by Kat Bastion
The wall made a low crackling noise. Its surface pulsed energy out into the room, throwing it into and through me like the bass vibration at a rock concert. The euphoric sensation bordered on erotic. I stared at Iain in amazement. Focused, Iain seemed oblivious to my reaction. He removed his hand, reducing the charge on a scale of one to ten from a twelve down to about a five.
The blast had permeated me on an atomic level. Residual energy continued to snap through my veins long after he broke contact with an entity that was in no way merely just a wall or a map.
Iain had juiced me up. In preparation for utilizing the wall’s smaller cousin, he’d given me a measured dose of the power it wielded. The heady aftereffect left me reeling . . . and craving more. I’d become the drug user, Iain the pusher.
Funny, when we went over our plan, he left out the details about the whole plug-in power source. He’d only said he thought he had a way to create enough power for me to go back with a one-sided connection. He hadn’t disclosed that he’d planned to make me the transformer.
The hopped-up residuals made me feel slightly aggressive about his secret keeping again. C’mere, little girl. Have a taste of this powerful drug, but I control the supply. However, in no position to complain about Iain’s rightful property, I kept my criticism under wraps.
Iain obviously knew how to use the wall’s power. My ire about all that Iain knew, but leaked in bits and pieces, skipped like a stone across the calm surface of my mental pond before it sank. Unsure about what rights I had to demand explanations, yet simultaneously knowing I’d become entitled to insist upon them, I managed to curtail a lash out, staying focused on the prize.
“We are so going to talk about that wall when I return.” Aaand . . . I failed to harness it all.
He chuckled, kissing my nose and turned me about by my shoulders, nudging me forward. “We shall see, lass. We shall see.”
We entered the outer room in stark silence. Nervousness rose from the pit my stomach, into my chest, and out my trembling fingertips as we stood in the small space with the magick box sitting in faux innocence between us. Flames danced atop the rushlights in their iron frames from an errant gust of air through the wide-open door I’d insisted upon. I wondered whether the box vibrated or if my trembling body had altered my perception. Probably both.
Iain’s expression held distinct pride. He no longer harbored any doubts. The man owned me in every way possible in our scenario, and what he had of me had become enough for him. His brave allowance of my continuing journey bore testament of how far he’d come in such a short period. I loved the courageous man with all my heart.
The time had come to save a man very much in need of it also. Plus, solve the mysteries of time travel, find out why I’d been marked as unique by being chosen, and ensure time itself hadn’t rippled due to my cavorting through it.
Piece. Of. Cake.
First we needed to ascertain if my ego had overstepped the bounds of my abilities, or if I actually possessed the power to jump through time on my command versus some otherworldly alignment of circumstance.
Iain pulled me into his arms, crushing his mouth to my lips in a soul-searing kiss. So intense were the emotions he conveyed, I hesitated momentarily with my resolution.
But Iain had never wavered in anything in his life. Built no other way but to decide and proceed, he boldly carried out his actions free of doubt. We’d both agreed when formulating our plan that we’d live our lives without regret.
He grasped my hands between his and raised them to his mouth, gently kissing my fingertips. “I love you, Isa. I need you to hear the words I feel so strongly. I. Love. You.”
My chest ached as I fell even harder for the invincible, yet very human man. Heartfelt words spilled from my lips before the choke at the base of my throat locked it up. “Iain, I love you. More than words could ever express . . . I. Love. You.”
Iain grinned wide until the corners of his mouth fell the slightest degree. We held eye contact the entire time as we lowered our clasped hands onto the artifact already humming with power.
A charge pulsed into the room, and through me. Iain lifted his hand from mine at the last moment. I gasped, and Iain . . . vanished.
I had only one thought in the split-second shift: see you soon . . .
* * *
Silent darkness enveloped me, highlighting the isolated feeling that had grown more and more pronounced during my odd adventure. Iain warned me I might arrive unaided when his hot-wired power boost gave him the confidence that he could send me on a one-way trip without Velloc’s help. Still, alone in a foreign land topped my list of “Things I’d Rather Not.”
The electrical surge from the time jump had gifted me another body-rocking orgasm. I’d decided the unsettling side effect had to be due to sensory overload. At least I’d been prepared for that one. Science fiction had the whole feeling-like-you’re-being-torn-in-two thing all wrong.
My vision adjusted in the inky blackness, and I quieted my mind, opening my senses. The rolling cadence of ocean waves rushed in the background. Awareness came as my surroundings clarified my location. We’d made a teensy miscalculation in the flight plan: I hadn’t landed on the floor of the cave . . . I’d been catapulted into Velloc’s home.
The situation’s good news happened to be very convenient. I didn’t have to travel the vast distance to Velloc’s village on foot by myself. I sprang up off the pallet and pushed open the leather flap, considering the bad news as I looked at the abandoned, dying fires. Velloc gone meant he and his men were away from the village. We hadn’t considered Velloc’s absence in the rules that Iain had set forth, and I’d renegotiated due to practicality.
The rules were established, not only for Iain’s territorial alpha-male comfort in allowing me to return, but also for my protection. Iain had lost control the moment I left, but he trusted my adherence to his few conditions as a way for him to keep me safe, even if he wasn’t here to personally guarantee my well-being.
My mind tackled the new scenario on the fly because, if I’d learned anything on my journey over the last weeks, adaptability ensured survival. I stepped out of the dwelling, collecting up an extinguished torch. I held the tip against the smoldering coals of a fire until the fibers ignited enough to create a makeshift flashlight. The glowing torch illuminated the space back inside, allowing me to search for clues. My whole gaining-knowledge-for-power mantra remained alive and well.
I swung the light through the room, surveying everything within arm’s length. The box sat at the head of our sleeping pallet. Its relocation made sense if Velloc wanted to make it work again without having to live at the cave. They must’ve left the box back in the cave the first time I’d arrived for a reason, though. I’d investigate that issue further later.
The beginnings of a plan developed as I chewed my lower lip. Iain’s rules helped guide my decisions as I worked through the sections aloud, soothed by the sound of my own voice.
“Rule number one: ensure my safety at all times.” We’d agreed I should remain in the cave a single day and night to await Velloc if he wasn’t in the cave when I arrived. If he didn’t show, I would travel along the same route, to the best of my recollection, back to the village. Not only had that been deemed unnecessary, I’d gained thirty-six hours in my quest by already being at the village. I only hoped the head start would help make up for time lost to actually find Velloc.
I poked around further in the small space, turning around. The table and chairs were empty. He’d taken his waterskin and personal weapons. And no yellow sticky note had been left saying, “Honey, I ran to the store. Back in a few.”
With no other clues visible, I returned the torch outside and scraped its glowing-orange tip out on the flat surface of a rock while I scanned the sleeping village. Finding my mate would have to wait until morning, since nothing short of an attack on our village would have me interrupt sleeping, or otherwise indisposed, couples.
Rule Number One repeated throug
h my mind: ensure my safety at all times. I laid my head on an improvised fur pillow I’d made, inhaling Velloc’s scent. I missed him.
Pining for Velloc reminded me of Rule Number Two, which had been scored into my memory when Iain said with absolute conviction, “When you’re there, you belong to Velloc. When not . . . You. Are. Mine.” Iain stomached the gut punch of my returning by demanding I spend a lot more time in his world. My responsibility in the warped scenario had become a necessity for both our sanity and the relative happiness of the two men affected: love the one you’re with.
I grumbled to the box. “Kinda hard to do, since I’m alone right now.”
My only audience replied with a snap of energy, traces of power still sizzling from its surface. The artifact’s remaining activity had powered down to a low hum. Our connectedness emanated a soothing warmth into my body that lulled me toward sleep.
Morning would arrive on the flip side. When it did, I planned to make maximum use of the restriction I had under Rule Number Three, which ensured my return without a supplemental power boost.
“I have one week.”
CHAPTER Twenty-three
Highlands of Scotland—Ancient Reign of the Picts, One Day after My Return
I burst into abundant sunshine after realizing I’d overslept. I hoped I hadn’t lost too much time and had no idea why I’d slept so long—my body should’ve still been on thirteenth-century time. Again with the time-travel jet lag.
The tangerine sun’s half-sky position, and the Highland’s eighteen hours of midsummer daylight, hinted that hours of precious light had already burned off along with the morning haze. I searched for familiar faces as activity frenzied about like an ant farm, everyone capitalizing on the brilliant blue-sky day.
Suddenly, a raven-haired blur raced by. I shot my arm out, clotheslining her. Before I could blink, she flipped me flat onto my back, knocking the wind out of me. I coughed, trying to speak as she glared down at me, poised to attack.
Finally, I found enough oxygen to rasp out, “Dotán, it’s me.”
A smile brightened her face as she extended a hand. “Isobel!”
Her strong grip hoisted me up, and I dusted my ass off laughing. “Damn, girl. You’ve got one hell of a defensive reflex.” My spoken English wasn’t lost on her ears; she and I had spent time daily learning each other’s language, especially slang.
I switched to Pict, cutting to the chase. “Dotán, where have the men gone?” I grasped both her hands in mine, stealing her attention away from squealing kids that were teasing the puppies.
“On a hunt for horses,” she replied.
Raiding. Great. Commonplace piracy threatened to derail my entire trip.
Velloc and I had done plenty of game hunting. I knew all of their favorite stomping grounds, searchable in the span of what remained of the day, but we’d never gone raiding.
“I need a waterskin. Were any men or young boys left behind?”
Dotán nodded. “Ungust is injured and resting. Talorcan stays at the pens tending two mares about to foal.” She disappeared into her dwelling and returned, handing me a filled deerskin pouch. I tucked my head under the long leather strap, securing it diagonally across my chest.
“I’m going to find Velloc. If he returns, tell him to wait here for me.”
Dotán’s shocked expression matched my screaming gut. I’d tipped from the edge of crazy toward insanity.
I patted her shoulder, laughing. “It’ll be okay, Dotán. I promise.” I jogged off, heading to the stables, not sure if I’d been trying to reassure her or me.
A pregnant bay mare, heavy with her distended belly, stood in the shade of a rowan tree laden with creamy-white flowers. She raised her head, interrupting her afternoon snack of tall blades of grass, her ears swiveling at my approach without much concern. My sprint-induced gasping breaths had likely alerted her of my presence long before my arrival.
I poked my head into the teepees and scanned the area, searching for Talorcan. With no sign of him anywhere, I went to the stream. The teenage boy, about fifteen years old, napped on a flat rock shaded by an overhanging ledge, his reddish-brown hair fanned around his head.
“Talorcan!”
The boy bolted straight up, scrambling to his feet as if he’d been caught sleeping on the job. I laughed. He had.
“I need you to take me to the raiding party.”
He squinted at me, the lunacy of my suggestion registering on his face. He shook his head. “I’m to birth the remaining foal.”
“Did you birth the first one?” I asked in a clipped tone.
He grinned proudly. The expression gave his face a ruggedly handsome quality over his boyish charm. “Yes.”
“And did you need to do anything? Did you touch the mare? Did you have to pull the foal out? Did you assist in any way?”
His face fell as his gears turned.
I continued, helping my cause. “Aren’t older men tending the sheep, cattle, and horse herds?” I remembered seeing two of them in the fields as I confidently spoke the words.
Without answering my redundant questions, Talorcan whirled around and charged toward the pasture behind the stables where a few horses remained, including Malibu. I smiled.
That’s the spirit. If I’d had an opportunity to choose a guide, a determined one on a mission to prove his worth suited me perfectly.
While I waited, I unsheathed the knife strapped to my thigh, cutting a few inches off the end of the leather strap on my waterskin. With efficiency, I tied my unruly locks into a ponytail at the nape of my neck.
By the time I’d secured my hair, Talorcan had mounted, nearly tearing off without me. I jumped toward his horse, waving my arms, and yanked on a rein to ensure his compliance.
I glared up at the kid. “I’m going with you.”
He scowled in protest.
“Take me with you. Have you thought to bring weapons?”
He grunted. Hotheaded and young, two things had escaped his reasoning; I’d demonstrated my value by pointing them out to him.
“You will come with me,” he commanded.
How magnanimous of you to offer. I watched as the cocky kid dismounted. He crossed the field to one of the teepees, emerging with weapons for himself.
I charged over to him, shaking my head. “Oh, like hell. I’m not your guide. You are mine. Bring whatever you want to protect yourself, but I’m arming up like no woman you’ve ever seen.” I pointed to across the field. “Harness the dappled gray for me.”
He grumbled behind me, but a glance over my shoulder confirmed he’d angled off to retrieve Malibu.
I stepped into the round, sown-skin structure and found an assortment of weapons: swords, axes, knives, bows and arrows, shields, and arrowhead-tipped spears. I scanned the collection, spotting my training pieces that were separated from the rest on the end. Velloc had been the last to touch them. I imagined him laying them down with care—the ax on the ground, the short sword’s scabbard crossed over the ax’s wooden handle.
Even though Velloc had trained me with them, they were, in every way, deadly weapons with blades honed razor-sharp. I grasped the handles, feeling the perfect weight and balance in each hand. I fastened the scabbard to my hip and strapped the ax to an outer shin with scraps of leather.
On a just-in-case thought, I grabbed a bow and quiver and a couple of thick furs. I pushed the flap aside and stepped out, tossing one of two small shields to Talorcan. He snapped out his arm, catching the disk. I attached my shield to the bow and quiver strapped across my back.
My guide sparked my curiosity, and I cocked my head to the side, evaluating him. A lean, muscular build and quick reflexes indicated someone physically ready to fight, but the men had left him behind. His reasoning skills would sharpen with experience, but Talorcan’s eagerness to correct the situation of being overlooked suggested he didn’t fear any repercussions of charging off to join the raiding party by shirking an assigned duty. Brave, and perhaps stupid . . . but it
worked to my advantage.
I approached Malibu, grabbed a handful of her mane in one hand as I planted my other, and jumped up, swinging a leg around. I sat astride and bareback, ignoring my half-naked state around the recent postpubescent man. He seemed focused on joining the action, and I intended to fuel his attention toward that end.
With a nod from me, Talorcan took off toward the south. We raced along a well-traveled path through our favorite hunting grounds. After several hours, we passed the turnoff I’d taken with Velloc, which led to the cave that had held the box.
I kept my attention on the trail ahead, thoughts in the present moment. Talorcan showed impressive skill and care in how we rode the horses. He pushed them to a comfortable limit, but held them back for endurance.
By nightfall, we stopped at a fast-flowing stream and dismounted. The horses lowered their heads, taking long pulls of clear water, lifting up and snorting before dipping their muzzles again. I cupped my hand into the cold stream, raising a swallow at a time to my mouth, slurping up the mineral-rich, fresh liquid.
Talorcan helped me gather dried leaf-litter brush, creating our beds for the night. We slept without a fire under the canopy of surrounding trees. Babbling sounds of the stream and an occasional horse snort were my lullaby as I sank into a mindless, exhausted state.
Hard shaking startled me. A firm hand over my mouth prevented the scream I almost let loose. I looked up into Talorcan’s squinting eyes. He nodded, removing his hand. In silence and on foot, he led the horses a good distance back the way we’d come the night before. We circled around and stopped behind a large mass of scrub.
Within seconds, dozens of warriors armed to do battle raced by on horseback in the same direction we were headed. Our hidden location obscured my view of the men racing past us, but Talorcan’s behavior and their direction indicated we were safer being undetected. My first exposure to a neighboring Pict tribe had been a blurred ride-by-sighting.
