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

Chapter 3

The Nemaru camp sat in a valley, practically invisible even from the top of the ridges flanking the trench-like canyon. Forest stretched for miles around, a sea of shimmering green. It lit up under the late afternoon sun like emerald fabric stretched across the countryside, blanketing the hills with a cloak of exquisite beauty. Speckled with orange, red, and yellow, it evidenced the late season.

At least five thousand crude wooden buildings had been erected in a secluded field, giving shelter to thrice that many soldiers. As the capital's secondary defense, the camp was placed perhaps fifty miles north of Etniria itself, between Agnir's stronghold in the central northwest and the city. There were smaller settlements scattered about the East Woods to some extent, but even the most daring of men never strayed too far from the safety of the capital.

Refugees were given shelter in camouflaged tents set up in the unoccupied half of the field. Hundreds of them peppered the grass, the pattern interrupted occasionally by campfires and carts. Villagers wandered among the structures, some bandaged or limping.

By the time Lillian finally caught sight of the camp through the trees, her worry over Sam had just about reached its limit. His condition had declined during the night, the poison in his system slowly but surely doing its work. Lillian was surprised he was still on his feet. His face was beaded with sweat, even in the brisk autumn air, and his skin was pale and clammy. But being the stubborn jackass he was, he refused any help she or Chad offered.

She was furious with him. The part of her that still managed to think rationally told her that she was truly angry about Philip, but being the stubborn jackass she was, she ignored that rational part of herself. Her heart felt numb, as if it was frozen. She would've given anything to feel something over Philip's death, but her emotions seemed to have been locked away in a box deep inside her. Philip was her brother and best friend. So why didn't she feel anything but a muffled trickle of grief? It irked her, almost more than Sam's depressing situation.

"We're here," Sam panted, leaning on his sword for support. He'd drawn it ages ago on the trail, using it like a crutch to steady himself. Lillian wasn't sure why he hadn't just selected a sturdy branch from the surrounding forest. Maybe his mind was muddled by the poison, too.

"I noticed," she said. They were approaching the underbrush of the treeline now, and she could see the soldiers in the camp beyond. Intent on getting Sam to the physician as soon as possible, she picked up her pace. "And you're going to get that bite checked out, whether you like it or not." When she didn't receive the expected grumbling in reply, she looked over her shoulder. "Sam!"

He was staggering, even with the help of the sword. His eyelids were half shut, and before he could take another step, his knees gave out. His body wilted on the ground in a heap, unconscious.

"No. No, no, no. Sam, you idiot," Lillian said, kneeling next to him. She took his face in her hands, examining him. His skin was hot and feverish, slick with sweat. His complexion had gone from sun-kissed tan to a sickly grey overnight, and his body felt frail and weak, nothing like the lithe, strong young man he was.

"What do we do?" Chad questioned.

Lillian glanced up at him. "Go find Nyle. He's tall, with fair hair and dark eyes. You can't miss him. Tell him I need help," she said. When Chad hesitated, she glared up at him. "Go!"

Barely a minute passed before Chad returned with Nyle, but it felt like hours. Sam's breathing had grown ragged, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

True to Lillian's description, Nyle was tall and lanky, towering several inches above her head. He was about her age, maybe a year or so older, with a face that was ruggedly handsome. He had a strong jawline, sharp features that all too often held a grin, and eyes that seemed to see right through you if he stared hard enough. Lillian had never been sure what color his eyes truly were, black or brown, but they were beautiful whatever shade. His shaggy blond hair nearly reached his ears, but it suited him that way.