The Long Chron

by Adam Oster

  “I’m not quite certain why you harbor such animosity toward me,” The Wizard states calmly. “However, I do believe I see some tools that we might be able to use to break these bonds just over there,” he says as he pulls us along behind him once again.

  On the ground nearby, sitting on a scaffold, is a tool that looks something like a pick. The Wizard lifts it and bounces it in his hands a few times, testing its weight, before finally placing his other hand on the ground, Griff’s beside it. He brings the pick into the air above him.

  “What the hell?” Griff screams as the pick flies down at his left hand.

  Chink, The Wizard jumps up, grins at us, and then bolts off.

  “What the hell?” Griff repeats.

  “Griff, the pendant!” I scream, running after The Wizard, but being held back by my slow-to-respond partner. “Come on!”

  “Shit!” Griff screams as he realizes the issue, gets back to his feet, and we awkwardly sprint after the man.

  “We can’t let him leave with the pendant. Who knows what trouble he’ll be able to cause now that he knows what it can do?”

  “I think we already know that, Chelle,” Griff says, stopping in place as it become clear that we’ve lost him.

  “But that’s even more reason for us to go after him,” I yell, pulling to get him to continue moving forward, the metal shackle digging against my skin.

  “Stop,” Griff says dejectedly. “He’s gone. Let’s just go get ourselves disconnected.”

  “But,” I stammer, “but, we could—“

  “No, we can’t. Everything that happened has already been done.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’m saying, it already happened, right? The whole Wizard takes over the city of York thing? We can’t really change that, can we?”

  “Can’t we?”

  “I don’t think so, kid. After all, we are the reason he’s alive to live another day, right? If we hadn’t come back in time with a dead version of him at our feet, he would have just died in that dungeon like normal, right? I think this was all supposed to happen.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like confusing time travel talk to me,” I say with a grim smirk.

  “Hey, I may not understand what’s going on with all of this, but I can say one thing. I’ve already killed the guy once. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for me to do it again. Now, let’s work on getting these handcuffs off and figure out a way to get back home.”

  “But—“

  “No buts, kid. Come on.”

  He effortlessly pulls me back in the direction of the pick, I argue the entire way.

  Almost in a daze, I allow Griff to place my hand on the ground as he swings the pick at it wildly. I am only vaguely aware that he misses three times, narrowing avoiding my own hand, before finally making contact with the metal chain holding us together. I awake to the chink as my hand feels freed.

  I instinctually rub at my wrist, noticing that the band of the bond is still wrapped around me. I look to Griff, “So, what are we gonna do about the cuff? You finally going to teach me your trick for breaking out of them?”

  “Sorry kid, the only way you’re going to be able to do that on these things is to break your wrists. They ain’t got the give of your standard handcuffs. And no lock neither. I’m guessing they didn’t think they’d have to worry about being gentle when they removed them from our crispy bodies.”

  “But The Wizard—“

  “Musta’ broke his wrist, kid. Only answer I’ve got.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to do something about them. I can’t imagine we’re going to get too far without people noticing.”

  “That depends,” Griff states as he looks to the scenery around him, “on whether they had handcuffs like this back in time so far.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you notice? They’re still building that church. It was looking pretty old when we first came around here. We could be over a hundred years before Uthyr is even born.”

  “I’d be willing to guess they still know prisoner’s bonds,” I answer. “But that is a good question. This place doesn’t look like it’s been around for too long at all. We could be hundreds and hundreds of years in the past from where we just were.”

  “Seems like we keep going back in time every time we use that stupid time piece of yours,” Griff scowls. “I’m beginning to think it’s probably not the way to get back to our time.”

  “Or maybe we’re just using it wrong to get to the future?”

  “Either way, I’m not sure I want to go back in time any further. Let’s keep from using it until we figure out what we’re doing wrong.”

  I open the clasp on the pendant around my neck and see that the clock has begun working again and the clock face is pulled out of its holding area, apparently reset for travel once again. “Okay, but just so you know, it looks like that trip reset our sphere.”

  “Cool. Just don’t let that Wizard freak know that. I’d hate to have to deal with him any further if we don’t need to. I’m starved. What do you think the gruel situation around here is?”

  “You and your stupid gruel,” I scoff. He doesn’t hear me. He’s already sniffing the air as he walks away. I decide I had better follow and not lose him.

  Chapter 39

  Even with the constant sounds of construction, the city seems quiet. It’s weird. This place looks like it’s been around for a while, like, for centuries, if not longer. However, there seems to have been a sudden decision to build quickly, as though someone recently found a bunch of cash or something.

  I wander the city streets with Griff, which are now mostly dirt, instead of the cobblestone pathways they’ll become, and think of how different everything looks, while still being basically the same. It’s a disorienting experience to notice the roads take the same basic paths as they do whenever Uthyr takes charge around here, but the buildings themselves are almost non-existent. There are a few shanties around, presumably housing for the peasants that have been brought in to build. I’m guessing if we were to get closer to the castle area, which isn’t quite visible from here due to the proliferation of considerably sized foliage, we would find the people with money who are the reason for this sudden surge in construction.

  Griff suddenly cuts off to the left, through a collection of ratty looking tents. I chase after him to find a group of men huddled around a fire, on which a pot is bubbling fiercely.

  “Hey chaps,” Griff says as he rubs his hands together eagerly, “what’s for dinner?”

  The men all sit up rigidly at Griff’s arrival.

  “Oh, um, welcome, sir, um, lord. We’s just making some carrot stew,” says the man who’s currently stirring the stew that might be food.

  “Sounds bland,” I mutter.

  Griff slaps me happily on the back, “Oh, come on kid. Sure, it’s no gruel, but I’m betting it’s amazing. Mind if we join in, gents?”

  “Um, no sir,” the same man from before says. “Here, have my seat.” The man stands and lifts the small wooden stump he had been using as a chair, pointing it in Griff’s direction.

  “Oh, nonsense, my good man, you’re the chef, the seat is yours. I feel like I’ve been bound to that chair’s descendant for too long today already.”

  The men shift uneasily in their seats.

  “Um, Griff,” I say, pulling him to the side. “I think that you and I might be dressed a little too nicely for dining with these men.”

  “What?” Griff questions. Then, looking down at his own clothes, he responds by turning to the men and continuing his conversation. “So, what do you think of the duds? Found them outside one of the houses up on the hill. Pulled it right out from a fire. Guess they decided this wasn’t in fashion anymore.” He gestures to the areas that had holes burned in them from our earlier bout with the stake.

  “I can’ts say I’s ever seen much like that kinda dress before, myself,” says the man by the fire.

  “Yeah,” G
riff agrees. “I have to admit, it’s not what I’d normally wear, but when you’re out looking for a change of clothes and you don’t have any money, what’re’ya gonna do, am I right?”

  “If’n you want,” says a man from his spot just outside the circle. He had been staring at us quietly since we arrived. “I saw some deer just outside a’ town dat would make a mighty fine tunic.”

  “I think I’ll cope for now,” Griff recovers after a short pause of shock at the offer. “But thanks. How long we got on food?”

  “Just waiting for Tenney to come back with the spice. Shouldn’t be long now.”

  “Cool. So, what do you boys do to pass the time around here?”

  “We’re traders,” another man says.

  “I mean for fun, what do you do for fun?”

  “Fun?” the man at the fire says.

  “Yeah, you know, drinking, dancing, maybe picking up some ladies?”

  “Ain’t no ladies here ‘cept for the king’s wife.”

  “Oh. Well, still, you’ve gotta have some great grog, right? Isn’t that what you folks drink?”

  “If’n you mean the ale, we’re a mite low at the moment, but tis a fine batch.”

  “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, Griff,” I say to my companion.

  “Yeah, I’m beginning to think that we might be better off checking out this new king guy. I mean, he’s the only one around with a lady-friend, right? He’s gotta be doing something right.”

  “Yeah. My fear is: what if he thinks we’re here to stop it?”

  “Tis a mighty fine piece of jewelry you’re wearing there, missy,” a man says as he enters the area.

  “Tenney!” the man at the fire yells. “Find the spice?”

  “Of course Roul,” Tenney responds as he lifts a dripping piece of brown cloth and throws it into the bubbling pot.

  I grab Griff’s elbow and shake my head violently at him.

  “Alright, gents,” Griff says, not missing a beat, “looks like we’ve got to be heading off.”

  “Oh, but the stew should be ready any minute now,” Roul argues.

  “I actually just realized that we ate three hundred years ago,” Griff replies.

  “Who kidnapped the king’s wife?” Tenney asks.

  “What?” Roul replies.

  “The girl. She’s the king’s lady, right? She’s got the dark skin and she’s wearing that locket. That’s her ain’t it?”

  Chapter 40

  My jaw drops as the rest of the men begin eyeing me up. “Griff,” I say anxiously.

  “Sorry gents,” Griff says as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me back out the way we came. “Just remembered we have an important meeting to get off to.”

  “Now hold up then,” Roul says as Tenney cuts us off. The rest of the men surround us in a very imposing manner.

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Griff says anxiously. “You ever read The Prince and The Pauper? How old is Mark Twain?”

  “I’m beginning to think there might be some use in keeping the two of you around,” Tenney says with a malicious smirk on his face. “What do you think, fellas?”

  “You think there’d be a reward for returning the king’s mistress?” Roul asks.

  “I’d think that would be the least they would do for us. I’d guess that saving the wife of the king from getting kidnapped would be equal to a life debt.”

  “I promise you, guys, I’m not the queen,” I say, knowing that nothing I say will sway them from their current plan.

  “Noll,” Tenney says, taking charge of the situation, “can you find some place to keep these two held until I can get audience with the king? We’ll want to see what we can get before we show all our cards.”

  The man who offered Griff a deer-skin jacket earlier appears behind us and grabs me by the wrist.

  “Oh ho, what’s dis den?” Noll says. “Would appear dese two have already escaped capture.”

  “What?” Tenney asks.

  Noll lifts my wrist into view and shows my iron bracelet.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever seen that kind a metal work around here before,” Tenney frowns. “Musta been something the king brought along with him. What’d you do, missy? Did you make your husband angry? Maybe it’s because of your choice in boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend!” I shout.

  “I highly doubt that’s something we need to debate right now,” Griff says to me.

  “Alright, Noll, you put them in the big tent. I’ll go see what I can find out about this whole thing and see what we might be able to get for a reward. If the king’s not willing to pay, perhaps someone else is.”

  “Okay, Tenney,” Noll says and pulls us both into the largest of the tents. Within the tent is nothing but an open ground and several stumps that look like the one Roul had been using in front of the fire. “You two stay in here, awright. It’d be a pity t’ haves t’ bashes in yourses heads.”

  “Anything you say, Noll,” Griff says, looking up into the eyes of the man who easily stands over seven feet tall with the biceps to match.

  “Awright, den.” Noll leaves without another word.

  “What the hell, Chelle?” Griff screams at me. “What have you gotten us into now?”

  “Me?” I yell in response. “You’re the one who had to go all Toucan Sam and bring us here for some sock soup.”

  “And you’re the one who has to look like some queen when we go back in time thousands of years or whatever.”

  “Yeah, what are the chances of that?” I ask. “I mean, how many black people were actually in power in the Middle Ages in Europe?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Griff asks as he grumpily sits down on one of the stumps. “I had thought you were all slaves until the Civil War.”

  “Really, Griff?”

  “I don’t know, okay? I’m just saying that I don’t know your cultural history, or whatever.”

  “But don’t you think it’s weird that there would be someone looking exactly like me whose husband just happens to be the king in the very town that we can’t seem to get out of?”

  “Can you just get to the point already?”

  “What if it’s us? What if we’re the ones in power right now?”

  “I feel my headache coming back.”

  “Come on, Griff, just hear me out for a minute. What if we decided to use this stupid pendant again and were taken back in time once more, deciding finally to just settle down and somehow become rulers of York?”

  “I already told you, Chelle, I have no interest in using that stupid thing ever again. And I already said I don’t think of you that way.”

  “I don’t think it matters what you want. I think we already did it.”

  “No, we didn’t—“

  “Never mind.”

  “What do we do to get out of here?” Griff asks. “I really don’t want to deal with meeting the king, even if it turns out that he’s me. Maybe especially if it’s me.”

  “You mean without using the pendant?”

  “Yes, without using the pendant.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we come back in time and save ourselves from this moment when we least—“

  “What?”

  “Nevermind. Why don’t we just sit around and see how this plays out?” I ask.

  “The last time we did that, we ended up tied to a stick with the barbecue being lit below us.”

  “And we got out of that okay, didn’t we?”

  “How hard can it be to knock one of these tents over, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. They look pretty sturdy.”

  “They do, don’t they. Could we climb out one of the sides? It’s not like the walls are solid or anything and I can’t imagine that Noll brute has eyes on every side of the tent.”

  “You might be right,” I answer, “but are you willing to risk what he might do to us if you’re wrong.”

  “Not after looking at the size of those hams he calls fists.”

/>   “Hmm,” I say as I sit on a stump next to Griff.

  “How long has it been since we’ve slept?”

  “Centuries, at least.”

  “I’m exhausted.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Wanna sleep on it? Maybe we’ll have some good ideas after a little cat nap.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  Chapter 41

  I’m not going to pretend that sleeping on the cold and hard dirt floor is comfortable, but considering how little rest I’ve gotten in the past however long it’s been since that night at Agnes’ place, well, let’s just say it doesn’t take very long to pass out completely.

  In fact, I am out so cold that the men are already dragging me out of the tent by my shoulders before I wake up enough to realize I’m being moved.

  “She sure is a whittle one, idn’t she?” I recognize Noll’s voice coming from the man to the left of me.

  “Nuttin’ but a waif,” another man about the same size of Noll says from the right of me. “You’d fink royalty would have a bit more meat on them’s bones.”

  They throw me onto the back of a wagon that’s waiting on the road just outside of the tents. They disappear and return shortly with Griff, who appears to have woken up a bit more animated than me.

  “Get your damned hands off me, you stupid gorillas!”

  “You fink we even need to keep him alive to shows him to the king?”

  “I dunno,” Noll answers. “We’s should probly ask Tenney befores we did somefing like dat.”

  “Meh, probably ain’t worth the effort anyhow. Maybe we’ll get a good old fashioned execution out of the affair if we keep him alive.”

  They throw Griff down roughly beside me. He jumps to his feet in an effort to leap from the vehicle, but Noll’s swollen hand appears on his chest and pushes him back onto his rump.

  “If’ns you can’t sits by yer lonesomes, I’s gonna haves to sits on ya,” Noll says with a smile.

  “Okay, okay,” Griff replies as Noll climbs into the back of the wagon. “I’ll play nice.”