“That was miles ago! You should have told me!” she hissed.
“There was no need for you to know!” he snapped back.
She ran her hands through his thick black hair, in part to continue the rouse, yet also to convey her frustration. He uttered a low growl in warning before he shoved her away. Stumbling backward a few paces before she regained her footing, she watched as Winn crouched into a defensive stance to face the two men who approached them.
The men were not strangers.
One stepped forward, knife raised.
“Kweshkwesh. You slither like a snake to follow us. Why?” Winn said, his words tempered with restraint. Maggie kept her eyes on them as they squared off, the two men circling as if bound in a creeping dance, each poised to strike.
Kweshkwesh glanced at her, his eyes dark orbs seared into the twisted mask of his face. She remembered him well, the sneaky warrior who had once stolen her from her husband. A scalp lock braid ran down the back of his neck, his skin a mesh of pox marked scars, and she could see him tremor as he confronted Winn.
As well he should. Her husband had spared his life on one occasion, and she was certain Winn would show no such mercy a second time. She ran her thumb over the butt of the knife tucked in her waistband as she watched them, noticing the second man observing as well. She knew enough of the Powhatan ways to understand the test of honor before her. Kweshkwesh had been deeply shamed in front of the entire village when Winn refused to take his life nearly a year ago. It was a matter that would be settled now by blood.
“You know why. I will have the head of your Time Walker,” Kweshkwesh said, his eyes shifting back to Winn.
Winn straightened from his crouch, extending the knife he held out toward Kweshkwesh, pointing it with precision at the other man’s heart.
“I regret I spared your life once before. Come here, little warrior,” Winn taunted him, waving to him as if in welcome. “I will end your suffering today.”
They crashed together with a slew of slurred Powhatan curses, Winn taking the upper hand almost immediately. The muscles flexed across his broad back as he wrestled Kweshkwesh to the ground, and although Winn was built much thicker than his opponent, Kweshkwesh was still a formidable fighter and used his wiry strength to twist from Winn’s grasp. Winn fell forward onto one knee and scrambled to rise.
Kweshkwesh lurched for Winn with his knife and the men crossed paths again. Maggie let out a cry as she watched the blade slice across Winn’s chest and he kneeled down onto the sandy soil facing away from her. Back to back, both warriors paused, the sounds of their ragged breathing filling the dank humid air.
Kweshkwesh straightened upright in front of Maggie, his mouth contorted in a bizarre grin. He took a step toward her, then wavered, his gait unsteady, and raised a hand to his throat as his eyes widened. His words came forth garbled and wet, as were his hands, drenched in pulsing blood.
“Elek?” he choked.
He plummeted forward onto the ground with a sickening thud.
Winn turned toward her, rising up from his crouch, his chest smeared with crimson blood.
“Winn!” she cried.
He looked beyond her, his crystal blue eyes narrowed into slits, as if she neither stood there nor spoke to him, focused on something else to her left. She had no time to consider what he was looking at, too worried about the second warrior that now moved in to attack her husband.
“No!” she screamed.
Her skin prickled as she heard footsteps crush the forest debris near her flank, and before she could turn she felt a whoosh of air ripple her hair as something flew by from behind her ear. She choked on her own scream as the second man fell, taken down by a long-handled axe impaled in his sternum.
Winn reached her side, and she fell into his arms as they stared at the fallen warrior.
“Bloody Indians!”
They looked toward the brush as a man strode toward them. Of equal height to Winn and just as threatening in his demeanor, he parted a new path, stomping on the undergrowth and breaking through low growing branches as if they were twigs. Eyes of a berserker glared at them from a dense bearded face, the thick muscled arms flexed at the sides of a broad chest as his skin dappled with droplets of sweat.
He placed a foot on the body then closed his hands over the axe handle, jerking it away with one quick motion. Maggie could only watch, stunned as he sheathed the weapon on his back, and Winn pulled her to her feet.
“I can see nothing’s changed. Ye still find trouble, no matter where you go, hmm, Maggie-mae?”
She flew into his arms.
“Marcus! How? Why? Oh!” she cried as he closed his arms around her. He lifted her off the ground, squeezing her so hard she laughed through the fresh burst of tears. She touched his face, covered with at least a few weeks worth of beard. “I didn’t recognize you with this thing! You’re here, you’re really here!”
“Aye, lamb, s’all right now, don’t cry,” he said. “Ye were tricky to find, and worse to follow. Did ye know those men tracked you for miles?” he added, directing his question over her shoulder to her husband. She stepped away from Marcus and grabbed Winn’s hand.
“Yes, I knew,” Winn muttered.
“Winn, it’s Marcus! I can’t believe it, he’s…he’s…here.” Winn was tense at her side, glaring at Marcus. Maggie felt as if she faded away at that moment, watching the two men locked in a silent battle as they stared each other down.
She squeezed Winn’s hand. He nodded at Marcus.
“Time Walker,” Winn said.
Marcus grunted some sort of acknowledgment.
“Winkeohkwet,” Marcus replied.
Her eyes darted between the two men, her words jumbled as they poured forth amidst her rising confusion.
“Wait a second! You…you used a Bloodstone? Why? How? What are you doing here, Marcus?” she asked.
He shifted his stare to Maggie and sighed, running one hand through his thick black hair and then down to rub his beard. Maggie had never seen him with facial hair, the unkempt growth giving him a menacing demeanor despite her knowledge of his gentle nature. Standing before her with two wide leather straps crossing his chest and his muscles tensed in readiness to strike, she hardly recognized the man she had known her entire life.
“Aye, I have a lot to tell you, but most of it can wait for now. I’ve been to this place before, and God knows I never thought to see it again so soon. First off, I came for my son.”
Winn’s eyes narrowed.
“Benjamin returned to his time. That was more than two years ago,” Winn answered.
“No, he’s still here,” Marcus insisted.
“But he went back. He used his Bloodstone, I saw him leave,” Maggie replied.
Marcus shook his head. “He never made it. Last trail I could find of him was a record of his release from jail at Jamestown. Seems no witnesses survived the massacre, so there was no one to speak against him. Did he really murder two men, Maggie? Can ye tell me nothing else about it?”
She glanced back at Winn, who remained immobile. As much as revisiting the past pained them both, she could not stand in front of Marcus and withhold it from him. He deserved to know what happened to his son. By right of blood and sacrifice of his journey, she could give him nothing less. After all, Benjamin had once been her husband, and despite what he had done she still believed there was something redeemable in him.
“If he was held at Jamestown, then something went wrong with the Bloodstone. I last saw him at Martin’s Hundred on the day of the Massacre…in the church,” she placed her hand on his arm. “I have so much to tell you, too, Marcus, things I couldn’t put in the letter. I think we should go home, and–and you’ll come with us, won’t you?”
He placed his hand over hers.
“I didn’t hunt ye down through time for the hell of it, for sure. Of course I’ll go with you. Can’t leave ye alone with all these angry Indians about, can I?” he replied, raising a brow with a glance at
Winn. Winn nodded in response but said nothing more.
“Marcus–”
“I’ll get my horse.”
Marcus went back the way he came, leaving her standing there with Winn. She watched Marcus go through the underbrush, afraid he would disappear like a wisp of a memory once he left her sight.
Winn led her pony close and gave her a leg up. He rested his hand on her thigh for a moment as she gathered her reins, and she looked down at him. The shallow wound on his chest was no more than a scratch, the bleeding crusted already across the flesh. Thankfully, it would need no stitches.
“What about–about them?” she asked, nodding toward the two fallen men. Bile burned in her throat as she glanced at the deceased and she turned away lest she vomit.
“Leave them. Let the scavengers feast.”
She swallowed back against her dry mouth at his words, yet nodded in agreement all the same.
“And Marcus?”
“Let him return with us, if it pleases you, ntehem.”
“I can’t believe he’s here. You’re going to like him, you’ll see,” she promised. She could read the uncertainty etched into his face. It was a rare thing to see him rattled, yet she had a feeling it was not the last time the two men would rankle each other.
“Did you know he was a Time Walker?” he asked. She shook her head.
“My arrival here was an accident, I didn’t know anything about how to use the Bloodstones. What difference does it make, anyway? I’m happy to see him no matter how he got here.”
He gave her leg a gentle squeeze.
“He is right in one way, ntehem. Trouble follows you,” he sighed. “It is good that I have two sharp eyes to watch you with. If I knew Blooded Ones would come for you, I would have dropped all the Bloodstones in the ocean so no other could use them.”
“He won’t be any trouble, I’m sure of it,” she replied. Filled with the excitement of seeing Marcus, she had failed to consider how his arrival would affect her husband. As Winn stood looking up at her, she suddenly suspected what drove him to deny her happiness.
She twisted her fingers in her pony’s mane and bent down, planting a firm kiss upon his tense mouth.
“I love you, warrior. My place is here with you, no matter what happens,” she whispered. His hand slid up around the base of her neck and his fingers gripped her hair as he pressed his forehead to hers.
“I know,” he replied.
Marcus rode into the clearing and they quickly separated. Winn nodded to the other man, then pointed the way toward home. Seeming pleased with the interlude, the horses set off at a brisk pace, and Maggie knew she would see her family soon. After seeing the way a simple trade visit to the Chosick village had turned out, she would be happy to see the day end.
They reached the settlement by nightfall, the glimmer of the sleepy sun fading as their temporary home came into view. A cottage marked the center of the settlement, made of rough hewn logs. It was flanked by the lean-to and peaked yehakins in a semi-circle around the water well. Winn issued a shrill greeting to announce them, and Maggie waved as his sister came into sight.
When Teyas entered the yard with the squirming toddler in her arms, Maggie urged her pony into a lope and left the men behind. It had only been one day, yet anytime away from her daughter left her uneasy. There were just too many things that could go wrong in the time they lived in.
Maggie’s pony slid into a stop and she leapt off his back, covering the distance to her daughter in a few short strides. Winn’s sister smiled as she handed the child over, her two black braids bouncing as she laughed.
“Take her, she’s a pest!” Teyas teased, flicking her braids back over her shoulder. She squinted her brown eyes at Kwetii in mock disgust, and Maggie pecked the cheek of her sister-by-marriage as she pulled her daughter into her arms.
“Mama!” she child squealed, erupting into a fit of giggles when Maggie planted kisses over her face.
“A pest? Causing your Auntie trouble, hmm? Not my daughter!”
“Oh, no? She has not stopped howling since you left!” Teyas snorted. “Humph!”
“Is your Aunt a meany, Kwetii?” Maggie asked, holding the child up over her head. It seemed she recognized her name by the way she squealed, or it may have been the sight of her father walking toward her, yet whatever the reason Maggie was soon forgotten. The fickle child reached out to Winn and he swept her into his arms.
Marcus stood away a few paces away observing quietly with wide eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. Soon they would sit to talk, and all their questions would be answered. Even without Marcus admitting he had visited their time once before, she would have known it was so by the sheer level of comfort he displayed in his surroundings. Although he stood away from the family as they greeted each other, his behavior lent no lack of confidence. Apparently, he had arrived in her time well prepared and rapidly found a way to procure supplies like weapons and horses.
No, Marcus had not idly traveled to the past on a whim. He was apparently a powerful Blooded One, a full blown Time Walker, and furthermore, he had hid it from her during her entire life. As she watched him gazing patiently at her family, she dismissed the itch of betrayal she felt.
There must be some explanation. Once the baby was settled and there was food in their bellies, they would sit, and it would all be said.
“Marcus,” she called, waving him over. “Come meet Kwetii.”
“Pa-pa! Uppy, uppy!” Kwetii squealed. Maggie smiled as Winn tossed their daughter into the air and the child flailed, shrieking with laughter. The crop of dark waves on her head bounced against her caramel skin as she laughed, her chubby fingers gripping Winn’s hands. So alike, yet so different, father and daughter were a pair that would not be separated. Maggie knew her daughter loved her, but when her father was present, everyone seemed to disappear. Maggie didn’t mind so much. She was content to see the fierceness fade from her warrior as he looked down at their daughter with tenderness in his eyes.
“She’s beautiful, Maggie,” Marcus said softly.
“She is,” Maggie agreed.
“Kwetii,” Winn said, adjusting the toddler in his arms. “See this man? He is Marcus, friend to us.”
Maggie did not miss the inflection in his tone with the words. She appreciated the effort he made to subdue his suspicion, yet she imagined he would have much more to say on the matter when they retired to their furs.
“Little one,” Marcus said. “You look like yer mother, she was a pretty child as well,” he murmured.
Maggie felt the trickle of unease flow stronger. He knew that Kwetii meant little one in Winn’s language? She could see Winn picked up on it as well by the way his arms tensed around their daughter.
“Ooh, pretty, pretty!” Kwetii squealed, pointing at the sky with one chubby hand. Maggie raised her chin to see what her daughter fussed over.
Streaking across the night sky, leaving a crisscross of shimmering trails behind, bursts of light streamed overhead in a path toward the earth.
A meteor shower.
Winn handed Kwetii to her. Seeing the realization rise in his eyes, the way his jaw clamped shut and his skin flushed to the tips of his ears, she knew he remembered it too. She saw his hand shift to his side to rest on the butt of his knife as the words of an old prophecy rushed into her thoughts.
“A night when stars fall from the sky,” the old woman said. “That is when he will return.”
“Pale Feather?” she whispered, more to herself than the others.
Marcus frowned.
“It’s been a long time since anyone called me that, but, aye. I was once called Pale Feather. This one comes from the Paspahegh, right?” Marcus said, nodding toward Winn. “I thought the English wiped them all out.”
She thought Winn would explode. His voice finally surfaced as a growl through his clenched teeth.
“Not all of us, Time Walker. Go to the cabin, Maggie. Now.”
Maggie could count the number of times s
he obeyed her husband without argument, and they were not numerous enough to take up the fingers of even one hand. Yet seeing Winn standing there with Marcus, the sky exploding overhead in a shower of falling meteors, she turned without hesitation and went into the house. Teyas followed close behind.
The men needed no further interruption. Winn and his father had much to talk about.
CHAPTER 2
Maggie
There was a fire burning in the stone hearth, the scent of stew carried through the cottage by wisps of smoke. The small house was cozy yet afforded them enough space, serving their little family as the traditional community Long House would in the Paspahegh village. As an abandoned remnant from an English settler, it had not been difficult to procure the head rights to the property. Of the settlers who survived the Massacre of 1622, many had left their property and either moved close to Jamestown for protection or left the colony on the next ship back to England.
When Maggie and Winn expressed interest in the unoccupied piece of land, the Governor readily agreed. As long as Winn helped the English negotiate the return of prisoners, the English were content to allow their little family to live in peace. Winn thought it safest for them to live between two worlds, beholden entirely to neither the Indians nor the English. She agreed with him in that respect; although Opechancanough had given them the promise of safe passage, she was still a Time Walker, and there was still a price on her head.
“Did you cause so much trouble in your future life, sister?” Teyas asked.
Teyas handed her a sticky mug of steaming blackberry tea as Maggie sat down heavily on a bench. Kwetii climbed down from her lap and toddled off toward the hearth, where she plopped down to play with a discarded doll.
“He’s Winn’s father. Marcus, I mean. Marcus is Winn’s father.”
She spoke the words, yet still the meaning was impossible. Marcus, who had been kin to Maggie as long as she could remember, was the man who formed one cornerstone of the tiny family unit she grew up with–in the twenty-first century.
Maggie looked through the window at them. The image was blurred through the rough-hewn glass, but she could still see the two men standing together. Head to head, shoulder to shoulder, suddenly she could see the resemblance, and she wondered if she might have noticed it earlier had she not been so blind. She should have known her journey to the past was no isolated incident, that some greater power linked her and the people she loved to this time. Now she knew with a growing sense of unease that it was much more complicated than some simple episode of chance.
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