Roam: Time Walkers World Special Edition

by E. B. Brown

  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 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 she 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.

  “So Finola spoke true. Pale Feather has returned,” Teyas said. Maggie nodded. “Do you think they will harm each other?”

  Maggie sighed. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to stop them if they do. Where are Makedewa and Chetan?”

  “They took Rebecca and Ahi Kekeleksu to the outpost for supplies. They should return soon.”

  “I hope so,” she replied. Teyas joined her on the bench near the window to watch the men. Maggie could see them talking, or at least gesturing at each other, but she could not hear since they were too far off in the yard. She hoped Winn’s brothers would arri
ve soon. They needed a distraction quickly, and the strength of the men would certainly come in handy.

  “What of his brother?” Teyas asked.

  “Hmm?” she murmured, intent on watching the men. “What of them? You said they’ll be back soon, right?”

  “No sister, I speak of his white brother. Benjamin. Is he truly here still, in our time?”

  “Oh…Benjamin. His brother.” It felt quite strange to make the connection aloud. “Marcus says he never returned to the future, that he found records of him in the past. I thought we’d be able to talk more about it, but I’m not sure we’ll get the chance.”

  Teyas shrugged.

  “It is no matter, we will all hear it soon. Get that bucket of water, sister. I think we have need of it.”

  Maggie flinched as the two men crashed together like a pair of titans, shoulder to shoulder, arms entwined. She grabbed the wooden pail and ran past Teyas into the yard.

  CHAPTER 3

  Winn

  WINN HELD HIS tongue until his wife and daughter entered the cabin. He surveyed his father silently during the interval. Yes, Marcus was everything Maggie had described him to be: an imposing Viking of a man with the face of a berserker, a man who could crush anyone who threatened him. Yet as Winn stood staring into the eyes that mirrored his own, he regarded him only as a coward. After all, the man had used his Bloodstone to abandon his pregnant wife, and with the way Marcus sniped about the Paspahegh, Winn wondered if the man had any regard for his mother at all.

  “Pale Feather. I hear of you, yet you know nothing of me,” Winn said once the cabin door closed.

  His father’s brows narrowed.

  “I know enough,” Marcus answered tersely. “And I know one lone Paspahegh is not enough to keep my kin safe. I won’t let Maggie stay with you if this is how you protect her. Those men could have killed ye both today if I hadn’t been there.”

  “You? You, of all, you question how I protect my wife? What of your wife? You left her like a coward, sneaking away with your Bloodstone!”

  Winn saw a flicker in his eyes.

  “Chulensak Asuwak? Ye don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sure she’s long gone with the rest of your people.”

  “My people? You speak of us like you were never Paspahegh!” Winn said, his voice rising with each syllable. How could his own sire behave in such a way? Or was Winn the biggest fool for expecting anything more?

  “Paspahegh, Powhatan, they’re all the same, and good riddance to the lot of them. Tell me what you think of them someday, when ye are hunted like a dog over a stupid old man’s vision,” Marcus replied, looking toward the house. “I’m here for one reason–to see my kin safe. If any of ye Indians get in my way, it will be the last thing ye ever do–no matter who ye are.”

  Marcus straightened up to his full height, which mirrored his own, and Winn tensed the muscles in his back as well.

  “So why marry a Paspahegh, if you hate us so much?” Winn asked, unable to hold back the questions he held buried for so many years.

  “What do ye know of that? Aye, it was arranged. It meant nothing other than keeping my head at the time, but she was a good woman, I am sorry to hear of her death.”

  Winn scowled at the causal manner in which his father dismissed his mother. He glanced back at the cabin. Maggie would be furious if he sent Marcus away. How could he ever explain it to her? Yet the urge to silence his father in a more permanent manner grew stronger with every moment in the man’s presence.

  “She lives. My mother lives,” Winn said quietly. He expected a reaction from the man, but the result was nothing short of disgust. Marcus scowled.

  “Your mother, eh? So she finally got what she wanted. Pepamhu, was it? That Nansemond brave is your father? I have no quarrel with him.”

  The words barely left his lips before Winn lunged at his father.

  They tumbled onto the ground, rolling in the dirt, neither willing to relent. Unbridled rage flowed from Winn like the surge of a dam held back, finally released by the harsh words from the man beneath him. Marcus would not be subdued easily, and Winn was taken aback by the fierceness with which he fought.

  Relentless and calculated, every move meant to advance his dominance while sparing the bulk of his strength for his final assault. Marcus broke the hold Winn had on his neck and sent him sprawling with a sharp knee to his belly. Winn rolled to the side before his father’s heel came crashing down in the dust where his head had just been, and as Marcus uttered a swear Winn grasped his heel and uprooted him with one swipe, knocking him flat on his back. They rolled and grabbed for each other at the same time.

  The man fought like him. Or did Winn fight like his father?

  “Stand down!” Marcus shouted as they each scrambled for control. Winn pinned him with one knee, one hand clutched around his throat. His chest heaved with the effort of catching a breath, his body unaccustomed to the effort it took to fight such a man.

  “You coward! I’ll kill you!” Winn yelled back.

  “I’ll take ye with me, Indian!”

  As Winn closed his grip tighter on his father’s neck he watched the man’s face turn purple, with rage or lack of air he knew not. Marcus kept his blue eyes focused on Winn’s as the breath left his lungs, and just as his lids began to droop, both men were doused in a stream of cold water.

  They jumped apart, sputtering and gasping for air.

  “No one is killing anyone today, idiots!” Maggie hollered.

  Winn wiped his forearm over his drenched face and looked up at his wife. She held the bucket at her side, her green eyes flashing with irritation, her long auburn hair rippling behind her with the breeze. Her chapped cheeks were stained with remnants of dusty tears.

  “Just stop it, okay?”

  Winn shook his head, more to clear his thoughts than to refuse her.

  “I’m sure Marcus will explain himself. And Marcus, you can hardly blame Winn for being angry–for Pete’s sake, you’re his father, and you just left with that stupid Bloodstone!”

  Marcus recovered his bearings enough to stand up about the same time that Winn also rose from the ground. Winn watched his demeanor change from rank anger to something else, something confused and guarded.

  “What are ye talking about?” Marcus asked, the words seeming caught in his throat.

  “Winn, of course! Didn’t he tell you? Well, then what on Earth are you two fighting about?” Maggie stammered.

  Winn stared blankly at Marcus. He made a harsh grunting sound.

  “There is nothing to talk about. This man dishonors my mother, he hates every Powhatan. I have no father.”

  “Winn, please –” Maggie pleaded.

  “Speak your words to my wife. When I return I will show you the way back to town.”

  He did not look at any of them again as he walked away. He feared what he might do or say if he remained any longer. It would serve no purpose to frighten his wife with more fighting. Yet if he stayed in the presence of his father any longer, he knew they would come to blows again.

  She would understand, he thought as he walked off toward the woods. Or at least she would have to put her objections aside until he returned.

  CHAPTER 4

  Maggie

  SHE DID NOT move to stop him as he walked away. Maggie watched her husband take the trail toward the stream, and when she lost sight of his back through the trees in the moonlight, she turned to Marcus.

  “Maggie–”

  “He’s your son. How could you leave him? And you lied to me–my entire life, you lied to me!” she accused.

  “I dinna know about him, I swear it.”

  “Don’t. Please don’t tell me any more lies,” she said softly.

  He swiped at the dust on his face with one dirty hand and shrugged his shoulders, which loosened the leather straps crossing his chest. She looked at the long-handled axe lying on the ground apparently flung off during the fight, and wondered if her oldest friend might have used it on her
husband if she had not intervened.

  Marcus followed her gaze, and she heard him sigh.

  “I never meant to keep it from ye so long. Yer grandda and I decided it was not time to tell ye yet, and then he got sick…” he said. She flinched and pulled back when he reached his hand toward her, the crushed look on his face smashing her resolve into shambles. He dropped his hands and then crossed them over his chest in an awkward motion, as if he knew not what to do with them.

  “Go on,” she said stiffly.

  “Yer grandda and I–well, we lived here for a time. There were many of us then, the Indians called us Time Walkers. No name of our own doing, ye see, only what they knew us by.” She saw his jaw tighten and his arms clench slightly as if the words pained him. “Opechancanough turned on us, and many were killed. Me and yer grandda, we were lucky to get away.”

  She thought the ground started to sway, but it was only the sensation of her blood draining to her feet. He stepped forward and firmly took hold of her upper arm, despite her trying to wave him off.

  “My Granddad? You were both Time Walkers! You lied about that, too?” she whispered.

  “Nay, we dinna lie. We planned to tell ye… you must understand, the Bloodstone magic is dangerous, it can kill ye as fast as it takes ye to another time. We could tell you nothing, less risk all our necks. Until ye were old enough, at least, to know where ye came from. It was my duty to protect my clan. I failed many, but I saved some by taking them to the future.”

  “I don’t believe you. Why should I believe you now?” She wrenched her arm away and turned her back to him, unwilling to see the pain her words caused him. Never could she imagine she would be standing before him, this man she loved, spitting barbs at him as if there were no feeling left in her heart.