Jericho Johnson: The Gauntlet of Time

by J. A. Stowell

  It was around 10:00 in the morning and the wind was blowing like it always did. It really was a beautiful place. The sunshine reflecting off the snow was blinding and we both squinted hard against blinding glare. We were at the bottom of a valley a few miles outside of the village I had hung with for over three months. The trees were thick but bare, giving us a pretty good view of our surroundings.

  Then it started snowing. Not heavy, just steady.

  Pointing, I said, “Nearest settlement is that-a-way. I Stayed with these folks a while so I’m kind of a local celebrity.”

  “How long, exactly?” Chloe asked as she fell in step behind me, trudging through the snow.

  “A tad over three months.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope,” I told her. “If I recall finals were due and I wasn’t ready for all the paperwork so I decided to take a few months off.”

  I heard her laugh softly behind me. “I suppose that you being friends with anyone we come in contact with is a plus.”

  The snow had started picking up after we’d walked about five minutes, clinging to our overcoats while we traversed through the bare trees in the direction that I was hoping would lead us to the village. “How much time do we have here?” Chloe asked suddenly.

  “Huh?”

  “On the glove. Doesn’t it tell how long until the next jump?”

  Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Checking the glove, I found that we had almost six hours to burn. Which was fine by me ‘cause I was really looking forward to the hospitality of my Viking brethren. Just saying. “Right at six hours,” I said, “Awesome. Wait’ll you taste some of the food around here. It’s divine.”

  “I’m sure,” Chloe said, sighing.

  I glanced back at her. “No, really, it is--“ I started to say but the arrow burying into the tree a foot away from my head somehow, get this, made me stop talking. Weird, huh?

  “Get down!” I shouted, grabbing Chloe’s shoulder and pulling her to the ground with me. Then, to whoever was using us as target practice, I called, “It’s Jericho.”

  Silence. Then I heard scuffling in the distance as someone came out in the open with a drawn bow and nocked arrow. Judging by the figure, I could see it was a chic. Judging by the white-blond hair, I could see that it was-

  “Piper,” I shouted to her, waving my arms back and forth and smiling broadly. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart, let me tell you.”

  “Jericho?” Piper said, confusion evident on her cute face before she smiled back. I guess to her I’d only been gone maybe a hour. “Why are you still here? You said you wouldn’t be back for a long time when you left.” She told me, trotting the short distance between us and grabbing me in a big hug.

  “I’m so glad you’re back…” She said, her voice small and sincere, “Something’s happened…”

  I pulled away, holding her shoulders and looking at her hard, “What?”

  “The pact with the southern war-bands is no more.” Piper said.

  I frowned. “I know. That happened about a week ago. I thought you said everything would be fine when Bjourn went to talk to them.”

  Piper didn’t say anything but her face sure as helheim did.

  “Where’s Bjourn?” I asked her, trying not to sound harsh or rushing. The problem is that when I was here last, I’d told Bjourn the Berserker not to try and treat with the south yet.

  But you know Vikings--stubborn isn’t a strong enough word.

  “They’ve taken him,” she said, her face cracking.

  I dropped my hands from her shoulders, growled in frustration, kicked a small bush and ended my tantrum with my hands on my hips and pacing in the snow.

  “I told him,” I almost shouted, shaking my head, “But nooo- not Bjourn the freakin’ Berserker with a rep like a rockstar. No way was he going to let this thing go.”

  Okay, for those of you who’re a little lost as to what was exactly going down right at that moment, I’ll sum it up for you.

  I’d been hunting, fishing, skinning and hunting some more with Piper and her entourage for two months and also, at the request of Bjourn and his brother Bulwark the Mighty, had been sitting in on the lovely little war councils they had every Thursday night at around 6:00. Well, it really started at 6:30 but we all liked to get there early to catch up with each other and drink honey mead until it actually started.

  And don’t ask me why they referred to it as a war council considering there wasn’t, in fact, a war going on.

  Anyway, in one of the later meetings I was in one ragged scout had brought news that Bjourn’s southern borders, which were off limits by the war-bands on the opposite side of it, were being patrolled daily by the southern tribes.

  Being the brilliant diplomat that I am, I told Bjourn that, even though they weren’t actually breaking any rules by just riding the fence line so to speak, he probably should get in touch with them and see how relations were. Since shooting someone an email wasn’t an option in 793 A.D., people made pacts and didn’t speak to each other for years all the time.

  Since I could be away from danger anytime I wanted in less than ten seconds, I even offered to go as his emissary. Long story short, Bjourn told me no, called the scout a craven, then motioned for a serving girl to refill his mead-horn.

  Two weeks later, the southern war-bands sent word that the pact was no more by attacking one of Bjourn’s hunting parties, resulting in two casualties and several wounded hunters. Bjourn then bellowed about the outrage and decided that he was going to have a chat with them. I told him not to and that it was the worst idea in the history of worse ideas, to no avail.

  So he left.

  And a few days later, so did I, telling Piper, whom I spent most of my time with, that I wouldn’t be back for a long time.

  So there I was, back in a hour or so and hearing that Bjourn the Berserker, leader and ruler of the northern war-bands, didn’t listen to me and got himself captured. Funny how so much could change in sixty minutes.

  “You weren’t hunting, were you.” I told Piper, looking her up and down and noticing the extra armor and lack of dead animals slung at her side. She always was a good shot.

  “Scouting,” she said. “We heard that southern forces were marching our hills so Bulwark sent me.”

  “Where is Bulwark?” I asked.

  “In council at the moment.” Piper said, adding “Sorry for letting that arrow loose.”

  Then Piper finally noticed Chloe, the girl standing a few feet away watching our exchange curiously. “Who’s she?” she asked, looking Chloe up and down. “And what are you two wearing?”

  “The clothes are a long story,” I said, looking at Chloe, who happened to be glaring at Piper. Obviously she wasn’t too thrilled about the way Piper was checking her out. “And this is Chloe, a friend of mine. Chloe, meet Piper.”

  Chloe offered her hand and Piper shook it. “Well met, stranger,” she said.

  “Charmed,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with tons of, I don’t know, something that I didn’t like.

  “Piper, why don’t you take point? We’ll see you back at the village in a few minutes,” I told her, never taking my eyes off my embarrassing Russian comrade.

  “Just be careful, Jericho,” Piper said, touching my shoulder one last time before jogging into the snow-laden forest.

  “What the heck was that?” I shot at Chloe once I was sure Piper was out of earshot.

  “What was what?” Chloe asked innocently.

  “You know what I mean, Chloe,” I was pretty ticked.

  Clearly it was time to let little miss Russia know a few things about time-travel etiquette.

  “Her village is in shambles because their leader has been taken captive by a band of invading enemies bent on her and her people’s destruction, and you decide that sarcastic disdain is the best way to say hi?”

  Trying, and failing, to rival my vehemence, she said, “She was looking at me like--“

 
“Like what?” I asked sharply, cutting her off. “Like someone she didn’t know while scouting her forest for possible enemies?” I leaned in close to her and she backed up, bumping into a tree. “Get. Over. Yourself. While you were acting like a high-school cheerleader checking out competition, she was genuinely wondering where the helheim you came from, and with good reason.”

  Chloe just stared at me, not knowing what to say.

  “I know you think we’re just here for six hours, and we are, but these are all real people with real problems and real swords pointed at them from all direction. You’re not just watching a movie that’ll be over soon and you can get on with your life. You’re really right here, right now.

  And with that, I turned and started for the village without another word. I did stop to make sure Chloe was following me, only she wasn’t and was still leaning against the tree I’d backed her up against, staring at the ground.

  “Well, c’mon, sunshine, we don’t have all day.”

  I was still mad while we trekked through the snow, out of the forest and into the field where I’d snapped pictures of Piper doing a headstand, then a few of her fishing, then a few of her smiling at me. It seemed so long ago but in reality, for me, I mean, It’d only been about two weeks.

  Then a spear stuck in the dirt a few inches from my right foot.

  I’m going to go with my being so irate at Chloe that I wasn’t paying attention to the band of marauding warriors bearing down on us riding some of the largest horses imaginable.

  I’m not really a quick thinker most of the time. Just being honest. I was always that guy who got hit with whatever was being thrown by someone saying, “Think fast.”

  But when presented with life-threatening situation, I’m actually not that bad.

  Snatching up the spear in my gauntlet clad right hand, I rushed at the three men on heavy horses, reared back, hopped one step, and launched it at them. The man I’d been aiming for must’ve also been one of those guys who got hit when presented with a think fast maneuver, because I got him in the left shoulder, de-horsing him.

  “Get away!” I shouted at Chloe, a pointless gesture considering she’d already bolted at the nearest warrior and somehow vaulted onto the back of his horse, surprising me and especially the man riding the thing. Well, I mean, I know that I would’ve been surprised if some chic in a Nazi coat jumped on the back of my horse. Since the dude’s face was shadowed by the heavy helm he was sporting, the only inclination I had of his surprise was when he screamed and tried to throw a few elbows at his new riding partner.

  I also saw that the dude turned out to be a dudette. Which was a real bust because I was too busy with trying not to die to be able to enjoy the chic-fight that ensued once the both of them hit the ground and started rolling around in a tussle.

  Let me pause here a moment to tell you, whoever-you-are, that normal soldiers, after receiving a spear in the shoulder, would be out for the count. Or at least retreating.

  But Vikings are not your normal soldiers.

  The guy who I hit was the first one to me, slashing his huge greatsword, which he was using in one hand. Not the easiest thing to do considering how much one of those things weigh, at me. I rolled to my left, managing to get my body out of the way of the wide blade but not my long coat, which, after my bout with the wounded warrior, wasn’t long anymore.

  I didn’t have time to congratulate myself on yet another survival because the second man, who was brandishing a spear, tried to take a stab at me. Catching the weapon just below the spearhead, I gave it a hard tug as he rode past, completely pulling him off his horse.

  “If you weren’t so stubborn-“ I said, planting a foot on his armored chest and wrenching the spear from his hand, “-you’d learn to let go.” Whirling around, I ran at the first attacker, who still had the spear lodged in his shoulder. But just as I reared back to sail my second spear at him, an arrow buried in his throat.

  Ouch. A spear was one thing but something told me he wasn’t about to just walk that one off.

  But you know what? The dude kept coming at me, his sword held high for an attack.

  “What the heck, man?” I shouted, taking a stance with my spear. I was glad when he fell almost ten feet from me, though. It would’ve been a little embarrassing to maybe die at the hands of a man about to be dead himself.

  “Be careful, Jericho,” Piper said, stepping to my right.

  “No freakin’ kidding,” I muttered.

  “Jericho!” I heard Chloe scream. Spinning on my heel I saw that the warrior chic she’d tried to take down didn’t exactly want to go down without a fight if Chloe being swung hard by her arm and doing a face plant in the snow was anything to go by.

  “Piper,” I said, pointing at the woman who had produced a dagger and was about to pounce on Chloe with it.

  Without so much of a word, Piper pulled another arrow into her bow and sent it sailing. Her arrow struck true, burying into the warrior chic’s left leg. This slowed her down and must’ve made her realize the bodacity of Piper and her bow because she limped another few feet, grabbed Chloe out of the snow and put the dagger to her throat while using her as a body shield.

  Piper pulled another arrow and was about to draw when I placed a hand on her bow, “Don’t do it, Pipe. I know you’re good, and all, but I can’t have little miss Russia dying.”

  “Get my horse,” said the chic that held Chloe captive, “You, with the glove.”

  I held up my hands. “Look, lady, we’ve all had a doozy of a day so far. Why don’t you just put the dagger down--“

  “My horse,” she growled again, taking a step back and dragging Chloe with her. I saw the blade bite into skin and saw blood.

  “Alright,” I told her, starting in the direction of the warhorse almost thirty feet away. “Just take it easy.”

  Once I’d snagged the reins of the semi-skittish horse, I started toward the parley. Well, I mean, I thought it was going to be a parley, anyway. You know, switch Chloe for the horse. But once I was standing ten feet away, the warrior woman made it clear that the one holding the hostages is the one who makes the rules.

  She clicked her tongue and the horse started toward her. When it arrived, and don’t ask me how because the stupid goliath of a horse was in the way, she somehow climbed into her saddle in two steps and, get this, dragged Chloe onto the horse with her.

  Before I knew it the warrior chic had kicked her horse into gear and was bounding away with little miss Russia lying across her saddle with a knife to the back of her neck.

  It took me a few seconds for me to realize what had just happened when I saw Chloe’s glove slip from her hand during the tussle and land in the snow.

  “Really, lady?” I shouted, whirling to Piper, “Shoot her.”

  “I could hit your friend.” She said, but I noticed she drew her arrow back.

  “Try and hit her horse, or something,” I said, waving at the quickly decreasing target like a maniac.

  You know, the Arabs believe horses to be sacred animals. They treat them with respect and let them stay in their houses and bathe them and some even pray to them.

  Piper wasn’t an Arab. She happened to be a Viking. And Vikings, if you didn’t know, eat their horses.

  The first arrow missed by a few feet and me practically jumping up and down like a numbskull probably didn’t help her shot because the second arrow missed, too and by that time Chloe and her captor were too far away.

  Just wow. I’d been there for, like, literally twenty minutes and I’d already lost Chloe to enemy Viking raiders.

  Things weren’t exactly looking good for the home team.

  Just saying

  Chapter 23

  Piper was a pretty level headed girl. For a nineteen year-old Viking chic, I mean. So when I lost it and started kicking snow into the air and growling like a pit-bull on steroids, she just stood there, her bow in hand.

  Gladly, this only went on for about a minute, at which point I calmed down and
felt foolish. “Where did they take her?”

  “They have a lot of camps, Jericho,” she said, slinging her bow across her back. Pointing in the direction Chloe had been dragged away, Piper added, “But since they went west, they could only be headed to one of two camps that way.”

  I perked up at that. “Really?”

  Piper nodded. “Yes, but neither will be easy to get into with our heads still sitting on our shoulders.”

  Checking my gauntlet, I saw that I had five and a half hours left till the next jump. It just didn’t look like enough time. Remembering Chloe’s glove, I went to retrieve it. “How long will it take to get to either one of these camps?” I asked, bending over to pick the white gauntlet up out of the snow.

  “About five hours.”

  I stopped dusting the snow off the gauntlet and looked at her. “Seriously?”

  She nodded, a small frown on her lips. “But longer if we can get Bulwark and his men to help us.” I was already shaking my head.

  “No, Piper, you don’t understand. Five hours is already not enough time as it is.”

  “They aren’t going to kill her. Most likely they’ll put her to work or, if she’s pretty enough, make her their chief’s woman,” Piper said and I guess she was trying to help calm me down by telling me that.

  I took a deep breath. How was I going to explain everything to her? I mean, I could rattle off the predicament in about ten seconds but if she didn’t understand, it wouldn’t help matters. The only thing I had to my aide was a fishing trip Piper and I had gone on alone that lasted about three weeks. I’d told more things to her than the rest of her brethren one night while we were curled up by a fire, huddled close so we didn’t freeze to death.

  I know. Romantic, huh?