by Amity Grays
She looked back down toward Dane who had successfully found another path.
If she ran, she’d have no idea what she was running to or even from. And there was that part of her which wanted desperately to believe in Dane. There were times the man screamed reliable, honorable, and trustworthy. Perhaps he had been at one time.
He was the right age for the onslaught of schizophrenia. All of this, to him, could be very real. Perhaps he did see himself as her protector. But that still left the question—was he dangerous?
Years of her father’s preaching the logic of paranoia won out. She swung her body over the rock’s peak and made a run for it.
“Edeline, no!” Dane shouted from the distance, but she didn’t stop.
What kind of lunatic dressed like an ancient warrior and helped kidnap a woman only to then turn around and help her break free? Sick or just deranged, the answer was simple—the kind you run from.
It was an easy descent down as the backside of the rock was far less steep. Her feet hit the ground beside the trail, and she took off on a sprint, or at least as much of a sprint as one could muster in such ridiculous shoes. They were made of soft leather, long and pointed, with soles thinner than pizza crust.
Branches slapped against her face as she charged up the trail, but thankfully they grew sparse as the trail widened further up the path. Looking ahead it seemed unending. Her breath was already labored, and her lungs ready to burst. Tears filled her eyes. She wouldn’t make it, but she’d be damned if she’d give up now.
His arm circled her waist as he dove from behind. Together they fell to the hard surface below. She tried to crawl from his grip, but he held on tight, eventually forcing her onto her back.
She hit, kicked, and clawed, trying her best to break free. But in the end, her efforts proved to be in vain. He soon had her pinned motionless beneath him.
“Enough,” he ordered, lowering his head to rest beside hers. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
A shadow, cast from above, fell across Dane’s shoulder.
“What be your plans, young warrior?” asked an incredibly deep baritone from somewhere above…in French!
As the sun blinded Edeline to the figure, a sharp blade appeared against Dane’s neck, and shortly after, two more.
“Release her at once,” demanded another stern voice.
Two strong sets of hands reached down and made sure Dane complied.
Edeline scrambled to sit up.
Still somewhat blinded by the light, she could barely make out three new players. They were all speaking back and forth between each other in French, and not the modern-day French Father Tom occasionally spouted, but rather the odd-style of French spoken by her father.
How could that possibly be?
“I mean her no harm. I’m here to take her home,” Dane spat out in the same awkward French as he was pushed to his knees.
Edeline slowly looked up, blinked, and then vigorously rubbed her eyes.
Oh, frolicking forest of freaks, there were now four of them. Dressed in tights and wearing ridiculous cloaks. She turned and looked up the path ahead. She’d never make it. Her head fell into her hands. Sobs shook her body.
“You have been harmed?” asked a gentle voice. One of the men had knelt beside her. When she looked up, all she saw was warmth and compassion in his hazel eyes. He was, like the others, a large man. His long dark curls fell from a badly scarred but kind face. Oddly enough, it seemed somewhat familiar.
Tilting her head, she asked in the best French she could muster, “Have we met?”
He studied her slowly, his brows drawing together in confusion as first he studied her eyes, her nose, than her long flowing curls. “You do indeed look familiar. But I’m certain I’d remember such a lovely face.”
“Lucas,” another called, “has she been damaged?”
He looked toward her inquisitively. She shook her head as she untied her skirt and covered her legs.
“Nay, she is not damaged,” he yelled back before offering her a hand and helping her to her feet.
“I have committed no crime against this woman or any other,” Dane professed angrily. In one swift move, he ducked under his captors’ hold, rolled, and flew to his feet. They’d taken his sword, so he stood before them unarmed. He eyed the dagger which hung from the closest knight’s belt.
The man beside Edeline roared with laughter. “Best be watching yourself closely, Roncin, or he’ll soon have your weapon as well as your pride.”
Roncin snorted. “I welcome a challenge.” Motioning toward the man standing closest to Dane, he ordered, “Hemart, throw him back his sword.”
“I think not,” Hemart said simply and held his guard. He was the largest of all the men by far. His fierce looks exaggerated plentifully by his thunderous vocal cords. Even without a weapon, he’d be a formidable opponent.
“On your knees, you fool,” Roncin ordered of Dane.
“And find my head rolling forward? No thanks.”
Roncin glared, raising his sword high above his head. “A strike easily made while you stand.”
“No!” Edeline cried. She clumsily made her way down the hill to stand between Dane and the two men now guarding him.
“No? You wish to protect him?” Roncin asked, a confused scowl hanging between his brows.
“Yes…maybe…I don’t know.”
She looked behind her to Dane. “Why? Why did you take me from my home? What is this? Where are we?”
“Edeline,” he said her name softly as he took a step toward her. “You have to believe me. I didn’t take you from your home. I’m only here to take you back.”
Her eyes narrowed with rage. Still he chose to lie to her. Sick or deranged, either way he was dangerous. She stepped away from his reach and behind the other men. “I withdraw my objection.”
Roncin nodded and then raised his sword high in the air.
“No!” she cried again. “Wait.”
The man actually seemed intent on taking Dane’s head. “Are you all insane? I don’t care what this is. You can’t just go around flinging swords and taking lives.”
The man looked back over his shoulder her way. “You certainly are confusing, my lady. Make your claim. Is the man foe or perhaps…lover?”
She looked toward Dane, but he seemed more interested in the men’s cloaks than her declaration. His look of fear turned to one of hope. “I’m here at the request of her father, Federic Depuis, an honorable man and Templar Knight.”
Edeline watched as the three men fell frighteningly silent.
Good heavens, do they actually believe him?
“He’s lying,” Edeline shouted. “He’s delusional. He took me from my home, away from my father, who is no doubt worried sick. And believe me, though he is a prince, my father is not, nor has he ever been, a Knights Templar.” She knew the legends of the Knights Templar, and she recognized the symbols the three men wore across their cloaks. Was that the role these men were playing? Did they realize she was an unwilling participant?
“A prince?” Roncin repeated, his brows pulling together into one straight line.
“Edeline?” Lucas looked at Dane but moved her way. “I remember. You called her Edeline?”
She looked nervously back toward Dane. “Yes,” she confirmed, “Edeline Depuis.”
Lucas tilted his head and studied her eyes. He nodded his head as though agreeing to some unstated declaration. “Where are you from, Edeline Depuis?”
Dane shook his head in warning, his dark eyes once again filled with worry.
“Los…Los Angeles…California.” She could see Dane’s head drop as though handed a dreadful blow.
Three confused faces exchanged fleeting glances.
“And where were you born?” Roncin queried from behind.
She turned, surprised to find him so near. “A small villa in northern France.”
“And the date of your birth?” Hemart put away his sword and walked to her side.
Suddenly Dane se
emed like her safest option. She looked between the three hovering men toward the madman in back.
“No,” Dane mouthed the word, shaking his head adamantly.
“Ah…I don’t know,” she said, still staring at Dane, “for sure.” She wrung her hands together nervously as Roncin looked suspiciously behind him and then stepped to his right, successfully blocking Dane from her view.
“Open your mouth,” Hemart insisted as he lifted her jaw.
She jerked her head away. “What for?” she demanded.
“Your years, of course.”
“I’m twenty-four,” she snapped and tried to step away, but they simply followed her.
Lucas smiled. “So that means you were born in the year…” He paused and waited.
“Nineteen—”
“Edeline!” Suddenly Dane was behind her, pulling her away from the small hovering circle.
Roncin looked to Dane in disbelief. “Six hundred years?”
What are they talking about?
Edeline followed Roncin’s gaze to Dane. He looked sick, as though his world had recently come crashing down. “Dane?”
He ran his hands roughly across his face. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his hands and looked past her to the men. “Closer to seven, actually.”
Chapter Seven
“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.” Edeline looked toward the three men standing several yards away near the stream. “I don’t believe any of you.”
“I can’t say as though I blame you,” Dane said wearily before hanging his head and shaking it in frustration. “It’s the truth, Edeline. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
She could see he was thoroughly exhausted. Whatever this was, he was apparently unable to simply call its end. And no wonder. It was incredibly complicated. Every time she was given an answer, it only served to conjure up another dozen questions. For instance, if these men were all part of the same elaborate scheme, why wasn’t there any sign of recognition between them and Dane? No one was that good of an actor—always on mark, always on cue. And they were so eager for word of her father; eager, actually, to know anything about their lives. If it hadn’t been for Dane saying she’d had enough and pulling her away, she was certain the questions would still be coming.
Dane studied the men before looking back her way. “Look, Edeline, you’re going to have to trust me. As difficult as I know it sounds, you’re going to have to try. Ignorance in this case is deadly. You have to realize what we’re up against. You have to realize the risks are real.”
“I want to go home.” Her lips quivered. She was beyond tired, hungry, and her feet throbbed thanks to the horrid things these men called shoes. To top it all off, her head was pounding with idiotic tales of knights, time travel, and magical storms. With a whimper of surrender, she slid down beside an old beech tree.
Dane followed. “I can get you home.” Taking her hand in his, he gently held it as he looked toward the three knights. They were standing just beyond the falls deep in conversation. “But I’m no longer certain exactly what that will hold.”
So much for the warm fuzzies. She pulled back her hand. “Are you trying to scare me, Dane? If you are, you can stop trying. I’m already bordering on hysteria.” Unshed tears pooled in her eyes. She, too, looked toward the three men. None of them were the ones who’d taken her from her home. They were three new pieces to this already complicated and confusing puzzle.
“I’m scared myself, Edeline. But I believe it’s a good sign that I’m still here. If too much had changed, I doubt that would be true. I have a feeling we’re very lucky we stumbled onto these three men.”
Babble, it was all babble. As real as it was all beginning to seem, she had to keep reminding herself it was all nonsense. People didn’t simply fly through time, and there was nothing special about her. She was probably no more than a random, unlucky choice for this surreal disaster.
“Dane.” Taking back his hand, she covered it with hers. “Why are you doing this to me? Why the elaborate game? What can I do to make it stop?”
His eyes held hers for some time; then suddenly he chuckled as though stumbling upon a discovery. “Oh, Edeline,” he said, shaking his head and smiling. “I think I have an answer. I’m going to make you a deal, and you have my word, lunatic or not, I’ll honor it.”
Her brows pulled as she studied him warily. Perhaps this was the key to win the game. Take the key, and eventually it would let you out. “All right.”
“Play along.”
“What?” The gasp was real. The request seemed impossible.
“You heard me. If you want to make it home, you’ll play along. You’ll pretend it’s all real. You’ll do as I ask, and I’ll make sure you’re home within three days.”
“But…”
“In the meantime, if you see even one person who fits your description of normal, feel free to ask for help. You have my word I won’t interfere. In fact, I’ll help you to them.”
“I…” Looking toward the waterfall, she realized she really had little choice. The offer was the best she was likely to receive. And what, after all, could she do? She could try running, but where would she run? It was obvious to her now the woods were part of the game. The one hope she had, stirred by a belief quite strong if not rational, was that Dane wouldn’t hurt her.
She watched the three men suspiciously. They seemed harmless as well. In fact, they seemed rather sweet. But they, like everything else, made no sense at all. She sighed. “You won’t leave me alone with them, will you?”
“They would never hurt you.”
The tears which had pooled started to fall. She was exhausted. Good choice or bad, she needed to believe in him. “Promise me.”
His eyes softened as he reached forward and wiped away her tears. “You have my word.”
Dane’s jaw was beginning to throb. He tried to swallow but quickly gagged.
Hemart grunted and pushed his mouth even wider apart. “Hmm,” he snorted, tilting his head for a better view. His brows pulled together as he reached inside Dane’s mouth and tapped against the gold coating.
Jerking his head free, Dane snapped shut his mouth. “All right, that’s enough,” he said as the two men sitting across from them watched with great interest. What in the blazes had possessed him to mention the gold filling anyway?
“Teeth have always fascinated our dear friend,” Lucas grinned. “And yours are especially eye-catching. How do you do it?”
“It’s called good hygiene,” Dane retorted as he rubbed his now aching jaw. The three men once again exchanged confused glances. Though he dreaded more questions, he decided to explain. “We have men who specialize in the care of teeth.”
“And you are such a man?” Hemart asked, apparently fascinated with the idea.
“No,” Dane said, shaking his head, “but I visit them.”
A round of “ahs” and “mmhmms” were followed by poorly hidden smirks and snickers.
“I’m a soldier by trade,” Dane added, suddenly finding himself on the defensive.
“And a fine one, I am sure,” Roncin added right before he and the others threw out all pretense of good manners and simply laughed out loud.
Dane shot them a look of exasperation. So much for the belief Templar Knights were void of humor.
“I’m curious,” Dane interrupted their chuckles. “You don’t seem particularly surprised by the idea of time travel. I would have thought you’d find it disturbing.”
Roncin’s eyes lost their humor as they looked back toward Dane. “Nothing could be more disturbing than the atrocities which rule these days.” He shot a weary glance toward the other two knights. “Very little could now surprise us.”
“Roncin,” Lucas said, anxiously scanning the surrounding trees, “there is no reason we cannot tell him.”
Staring at his friend, Roncin quietly considered his words.
All three men were of extraordinary character—noble, honorable, determined—still Roncin was the one who
seemed to emerge as the natural leader. It wasn’t hard to see he took the role and all its responsibilities to heart. He was guarded. No doubt the times had made him so.
The Knights Templar was a remarkable group of men who had pledged their lives to a cause they held more valuable than life itself. And yet, seemingly without remorse, the men they had served, for the sake of their own selfish fortunes, had turned against them. Many knights had lost their lives for no more than their devotion, a devotion which had for hundreds of years served many kings and noblemen, including those who now sought to see them destroyed.
Respectful of Roncin’s position, Dane remained silent.
Eventually the knight nodded his agreement. “You are right, of course. If Federic can trust him with Edeline, I imagine we can trust him with what little we know.”
The knights all drew closer.
“The possibility of time travel is not new to us,” Lucas said, surprising Dane.
The shock must have shown, as Roncin smiled and quickly added, “Yes, it is against our most fundamental beliefs, and there was a time we would have denied it vigorously. But how can we deny what we have seen with our own eyes?”
Once again, Dane was taken aback. “You’ve actually seen it?”
“We were not sure what we saw,” replied Hemart, rubbing his eyes as if he were still trying to clear the vision. After a quick drink from his flask, he wiped his mouth against his arm and looked back toward Dane. “Against Federic’s wishes, we followed him to the cliffs below Brines Castle.”
“It was my decision,” Lucas confessed, his sad glance moving toward Edeline. “I was torn. She was so precious, so innocent. I knew it had to be, but I…” Dropping his head, he released a heavy sigh. “I am not certain why I followed. As for the others, they followed me.”
“And it is a good thing we did, or we would have thought him mad. What we witnessed was unimaginable. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it true,” Roncin said. “The skies held the white lightning rod still as it set the hills aglow. Odd shadows, not cast but still there and remarkably clear, danced across the cliff’s tall walls. Air, rain, and sand swirled into what looked like a long, endless tunnel. As we watched, the shadows told a story, but not of our world.”