Disclaimers: as before. I don't own Relic Hunter, but please do not reproduce any of this story without my permission.

Thank you so much to everybody who has reviewed. It means a lot to me.

Warning: Very angsty, dark themes.

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CHAPTER THREE

'Nigel – I've got it!'

Sydney dashed into the bedchamber, her smile as bright as the morning sunshine that flooded in through its open windows.

'Got what, Syd?' chirped Claudia, jumping up from where she sat on the edge of the bed. In doing so, she sent flying a selection of game tiles that Nigel had carefully arranged on the coverlet in front of him.

He puffed irritatedly. 'Now look what you've done! I was about to win!'

'Yes, of course you were - you win every time, slaveboy! It's a silly game anyway. I can't tell all the symbols apart…'

'But there are only two: 0's and X's! And I'm not a slave! I find that a rather offensive term.'

'Whatever you say,' pouted Claudia. 'They're stupid symbols and it's a boring game!'

'Uh, hello?' interrupted Sydney. 'Is anybody interested in anything I've found? And Claudia - it isn't kind to call Nigel a slaveboy!'

'But I've never heard of his kingdom! I'm sure he's made it up…'

'I have not!'

'Claudia, there's a lot about this world you haven't heard of…'

'Yes!' humphed Nigel. 'It seems that knowledge, like games and manners, isn't Claudia's strength.'

'She has many strengths - but maybe knowledge of distant lands isn't one of them,' soothed Sydney in a conciliatory tone, wondering at how quickly these two had come to squabble like siblings. 'Claudia - apologise to Nigel for calling him a slaveboy and Nigel, try to be patient with her.'

Claudia folded her arms and glared at both of them for a moment, before her anger quelled a little. 'Sorry, Nigel,' she muttered with a sigh: 'I'm sure you're a prince of a beautiful kingdom - somewhere! And I do believe you when you say that your aunt is a high priestess, your uncle is the king, and your stepbrother will be king someday too. Really I do.'

Nigel, not really wishing to offend either of his hostesses, offered lopsided smile in return: 'I'm sorry too. I'm sure you have a vast knowledge of many things, and I suppose I was a little grumpy. I'm just bored of being in this stupid bed.'

'Well, we're going to have to get you out of it quickly, then!' Sydney grinned, sweeping away the last of the bad atmosphere by unravelling a large, tattered brown scroll in her hand and flattening it out on the bedclothes. She pointed to a distinctive formulation of little hills and a winding river. 'After two days pouring over every description and map of the known world, I think I've found what we're looking for. The landscape matches the description in Nigel's prophecy exactly. The best news is that it is part of the Artemian wilderness beyond Neapolis. If we set sail for the mainland tomorrow, we can be there in two or three days. It's a hard, and possibly dangerous journey, but not a long one.'

'But it's impossible to leave now!' countered Nigel. 'It's nearly three days since Kafka departed, and we'll never make it back within his seven tides. Surely you can't leave the island at his mercy?'

'I don't intend to,' said Sydney plainly. 'I know that man. I think that his little promise to me will be overruled by the prospect of treasure - but he would not be able to interpret what and where the treasure is from the scroll alone. In fact, he will have to go to another Sybil and ask for advice - something that will pain him greatly. He hates the cult of the prophetess and has striven to destroy it where possible, one of the many reasons I'm so wary of his offers of 'protection'.

'So how long do you think we have?'

'He will have to travel to Etruria to meet the oracle at Tiburtine. Sadly, she is now old and weak, and I'm sure she will help him with little persuasion, but the journey there is at least three days from Neapolis. I think we have a week to get the relic, get back, and be ready to defend the island.'

Nigel and Claudia shared a wary look, united in their misgivings: 'It's still cutting things a bit fine,' said Nigel. 'And how do we know we can just march up to this tree of life and snap a branch off. It may be defended - by an army, a dragon or anything!'

'What's a dragon?' asked Claudia.

'A massive winged beast that breaths fire and eats people,' replied Nigel with a shudder. 'I've never seen one but… um... I've heard tales and I'm sure they're true. The bad ones usually are!'

'Ew,' winced Claudia. 'What if there's a dragon, Syd?'

Sydney shrugged: 'I'll consult the books of Sibylline prophecy to see if they say anything about it. There is bound to be traps or something, but I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle.'

'You do this sort of thing often?' enquired Nigel.

'She does,' grinned Claudia proudly. 'That's why Sydney is the best Sybil of all! Whenever she needs an offering, or a sacred relic to make sense of a prophecy, she just goes and finds it herself! And if she hears that an important relic is under threat, she retrieves it and brings it here for the protection of Gaia.'

'You do this alone? Without protection or aid?'

Claudia giggled: 'You'll see! Sydney doesn't need help. She could probably take out a whole army.'

'Thanks Claudia,' interrupted Sydney, 'but I think you overestimate my powers just a little. I can take care of myself but I've had a few close escapes, I promise you that. And this is going to be one of my most dangerous journeys, Nigel. I have to be sure that you're ready.'

'I can't say I'm relishing taking on a whole army,' admitted Nigel.' But I can't wait to get out of this bed. Do we start today?'

'No, tomorrow,' replied Sydney, who was secretly amazed that Nigel had made such a swift recovery. All the other slaves who had been brought in with the fever were still desperately ill, and two had died. Reminding herself of this, she added: 'I think you need another good night's rest and, uh, a bath!'

Nigel screwed up his nose indignantly: 'Are you suggesting that I smell?'

'Not at all,' laughed Sydney. 'I've sponged you down enough times to be sure you're quite clean. But the bath would have healing qualities that I think you would benefit from, and I have a wonderful plunge pool in the adjoining chamber. Claudia, can you go and ask one of the servants to fill it, bring some salts and lotions, and then…'

She motioned with her eyebrows that Claudia should make herself scarce. Claudia pursed her lips stroppily, but understood well enough. Sydney wanted to be alone with Nigel - again. And this time she was going to get naked with him…

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'I'm quite well enough to bath myself,' insisted Nigel, as he rose from the bed, dodging out of the way of Sydney's steadying hand. Feeling a little giddy, he supported himself with a hand on the bedpost until the room stopped spinning, and then started, as swiftly as he could, in the direction of the bathhouse: 'So if you'll just give me a few minutes…'

'There's absolutely no way I'm going to let you bath yourself,' said Sydney plainly and grabbed hold of Nigel's arm, regardless of whether he liked it or not. 'You've been very ill. You could slip and drown, or anything. And it's not like I haven't seen you naked already!'

Nigel blushed a deep shade of pink, the most colour she'd seen on his cheeks - apart from the bruise - since he'd thrown himself on her 'protection': 'Well, its not like I had much choice then,' he mumbled, 'but now that I'm actually conscious, I'm not sure I could bear it.'

Sydney was a little bewildered: 'But why? You have a beautiful body, and it's not like I won't be naked too.'

'You'll be naked too?' stuttered Nigel. 'Oh, please, no. It just wouldn't be right!'

'Why in Gaia's name not? Do you bathe with clothes on in your kingdom?'

Nigel, suddenly feeling even more drained of energy, flopped down into a wicker chair: 'No, of course we don't. But for a man and woman – an, uh, unattached man and woman - to bathe together naked would be, well, frowned upon. And I wouldn't feel… comfortable.'

'Oh Nigel!' Sydney hauled him out of the seat and bundled him in the direction of the bath before he had time to protest. 'In this case, you mustn't think of me as a woman. I'm your nurse and, of course, the Sybil. The love of a man is forbidden to me by my position, so I'm sure I can resist the temptations of your flesh, lovely although it is.'

'Good for you,' moaned Nigel. 'But, as you said yourself, you are a woman of flesh and blood as well! You can hardly expect me to not, um, notice…'

'Notice all you like. I don't mind.' She started fiddling with the shoulder clasps on his brief, white chiton. 'Once we've got to know each other a little better, you'll get used to…'

Sydney trailed off as Nigel pulled himself out of her grip and turned to face her, decidedly grumpy. 'Look, I may have come asking for your protection, but I'm not your slave and I don't have to do this! In fact, in fact… I won't!'

Sydney was a little surprised by the strength of his resistance: 'Uh, sorry that I pressured you. No, I won't force you to do anything. But I really think a bath would help - I've poured in all sorts of healing herbs.'

Nigel sighed heavily: 'I'm sorry. Maybe we just do things differently where I come from… but I don't like, err, exposing myself in such a way…particularly after…' He trailed off and then added: 'I suppose that in this warmer climate it's rather more natural to, uh, wear less.'

'Clothes are optional here, that's for sure,' laughed Sydney. 'Look, how about I go away, just for a moment, and you climb into the bath. The liquid is as thick as milk - once you're in, you'll be quite concealed. And then I'll join you after that.'

Nigel didn't quite manage a smile but said: 'All right. Promise me you won't peek, though?'

'Of course not!' said Sydney, with mock offence. 'The Sybil never peeks!'

'No, but you do tease mercilessly,' muttered Nigel as Sydney swished from the room. She heard, but a slight stub of guilt smothered her jokey response.

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The bathroom was as luxurious as the bedroom, hewn in a pure, white marble.

The pool itself, indeed, was so wide that Nigel imagined he could lie flat across its petal-strewn surface and still not touch the other side with his toes. It was overlooked by life-size statues of Gaia herself and her fellow deities who posed proudly in ornate wall-niches. Nigel perched himself on a narrow, submerged shelf that stretch right around the edges of the bath and tried to avoid the eerie gazes of their pupil-less eyes.

'Err, I'm ready!'

'Great!' Sydney was back through the door in a flash, one of her bejewelled shoulder clasps already unfastened and her chiton slipping decorously off one shoulder.

Nigel shielded his eyes with his hand as her clothing tumbled to the floor and she slid into the water with a swift, fluid movement.

'Did you peek?' asked Sydney airily.

'No,' lied Nigel, but he felt surprisingly little embarrassment for having spied at her statuesque form, and the swathes of sleek, sun-kissed flesh. She'd not even twitched an eyelash as she exposed herself completely, although surely she suspected he could not deny himself a glimpse?

'Mmm, this feels fantastic, doesn't it?' purred Sydney as the deliciously warm water lapped against her. She stretched her arms out to her sides so the firm upper curves of her cleavage lifted above the surface of the water. Nigel lowered his eyes - he couldn't be that blatant! He felt his cheeks glow hotter than ever.

'I feel better already,' she continued, in a leisurely tone. 'How about you?'

'It feels nice,' said Nigel, deliberately understated. The thick, frothy liquid felt wonderful as it swaddled his sore skin, easing his numerous aches and pains, although not diluting them completely. But he still felt very uncomfortable, and he returned her wide-lipped, relaxed grin with an awkward half-smile. He thought urgently: 'why did you get in here naked with me? And what do you intend to do?'

The answer was given only too quickly as Sydney picked up from the edge of the pool an earthenware pot, full of some pale cream, and a large sponge and began sploshing over towards him.

Nigel pressed himself back against the side, regardless of his injuries, and began to sidle away from her: 'I, uh, am quite capable of washing myself!'

'Nigel, don't be silly. You can't wash your back, and I want to check how well it is healing. You let me put lotion on it before – and this is just a nice sort of soothing soap made of dill and olive oil.'

'Yes, but I wasn't completely naked then. More to the point, you weren't naked!'

Resistance, however, was futile. Sydney was already right next to him, her fingers on his shoulders, effortlessly turning him in the water so she was positioned in front of her, facing away. Then she raised them both so they stood, covered only to their waists in the water. Nigel didn't protest. Her touch felt wonderful, as it always did, and he vacantly wondered if she had bewitched him. Surrender was suddenly the only option.

Long, agile fingers began smoothing cool cream over the long welts on his back and shoulders. Nigel let out a long and heartfelt groan that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep in his chest; the cream fizzed and stung but his pain intermingled with a far more agonising pleasure. How could he not be acutely aware that she was completely uncovered? He could not see her, but he could feel her; he could sense her body heat, the rippling of air and water as she moved. How desperately he wanted to turn and embrace her, touch her as easily as she was touching him, but how surely he knew he couldn't. It was torture.

'Am I hurting you?'

Nigel swallowed a bitter laugh. 'A little. But it feels good, too.'

'I'm glad it feels good.' Sydney's voice was husky and low; he could feel the balminess of her breath as she eased a little closer. Her hands were now rubbing his lower back - where the skin was less damaged - in larger, sweeping motions. As her palms kneaded his lower hips, the tips of her fingers reached around and skimmed the sensitive skin of his abdomen.

Nigel let out a little cry and jolted himself away.

'Oh, sorry!' Sydney sounded surprised. 'Did it hurt too much?

He stared ahead at the wall breathlessly. Surely she knew the effect she must have on him, that her actions and proximity ignited a swathe of sensual pleasure that no man could suppress? Still, he dared not accuse her any more than he dared to turn and face her in her sumptious, unclad state.

'No… it just felt…uncomfortable. I think I'd like to get out now.'

'So soon? I think it would be beneficial for you to have a good, long soak…'

'Please, Sydney, I'd really like to get out now. Will you go?'

'If that's what you want.' He heard her plunge away across the pool, and then the wet slap of her feet as she ascended the steps.

'I'm decent,' she called after a moment. She lightly tripped around to his side of the pool and laid a folded white cloth on the edge in front of him.

'Here's something soft to dry yourself with. I'll give you a moment to sort yourself out.'

Nigel silently cursed himself. Maybe he'd misread the signs? He'd always been uncomfortable around women - besides, why would she ever be interested in him, when the temple was surrounded by brawny guards, many of who possessed very handsome faces, and with whom he'd heard Claudia flirt shamelessly whenever Sydney popped away. He managed a begrudging smile as he observed her shapely calves and ankles and delicate, painted feet, padding away across the room then vanish out of sight.

'I'm such a worthless fool,' he muttered, and pulled himself from the bath. It was then - as he felt the cool air against his nakedness and the blank eyes of the statues upon him - that the bad memories began to engulf him.

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When Sydney returned, Nigel was dressed in his chiton, but still dripping wet, sitting dejectedly in a large, wicker chair. He looked up vaguely as she entered then dipped his eyes quickly.

She hurried across the room towards him. 'You're soaking!' she scolded mildly, picking up the discarded towel from the flooring and draping it around his shoulders. 'I will have to get you some dry clothes.'

Nigel said nothing and looked so mournful that her first instinct was to hug him. Yet something told her that she shouldn't comfort him physically. She crouched down at his knees, peering up anxiously into his face.

'Please tell me what troubles you.'

'I can't,' replied Nigel dully. 'It's too awful.'

'Talking about it will help them,' insisted Sydney. 'Is it Kafka? What did he do to you?'

'I said I didn't want to tell you!' Nigel's words were forceful, although he didn't raise his voice. He's sounded more distraught than cross.

'I'm a priestess,' urged Sydney kindly. 'I'm here to listen to people, to help them. It's one of my roles, maybe the most important one.'

Before she really registered what she was doing, she touched him lightly on his knee. Nigel inhaled sharply; suddenly he wanted to tell her, as if she was sucking a confession from him. 'She is a witch,' he thought ruefully.

She was about to reassure him that she wouldn't mind either way, when Nigel began to talk, his words pouring out in a fast, but broken, stream.

'He took everything, my money, my belongings, my clothes… I was nearly naked, and his men just kept laughing, and touching me, hitting me, making fun of how…pretty I was…' He covered his eyes and moaned, hardly believing he was telling her. 'They'd been drinking, and I was so afraid…I didn't know what they were going to do, but I knew it would be terrible… I shudder to think what would have happened if Kafka hadn't read the scroll…'

By this time, it was Sydney who had tensed. She had known deep down what an ordeal Nigel must have been through, but she hadn't let herself think about it - she never dwelt on the bad stuff. It was one of her strengths - but now she realised it could also be a weakness. A wave of guilt washed over her as he continued.

'When… when he read the scroll, the hexameter, he grabbed me by the hair, put that evil hook to my throat, and demanded that I told him about it… I said I was just the messenger and that I couldn't even read what it said… so he chained me up and whipped me until I told him…but I lied. I said I was supposed to be taking it to the Oracle at Delphi… and I'd become very lost. I'm not sure he believed me, but at least he stopped the punishment. Then he threw me in the hold of the ship with all the other slaves…and we set sail. It was dark and it stank down there, there was no room to move. The fever was rife and I just knew I was sinking with it … but when I overheard where we were going, I realized I had to find a way to escape, a way to talk to you… even if I died trying.'

By now, Sydney had risen to her feet: she almost wished he would stop talking. His words lashed into her, made her feel so angry - with Kafka, but also with herself. Nigel's good looks had led her to treat him as a plaything, just as that beast had - she was little better than Kafka to have tried to ignore that obvious fact he had suffered emotionally as well as physically.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'Truly sorry. I should have imagined…'

'NO! Don't be sorry!' Nigel stood up and, to her surprise, threw his arms around her neck. 'If it hadn't been for you, I would probably be dead… or worse…'

She didn't think he was crying, but she could feel him breathing hard and fast. She stroked the damp hair at the back of his head.

'The worst part,' he murmured, 'was when that brute gave me my tunic back. I thanked him - I nearly wept with gratitude - and he just laughed. It was the most humiliating moment of my life!'

'Oh Nigel,' was all she could manage as she held him tight. He buried his face in her shoulder as she lightly caressed the nape of his neck.

'No more teasing,' she told herself. 'From now on, I am the Sybil and he is a man under my protection - including protection from myself. A friend, but no more than that. There must never be anything more!'

On the other side of the curtain, a pair of wide, blue eyes saw all, although the petite, bejeweled ears beneath the pretty, blonde curls heard nothing.

'Look but don't touch, huh?' seethed Claudia. 'She can't keep her hands off him – or he off her! Why shouldn't I have my goatherd…?'

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The Sybil of Camae yawned widely, and passed her fingers over tired eyes as she turned the three hundredth page of the sixteenth book of prophecy. Nigel and Claudia had gone to sleep hours ago, yet she sat up late, by the light of a tiny oil lamp, in the hope she could find clues about the challenges that faced them in the days ahead. She cursed for the umpteenth time that Claudia hadn't spent time better organising the lengthy pages of elaborate verse as she'd once suggested – but she knew it was here somewhere!

It was then she saw the correct passage and, as she read it, she found herself fighting a wave of apprehension. As she remembered, it told that the messenger of the Winter Goddess had an important role to play in the unfolding of the prophecy. But the exact nature of that role filled her with dread: it told that he was the only one who could fetch the offering - the offering that she now knew was a branch from the Tree of Life itself. Moreover, according to the ancient writings, the messenger of the Winter Goddess was chosen by the gods, blessed in a special, unspecified way, and that he - he alone - could decide what should be done with the powerful relic. It was on his decision that the fate of the known world rested.

Sydney slammed shut the book, and stared into space, her eyes unseeing as her mind raced. What should she do? If she told Nigel, she had a feeling he would just panicked. He'd had enough to deal with lately.

She took a deep breath and made an executive decision: she would never lie to him, she just wouldn't tell him...not until he was ready to know. Then she'd break it to him gently. That, she was sure, would be best.

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Thanks for reading. Please review. Less angst and more adventure in the next chapters, promise!