Time of the Draig

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

  “I stole soap. You try and stay fresh living in squalor with only a stream and one change of clothes,” Boomer said with a laugh.

  The levity was going to break the small shred of sanity she still had left. “You two bathe, and I’ll go bring Jeff and Faolan home. I don’t care who you sent to get them, it needs to be me.” With another attempt, Samantha lunged for the door.

  Boomer pulled her moving body against his. “Don’t even think about it. While you may not care, I need to make certain my niece or nephew is nice and safe.”

  Samantha exhaled as she heard Dana’s gasp from behind her. With a twist, she broke free from the hold and faced Dana. “Faolan hears this from me.”

  Dana nodded and called to the Draig warriors within earshot. As men filed in through the door, she said, “Men, the Lady Samantha is not to leave the keep for any reason. Do you hear my command?”

  Disbelief filled her as four warriors barricaded the door with swords drawn. She heard enough movement to be certain the kitchen exit was blocked. Samantha turned to face Dana. “Do you really think they could stop me?” While four would be a challenge, she knew she could take them.

  Dana stepped closer and whispered, “Take no chances with your child. The men will bring Faolan home. Be here. Be clean and rested. You will face a night of questions. Then the rest of your life is yours.”

  Samantha’s head fell forward in defeat. For so long she had waited to wipe away the scream that haunted her dreams. It was only midday. If she were lucky, there would only be twelve hours more.

  Faolan’s scream echoed in the empty field. Trees that had been buffeted by the unnatural winds stood in silent sentry to watch his world end. Sun shone warm on his back, yet the chill encompassed his being. In the moment the door closed, he died. Only his body remained as an empty shell, void of all, a husk to be carried away. Somewhere behind him, Jeff muttered, “No,” over and over as if it were a chant of prayer. As if that singular word could change what had happened.

  Noise erupted from the trees to his left, but Faolan paid it no heed. If the fates were merciful, his death stroke would come at the hands of those who would come upon his body.

  “Faolan, get up. You have to get back to the keep now,” Kagen said, running to Faolan’s side. “If Efraim speaks truth, Samantha and Boomer are even now waiting for us.”

  Without rising from the ground or opening his eyes, Faolan said, “My wife said that if the door closed, she would never return.” His mind refused to say that she would die for her efforts so that he could live. Never had his life tasted so bitter or offered so little.

  Voices murmured, and Faolan ignored them all. Let them speak of miracles that can never be. The door of time is gone, the orb of power is with its mate, and the woman who controlled them both will never to be seen in this place again.

  It was Jeff who pulled his body to stand in the field. Faolan sneered at the man and turned toward his horse. He would ride and ride and ride until he and the horse fell from exhaustion. It did not matter to where.

  “We need to go back. I can’t say I understand how, but the men swear Sam and Boomer are safe.” Jeff spoke to Faolan’s back.

  “Safe?” Faolan questioned and then turned to face the captain with rage marring his features. “There is no safety for my wife or the man I would call brother. Only death waits for them. You ken this as do I.”

  “I swear to you, cousin, Efraim swears they wait for us,” Kagen said as he grabbed the reins of Faolan’s stallion. “We need to go home.”

  Faolan jerked the reins away from his cousin and mounted his stallion. Though all implored him to ride back to his lands, Faolan shuddered at the thought of being there without her. Samantha had been so wise. He should have left her alone when she said she would leave. The moments shared only made their parting harder to bear. He was a fool to believe a handful of weeks would have been enough. Eternity would have been too short.

  Faolan turned to glare at his cousin. “How dare you listen to a word Efraim speaks! He is the one man who never offered to go in Samantha’s place. The coward sat silent while she spoke of her quest to leave me.”

  Before he could reply, Jensen added, “Boomer wouldn’t let her come to get you. Efraim says she was sick, and Miller needs to see her before Boomer will stand down.”

  Jeff, Weiler, and Kagen took turns pleading with him to ride home, to see for himself. Anger and rage battled with despair and emptiness. Hope had no place in his heart full of too many ragged emotions.

  Faolan yanked the reins hard enough to make his stallion rear. He screamed at the men, “You want to me to go back? Fine, I ride back. My keep will be void of them. But I will face my empty bed if only to make you cease your prattle.” His hand lifted to touch the pommel of the sword strapped to his back. “I will kill Efraim for spreading such lies.”

  He rode as if the devil chased hard on his heels. Noises of the rest of them trailed behind him, but Faolan did not care. Branches slapped his face, and wind tore at his skin. He rode to escape their delusions and his grief. The sun set, and still he rode. He rode, wondering how he would face his empty hall and emptier life.

  Faolan jumped from the horse before he had come to a complete stop in the courtyard. The moonless night had made traveling slow and seemingly tortured. Speed had been his hope, and the gods denied his demand. Though Jeff yelled at him to wait with commands to stand down, Faolan pushed open the doors and strode into the hall with his sword in hand. He searched the dimly lit hall for Efraim; the man’s blood would coat his blade for spreading lies.

  The sight before him would have brought him to his knees for the second time that day if he were capable of movement. As if in slow motion, an apparition of Samantha appeared at the bottom of the stairs with Boomer by her side and a smiling Miller behind them. The vision ran to stand before him, a figment in green, flowing skirts with her dark, thick hair billowing behind her. He distantly heard Miller tell all that Samantha and Boomer were fine.

  Before he could think, she said, with a smirk on her face, “Not exactly the welcome home I was expecting.” Vibrant green eyes lost their smile when she noted his weapon pointed at her.

  He took an involuntary step backward. He lifted his free hand to cautiously rise before her cheek but pulled back without sampling the texture of the tear on her face. He murmured, “I saw you leave.” The sword stayed level with her chest.

  Faolan’s thoughts whirled, and he saw hurt flash across her face. She had left, the door closed, yet she stood before him in his hall. Samantha had told him that if the door closed then she would not return to him, ever. Nothing made sense to him. He looked past Samantha and stared at Boomer. But he, too, had vanished in the field. However, whatever it was before him, it stared in anger at the sword pointed at the apparition of Samantha.

  “I dinna ken . . .” Faolan started to say.

  “Do you not want me here?” the soft feminine voice asked his blurred mind.

  Faolan had no chance to reply as Jeff pushed past him and pulled Samantha into his embrace.

  His laughter filled the quiet hall. “I want a full report, Major.” Jeff let Samantha go after she said something about needing her cursed laptop, and he stood before Boomer. “You’re right. Glad we never had that teary goodbye.”

  Faolan stood still as a stone while Kagen, Jensen, and Weiler took turns hugging the figment of his imagination that resembled his wife. He heard the joy-filled comments and the laughter shared by all within his hall in the late of the night.

  His grandmother spoke from his side. “Stop thinking. None of this will ever make sense. I swear, that’s Samantha.”

  “She left, and the door closed,” Faolan repeated. Though only spoken once, the thought echoed over and over in his head.

  Dana smacked the side of his head and shouted for food and drink to be br
ought to the tables. The merriment could be heard in the command.

  The smack, while not hard, jarred something in his thoughts. Boomer had spoken once of hope. Faolan nodded to himself as he wondered if hope had been made real.

  Too late, he lowered the weapon and moved. He wondered how much time had passed as his thoughts whirled about what could be and what could not. Samantha was already seated at the table with Jeff on one side and Boomer at her other. The dark mountain turned to glare at him as he cautiously approached. Miller sat across the table and looked at him with disgust in his eyes.

  He stood behind her and knew she felt his presence. Her back stiffened at his approach, yet she spoke without hesitation and without turning to face him.

  Faolan tried to make sense of the knot of time, or loop, as she again called it. Her explanation made little sense to him or those gathered around his table. On the day she and her men had first entered his time, the future Samantha and Boomer escaped death by using the first door to leave the lab. In his mind, Faolan remembered pitying whoever had been close to their arrival that day, many weeks ago, and seeing two figures flee in the woods. He had no way to understand it had been his wife.

  Thankful when Jensen asked for clarification, Faolan listened to the details. Ten of them left their time and place and met him in the field. He tried to buy her there and, instead, made his way home with the newcomers in tow. Once on his land, the last six weeks passed with work, battle, and love.

  Simultaneously, the woman he knew as his wife had also entered that time. The orb of power had called to the one in the future, locking onto the power flow across the span of ages. Her previous mad ramblings made sense, the orbs had called to each other, and she heard their cry.

  The door she had created in the field earlier in the day had closed as soon as she and the orb of power entered the lab. Whatever commands she had given the computer meant nothing when the orbs again occupied the same place. It was Boomer who pulled her to escape, who saw the first door, and yanked her across times and places unimaginable with both orbs secured.

  Samantha continued with the details of how she and Boomer stayed hidden to prevent contamination to his time. His stomach churned with her talk of Boomer stealing scraps from the kitchen. The hut in the fields was not meant to house a person, merely to serve as a shelter from weather when needed by the herdsmen.

  She had left and had been everywhere. Samantha had slept under his roof, yet also on a dirt floor with no comforts. She had fought in the battle for these lands in the village and also in the far pastures with weapons of immense strength. Post-battle fever had almost taken her life while she also spent her nights wrapped in his arms.

  Pieces of puzzles clicked into place for many as she spoke, though Faolan only shook his head, not caring about gunshots, missing uniforms, or medical supplies. How can she be here? Can she possibly be real as Grandmother says? As the rest of the men believe?

  With great concentration, Faolan lifted his hand toward her bounty of unbound hair. He would know the feel of its softness and recognize the texture against his skin. Before he could touch it, Boomer’s hand shot out and gripped his wrist. The dark mountain never turned to face him as his head shook to say, “Don’t touch her.”

  The banter at the table came to a halt as Samantha glanced to Boomer and the wrist in his grip. She gave her guard a small nod of clear appreciation, and she rose to her feet to face him. Hostility rolled off her small form in waves that Faolan swore he could feel. Anger simmered behind the emerald eyes as she lifted her skirts to clear the bench.

  His gaze stuck on the well-worn boots on her feet. Scuffs, traces of blood, and dirt were visible. Her boots, while not new when they had parted in the morning, had not shown that type of wear. Something in his mind clicked as he stared at the worn leather. The boots she wore had been through many weeks of hard life with no cleaning. Faolan could remember Samantha cleaning her boots the day after the battle. Her boots had been relatively clean when she dressed that morning in the tempting leather trews.

  Faolan lifted his gaze to take in the angry woman who only came up to his chest. Her face showed many hours in the daylight, many more than when they had parted. Has she somehow lived for weeks in the open so close to me? Her dark hair was longer. He would swear it.

  His eyes stuck on the braided belt that bound the dagger to her hip. The head of the dragon peered at him over the small scabbard. The dragon’s eye mocked his lack of clarity. Questions and confusion rattled in his fogged brain while wetness could be felt on his cheeks.

  The hard stone floor of the hall met his knees as he lost his struggle for balance. Clanging rang through the room when his sword dropped from his hand. Without thought, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Samantha’s waist. Her body stiffened in his grasp before a gentle hand rested on his weary head.

  “Samantha?” Faolan questioned in a voice choked with a sob.

  He felt her body shake within his arms as he rested his head against her hip. Soft fingertips ran through his wind-tangled hair with the same caresses his body knew from falling asleep within her arms. Only his Samantha touched him with such care.

  Boomer’s deep laughter rumbled through the air. “Looks like he’s finally catching on, Sam. Give the man a break. After all, we did just come back from the dead.”

  Faolan heard footsteps as the men left the hall. Jeff’s request to meet in the morning had no meaning to him. His hands gripped tightly to the fabric of her skirts. In his mind, if Samantha were a vision to float away, he would keep her from leaving by force of will alone.

  The soft voice called to him, “Faolan.” His name on her lips resulted in another sob from him, and he pulled her closer in his already firm hold.

  “You’re starting to crush me,” Samantha said. He heard the smile in her voice. “Please stand up now.”

  Whatever she wished, he would deliver. His hands shifted to loosen their grip but locked again on the fabric covering her delicate hips. First one knee rose and then the other until he found his footing. His eyes stayed locked on the dagger. Only his wife would ever hold his dagger. Such was the way of his family.

  A sigh escaped him when her hand cupped his cheek to force his gaze to meet hers. Her sharp green eyes searched his with no sign of anger. A lone tear fell from her eye, and he reached out tentatively to touch the moisture.

  His hands moved roughly up her sides to hold her face within his grasp, all the while afraid any loss of contact would make her vanish. Faolan swallowed hard. “Are you real, my heart? Are you? My need for you to be real is more than I can bear.”

  Soft laughter mocked his plea. Samantha looked up at him and smirked. “Now that’s the welcome home I was looking for.”

  With no further delay, Faolan yanked her roughly into his arms and buried his face in her lavender-scented hair. A shudder wracked his frame as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His grip tightened to lift her off her feet and spin them around in circles. Only when she pleaded with him to stop did her feet touch the floor.

  Faolan felt the large hand on his shoulder and turned to face the dark mountain. With Samantha’s hand tucked within his, he pulled the massive man in for as large an embrace as one free arm would allow.

  “Thank you, Boomer, for bringing my Samantha back to me. The sight of you both safe within my walls is a gift beyond measure.”

  Laughter left his lips when Boomer kissed the top of his head and berated his lack of intelligence. Faolan grasped Boomer’s neck and placed a hard kiss on the mountain’s cheek. Only family could insult with such love and laughter.

  Panic seized his heart as he realized he had let go of Samantha. Faolan whirled to behold her vision next to him. Relief surged through him as she quickly stepped into his arms and rested her head against his chest.

  She murmured against his shirt, “I miss
ed you. It feels like a lifetime since I was with you.”

  He smiled and breathed in her scent and relished the sensation of her small hands clinging to his back.

  “I have something for you, brother,” Boomer said as he disturbed the moment.

  Faolan lifted his head enough to view the man with the notion of dismissing any gift. All he had ever wanted was safe within his arms. The sight of the incredibly long sword made him gasp.

  “In the far fields, we took down the final assault party and the man whom we assume led the strike on your lands. He had this,” Boomer explained and held the weapon out for inspection. The pommel held the same dragon he bore on his skin and on the dagger, the serpent with a head on each end. The weapon bore a bright blue gem in the eyes of the beast. “As soon as I saw it, I thought you might like it.”

  Faolan removed his hand that was wrapped in Samantha’s soft hair to take the weapon. Testing the weight of the massive blade, he tipped it up and down. His wife stepped out of his reach, though she kept her hand on his side as if she too could not bear any separation.

  “It’s a broadsword. You need two hands to wield it properly,” Samantha said.

  Marvel and awe filled him at the balance and heft of a weapon that had been fashioned by dragon gods. Such a blade could not possibly come from the forge of a mere man. His eyes closed in horror for a moment at the thought of Samantha face to face with a man who would carry such weaponry into battle.

  When he started to protest that Boomer had the right to it as battle won, the dark mountain laughed. “It doesn’t match any of my tattoos, and Sam’s too tiny to handle it.”

  His wife barked sharp words at the man and then laughed at the truth. The weapon was nearly as long as she was.