by Kat Bastion
Velloc shook his head. He struggled with the same fears Iain had. They each risked losing me forever. Velloc had already lost his first wife. He’d also had less time to adjust to the concept of my traveling between two men than Iain, and Iain had demanded that time.
Between Velloc’s calves, I knelt behind him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, sliding my hands up his chest, kissing his bare shoulder. “We have a saying in my time: ‘If you love something, set it free.’ A bird is meant to take wing, not be caged. Let me fly, Velloc. I love you. My love for you alone will bring me back.”
“What of this war with the Romans? How does that fit into your plans?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. He’d be fighting in the war. They all would. A dark menace would descend upon them, scouring the land, threatening them all.
“I don’t have a plan, Velloc. I’m living life one day at a time as any other does. You’re a valiant leader and remarkable warrior. The greatest battle recorded cites victory to the Romans, but without their hold on the land, it’s an empty claim.”
He shook his head again, “No. Isobel, I can’t protect you if you’re not here. Wars exist in every man’s time. I do not know this man, Iain.” He lifted my hands to his mouth, kissing my fingertips. “I trust only this—only you . . . here with me.”
He placed his hands on the metal lid. I put a hand over his, careful not to touch the metal. “Velloc, no one has a guarantee for tomorrow. We live for today. I’m here with you now, and I love you. My purpose beyond that is greater than you, me, or Iain. I need to find out what role I play in the adventure.”
“No. You live for today? Live for right now.” He twisted, tumbling us back onto our bed, lacing his fingers with mine. “I’m on the path with you, holding your hand . . . only me.”
I opened my mouth and his lips silenced my protest, his body calming the fight right out of me. I spread my hands across the lean muscles of his back, pulling his weight down until all I felt and thought about was him.
He was right about one thing. I would live for the now.
* * *
Shadowy tendrils of fear slithered into my mind. I shot upright. Trace light framed the doorway. I spun around, scanning the room. Our small home was empty.
Velloc . . . and the box . . . were gone.
I scrambled outside and searched the shoreline, the village, and the broch for any sign of him. Sea mist swirled everywhere, shrouding the land in eerie camouflage.
The snort of a horse snapped my head around. Fog curled around a figure wearing a black, hooded cloak. He was seated on a black beast larger than any we had in our herd. His horse reared, whinnying as its hooves clawed the air, and I froze. The stranger cradled the box in his arms.
His animal turned around and charged into the mist. I sprinted after them, only to watch the horse, rider, and box evaporate like a ghostly apparition. Stunned at what I’d just witnessed, I ran straight to the spot where he’d disappeared. Energy sparked through the space they’d occupied and filtered through my body.
I jumped at a shift in the air current to my left, my heart slamming into my chest. Velloc stepped out of the fog. His expression seemed grave but not distressed as he stared at me.
Panic welled up.
My pulse raced.
Nothing made sense.
Constants that I’d clung to in the masquerade of my life crumbled into illusion. My mind had already accepted as fact that the box remained present throughout time, facilitating my travel between my worlds. The greater forces at work transported me from place to place—not the box.
The parameters had suddenly changed with the box vanishing into thin air, my miniscule understanding of everything and everyone surrounding the box made glaringly obvious.
In anger, I shoved Velloc’s chest hard, knocking him back a step. The man I trusted most had betrayed me. The foundation I’d tried so hard to build, to have solid ground beneath me, had been rocked by a singular act.
“How could you? You threaten to take the box from me, and while I’m asleep, you give it to another? Who was he? Why?” I glared at his chest, clenching my jaw, feeling as if my entire being was about to detonate, exploding from my heart out.
His finger hooked my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I gave no one the box.” His terse words bounced off the ice dam in my mind.
“Riiight. You expect me to believe he just strolled in and stole it from you as we slept. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” As my acid words dripped out of my mouth, they floated into my ears. The impossible had become very plausible in past weeks. Even I had to take a step back and wonder how much more fantastic the journey could get.
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes never straying from mine. “Isobel, it is true. I startled awake to find the box gone. My first thought? The tribe I’d stolen it from had taken it back. I rushed out, alarmed for the safety of our village, armed for a fight, but saw only the one man. As for how he got past us, I have no explanation.”
My gaze drifted down his completely naked body. He gripped a spear in one hand and knife in the other. Velloc’s state of undress and weaponry supported his claim, and relief flooded in, displacing my anger.
I exhaled, crumpling into his chest, feeling defeated. “Velloc, I’m sorry for doubting you.”
He wrapped solid arms around me. “It’s already forgiven, Isobel. I understand why you panicked, but know that my love for you would never allow me to deceive you.”
Velloc was asking for my unwavering trust, and yet we both needed to have it in one another. A soft voice, a plea, left my lips. “Velloc, we have to go to the tribe you stole the box from.” If what he’d said was true, another woman like me would be there. With no other viable lead to follow, foraging along the same route the box had previously taken seemed my only option.
He sighed. “Yes. We do. If I’m to have a happy wife, we do. Drust, however, might have me killed for stealing his box and returning empty-handed, asking again for what I’d pirated. The Lugi don’t handle offenses brought to light very well. Given the risk, my agreement makes me worry that I’ve wandered into a realm of madness.”
I laughed. “Yeah? Well, it’s good to know I’m not alone. Insanity craves company.”
Velloc shook his head, laughing as he ruffled the hair at the top of my head. He grabbed my hand, and we jogged back to gather supplies.
* * *
At a full gallop, Velloc led us on a different path than we’d taken before, heading due east. The direction enabled us to cover more ground with less tributaries and mountains barring our way. The few waterways we did encounter had only the faintest markings of a trail, thick foliage masking most of the path on the rarely taken route.
In a day’s hard ride, we reached the coastal tribe of the Lugi after pushing our horses just below their limit. Adrenaline had successfully conquered the tired in me, but with all the physical and mental stress I’d had over the week on such little sleep, I knew exhaustion would soon be the victor.
We approached the sprawling village. Hundreds upon hundreds of stone dwellings and teepees spanned across the landscape and stretched back into the woods. The impressive size made our village look small-town to their big-city. An inlet from the North Sea cut down the middle of their community. Wooden footbridges crossed the waterway in several locations.
Velloc boldly led our horses straight through the heart of the activity. Both women and men stopped to take notice of our arrival. Some wore animal skins similar to ours; others wore colorful fabric tunics and ornate jewelry and belts. Their blue-tattooed markings were somewhat different, many resembled birds. Recognition filtered into my brain. Lugi—the raven people.
Scents of cooking meat filled the air as dusk dimmed the night sky. A procession formed, people following us either out of curiosity or defense. I opened my senses to their emotions and detected plenty of animosity amid the curiosity.
One long fire pit stretched along the path we
walked. Game and foul roasted at various intervals on long wooden spits. We stopped our horses at the far end of the fire next to a man pulling cooked meat from a deer leg with his fingers. He fed it with tender care to a beautiful woman.
Velloc leaned toward me, speaking low. “This is Drust, chieftain of the Lugi.”
Velloc swung his leg over his steed and dismounted, nodding for me to do the same. I slid from my mare, stepping close to his side.
Drust looked built for war but remained relaxed as we approached. His long, wiry, brownish-red hair had been tied back. He dressed in garb similar to ours, only his coat of fur was clasped at the neck by an ornately crafted chain made of chunky gold links.
The woman had sleek, black hair, high cheekbones, tan skin, and bright, blue eyes. On her slender form, her striking dress had thin, braided straps of gold and black threads that held up a low-cut bodice and flowing, black skirt. A gold torque highlighted her long neck, and a golden cuff decorated one wrist and an opposite bicep.
I whispered to Velloc, “Is that the woman the box brought to him?”
He nodded in reply as we approached the couple. They leisurely turned their attention to us. The man regarded Velloc, squinting as he set and clenched his jaw. The scrutiny transferred to me, both of them giving me a thorough head-to-toe-to-head inspection. I’d been clothed in skins and fur, but nothing hid my wild mane of long, blond hair and curvaceous body in the midst of mostly dark-haired, leanly built people.
“You risk your life by coming here, Velloc,” Drust said, his low, gravelly voice steady.
I glanced at Velloc, catching his sardonic smile. “I risk my life at no time by coming here.”
Drust guffawed. “You have the confidence of a fool.”
“I know my abilities—my strengths to your weaknesses. Care to test and see which is right?” Velloc asked.
The man paused, stroking his sparsely bearded chin with a finger and thumb as he stared at Velloc. “No. We will spend the time catching up. I’ll deliver you to your tribe strapped to the back of your horse later.”
Velloc smirked.
Drust bristled, shook his head, and laughed again. “Come. Sit.” He pointed at another log positioned perpendicular to them on his right. Velloc took a seat next to the chieftain, and I sat next to Velloc. Drust growled low, glaring at the crowd that had gathered around us before they scattered.
Their leader regarded me with piercing, steel-gray eyes before shifting his attention to Velloc. “Tell me your assessment of the Romans.” Drust pulled more meat off the leg he held, feeding his woman. She pulled the bite from his hand with her teeth and kissed his fingertips.
Velloc summarized the events of the attack, and Drust indicated he’d sent a fifth of his forces to participate in the exercise. I kept my gaze fixed on the woman beside him as they talked. She appeared to be a few years younger than me. Her long, raven hair and sky-blue eyes revealed nothing about her origins. She blended with their people as if she’d been born into their tribe.
Velloc said, “Tell me about your woman. The box brought her to you. Yes?”
The chieftain scowled. “I invite you to talk and you choose a topic sure to incite to me. You know we hold that box sacred.”
Velloc maintained a low, measured tone. “I do. You know about the loss of my wife. You’d already found your woman. I took the chance to find mine.”
Both Drust and his woman turned their gazes to me again. She leaned forward, an expression of hope blossoming on her face as her eyes widened. Her lush, pink lips parted slightly.
“And . . . did you?” Drust asked.
“I did,” Velloc replied. “She has traveled to two different time periods. Once to . . .” He glanced at me, raising his eyebrows.
“The thirteenth century,” I supplied.
“Where she met and married her husband. The box then sent her to me, to be my mate.”
The woman toppled off her perch onto the ground and made no move to get up. She stared at her lap for long seconds before lifting her face to look at me in amazement. Drust leaned down to her, speaking in hushed tones meant only for her ears. She nodded.
She spoke to me in a language I failed to recognize. I shook my head. “I only speak English, some Gaelic, and Pict.”
She tried again in Pict. “You come from another time? From the future?”
I nodded. “Yes. My name is Isobel. I’m from the twenty-first century.”
Drust and his woman stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Their shock suggested their situation had to have been different. Disappointment edged out any hope I’d held that I might find a kindred spirit—someone to share in the celebrating and commiserating of our circumstances.
Velloc’s sharp mind missed nothing. “Your woman does not come from another time?”
“She does,” Drust replied. “Scota came from the past. From a land called Egypt. We do not know the exact time period she comes from.”
I blinked. Princess Scota? As in, legendary Egyptian queen, mother of all of Scotland?
Pieced analysis of myths and legends theorized her father was pharaoh in the time of Moses. I stared at the woman. Her angular features were suddenly very Egyptian. My historically addicted mind went haywire with thoughts of the mysteries we could solve with a single slumber party.
Hell, mythology had nothing on reality. Scota hadn’t married an Egyptian general. The woman hadn’t been a woman warrior who’d led an army into our land, defeating the mystical Tuatha Dé Danann. She’d been snatched out of her time and dropped into Scotland by the same magick that had brought me here.
“Scota, I’ve heard of you. I think perhaps legend has your story wrong. Was your father Smenkhkare?”
“Smenkhkare. Yes,” she replied, amazed.
At least the legends had some things right. “Then you come from around the fourteenth century BC—almost fifteen hundred years ago.”
Velloc interrupted, keeping us on task. “Drust, we need to learn all you know about the box. Isobel needs to go back to her time, and she cannot without the box.”
Drust’s eyebrows furrowed as he growled, “You no longer have the box?”
Velloc shook his head. “At dawn today, it was stolen from us.” He pinned a hard stare at Drust. “You know the thief. I feel it as certain as the heart beating in my chest. You treasure highly what you’ve not come after me to recover. I find your lack of retaliation . . . interesting.”
I had no idea Velloc suspected something more behind the story of the artifact than he’d led me to believe. The mental chess he played with Drust fascinated me; that the subject happened to be the one item guaranteed to allow me passage between worlds had me hanging on every word.
Drust’s molten-metal eyes narrowed, focusing on me. The man conveyed cunning in two seconds flat—I practically heard the gears turning in his head. He leaned forward, speaking in a low, steady intonation as he slowly shifted his eyes to Velloc. “It does not concern me what your woman wants. If she comes from far in the future, she is more valuable here than anywhere else. Isobel will help us scrape the Romans from the land and dump them into the sea.”
Velloc nodded and smirked. “Yes, she will.”
My mouth dropped open at Velloc’s agreement and lack of my defense. His painful grip above my knee silenced a building, explosive protest. Despite my instinctive reaction, I remained quiet, trusting him.
The men continued to talk, but my sudden state of mental paralysis tuned them out. As they droned on about the information I’d shared with Velloc and their best strategy for defeating the enemy, fear gripped me cold and hard in the pit of my stomach, making me feel nauseous.
My wants and needs flowed like oil, not mixing with the local water, spiraling down the drain. Their discussion focused on fighting the enemy and protecting their people. The impending war that already encroached on their doorstep took precedence over any desire I had. I’d gone from an era of women’s rights to a time when a woman’s place was bearing and raising childr
en.
I shot upright, unable to care about my safety with speaking protocol in a culture that deferred to men and their leaders. Anger at being disregarded had simmered into a churning boil.
My clipped words held venom. “I’m helping no one until I’m assured of getting my box back.” I glared at Drust in defiance, and his nostrils flared. Oh, yeah. I’d pissed him off.
The brazen outburst, coupled with my demands, trampled over the respect I should’ve shown. But I didn’t care. Seething fury had hurled good sense straight into the scorching fire pit behind me. Seconds ticked by, sounder logic seeping into my brain as Drust unfolded, rising to his immense height.
The man’s eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed, and his lips flattened into a grim line as he stalked forward until the chieftain towered over me, his hot breath trekking across my cheeks. Velloc made no movement, but peripherally, I saw him tense like a coiled snake ready to spring.
Drust’s fierce growl dictated out proper etiquette. “You stay seated in my presence. You do not speak unless I’ve given explicit permission. You are a guest . . . or prisoner . . . at my pleasure.”
The word prisoner soaked my smoldering brain like an icy rain shower and put things in the proper life-or-death perspective. Hotheadedness would not only get me nothing, it would likely get me a whole lot of nothing I wanted.
On a deep sigh, I lowered my eyes, showing him the respect he demanded. “Yes, Drust, forgive me. My emotions got the better of me.”
Drust backed off a step, snorting. He glared down from his imposing height, waiting.
Velloc scowled. His deep, constrained breaths gave me no indication of the target of his anger, but my mind, wide-awake as an espresso junkie’s, knew he fumed beneath the surface.
The smart girl in me turned and lowered myself back down next to Velloc. My impetuous, insolent ass intended to stay there, roots shooting down into the log, mouth sealed shut. Velloc loved me, had my interest at heart when circumstance allowed, and would negotiate on my behalf when and where he could.
