Adam of Albion by Kim McMahon & Neil McMahon

Author:Kim McMahon & Neil McMahon [McMahon, Kim & McMahon, Neil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B008BOJXTQ
Publisher: Quinotaur Press
Published: 2012-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Adam was buried deep in a dream that had him covered in cold sweat. He could see a girl—not her face, but her small, slight figure and long pale hair. She was dressed all in black, and she seemed to be in an abyss or cave that was even blacker—to be trapped there with no escape, not able to go back but afraid to go forward. It even seemed that he could hear her voice in his mind: Adam, help me, please—I’m so lost and alone! You’re the problem solver—what should I do?

Stay calm, he told her. Think it through. Get every bit of information you can, study it until it starts to make sense, then take one careful step at a time. Most of all, don’t give up.

He could tell that she didn’t hear him—she was falling into a panic, flailing her arms like she was beating against a wall or throwing things. He tried shouting, tried to run toward her, but his voice wouldn’t work and he couldn’t move.

Then he realized: Take your own advice, idiot. He stopped struggling and concentrated with everything he had, focusing his words like a laser beam to her mind.

Her frantic movements slowed. She lifted her head like she was listening, started to turn her face in his direction—

But now another voice was babbling in his ear, and a hand was shaking him. Like a deep sea diver, he left the dream on the bottom and swam up toward the surface of consciousness. The dream was gone, leaving only a blurred memory. It was time to get up and feed the cattle, he thought drowsily.

But this wasn’t his familiar old bunk at the ranch—it was much softer and he was wrapped in luxurious covers, which he’d managed to wind around himself so thoroughly he was practically hogtied. Plus the voice wasn’t his father’s. As he forced open his sleepy eyes, he saw that the person shaking him was a dark-haired boy about his own age.

Then he remembered where he was—and what was happening. That woke him up the rest of way, fast. He thrashed free of the bedding, and Mustafa let him go.

“Hurry, Adam—we mustn’t keep the Sultan waiting,” Mustafa said anxiously. Adam’s feet were already moving when they hit the floor.

In one way, getting up here was like at the ranch—the starry night sky was just starting to lighten, although he was looking at it through the arched stone windows of Saladin’s palace. It was also surprisingly chilly—not like a real winter morning in Montana, but it definitely could have been October. No wonder he’d burrowed under the covers so hard.

His excitement was bursting at the seams—but he shared Mustafa’s anxiety, too. This was a very important day—the most important of his young life. He had a mission to carry out for the great Saladin, and everything depended on how well he did it.

He followed Mustafa through the quick morning routine—a cold water wash in a stone basin that finished waking him

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