Roam: Time Walkers World Special Edition

by E. B. Brown

  “But what rune is this?” he asked.

  “’Tis the Fifth Key. It will return you to the place you last traveled from,” Dagr replied.

  For a moment Dagr thought he had made a terrible mistake. Yet realization slowly dawned on Malcolm's face, and he finally nodded, his face tight and strained with the brunt of his emotion.

  “Thank ye, brother.”

  They embraced one last time. Malcolm set off on a trail following the shoreline, his new knife clutched in his fist. Dagr watched him until he was only a speck on the horizon. It was only then that he turned back towards the village when he was certain that his brother had taken the right path.

  Dagr smiled as he reached the village. He had a lifetime to share with his wife – and he would not waste one moment of it on regret.

  THE END

  PREVIEW: GHOST DANCE

  James River Falls, 1656

  Daniel is the orphaned son of a Powhatan warrior, born in seventeenth century Jamestown. When he is injured in the Battle of Bloody Run and left for dead, he wakes in the care of a young woman named Emmy. As she nurses him back to health, he soon realizes that she is from another time – and that she is the Time Walker his enemies have been searching for.

  Emmy is a reluctant Time Walker, sent to 1656 Virginia on her mother’s dying command. She prepares for her journey to the past as much as any modern woman could, but soon she realizes that the ancient blood running through her veins makes her a target for danger no matter what time she is in. Daniel is a complication she did not expect – a man who is tangled in her heart and her history in a way that can never be undone.

  In a time when settlers flooded the New World under the rule of English Kings and the First People fought to keep their way of life, an alliance between Daniel and Emmy is not easily achieved. Yet as their lives are irrevocably entwined by fate and circumstance, they realize they must trust each other if they hope to survive what the history books have already written.

  PROLOGUE

  The Battle of Bloody Run

  James River Falls, 1656

  Daniel

  HAD HE KNOWN what was to come, would he still have traveled that same path? Not only for knowing that it would end, as all lives do, but for the when and how of it? For truth, it was a tricky question since he was privy to the history of time before it happened, yet despite that unfair advantage, Daniel knew the answer in his heart.

  Yes.

  Even as his face pressed into the sodden earth and he tasted the muddy grit on his tongue, his answer remained unchanged. The trickle of warm blood seeping into the corner of his eye would not sway him, nor the scent of his enemy’s rancid breath upon his cheek.

  Yes. I would do it again, he thought. For what am I, if not a spawn of two worlds, a man beholden at once to all and to none?

  Blows from a club rained down on his back, taking the last of the breath from his lungs. Beneath his ribs, down deep in his belly, his muscles spasmed, and he could no longer draw air when he gasped. He could not see his enemy but he could still feel the presence of the man with the club, and although the attack had ceased, Daniel knew there was little time to catch his breath before it would resume.

  Totopomoi – the Pamukey Chief – was dead. Their English allies deserted them like cowards, fleeing from the battlefield as the bodies of Pamukey warriors fell to the muddy earth. Had Colonel Hill ever meant to stand beside the Pamukey, or was it his plan all along to run, leaving the Pamukey to fight the Ricaheerians alone?

  It no longer mattered. The Ricaheerian with the club standing above him would not spare him, and Daniel knew he would soon join his companions.

  “Is he dead?” one of his enemies asked.

  Daniel winced when the tip of a foot jabbed into his ribs.

  “Not yet,” another man answered. “Leave him. This is the one Wicawa Ni Tu wants. Let our Chief have the honor of ending his life.”

  The men laughed to each other as they walked away, their voices echoing through Daniel’s skull and pounding in his ears. When he was certain they were gone, he buried his fingers in the damp ground and moved to raise his head. With all the damage done to his body it was no easy task, and it took a few moments before he could lift himself enough to look around.

  By the tears of the Creator, he had never seen such a sight. Was this the Hell the Christian Englishmen spoke of? Only a few paces to his side lay dozens of fallen Pamukey braves. Limbs were twisted, heads bloodied. A man Daniel had stood with at Colonel Hill’s side was propped up, run through with a spear that impaled him to the tree at his back. A lanyard of eagle feathers around his neck fluttered in the wisp of a breeze, tangled in long dark strands of the warrior’s hair. Daniel did not want to look at him, yet he could not look away. The man’s eyes stared straight ahead, an empty chasm, and for a moment Daniel swore his dead lips moved.

  “Run,” the dead man whispered. “Hurry.”

  So he did. Daniel forced the remnants of his strength into his limbs, clawing at the dirt until he started to move. He darted a glance over the bodies of the dead and saw no enemy near, yet he could hear them in the distance and he knew they would return for him. When he gathered enough purchase to rise, he crouched on one knee with his hand over his belly, the burning taste of bile searing his throat. The river was close; he could smell the dampness in the air and hear the rush of the water nearby.

  It called to him, and he obeyed.

  A Ricaheerian bellowed a joyful war cry, and it was then that Daniel knew he was the last one left alive. He scrambled down the steep sandy bank and slid into the cold water, stumbling through the shallow stream bed until he reached a deeper spot. He tried to steady himself but when he waded deeper the force of the current struck him like a barrel in the chest, and for a long moment he clutched the slippery root of a tree.

  Death was assured if he stayed, yet fleeing could give him no certainty of survival. The sounds of war cries echoing through the trees drew closer and Daniel looked down at his fingers entwined in the tree root.

  He let go.

  The frigid water took what was left of him, welcoming him, and he did not object this time as the current pulled him away from shore.

  It was not long before numbness settled deep into his bones. Even in his dreams, he had never felt so peaceful, so weightless. The gentle lapping of the current rocked him and washed over his wounds, licking them clean and taking away his pain.

  If this is the afterlife, he thought, then perhaps I have nothing to fear.

  Every few moments he reminded himself to raise his head and open his mouth, taking a breath of air into his bruised lungs as he was carried downstream. A part of him realized he could not stay submerged for too long and that he must make an effort to float, but another part of him wished to simply give in. Let the water take me, wherever I am meant to be.

  Water flowed over his open mouth and filled his lungs. He choked it up by pure reflex, past caring to fight it any longer. In the murky depths of his scattered thoughts, visions of his fallen companions spoke to him, taunting him as he drifted farther away from the carnage. He could hear the voices of the dead call to him over the sound of his own ragged breaths.

  “Go,” the ghosts commanded. “Live!”

  He listened to them as best he could until the current slowed and his legs found purchase in shallow water once more. Although he much preferred to remain floating, the Creator had a different plan for him. It was with that assurance that he left the water and made his way onto a quiet sandy bank where the only sign of life was a pair of spotted-back turtles resting on a patch of tuckahoe. Loose pebbles shifted beneath him when he crawled out of the creek and he felt the quick rush of a cold breeze take the air from his lungs as he gasped and coughed.

  The panicked cries of sand gulls protested his intrusion and he could hear the flutter of their wings above him in the trees. His breath left him in a groan as he pushed himself up on one arm. He stilled for a moment, cocking his head slightly to the sid
e. He was not yet too far gone to ignore the new sound coming towards him, the creeping echo of something walking through the brush that he was certain was no animal.

  Yet when he raised his eyes and the last glimmers of amber rays from the fading sunset blinded him, the shadowed outline of a woman breached his weary sight. There, in front of him, she stood like a messenger from the Creator, her illuminated form taking the very breath from his tired chest.

  Daniel squinted, raising his hand to shield his gaze. Was this the one meant to take him from this time, sent to guide him on his final path? She was not as he expected. Not with her honey-colored hair streaming free over her shoulders, nor with her pale face defined by the glow of the setting sun. She was dressed in a peculiar manner with her legs covered with some sort of tight trouser, and he could see heavy leather boots the color of doe skin on her feet. Perhaps the Christians were right about death, and this was one of their angels sent to gather his soul. He shook his head as if the motion might clear his vision, but when he opened his eyes again and she remained, he knew what to he must do.

  He reached for her, his hand slipping down past her trousers to settle around one bared ankle.

  “Take me home,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I am ready now.”

  Instead of the comforting embrace he expected, she leaned forward and peered down at him. In her hands was an odd shaped flintlock pistol, smaller than those the English used, and as she raised it up in her fisted hand he wondered why a spirit guide might have need of such a weapon.

  “Christ!” she hissed. “Not today. I am not doing this bullshit today!”

  He had no time to wonder over her strange reply before she struck him with the weapon, smashing it into the side of his head. Darkness exploded around him. His hold on her ankle slipped away, and he sighed as the blessed sanctuary of the afterlife swallowed him whole.

  ~end preview~

  Thank you for reading & I hope you enjoyed this preview of Ghost Dance. Ghost Dance is available now HERE ON AMAZON.

  BONUS CONTENT return to text

  Note 1: James County Virginia

  James City County was first settled by the English colonists in 1607 at Jamestown in the Virginia Colony under the administration of the London Company. After mismanagement by the London Company and the Indian Massacre of 1622 during which more than 347 people (one-quarter of the population) were killed, control of the County was seized by the Crown in 1634 and was subsequently renamed James City Shire. James City County is one of the five original shires of Virginia to be still in existence today. Return to text

  Note 2: The Bloodstone

  Bloodstones are categorized as a Jasper or Chalcedony variety of Quartz. These stones are usually a dark green Chalcedony with streaks or spots of red Jasper throughout, giving the appearance of “blood” in the stone. I chose the Bloodstone because I thought the name was the perfect fit for the Time Walkers story, however, when I delved deeper into the tales surrounding this gemstone, I was fascinated.

  One of the most interesting legends involving the stone revolves around the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. It is said that during the crucifixion, one of the Roman soldiers stabbed Jesus with a spear and created the last of the Five Holy Wounds of Christ. When his blood fell upon the stones at his feet, the stones turned into Jasper, and afterward, all Bloodstones sprang from that Jasper. Return to text

  Note 3: Bears and other critters

  Before the arrival and encroachment of the settlers in the Tidewater region, there was an abundance of game for the Powhatan tribes to hunt, including deer, beaver, fish, fowl, and bear. After the arrival of the English, wild hogs were introduced because the settlers let them roam free, choosing to hunt them when needed for food, or hire the Indians to hunt for them. Eventually, disputes over ownership of hogs became an issue, as the English “ear-marked” some hogs as personal property, while the Indians did not. This led to accusations of theft and was yet another cause of tension in the early settlement period. Return to text

  Note 4: Lost language of the Paspahegh and Powhatan people

  All the character names and native terms are from either Powhatan or some version of Algonquian (mostly Eastern) or some combination of related languages. Some are known to be used as names; others are known words or word combinations that I choose to use as names.

  Powhatan and Paspahegh are extinct languages, and Powhatan, in particular, has not been spoken in over 300 years. There are many books on known Powhatan words, and unfortunately, they list mostly the same words gleaned from early English settlers who attempted to record the language. The Paspahegh people were one of the first tribes the settlers encountered on arrival to the New World. They were a part of the Powhatan Confederacy (a term the English used to describe the empire) or Tsenacomoco. The Paspahegh people were eradicated by English warfare in the early 1600s and subsequently disappeared from all written records. Knowledge of the Paspahegh language is even more sparse than that of Powhatan.

  It took a long time for me to choose a name for the male protagonist, who ended up being called Winn, as you now know. I actually called him "Joe" in very early drafts until I could settle on something more authentic. I knew I wanted something real, something with meaning, and something that could be shortened into a nickname while still seeming authentic. After all, it's kind of a mouthful, and it IS a romance, so I needed something the main character could say with emphasis when she, ah, um, was … happy to see him. The beauty of writing fiction? It's fiction. Some of it is actually made up.

  So here it is, meanings for a few names, with associated language notes.

  Winkeohkwet: "The Raven." Eastern Algonquian

  Ahi Kekeleksu: "He laughs a lot." Eastern Algonquian

  Chulensak asuwak: "The birds are singing." Eastern Algonquian

  Makedewa: Algonquin (Central Algonquian)

  Nemattanew, Opechancanough, and a few others are historical figures. There is a lot of conflicting information about both of these men, and also multiple spellings for their names. In addition, Indian men (and women) often had multiple names throughout their lives. Nemattanew was also called "Jack of a Feather" by the English. Opechancanough was called many things: Weroance, Mamanatowick, and Mangopeesomon, to name a few.

  Using language from an extinct culture in any fictional work presents problems. Either you have some sort of authentic historical record to draw from, or you do not. In the 2006 movie A New World directed by Terrence Malick, linguist Blair Rudes (University of North Carolina at Charlotte) came upon the issue of how to accurately portray an extinct language, and you can read a good article about it here. Although I have authenticity issues with the way the movie portrayed the relationship between Pocahontas and John Smith, I think that the immense amount of research Rudes did on the writings of William Strachey and John Smith gave the language an accurate portrayal and authentic quality. I ran into the same issues when creating the fictional Time Walkers world.

  I chose to include basic names and keep things as simple as possible for the continuity of the story; I didn't want the reader to have to re-read sentences multiple times or stumble over the meaning of multiple languages. I have the utmost respect for those authors who master deep historical writing. Although I do an immense amount of research (sometimes on the most inconsequential things!), I am no expert. At the end of the day, I am a fiction writer and I try to give the reader an enjoyable escape into the story of another time for a short while. Return to text

  Note 5: Hair and Powhatan men

  The way Winn wore his hair was very common to young Powhatan men of that period. Winn wears a particular style where the right side of his head is shaved, or plucked, so that a crescent moon shape is clean above the right ear. This style keeps the hair out of the way when using a bow. Sometimes the area on top of the head was cut short or roached as well. The rest of the hair could be worn down and loose, or it could be braided or bound into a knot at the back of the head. The hair can be removed by plucking or shavin
g. I chose to use shaving in one particular scene between Maggie and Winn because it seemed to fit better at the time. Other warriors wore a "scalp lock" hairstyle, which is a completely shaved (or plucked, ouch!) head with a single tail of hair protruding from the back of the head. The piece of hair could be left trailing down the back, but it was most often braided or bound, and decorated with feathers, claws, shells, or other trinkets. Both men's hairstyles were common to the time and were functional rather than aesthetic. I can't imagine the hair-shaving scene would have been very entertaining if Maggie had been plucking Winn's hair, piece by piece...I can see it now...ouch, ouch! Return to text

  Note 6: The reality of infection in colonial times and how a small wound could very well be the end of you

  Although the Powhatan people had a strong connection with spiritual rituals and healing, dying from wound infection was a real problem. One of the hallmarks of Powhatan medicine was the goal of establishing a balance between dry and wet in the body. One particular treatment the Powhatan favored was the use of a sweat house to remove moisture from an ailing person to restore stability. In addition to the use of herbal medicines (called wighsacan) such as puccoon root made into a salve to draw pain (heat) out of the body, Powhatans treated injuries with the direct use of heat. For the treatment of aching joints, a small stick of wood was inserted at the painful site and then burned down to the skin, leaving a blister or wound filled with fluid which was considered the “release” of the malady (water) from the body.

  John Lawson in his 1714 book, The History of Carolina, noted "An Indian hath been often found to heal an English-man of a Malady . . . which the ablest of our English Pretenders in America, after repeated Applications, have deserted the Patient as incurable; God having furnish'd every Country with specifick Remedies for their peculiar Diseases." The Indians were not immune to death and illness, but at times, their methods were superior to European treatment and the English noted the same.