Time Shards

by Dana Fredsti

  “We should have tied him up better,” Nellie muttered under her breath.

  “We should have killed him,” Amber growled back.

  Stearne turned his eye on her and slowly strode up. He knelt until they were eye to eye.

  “Thought you to make a fool of me?” His soft, silky voice made her skin crawl. “See now who is the fool, brazen harlot. Look upon your fate.” He pointed, and she followed the gesture to the line of stakes. Several soldiers poured oil on the kindling, while others stood by with lit torches.

  Amber had heard the phrase “burned at the stake” dozens of times without giving it any thought. Now she knew exactly what it meant. The growing realization horrified her, and made it hard to breathe.

  She turned her head to escape Stearne’s triumphant gaze and saw Nellie glaring daggers at the Puritan. Alex and Harcourt stared ahead in numb despair—even Simon was silent. Cam was the only one still fighting, gripped firmly in a headlock by a pair of soldiers who struggled to keep him under control.

  Merlin, on the other hand, gazed into the distance and mumbled to himself, seemingly oblivious to the drama around him.

  Tears stung Amber’s eyes. Had she doomed these people by insisting on rescuing a madman? There had to be more to him than what they were seeing, she knew it—and yet at that moment, none of it mattered. They had failed, and they were going to die. Horribly.

  “These are dark times.” Stearne rose and stretched out his arms, addressing the crowd again. “These are the end times, when dreadful omens appear across the land and all the works of man, yea, even the very foundations of the earth, have been shaken by the hand of the Almighty. Soon shall come the end of days, and with it a new Jerusalem for those who remain faithful to His holy word.”

  “And what sayeth His holy scripture?” He turned to the prisoners and pointed an accusing finger at them. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

  A roar went up from the crowd.

  “What about Lord Fairfax?” Amber yelled, struggling to be heard over the ruckus. “He’s the one in charge. You know he wouldn’t want this. You soldiers! He didn’t order this!”

  “You know she’s right!” Nellie shouted. “Lord Fairfax knows we’re innocent! He’ll court-martial all of you if you go along with this madman!” Their words rattled the soldiers visibly. Some shot sidelong looks at each other.

  “Keep silent, you lying Jezebels,” Stearne spat. “We ought to obey God, rather than men! As for me and my house, we shall serve the Lord.”

  “You can’t just kill people without a trial,” Amber protested. “That’s murder!”

  The witch hunter ignored her. “Take them to the stakes,” he shouted. “We have endured their presence too long already. The time has come to obey the Lord’s command, and put an end to it!”

  The crowd erupted in another righteous bellow of anger and fear. The soldiers dragged the condemned to their feet and marched them over to the stakes, hauling them atop the crunchy, rickety stacks of oil-drenched tinder.

  Amber stood in shocked silence as their erstwhile jailer wrapped her in links of chain, a grin on his ugly face. She watched the twisted, hateful faces of the villagers who cheered him on, and the soldiers standing carefully off to the side with torches, awaiting their part. She looked anywhere but at Stearne—she didn’t want to see his triumphant expression.

  * * *

  It took four soldiers and an armored fist to the head to secure Cam to his stake. Even then, he strained against the chains.

  Camulos, grant me strength. Andraste, Queen of Ravens, give not our flesh to your birds yet. She who has not fallen, let me not fall here without vengeance. Break these chains to let me battle them now, or consign my howling spirit, merciless and terrible, to haunt them forever.

  He turned to look at Amber, a mixture of fury and helplessness in his expression. He would give his life to save her from this fate.

  * * *

  Certain that she was about to die, Amber tried to think of her family, and everyone she’d loved in her life. Instead she found herself distracted by the sight of Merlin, and by the thought she’d never even know his real name. He continued to mutter to himself, and looked like a real-life martyred saint now, gazing up to heaven in an unending stream of rapturous prayer.

  Except he wasn’t gazing skyward.

  Instead he stared fixedly out to the west, down the long main road. Amber followed his gaze and saw a group of horsemen, swiftly approaching. They looked important, yet they were coming the wrong way for it to be Lord Fairfax.

  “Look! It’s Cromwell!” a soldier cried out.

  As a wave of recognition spread through the crowd, cheers of joy broke out from villagers and soldiers alike. Only Stearne didn’t seem to share their enthusiasm.

  “Make way!” one of the newcomers cried. “Make way for the lieutenant-general!” And the crowd quickly obliged, creating a path that allowed Cromwell’s horse to pull close to the stakes and kindling. Amber couldn’t help but stare at him as he rode up.

  He looked so… so ordinary. So unexceptional. Not like someone who’d changed the course of history. Cromwell raised a hand to calm the crowd’s excitement, and addressed them.

  “Divine Providence has brought us to you,” he called out, “with reinforcements and good tidings!” A cheer went up. “The Welsh have been defeated at Pembroke!”

  Another cheer erupted.

  “The Scots have been defeated at Preston, and the rest of the Parliamentary army and horses march behind us, coming to put a swift end to this rebellion.” At this last bombshell, the crowd went wild. Even the most hardened soldiers gestured enthusiastically. Then Cromwell’s face darkened as he took in the scene before him.

  “But what is this Papist spectacle?” He looked around accusingly. “Who gave the order to permit some damnable Spanish auto-da-fé?”

  “Sir, my lord lieutenant-general—” Stearne looked shell-shocked. He removed his hat and attempted a nervous bow.

  “Are you the varlet responsible?” Cromwell’s voice was hard as iron. The witch hunter seemed to virtually melt under the commander’s gaze.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord. I am, but you see—”

  “Arrest this man at once!”

  After just a moment of confused hesitation, a pair of soldiers seized Stearne. He sputtered and tried to protest, but the lieutenant-general shut him down.

  “Get him out of my sight! He will stand trial for this outrage.” Then he gestured toward the prisoners. “Free these people at once, and fetch yonder wagon. These blameless folk are innocent, and possess much critical information needed by Parliament. They shall come with us back to London. Step to it, post haste!”

  Stearne squirmed and begged for mercy, but the Roundheads dragged him off with the same enthusiasm as they had shown his victims. Still more soldiers hurried to unchain Amber and the others, helping them down from the tangled piles of firewood. Some were gentler than others.

  Professor Harcourt practically swooned when he was released, forcing two soldiers to support him.

  When they released Cam from his chains he leapt to the ground and hurried to Amber’s side, looking uncertain at what had just transpired. The moment she saw him, she grabbed him and hugged him hard.

  The stolen wagon, still loaded with their things, was quickly brought around—complete with a volunteer driver. The soldiers, so recently ready to burn them alive, became the very models of courtesy while helping Amber into the wagon, each eager to have Cromwell take notice.

  Cam snarled, shaking off the helping hands, then hopped up in the wagon on his own and sat down beside Amber. Alex and Nellie got in, followed by Simon.

  “Get your poxy hands off me, you wankers,” he growled at the soldiers when they tried to help him up.

  Amber turned her attention again to Merlin. Though seeming to have recovered from his horrific wounds, the man seemed unaware of the soldiers. He’d stopped mumbling, and walked like a zombie, his unblinking star
e fixed on some infinitely distant point as Amber and Cam pulled him up to join them. He sat down, Indian style, across from Amber, though he kept his head turned to the front.

  “You’ve all done well,” he whispered, so softly that even Amber had to strain to hear him.

  “What’s that?” she asked him.

  “You’ve all done well,” Cromwell called out in a loud voice.

  “Now we must needs make haste for London,” Merlin breathed.

  “Now we must needs make haste for London,” the lieutenant-general announced to the crowd. Amber looked from Merlin to the soldier, thoroughly confused.

  Last up to board the wagon was Harcourt. He had one foot on the running board when he suddenly broke away from his helpers and practically staggered over to where Cromwell and his entourage waited on horseback.

  “My dear Lord Cromwell,” Harcourt said, teary-eyed. “Please allow me to extend my deepest thanks at your fortuitous and most gentlemanly rescue of my companions and myself. We are forever in your debt, and indeed, perhaps I speak for all of England when I say—” He reached up to grasp Cromwell’s hand, closing his eyes as if in prayer. “—thank you.”

  A gasp went out from the crowd.

  A woman screamed.

  The former prisoners—except for Merlin—all turned to see what was the matter.

  “Holy shit,” Amber said.

  * * *

  Harcourt moved close to Cromwell’s mount, then through it.

  “What sorcery is this?” an angry voice cried out. Others picked up the cry.

  “You fool! Get in the wagon!” Merlin yelled, getting to his feet.

  “You fool! Get in the wagon!” Cromwell implored the crowd.

  Unnerved by the commotion, Harcourt opened his eyes. Finding himself in the middle of man and horse, he panicked and lashed out with both hands as if to clear a path through the horse’s hindquarters. One flailing arm connected with something solid. Instantly Cromwell and his riders vanished, replaced by a glossy obsidian sphere about twice the size of a billiard ball, hanging perfectly still in the air.

  Terror swept through the onlookers.

  Without warning, and with surprising strength and vigor, Merlin shoved the gawking driver to the ground and took up the reins.

  “Hang on!” he yelled. “We’re out of here! Giddy-up! Yah! Yah!” The horses lurched forward, jolting the wagon’s passengers.

  “Hang on! We’re out of here! Giddy-up! Yah! Yah!” echoed the little black floating sphere.

  The professor’s panic turned to terror as he saw the wagon leaving without him. He let out an involuntary squawk of alarm.

  “Wait!” he cried. “Wait for me!” Merlin, however, showed no signs of stopping. Harcourt ran and leapt as the wagon went clattering past. Simon and Alex caught him, hauling him up as they would a flopping trout onto a boat.

  “A gentleman… never… runs…” Harcourt wheezed.

  Simon sat up and cupped his hands at the angry mob. “Bollocks to Cromwell! Fuck right off!” he hollered with malicious glee, finishing with a two-finger salute.

  Merlin whipped the reins like a madman, sending the horses into full gallop.

  He turned his head back for a moment.

  “Groucho! Cromwell program off and return!” he called out. A few moments later a whistling sound rose on the wind, and the glossy black sphere came humming through the air after the wagon, quickly overtaking it. It settled into a holding pattern about a foot above Merlin’s shoulder, matching their speed.

  “Harpo and Chico,” Merlin called out again. “Activate and run program two!”

  About a hundred yards behind them, a forty-foot tall tyrannosaurus abruptly blipped into existence and let out an ear-splitting roar. Harcourt gave a high-pitched scream and Merlin cackled. His passengers watched the show in wonderment as they continued to speed down the road, past fields and farms.

  Simon called up to the front.

  “Oy! We’ve got company coming!”

  Amber spun and watched as two-dozen riders or more thundered up the road in hot pursuit. Merlin whirled, eyes blazing.

  “So quickly? Damn it!” he swore. He rubbed his chin. “Seems the primitives aren’t as dumb as they look. Time for more sophisticated tactics.”

  The wagon gave a sudden lurch as the road abruptly ran out, turning into wild heathlands.

  “Damn it! We’re out of the shard. Somebody take the reins!”

  “I’ll do it!” Nellie replied. She hopped up and took over. Merlin turned around and directed his full attention to their pursuers. The black sphere moved closer to him. The horses continued to strain, but the wagon moved noticeably slower now on the uneven terrain.

  “We’ll never outrun them like this!” Nellie shouted over her shoulder.

  “No… not like this…” Merlin agreed. He sat down Indian style again and settled into a guru-like stance. With a look of intense focus, he began to calmly rattle off a string of commands.

  “Harpo, Chico, kill program two and return.

  “Groucho, climb two point five meters and give me a good wide bird’s eye. Come down seventy-five centimeters… Hold it, that’s enough.

  “Now give me a full three-sixty degrees, full cone image. That’s it. Record for five seconds and return…”

  Amber watched him with a newfound sense of awe as he continued to direct his magical floating sphere. It dropped back down and took to hovering above his shoulder, quickly joined by two more flying in from far behind them.

  They must be drones, Amber thought.

  Merlin turned to Nellie. “As soon as we drop behind this next rise, stop the wagon.” She looked back in fear at the riders pursuing them, just a few hundred yards behind and gaining. She turned to Merlin.

  “We can’t stop here!” she yelled back. “Look at them!”

  “You madman! We daren’t stop now!” Harcourt echoed with a wail.

  “Just do it!”

  Nellie shook her head, but the moment they crested the next low hill, she pulled up on the reins.

  “Whatever you’ve got planned,” she said, “do it fast!”

  Merlin gave a sharp nod.

  “Groucho, run a trailing cloak on these parameters.” The floating orb took station above the wagon, projecting a wall of light behind them.

  “What’s it doing?” Amber asked.

  “Groucho here is projecting an image at the back of the wagon. It’s not perfect, but for our purposes it’s the next best thing to invisibility.”

  “But they’re charging up now!” Alex cried. “They’ll charge right into us!” It was true. They could hear—and feel—the thundering hooves of the approaching horses.

  “Not if we can throw them off our trail,” Merlin said with a determined glint in his eye. “Now everyone be quiet. Harpo, Chico, link to Groucho, upload feed for replay on continuous loop. Name your files decoy one and decoy two respectively, and put them on deck. Activate scatter pattern and leapfrog modes on my mark, and… now!”

  The two other drones sped away from them again at a sharp right angle, heading across the heath. The sound of hoofbeats reached a crescendo and the Roundheads suddenly appeared over the rise directly behind them.

  Amber gasped.

  “Don’t make a sound!” Merlin hissed.

  The riders reined in their horses, coming to a dead stop just a few yards away. Amber grabbed Cam’s arm and put a finger to her lips, while the professor stuffed a hand in his own mouth to keep from making any noise.

  A moment later, an exact duplicate of the wagon, complete with passengers, came to life two hundred yards to their right and raced noisily across the countryside.

  “There!” One of the riders pointed, and the whole company turned as one. They spurred their steeds, some passing within a few feet of the real wagon as they thundered off in pursuit of its phantom twin.

  32

  This is totally surreal, Amber thought, watching the hologram speeding away in the distance, complete with so
und, leading the Roundheads on a wild goose chase. Merlin took up the reins again. Once the horsemen were out of earshot they set off, veering in the opposite direction from their pursuers.

  “Where do we go now?” Alex asked from the back of the wagon.

  “We head south, Constable Brice,” Merlin called back.

  “Why south?”

  “My vessel is that way,” he answered. “We’ll be safe once we get aboard her.”

  Harcourt stiffened. “Safe on a ship?” he shrieked. “God’s teeth, man, that’s madness! My ship was blasted by pirates, and then torn to pieces by a behemoth! Out of four hundred and fifty souls, I was the sole survivor, and only by the skin of my teeth!”

  Nellie turned around and glared at him. “Harcourt, you are an insufferably obtuse man. Sole survivor, my foot!”

  The professor stared at her for a long moment before the realization hit.

  “Good heavens!” he said. “You’re the American woman from the ferry. Miss Corcoran! You are truly a master of disguise.”

  “Cochrane, you idiot,” Nellie spat back. “Yes, it’s me, and no thanks to you. We might’ve made it to shore together, if it hadn’t been for that precious case of yours. As it was, I narrowly escaped being gobbled up by that gargantuan shark, and wound up clear on the other side of the estuary.” She took a deep breath to compose herself.

  “It’s just as well,” she continued. “I was able to make it as far as Colchester without attracting attention, and you don’t exactly have a knack for getting around inconspicuously, or blending in once you arrive.”

  Harcourt could only sputter in response. Simon grinned broadly, seeming to take great pleasure from this exchange, and even Amber had to suppress her smile. She felt just a little bit sorry for the professor, though. His role of hero had been blown completely out of the water.

  “There’s no need for you to worry, Professor Harcourt,” Merlin said with a casual wave of one hand. One of the spheres still hovered nearby. “You’ll find my vessel one hundred percent shark-proof, no matter how large the shark.”