Timeless (Maiden Of Time Book 3)

by Crystal Collier

  She released time. “Amos, drop the veil!”

  Darkness disappeared. She yanked time slower as silent death rained down. Men shielded their eyes, suddenly blinded. Alexia pulled through time, knocking each deadly projectile away from vulnerable bodies.

  First wave cleared, she released time. “Willem, Zephaniah, the archers!”

  Zeph grabbed the boy and launched into the air.

  “All to war!” Alexia called—the signal for free battle. This was where things got complicated for her—especially being unable to reverse time. Regin had already put three men to sleep, and Sarlic had one man on his knees in agony. The ground shuddered. That would be Willem with the archers. Amos threw darkness like a shield, blinding people as they neared and allowing himself the advantage. Silivia launched rocks at the enemy while Hammond and Ilberd swung clubs. Mae loosened her band, stealing life from the enemy as they came close—not enough to kill, but enough to drop them before her. Beatrice crippled them with fear.

  Thump. Alexia gasped. Her pulse sped, her womb tightening. She dropped to one knee, startled by the surge. Her hold on time slipped.

  “Not today. Not now.” She shoved back onto her feet, pushing through the stiffness. It wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable.

  Beatrice was down. A man stood over her swinging a blade for her throat. Alexia yanked the minutes to a halt and shoved the man aside in stilled time. The enemy flew to the ground. Zephaniah dropped out of the sky and lifted Beatrice to safety.

  The battle thickened. Dust clung to the air, rattled free by Willem’s attacks. Pitch swirled through the breeze. Shouts filled Alexia’s ears, eternal, forever-long battle cries and the suspended clash of weapons. They were the backdrop to periodic contractions as she stopped time and waited for them to pass.

  Only the sun gave time meaning. It felt like hours to Alexia, sweat pouring down her brow, but that brilliant orb barely crept upward.

  She blocked a sword from slicing into Hammond and whirled around at the same instant Ilberd screamed from across the field. Alexia raced to his side through stopped time.

  His attacker grinned in triumph, weapon held high to finish the job. Alexia slammed a shoulder into him. The man went down, hitting his head.

  Ilberd struggled and spat blood. Crimson bled into the fibers of his tunic. She shouted for Zeph, but the noise was too great.

  Ilberd clasped her hand, his eyes focused on her. “Stay with me.”

  She couldn’t deny the request. He struggled through two more breaths and fell limp.

  The fool. He shouldn’t have gone into battle with a weak arm! Alexia held in a sob, knowing the more distracted she became, the more likely she was to lose another friend.

  ***

  Kiren the coward. The title fit. Even while calming terrified children, even while attempting to heal Beatrice, he was a whiteliver. He should be fighting side by side with the others. His ability to grow things could be used to alter the battlefield as well as heal. Alexia was out there, and with child no less, fighting the enemy. Who considered that a good idea?

  Oriel skidded to a stop with the bandage he’d requested.

  He snatched it and wrapped a wound. “What could you see of the fighting?” he asked. “Are any others injured?”

  “They all look whole.”

  “And Alexia? Why is a woman in her condition on the battlefield?”

  “Why, she is the commander—from before anyone knew she was with child. Have you never seen her in battle?”

  Shamed to admit it, he hadn’t. “The commander?”

  “You can see for yourself from the rise.”

  He left instructions with Oriel and slipped away, crouching between huts to take in a view from between buildings. There were so many of them. Five to every one of the Lost Ones.

  He counted his friends and found all but Alexia. But what was that? A flash of movement snatched his attention on one side of the battle. Just as quickly, it was gone. Black curls appeared on the other side of the field. He squinted, and she came into focus for an instant, disarming a man and then disappearing again.

  Magnificent.

  Truly, she belonged to the fight. Were he fighting on the other side, he’d be well and truly terrified.

  ***

  The line held, barely. Alexia deflected an arrow from hitting Amos square in the chest and panted for breath as her womb seized. Her friends had been battling hours. She had fought the equivalent of two days. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up—especially with the contractions intensifying. They were down two champions and weakening. The entity pressed his soldiers forward. Regin’s touch hadn’t worked on him, and her friend had nearly lost an eye in the attempt. Mae couldn’t get close enough.

  “We cannot keep this up!” Alexia shouted.

  Amos grunted. “A headless snake is a dead snake.” He dodged a blade and obscured the presence of a boulder in the attacker’s path. The man tripped forward over the invisible impediment.

  Take out the leader and victory was theirs.

  She slowed time and punched a man in the stomach, knocking his helmet off when he bent forward and smacking the back of his head. “He is guarded by the strongest.”

  Amos scoffed. “Then we must attack in a way they will not see coming.”

  They met eyes briefly.

  A way he wouldn’t see coming. “Gather the others to you and full veil the line. I will need you shortly.”

  He glanced at her. “And what will you do?”

  She hurried away in slowed time.

  Zeph whirled away from a javelin in slow motion as Alexia stopped next to him and knocked the projectile off course. She turned on his attacker and reached out to push him when her breath caught. Another surge.

  She shouted her agony and barreled into the javelin thrower. The man toppled as she lost her grip on time and landed on top of him, curled into her pain.

  Hands wrapped around her shoulders from behind and pulled her away, into the sky. “And I thought I was having a rough go,” Zeph teased.

  She exhaled a single laugh as wind embraced her, the battlefield falling away under the swoop of wings. She caught her breath and twisted her head toward him. “We will distract the others, but I need you to take the leader. The man in white.”

  “And what do you want me to do with him?”

  “Knock him out and bind him on the next rise for interrogation. Then return.”

  “What about you?”

  Alexia gritted her teeth and drew on the medallion. “I will fight until I can no longer.”

  Zeph set her next to Amos. She gave their leader a signal, and he shot darkness over the warriors protecting the knight.

  Zephaniah dove into the pitch. A shout and startled voices followed flapping, and Zeph shot out of the murk and into the sky so quickly that the man in his arms must have passed out. The enemy surged forward.

  “Fall back!” Alexia called. She didn’t attempt to halt time any longer. She couldn’t do it. Her friends ringed her in, protecting her, but it was time for a full escape. The battle was ending. Regin fought around multiple injuries, and Silivia tottered from a head wound, but they wouldn’t leave the fight.

  The Passionate were losing.

  Her eyes snapped to Mae. The woman could end the conflict, but her hunger would attack the Passionate as well. She’d gained so much control, but not enough.

  Willem shouted and shook the earth beneath a man’s foot, throwing him off balance.

  Shaking earth.

  She remembered walls of earth and stone collapsing around her as she fled the Soulless’s caves. Nelly had brought the caves down. If Nelly could collapse caves, what was Willem capable of?

  She slowed time and grabbed the boy’s arm, forcing her plan into his mind. Could he save them?

  He nodded, cheek twitching.

  Zeph returned, and she shouted at him to evacuate everyone to the next rise where the women and children had fled. He took the fighters one at a
time. She drew on the necklace once more, defending the few that remained. She was trembling, every limb ready to fail before Zeph came for her, leaving Willem alone.

  Her feet had barely touched down on the neighboring peak when Zephaniah dropped her and zipped through the sky, shaded by Amos’s darkness. Passionate crowded around her. Kiren pushed through them, halting next to her, his eyes filled with worry.

  They were all accounted for, except for the dead. And Willem.

  The mount, their home for the last many weeks, shook. Stones tumbled free. Trees crashed down the peaks. Dirt rolled in voluminous breakers like the waves of the sea, shooting dust into the sky and blocking the sun.

  “Fly faster, fly faster!” Alexia chanted, both fists clenched tight.

  Wings flapped out of the haze, a boy clasped in the flyer’s arms.

  ***

  They lit fires on the peak, but it did little to warm the homeless band. Leastwise their battle commander.

  Kiren watched her, perched near a fire alone at the edge of the mountain, head resting in her arms. She’d done it. She’d saved them, but at what cost?

  “It were a brilliant move,” Regin muttered.

  Heads bowed in agreement.

  The enemy had been demolished. An enemy who didn’t even know what they fought. The opposing force’s leader lay unconscious under Regin’s care, although no one had decided what they would do with him. An interrogation at the least. Kiren didn’t want to think what the worst scenario entailed. The man belonged to the holy order of knights who had been chasing them—that much he knew.

  He pressed off the ground, aimed for Alexia, but Regin caught his arm with a gloved hand. “Leave her be, lad. She needs this. Every battle, she needs this.”

  Kiren shook him off. “I go to assess her health.”

  Regin’s eyebrows lowered, but he gave a tight-mouthed nod.

  Alexia didn’t move as he approached. Hair spilled loosely down her hunched shoulders, long and dark, her breathing uneven as if caught between sobs.

  He perched next to her, ready to flee if needed. The last real conversation they’d had was when she refused his indirect offer to espouse her. He didn’t know how to cut through the barrier between them, and so perhaps it was best that he remained on his side until she brought it down. “You do not seem pleased by our victory.”

  Her shoulders heaved. “There is no victory in war.”

  “Nay, but war is part of life. As is death.” He choked on that last word. No number of words would ever convince him the death of his parents was acceptable. How was he to persuade her otherwise? “You saved many of the innocent today.”

  “Are our lives any better than theirs?”

  Since she didn’t glare or shove him away, he settled next to her, mulling that one over. “Did we go into battle to win a prize, or merely to protect our home and lives?”

  She dragged a sleeve across her face, the hollows beneath her eyes deep. “I am so tired. Tired of the war and fighting. Tired of the constant battle. Tired of…” She placed a hand on her hardening womb.

  He leaned forward and touched her brow, focusing inward. “You are dehydrated.” He slid his waterskin free and offered it to her. “You need to drink and rest.”

  She slumped forward. “Who can rest when all I see are the faces of the dead? Again and again. Their anger. Their steel. Them dying.”

  His heart ached for her. He too knew this burden, the weight of deciding who would live and who would die, although he had failed to save so many.

  “You are a worthy commander.” He wrapped her fingers around the waterskin and let go. It fell into her lap, clasped in both hands. He slid a hand over hers and guided it to her mouth.

  Her body trembled against his with the effort of staying upright as she drank. She was beyond exhausted, physically and emotionally. Kiren brushed the hair from her cheek, halting the labor-inducing hormones with a touch and calling for relaxants in her brain. It wasn’t her time. At least, he wasn’t ready for it to be her time. He could give her a few more days, weeks even.

  He wrapped an arm around her. “You feel the loss of your enemies vehemently, the sign of a good leader. You are exactly what this people needs.” Not me.

  She leaned into him and yawned. “I learned from watching you.”

  He stiffened.

  She laid her head against his shoulder, and he stroked the white strands of hair away from her face, dosing her with more calm. Her skin was drawn and gray. Tight lines eased across her brow, smoothing into sleep, and her lips parted in steady breaths. For tonight he could watch over her and grant her peace.

  Thirty-Three

  Trapped

  The open window shed only enough sunlight to touch the girl’s toes. Just a hint of warmth. Not nearly enough to fill the little girl’s need.

  Velia halted in the middle of the floor, throat tightening. Ulric sat beside her child with an arm wrapped around her neck.

  “I was beginning to question if you loved this little thing,” he spat.

  She glared.

  “More than you care for her father or your own life, clearly.” His grip tightened around the girl’s neck.

  Velia surged forward, catching the child’s fingers between hers and begging the little one for forgiveness with her eyes. Irons burned dark circles into her baby’s wrists, turning the skin more sickly than even normal children of her bloodline. If Velia could free her precious one from the fetters, she would sweep her away to safety, far, far from this man and his dark intents.

  Ulric tugged at the child’s blonde locks. “I was beginning to grow impatient.” He yanked the hair and the girl cried out. “You know how I get when I’m impatient.”

  Velia tensed. Wind gusted into the tower, answering her distress. It rattled the single stool and the refuse bucket.

  Ulric grinned. “You will bring them to me.”

  She collapsed to her knees. Wind hissed her reply: “Never.”

  “Oh, I think you will. I would hate to see how your offspring handles the rack at such a tender age.”

  Velia exhaled a breath of rage.

  “If you are afraid of revealing your traitorous identity, then bring them close enough and I will do the rest.” He got to his feet. “I will let you say hello now.” His eyes darkened. “And then you will join me below.” He tilted his head. “Do not anger me by disobeying again. You know what happens when I am angry.” He angled a menacing snarl at the child and departed, sending two guards to take his place.

  Too dry and used for tears, she clasped her child to her bosom. She would have whispered an apology to her little one, but the girl knew how powerless she was to stop Ulric. Instead she held her baby, infusing all the love she could into their precious few moments.

  Thirty-Four

  Return

  Alexia couldn’t voice her relief when Velia arrived with the sunrise. Burn marks crisscrossed the woman’s neck and arms, her skin sallow but recovering. Amos reported that she’d been captured while gathering food and held prisoner the last five days, escaping only last night in a moment of luck.

  They remained on the mountain another four days, slowly moving elsewhere as Velia recovered. Regin allowed the leader of the opposing force, a knight from the order of the Knights Templar, to wake, and Sarlic questioned him, but the man refused to speak. The inflictor kept watch on the man, rotating with Regin.

  Alexia struggled through her guilt, knowing it had been a desperate choice. But had it been the only way? She replayed a hundred different scenarios and found no better solution. Still, their faces haunted her. How many wives had been made widows by her? Women like herself. How many children had become fatherless? Children like her own.

  Most everyone had cleared out, but she waited until last—searching the mountain ruins for enemy survivors. There were none.

  Kiren stayed with her until the end, quietly offering what comfort he could. Making sure she drank enough water. Insisting she rest.

  He sat b
eside her, the breeze sweeping past them as he brushed his fingers over her arm. “I am going to miss this place, for the good memories made here especially.”

  “Good and bad.” Ravia’s and Cedric’s deaths, Perrin and Murial, Ilberd… “So many dead.”

  “But so many saved.” He clasped her hand.

  She looked at him. Had he forgiven her for accusing him of abandoning his family? Did it make a difference? Her mortality hung in the very near future, and she couldn’t take him with her. Soon she would join her friends and enemies in the afterlife.

  “Kiren.” She slipped her fingers free. “We must end this. I have a baby to birth, and you have centuries yet to live.”

  “Centuries…” he repeated.

  “Of which I have no part.” She gave him a pointed look.

  “I will save you.”

  Except she knew he wouldn’t. Somehow.

  His voice lowered and he leaned in. “Alexia, I will not fail.” His lips opened to confess more, but he snapped them shut.

  She covered her face with her hands.

  “I understand the reason for your distance.” His breath tickled a trail down her neck. “And when it is over, when I have saved your life, I hope you will open your heart to me.” He turned her to face him. His eyes were a calm summer sea. “Why else would God have brought you into this time?”

  “It was not God who brought me here.”

  His brows lowered.

  Thirty-Five

  Capture

  Leofrik licked his dry lips. A stone wall cooled his back except where his wrists were bound behind him, his legs likewise bound, and Velia sat, eyes wide, watching him.

  She had betrayed him.