She moved to the window embrasure. Her eyes focused on the dark shadow in the distance as it marched closer and began to take shape. A troop of men come to claim the land and the people.
She had to protect the people from this new threat. She, who never wished to harm any living thing, knew she might have to kill the man who commanded the army.
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Erik's men had been forced ashore by men dressed in medieval garb and brandishing deadly weapons, and the small army now surrounded them on the shore.
His ship rested haphazardly on a sand bar, a sad sight to be sure.
"They look none too friendly I'm thinking," Markin muttered in a dark, gravelly voice, his hand on the knife at his hip. "They're just spoiling for a fight, that's what I think." Jock kicked Markin in the shin and he closed his mouth, his jaw tight.
"What have we found, Captain?" Jock muttered as two men separated from the bunch and advanced on them. They were clad in chain mail and leather trousers strapped at the ankle.
Erik studied their antiquated style of dress. Both men were clothed in some type of tunic, with a quilted top that had small metal rings sewn into their clothing. One man was quite tall with a black beard and wild hair, while the other was his height and wore a helmet. They both stopped about four feet from he and Jock.
"You!" the man with the helmet said, pointed at him, "Come with me."
"And why should I do so?" Erik asked.
The tall, black bearded giant stepped forward and pointed a sword at his chest.
Erik separated himself from his men and followed the helmeted man up the shore a good forty feet or more. The giant followed behind him.
"I have awaited your arrival," the man with the helmet said. "And here you are."
Erik's eyes narrowed. "We are here upon the whim of the sea. My ship was pulled through a tempest to this harbor --"
The helmet concealed most of the man's upper face, but Erik met his dark eyes through the metal visor. The man's mouth widened in a predatory grin, showing teeth slightly yellowed.
"You may well think so traveler." He removed his helmet and threw it to the sand, then turned back to face Erik.
Erik looked into the other man's face, then was taken aback. "You!"
"I am Mandrak," the man said.
"You had me arrested when I put into harbor in Virginia. What is your game?"
"It is no game but a war of deadly earnest. Much is at stake."
"You've been following me?"
The other man smiled. "I -- follow you?" He laughed. "It is you who have followed me to this other world."
"What other world?" Erik asked, now wary.
Mandrak waved an arm. "All this. You are no longer in your own time. Here," he added, "time moves differently. Some from my world call it an alternate universe, others call it a medieval hell."
Erik looked at the castle on the steep rise, the men at arms standing at the ready, their antiquated apparel.
"Why?" he asked. He and Mandrak were of a size, but the other was a great bear of a man, his barrel like chest covered with a metal plate bearing a dragon spewing fire. His black beard spread out on all sides of his head. He topped Erik's own six foot three frame by another eight inches or more.
"It was helpful to me that you wished to find her," Mandrak said.
Erik snapped his gaze back to him. "Who?"
"The black-haired woman. Iliana."
Erik clenched his fists. He could only hope his gaze was steady and did not betray his sharp interest.
"You were brought here because the future of this world is at risk. I have come to the conclusion you may be of help in righting the wrongs visited upon this universe."
Erik quirked a disbelieving brow. "Why me? And why imprison me in Virginia?"
"I needed to learn what you knew of the woman. She has special knowledge that can help this world recover. The time you two spent together led me to you."
Erik felt strung as tightly as a wire. "Where is she?" he asked.
"A day's ride from here."
"And what is your interest in her?"
"I have none. I come from a future time where my world is also under threat. Iliana has a blood lineage to a special gem that can help both worlds, however, only she can secure it." He narrowed his eyes. "I believe you know of her quest."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Erik said.
"You're protecting her. No matter. You are to go to Dutton Keep where the lady resides," Mandrak continued. "All preparations have been made. The lady is aware a troop of men ride to the keep for her protection, and to protect the land. Once there, you are to keep the lady under close scrutiny. When she finds the gem, you must bring it to me immediately."
Erik looked at him incredulously. "I'm supposed to steal something away from her that will help her entire world?"
"I will then restore the gem to its rightful place in my world, thereby also helping her world."
"Then why not persuade the lady yourself?" Erik said harshly.
Mandrak shrugged. "When I first arrived in this time I was not myself and acted out behaviors which I've come to regret. Unfortunately, even my magic skills cannot undo that past." He shrugged. "You have a history with the lady. Gain her trust and help her find the green gem. The lineage of the gem is such that it must be moved to a new resting place once in each century. The last gem holder died before divulging its secret and now both worlds are at risk. Iliana is the new gem lineage holder, but even her efforts will be in vain if another fifty days pass without the gem being found and moved."
"Then why not retrieve it yourself?"
"Only the lineage holder can do that. It is said the gem is guarded somewhere deep in the mountains by an ancient dragon."
"Dragons?" Erik said skeptically. "Your story grows more outlandish."
Mandrak put out his hand and Ulrich unstrapped the metal plate upon his chest and handed it to him. As Erik watched, Mandrak passed his hand over the shield.
Erik jumped back as the dragon on the shield took shape and jumped to the ground, where it quickly grew fifteen feet or more. Lifting its head, a deep throated roar shook the air around them. It lumbered across the sand, the men at arms behind them quickly moving out of its way.
Mandrak turned to Erik. "If one expects to see something that is what they see. Magic or sorcery, it all plays upon the mind. You must bring me the gem, but while you watch the lady Iliana, you are not to mention my name. Ulrich will go with you as will some of my men."
"The pretender," Ulrich said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I refuse to participate in this charade," Erik said. "You have wasted your time."
"You will go find the gem or I will have all of your men killed and your ship burned to cinders." Mandrak motioned to his men at arms and they grabbed Markin and pulled him between them to where they stood. Markin struggled but to no avail.
"Stop!" Erik said.
Mandrak took a knife from his hip and lunged toward Markin. Erik grabbed his arm but Ulrich held him and pulled him back. Mandrak sank the knife to the hilt in Markin's side. Markin cried out, then the two soldiers let him drop to the sand.
Furiously, Erik struggled, but Mandrak came to stand with his face next to his. Erik tensed, staring at the man's intense dark eyes. "I will not hesitate to kill your men one by one."
Chapter Three
Erik rode all day along the sea coast with the men at arms. Ulrich ignored him, his massive horse leading the way. Erik's mind worked feverishly to record sights and sounds, taking in all he saw and heard, but knew enough to keep his mouth shut right now. It was not difficult; Ulrich was not the talkative type.
Erik thought grimly of his man Markin. At least he knew he wasn't dead...yet. He'd seen Jock tending to him before he'd left, but he hadn't been allowed near them.
Erik took note of the men's talk, crude jokes, reminisces about previous skirmishes. Was there a possibility Mandrak told the truth? From the little he gleaned by lis
tening to conversations around him, the fellow wreaked havoc wherever he went. In his years of service for his government, Erik had seen many a scoundrel, but it appeared this man, even if such exploits were in the past, thought nothing of killing. He had no indication Mandrak would be a man of his word, however, he knew he risked every one of his men's lives if he did not comply.
Their troop kept to the roads, riding through the countryside. The grass, Erik thought, should have been fresh and green, but instead was brown and yellow. Even the leaves trying to bud on the tree were small and stunted. The roads traveled were a mired, muddy mess, in some places no more than a goat path, and they tromped through mud up to the horses' knees as they trudged at one point through a swamp. The horse he rode was a sturdy steed, a destrier, one of the men had called it, and he was built solidly and was a comfortable ride. Having raised horses with his brother Darien, Erik wondered at the horse's lineage. For an animal so large, he certainly had a beautiful head, and Erik would have wagered there was Arabian in his line.
Erik wasn't too fond of Mandrak's garments that he'd been made to wear. A quilted shirt with tiny chain links, and then linen braies the men had called them, and longer trousers over those. To his chagrin, his sturdy leather boots had been taken away, and he'd been given ill fitting leather shoes that felt as if they'd been wet and dried repeatedly, leaving them stiff and chafing already at his ankles. Erik looked forward to a hot bath, should that be an option when they arrived. He would take nothing for certain in this world.
The roads gradually became firmer and dryer, and as they passed a small village, Erik was reminded of his home in the Catskills.
The dense foliage and forest gave way to an open clearing. Erik looked up at a castle as they approached. The sun set upon the stone, giving it a pink-rose hue in the late afternoon. The sky was a blue jeweled backdrop, and yet directly over the castle the sky was blood-red. Erik had sailed the world at large since he had been a boy, but never had he experienced such an intense display of color as the castle appeared surrounded by a mystical haze. He shook his head, cautiously glancing around, looking at the faces beside him, wondering if he was the only one seeing that haze.
The other men plodded ahead and he wondered how faithful they were to Mandrak. Could he buy any of them off and find a way to defeat Mandrak? An idea with merit, but right now he was a man without coin. He needed to lay low and listen and watch. His life, his men and even the lady Iliana's life depended upon his observations skills and his ability to keep his thoughts to himself.
Was it possible the lady Iliana was truly his black-haired sea witch? His fingers tightened on the reins. At any other time he would be greatly pleased to see her again, but with the uncertain fate of his men in the balance, this scheme did not sit well with him.
A shadow passed overhead and he looked up. He clenched his jaw. Another dragon. Erik met Ulrich's impassive gaze. Erik jerked a thumb toward the sky. Ulrich tipped his head back and looked upward. He shrugged.
Erik watched the dragon, the scaly wings swooping up and down like a bird in flight. It turned in the air and flew off.
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They passed through another small village, the small thatched-roof houses were the dark color of mud. Several villagers stopped to watch as their small army rode by, their glances hostile, the women running to pull their children from the path of the trotting horses. They came upon a small cart in the road. A man jumped off the cart and began to help a woman, heavily pregnant, from the cart. A soldier ahead of Erik lunged toward the cart, raising his arm in which he held a stick.
Erik put his heels to his mount, glad when the horse responded with quick agility. "Stop!" he yelled, and ran his horse in front of the other man's mount, so the two horses met shoulder to shoulder.
The man turned his attention from the couple on the ground, his scowl ferocious. Upon seeing Erik, he quickly pulled his horse back and dropped the hand with the weapon.
"I thought only to get them to move so as not to delay us," the man said.
"Ride to the back," Erik said harshly.
"Do it," Ulrich said when the man hesitated.
With tight lips, the man urged his horse around the troops and rode to the back of the line.
Erik grimaced, already getting a taste of the norm for the men's brutality.
"Mandrak would not have interfered," Ulrich said harshly.
"I am not him."
Ulrich smiled grimly, nudged his horse into a canter and rode ahead.
Erik stared after the man, wondering what loyalty Ulrich had for Mandrak. One borne of money in his pocket or did the men share a deeper history?
As they rode to the crest of a hill and then down, Erik watched the keep ahead of them, marveling at its workmanship. Built on a ledge, it boasted an enormous water-filled moat around it. As they drew near, he saw the wide and sturdy drawbridge had been pulled up against the castle's stone walls. Not a very encouraging welcome he thought. Looking down into the moat's murky depths, there appeared to be a metal apparatus beneath the water's surface.
They approached the keep but the drawbridge was pulled up tightly. The horses grew restless, and they waited another span of time before the wooden bridge was lowered to settle heavily against an upraised earth platform. As they trod the heavy boards, the horses' hooves rang loudly on the wooden planks.
An iron gate before them was slowly pulled up and with a growl Ulrich impatiently motioned everyone inside the walls. Erik looked about him as they passed through the stone walls into the inner courtyard. The stone walls were themselves some three feet thick.
A small crowd was gathered inside the cobbled courtyard. A farrier with a smoking iron tool in his hand, a woman with a wooden paddle, while children peeked from behind the adults. One young woman wielded a straw broom on the end of a long wooden handle. One by one, women washing clothes in wooden tubs paused to watch them ride by and pulled wooden paddles from the wash water. It appeared most of the adult population was ready for a fight and were arming themselves with whatever they had at hand. Knowing the deadly weapons Mandrak's troop possessed, he didn't hold out much hope for this crowd if there should be a fight.
Distrust and hostility marked every person's face as they rode into the courtyard.
Riding into the huge bailey Erik looked up, almost expecting arrows or other projectiles. Her ladyship's men stood shoulder to shoulder along the wall walk surrounding the entire bailey, not a blade, arrow or sword to be seen.
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One lad challenged their right to be there. The lad moved lithely along the wall walk, a dark hood upon his head as he brandished a sword. Thinking it a jest, several of the men at arms climbed the stairs to the wall walk, taking up the challenge from the lad. One by one, they were left teetering on the stone ledge before falling into the bailey below.
Dressed simply in brown baggy trousers and a stained fawn colored blouse, with cloth binding about his feet, the lad moved swiftly, wielding his sword impressively, evading the much clumsier men at arms as they tried to use brute strength against his lightness of foot.
After witnessing three of the men fall under the lad's blade, Erik decided it had gone on long enough. Two of the men already lay wounded and one looked to have suffered a broken ankle in the fall. Children and women stood in the yard and he felt they were in danger of being trampled by the still-astride horsemen.
Erik dismounted and ran up the narrow tower stairs. "Stop!" His harsh bark caused several men waiting a turn to fall back as he approached the lad. "Where is the Lady Iliana? This must cease now."
With his back to a dovecot, the lad paused, sword at the ready. "Would you subject your people to punishment for this defiance?" Erik asked, taking a step closer. He could barely see the eyes behind the cloth but the fragrance of roses stole around him, momentarily distracting him.
Erik removed the helm Mandrak had bade him to wear and placed it on the short wall beside him. His fingers brushed several pebbles along the stone wa
ll and his fingers closed around them. As he turned to the lad he noted that for all his cunning in dispatching three men, the lad was not very large.
"Dare you take that final step?" Erik asked, his voice pitched low so only the lad could hear. Erik raised a brow. "No one here doubts your courage, your skill and cunning, but do you dare to step forward and run me through?" He advanced another step. "Your next move could decide the fate of all who live under the protection of this castle." With a quick snap of his wrist, Erik opened his hand and let the pebbles fly into the dovecot, effectively taking the decision from the lad. Startled by the small projectiles, a flock of doves flew into the air behind the lad and around them.
Erik lunged forward and twisted sideways, catching the lad in the midsection, laying him flat, his sword clanking on the stone. No words escaped as Erik's larger frame lay atop the lad, but the eyes... aye, the eyes burned with fury. Eyes as deeply blue as the sea...
Erik pried the sword from the lad's gloved hand, then he reached for the hood. The lad threw up his arm, his wrist hitting Erik's hand. He twisted, shot to his feet and ran. Erik followed until they were enclosed in a small tower like room, hidden from the view of anyone below.
"Nowhere to go," Erik said. "You might better have left this fight to others." He pulled the hood from the lad's head.
All time and meaning fell away as the wind swirled in through the stone tower, whipping in a frenzy around them. Every muscle in Erik's body stiffened and his mouth gaped, totally caught by surprise.
The "lad" tossed the now released black curls over her shoulders as a gust tossed them around her head. Cerulean blue eyes glared at him with loathing.
"You!" A wolfish grin twisted his lips. It was true then! Here stood the black-haired witch who had taunted him in slumber and had dared to lure him, only to vanish! Erik scanned her face; black, slanting brows, the unblemished creamy skin, full lips the color of new wine --
"You do not belong here!" she spat. "I should have stuck the blade in your ribs when your back was turned." She turned on her heel and ran. He heard a grinding of stone and by the time he'd gathered his wits and followed, she was gone.
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