Time of the Picts: A Time Travel Romance (Hadrian's Wall Book 2)

by Jane Stain

  Jaelle waited for an explanation, but when he didn't say anything, she gestured her frustration.

  "After that announcement, you have to tell us why."

  Alasdair nonchalantly sat down on the couch once again, his arms on the back, his ankle crossed over his thigh, and his foot wiggling.

  "I canna tell ye. Jaelle, if Richard has yer helmet — and I hae no doubt what ye tell me is true — then he has gone back there, and he is verra dangerous. With enough ley line energy, the man believes he can become immortal. A great place tae dae that would be in Scotland under the right combination o stars, but he needs tae sacrifice a hero, wuth yer Breth being the obvious choice."

  With Lauren on the phone, Jaelle felt a bit of reassurance. What Alasdair said was so far-fetched, but... She could call Vange, but it had been true, what she said about time travel objects only going to certain places and times and not being resettable by people. John had explained that himself, once upon a time.

  She looked at Alasdair intently.

  "Am I being recruited officially to help stop this Richard person? Is that why John left the helmet here?"

  Alasdair gave her the smallest of smiles.

  "All I can tell ye is that John didna leave that helmet here. If I try tae tell ye a thing more, I am blockit, unable tae even speak."

  They sat there for quite a while, studying the looks on each other's faces. Jaelle thought Alasdair looked sincere. And determined.

  Alasdair gave her his sternest gaze.

  "Ye be willing tae let me get ye back tae the time o the Picts?"

  Jaelle raised her chin and sat as a warrior, resolute and ready.

  "Yes."

  He nodded the slightest.

  “Hae ye nothing suitable tae wear?”

  She went to her closet and got out the dress she had made while cooling her heels that week she had to work for the museum. It wasn't complicated, just a simple knee-length sheath dress with a slit up the back so that she could move easily — but it was hand-stitched and made from homespun linen, which had cost her half a week's wages. Unfortunately, she didn't have any suitable shoes. Oh well.

  He looked impressed when she came out.

  "Verra well, come closer. Sit right next tae me sae our sides touch."

  While his mere presence had raised the hairs in the nape of her neck, sitting next to him like this made her shake and quiver involuntarily.

  If he noticed, he didn't say anything, just took her hand in his. It wasn't a gentle hand hold, the kind a friend or lover would give you. No. It was… It was as if he held the control lever on some sort of machine.

  Disturbed, Jaelle drew her hand away.

  He let go immediately.

  "This has tae be a voluntary thing on yer part, Jaelle, or I willna dae it."

  She still was shaking and trembling, quavering with the creepy vibes that came off him. Nevertheless, she was going through with this. She would get back to Breth.

  "I am in this voluntarily, it's just that… My instincts are telling me I shouldn't."

  He nodded.

  "Ye hae good instincts."

  He just left it at that, and they sat there in silence, the only sound her grandmother's clock, ticking away on the mantle.

  She gave his side a nudge with her elbow.

  "Well?"

  Alasdair chuckled, a good-natured chuckle.

  "Ye hae spunk."

  And then, his presence was inside her mind. Just how much of her thoughts could he see? Her memories?

  "I could,” said his voice inside her mind, disembodied. “But it would be an evil thing for me to do, and if I can help it, I don't like to do evil things."

  If he could help it! When wouldn't he be able to help it? What have I gotten myself into?

  Jaelle’s instincts told her to wake up now, snap out of this trance she was in so that Alasdair could connect to her thoughts. But no. She needed to get back to Breth. This was going to help, she knew it was. Somehow, she knew the druid was sincere about that. He meant to get her back to see Breth. She knew he did have ulterior motives concerning Richard, but he would get her back to Breth.

  Richard was another story. She did not trust him at all, and she be glad to help stop him, whatever he was trying to do.

  She didn’t see Alasdair here in her dream state the way she saw Kelsey in a dream, walking around and floating them up on top of staircases and through walls as if they were in a movie. No, with Alasdair it was more like he was another presence right there in her very mind. It wasn't visual at all, but of course she still knew he was here.

  She could not read his thoughts at all, though. She only heard what he deliberately said to her.

  He had been keeping silent while she ruminated and got used to him being here, but now his little thought bubble inside her head spoke up again.

  "We all have obligations outside our control, or that we’ve agreed on. I say this by way of explaining why there are sometimes circumstances where I can't help the evil practice of reading someone's thoughts against their will."

  What? Obligations? What is he talking about?

  Jaelle’s instincts were kicking into high gear now, telling her she should snap out of it and get away from this lunatic before her sanity was at stake. A sense of panic pervaded her mind — except in the small corner where Alasdair's presence loomed. Oddly, that small corner of her mind was calm.

  "Of course you have such obligations, Jaelle. You have an employer, after all. You can't tell me they never give you directions you don't wish to follow?"

  Jaelle concentrated. Instead of thinking to herself, she deliberately answered Alasdair's question, directing a thought to him.

  "It's not the same thing at all. I don’t do anything evil at the museum’s direction, just sell our souvenirs to the tourists by making suggestions along the way during the tour. It’s distasteful, sure, but it isn't evil."

  Alasdair's little corner of her mind was still calm.

  "Isn't it? Through your power of suggestion, you cause them to spend money they didn't intend on spending."

  Jaelle could feel the warrior instincts kicking in. Alasdair was attacking her, maybe only on the psychological level, but attacking nonetheless. And so her instincts shifted from ‘run away’ to ‘turn and face your attacker. Keep your eye on him.’ It occurred to her that perhaps this was his intent.

  He seemed amused at this last thought.

  "No, I was just answering your question. I find that if I answer all the objections raised to my presence in a mind, the mind calms itself, and we can get to the business at hand."

  "Oh."

  "Is it working?"

  "Yes, I suppose it is. Discussing it with you like this is much more comfortable than wondering why you’re here. I guess I'm getting used to it. I suppose that's a good thing, and yes I would like to get to the business at hand."

  "Very well then, picture the helmet in your mind. Remember all the details you can — inside and out."

  "That's easy,” she thought to him, doing as he asked. “I spent a lot of time studying it to show Kelsey, hoping she could tell me what the runes inside say. Hey, can you? Here are the runes inside."

  "I can read the runes, but I cannot tell you what they say. I am restricted by the same sort of directives your employer gives you, but whereas you are selling things to tourists, I am teaching things to people — or not. Understand?"

  "Yes. I'm surprised to, but I do understand."

  "Good. All right, keep that helmet in your mind as vividly as you can, and yes, turning it every which way helps immensely. Keep doing that. Concentrate on it. Also, if you can bring to mind how it feels on your head, how heavy it is, what it smells like, the sounds when things hit it. Give me the idea the helmet is on your head right now."

  She did, but this took so much concentration that she forgot to speak with him in her mind and instead just had random thoughts again, vaguely aware that these were the type of thoughts that her mouth would go off wit
h when she was awake.

  How is this going to help? How long will it take? How much time has passed? An hour here is eight hours where Breth is!

  "The connection between an item, an era, and a location can be copied. An item can also be copied, and if the dream walker is powerful enough, he can copy it from the image in your mind."

  I need to wake up.

  "Are we done?"

  "Wake up, lass, and see for yerself."

  She couldn't believe her eyes. She rubbed them just to make sure they were actually open and this wasn't a dream. She even did the old cliché thing and pinched herself, and then had to believe her eyes. Wow.

  Alasdair was sitting next to her on the couch, and on his head was a perfect reproduction of John's helmet.

  As usual, before she could form a coherent thought about a new discovery or surprise, her mouth spouted off about it, telling everyone in the room — which was just Alasdair — but also Lauren on the phone what she was thinking.

  "You’re gonna steal my idea of the helmet from me just like Richard and go off to Breth’s time without me, aren't you?"

  Looking much more warlike with the helmet on his head, even though his hair was gray and his face was wrinkled and his hands were gnarled, Alasdair shook his head no with sadness in his eyes as he sat there next to her on the couch.

  "No, no I'm going tae take ye with me."

  He put his hands on her upper arms and touched his forehead to hers through the helmet.

  "Hold still. This is gae’na take concentration on my part."

  It was such a relief to have him out of her mind and to have come to her own senses that she didn't mind at all this holding still and letting him do whatever it was he was doing.

  "What's going on?" Lauren said in her ear.

  "I'm not sure, but I’m okay."

  “Well that's good at least."

  "Hush, ye" said Alasdair. "This is difficult enough without ye distracting me with talking."

  "What is he doing?" Lauren hissed in Jaelle's ear.

  "I'm making a copy o the helmet for Jaelle tae wear. Now be quiet."

  Feeling like a disobedient kid in school and kind of liking the sensation, Jaelle tapped the phone as surreptitiously as she could and turned it on video chat, training the camera on Alasdair in the helmet.

  Lauren gasped, but to her credit she kept quiet.

  Before long at all, Jaelle could feel a copy of the helmet forming around her own head. It felt exactly like the original, and if Alasdair's was any indication, it looked just like the original too. She was really going to get to go back and see Breth!

  Chapter 24

  Drest saw Ragan cringing as she lay naked on the hilltop hidden in the trees while he had sex with Ida. Well, that was just too bad for her. She hadn’t been promised anything.

  Ragan felt the tears streaming down her face, felt her nose running, and didn’t wipe her face. What did it matter what she looked like? No wonder Drest hadn't married her. He had no intention of being only with her. Not five hundred breaths ago, Drest had lain with Ragan, and she had thought Ida was only along to wait on them.

  How foolish I've been, leaving my clan for this stranger.

  He had seemed so exotic and different and interesting. Well, he was all of those things, but he was not much more. Drest was not half the man her father was, nor her brothers, nor any man in her clan, nor in these other clans. He was selfish and dishonorable.

  I wish I were back home!

  How pathetic and whiney she sounded. She took a deep breath, let it out, and finally wiped her stupid girlish tears away with the back of her hand.

  You are a grown woman, Regan, not a mewling child.

  Pushing her hurt feelings aside, she tried to think. What should she do? She was far away from her people, and she was not a warrior. There was no way she could make it home on her own.

  When next she looked over and saw how ardent he was with this other woman, Regan had the urge to take Drest's knife out of his scabbard and plunge it first into his back and then into Ida's, warrior or not. It would serve them both right. Indeed, she was reaching for the knife when she heard many feet approaching.

  She quickly dressed before the footsteps reached the top of the hill, smugly not pointing out their approach to Drest and Ida. Let the two of them be found naked and in the middle of their… pleasures.

  It was a bunch of Gaels who came.

  Ragan held Drest's knife in front of her defensively, looking through the trees for an avenue of escape that didn't take her past the skirted men. But they had surrounded her and Drest and Ida, who now gasped and would have screamed in fear if Drest hadn't put his hand over her mouth.

  Foolish, foolish, foolish girl! You left your family, your whole clan, for this bag of scrum who is now going to get you killed!

  Rather than be killed or worse by one of the Gaels, Ragan turned the knife the other way in her hand.

  But one of the Gaels got to her before she was able to do herself in. He grabbed the knife away from her and gave her a look that said she was a foolish girl indeed. Far from harming her, he looked sympathetic, and aside from taking the knife away, he kept a respectful distance between them. She didn't speak his language, yet the two understood each other.

  She gave the Gael a look and gestures that said 'Yes, I know I'm a foolish girl. Look what my man is doing with another woman. I would rather run off with you, quite frankly, than stay here a moment longer.’ But that was not to be.

  Drest pulled out of the, ahem, situation he was in and got to his feet, completely ignoring Ida, who was staring fearfully at the Gaels.

  While Drest spoke to them in their Gaelic language, Ragan took Ida's clothes to her and helped her put them on, speaking softly to her.

  "You're welcome to have him, if you still want him after this."

  "Are you kidding?"

  The two held each other, shaking with fear as they watched Drest with the Gaels, half expecting him to offer the two of them up as one would offer food at a gathering.

  Drest fumed at the Gaels. Couldn’t they see he was busy?

  “You are na getting any more money from me. Now get oot o my sight.”

  “Are na we gang tae gae after the Romans together?”

  Drest heaved a sigh.

  “Aye, we are, howsoever, that time is far off. For now, leave. I wull send word when ye are needit.”

  It was a near thing, but the Gaels left without killing any of them. At least that was something for which Ragan could be thankful.

  Chapter 25

  Alasdair backed away and gave Jaelle a bolstering smile.

  She smiled back, excited.

  "Shall we go?"

  But he looked significantly at her feet.

  She followed his gaze down to them, looked back up at him, and angrily shook her head.

  "You have a wayward druid to stop, and I have a mad warrior to stop, and you're worried about my footwear?"

  He laughed. Again it was a good-natured laugh, but it was at her expense.

  "I willna hae ye slowing me. Nae, dinna fash. There be a simple fix, but it wull involve ye lifting that dress up."

  "What?" trilled Lauren.

  Jaelle had been sure she could trust this man, but this last comment raised more than just the hairs on the back of her neck. She pulled away.

  But he was laughing again, that disarming good natured laugh.

  "Nae for thon reason, ye ninny. Sae thon I can fix the woad and guarantee yer feet dinna get cut. Tae bad I didna ken ye lacked shoes afore I made the helmet, but we wull work aroond thon gaff."

  Slowly, Jaelle relaxed again.

  "You can do that? Fix the woad, I mean?"

  He lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows, putting his hands on his hips in a look of mock indignation. For an old guy, he was quite the communicator.

  Well I guess that makes sense, him being a professor and all.

  He began in his lecturing tone, raising one eyebrow at her
and turning his head slightly to the side.

  "One doesna become a druid as auld as I am withoot thon I ken aw the tricks o' oor trade."

  She put on a skeptical look of her own, calling his bluff. Hm, maybe his pride could be used to her advantage here.

  "All the tricks of your trade? Time travel, dream walking, premonition, woad warrior armor, and ... ?"

  His smile was meant to be sheepish, but she knew he was mocking her again. He was far too good a communicator, reading her intentions right into her words and body language.

  "Now, now, Miss Penzag. Ye ken as a warrior that it isna in my best interest tae reveal moves I hae na yet displayed. Nay, not even tae allies, for alliances dinna last."

  She gulped and pointed her finger back and forth between the two of them.

  "How long does this alliance last?"

  He gestured for her to take off the dress. There was nothing lewd in the gesture at all, just a matter-of-fact look such as a tailor might wear when appraising how a garment looked on her – though she knew he was appraising the woad, not the dress.

  Bare underneath except for the woad, she raised the dress up so it bunched under her chin, which she also raised in proud defiance. Even though she did feel slightly… okay, greatly, uncomfortable, she had said she would do anything to get back to Breth.

  Because she already had a magic helmet on her head but had not yet been transported back to Breth's time, it was plain that Alasdair controlled his copy of the helmet. That made sense, and so she was at his mercy and figured she might as well get this done as quickly as possible.

  To her surprise, rather than take out a pot of the woad clay and reapply it, Alasdair simply whet his fingers with his saliva and used the smeared woad already on her to touch up areas that weren't so smeared, until she had quite a few intact designs on her body.

  The whole time he did this, his eyes were focused in deep concentration, which allowed her to study him.

  Alasdair had clearly never been a warrior. He didn't have the muscles. No, he had been a lecturer and a druid most of his adult life. He didn't get outside much. His face wasn't as wrinkled as she would've expected, based on how gnarled his hands were. Arthritis, she guessed.