Falling Through Time

by Nancy Scanlon

  “Me?” she squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Explain, please.”

  He motioned for her to start picking up sticks, and they continued to gather wood for a fire. Gwen didn’t see much dry kindling, so she set about gathering leaves and tree needles.

  “Remember when I told you that I brought Aidan to the future?”

  “Yes…” she trailed off uncertainly.

  “His fate was to remain in the past, and Emmaline’s fate was to remain in the future. I displeased the Fates greatly by bringing him to Emmaline.”

  “But you always say Aidan’s a ‘pain in the arse!’” she exclaimed, using finger quotes. “Why would you help someone you so obviously dislike?”

  Reilly shrugged. “I don’t dislike him, per se. He is a pain in the arse. He made my life hell when I brought Bri to the MacWilliams. The crafty bastard had me locked in the dungeon for the wedding ceremony. He slipped something in my drink, then had the guards chain me up.”

  Gwen gasped. “Well. I’d be pretty mad at him, too! Obviously, you escaped.”

  “Chains can’t hold someone who isn’t there,” Reilly agreed with a mischievous smile. “I traveled back to the present day and waited until the Fates called me again. It wasn’t long before they sent me back to Brianagh and her beau. Aidan again tried to chain me, but I was smarter that time. He didn’t trust me at all—he knew nothing about the magic then. I’ve never said he wasn’t intelligent.”

  “And after all that, you still went back for him.”

  “I went back for Emmaline,” he corrected her, and her heart melted a little at the obvious half-truth. “Besides, Aidan and I have moved past his previous actions. Mostly.”

  A sharp cry from a bird made her glance up at the darkening sky. “Um, are we very far from your mother’s house?”

  He dumped an even more impressive pile of sticks onto the ground and began to form them into a circle. “Far enough. We’re safe for the moment, though. Travel at night is dangerous in this time, and I can much better protect you here, where I know the dips and swells of the terrain, and where to hide you in a pinch.”

  “I like the sound of that. Well, the hiding, not the need to do so. Can we get back? Will those two Fates allow us to?”

  He snorted. “Eventually.”

  She took a moment to gather her thoughts, which were swirling even faster than the words she was speaking. “That was the Maiden and the Crone, right? What was the other one again?”

  “The Mother is the third one. I’ve no idea where she was, but I’m glad you didn’t have to see them all together. Their collective power can overtake most people, which is why it’s a rare thing if they allow a person to see them.”

  She cocked her head. “I still half-believed they were a myth.”

  “Not a myth,” he confirmed.

  Silently, she chewed on that for a few minutes. “You know, I don’t think I want to know any more about all that magic for the moment.”

  He sighed audibly. “Praise the saints.”

  Gwen added her bounty to the pile, the silence of the night pressing in on her. About five minutes passed before she couldn’t take the quiet any more. “So you grew up here?”

  He smirked, as though he knew she couldn’t hold out.

  She didn’t care.

  “For a bit,” he replied, focused on arranging the wood. “I left when I was thirteen.”

  Reilly never spoke about his past. He couldn’t, actually, while Gwen was ignorant of his time traveling abilities. But perhaps now was her chance to plumb the depths of Reilly O’Malley. She had, after all, spent more nights than she could count wondering about him. When they first began their friendship, he refused to answer anything. He’d dodge questions, or redirect the conversation. By the time she’d figured out what he was doing, he moved on to ignoring her questions altogether. At the time, she suspected he’d had a rough go of it, and respected his boundaries. But now that she knew it had been off-limits because she didn’t know his secrets, well, she wouldn’t be able to resist.

  As he finished setting up the fire pit, she hoped he would tell her now. She risked a glance at his face; his eyes remained fixed on his task, and his arms flexed as he placed large rocks around the wood.

  He stood and brushed his hands together. “Come, we must catch our dinner before the light fully runs out.”

  She frowned, but dutifully followed him until they reached a quick-moving stream. She helped herself to a long drink, and he removed a dirk from his arm. He quickly fashioned a long, thin branch into a spear. Within just a few minutes, he’d caught three good-sized trout. They headed back to their camp, Reilly instructing her to pick up as much dry wood as she could find on the way.

  She brought her meager offerings to the pile and sat down on a fallen tree he’d helpfully pulled over, then used one of his dirks to begin preparing the fish. “So, you left when you were thirteen? Was that normal?”

  “Nay. What was normal was to leave your parents at nine. I stayed longer because my sire requested it of our laird, and he agreed because I was already an accomplished warrior.”

  “You were a warrior at thirteen?” Gwen echoed, a little horrified.

  He raised his eyes to hers. In the rapidly fading light, she couldn’t see their hazel color, but she could see the corners of them crinkle with humor at her surprise.

  “I was a warrior at seven.”

  Gwen tried to digest that. A child, sent into war, to kill for his clan.

  “If your dad had to ask permission from the laird…where did that leave you on the society scale?”

  “Just another member of the clan.” Reilly created a nest of dried leaves and grass, then, from the small bag at his waist, pulled out a stone and a small, C-shaped ring of hammered steel. “We weren’t wealthy, but we always had food in our bellies. My mother is a master weaver and tapestry seamstress; it brought in a good amount of coin for us and the clan.” He swiftly struck the flint onto the steel, and a small wisp of smoke curled from the nest. He blew it gently, and within seconds a small flame burned brightly.

  “Wow,” Gwen noted, impressed. “I’ve never seen that done so fast.”

  “I’m an expert level Boy Scout,” he quipped. After another moment spent coaxing the nest, he carefully placed it into the kindling.

  “Do they have Boy Scouts in Ireland?”

  “Don’t know. Colin and James were in it in America growing up, though. I went on many camping trips with them.”

  Gwen nodded, then furrowed her brow. “Reilly?”

  He sat back on his heels, satisfied, as the fire caught. “Aye, Gwendolyn?”

  “Can I ask you…questions…now?”

  His body stiffened, and she gulped.

  She quickly added, “About your past. Questions about your past. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to…but you can trust me with your secrets, Ry.”

  She patted the ground next to her, then continued to clean the fish. He rose, brushing his hands on his red and gold léine, then squatted in front of her, his thigh muscles bunching as the léine fell between them.

  He took her hands in his, warming them with his thumbs. “Thank you for your loyalty. I regret that I was never able to tell you of my past.”

  She clasped his hands to her chest. “Ry, you don’t need to apologize. I get it. You have a lot on your shoulders. I might not be able to carry some of your load, but I can certainly share it from time to time.”

  He speared her with a look, and she shivered from its intensity.

  She was either fully misreading his intentions—which, based on her past history, was more than just a little possible—or Reilly was showing interest in her. Which was ridiculous. He loved her like a best friend. Yes. A platonic best friend.

  “Your hands are like ice. Move closer to the fire,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

  She hated herself for wanting him the way she did. Rationally, she knew it was because just a few days ago she was ready to commit hersel
f to someone else for the rest of her life, and letting go of all those feelings was, naturally, quite difficult.

  At least, that’s what she told herself.

  They both stood, and he dragged the log toward the flames. When they settled back down, she took her courage in hand and asked, “How did you become what you are now? A Protector? The boss of all Protectors?”

  The firelight danced over his features, and he stared straight ahead for almost a full minute. Gwen held her breath, hoping he’d satiate her curiosity, but willing to let it drop if he refused to talk.

  She was, she thought wryly, quite good at accepting his reluctance.

  He reached for some of the large leaves he’d gathered earlier and began to weave them together. Finally, his voice still low, he replied, “Are you sure you want to hear the tale?”

  She snorted, relieved he was even considering it, and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Are you kidding? I’ve been trying to get you to open up to me for more than ten years. You bet I want to hear the damn tale. So if you’re talking, let’s go back a second and start with how old you are.”

  “Two hundred and twenty-nine.”

  She looked at him for almost a full minute before replying, “Come again?”

  He repeated it, and she blinked owlishly at him. “Something doesn’t add up.”

  “If it helps, I was born in 1245.”

  “Reilly!” she exclaimed. “You know that just makes it more confusing!”

  He fully turned himself to her. “Aye, I know.”

  “Walk me through it. And feel free to talk to me like I’m two, so I’ll understand fully.”

  Reilly placed the fish over the fire in the makeshift basket he’d made. “All right, lass. The important thing is that I was 183 when Brianagh was born.”

  Her mouth worked, but no sound came out for a moment. She swallowed hard. “I think your driver’s license is a little off.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”

  She frowned at him. “If I’m supposed to be figuring this out myself, I’m failing pretty hard.”

  “I stopped aging at thirty.”

  Gwen furrowed her brow. “Stopped aging? What have you done during all this time?”

  He sighed. “’Tis confusing even for me, and I’ve lived it. At thirteen, the Fates took me in. I’m not even sure where it was, save that there was forestry. For the first decade, I stayed with them, going only where they told me to go. I needed a full education in all things relating to what my life was going to be like.”

  “Sword skills and stuff?”

  “Swordplay was part of it. I had to learn languages, mythology, history before it happened. My days were filled with tales, books like I’d never seen, experiences that no man had ever experienced. The first couple of years, I walked around in a fog of shock. But sometime in the third year, I began to realize that this was all real.” He stared into the fire. “Time passed then the same way for me as it does for you now. When I was twenty-three, I was sent on my first mission. ’Twas a small thing—rescue a child from a tree where he’d been stuck for a few hours. I had to travel backward in time, locate the boy, convince him to trust me, return him to his parents, and return by sundown.”

  “Did you find him?”

  “Aye. But it took me much longer to convince him I was trustworthy, and I almost didn’t make it back in time.”

  “What would’ve happened if you were late?”

  “It would be over. All that training for naught.”

  “Trial by fire,” Gwen murmured, awed.

  He nodded in agreement. “’Twas difficult. Later, there was more mercy. If I didn’t complete the mission within the Fates’ time table, I’d be stuck in that time period for maybe a day, sometimes a week. But I learned more about people during those early missions than I ever did in the tales and books.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, each argument has more than one side. And each situation can have different outcomes, depending upon the words chosen. And I learned patience.”

  “You do have legendary patience,” she broke in with a smirk.

  He arched a brow at her. “It well prepared me for you and your smart mouth.”

  She grinned at him, then motioned for him to continue.

  Sobering, he folded his hands, then leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Eventually, time began to slow, though the years passed still. It was strange, watching those around me grow old, while I remained the same.”

  “So you kind of…froze in time?”

  “Aye. I was to be at my peak, my most battle-ready, for my most important task. A child was to be born, one who would be the bearer of all other time travelers, all of whom would be destined to protect the family line for a greater purpose.”

  “Brianagh,” Gwen guessed.

  “Aye. An O’Rourke, the Fates told me. One of my own distant relatives. She was to be protected at all costs, but she had to learn independence, confidence, and grace. And she was not to be told of her legacy, for it was her trial to be had.”

  “Last summer, when Ellie and I, um, got lost in your woods after being chased by the paparazzi, we could’ve landed anywhere in time?”

  “Aye.”

  “How did you know we were at Brianagh’s?”

  “Colin was—is—tied to Eleanor. They’re soul mates. Each Protector only gets one, and once he claims her, he’s bound to her for eternity. I knew their connection would lead us straight to her.”

  The fire popped, and the smell of their dinner filled the air. Gwen watched the flames for a moment before asking, “Why did it take so long to get to us?”

  Reilly tossed another log onto the fire. “Colin needed some time to admit it to himself. Once a Protector admits such a thing aloud, he’s bound to her, even if she doesn’t return his feelings. If she doesn’t love him back, if she doesn’t claim him, which she must do without his interference, he’s tied to that woman forever…it’s a situation no Protector wants to find himself in.”

  “Have you found your mate?”

  Reilly froze. It was a small thing, unnoticeable if one didn’t know his every expression and body language, but Gwen wasn’t just anyone.

  “Aye.”

  Her stomach plunged to her knees. Of course he had a soul mate. She had sensed it, but it was another thing entirely to hear it fall from his lips.

  She reminded herself that it was a good thing she was moving on from him. She wasn’t the one for him, and he could only find happiness with that person.

  She didn’t want to be the source of his unhappiness.

  He continued with his story. “Brianagh was to be raised by someone else, but my life centered on her protection. I knew every move she made. Every holiday she went on, I was there, though she wasn’t always aware of it.”

  “Was it always Brianagh?”

  “Aye. Before her, the Fates sent me various O’Rourkes who needed training in the ways of a Protector. I became the teacher. When Brianagh grew into a young adult, it was her cousin, Colin, who was the next trainee. I was to not only watch over Brianagh, but train Colin as well. It was a challenge I needed, for being Brianagh’s babysitter was not exactly the most thrilling thing I’d ever done. She was almost a full-grown woman; I needed something more to do than simply sit around and watch over her.”

  The fire popped again and Gwen jumped. She scooted an inch closer to him, a little spooked by the stillness of the forest around them. “You had your hands full. But what happened after Bri married? Was your task over?”

  “Aye.”

  “Did you go back to teaching other Protectors? Do you have new missions?”

  “I haven’t had any as of yet, as there’s been no new Protectors since Colin. I’ve had various visitors drop by my humble home, lost souls who traveled by accident or those who need my services. But lately, I’ve had little to do. It’s why I opened the school.”

  The firelight was in full play on his fac
e now; the angles of his cheekbones cast long shadows, painting his skin with dancing shades of orange and black. His eyes shone in the light, though his expression remained somber.

  “Will you ever die?”

  “I hope so.” His throat worked, and he rubbed his hand down his face. “I enjoy life, but…”

  His jaw twitched, and she instinctively grabbed his hand between hers. “But?”

  He swept his eyes over her meaningfully, leaving her breathless and breathy at once. “But I’m only a man. A man destined to watch the ones I love grow old without me.”

  “You can always travel back in time to see them, though. Right?”

  “Aye. But never for long periods of time. And I’m always brought back to the furthest point I’ve seen in the future. Right now, that’s your time.”

  Gwen frowned. “So, theoretically, when I die, you’ll be able to come back and visit me in the life I’m living now?”

  “It’ll give you pains in your head if you think on it overmuch. But aye, I would have to live the rest of my life with only glimpses of you. If I stick around you until the day you die, I’ll never be able to interact with you the way I am now. I can’t double back on myself, if that makes sense. And only the Fates know how long I’ll live.”

  “Oh, Ry.” Sadness swamped her. Of all the people in the world, Reilly shouldn’t suffer like that. He always gave so much of himself to others; for him to live forever by himself was more than her heart could bear.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Do not grieve for me, Gwendolyn. I’ve made peace with it.”

  “I can’t imagine the loneliness you must feel,” she whispered.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, and she snuggled into his warmth. “I’m never lonely when you’re near, Gwen.”

  She took a moment to bask in the glow of that statement before asking, “Are we stuck here?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Nay, I don’t think so.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “But I don’t know when we can return. During the few times I’ve been sent places, I’ve some purpose in being there at that time. I can’t go back until that purpose has been realized.”