by Dakota Chase
I had my arms around Ash’s waist, and for a minute I was distracted by how good it felt. His body heat radiated into me like my own personal space heater. It sort of made up for the way my body ached from my treatment over the past twenty-four hours.
Sitting on the horse, I was keenly aware of muscles I hadn’t known I’d had, and every one of them hurt like hell. I felt like a piece of steak Gunther had tenderized with his fists. I’m pretty sure I was black and blue from the neck down.
We kept a more or less sedate pace until we finally turned off the main road. Once the wheels of the cart hit the side street, the driver—whose name Ash said was Kruger—jiggled the reins and flicked his whip against the cart horses’ hindquarters. They jolted forward into a canter, pulling the cart more swiftly over the rutted road. Another moment passed and they were at gallop, racing hell-for-leather through the Trier streets.
Samson kept up with ease. I had no doubt he could’ve outraced them, especially since they were in tandem and pulling a cart, but something told me he could outpace them even if they’d been free of encumbrances. He was a truly magnificent animal. I could feel his muscles working fluidly under my bottom and thighs. He was built for power, and if unleashed, he’d be a juggernaut.
I only hoped Ash could control him. Giving him his head on these narrow city side streets could mean a broken leg for him and a pair of broken necks for us.
Ash surprised me. He handled Samson fairly well. There were only a couple of times when I thought Samson might be controlling Ash instead, but all in all it was a breathtaking, heart-pounding, but happily accident-free ride. At least, I think he did well. We weren’t thrown and killed, which was a good indication. After all, although my family owned horses, and I knew quite a bit about what made a horse a good investment, the most actual riding I’d ever personally done was on a carousel.
After another turn, the stone bridge with its twin turrets came into view. Then the horses’ hooves were clopping loudly on rock as Kruger urged the grays forward at a gallop, with Samson following closely behind the cart.
A pair of startled guards jumped up as the cart breached the midway point of the bridge. I suppose the speed at which the cart bolted across the bridge made them question what we were running from. They bravely stood their ground, swords drawn right up, until the gray horses and cart were within twenty feet of them. Then they dove for the sides of the bridge, rolling on the ground to avoid being stomped into pudding by hard hooves and wooden wheels.
Samson carried us safely past them as well. I grinned and could feel the wind on my teeth. It was a glorious feeling, and I couldn’t help giving Ash a little squeeze. It was so exciting! Night rides at furious speeds through a medieval city, facing down armed guards, and then…. Freedom!
We left the bridge behind us. I was sort of shocked that nobody was chasing us, at least not yet. A glance back showed me an eerie sort of orange glow hanging over the city. For a “little” explosion, it was enough to keep everyone from trying to catch a cart of escaping prisoners. Even if we only had two of them onboard, I didn’t think von Schönenberg or Meier were the type of men to let an insult like two kids breaking into their dungeon and freeing all their prisoners go unanswered. Only a more dire situation would force them to keep their men from chasing us. If the orange glow over the city was any indication, then Ash’s “little” explosion had caused a not-so-little fire.
Once the city was no longer in sight, we left the road and traveled overland. Our pace slowed—the horses couldn’t keep up that pace indefinitely. We still covered ground fairly quickly, or at least faster than I would’ve expected. It seemed to take much longer than when I’d made the journey coming into town with Wilhelm and Ash.
Now that we were traveling at a more sedate pace, I figured we could hold a conversation. “Ash, what if you end up burning Trier to the ground? We’ll never get home.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I told you before. It was just a little explosion.” He shrugged. “I think it may have caught the roof on fire, though. I’m sure they’ll put it out.”
“Oh my God. You don’t think things through! There must’ve been another way—”
He turned his head as far as it would go without twisting it 180 degrees like an owl. “Are you kidding me right now? I saved your ass, and you’re going to criticize how I did it?”
“Yes! I mean no. I mean…. Look, I’m really grateful you got me out of there. I am. I’m just worried we may have caused more trouble instead of fixing what we did when we first got here.”
“Can’t you once just believe I know what I’m doing? I’m not stupid, Grant, no matter what you think.”
“I never said you were stupid!”
“You didn’t have to.” He faced forward, and I could feel the tension in his body. Shit. How did I always manage to piss him off?
The sun was rising by the time we reached a rushing stream. It was wide but shallow, and the horses crossed with no incident. On the other side, Wilhelm called for a halt. The horses needed to rest.
It was just as well. I needed to find a way to apologize to Ash. He did rescue me, after all. I should be grateful, not judgmental.
We slid off Samson’s back, me first, then Ash. I groaned out loud as my body protested. “Oh, man. I feel like somebody beat me hard and hung me out wet to dry.”
Ash grunted. He wasn’t speaking to me, I guess, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d behaved like a genuine dick.
“Hey, man. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m grateful. I really am. How did you manage to get your hands on Meier’s black powder?”
He shrugged. “S’okay, I guess. It just bugs me that you never seem to think I’m capable of anything except playing video games or screwing up.”
“That’s not true. I’m sorry if I made you think so.”
I got a small smile from him and knew I was forgiven—this time. I had to make an effort to stop second-guessing him all the time, though. And being bossy. I admit I’m a bit of a control freak. “So, the explosion? How’d you get the powder?”
“I got Ordulf to get it for me.”
Now that impressed me. “Seriously?”
“Yup.” He shrugged and grinned. “Wilhelm helped.”
We laughed and wandered toward the cart. “Brida? How’s your mother doing?” Irmla had been so sick in the prison. I knew if she’d been left in that filthy, damp cesspit she would’ve died.
“A bit stronger, I think. She doesn’t feel as feverish.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
She nodded. “Actually, yes. See that willow tree, yonder? Take a knife and cut through the outer bark, then peel a few pieces of the inner bark for me. I’ll make Mother a tea for her fever and pain from it.”
We happily ran off to do as Brida asked. By the time we returned, Kruger had a fire going and was roasting potatoes and a few other vegetables on it. The smell made my stomach growl—I hadn’t really eaten in two days. The slop they threw at you in the prison could hardly be called food. It’d smelled rancid, and I hadn’t touched it.
What I wanted was a Big Mac. Or maybe some of the Colonel’s fried chicken. God, the thought of fast food made my mouth water. Unfortunately, another part of me wanted to water too, and for that I needed a bush. “Gotta pee.”
Ash nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
We walked for a while, following the stream, chatting as we went. As we passed around a bend in the river and were out of sight of the rest of the party, our conversation turned to the reason we’d been sent to medieval Germany to begin with. “So, where did you stash the book? Is it in the cart, or did you leave it at the Bauer farm?”
Ash grinned at me. “Are you kidding? After all the trouble we went through to get it, I wasn’t about to let it out of my possession.” He dug into his pouch and pulled out the familiar small book. “It’s right here.”
Suddenly, a strong sense of vertigo hit me. I reached out for Ash, grabbing hold of him to keep from falling over
. The world began spinning faster and faster, everything around me blurring.
Then, just as quickly, everything went black.
I was surprised but not afraid. I’d felt it all before, and this time it came as a relief. Merlin’s magic had finally kicked in. We were going home.
Epilogue
I NEVER thought Merlin’s wrinkled, white-bearded face with its blue eyes and bushy white eyebrows would be a welcome sight, but I was so happy to see him when I opened my eyes, I could’ve hugged him.
He seemed to sense it too, because he pulled back immediately. “Welcome back. May I have my book, please?” He held out a gnarled hand.
The vertigo passed, but I was still feeling a little shaky inside. Grant lay next to me on the schoolroom floor, his eyelids beginning to flutter. “Oh, sure.” I dug into my pouch—and found it was gone. I had a moment of panic, thinking I’d somehow managed to drop it on the magical journey home. Then I realized I was no longer dressed in medieval clothing but in my own familiar, comfortable jeans and T-shirt.
The book was in my back pocket, safe and sound. I pulled it out and handed it over to Merlin. “Here, and good riddance. I never want to see that thing again as long as I live.”
Merlin’s mustache twitched as though he was smiling. “Oh? And why is that, Mr. Uh?”
I grimaced. I guess I’d hoped he’d give up using that stupid nickname, but I just wasn’t that lucky. “I don’t know how you can stand to have it around. Do you have any idea how people suffered because a few maniacs listened to the instructions in that thing? Condemned as witches. Tortured. Hung. Or worse, burned alive at the stake.” I shuddered and felt a little nauseous as I remembered the greasy meat smell of cooked human flesh.
Grant sat up next to me, rubbing his eyes as if he’d slept too long. “That book is an atrocity. You should get rid of it, Mr. Ambrosius. It’s evil. Something like that book….”
His voice trailed off, but I finished his sentence for him. “It doesn’t deserve to be remembered.”
Merlin cocked one bushy eyebrow. “Do you honestly believe it best to forget those parts of history that are distasteful or painful?”
My first instinct was to say “Hell, yeah!” but I’d learned nothing is easy when it comes to Merlin. I thought about it for a moment. “No.”
He was definitely smiling now under his mustache and beard. I think I may actually have caught a glimpse of teeth. “Why is that, Mr. Uh?”
“Because we don’t dare forget it. We need to remember. That’s how we keep it from happening again.”
Grant nodded. “And that’s how we honor the people who died because of it. They deserve to be remembered.”
“Well, well. What do you know? They can be taught.” Merlin made a gurgling sound that reminded me a little of the sound a garbage disposal makes when you get a spoon stuck in it. I realized he was chuckling.
Merlin can be a little bit on the scary side. “How did you find medieval Germany?” He asked. “I remember it to be quite, er… pungent.”
Grant whistled. “It stank to high heaven. Did you know they didn’t have a sewer system? People and animals just copped a squat wherever they were when they felt the need and—”
Merlin held up a hand. “I remember it well. All of medieval Europe was much the same. It was considered the epitome of bad manners to acknowledge anyone you happened upon who was, er, thusly occupied.”
“You’ve been there?” Grant’s eyes widened, and I felt the same sort of wonder.
“Not since the first time.”
“When was that? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking?” I was curious. So sue me.
Merlin harrumphed. The air pushed past his mustache, making it wiggle. “I just told you—the first time.”
That didn’t tell me squat, but if there was one thing I’d learned about Merlin, it was that pressing him for an answer he didn’t want to give you was pointless. He’d just talk in circles until you got dizzy and quit asking.
Grant’s elbow poked me. “He means he was there the first time the 1500s happened. In the 1500s. He didn’t travel back in time, Ash.”
Oh. Of course. Merlin had been alive since King Arthur’s time, back in the late fifth, early sixth centuries. That was about as immortal as a guy could get. I still didn’t understand how it worked. It was part of his magic, and while magic had rules—like not working until we’d set history back the way we’d found it—it wasn’t easily explained, if at all. It just was.
“Well, you’re done for today, boys. You may go to the cafeteria for lunch.” Merlin waggled his fingers at us, then turned his attention to the Malleus Maleficarum. He spoke again without diverting his gaze from the book. “You may also wish to stop at the infirmary and see about those bruises and that cut on Mr. Uh’s hand. You boys must learn such rough horseplay will always result in injury.” He then began mumbling to himself, carefully flipping pages in the book.
We both knew our presence would no longer be acknowledged. We were invisible, as far as Merlin was concerned.
“Come on. I’m starving!” I led the way out of the classroom. Actually, I just wanted to put as much distance between me and that damn book as possible. I never wanted to lay eyes on it again. “How do you feel? Can you wait until after lunch to see the nurse?”
“Yeah, I’ll live. I guess Irmla was okay, huh?” Grant looked troubled, frown lines puckering his forehead. “She was in pretty rough shape when we were in prison.”
I shrugged. “I hope so. She’d been teaching Brida about medicine. Maybe enough for Brida to help her get well.”
Grant nodded. “They were good people. Wilhelm, Irmla, Brida, and the kids.”
“They were. We met a lot of good people. A few really bad ones too.”
“You don’t have to tell me. You want to know something crazy?”
“What?”
“I sort of want to find out what happened after we left. Did the town burn down? Did they stop persecuting people for witchcraft?”
“We can go to the library after lunch and look it up.”
Grant gave me a mock look of horror. “To the library? Us? Voluntarily? Oh my God—what’s Merlin done to us?”
I snorted and dug my elbow into his ribs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”
He winced. “Ouch! Oh man, I’m still sore from Gunther’s beating.”
“Oops. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He looked up and down the hall. I didn’t know who he was looking for—there was nobody around but us. Then he answered my unasked question when he pulled me in and kissed me.
It was warm and deep and seemed to both go on forever and not nearly long enough. “I’ve needed to do that. We don’t kiss enough. We need to suck face more often.”
“Why is it we either want to kiss or beat each other’s brains in?” I knew I had a goofy smile on my face, but I couldn’t help it. His kisses did that to me.
“I don’t know. I’m new at this boyfriend business.”
Boyfriends? As in boyfriends, or boy friends? I decided he meant the former and felt my goofy grin grow so wide my cheeks hurt. “Yeah, me too.”
We both would’ve liked to stand there and kiss all afternoon, but our stomachs protested that plan loudly. We settled for holding hands on the way to the cafeteria.
Grant gave my hand a squeeze. “So, what’s next on the list of things we need to get back for Merlin?”
“Oh no,” I said. “I don’t even want to think about it. He’ll probably send us back to the freaking Stone Age. I want some time to enjoy indoor plumbing again, thank you very much.”
Grant’s laugh made me want to laugh too, and I was pretty sure nothing had ever felt so good.
Well, nothing except being home, being with him, and being in love.
Because I was really beginning to think that’s what I was feeling. Not that I could tell him that. Oh hell no. There was no way I was going to be the first to use the L word.
Still, I ha
d to wonder if he felt it too. Then, as we walked hand in hand into the cafeteria, not caring who saw us or what they thought of us, I realized he probably did.
And my goofy grin grew wider still.
WE ENDED up in the library after lunch. It felt strange, being in the school library because we wanted to be, and not because we had a fifty-page report due the next morning that we hadn’t even started on yet. Something was missing, and I realized it was the feeling of rising panic and impending doom I usually had when I came here. It was actually sort of liberating.
There was a computer console available, and we pulled up an extra chair and squeezed together inside the tiny partition so we could both see the screen. Grant brought up the search engine and typed in a string of words we hoped would bring us some information on Trier.
“Try adding 1583. That should narrow the results down.”
Grant nodded and typed the four digits into the search bar. A list of articles about the history of Trier came up. He clicked on one that had all of our criteria included.
“It says the trials ended in 1583. We must’ve caught the tail end of it!” Grant turned to me with a huge smile. “The Bauer family probably went off to live their lives peacefully in some other part of Germany. Or maybe they went back to their farm.”
“They must’ve gone back, at least to pick up the rest of the family. Wherever they ended up, I hope they were happy.”
“Yeah, they deserved it after everything they went through.” I nodded toward the monitor. “What about Trier? Did it burn down?”
“I don’t see any mention of it.”
I sighed. “Whew. That’s good to know.”
“Why were you worried? If it wasn’t supposed to burn and it did because of your explosion, we wouldn’t be home right now.”
“I know, but it’s good to see it in black and white. Or rather, not see it.” I gestured toward the monitor again. “What about von Schönenberg, Meier, and Binsfeld? What happened to them?”
“I can’t find a record of Meier. For a baron, I guess he was pretty forgettable.”
