Could it possibly be?
“The… the Cal?” he repeated, dazed and suspicious.
The man nodded. “You have been seeking us and now we have come. If you do not speak with us now, we will not return. This is your only chance.”
Cam wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to blow what might be the exact opportunity he’d been looking for, but in a place like this, all men were liars. He’d discovered that the hard way. Before he could make the decision himself, the man grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him over to a table and shoved him into a small alcove. Two men sat there, apitcher of ale between them. As Cam came close, the pair looked up from their drinks.
“You use your mind when you fight,” the first man said in a heavy Teutonic accent. “You do not waste effort; you strike for maximum effect.”
Cam wasn’t sure how to respond, still feeling wary. “What do ye want with me?”
“It is what you want withus. You have been seeking The Cal.”
“Do ye mean the Ludus Caledonia?”
The man with the accent sat forward so that his face came into the light. He was older, his tanned skin like leather, but his brilliant blue eyes told a story.
“Who told you to come here and ask for The Cal?” he said, answering Cam’s question with one of his own.
Cam didn’t see any harm in responding; at that point, he was still closer to the door and could bolt if necessary. “Drostan Lindsay,” he said. “He is the chief of Clan Lindsay of Kirkburn Castle and I live on his lands. Drostan has been tae The Cal and he said it is where a man can learn tae fight. I want tae fight.”
“Why?”
“Because I have men tae kill,” Cam said simply. “Clan Keith destroyed my village. My grandfather was killed. I am a smithy by trade, not a warrior, but that doesna matter. I will learn tae fight and I will have my vengeance.”
It was a simple but honest answer. The man with the brilliant blue eyes stared at Cam for a moment longer before sitting back in his chair.
“I suppose that is as good a reason as any,” he said. “As I said before, you fight with your brains because you brought Luther to his knees, which takes a clever man. You took on a bigger, stronger man and you won with your wits more than your strength.”
Cam had no idea what he meant. “Who is Luther?”
“Me,” the big, bald man he’d battled with came up behind him, rubbing his eyes. “I am Luther. You showed courage, little man. Not many stand against me and win.”
Cam lifted his eyebrows at him. He wasn’t a little man by any means, but compared to Luther, he supposed that he was. It began to occur to him that the fight just a few minutes ago wasn’t random. He’d barely stepped on the man’s foot and the speed with which Luther threw a fist at him. He remembered thinking that it had all happened with very little provocation. Now he knew why.
He’d been set up.
“Mayhap I am a little man,” he said. “But this little man sent ye tae the ground.”
Luther grinned. “Very true.”
“So ye’ll not call me a little man again.”
“Nay, I will not. You fought like a lion.”
Cam studied him a moment before looking to the men in the shadows. “Ye planned the fight,” he said. “But why did ye do it?”
The man with the accent spoke. “We had to see if you were worthy,” he said. “A man must be weighed and measured, for we do not take just anyone. Therefore, answer one question, Cam Netherton—do you wish to find your destiny?”
Cam nodded even as he mulled over the words. “Find it,” he said. “And change it.”
“And you are willing to do whatever it takes?”
“I am.”
With that, Luther grasped Cam by the arm and ushered him to the door of the tavern, dragging him out into the cold night beyond.
Little did Cam know that the destiny the man had spoke of had only just begun.
