Roam: Time Walkers World Special Edition

by E. B. Brown

  Maggie froze at the sound of Winn’s voice. Winn placed a hand on her shoulder as he joined her, standing by her side to face Benjamin. She tried to edge back to push him away and give them distance, but Winn would have none of it and remained firmly rooted in place. She could only hear the three of them, as if a fog descended around them, and it seemed the other Norse continued their celebration without interruption. Perhaps she could get Winn away before something terrible happened.

  “Let’s go, Winn,” she whispered, trying to pull her husband back. Her attempt was unsuccessful, and she felt the muscles of his arm tense beneath her hand. She saw Chetan standing a few feet away and cast him a pleading look, hoping he would intervene before there was bloodshed.

  “She can speak with me if she wishes, brother,” Benjamin replied tersely. “By English law, she is still my wife.”

  Maggie put herself between the men, but it was too late.

  CHAPTER 19

  Winn

  WINN MEANT TO walk away.

  Yet somehow he found his hands around Benjamin’s throat. He slammed the Englishman up against the table, jostling the mead bucket so that a considerable amount of it splashed their feet. The confrontation passed by as a blur, his vision clouded by fury at the sight of his brother near his wife. Benjamin gripped his wrists with more strength than Winn expected, and although his white face paled as Winn squeezed his neck, his brother held a look of quiet anger hooded in his blue eyes.

  “Is this how ye treat her, ye bloody savage?” Benjamin groaned through his narrowed airway. Winn frowned and glanced to his side, where he expected Maggie to be. She was a few feet away beside an overturned chair, and Chetan helped her to her feet. Her bright red hair fell about her shoulders in a tangled wave, and she brushed her hand over a scrape on her forearm. He felt a rising heat in the pit of his stomach as he realized he must have shoved her. Winn dropped his hands from Benjamin’s throat and stepped back.

  “I’m fine!” she hissed at Chetan, slapping her hands against her skirt to brush off the dust. He wanted nothing more than to finish what he started with his deceitful brother, but seeing what he had done to his wife took the wind from his lungs.

  With the last semblance of control he could muster, Winn turned away from Benjamin without answer to his taunt. He swallowed hard when Maggie slipped her hand into his. He could feel her tremble, with anger or fear, he knew not. He only knew Benjamin would not yet face justice for what he had done.

  Marcus stood up as Winn took Maggie by the arm and led her away. The Chief observed without intervention as they parted. Winn felt his father’s eyes upon him, but he owed the man nothing and would not acknowledge his silent question. The altercation had occurred in the corner away from prying ears, the music and celebration continuing on as if no disturbance had occurred. Marcus watched quietly as Winn left the Northern Hall.

  “Winn?” she asked softly. “Kwetii is with Teyas–”

  He swung around and barked a command to Chetan, who grunted a curse at him in reply, yet returned to stay with Kwetii nonetheless. Chetan would watch over the women and children and see them safely to their Long House when they finished the meal. For all his bluster, Winn knew Chetan could see how angry he was, and he was grateful to have the kinship of his true brother.

  His blood brother, his family. Chetan and Makedewa, they were the ones he knew would never betray him, who would stand at his side no matter what the cost. The sniveling Englishman inside? Well, he knew nothing of true brotherhood. The fact that they shared a father was of no consequence.

  “Leave her with my sister. Chetan and Makedewa will see to them,” he snapped. He saw Maggie flinch, her mouth falling open at his tone.

  “Fine,” she said. Her voice wavered, and she made a point of walking faster so that she reached the Long House before he did. He tried to slow his breathing as he followed her, making the effort to calm his irritation so that they might speak. It caused nothing but grief when they railed at each other in anger, and he needed to speak with her on other matters. Benjamin was a complication, one which Winn saw as temporary.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his fists clenched at his sides. Once they entered the dark Long House, she began to rifle through a basket of linens. She pulled out a long drying cloth and a cake of soap Gwen had given her, and then produced a bone-handled comb.

  “If Teyas is babysitting, I’m going to take a bath. It’s not like I get much time to myself,” she said. “It’s call de-stressing. I need to think.” He frowned.

  “You can’t go to the river alone.”

  “I’m not. Gwen showed me the bath house, I’m going to try it out.”

  He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity peaked. Bathing inside a house? Perhaps he would escort her.

  “I will see you there,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. She shrugged. Gathering her bundle in her arms, she left the Long House and he followed her. “I need to speak with you first. I have news from Pepamhu,” he said.

  “Then come on. I’ll let you scrub my back while you talk,” she chirped, casting a sly look over her shoulder. She trudged on toward the edge of the settlement, and soon he could see a miniature Long House nestled into a crop of boulders. The house appeared built on top of the rocks, the roof extending across an overhang and dipping into a crevice, topped by a round smoke hole. When he followed her inside, he was pleased to feel a warm mist heating the space, rising up from a bubbling hot spring inside a nest of boulders.

  “Wow. Gwen was right, this is nice. It looks like a whirlpool!” she laughed. 39

  Her attention was on the shallow bath, but his attention was on her. Her laughter was a ringing of bells as she shed her clothes. She lifted her chemise over her head and tossed it on the ground, then shimmied out of her doeskin skirt and dropped it at her feet. His breath caught in his throat as moonlight illuminated her lithe body and she bent to place one tentative toe into the water. She squealed with joy and stepped into the pool, immediately submerging herself. By the time she surfaced, he had already shed his breechcloth and leggings and was stepping down to join her.

  It was good to see her laugh. Despite the upheaval in their lives she managed to trudge on, doing her best to care for their daughter and keep their family together, yet he knew it wore on her in ways she would not admit. Her stubborn streak was her greatest strength, and also her weakness, her refusal to give in to despair that which drove her on. As he watched her dip her long red hair back into the water, he wished he could shield her from it all. The last thing he wished to do was tell her about Teyas, and about Finola’s condition.

  “This is amazing!” she said. He stood waist deep in the pool next to her, and as she reached up to squeeze the dampness from her hair he could bear it no longer. He needed his wife in his arms.

  “Yes, amazing,” he murmured, pulling her against his chest. She let out a squeak and he smiled, running his lips gently over hers. He felt her relax as his fingers caressed her back and moved lower to her buttocks, slick, yet firm, beneath the water.

  “You’re not going to wash my hair, are you?” she whispered.

  “If you wish it so, I will wash it now,” he replied. He slid his knee between her willing thighs, covering her mouth with his when she moaned.

  “Later. Wash it later,” she agreed. She let out a gasp when he moved inside her, her hands encircling his neck as he pushed her back. He held her close, pinned against the smooth rock, their flesh making a soft sucking sound as they moved beneath the water.

  The ache rose within, that monstrous demon held deep in his blood. It rose up to consume them, wrapping them in steely tendons as thoughts of losing her nipped at his mind. He could bury himself in her softness, feel his soul merge into hers, through hers, as if nothing could part them, yet he drove himself further to push past the truth.

  If only he could make time weep, as he made her cry out with pleasure, make it stand still and obey him as he tried to make her obey. Neither would be conq
uered, however, and as she cried his name against his ear, he knew it was the closest he could come to being master of either.

  He gently kissed her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears on his lips. He could feel the welts her nails left upon his skin and the sting of his wounds from the warm water, but he held her close all the same.

  “Ntehem,” he murmured. “Nouwami.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  They gently bathed each other, taking care with the fragile release between them. He recalled she once explained what a chauvinist pig was, and he wondered sometimes if she suspected him of that behavior when he buried his fear and longing in her willing embrace. Yet if his actions angered her, he was sure she would tell him so. At least he had been sure of that a few short weeks past. Since they had arrived in the Norse village, the bond they shared seemed strained, a tenuous thread that might break loose at any moment. Winn hesitated to share the news of Finola…and he had no idea how he would discuss the marriage of his sister.

  “Finola is here. We took her from her English master,” he finally admitted as they walked back toward their Long House after their bath.

  “She’s here? Can I see her?”

  Winn was afraid she would ask, and he would not deny her.

  “She is not well, ntehem. Perhaps wait until tomorrow to see her. Gwen cares for her now, I am sure she is sleeping.”

  “I just want to say hello, we won’t stay long. Come on,” she insisted, taking his hand firmly as she broke into a faster pace toward Gwen’s house.

  “And what do you mean, you took her from the English?” she muttered. Maggie thrust the door open unannounced, obviously expecting a different sight than what greeted her. Instead, he watched, unable to soothe her, as her face crumpled. Finola looked worse than before. There was no way to hide it.

  “What happened to her?” Maggie whispered. Winn stood helplessly by as she went to Finola. Gwen muttered something low under her breath in what sounded like her Norse language, shaking her head. The older woman looked strained, her face weary as she watched them.

  “She’s had a fright, I think,” Gwen answered.

  Finola stared forward, even as Maggie squeezed her hand. At least Gwen had bathed her, so in that respect her care had improved. He wondered if anything could be done to help her.

  “What is wrong with her eyes?” Maggie asked. Winn had noticed it earlier. Finola’s eyes, once a clear blue like his own, now clouded near white in color with only a hint of their former luster.

  “I’ve only seen it once before, when a Seer left this earth on a journey. When a Seer knows too much, it can haunt her. Sometimes the visions can take her away, and she cannot return.”40

  “So she’ll wake up soon, then?” Maggie asked.

  “It was a man I saw it happen to, and nay, he did not wake. I am sorry, lamb,” Gwen spoke. “Can ye imagine, knowing what will happen to those you love, yet having no power to stop it? She must have seen something dreadful. Aye, I think she is on her own journey for now. Pray Odin will not welcome her at his table just yet.”

  Winn took his wife by the shoulders and gently urged her away. For once, she let him guide her.

  “You will tell us if she wakes?” Winn said to Gwen.

  “Aye, ye and my Chief. Without delay.”

  *****

  Later, when they returned to the Long House, they lay nestled together under the furs with Kwetii sleeping peacefully nearby. His wife was silent, which was unusual for her, and although he knew the events of the day wore heavy on her, he did not expect her silence. She laid her head in the bend of his arm and pressed her lips against his chest, her breathing shallow as if she were near sleep.

  “We should leave within a sennight,” he said. He felt her breathing catch, and her hand resting on his belly slowly clenched into a fist.

  “Finola can’t travel,” she quickly answered.

  “She will stay here with my father.”

  “You’re Jarl to these people. We can stay here among them,” she replied.

  “My father has his son returned to him. It is time we go.”

  His muscles tightened and he felt his ire rise at her words. Did she truly wish to remain with the Norse? As if he had not shown enough restraint yet, did she ask more of him?

  “These are your people, too. And mine,” she added.

  His mouth felt dry. Of course, she would want to stay with her kin, as well as Marcus. He could not fault her for that, but it still angered him. There was nothing for him among the Norse, except to stay as the ill-favored son of a Time Walker Chieftain. For a time he thought perhaps they could make a life with the Norse, since even Chetan and Makedewa fit in well with the warriors, but having Benjamin there changed things entirely. Winn heard the words his father spoke, and although he understood the reasoning, he could not forgive him the intent. He thought of the words often, since that day.

  “Would it have mattered, even if you knew of me?” Winn asked.

  Marcus hesitated before he spoke.

  “Yes, it would have mattered. But still, I would have gone.”

  Such things should not trouble a man full-grown, yet it still stung him. Winn would never leave his daughter, nor his wife, not even if the hands of the Great Creator tried to take him from them.

  “You seem to like it here. It’s safe, there are plenty of men to defend the village. We could stay here, and never see the English again, or your uncle, either,” she said. He shook his head.

  “No.”

  “I’m tired of fighting with the English. Is that it? Do you like all the killing, all the fighting?” she asked, suddenly sitting up, her voice rising a pitch. She clutched a fur to her breasts as she confronted him.

  “Yes, I have killed many Tassantassas! What of it?” he countered, rising up next to her. He pulled her back to him, wanting her warmth and softness instead of her anger. “Does that make me less of a man to you, that I would spill blood? I tell you now, I would do it again. I would burn down their houses, I would steal from them. I would squeeze the life from their tiny white necks. If needed of me, I would do it. I would do it to keep you. I would take the life of my brother, for you.”

  He could see her teeth biting into her bottom lip as he stared into her flashing green eyes. She trembled in his hands.

  “I belong to you. Nothing will change that, no matter where we live,” she whispered. His stomach curled and dropped, and he slowly loosened his grip on her.

  “Then lay down your fists, and rest your head. When you wake in the morning, you will see your kin. That is all I can promise you.”

  He felt her breath leave her body in a sigh as she sank back down into his arms beneath the furs. As she submitted to sleep, he continued to hold her, his eyes focused on the moon above through the smoke hole.

  Yes, he would do anything to keep her. Yet what she asked of him was more than he could give. How he would end it, he did not know.

  CHAPTER 20

  Makedewa

  MAKEDEWA GLANCED UP above at the grassy hillside as he walked with his brothers toward the training field. He could see Rebecca’s skirts whipping in the breeze as she chased after the devious Kwetii, who squealed with laughter at the game. He had not spoken with her since that day in Winn’s Long House, and as the time wore on, he became more convinced it was for the best. She seemed to settle in amongst the Norse as if she belonged, and he would not disturb her newfound comfort. Although he ached with jealousy whenever he saw Cormaic or the other men speak to her, he was also proud of her for overcoming her fears. Perhaps as she became stronger in herself, she would grow to trust him as well. It was the only hope he could muster at their situation.

  “And you, Makedewa?” Winn called. Makedewa followed a few paces behind Winn and Chetan, lost in his own thoughts as they walked. He jogged to catch up with them when Winn called his name.

  “Hmm?” Makedewa asked.

  “Will you ride with us to take Teyas to Mattanock? We would le
ave in a few days,” Winn said as he adjusted the new sword strapped across his back. Makedewa admired Winn’s elaborate weapon, layered with intricate carved rune symbols and inlaid with gemstones along the hilt. It was the weapon of a leader, as his brother should have, being the son of the Norse Chief Pale Feather.

  “I will go. Which of us will stay here?” Makedewa answered.

  “Marcus will watch over Maggie and Rebecca. I do not wish to take them to Mattanock while the Weanock warriors are there. I fear for trouble if we do so,” Winn said. Chetan nodded in agreement, shrugging his fur clad shoulders.

  “I think your wife will not like that,” Makedewa sniped. Winn frowned, squinting a brow downward at him.

  “She will do as I ask,” Winn replied.

  Chetan and Makedewa both burst into laughter, bringing a flush to Winn’s face with an outraged scowl.

  “Humph, Fire Heart will do as you ask? Not likely!” Chetan said with a grin.

  Makedewa shoved Winn with the point of his elbow, which his older brother shrugged off with a grunt. Winn appeared angered at the taunt, but Makedewa could see the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wished to laugh.

  “Just wait, brother. Wait until you marry Rebecca. You shall see,” Winn mumbled.

  “I think that will never happen, so no, I will not see.”

  “No reading lessons then?” Chetan asked, his voice alight with a teasing melody.

  Makedewa sighed, kicking at a stone on the path. The training field was ahead, filled with the Norse warriors, and the last thing he wanted was to have them hear of his troubles with Rebecca.

  “I offered her marriage. She refused me. There is nothing more to it,” Makedewa said evenly.

  Winn and Chetan both stopped and turned to him, the joking immediately ceased between them. Makedewa was not a man to speak of personal feelings, and he knew that admitting as much would grab their attention. However, he wished to be out with it so he could cast it aside, before his brothers heard of it from the women. He rushed forward with an explanation before they could formulate any assumptions.