Lost in Time_Split-Second Time Travel Story 1

by Ken Johns

  She was thankful for Henri’s support. His loyalty, after all these years, had not diminished.

  “Fine,” said Reginald. “I will hear it, but I make no promises.”

  Evelyn smiled inwardly. “Would it surprise you to learn that Raymond is already in the company of the heretics?” Evelyn waited for that to sink in before continuing. “Henri and I can seek out Raymond and return with the heretics before daybreak. You need not spill another drop of blood, nor pay a single penny to foreign knights.”

  “And exactly how do you propose to accomplish this miracle?” Reginald crossed his arms over his chest, but he was listening.

  “I will simply invite them here to talk with you as your guests.” She folded her gloves and placed them in her lap.

  “And they will come?”

  “They believe I am their friend and confidante.” She held her tongue as Reginald studied her. He was teetering. She almost had him.

  Reginald raised an eyebrow. “Am I to believe you are now my friend and confidante?”

  “Of course not. But these people pose a real threat to peace in the barony. That I cannot abide.” Her devotion to the barony was unquestionable. Even Reginald knew that in his heart.

  “Indeed.” Reginald nodded.

  She had him.

  “Henri.” Reginald sprang to his feet as though he had just had an original idea. “Accompany the Lady Evelyn and help her enact this plan. I will tell Wessex his assistance is no longer required.” He tugged at his tunic.

  “Yes, my lord.” Henri bowed his head and left the hall.

  Evelyn lingered. “Reginald, there is one more thing.”

  “Of course there is, Evelyn.” Reginald sighed. “There always is.”

  “I ask for nothing tangible. I simply wish to ask a question.” He did not interrupt, so she stood and stepped toward him. When he answered, she had to be able to hear the truth in his breath and see it in his eyes. “It is the same thing I asked you on the road. I know you do not believe in this rubbish about witches, so why are you continuing the charade?”

  Reginald looked away. “I cannot say.”

  “Is it Edward? Does he have some leverage over you that I am unaware of?”

  “Hardly.” Reginald snickered. “It is nothing like that.”

  “Then why?”

  “Enough.” Reginald strode to the door.

  Evelyn watched him go. Had Reginald learned of the magical orb while he’d held Chad prisoner? She could not think of any other reason worth changing one’s beliefs.

  Edward left the cathedral door open as he entered the alley. He carried a candle, and its light revealed his eight well-armed guests. He walked from one killer to the next, blessing them and handing each a small pouch of silver. He stepped back to address the group.

  “Thank you for answering my call. If any of you were at the execution, you have already seen the heretic, and you know what he is capable of. The man who brings me his head will receive a second pouch.”

  Several of them snickered. Peter, the largest of them, spat on the ground. “I will be back for it on the morrow.”

  “Hold on.” Geoffrey, the weasel, pouted up at Peter.

  “Shut it!” said Peter. To Edward, he said, “Keep it handy.”

  Edward nodded. Confidence was very refreshing. “There are also two women much like the one who burned this night. I do not care what you do with them. Just make sure they never enter my bishopric again. Do we have an understanding?”

  The killers grunted and nodded. There was a chorus of, “Yes, Your Grace,” as they bowed and slipped away into the night.

  Edward returned to the cathedral and closed the door. He would soon be rid of these witches, and his village could return to its God-fearing ways.

  Chapter Forty-One

  April 29, 1341

  At dawn, a lone villager untied Jess’s burnt corpse and lowered it from the platform into a wheelbarrow. He started to push it down the road when John stepped from the shadows, blocking his way.

  “Oy, move it,” the man said. He lifted his eyes up to John’s bloody face and dropped the wheelbarrow handles. The man scurried away, and John gently picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow and rolled it into the shadows of the alley, where Margaret waited.

  He knelt and touched the blackened remains of Jess’s cheek. From the moment she was born, she had shone with optimism and beauty, forever smiling at what life had to show her. He searched her charred face for some hint of that little girl, but there was only death. Burnt hair and smoke stung his nose. His throat constricted, and he squeezed out a growl through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes and tried to find the words to say goodbye. The only thing that came to him was I’m sorry.

  He stood and drew a long breath. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. Any sound he might make would be unintelligible: too high, too strained, too quiet, too violent.

  “Go, John. Your family needs you,” Margaret said as she picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow.

  John nodded but stood rooted to the ground. He’d always told himself he would never let anything happen to his family. Everyone in his unit quietly prided themselves on the unholy wrath that would befall anybody foolish enough to mess with their families. Last night he’d brought it. His full rage had fallen on this tiny village, but Jess had still died. He’d failed at the only thing that really mattered. He played it back in his head over and over, but each time he couldn’t see a choice, couldn’t see the error, couldn’t find a faster way up the stairs.

  “I will keep her safe,” said Margaret. She nodded toward the end of the alley.

  He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. Margaret was right. For a young peasant woman, she had an unshakable grasp on priorities. He’d failed to keep Jess alive and now Mila and Sandra were in danger. He lifted his head. There was work to do. When his family was safe, they would have a funeral for Jess, and then… there would be payback.

  When the sun came up, the town came back to life. Sandra walked among the villagers, searching every face. They filled the roads. Their pathetic lives continued in spite of what they had witnessed the previous evening. And while she still thought they all deserved to die for watching Jess’s execution, her focus was on finding Mila.

  It had been hours since she’d last glimpsed her only living daughter. She could only hope Raymond was still following her and keeping her safe. Sandra had spent the night wandering the streets and hiding. She wanted to stand in the road and shout Mila’s name, but that would bring unwanted attention. Instead, she kept moving and tried not to think of Jess.

  Sandra returned to the village square, where the market had opened. She hoped Mila might get hungry and try to find some food. The central platform loomed in her peripheral vision, and she turned to keep it behind her. She stood there, shaking, not daring to look at the stake. Whatever might hang there could quite possibly undo her resolve.

  If she circled the platform, being careful to keep her head aimed away, she would be able to see all of the shops that faced into the square. But she would miss the stalls set up with their backs to the platform. This is stupid. Her irrational fear of what she might see hanging there impeded her search for her living daughter. She took a breath and turned around to face whatever might be waiting.

  The stake was empty. She let out a sigh and refused to think about what might have happened to Jess’s body. Find Mila.

  She walked from stall to stall, checking every face. She turned around frequently and searched in all directions. People probably thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care.

  A well-armed man grinned at her with no teeth. She moved around to the front of the nearest vendor and glanced back to see if he followed. The man strolled past and kept going. He looked familiar, but she had seen so many faces that morning, it wasn’t surprising. She walked around the next stall and came to a cart selling shoes. The grinning man slouched nearby, looking back at her. Shit. She spun around and bumped i
nto the chest of another well-armed man.

  “Sorry.” She backed up.

  She tried to walk around him, but he grabbed her in a bear hug, pinning her arms and hoisting her off the ground. His garbage breath stung her nose as he laughed in her face. She stifled her gag reflex and kneed him in the groin. His eyes widened and he stopped laughing but he did not let go.

  Plan B. She raised her head and bit his chin. He tried to pull his face back, but she held on. She tasted blood and continued to bite down. Finally, his arms released her.

  As soon as her feet hit the ground, she bolted. She didn’t glance behind her until she was past the vegetable cart. The bear-hugging man was lying on the ground, staring at the sky. She hadn’t bitten him that hard.

  She swerved to avoid the grasp of yet another ugly man. She ran as fast as she could. The ugly grasper ran after her, and the toothless grinner was with him.

  She dodged villagers, children, and small dogs in the thick market crowd as she ran. But the shouts, curses, and smashing pottery behind her indicated that her pursuers weren’t as polite. When she heard shocked gasps and screaming, she stole another glance. The ugly grasper was on his knees, holding his intestines in his hands. The toothless grinner lay beside his own head. They must have bumped into the wrong villager. She left the square and plunged down a side road.

  “Sandra.” It was all she heard: just one word, spoken softly. She forgot everything but that familiar voice, face, and the arms she knew would be there. They always were.

  John took her hand and guided her to safety in the alley behind him.

  “Was that you?” She nodded back toward the square.

  The muscles around his jaw tightened, and his voice came out raspy. “I’m just getting started.”

  “Well, it’s about time.” She pulled him into a hug.

  “I’m sorry.” He gently pulled away and led her out of the alley.

  “Are you okay?”

  He exhaled heavily. “Barely keeping it together.”

  The knot in her throat poked her, but she swallowed it down. “I know.”

  He glanced behind them. “Have you seen Mila?”

  “Not for a while.”

  Evelyn stood fuming outside the Dover Dove. Raymond had arrived alone. He had been forced to leave the parents behind when the daughter went off on her own. At least he had followed her orders and stayed with Mila. But now her plan was in ruins.

  Henri and his two knights pushed themselves off a nearby wall and wandered toward her. She raised a palm, gesturing for them to stay back.

  “I cannot believe you have let me down.” She glared at Raymond.

  “I am sorry, my love.” He reached for her, and she took his hand in hers.

  She had to salvage her plan. “Where is she now?”

  “She rests in the next street.” Raymond pointed into the nearby alley.

  “Why did she leave them?”

  “I know not.” Raymond shook his head. “She was crying, and then she rushed away.”

  Evelyn took a long breath and reminded herself that nothing was ever easy. Now she would have to reconcile the estranged family before she could convince them to come to the castle. But she was running out of time. She had promised Reginald she would return with them by daybreak, but it had already come and gone.

  Henri again walked toward her. “Lady Evelyn, is there a problem?”

  “No, Henri, just a slight change in plans. Raymond, you will go and bring the parents back to the Dover Dove. Once you have done that, come and find me. I will be with the Lady Mila. Henri, you and your men will stay out of sight until you see me go up to the room. Any questions?”

  The men shook their heads. Evelyn disappeared into the alley.

  John led Sandra down the road. He held her hand so he could keep his eyes up and moving, or so he told himself. In truth, he needed to feel her hand. Her touch kept him grounded. “Okay, let’s work a grid pattern. We’ll go to one end of town and work our way up and down the roads. We don’t really have the manpower to do it properly, but at least it’s organized.”

  “You’re the boss.” She squeezed his hand. But John pulled her to the side of the road and into the mouth of an alley. “What is it?”

  He pointed across the road and down two houses. A man stood watching the traffic. He had a sword on his hip, a dagger in his belt, and a longbow on his back. He was waiting for somebody—and odds were, it was them.

  “Let’s try the other side.” They walked to the other end of the alley and checked the next road. There, three houses away, stood a big son of a bitch with a pair of broadswords crossed on his back. “It looks like somebody else has already started a search. When he looks away, we’ll turn right and walk casually away. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  John stepped from the alley and led her up the road. At the intersection, he led them left and scanned ahead. A hundred meters up, a heavily armed, barrel-chested man stood on the side of the road. His head swiveled, searching the crowd, then stopped.

  John gently guided Sandra in a slow arc that took them to the right, across the road and back toward the intersection. “I think we’ve just been made.” He felt her start to look over her shoulder and squeezed her hand. “Don’t look.”

  She stopped herself in time, and they continued to the corner.

  “We’re turning left. As we do, look at me. You’ll get a clear view over my shoulder. See if he’s coming. Big guy, ugly, brown tunic, too many weapons.”

  As they turned the corner, Sandra said, “Got him, and he’s coming fast.”

  “Let me know when he can’t see us anymore.”

  Sandra kept an eye over his shoulder. “Now.”

  “Let’s go.” John moved as fast as his leg would allow and hung a left at the next intersection. They crossed the road and took a right at the first alley. As they entered, he checked their six. The man ran into the road behind them. “This guy’s not giving up.”

  They exited the alley and made another left. They crossed the road and continued until they reached the intersection. He checked their six as they made a right. The man appeared in the mouth of the alley, but this time he was walking.

  “He’s tiring,” John said. “If we can keep up the pace to the next corner, we’ll lose him.”

  Sandra put on a burst of speed. They rounded the bend and slowed to a walk.

  “Nice going.” He gave her a squeeze as they caught their breath.

  “Our search pattern is blown,” Sandra said. “That’s for sure.”

  “We’re going to need to keep our eyes peeled for these thugs. Who knows how many there are? Why don’t you focus your attention behind us? I’ll watch the front.”

  “If you say so.” Sandra glanced behind them then tapped John on the shoulder. A familiar face walked up behind them.

  “The Lady Mila sent me to find you,” said Raymond.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  April 29, 1341

  As the sun came up, Mila sat at the side of a road, oblivious to the villagers moving past her and starting their day. A wall rose up at the end of the street, but it was the village wall, not the castle wall.

  The castle. Jess. Burning.

  Dammit. She forced herself to take a long breath and worked at replacing the thought with a memory of her sister alive and vibrant. Jess had an easy smile for everyone she met, and when she laughed, it was infectious. The lump in Mila’s throat started to swell and squeeze out tears from her puffy eyes. Even thinking of happy times couldn’t keep Mila from crying. Each memory came laced with the thought, But that will never happen again.

  Mila tried to recall Jess’s face in a desperate attempt to suppress the emptiness. Jess in the cage… too beat up, Mila thought. Jess leading the fight at the guide’s cottage… too bossy. Jess arguing with her at Annie’s inn… too bitchy. Jess having her back as always, on the hilltop… a bit nicer. Jess had looked amazing in the warm glow of the holographic numbers right before their time jump. B
ut the more she tried to picture Jess’s face, the more her mind drifted to the numbers floating above it.

  Was it really that simple? She told herself to get serious. It was her grief-stricken psyche grasping at anything. Jess was gone, and nothing would bring her back. But still… wasn’t it worth exploring? She couldn’t just give up on it. If she could hold out hope for Jess, she could pretend last night was just a bad dream. It wasn’t healthy, but it was one way to cope. Her mother had found a way. This could be hers.

  First, she needed to recover the MCV. Then she had to figure out how to use it. Even then it was a long shot. She had no idea how time travel worked. Was it like a train, and you just hopped on and off? Or was it more like parallel universes? She’d seen the advertisements on TV and thought, Hey, wouldn’t that be cool? She never figured she’d need to understand how it worked. If only she’d paid more attention to the parade of geeks that had tried to date her in high school. They would have known all about this shit. Suddenly, she had a new respect for the pocket protector brigade. Stop it. Work the problem.

  How would she find the MCV? The last time she’d seen it, it was in the chest in the carriage. That meant it was at the castle. But how would she get back into the castle? She glanced behind her to check if Raymond was still shadowing her. He was not. Maybe he’d gotten bored and gone home. Home. Her own bed, with its sun-warmed micro-fleece throw, beckoned her. She would sleep for a week if she survived long enough to see home again.

  The villagers making their way to the fields and market were beginning to glance in her direction and whisper as they passed. Mila stood and started walking back toward the square. Lady Evelyn had told her it was a crime to dress as a man, so she’d tried to keep her coif covering her hair and a swagger in her walk. But as she tired, the swagger diminished to the point where she was pretty sure she wasn’t even doing it. The weight of the crossbow on her shoulder cramped her back. Every few minutes, she shifted the weapon from one shoulder to the other, but it didn’t help. The chain mail probably weighed about ten kilos, but right now it felt like a hundred.