Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance)

by Geralyn Beauchamp

  “After she has been,” Kwaku popped a large piece of chocolate into his mouth. He chewed slowly, relishing the taste before giving John a wink. “Well fed,” he finished and laughed.

  “Fed!” Angus hobbled in from the kitchen. “Not in my house, ye disgusting heathen!”

  Kwaku began to laugh heartily, enjoying the little man’s discomfort.

  Lany stood, and ignoring Kwaku, grabbed a piece of chocolate out of the box still in the Azurti’s hand, never once taking his eyes off Dallan. “What did you give him, Kwaku?”

  “The Maiden, Angus is she safe?” John’s voice was urgent.

  Angus, remembering his manners, bowed slightly to him in a more formal greeting. “Aye, Lord John, she’s safe. My Tomy keeps a good eye on her.”

  “Tomy? Who’s Tomy?” John absently reached for the candy tin, stepping in front of the TV as he did so.

  “Bloody Sassenach! Yer blocking the box!” Mother MacNab screamed at him. A cane appeared out of nowhere and met John squarely in the knee.

  “Ow!”

  “Oh, sorry, Eaton. I forgot to warn you. Don’t stand in front of the box.” Lany advised, eyes still glued to Dallan, his mouth half full of candy.

  John sidestepped well out of the cane’s reach. “Who’s Tomy?”

  “She takes care o’ me mother every other day. I gots her a job as tutor in the Maiden’s house. Got tired of sneaking around there all the time—neighbors kept reporting me. I didna think it wise to get meself labeled a peeping Tom. So I use the lass.”

  John blanched. “Does she know anything?”

  “Dinna worry, Lord John. Master Lany checked her out on his last visit here. The lass knows nothing. I ask her how her week went, and she tells me all the goins’ on. Get a lot more information this way, more than when I was a-peeping through the Maiden’s windows.”

  John grimaced as he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Peeping through her windows?”

  “Everything’s fine, Eaton.” Lany bent over Dallan again and pried one eye open. He shook his head in annoyance. “He’s really out, Kwaku. Are you sure you didn’t give him too much?”

  “Where is the Maiden now?” John asked no one in particular.

  “’Tis Sunday, she should be home wi’ her folk.” Angus joined Lany next to Dallan.

  “And tomorrow?” John now asked, noticing the unconscious form on the floor for the first time.

  “She’ll be going out tomorrow night with my Tomy. I have the name o’ the, weel, inn, I guess ye’d call it. Sort of. Tuesday, they be at the library.” Angus poked at his younger countryman. “Big fellow, isn’t he?”

  Lany nodded. “Among other things, yes.” He turned and looked at Kwaku who was popping the last piece of candy into his mouth. “He is going to wake up sometime this week, right?”

  Kwaku began to laugh. “He will wake soon enough, Mos-go-fi -an. In fact, he will wake very soon. De drug is strong, yes. But it is short effect.”

  Dallan moaned.

  “Ha! See? What I tell you?”

  Angus snorted. “Aye, he’ll wake up. Then what are we to do wi’ him? I remember waking up once too!” He glared at Kwaku. “Remember?”

  “Different circumstances, little bro-dar! De Boyeee will be fine. He is made of good stuff !”

  “Maybe so, but I’ll take no chances just the same.” Angus grumbled as he slowly got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

  “When will he be fit enough to take out?” John asked as he took the spot Angus had recently occupied.

  “He will be fine by tonight, Lord Councilor. We should not hurry him. De Maiden needs time to sense he is near. Her heart will den waken.”

  Dallan groaned again, louder this time.

  “Turn off the radiator!” Mother MacNab yelled.

  Angus returned from the kitchen, a large frying pan in one hand. “That’s not the radiator, Mother.”

  Mother looked at the pile of Scot on the floor and snorted. “Who made that mess? I’m not cleaning it up! Who made it?”

  Everyone but Mother looked at Kwaku.

  Dallan grunted, turned from his back onto his stomach, managed to push himself up a few inches with his arms… then fell flat on his face.

  “Ohhh, that must’ve hurt.” Lany spoke flatly.

  Angus raised the frying pan and held it like a baseball bat. “He’s no going to break anything when he wakes up, is he? I’m still paying for the damages from that black de’il’s last visit!”

  “Dallan will be fine,” John commented confidently.

  “Maybe so, but I remember how I felt after I woke up in a strange place.” Angus narrowed his eyes at Kwaku, who was trying to look innocent.

  Dallan’s body jerked as he groaned again.

  Kwaku stepped to where Dallan lay and nudged him with one foot. “Time to get up, Boyeee.”

  John and Lany backed away from the now-still form on the floor, both knowing he wouldn’t be still for long.

  Dallan coughed, groaned, raised his head slightly and opened one drug-leaden eye. He turned his head to look at Kwaku’s foot, moaned again, and let his face hit the floor.

  “Yes, well, this is moving right along, isn’t it? Kwaku, next time halve the dosage, okay?” Lany suggested. “His face can’t take it.”

  “John?”

  Everyone looked at the floor.

  “I’m right here, Dallan.” John replied, kneeling by the Scot.

  Dallan held up his head and pushed his chest from the floor with his forearms, then slowly brought himself up to his knees. He looked at the Venetian blinds in the window in front of him before taking in the rest of his surroundings. Nothing but John seemed to register—the furniture, the people, nothing. He saw it all, but didn’t quite know what any of it was. His eyes then landed on Kwaku.

  The heathen he recognized, and glared accordingly. “I hate you.”

  Kwaku laughed. “Look around you, Boyeee. See de help I have for you! Dis is what will get you home!”

  Dallan looked around again. He saw John’s compassion-governed face, Lany peering at him over John’s shoulder. A little old man looked ready to lay him out with a huge frying pan. He turned from the sight and noticed a very old woman sitting in a chair with wheels, cane in hand, wearing a huge pair of spectacles on her face. She leaned toward him slightly, as if to get a closer look, and loudly passed wind.

  “What do you dink, Boyeee? You will have lots of help capturing de Muiraran for us, yes?”

  Dallan teetered slightly before he gave his attention back to Kwaku. “Ye murdering… stink… stinking heathen. Where am I?”

  Kwaku laughed again. “Look around you, Boyeee. Den tell me.”

  Dallan let his eyes and ears wander, and suddenly noticed an odd assortment of noises coming from his left near the old woman. His body automatically turned to the sounds. A large box sitting atop a table seemed to be their source. Dallan fell halfway in the direction of the woman, his balance still unsteady as he tried to get a closer look.

  “Get away from the bloody box!” The woman screamed.

  “Owohhh!” Dallan didn’t even see the cane coming. It hit him squarely on the back of the head. He threw himself in the opposite direction and crashed against the blinds, bringing them down on top of him.

  Kwaku flew into full Azurti guffaws.

  “Dallan, are you all right?” John ran to his side and began to pull the blinds off him. Lany went over to help.

  “Ye bloody heathen! I’ll kill ye! I’ve had enough o’ all o’ this!” Dallan’s arms were flying every which way as he struggled to free himself from the tangled mess.

  Face beaming Angus stepped into the melee to help as well. “Ah laddie, I’ve misjudged ye! Yer words are music to me old ears!”

  Dallan ignored him, struggled to his feet and spun on Kwaku, still unsteady. His eyes narrowed, his breathing quickened, muscles tensed. He growled low and bared his teeth.

  “Living stars, I think he’s going to try to kill him,” Lany whispered
to John.

  “Dallan,” John began, “don’t! Calm down! You can’t!”

  “Aye, not in my house! Kill him someplace else!” Angus quickly added.

  Dallan slowly crouched, preparing for a spring.

  Kwaku laughed and charged the Scot so fast no one else had time to react. “Today is not de day, Boyeee!” he grunted as he grabbed Dallan and roughly turned him around to face the now-uncovered window. “Today you fight dis, not me!”

  Dallan struggled briefly then realized he hadn’t as much strength as he first thought. He stopped, noticing for the first time what lay before him.

  Kwaku released his hold.

  “By the Saints.” Dallan stepped to the window and stared at the city. A loud, high-pitched noise caught his attention. It got louder, closer, coming with speed from the sound of it. A large white metal carriage sped past on the smooth street below, red flashing lights on its roof.

  “Mother of God,” he whispered as he noticed the horrifying carriages were everywhere. Another noise reached his ears and he followed the source of the sound and found his gaze pulled upward to a steel bird of enormous size flying high overhead.

  “You will help find de Muiraran, Boyeee.” Kwaku whispered in his ear.

  Dallan stepped away from the window, eyes widening as his stomach lurched. He looked in horror at his surroundings: the odd furniture, the strange lights, and the box that glowed. He looked closer. One side of the box, the source of the light, was made of glass, on the other side of which ran several men no more than a few inches tall. They ran among more of the metal carriages. Dallan felt his air cut off by his own rising terror.

  “Dis is where you will find de Muiraran, Boyeee. Or dis is where you will stay! What do you dink of dat?”

  No response. Dallan had fainted dead away.

  * * *

  “Dallan? Dallan, can you hear me?”

  The voice was familiar, holding a compassionate tone.

  Dallan tried to open his eyes, curious to see who the voice belonged to.

  “Thank the Creator. Are you all right?”

  The face belonging to the voice was also familiar, but not enough at the moment to attach a name. “John?” He guessed.

  “Dallan, can you see me?”

  See him? Of course he could. “Aye.” Why wouldn’t he be able to see him?

  “I need you to sit up if you can. I have something for your head.”

  His head? What was wrong with his head? He tried to sit up. “Ooohhh…” He grabbed at the back of his skull as if to pull the throbbing ache from there and throw it across the room.

  “Easy, don’t try to sit up so fast. Here, put this on it.” John grabbed one broad shoulder in an attempt to help him keep his balance, then handed him an odd-looking blue bundle.

  “Tis cold.”

  “It’s an ice pack. It will make your head feel better. You’ve got quite a bump.”

  Dallan again reached to the back of his head and gingerly searched the area with his fingers. He winced when they found what he was looking for, a knot about the size of a walnut. “Saints.”

  “Put the ice on it, then take these.” John held out his hand.

  Dallan peered at the two pills John offered, then at the ice pack in his hand. “This will do me fine, John. I dinna want to take anything.”

  “Dallan, these won’t hurt you. They’ll help your head.”

  “No."

  John sighed and shifted in his chair by the bed. “Kwaku sometimes uses methods I don’t agree with…”

  “Aye and dinna agree with me. For all I ken, he gave those to ye. I’ve seen that sort o’ wee medicine in the village. I didna take them then, and I wilna take them now.”

  John stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Very well. If you’re not going to use these for your headache, then you won’t mind me using them for mine.” He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed hard. He then leaned toward the bed Dallan was on. “You’ll have to learn to trust me. I need your help, and you need mine, but I can’t help you until you help me. And neither of us will get what we need if you don’t learn to trust me.”

  Dallan’s jaw tightened, his twitch dancing. “What is this place? Why have ye brought me here?”

  John’s eyes grew sterner still. “This is where the Muiraran can be found.”

  “And ye want me to fetch it for ye, is that not so?”

  “Yes, Dallan.”

  “Why does it ha’ to be me?”

  John’s eyes were intense now. “Because you’re the only one with the strength enough to wield it.”

  Ignoring John for the moment, Dallan swung his legs over the bed and took in his strange surroundings. There really wasn’t anything frightening about the room. The furniture was a little odd, boxy and plain looking. The light on the ceiling was more intriguing. He looked at it letting his courage build, then stood and took what few steps separated him from the curtained window. He slowly gripped the curtains, took a deep breath and pulled them apart. “Great Mother o’ God.”

  John stood and watched the Scot.

  Dallan fought against the sudden weakness in his knees as he took in the sight of what lay before him. The city was bathed in sunshine, yet it rained. Color washed everything in greens, blues, yellows, pinks, and purples. Dallan thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. “Tis beautiful.”

  “Yes." John breathlessly agreed. "Yes, it is beautiful. The end of a rainbow." He looked right at Dallan, a broad smile on his face. “And now, it’s time to tell you the few things allowed.”

  The Scot’s eyes narrowed.

  “About this place, for one thing. There are things you need to know.”

  Dallan looked at the city, bathed in color, rain and sunshine. The tall buildings, the abundant trees, the carriages and… people. There were people in the streets below. He suddenly realized how high up he was, four stories at least. “Aye,” he breathed, “that ‘twould be good.” He stared at the city and all its beauty, knowing full well that beneath the beauty, death lay in wait for him. He turned back to John. “Tis true, then. What the heathen is.”

  John nodded in confirmation. “Yes, it’s true. Kwaku Awahnee is a Master of Time.”

  “By the Saints.” Dallan stared out the window, wide eyed. “Am I a fool, John? A disbelieving fool?”

  “No, Dallan. Not a fool.”

  Dallan turned back to the window and the city beyond. “What is this place? It seems familiar somehow.”

  “As well it should.”

  Dallan tore his gaze from the city, slowly turning around.

  “Yes, Dallan. This is Genis Lee and Mishna… of the past.”

  With every breath, there grows an unquenchable

  Fire deep within his being,

  The void which had been his life exacts payment on his soul.

  A haunting melody captivates his mind,

  So familiar yet so unknown.

  A longing known to no other calls to him

  As the steely teeth of rejection tears the flesh of his memories,

  Wounds that can take eons to heal,

  Unless time itself intervenes…

  Jaireth Shamaelon, Ruler of Muirara

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Shona! Shona, what’s wrong?”

  Shona looked at Tomy, her face stricken with pain. “I…” She couldn’t find any words; they had left her, as had a large piece of her sanity. She could only stare at Tomy like a stupefied child.

  “Julia!” Tomy yelled, unable to tear her gaze from Shona.

  “What is it?” Julia’s crisp voice preceded her into the music room.

  “Something’s wrong with Shona. I think she may be sick!”

  Julia went directly to the worn sofa where Shona sat curled up in one corner, Tomy beside her. Shona looked very drugged, to Julia’s satisfaction. She bent to examine the girl’s eyes. “How are you feeling, Shona? Are you all right?” Her voice was soft, gentle and subtly controlling.

  Shona swallowe
d, the words in her mind still not coming out. She felt as if someone had placed an invisible gag on her. All she could do was shake her head no.

  Julia patted her cheek gently and smiled. “It’s all right, it’s just your prescription. You’ll feel better in a few hours.”

  Shona shuddered involuntarily, her face contorted with her effort to speak.

  “No, shhh. Don’t try to talk. The doctor said this was a side effect. It will only last a few hours and then you’ll be fine.” Julia was in Shona’s face now, intent on any sort of response.

  “Prescription? Prescription for what?” Tomy asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

  “Shona hasn’t been sleeping well lately.” Was all Julia offered.

  Tomy gave a dissatisfied sigh, but knew not to push the matter further. “She’s finished with everything I had for her. Maybe she should lie down?” Tomy stood, walked to a nearby sideboard and picked up a pile of papers. She turned and handed them to Julia.

  Julia ignored her, still intent on Shona. “If she’s finished, take them. I’ve no use for them until you’ve corrected everything.”

  Tomy frowned, pressing her lips together. “All right, if you say so. I just thought you might like to see them first.”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess I’m done for today. I suppose we aren’t going to Stan’s tonight.”

  Julia finally looked at Tomy. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  Tomy laughed halfheartedly. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think Shona’s gonna feel much like it.”

  Julia glanced from Tomy to the papers. “Just take care of those. We will be going out tonight. It’s just what she needs, what we all need.”

  Tomy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, an incredulous look on her face. “Julia, she’s in no…”

  “She is fine, and I will not tolerate your attitude. If you wish to remain in my employ, then I suggest you learn to listen and do as you’re told.” Julia sighed, and then smiled in mock understanding. “Look, this medication will affect her only temporarily, and she’ll have all afternoon to catch up on her sleep. By tonight she’ll not only be ready to go out, she’ll want to.”