Samantha looked up to see the laughing grin on Boomer’s face. “That makes no sense. You’ve been with me on plenty of official occasions when we had to meet foreign scientists and dignitaries. Not to mention back in the day when we met plenty of locals off-duty.”
Boomer’s look became one of puzzlement. “Didn’t you see it?”
“See what?” Samantha asked as a chill crept down her spine.
“In the lab before I threw you, there was another door—” Boomer started to explain before Harrison cut him off.
“Is there anything in what you are about to say that could make me question the decisions I will need to make to keep the men safe?”
Boomer said, “Yes,” without hesitation.
“Look, the only things I know about time travel come from watching Star Trek and Dr. Who. But if those old shows had any form of scientific base, the general concept was the future is best left unknown or we can muck it up trying to get to that point.”
Samantha mulled over the conversation. Boomer saw something, another door, and that might explain the extra wind in the lab as well as the blast from my quantum door. The real question is, what did he see? She asked, “Do you really believe if you tell me about what you saw it will make a difference?”
One half of his face curved up in a small knowing smile as he replied, “Oh, hell yes.”
“Then keep your mouth shut, Sergeant. That’s an order,” Harrison said as he ran his hand over his cropped hair. He looked back at the men who waited to meet them. “Keep your hand on your side arm, and let’s not give them the opportunity to attack.”
“No longer have my weapon,” Boomer replied. He finished the thought with a carefully considered, “I gave it to someone who needed it more.” His hand patted the side pocket of his pants. “Still have my Bowie knife.”
Samantha smiled as she reached inside her jacket pocket and patted the leather case. “I have mine, too.” Turning her back to the locals, her father’s knife slid into the pocket in her pants.
As if on cue, Private Weiler approached the gathering and handed a Bowie knife to Harrison. “The colonel didn’t lie, there is one for each man. We also found some binoculars with infrared, working on a detailed scan. We have your back for the pow wow, sir.”
As he inserted the knife into the side pocket designed to hold the weapon, Harrison said, “Keep up the good work and keep an eye out. While this seems harmless, one never knows.” With that said, he began walking to the meeting none of them ever would have imagined.
Faolan waited for what seemed like an eternity for the three to join him. So, they bring their captive along, unless she isn’t a captive. Maybe she’s the older one’s wife or woman. His temper flared as he decided the older man should be beaten for his treatment of her.
As the distance closed between them, the shadows under her vibrant green eyes became visibly darker. Her skin was pale, far too pale for someone who seemed to walk with a fluid grace. The pallor of her skin made him think of someone who had been kept away from the sunshine and sweet fresh air, again like a poorly kept prisoner.
He assumed the immensely large man at her back was there to keep her from running. The next swallow came hard, as even he could not picture bringing down the mountain of a man in battle. Again he wondered how and why the man had painted his skin and so flawlessly, too.
The older man stopped four or five steps in front of him. His voice rang clear. “I am Captain Jeff Harrison. Whom do I have the honor of meeting?”
Faolan stood a little straighter at the words spoken. Such fine speech for a man who mistreats a woman. “I am Faolan, Laird of the Draig clan. To my left stands Kagen.” Without looking, he knew his cousin would offer only a nod of the head. “Who is with you, Captain Jeff Harrison?”
“Please call me Jeff, and allow me to introduce Major Samantha Sykes and Sergeant Michaels.” He offered a light smile. “We are traveling and mean no harm to you or your people.”
Faolan nodded at the peaceful beginning and moved to sit on the ground. He chose not to mention that his people were a day and a half away on foot and safe. He asked the expected, “Where do your travels take you?”
The man, Jeff, glanced at the woman who sat to his right. “For the moment we are looking for a cave or something similar to spend the night. The rest of our plans are of no concern because they are peaceful.”
Faolan held back the anger smoldering inside him. The man named Jeff probably only sought to keep the woman from the light of day. I can see her listening to the conversation, but her head lifts to soak in the rays of morning light as if it has been ages since she has enjoyed such a simple pleasure. A slight smile curved her mouth as she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the clearing. Her delicate hand caressed the grass and weeds, and his body wondered if she would touch his back with such adoration or cling to him with fingernails sunk into his skin.
The unbidden image was forced away even as he wondered how her midnight-colored hair would appear unbound and blowing in the light breeze of the day. Would only small sections be moved, or would winds lift the glorious thick midnight tresses like a goddess in flight?
While his gaze stayed fixated on the woman, Faolan forced his mind to settle on the conversation at hand, not whimsical fantasies. Faolan replied, “Peaceful intent is always pleasing to find. If you travel north, there are caves tucked within the hillsides, and you should reach them well before the sun begins to set.” He pondered his reply. A smart man would have sent them south and away from any chance of stumbling onto his lands. He amended, “You may also find the same to the south, though I dinna ken for certain.”
Jeff was wise. The glimmer in his eyes revealed he realized that Faolan came from the north, though he only asked, “Are there any whose permission should be sought for using the trails?”
Again the man impressed him; such questions did indeed speak of peace. “The trails may cross onto land held but nay in any way that prohibits travel. Though once you reach the lowlands, that may change. I dinna ken.” His gaze again left Jeff to stare at Samantha. “Is she your wife?”
The large man, Sergeant Michaels, let out a quick laugh at the question, but stopped when Samantha glared at him. Jeff replied, “She is my traveling companion, as are the men.”
The disgust gnawed in Faolan’s belly at the cold comment. Such a beautiful woman should be treasured and kept safe, not dragged around on foot. Certainly not locked away and probably abused by these men. She is small and fragile, not one who could ever hope to stand against so many fit men.
Then his mind wondered, Are they men or warriors? Jeff and the mountain in front of me are certainly built like warriors. He glanced up at the seven men in the distance. They were too casual in their observance of the talk; some stole quick glances, while others appeared to be busy but seemingly did little. No weapons drawn was the only fact that kept him calm. His men could easily reach him before the intruders, who did not appear to be armed.
Faolan answered the next questions with polite response. “The rains come this time of year in the late afternoon. Yes, the water in the streams is safe to drink, and yes, game for hunting is plentiful.” He asked his own question, “Where did you come from? I saw you . . . enter.”
Jeff answered only after seeking some form of silent approval from Samantha. His question was unspoken, but her head answered with denial. He said, “From very far away is probably all you need to know.”
“Do you mean to travel back the way you came?”
Though he kept eye contact with Jeff, he could see the woman’s agitation at the question. Perhaps she does not wish to return with them. Since she was no man’s wife, Faolan assumed the worst was true: Samantha was some form of prisoner.
Yet the newcomers outnumbered him, and no risks could be taken with his men. They still needed to regain his flock and
see them back to Draig lands. But his conscience nagged at him. His grandmother would tear him to shreds if she knew he had left a woman in danger. He knew his dreams would be filled with the vivid emerald green of her eyes for many years to come if he did nothing. He wanted and needed to do something.
His hand went to the dagger tucked into his belt. With an exaggerated slowness, he pulled it into his hands. Faolan ignored the growl from the mountain and held the blade in his hand with handle stretched out toward Jeff. The dragon on the short pommel glinted in the morning sun, and its eye watched the proceeding with care.
Faolan turned the dagger slowly to show the same figure inverted on the other side. It was the symbol of his people: the winding dragon with a head on each end. “‘Tis mine by birthright. Take it in peace and leave me the woman.”
Jeff leaned forward with a hard glare. “I don’t think I quite understood you.”
“Aye, you ken. Trade me the woman for my dagger.”
In less than the blink of an eye, Samantha was on her feet with green fire shooting from her eyes. Her husky voice demanded, “What am I, some type of goat or something? How dare you presume to trade for me with that worthless thing in your hand? My father was the laird of lairds who commanded more men than you will ever see in your lifetime.” She turned away from him as if he were nothing and spoke to Jeff. “On your feet, Captain. This meeting is over.”
Jeff jumped to his feet. “Do I assume you have taken command, Major?” Even Faolan could hear that the question meant something significant.
“You bet your ass I have,” she said, and then she stormed back to their waiting men with the mountain at her back.
Jeff took several steps before he turned with a mischievous grin to ask, “Still want her?” Then he too walked away.
The rap to the side of his head reminded him of Kagen’s presence. His cousin asked, “What were you thinking?”
Faolan saw the disapproval clear on Kagen’s face. “I thought I was saving her.”
Chapter 4
“Was that outburst really necessary, Major?” Harrison asked when he reached her side.
Samantha stopped her stride long enough to answer, “Yes,” and resumed walking. “I have zero desire to be seen as a victim or as something that can be bartered for.”
Harrison was silent for a few moments before he said, “You sounded just like your father back there.”
A small moment of triumph was quickly replaced by the knowledge she had certainly made an impact on the timeline. But she was so tired of being quiet and holding her tongue when threatened. That had been the sum of the last few years of her life. No more. Her mind questioned the rationale of the presumed laird, and she shuddered at his probable intentions. Samantha was many things, but a victim was definitely not one of them.
As she reached the men, she found Weiler and commanded, “Break it down for me.”
Weiler had apparently heard her tirade and spoke with quick, efficient words. He told her of the basic supplies; each man had MREs for seven days, a knife, a sleeping bag, a change of clothing, collapsible shovels, short-range communicators, and biodegradable soap. There was one standard issue combat medical kit, four pairs of infrared binoculars, four sensor tablets complete with underground sonar, and her computer. She asked, “Does anyone have medical training?”
A man with a reddish crew cut and freckles stood before her. “Private Miller, ma’am. Class four medic.”
She glanced up at him. “Keep the med kit with you.” A class four medic was a rarity and should be able to handle almost any emergency medical situation. Silently, she hoped his skill set would never be needed.
Samantha turned back to Harrison. “I like your idea of a cave. We can use the sensor tablet to find one. I need a quiet place to work to find out what our options are, and these men will need shelter for the night. In fifteen, I want to be on the move. Have Private Weiler scan the area to make sure we don’t walk into anyone else. The safety of these men is priority one.”
Harrison replied with a quick salute. “Again you sound just like your father.” He stepped closer and offered in a whisper, “You don’t need to take command.”
“As senior officer, yes, I do.” She gave him a quick wink. “Don’t worry, I’ve read the manuals and learned from the best.”
Harrison smiled and turned to the men. “In fifteen, we are boots walking. Once in a secure area, we will talk and answer all questions. Make it happen, people.”
Samantha picked up her computer case and dusted it off. She sighed with relief to find it intact. Boomer’s quizzical expression caught her attention. She asked, “What?”
His laughter answered first and was followed by, “That was the last thing I expected.”
“What did you see, Boomer?” She referred to the other door opening in the lab. Boomer knew something big, and it was blatantly written on his face.
“No way, Sam. The captain is right. What will be will be . . . and all the rest of that nonsense.” Boomer’s reply came with a grin.
She was about to question him when another soldier called out, “We have incoming, Major.” His name badge read Joven.
Samantha noted the binoculars in his hand. “Corporal Joven, tell me.” She was careful not to look in the direction he did. There was no need to tip off a potential enemy.
With his eyes locked on hers, he replied, “Southwest of your back there are sixteen bogies with weapons hot. Well, swords in hand anyway. They’ve formed a semicircle around our new friends, out of sight in the forest approximately five hundred yards out and closing.”
“Are you sure on the count?”
“Affirmative, ma’am. Sixteen heat signatures, not counting the others we can see.”
Harrison was at her side immediately. “Do you think they are with our new friends?”
Joven replied, “Highly doubtful, but I can’t be certain. I saw what I presume was a scout creeping back away from the clearing. He made no contact with the party you met with.”
Samantha quickly assessed the situation. “We could potentially outrun them, but we would leave a large trail to follow.” She looked at the captain and said, “We need to go.”
Captain Harrison said, “I can’t believe you just said that. If we leave now, those five men are dead. There is no way they will survive combat at a three-to-one ratio.”
Her heart hurt at the thought of leaving anyone to be slaughtered, even Faolan. “I know that. However, this isn’t our battle because this isn’t our time or place. Our interference could be the beginning of a paradox, we could and most likely would change the timeline.”
“I hate to inform you, but your paradox already exists. Faolan and his men would have probably never entered, much less stayed in this clearing, without our arrival. Whatever they had planned changed because of us,” Harrison replied as he stared down at her.
How she hated that he was correct. The timeline had already been changed. As her mind calculated the possibilities of what offspring would be born to men who should have died and pondered the children the men about to attack would never have and the complications of it all, her father’s voice rang loud in her mind: Never leave good men to die.
Other than trying to buy her, their meeting had gone well. Faolan’s men had never tried to attack them or given any implication they would. It was the dark ages, and buying women was most likely common. Given a lack of proof of wrongdoing, she had no choice but to consider them decent.
“This could still be some form of a trap,” Samantha said. “I suggest we ask our new friends about the impending arrival. Quick way to find out whose side they are on.”
Harrison agreed.
Before he could say any more, she jogged to the area where they had met. Laird Faolan and his men were talking and retreating toward the forest and the ap
proaching men. Samantha called out, “There are sixteen armed men approaching from those trees. Are they yours?”
Faolan immediately drew the sword from his back. “You have seen all of my men. There has been no deceit on my part.” He and his men moved closer to her as faint sounds of rustling came from the brush. He stared at her. “Do you stand with us or against us, Major Samantha?” There was nothing in his eyes that hinted at his earlier offer for her, only a hardness that spoke of readiness for battle—a look she understood from a life surrounded by military personnel.
With a signal from her right hand, her men were in motion and flanked at her back. She turned to ask them, “Does everyone have the hand-to-hand skills to take down a man armed with a sword?”
As silence and nods met her inquiry, she said, “Mark these men,” and pointed to Faolan’s companions. “For now they fight with us. Your goal is to take down the hostiles and capture any weaponry.” She pointed to Miller. “I want you in the rear guarding our supplies and primarily my computer. You are the only medic we have. Engage only if necessary.”
Harrison stepped up. “You heard the major.” He added quietly, “I would feel a lot better if you kept to the rear of the battle too.”
She offered a cold glare, and Boomer moved to her side. “Not going to happen,” and then the men poured from the trees.
“Get behind me, lass,” Faolan cried as the clearing filled with armed men. He knew who they were: those responsible for stealing his herd and most likely killing his father. Today they will die.
When he turned to see if the woman had the sense to obey, he was stunned beyond belief to see her use her hands to signal her men into battle positions. Cold fear struck his heart as she stood at the center. How can I protect her if she doesn’t have the sense to listen?
Time of the Draig Page 4