Roam: Time Walkers World Special Edition

by E. B. Brown

  “Do not kill him now. Wait until after the meal, brother,” Chetan advised. Kyra shot him a seething glare over Morgan’s shoulder.

  “I-I would ask for yer daughter’s hand. I wish to wed her, without delay,” Morgan said bravely. She felt her heart soften a bit with his words. Perhaps he did care for her, after all.

  “Oh? Why so quickly?” Winn asked through gritted teeth. Kyra closed her eyes. Surely he would not tell her father. He would not…would he?

  “Because she is no longer a maid, and I would not forsake her.”

  She was suddenly shoved out of the way when her father reached for Morgan’s throat. Uncle Chetan tried to pull him off, but it was no use. Winn pinned him up against a tree and lifted him onto his toes as he gasped for air.

  “Da!” she screamed, scrambling to grab his arm.

  “I’ll kill you!” Winn shouted. “She’s betrothed, you bloody fool! And you!” he hollered, turning on her. “Have you no sense?”

  “Oh, great Odin!” she snapped, rolling her eyes as the men struggled. She was thoroughly tired of men questioning her intelligence.

  “Odin will not help you, Kyra! Go to your mother, I’ll speak to you later,” he ordered.

  Morgan shoved Winn, surprising them all as Winn took a step backward. Although his face paled, Morgan grabbed Winn’s collar and shoved his face close to her father’s.

  “Ye’ll keep yer hands to yerself, ye hotheaded fool!” Morgan shouted. Winn’s eyes flared wide. She felt her heart skip as her father drew his knife and put the blade to Morgan’s neck.

  “Please,” she pleaded, grabbing Chetan by his tunic when Winn ignored her. “Stop them!”

  Winn let go of Morgan before Chetan could intervene. Morgan staggered backward against the tree but recovered quickly, standing up straight to face her father. Winn’s chest heaved, his eyes narrowed on Morgan.

  “Leave. Never return here.”

  Winn turned to Kyra, grabbing her by the upper arm. She bit back the hot tears as he hauled her back toward the village.

  “I love her. I will marry her.”

  Abruptly her father stopped, shaking his head. She tried to twist her arm away but he was not yet ready to let her go. Morgan stood defiantly in Winn’s path, refusing to retreat when Winn approached.

  “Ye do?” she asked.

  “I do. I’ve always loved ye,” Morgan replied. She ignored the chuckle from her uncle.

  “I didn’t know –” she said.

  “How could ye not? Dinna I tell ye as much when we –”

  “Enough!” Winn roared. “Must I kill you to stop hearing this?”

  “You cannot kill him, brother,” Chetan interrupted. Kyra thought he winked at her, but she was not certain. “He once saved your life, do you not recall?”

  Kyra winced when Winn released her. He placed his hands on his hips, pacing away a few feet before he glared at the three of them. Chetan motioned at Morgan to follow.

  “Come with us. My brother may want to kill you later,” her uncle quipped.

  CHAPTER 19

  Winn

  WHEN JOHN BASSE ARRIVED unannounced, Chetan offered to help Winn look for the wayward Kyra. At the time, he believed his brother only meant to help, yet as Winn sat staring at Morgan White, he suspected Chetan knew what they would find all along.

  He glared at Young Morgan across the expanse of the long table. Yes, as a child Morgan had delivered a message to save Winn’s life, but Chetan was surely mistaken if he believed that fact might keep Winn from gutting the man. With every moment that passed, his desire to throttle Morgan grew, and it took all his willpower to stay in his seat.

  Kyra sat next to her mother, her gaze focused on the far end of the table where Morgan sat with Keke. He noticed Maggie elbow their daughter, and the way their heads tilted together as they shared whispers between them. His fury only flared more knowing his wife had no issue with what Kyra had done.

  Seated to his left was John Basse, who did not seem at all displeased with the lack of attention Kyra graced him with. If Winn had not been so blinded by anger he would have questioned both the unannounced visit and John Basse’s disinterest in his daughter. Chetan, however, was the most jovial of the group, chuckling with Eric and making sure to include John Basse in their discussion as Winn sulked at the head of the table.

  “I thank ye fer this meal, friend. I regret the short visit, but there is much I need to discuss with ye,” John commented as he shoved a piece of meat in his mouth.

  “My home is yours, as you know,” Winn replied. “The husband of my daughter is always welcome at my table.”

  Chetan snorted and took a gulp of ale as he smiled.

  “Ah, well, yes, of course. The reason I trouble ye today is –”

  Winn dropped his tankard and jumped to his feet, his chair slamming over onto the floor as he rose. In the few moments his attention turned to John, Kyra had left the table.

  His vision blurred crimson as he went after her. He should have killed Morgan on sight. And his daughter? She needed to be inside, at least making the pretense that she liked the company of her suitor. How could she behave in such a manner, when there was so much at stake? It cut him to know his daughter had so little care for her people. They needed the alliance with the English to survive.

  “Get back inside. You’ll take my seat next to your betrothed,” Winn barked as he approached his daughter. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her dark hair trailing back off her face in the evening breeze. He did not care for the way she glared at him, unaccustomed to defiant behavior from her. Yes, she had always been strong willed, owed entirely to her obstinate mother, but this was much worse.

  “I will not. And I shall not marry him. Ye canna make me!” she shot back. Her lip quivered but she held her ground, even when Winn came closer.

  “Yes, I can,” he growled. “I will.”

  She shook her head.

  “I love Morgan!”

  “It matters not! You will do your duty!” he bellowed. He heard Maggie approach but he shrugged her hand away, too focused on the defiant young woman in front of him.

  “Winn –”

  “Leave us, wife,” he snapped.

  “Ah, a word, if ye please, Winn.”

  He turned at the sound of John’s voice. His daughter’s betrothed stood nervously next to Maggie, and Winn immediately regretted his rash display of anger. Kyra’s cheeks blared bright pink, her blue eyes so like his own reflecting every bit of her fury. John cleared his throat, scraping a finger around the collar of his shirt as if he could not find words for what he meant to convey.

  “Well, have at it,” Winn replied. He knew his voice was curt, but considering the circumstance, he thought John might forgive him.

  “I beg yer leave; I must confess why I called upon ye. I ask release from thy marriage contract. I know we signed on this matter some years ago and I do not intend to change our terms, but if ye would grant me this consideration…”

  Winn did not hear most of what was said after he realized John was breaking his vow. He watched Maggie go to Kyra, and the way Kyra smiled in relief. Chetan negotiated with John, and in the end their alliance survived and John was free to marry another. They would move to Basse’s Choice as planned, regardless of the lack of marriage bond.

  After John gave his regrets and left, Winn looked for Kyra. She stood with Maggie, arms entwined, silent as she waited for him to act.

  “Chetan,” Winn said, his voice low. “Show Morgan back to town. If he tries to return here, kill him.”

  Winn ignored the gasp from his women. He turned away from them and went back into the Northern Hall.

  *****

  Winn did not return to his longhouse until morning. When he looked in on Kyra, he was not shocked to find her pallet empty and her horse missing. Considering the events of the previous day, he decided to set out alone to retrieve her, unwilling to ask for help when he knew it was his anger that drove his daughter away.

/>   If there was remorse in his heart, he did not know. Yet despite his sheer frustration at the woman his daughter had become, he would not allow her to wander into trouble.

  For her flight, he blamed himself.

  For keeping the truth from her so that she did not truly understand the dangers in town? That was his burden to bear as well.

  Winn did not know where to find Morgan White, and he did not wish to waste time. When he arrived in town he went directly to the tavern, confident that Benjamin would know where to find the young Englishman. Although Elizabeth City had expanded since his last visit, the tavern was easy to find. All he had to do was follow the trail of soused men to the door.

  The stares were easy to ignore. With a purposeful gait he made his way to the back, his eyes scanning the establishment for a glimpse of his brother. To his dismay, there was no sign of Benjamin, nor of anyone else he recognized. The only attendant was a comely serving wench, tending the place alone. Disgusted with his poor fortune, he left to resume his search.

  As he entered the alley behind the tavern, he felt a presence behind him. The footsteps were hesitant, likely a slight man, and whoever followed him made no attempt to tread quietly. Without turning, he drew his knife.

  “I have no quarrel with you, stranger,” Winn said slowly. “And I have no time for trouble. Be on your way and I shall be on mine.”

  “Yer searching for the girl, are ye not?”

  His swift movement startled the woman, for in the span of a moment he swung around and snatched her by the arm. It was the wench from the tavern. She cried out when he slammed her up against the wall, her head hitting the wood with an audible thump. Her eyes glistened but she did not cry, her mass of dark hair shielding most of her face as she glared at him.

  “Unhand me!” she hissed.

  “Where is she?” he demanded, ignoring her request. He squeezed her arm and shook her, thrusting his face close to hers. “Tell me!”

  “I will! Why de think I followed ye, if not to help? She was asking questions inside and he saw her. Agnarr knows what she is – they’re riding to Wakehill now. Ye can catch them if ye ride hard.”

  Winn loosened his grip but did not allow her to flee.

  “And you? You know what she is as well?” he asked. Although he did not relish the thought of harming her, he would not let her live if she was in league with Agnarr Sturlsson. He did not understand her duplicity, but it was even more of a reason to cut her throat with little remorse.

  “I – I…yes. I do know what she is,” she said softly, her face losing color as he raised his knife.

  “Your loyalty leaves room for question, my lady,” he murmured. “Why should I not kill you now, since you betray your own kind?”

  He saw her throat constrict as she swallowed.

  “Agnarr’s not my kind, and I am loyal to my husband. It was he who asked me to watch fer ye, ye ungrateful cur!” she shot back. She lowered her tone a notch when he pressed his knife into her neck. “Benjamin said he will not let him harm her. My husband will keep his word.”

  Winn released her, his breathing shallow. So his brother had taken a wife amongst his enemies? There seemed no bounds to his treachery.

  “Benjamin may be your husband, but that will not save you if we meet again. Pray no harm comes to the girl. Yours will be the first heart I cut out if she is damaged.”

  She slumped back against the wall as he left her. He would spare no accomplice of Agnarr’s should harm come to his daughter. Not Benjamin, nor his wife.

  CHAPTER 20

  Benjamin

  WHEN HE NOTICED HER enter the tavern, the breath left his chest in a rush. It had been years since he saw her, a headstrong girl with her mother’s temper and her father’s dark hair. Yet there was no doubt that the young woman before him was his niece, grown into a stunning beauty who captured the attention of every man in the room. In another time and place, Benjamin might have been proud to call her kin, but at that moment, he had a dangerous problem.

  Not only did she have the notice of every eye in the tavern, but that of his benefactor as well. Agnarr studied her, surveying her from head to toe, until suddenly a glimpse of recognition surged across his face.

  “She reminds me of a lady I once knew,” he murmured.

  “Oh?” Benjamin replied. The glass he held in his hand cracked in his fist and he dropped it discreetly into the barrel of rubbish behind the bar. He wiped the blood away with a flannel cloth.

  He was helpless to warn Kyra. Unless he was prepared to kill Agnarr in front of a tavern full of Englishmen, which he was not, there was little he could do. He watched, his chest tight, as Agnarr spoke with Kyra and invited her to sit. Too far away to hear their conversation, he decided offering her a drink would not arouse suspicion.

  “Who is she?” Jora asked. Benjamin glanced at his wife. Her mood was difficult to discern, be it jealousy or curiosity he did not know.

  “I know not.”

  Jora looked at Kyra, then back at Benjamin. “Ye lie,” she said simply. She grabbed two cups of ale and stalked toward the table where Agnarr sat with Kyra, destroying his means to hear what was said. He felt his face flush with anger, yet he could not fault her. There were too many secrets and lies between them for anything less than mistrust.

  As Jora bent and placed the cup in front of Kyra, she made a purposeful movement to touch the girl’s hand. Agnarr’s eyes narrowed and he made a sharp retort to Jora, and Jora quickly finished serving them.

  When she returned to his side, he could see she was shaking. As Agnarr left the table and made his way toward them Benjamin realized there was no time for deceit.

  “She is a Blooded MacMhaolian. If a savage comes looking for her, ye must help him,” he whispered briskly.

  “But where did she come from?” Jora demanded.

  “I will tell ye when there is time. For now, ye must promise ye will do as I ask.”

  “Benjamin, ye must meet my young friend,” Agnarr declared, approaching the bar with Kyra’s hand tucked under his arm. Benjamin saw Jora silently nod and he released his breath in a sigh. At least he could count on her.

  Agnarr looked like a smug cat, proud of the mouse within his paws, and Kyra appeared anything but reserved. Her eyes widened in recognition when she met Benjamin’s gaze.

  “Oh, I know –”

  Benjamin quickly cut her off.

  “Pleased to make yer acquaintance, mistress,” he said with a nod. “What brings ye here on this fine day? Surely I’ve ne’er seen ye in town before?”

  His warning seemed to resonate with Kyra. Her smile faded.

  “Why, no, of course not. I only traveled here in search of a friend, and then I shall be on my way.”

  “I promise we shall locate yer friend, my dear. There is no person I lose sight of in this town, man or woman alike, I assure ye,” Agnarr offered. “Will ye ride with us, Benjamin? I am sure it willna take long to locate her friend.”

  “A ride?” Benjamin asked, bile rising in his throat.

  “Yes. What, my dear, did ye say was yer family name?” Agnarr hummed, his surly voice little more than a contented purr.

  “Oh, it is –”

  “Of course,” Benjamin interrupted. “A ride. Right away. Shall we?” He took a chance by offering his arm, but he was relieved when Kyra took it and Agnarr did not seem to object.

  One of the King’s men engaged Agnarr as they left the tavern, and it was all the opportunity Benjamin needed. He hurried Kyra out the door.

  “Doona tell him yer name, nor where ye live. Say ye are from Jamestown, or anything ye like,” he ordered. “Ye do not know me, and ye know nothing Norse. If ye were not grown, I’d tan yer hide fer coming here!” he added, frustrated with the girl for her foolishness. “Dinna I tell ye never to return here? Let me guess, yer searching for Morgan White? I’ll kill him myself if this ends badly!”

  “Why must all ye men wish to kill each other? First my father, now ye! I’m going to marry Morgan,
and all of ye can stop yer yammering!” she hissed in reply.

  “If yer dead, ye’ll marry no man, will ye? Now quiet yerself and do as I say until I figure out how to get ye gone!”

  Benjamin lifted Kyra onto her mount as Agnarr joined them with a handful of his men trailing behind.

  Dusk settled over the horizon as they set off toward Wakehill. Agnarr continued to make casual conversation with Kyra, but Benjamin was reassured to hear her divert his questions. It was not long before he was jarred from his thoughts by the sound of a rider approaching.

  He heard the men whisper as Winn met their party.

  “A savage,” they said.

  Winn did not meet his gaze, his attention focused only on Kyra. When he seemed satisfied that she was well, he addressed Agnarr. Although they had never met, it was clear who was in charge, and Winn was not the sort of man to waste time with anyone else.

  “I thank you for your kind escort, but I shall ride with my daughter now,” Winn said, his voice unwavering. It was impolite not to introduce oneself, and Benjamin could nearly see the questions spinning in Agnarr’s mind.

  The Norseman’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursed as he considered the savage making demands at his side. Winn leveled his gaze in return, refusing to give Agnarr notice he might be swayed.

  “May I ask yer name, friend, before I release the lady? Surely ye understand I must consider…her safety,” Agnarr replied.

  “Winkeohkwet, of the Paspahegh people.”

  Benjamin hid his grin. Yes, Winn was a clever one. It was a name without ties, one Sturlsson could not track. If he looked for those that remained of the Paspahegh people, he would surely be disappointed.

  “He is my father, sir, and my only kin. I thank ye as well for yer kindness. ‘Tis my luck to have met ye today,” Kyra interjected. She moved her horse to her father’s side.

  “My pleasure, mistress,” Agnarr murmured. “How fortunate yer kin has recovered ye. I shall pray we meet again. Forever your servant.”

  Winn did not wait as Agnarr gave a tight bow to Kyra. Instead, he urged his mount into a gallop and Kyra followed behind. Benjamin finally let go of his tension, assured that his niece would be safe.