“You said you might not want to be with anyone.”
“What’s the difference? Please, Kafir. It’s the only way I can get home.”
Kafir stared at me for a long moment before turning his gaze out to sea. “Let me think about it. I have some business in town that will take a day or two. Why don’t you spend that time saying your good-byes?”
When Kafir left the boat his suggestion rang in my head. The thought of saying good-bye forever to Tara, Dagmaer, Gisla and Foy made me feel physically ill. The women had babies now, children who would grow to love their Aunt Gertrude. How could I leave them all behind? Brandubh, if he was who I thought he was, would be devastated to have me go, not that I could entertain being anything other than his friend. But we shared the loss of our child, our mutual sorrow a consolation. And Gunnar and Dancer were still out there somewhere. I would miss the stoic druid and the woman who had been my confidant and spiritual advisor for so many months. I moved toward the cabin. Sleep had become my one refuge, the only way out of the pain.
“Gertrude?”
I woke up, my gaze going to Tara standing next to my bunk. When I extricated myself from the bedclothes, Tara’s arms went tight around me. I sobbed into her shoulder for several long moments before pulling away. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying.” I found Kafir’s bandana, using it to mop up my tears.
“I have no words for you, nothing that could even come close to helping. All I can say is how sorry I am. But Kafir said you wish him to take you home. That’s in another time, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s very far from this world.”
“And I will never see you again.”
“No, I suppose you won’t. But Tara, I can’t remain here. It’s just too hard.”
Tara looked me over critically, her hand going to my shoulder. “You’ve lost too much weight,” she said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
“I don’t care. Right now I don’t care about anything.”
“Gertrude, give it some time. You know the adage. You will recover.”
“I’ll never recover from this. Think about losing Lifa; would you ever get over it?”
Tara regarded me out of her liquid eyes. “No, I suppose not. But going back makes no sense. You have friends here, a life. If you remain here we…”
I shook my head, cutting her off. “I have no choice. I have to go.”
The Otherworld-2011
“The boatman is not capable of a trip of this nature. He travels the rivers in his coracle but such a journey into another time would be dangerous and ill-considered.”
“So he knows she’s gone into another time.”
“I thought we’d already established that,” MacCuill answered, gazing at Maeve.
“I guess we had, but I was hoping, you know, that she would find her way back here. I don’t understand the mechanics of what’s happened.”
“The only possibility I can see is following Adair the next time she disappears. Her energy signature will lead us, but we don’t have any way of knowing if Gertrude is living in the place where she goes.”
Maeve turned to watch Airmid playing with Finiche. The wolf treated the little girl like a wolf cub, tumbling her in somersaults and making her laugh. “It sounds dangerous no matter what. I wouldn’t want to be the one that followed the sorceress. Maybe Cernunnos or someone more immune to death?”
MacCuill chuckled. “I knew an old druid years ago. Maybe he’ll turn up at the gathering next month. Gunnar is a time traveler.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Far Isle-2452
Athough not happy about it, Kafir agreed to take me back to Milltown in my timeline of 2010. When we sailed out of Fell I had the strangest feeling that Gypsy was also sad about our venture, thick fog rising around us even though it had been a clear day a moment before. But then again it might have been my own sorrow that I was projecting onto the boat, the fog merely the result of differing temperatures between the ocean water and the air. Tara ended up being the only person I said good-bye to, my heart grieving as she walked away. I explained my reasons for leaving over and over and why I couldn’t face my other friends, but the disappointed expression on her face was still hard to bear.
I stood looking back as the town of Fell grew smaller and smaller, my heart closing down in response. Tears came even though I had told myself that I would not cry. Kafir ignored me, his attention taken out to sea and navigating. When I finally broke the silence he seemed distant and aloof.
“How do you know the way into the past?”
“Gypsy has been there before and will find the way now,” he answered without turning.
“How long will it take?”
Kafir shook his head. “Depends on storms in between the timelines. Could be a week or a month.”
“What kind of food stores do we have on board?” I asked, making idle conversation. My appetite had not returned.
“We have plenty of food, but if it takes longer than a week we’ll have to stop to replenish our water supply. Gertrude, I need to navigate now, this first leg could get tricky.” When he turned, I saw the emotions he was trying to keep at bay, the frown of pain that etched his forehead.
I made my way along the port side, settling in front of the mainmast with my legs stretched out. The day was warm and birds wheeled in the air, circling to see what we might catch or throw overboard. Their cries sounded like upset children, reminding me of the last glimpse I had of my baby. I still couldn’t grasp the idea that he was truly gone. I would never see him again. I closed my eyes against the pain, pressing my back into the mast.
I woke later, realizing that we were coming into a storm. Dark clouds had replaced the sun-filled day and the boat lurched forward and backward in the deep swells.
“You’d better go below!” Kafir shouted, working to reef the mainsail.
I rose to help him, my bare feet slipping on the deck. “What can I do?”
“Take hold of the sheet and help me come about.”
I did as he asked, waiting for further instructions, but once the boom slid past he grabbed the sheet out of my hands, working to trim the sails. Before he got this accomplished there was a sudden gust of wind and the boat heeled to starboard. I was pitched toward the side, my hands reaching to grab something, anything, but I was too late. Suddenly everything slowed down, every little detail so clear. I saw Kafir’s expression of surprise and terror as I went over the side. I registered the places where Gypsy needed to be revarnished. As Gypsy righted herself I noticed barnacles and other tiny creatures clinging to the hull, places where the paint had chipped off. And then everything sped up, the cold taking my breath as I hit the water and sank.
I must have had my eyes open because it was very light under the water, fish swimming by and staring at me curiously. After a moment or two I noticed I could breathe, letting go of the fear of drowning. I didn’t attempt to rise to the surface, allowing my body to sink very slowly toward the bottom where I was met with all sorts of waving frond-like plants and fish of every color. A face appeared, pale and interested, large eyes meeting mine before she swam away. I tried to follow her but I was clumsy in this element. I wondered if I had drowned, because if I had I was happy about it. In this watery grave the pain had finally disappeared. Maybe I could join my baby in the afterlife. These peaceful thoughts were cut short as an arm clamped around my middle. I was hauled quickly to the surface.
“What are you playing at?” Kafir demanded, after coughing and sputtering to catch his breath. “You weren’t doing a thing to help yourself. Odin’s britches, woman, do you want to die?”
I didn’t answer as he dragged me toward Gypsy, his arm around my neck. He had thrown the sea anchor to keep the boat from drifting while he jumped overboard. Leaving the boat was a dangerous act. He pushed me toward a rope ladder hanging over the side. “Go!” he ordered.
I was changing out of my wet clothes when Kafir appeared in the doorway. “Do you have an explanation for y
our behavior?”
“I fell overboard, Kafir. I would hardly call that ‘behavior’.”
“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”
I stared at his furrowed brow, the narrowed worried eyes. “I could breathe under there. I thought maybe I was dead and honestly, it felt better than being alive.”
“You could breathe? What are you talking about?”
“Did I cough when you brought me up? I’m telling you I could breathe. And something else—there was a woman, maybe a mermaid? I don’t know who she was but…”
Kafir pressed his lips together. “Is this like Freyja, the goddess you claimed visited you?”
“Why are you treating me like a child? I know it sounds far-fetched but weirder things have happened in this place.”
Kafir moved into the room making me aware for the first time that it was now the larger version, the sumptuous ‘captain’s cabin’ where we had made love. He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression turned inward. After a moment he turned to me. “If you weren’t hallucinating you may have seen Ran, the goddess of the sea. She lives in the waters around Midgard. Did she beckon to you?”
“No. She only stared for a few seconds. I tried to follow her but she moved too quickly.”
“According to legend, drowning victims are not allowed into Valhalla, instead they are taken into Ran’s realm. She’s also known as the goddess of the dead.”
“Apparently she didn’t want me.” I felt despair again, the hollowness that refused to leave. “When I was down there, I didn’t feel pain.”
“So you thought you’d stay. What about me? Did you think I would leave you in the sea and just sail back to Fell? Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through, or are you too absorbed in your own grief to notice?”
“I know you’re angry.”
“This is more than anger, Gertrude. A child, who I considered my own son, is dead, and the woman I love has decided to go back to a timeline where I can’t live. Your stubbornness has made you deaf to the advice of others, and completely oblivious of anyone but yourself.”
“How can you expect me to see outside the cage of my own pain? I wish it had been me that died instead of Rifak.” I wiped at my tears, feelings flooding into me as I took in the truth of what he’d said. But after what had happened I had to forgive myself.
Kafir moved close, placing an arm gently around my shoulders. “There are two of us in pain here, Gertrude. I may not feel it quite as acutely as you, but it certainly hurts.”
I turned toward him, seeing all of it play across his face as his eyes met mine. Without thinking I pressed my mouth against his, glad when his arms came around me. Our lovemaking was bittersweet and filled with sadness and when it was over our eyes were both filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry, Kafir,” I told him, taking his face in my hands. “I know I’ve hurt you and continue to do so, but I see no other solution. I can’t stay in this timeline.”
He rose without a word, pulling on his trousers and heading toward the door. “You always have a choice,” he said.
***
It was many hours before Kafir appeared again belowdecks. I had prepared some food and tea, reluctant to risk the climb up the ladder. The sea was still rough.
“I’ve set the steering vane,” he told me, grabbing a piece of meat from the plate. “It’s calm now but it won’t be long before we go through the first set of time distortions.” He watched me from under his thick brows, his expression unreadable.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“The reality is much worse than the sound of the words.” He chuckled at his joke, standing to get some tea. “It will feel like the gates of hell have opened up and are swallowing us whole.”
“I have no idea what that feels like, Kafir. Can you be a bit more specific?”
“You’ll feel as though you’ve taken some hallucinogen. Things will overlap as the two eras merge and separate. It’s hard to explain.”
“How soon?”
“I’ll let you know.”
We finished our meal in silence and when it was over Kafir went topsides. I heard him working to reef the sails, his footfalls going back and forth, and then felt the boat lift as we moved forward. “Gypsy, if you care about me at all, please get me home safely,” I muttered.
I cleaned up and stowed everything in anticipation of what was to come, my nerves on high alert. When Kafir yelled down I thought I was prepared, but when the first lurch came I grabbed the first thing I could see, clinging onto the stovepipe with both hands. It burned my palms before I had the sense to let go, landing on the floor as Gypsy lifted, careening from one side to the other. I wanted to call out for help but instead I said a silent prayer to Njord, Freyja, Ran and every other Norse god or goddess I could think of. In the next second I thought the boat was upside down; it was as though the minute before was superimposed over the moment I was in, with two views of the saloon, everything distorted and hazy.
Special effects have nothing on this, I thought to myself as I slid across the floor and then lifted into the air. I was against the ceiling, or was it the floor? I had no idea, only that I felt like throwing up. In the next second the boat spun in a circle, my glance out the porthole showing a whirlpool in which we were the center. I heard Kafir call out but there was no way I could reach him. The boat turned and twisted, the hull groaning from the resistance, making me realize that this venture was dangerous not only to us but to Gypsy as well. She was putting herself at risk to take me home. I was too scared to cry, too limp to do anything but let myself be flung around like a rag doll. When my head slammed into something hard, I slipped into unconsiousness, my last thought a plea to everything holy to help us come through this alive.
“Gertrude! Wake up!”
I heard the voice from afar, my senses coming back slowly. When I opened my eyes Kafir was bent over me, his hand on my forehead.
“We’ve reached 2325.”
I sat up, a dull ache in the back of my head making me dizzy.
“Not so fast. You have a nasty gash on the back of your head.”
“You don’t look too good, yourself,” I commented, taking in his red-rimmed eyes, the cuts and scrapes across his cheek and neck.
“That was rougher than I expected. We’ll have to go in to shore somewhere to repair the damage to the boat.”
“What’s happening in 2325?” I asked, realizing we could be in the middle of a nuclear disaster.
“I won’t kid you, things are not good in this timeline. But they’re better than a few years back. I’m hoping we can skip over the time between now and 2250. Those years were very dark with wars and things blowing up right and left. Most of the cities around the world were on fire for at least part of that seventy-five year period, not to mention the nuclear fallout that blocked the sun in several areas around the globe.”
I sucked in my breath as the image of this presented itself in my mind. “Isn’t there a way to predict where we’re going?”
“Gypsy does the best she can but things can go awry when the timelines tangle.”
“Is that what happened?”
Kafir nodded. “It’s happened before but never as violently as this. If I didn’t know better I’d say that Gypsy is fighting against herself.” Kafir pushed me back, placing a pillow behind my neck. “I’ve cleaned the wound but you should rest while I figure out where to go. I have no idea where land is.” He covered me with a blanket and then went up the ladder.
I rested, falling asleep for a while before I heard Kafir coming down the ladder. “We’re in Glantsgo.”
“Glanstgo? How is that possible?”
“We’ve only moved back in time. Once we reach 2010 we’ll travel in a linear way to get you back to Milltown.”
“Do I dare come out with you?”
“Glantgo is just barely getting started. It’s safe at the moment.”
I followed him up the ladder, surprised to see the ti
ny dock and the lack of boats or activity around the harbor. I scanned the area, finding the building that had housed the auction, but this one was under construction, the freshly cut logs still green. A few people milled about, carrying bundles, but I didn’t see any mercenaries, slaves, or bosses; even the skinny dogs were missing. The atmosphere was very different from my experience in the future.
In town a few buildings had been recently erected, one of them the bar I’d been to in the future, The Black Barrel.
“I could use an ale right about now. How about you?”
I nodded, following him across the street and inside. A few men and women sat at the tables, their eyes studying us warily. They wore different clothing from us, styles that could almost have come from 2010: jeans, plaid shirts, leather boots. I pulled my shawl around my shoulders, trying to look as though I belonged. We stood at the bar drinking from pewter tankards until someone came up behind us.
“You don’t look any younger,” the druid said, his eyes narrowed in amusement.
I stared in surprise. “How…?”
“It’s a druid thing,” Kafir said, slapping Gunnar on the back. “How about some ale?”
“They’re looking for you,” Gunnar said after taking a hefty swallow.
“Who?”
“The people in the place where you were before here—the Otherworld.”
I stared at him in surprise. “You were there?”
Gunnar nodded. “Druid business seems to cross all timelines.”
“Did you see Maeve and Harold?”
He shook his head. “Only MacCuill and the other druids.”
“Did you tell him where I was?”
“I did but I also let him know you were on your way home.”
***
Later when we were back on Gypsy, Gunnar told us that he hadn’t been part of this place in the past and so it wasn’t a paradox for him to meet us here. When I asked for news of Brandubh and the priestesses he shook his head. “I know nothing of what has become of Brandubh. He never showed up in Fell. I hope Loki hasn’t killed him for what he did.”
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