Aberth..." She had no words of comfort for him, not understanding the short human life span. He was beyond the healing power of herbs now, and by the defeated look in his eyes, he knew this. "You...must do...what it takes...to drive the Romans away..." His blue eyes pleaded with her. "Promise me..." He gripped her hand. She was shocked at the strength of his grip. Her heartbeat pounded inside her chest like the thunderous roar of the marching Roman legions. She was already deeply involved with the Celtic people and their cause. It would be impossible for her to turn her back on him now and she felt that she owed him something. But would she be able to make

the sacrifice if it became necessary? She looked into his eyes again and felt all the despair and pain the Celts had suffered at the hands of the Romans. The guilt was too much for her to handle anymore. She forgot all about her feelings of regret. There was only one answer she could give him. "I promise." Satisfied, a weak smile crossed his lips and he closed his eyes. She felt for a heartbeat and the soft faint beat pulsed against her hand. She breathed a sigh of relief. He was only sleeping. She heard the other druids talking in low voices on the other side of the roundhouse. "Who will lead us now?" That voice belonged to Cartagh, the one who performed sacrifices. "Aberth has instructed me to give his staff to Nemu," answered Roric, the Master of Fire. "What?" "Shhh...we should go outside. You will disturb Aberth." They shuffled outside, but Nemu, with her keen hearing, heard what they were saying. "How dare Aberth let an outsider lead us! She has betrayed us before!" Cartagh hissed. "Aberth is wise and he chose her to lead us," responded Roric in a soothing voice. Nemu looked down at Aberth, his features relaxed and peaceful. Unspoken words raced around inside her head. Aberth, you silly old druid! What have you gotten me into? She sat with him through the night while the other druids stood outside chanting, guiding him safely to the other side, to the Otherworld, the resting place for the dead until the soul was reborn again. Sometime before dawn, he whispered to her, his voice like dry leaves crushed beneath a heel. "We will meet again." Squeezing her hand one last time, he closed his eyes and his heart ceased to beat. He slipped away during that magical time between times of dawn and dusk that Nemu loved so much. Thrushes chirped as if welcoming Aberth on his journey, stirring the early morning silence. She knew the Celts believed that their soul was reborn over and over again. That was why they were so fearless in battle. Pondering this thought, she remembered someone from her past.

She remembered another promise to another man, also a druid, who had striking blue eyes too much like Aberth's. This thought stayed with her as she stumbled past a worried looking Rhonwyn, and curled up into a ball onto her soft bed of furs, falling into a deep sleep. She dreamed. The dream was woven from memories long buried. ---

229 BC--Gaul, Territory of the Carnutes Now that all those she knew were long gone, Nemu left the forest and flew south, crossing the wide body of water. Remembering her father's warning about humans outside the forest, she stayed away from them--that is, until she came upon a gathering of humans chanting amidst a circle of stones. Their language was similar to her own so she was able to understand most of what they were saying. They were asking for help. Nemu lounged on a sturdy branch, peering down at the gathering. A full, brilliant moon illuminated the grove, bathing everything in silver light. The voices harmonized, the haunting melody building into an urgent intensity. Lulled by the hypnotic sound, Nemu felt her eyes closing and she relaxed, accidentally falling off of the slippery branch. Her wings saved her from falling hard to the ground, but the commotion she caused caught the attention of the chanters in the grove. The sudden silence that descended on the grove was chilling. She was sure they could hear the rapid fluttering of her heartbeat. They were all wearing robes with large hoods that hid their features, but Nemu could feel their eyes upon her. Her body was shaking, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she would have to appear brave and hopefully scare them away. Spreading her wings, she poised herself in a menacing stance like a bird of prey. All of them backed away, emitting gasps of shock, all except for one. Nemu felt the power emanating from him. He stepped forward, exclaiming, "The universe has answered our cry for help!" Nemu was dumbfounded and more than a little curious, so instead of flying off, she stood her ground, facing the hooded man. They talked all night. She learned his name was Cathbad and he was Arch Druid of the Carnutes. He told her of the Romans and their great armies that threatened them and their way of life. "And where are these Romans you speak of?" She saw no evidence of a large army. Cathbad looked to the sky. "They are coming. I have seen very disturbing patterns in the flight path of the birds. I have seen their great armies destroying our people. None of the sacrifices we have offered to the Creator have changed our fate." "Who are these Romans, this great enemy you fear so much?" "They are a southern race and they are arrogant and stubborn. They worship gods in their own image and they think that their way is the only way. They won't stop until they have defeated us and then we will be no better than slaves." He had a faraway look in his eyes as if he were gazing into a pool of dark water and seeing images of the future. She struck a bargain with him. In exchange for helping them fight the Romans, he would teach her about the secret druid order. But she was naïve, having lived most of her life in seclusion, and she didn't completely understand the sacrifice she would have to make to accomplish her task. --Nemu awoke to find that she was alone. She lay in bed staring at the central fire. The small peat fire burned, giving off an eerie orange glow, tiny flames pulsating like a heartbeat. The fire was alive, breathing, and consuming the peat, but Aberth was not, his heart still, forever silent. She lay there deep in thought, pondering how she was going to keep her promise, the words of the prophecy flowing through her mind. Maybe they could accomplish victory over the Romans without

raising the dragon. She hoped this new warrior, whoever he was, could successfully lead the fight against the Romans. That is, if he would answer the call to come unite the tribes. Rhonwyn poked her head inside, interrupting her thoughts. "Oh, good. You're awake. You have slept most of the day. The druids need to see you now. They are preparing Aberth for burial." Nemu rolled over onto her side. Rhonwyn came over and knelt next to her. "How are you feeling?" She touched Nemu's arm. "Fine." "I will send in one of the girls to help you dress." "Help me dress? Why?" Nemu stood and attempted to comb out her tangled hair with her fingers. "The druids requested it. Are you sure you are feeling up to this?" Rhonwyn peered at her, trying to see her face in the dim light. "I shouldn't be here." Nemu sat back down on her sleeping pallet, staring at the fire. "What are you talking about? This is your fight, too." "Is it?" Rhonwyn strode over and sat next to Nemu. "You were born here weren't you? And if the Romans continue to advance this far, the forests will be destroyed. Your home will be destroyed." Nemu shivered despite the warmth of the fire. "I'm afraid of what must be done to drive them away." Rhonwyn reached over and gently caressed Nemu's shoulder. "I'm scared, too." Nemu's shoulders quivered. She turned to Rhonwyn, her mouth curved up in laughter. "Y-you? You are afraid?" Rhonwyn bristled, narrowing her eyes. Nemu tried to talk between fits of laughter. "I'm sorry. It's just that I can't imagine you being scared." "Well, I'm glad you can see the humor in all of this." Her words were sharp, but Rhonwyn's mouth curved into a smile. Nemu wiped her eyes, the laughter ceasing. "You're right. We're in this together whether I realize that or not." Her expression was serious now, her eyes soft when she turned to face Rhonwyn. "You give me the strength for what is ahead and for that I am grateful." Rhonwyn leaned in, kissing Nemu on the mouth. Rhonwyn's kiss was soft and gentle, sending shivers throughout Nemu's body. It was more than just an innocent kiss and Nemu didn't pull away. *** Nemu helped with the preparation of Aberth's body for burial. With help from the other druids and initiates, she carefully washed his body with water from the sacred river. Water cleansed the soul, purifying it for the journey to the Otherworld. The hard lines that had marred his face were gone. He looked peaceful. She realized now that Aberth had known from the beginning that she would take his place. Nemu used a blue mixture made from woad to paint circular symbols on his forehead and chest. They were symbols of infinite life to ensure the rebirth of his soul. She placed an owl feather, for protection on his journey, inside his clasped hand. "Good-bye, my friend. Until we meet again." He was dressed in his finest robes and placed on a pallet inside the main meetinghouse until dusk. A guard was placed at the entrance to keep any wicked spirits out. Nemu stood outside the main meetinghouse. She looked down at the white robe she wore. The druid's robe didn't make her feel any different now, but after her initiation in the sacred grove tonight, she wondered if she would feel different. A small part of her wanted to run, to escape before she accepted the sacred vows, but Aberth's face filled her mind and she couldn't bring herself to do it. She noticed that the walkways were deserted. Not a sound was heard in the normally bustling village on top of the ridge. Not the laughter of children, or the barking of a dog. The death of a druid, especially an Arch Druid, was always a cause for concern. And there was good reason to be concerned. Nemu knew that what lay ahead did not bode well for anyone.

Her thoughts turned to Rhonwyn who waited for her at their roundhouse. She couldn't get the kiss out of her mind. She walked the path leading to her home and as she walked past the animal pens, she noticed that even the animals looked concerned. Somber eyes watched her walk by. She hesitated before entering the doorway. Rhonwyn stood when she saw Nemu, a hopeful expression on her face. Nemu went to her, wanting to feel a human's warm touch. She didn't want to be alone anymore. Rhonwyn held her, planting soft kisses on her lips and then down her neck. Nemu's troubled mind cleared, filled only with pleasure. But somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she wished that Ambiorix were the one holding and kissing her. *** At dusk, all the druids, including Nemu and three of the older initiates, gathered silently beneath the veil of darkness, and bearing Aberth's shrouded body passed single file outside the fortress walls and into the thick forest on the southwest side of the valley. Mother Earth seemed to mourn the druid's passing for the shadows stood still in a windless night, and the trees bowed in the motionless air as if grieving. Wood smoke lingered in the crisp fall air. As always, this reminded her of her mother and now it would also remind her of Aberth. A single tear rolled down her cheek. High stone arches, with human skulls set inside grooves, guarded the sacred burial site. The Celts believed that the immortal soul resided in the head. Celtic warriors would often take the heads of their enemies, believing that this was a way to control their souls. The heads were preserved in cedar oil and hung in the rafters or stored in wooden boxes. A low hum of unintelligible voices echoed inside her head. A sudden chill coursed up Nemu's spine. This was a very ancient place, much older then she was. Three ancient stone cairns held the remains of the mysterious race of people that lived in the forest long before the Celtic people. A sliver of moonlight, the time of new beginnings, illuminated the grove, turning everything silver blue. Some of the trees had begun to lose their leaves, the skeletal branches glowing eerily in the strange moonlight. The conical heaps of stones, arranged from northeast to southwest, looked ominous in the ghostly night. A hush descended on the grove; even the night creatures were silent as Aberth was carefully laid to rest beneath the stones and the ancient oak trees. She could feel all of their eyes upon her though their faces were hidden beneath the folds of their hoods. The feeling unsettled her. She wished Rhonwyn were here with her, but only the druids were allowed to know where one of their own was laid to rest. She was one of them now. "Go forth, and may your journey be a safe one to the Otherworld!" Roric shouted, raising his arms to the night sky. "We welcome the rebirth of your soul," answered all the druids in unison as they circled sunwise around Aberth's resting place. A sudden gentle breeze caressed her cheek, as if Aberth were saying goodbye to her, and trailing mist, like ghostly fingers, coiled around the trees and stones. Roric turned to Nemu and presented her with Aberth's great staff. It was taller than she was. She ran her hand along the smooth thick oak, feeling the intricately carved interlocking circles beneath her fingertips and finally tracing the large knot at the top carved into the shape of an eagle's head. "Druid" came from the Celtic word for "oak." Nemu felt the energy of the staff vibrate in her hand. She imagined Aberth soaring on the wind like an eagle, his spirit free. The druids formed a circle around her, their lips moving, chanting. The haunting voices sent a shiver up her spine and she felt her spirit leave her earthly body, hovering above the trees in the land of the gods. She looked down on the moonlit grove. A thought from a higher power entered her mind, 'I float on the wind, run free through the trees, I am the spirit of all, the wise one of the oak.' As her spirit floated back down to earth, she noticed a stag standing in the clearing just outside the circle. It watched her for a moment with thoughtful eyes and turned, disappearing into the mist-filled forest. "We welcome you to the circle, ancient one." "Do you accept the vows of the High Druid?" Nemu recognized Roric's gentle voice.

Without hesitation Nemu responded. "I do." She looked around at the six faces hidden by hoods and wished she could see their faces. From the conversation she had overheard the night Aberth died, she knew that not all welcomed her with open arms. Chapter Eleven The Long Cold Winter Ambiorix paused for a moment, admiring his stables. Ten rows of stables stood in a perfect line behind the main house. The brand new structures were notable against deep shadows cast by a faint winter sun and leafless gray trees. As many as five hundred horses could be housed and fed at one time and a total of twenty people worked the stables, a mixture of soldiers and civilians. He still couldn't believe all of it belonged to him. He gazed back down the wide path, lined with beech and apple trees, leading to the front courtyard and main house. A small courtyard filled with hedges and rows of wild flowers followed a cobblestone path that led to the colonnaded entrance of the house. The front of the main house had a rectangular stone foundation and timber frames topped with a slanted roof of gray slate. Ringed by leafless dull branches, the house looked out of place with its gray roof, vivid white-limewashed walls and the red brick lining eight round-headed windows and the base of the foundation. The house looked much too bright and happy to be sitting among skeletal branches and gloomy winter skies. Behind the kitchen, he had added a wing with a small stone bathhouse and latrines, with running water from a well on either side--one for males, one for females. Water from the bathhouse passed under the latrines, joining a pipe that released the wastewater far away from the house and drinking water. Another wing was added to the other side to provide more bedrooms. He smiled, feeling satisfaction. His was one of the finest villas in Britannia. He continued walking down the path toward the stables. People moved about grooming, inspecting and exercising the horses. Ambiorix liked to personally inspect the new horses and a new one had arrived that morning. He started at the hoof, running his hand up the leg and across the broad back, feeling the strong muscles ripple beneath his fingers. A large dark equine eye lazily watched him as he went about his business of inspecting the horse's hoof and leg for any signs of lameness. The Romans preferred horses with straight legs and hooves with moderate sized coronets, which was the part of a horse's foot between fetlock and hoof. The Numidian horses were tall and sturdy, but lithe enough to maneuver through the rough terrain of the Caledonian highlands. These horses were imported from the Roman province of Numidia, which was a land filled with many wondrous creatures such as lions, bears and panthers. The horse let out an exasperated snort. Ambiorix straightened up and patted the horse's back, smoothing down the course brown hair. "I know boy. I wouldn't enjoy this either." The horse answered him by turning his large head and snorting into Ambiorix's hair. He resumed his inspection. Immersed in his work, he could at least momentarily forget his troubles, the snorting and rustling of the horses easing his mind. There was an uncomfortable silence between him and his wife now. Upon his return from Londinium, Ambiorix noticed that Valeria avoided him as much as possible, only talking to him when she had to. When she did talk to him her voice was indifferent, cool. While he was in Londinium, she had moved her belongings into one of the guest bedrooms and no longer shared his bed. He realized that he didn't much care. If she wanted to be that way, then so be it. Besides, he was preoccupied with other thoughts. He kept thinking about the truth of his birth father and the dream that continued to plague him every night. The dream seemed so real. He resisted the urges that rose from somewhere in the darkness, from some part of him that was still unknown to him.

He had talked with Governor Lucullus as he had promised Marcus he would, but Lucullus would not give him an answer about deploying a legion into Caledonia until spring. Ambiorix was relieved that Lucullus wouldn't give him an answer. He wasn't sure he wanted more soldiers stomping into Caledonia and killing more innocent people. His people. Sighing, he paused from his work, running his hand through his hair. It is going to be a very long winter, he thought. --He had made an excellent choice when he bought the slave boy, Conare. He had never seen anyone, besides himself, who was a natural with horses. He watched as Conare saddled a young three-year-old stallion, talking softly to the horse in Gaelic. Conare rode the horse around the gyrus, a large circular corralled area, giving commands. The horse, which just a few days ago wouldn't let anyone ride it, was trotting obediently and obeying commands. Ambiorix stood with arms crossed, grinning with satisfaction. "Master!" Conare was looking in the direction of the road in front of the house. Ten Roman soldiers rode into the front courtyard and toward the stables. The light was beginning to fade, as the day grew late, so it was unusual for soldiers to be arriving at that time if they were there to collect some remounts. Ambiorix turned to greet them, waiting for the one in charge to dismount. "I am tribune Severus." He was very young and spoke with a hint of arrogance in his voice. Ambiorix knew Severus was a senator's son with no experience working his way up the military ranks. Ambiorix nodded. "Are you here for remounts?" "Yes, but we are also here to warn you." Ambiorix furrowed his brow. "Warn me?" "Yes. We just came from a villa to the west of here that was apparently attacked by renegade Celts." "Are you sure it was Celts and not bandits?" "Well..." The tribune looked back at a grizzled soldier for support. Ambiorix knew he was a professional seasoned soldier called a centurion. The centurion cleared his throat before speaking. "The poor souls were beheaded and the heads were missing. Clearly, a band of Celts are responsible." The tribune's face turned gray. He looked like he was going to be sick. Ambiorix had a sick feeling in his stomach as well. He knew his neighbors to the west. They were civilian Roman citizens, Lucius and Domitia, innocent people senselessly murdered. And apparently by a band of Celts, for only Celts were known to take the heads of their enemies, thus controlling their souls. Ambiorix licked his dry lips and turned to face the tribune. "I will send for Fiona and have her make room for your men in the barracks. I will have her ready a room for you in the main house. It is too late for you to travel back to the fort." The weary looking tribune nodded. "We thank you for your hospitality." It really is going to be a long winter, thought Ambiorix as he gazed out over a horizon now filled with sinister shadows and unknown dangers. *** It had been three weeks since the attacks on his neighbors. There had been no other attacks, but something was in the air; something loomed within the dark heavy clouds that covered the sun. Ambiorix could feel it and he grew restless inside. He sat at his writing desk, dipping the metal pen into the inkpot, filling in his records on the papyrus paper. Light golden stubble shadowed his face. He rubbed his eyes. The lack of sleep had irritated them, and his vision was blurry. He kept records on every transaction involving a horse, including supplies. Everything had to be reported to the provincial governor on a monthly basis. He paused in his writing, listening to the patter of November rain on the roof and against the shuttered window. It had been raining for four days now, endless and miserable. He struck the table with the pen, denting the wood. Restlessness overpowered him and he could no longer escape the dreams that had been plaguing him every night now.

"M-master?" Conare stood in the doorway of the office, dripping wet and looking like a drowned cat. His clothes stuck to his body, making him appear even smaller than he really was. "Come in, boy, and dry off by the fire." Ambiorix guided him over to the warm flames of the kitchen fireplace. "What is so urgent that you had to venture out in this miserable weather?" The boy was shivering, his shaking hand reaching inside his tunic to produce a piece of papyrus. The papyrus was remarkably dry. "A message...from Cavarinus, sir." Ambiorix read the message and a frown creased his brow. The message was one of urgency. "Come as soon as possible." --The next morning Ambiorix and Conare saddled their horses for a visit to Cavarinus despite the threatening rain. He felt confident that his home and stables would be well guarded while he was gone. The tribune, Severus, had left five soldiers to guard against any raids, and ten soldiers were already working there. Valeria, still pouting, didn't even bother to come out and bid him goodbye. The constant rain had made her mood even more ugly than usual and she barely spoke to him now. He knew she blamed him for her misery and for bringing her here. He didn't know what to do. The happy young girl he once knew was gone. In the spring he would send her home to her parents in Rome. He hoped that would brighten her spirits. Ambiorix turned his head to look one last time, hoping that maybe Valeria had changed her mind to come out and see him off. All he saw was an empty courtyard. Conare rode beside him and they rode in silence as they headed for the main road. Riding under gloomy skies, and draped in heavy gray cloaks with hoods covering their faces, they resembled guardians of the underworld. Light rain fell, the sound having a hypnotic effect on Ambiorix. The dream had visited him again last night disrupting his sleep. To keep himself focused, he pointed out to Conare objects such as trees, the gray clouds and the rainfall, teaching him the Latin names for each one. The boy repeated the names back to him. "Very good." Conare looked at him with admiration filling his blue eyes. Ambiorix felt proud of the boy. He felt a stab of regret, too. He knew Romans had slaughtered the boy's family. Ambiorix was filled with strange thoughts of doubt about everything he stood for and the dream made these thoughts more powerful and hard to ignore. He turned his attention to the soft plodding of the horses and the steady patter of rain. It would take all his strength to fight the urges growing inside of him. --Cavarinus greeted them with a big smile. Conare took the horses to the stables and Ambiorix followed Cavarinus into the winter triclinium, heated by the underground hypocaust, warming his cold, stiff joints. Cavarinus poured Falernian wine for both of them. They reclined on the Roman couches. "Is anything wrong?" His friend appeared to be fine. The only difference was his hair, which, normally kept short, had grown to his shoulders. "I needed to speak with you." Ambiorix's eyes swept over the grand mosaic floor decorated with the pagan god of wine, Dionysus. He remembered, with a touch of sadness, that the last time he was here was on his wedding day--the last time he saw Nemu. "Your urgent message made me think that maybe something happened here. My neighbors were savagely attacked and killed recently." "That is terrible news," Cavarinus said, sadly shaking his head. "Do you know who did it?"

"It looks like a band of Celts were responsible. The heads were missing." Ambiorix studied him, but could see nothing revealed in his face. "Do you know anything about the raids on innocent civilians?" "And why would I know anything about that?" Cavarinus looked at him, eyes narrowing into blue slits like cat's eyes. Ambiorix smiled wryly at his friend. "We can speak freely here between us. I know you still associate with enemies of Rome. At the Samhain festival last year I recognized a druid." Cavarinus seemed to ponder his next words. "Which brings us to why I called you here. Can I trust you? I feel I can trust you. You are not like other Romans." "As I said, we can speak freely here." The house was quiet. The servants were off doing their assigned duties and Brigid was nowhere to be seen. Light rain pattered on the roof like the footsteps of doom, long dead ghosts of battle. Conare was safe and warm in the stables. "The young slave, Conare, is that his name? Do you know much about him?" "Only that he has no family. He doesn't talk much." "His tribe, like the others that opposed Rome, was completely wiped out." Cavarinus studied him over the top of his wine goblet. Ambiorix looked down into his empty wine cup, frowning. "Is that why you called me here? To tell me something I am already well aware of?" He didn't ride here in the miserable rain to have his friend play games with him. "No. I am getting to that. More wine?" Cavarinus filled his own cup and paused, pitcher in hand, waiting for an answer from Ambiorix. Ambiorix nodded, holding out his goblet. He could sense his friend was nervous about something. "Do us both a favor. Get to the point of why you called me here." Cavarinus seemed to relax a little. He took a long drink from his goblet. "I feel I must help my people in any way I can, but I would never agree to the slaughter of innocents. I honestly don't know who did that." Cavarinus seemed to be telling the truth. "I called you here to tell you that I am leaving in two days. I am going to my hillfort...permanently. It seems your friend Marcus was right. There are whispers of a gathering of tribes in the north. I may join them." Ambiorix almost dropped his goblet. "Why would you risk losing what you have? You live very well here. And what about Brigid?" "I am well aware of the dangers, but I can't sit back and watch my people mistreated. As a noble I live very well, but others, like young Conare, are not so fortunate. The Romans keep taking more and more." "Why are you telling me this?" Cavarinus leaned forward. "I want you to come with me." He had never seen his normally jovial friend so serious. A strange feeling washed over him and he thought of the dream he kept having every night. "What is going on? Are the Caledonian tribes planning an uprising?" "I don't know for certain, but something is brewing among the northern tribes. I think it might be safer at my hillfort." His head still spinning from his friend's strange revelation, Ambiorix silently drank his wine for a moment, pondering his next question. "What would you do if you just found out that your whole life was a lie?" Though it was still daytime, the room was unnaturally dark due to the gloomy weather. By the glow of the candlelight, Ambiorix could see Cavarinus studying him, a gleam of something, maybe surprise, in his eyes. "I think I would be angry, but then I would wonder if knowing the truth would have made a difference anyway." He sat back studying Ambiorix. "Are you feeling well, my friend? You look tired." "I haven't been sleeping well. I have been having the same strange dream every night." "Oh?" Interest sparked in Cavarinus' eyes. "Dreams are very important to my people. Sometimes they tell the future." "That can't be because in this dream I am leading the Celtic people into battle." He expected Cavarinus to laugh.

Cavarinus didn't laugh. He had a very serious look on his face. Ambiorix felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. As a part of his education, he had studied philosophy. The Chaldean priests spoke of how destiny was written in the stars and the Celtic druids were eerily similar to the ancient Chaldean priests. The augurs, or diviners, of Rome claimed they could determine if a certain action was blessed or cursed by the gods, in the flight or cries of birds. Augurs often traveled with the legions to determine the fate of battles. He had never believed any of it and had resumed his preferred reading of battle strategies and practicing sword fighting. Now he wondered if there was some truth to their teachings. "You should listen to your dreams." Cavarinus stared at him, unblinking. "Will you come with me to my hillfort?" "You can't be serious. I can't leave now. I have responsibilities to my wife, to Rome." "I did not speak in jest, my friend. I fear there may be more raids. You and your wife would be much safer within the walls of my hillfort. I would welcome your company." "My Roman wife would never leave the comforts of the villa to live in a drafty hillfort! No, I must decline your most generous offer." "I see you are a man of honor, but you need to decide who to honor." There was a wary gleam in Cavarinus' eyes. "I have to stay here! And I refuse to run away like a coward!" Cavarinus bristled. "Are you calling me a coward?" Ambiorix shook his head. "No. I didn't mean to imply that you are a coward. I'm just...confused right now." He faced his friend. "Just between you and me, I know Rome is wrong and a part of me wants to take you up on your offer, but I can't...I am afraid of the shame it would cause my wife. So, either way I am a coward." "No. It makes you an honorable man. I really wish you would accept my offer, but I cannot force you. I will miss your company and I hope no harm will come to you and your family." Cavarinus stifled a yawn. The rain still pattered lightly on the roof. "Let's call it a night. Brigid will show you to your room and I will have her serve you and Conare some dinner. Unfortunately I will not be able to join you. " "Since when do you pass up a meal?" Ambiorix teased. "I have been feeling under the weather. I think I will retire early." Ambiorix was sure his friend was hiding something. --The next morning the rain had stopped, but a light gray curtain of mist fell and both he and Conare were coated with fine droplets. They rode in silence. Ambiorix was still thinking about the conversation with Cavarinus the day before. He was trying to figure out a way to bring a peaceful ending to all of the recent unrest and he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings until his senses brought him around. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke, which wasn't too unusual because everyone burned fires this time of year, but this smell was particularly strong mixed with an acrid scent. A strange feeling of danger washed over him and he stayed alert, wary of every sound. When the trees parted, it appeared something was smoldering in the distance, but it was hard to tell because of the low overcast skies. Ambiorix tried to mentally gauge how close they were to his home and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Conare! Hurry!" Ambiorix spurred his horse on. The horse's hooves pounded the wet earth sending up sprays of mud that pelted Ambiorix's back. Ignoring the cold wet air that slapped painfully at his face, he urged the horse to go faster through patches of woodland and over green pastures. The familiar clearing came into view and with it the sickening sight of his house smoldering, gutted and destroyed. His first thought was to call out for his wife, but the soldier in him bade him to be silent in case renegade Celtic tribes were responsible for the destruction and they were still nearby. Movement behind the smoldering house caught his eye and he halted his horse, motioning for Conare to do the same. The boy was unarmed and Ambiorix didn't wish to put him in danger.

"Stay here," he instructed the boy. Pulling his sword from the sheath at his side, he guided the horse through the trees, into the clearing and into the unknown. It was much too quiet. Even the birds were silent. The pounding inside his head roared along with the rapid beating of his heart. The remains of his ruined house still smoldered from the ravaging fire. A light rain began to fall and the still hot embers emitted a resounding hiss. Ambiorix cautiously dismounted, scanning the area for any sign of people. He wanted to call out for his wife, but hesitated, still not sure what had caused the fire. It was possible the bathhouse caught on fire, as they were notorious for starting fires, but something didn't feel right to him. He prayed to the gods that Valeria made it out of the house before it burned. Near the burnt out ruins, he found the bodies of two Roman soldiers; their headless bodies coated with white ash like the first dusting of winter snowfall. The evidence confirmed his fears of an attack and an icy hand gripped his heart, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Where is Valeria? The thought echoed wildly inside his head. He whirled around at the sudden sound of a snapping twig. His sword narrowly missed taking off Fiona's head. She didn't seem to notice that she almost lost her head, her eyes were wide with shock and she stumbled about as if drunk on spirits. "Fiona, what happened?" He held on to her arm to keep her from falling down. She shook her head, her long wet braid swinging from shoulder to shoulder, spraying droplets of water. "Ah...Ah...they blended into the forest like f-faery f- folk." He took her by the shoulders, shaking her. "Where is Valeria?" "Valeria?" Her eyes were wide, vacant. "Where is my wife?" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but couldn't help it. "Ambiorix!" Taran appeared from around what was left of the house. "How could this happen, Taran? Where are all the soldiers?" "It happened just before dawn. I was in the stables. Most of the soldiers were called away to a neighboring villa." He paused, catching his breath. "I heard screams coming from the house and then...flames. There was nothing I could do." Ambiorix felt his heart rise inside his chest, choking him. "Valeria?" "I...I'm sorry. She didn't make it out of the house." Taran shifted his gaze, looking down at the ground. The world seemed to spin and the vision of the burnt, blackened house loomed before him like a wide black maw. Behind him, Fiona started screaming. "The poor babe! The poor babe all burned up, too!" He lost all control. "Speak to me, woman! What babe? What are you talking about?" He shook her hard and slapped her cheek, the loud crack piercing the thick mist and rain. Her eyes cleared and she looked up at him. "Why, your babe, sir. Valeria, she was with child." He turned away, his legs buckling beneath him. Suddenly he was violently ill. Shaking, he turned his face upward, letting the rain cleanse his invisible wounds. They had killed his wife and unborn child, but it was the unborn child that reached out to him from the smoldering ashes. He imagined the tiny fingers grasping onto his large, callused hand. Cursing, he pounded the earth with his fist, the vision fading into a black abyss. And with it any hope of peace. Chapter Twelve Broken Pattern It was not a night for warm-blooded creatures. Howling winter winds shook the timbers, and frozen rain battered the thatch roof of the meetinghouse. The druids were gathered at one side, somber faces reflected in the firelight. Facing them were five dark-skinned warriors from the Epidii tribe. Ancient blue symbols adorned their faces and encircled their glistening bare arms. "You fools! No one was supposed to be harmed except for the Roman soldiers!" Cartagh's thunderous voice rose above the screaming wind. The warriors lowered their eyes, remaining silent. The Sacrificer was the most feared of the druids.

Nemu stepped forward, the large staff in her hand. Ignoring Cartagh, she addressed the warriors. "You." She pointed to the one who appeared to be in charge. "Tell us exactly what happened when you set fire to the house. I want to know every detail." His eyes were like the dark depths of the lochs, holding many secrets. He stepped forward, appearing fearless. "When we set fire to the house, the woman broke free and ran back inside. She kept yelling in a language I didn't understand. All I understood was a name that she kept saying over and over again...Mar...cus. She was laughing, screaming, her eyes crazy like a beansidhe. She ripped off her clothes and..." "And what?" "Her belly was swelled with child." A loud crack resounded outside. "And you couldn't rescue her from the flames?" Cartagh bellowed from behind Nemu. "We tried. The woman, she fought us, biting and scratching..." He turned his head, revealing four long deep dark scratches on his neck. "You are warriors and you let a pregnant woman escape!" Cartagh's thunderous accusation drowned out the raging storm. Nemu had enough of Cartagh and his outbursts. She struck the earthen floor with her staff. "Enough!" She turned to the warriors. "Leave us now." "The pattern is broken," Cartagh muttered. "We must prepare a sacrifice to restore it," Roric added. "How could this have happened? He must come of his own will and if he discovers who set fire to his house..." Nemu paused, deep in thought. She knew all about broken patterns. It was the druids who kept the peace with the spirit world, making sure the pattern was not broken. Through sacrifices, both animal and human, and chanting in the sacred groves, they were able to keep the peace. The druids counseled the kings and kept the old ways alive. They had power. The Romans tried to destroy them because of the power they had over the kings. "How will we fight the Romans without someone to lead us?" Mohdra spoke up. Usually quiet, the healer spent most of his time alone gathering herbs in the surrounding forest. "We don't fight. If it becomes necessary, we will retreat to the hills and the underground caves." Nemu had survived the Romans so far by doing just that. There were plenty of deep forests and caves in which to hide. It would only be temporary until their leader was in place. "Hide? Like cowards?" Cartagh spoke, his lined face set in a scowl. "Have you not learned anything from your past experience with the Romans? They will slaughter us! We must fight them in a different way now. We must move amongst the shadows, unseen, unheard, until the time comes...and then we will roar!" The last words she emphasized, raising her voice. The wind rose, too, wailing like restless unborn souls trapped in the Otherworld. A strong gust blew down the smoke hole, snuffing out the fire and then all was quiet. This storm was almost over, but far off in the distance, another one brewed, waiting to unleash its fury. --She still preferred the night to day, reveling in the silver glow of the moon. The night was so much more peaceful than the day with only the sound of an occasional night creature rustling in the bushes. While everyone slept, Nemu stood staring at the dark loch. The dark, mysterious waters called to her. She inhaled fresh air, free of the stifling smoke she breathed in the shelter. Fast moving clouds raced across the moon, shadows dancing on the choppy surface of the water as if hopping from wave to wave. She undressed, ignoring the icy wind that pricked at her skin. All she wanted was the sensation of water, weightless and comforting to her mind and body. The sound of soft footsteps approached from behind her. Knowing who stood there, she turned around.

"Why didn't you wake me up? You shouldn't be out here alone." Rhonwyn stood tall, a sword hanging at her side. The wind blew her hair around like long dancing flames. Nemu couldn't see her face clearly, but knew she was frowning. She was Nemu's personal guard now. It was an honor to guard a high druid and she took her assignment very seriously. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful." "You know I can't sleep without you by my side, Nemu. I woke as soon as you were gone." She stepped into the moonlight, her eyes filled with desire at the sight of Nemu's naked flesh. "You're welcome to join me." Nemu turned and walked into the water. "I think I will stay here. I don't know how you can swim in that freezing water!" Rhonwyn sat on a smooth rock and gathered her wool cloak around her shoulders, the vivid colors of purple, black and red dazzling even in moonlight. "You don't know what you are missing!" Nemu splashed around in the water. "Oh, I think I do, thank you. I'd rather not die of the winter cough from exposure to cold." Nemu giggled. "Humans don't know how to have any fun." "My idea of fun isn't freezing to death and this dark loch makes me uneasy. You are the only one that swims here. Wouldn't you rather swim in the wide firth like everyone else?" Nemu emerged from the water, shaking her head. "No." She felt at home here in the dark, moody loch, not in the cheerful blue waters of the firth. Her white skin gleamed like starlight and she playfully shook silver droplets of water onto Rhonwyn. Nemu darted back, but Rhonwyn reached out and caught her by the arm, holding her tight. Nemu let herself fall into Rhonwyn's embrace, her naked, cool body instantly warmed by the heat from Rhonwyn's body. Full, soft lips touched her own, gentle like soft rose petals. A fire burned inside her and she responded by rubbing her lower body against Rhonwyn's thigh. Rhonwyn responded by moving her hand down Nemu's belly and caressing the throbbing mound just like she had many times before. Nemu moaned, moving her hips back and forth. Rhonwyn's fingers felt like little flicks of a tongue, darting back and forth across her sensitive skin. Nemu tried to stifle her moans against Rhonwyn's cloak, her hips moving now of their own will, urgent, the passion building. She arched her back, crying out, her breath exhaling as puffy white clouds in the chill air, her lower body trembling. Rhonwyn held her to keep her from falling. "Nemu, I've wanted you since I saw you singing that day." She pressed her face into Nemu's damp hair, tenderly kissing her neck. Nemu didn't speak. She backed away, reaching for her robe. "I give you everything, yet I can feel the distance between us. You still think of him, don't you? Even after he hurt you." There was a hint of bitterness in Rhonwyn's voice. Nemu sighed, running her fingers through her damp hair. "I...I don't know." She pulled the robe over her head. "He turned you away. I have always been there for you." Nemu walked over and held Rhonwyn's hand. "I know and I am very grateful for your company. I do care for you. You please me very much, but..." "You still think of him." "Rhonwyn..." There was a moment of strained silence. Nemu saw tears shining in Rhonwyn's eyes. "I need you. Please don't do this." "But you don't love me." Nemu looked away, not knowing what to say without hurting Rhonwyn. She had tried to forget him, but she still thought of him...often. Rhonwyn pulled Nemu into her arms. "I guess I will just have to accept that you will never feel for me what I feel for you," she whispered into Nemu's ear. "I'll have you any way I can." A strong gust of wind blew over them. Nemu looked around Rhonwyn's shoulder and watched the dark water ripple under the power of the wind. "You could have any man you choose, Rhonwyn. I have seen the way they look at you."

Rhonwyn shrugged, her cloak sliding down her shoulders. "I intimidate most men. I think I am too much for them to handle." "I can't imagine why you would intimidate anyone," she said, a teasing note in her voice. She adjusted Rhonwyn's cloak, pulling it back over her shoulders. Her fingers traced the raven brooch that held the cloak together. Ravens and crows were linked with darkness and death, especially death in battle. War goddesses often took the shape of these