by Amity Grays
The thrashing and grunts from two unseen battles could be heard in the distance. Damn, he felt useless, but he would not leave her. He’d fought with the knights, and he gave them much faith. But no man or army was undefeatable, and he couldn’t deny these opponents had strengths.
The distant battles soon ended. Once again there was silence. He pulled Edeline to a stop.
They both eyed their surroundings nervously.
“Wait,” he said when he sensed she would move. They waited and listened.
The faint brushing of limbs was now somewhere behind them. The knights could be as silent as still water when they chose. It wasn’t them. “Let’s move this way,” he said, pointing away from the snapping twigs.
Staying as low as they could, they moved deeper into the woods. Every step they took seemed amplified to his ears. Yet they could be no quieter. Their luck would not hold. If they were to survive, he needed a plan.
“Edeline, we can’t keep running. I need to stop them. I need you to hide.” He scanned the area. A dead trunk with heavy brush offered the best coverage. “Here,” he said, motioning for her to follow.
“Dane.” Her eyes begged him to stay.
“I won’t be far,” he promised as her hand slid from his.
She curled into the shelter. Bright blue eyes, strained with worry, watched as he gathered twigs and debris from around the forest’s floor to give her sufficient coverage. It was with a heavy heart he covered their beauty.
He said a quick prayer for them both. Then he did what he did best; he became invisible.
Chapter Eleven
SHAKING VIOLENTLY, she prayed she made no noise, for certainly it would be heard. In the eerie silence, everything sounded louder—the quaking of the leaves, the normal settling of foliage, even the silence. The knights must have all moved on to battle or to run. Either way, if they survived, they’d come back for her…for Dane.
She closed her eyes, searching the silence for any clue as to his whereabouts. Why hadn’t he come back? Why had she heard nothing? Quiet or not, knowing he was there, shouldn’t she have heard something?
Minutes passed slowly, feeling like hours. Where was Dane? Was he fighting alongside the others, chasing their attackers away? Was he hiding? Was he hurt? Was he even alive?
She couldn’t take it any longer. Pushing away the brush, she rose from the trunk.
Death be the fate of fools.
Across the small clearing, heading back into the trees, a dark and unfamiliar figure stopped and turned.
How had she not heard him?
From a face as cold as it was striking, black eyes bore into her very soul, touching it, squeezing it, whispering her future in words felt but never spoken. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Chilled far beneath flesh and deep into the bone, she realized instantly the man was cursed with darkness.
Though slight to the point of question, his lips turned with a smile. Sparks of wicked delight flashed from eyes she’d swear were bare of soul. Though not held, she found she couldn’t move. It was as though the very roots of evil had broken through the ground and wrapped their spiraling arms around her, holding her captive.
From under his shirt he pulled out a long chain. At its end, dangled what appeared to be a simple stone. Resembling brown marble, it was not unique from others she had seen. Could it possibly be the stone of which the knights spoke?
Cold and baleful, he seemed somehow pleased by her uncertainty.
Reaching to his side, he pulled from his quiver an arrow.
Watching in an odd sort of fog, she found herself powerless. Somehow he’d stolen it all—her breath, her voice, her ability to think beyond the blinding wall of terror.
If this man was Death, she was not surprised.
Lifting his bow, he aimed straight at her heart, his dark, hollow eyes never leaving hers. They held her prisoner—imprisoned without chains. He could let go the string, and she’d stand still to take the arrow.
What kind of beast held such power?
“Edeline.” Her name fell from the monster’s lips as though it had been lying there teetering for centuries. Then, quickly redirecting his aim, he let loose the string.
Ringing with a deep and powerful whine, the arrow flew up toward the boulders behind her, missing Dane by a fraction of an inch as he jumped from the rocks, pushing her back and breaking whatever spell had held her bound.
Like a shield, he fell on top of her, protecting her while leaving himself exposed.
Over his shoulder, Edeline watched the black knight toss his bow and draw a long sword.
“Dane!”
Rolling to his feet, Dane drew his sword, blocking a direct plunge meant for his heart. Metal clashed with a resounding ring, the grunts of the warriors echoing the force. Planting his foot solid behind him, Dane heaved forward, pushing his opponent’s sword away from his own.
Though the sword swung to his side, the beast didn’t miss a step. With a sure and fluid motion, he twirled the sword back into another powerful strike.
Dane blocked the blade but was thrown off guard by the strength of the blow. He stumbled back toward Edeline—armed but unguarded.
In the stranger’s dark, soulless eyes, Edeline saw victory flash. Raising his sword, he charged.
Her heart stopped, yet her blood pumped savagely. From the blind depths of a spirit she hadn’t realized slumbered, courage arose, and with it a strength she’d never imagined she possessed. Grabbing from beneath the foliage a handful of earth, she sprang from the ground. An angry cry roaring from her lips as fury, stronger than her greatest fear, drove her directly toward the beast.
“Edeline, no!”
She heard Dane’s cry as her hand flew through the air, flinging the dirt into the eyes of their attacker.
Stunned by the charge and perhaps torn between reactions, the black knight’s sword lost direction as he turned in an attempt to avoid a direct hit.
“Stay low,” Dane yelled as he gained his footing and moved between Edeline and the now furious man.
Swords clashed back and forth as strikes flew steady, both men moving as though in a dance, one step matched perfectly by another. They’d learned fast each other’s strengths and weaknesses, making it hard to better their opponent.
Finally the swords collided and held as might confronted might. Edeline could do nothing but watch as Dane fought for his life and hers.
The sound of rushing warriors echoed from the forest behind her. With great relief, she watched her guardians emerge.
The black knight lifted his leg and kicked out toward Dane.
Dane stepped back, and the swords broke free. Within the blink of an eye, their attacker turned and ran into the trees, Dane instantly moving to follow.
“No!” Edeline cried, but he had already disappeared, Hemart and Roncin following right at his heels.
“Are you all right?” Lucas asked, offering her his hand.
“I will be,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the woods, “as soon as they return.”
Several minutes later they did, but they had found nothing. The black knight had simply vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.
Dane searched the last pouch but found nothing. Looking up toward the others, he shook his head. No one blinked an eye. It was what they were expecting—nothing, not a clue. Whoever sent these men had sent them as blank slates—untraceable, undefined.
“I’ve seen them before,” Roncin said, running his hand across his jaw as he studied the lifeless body at his feet. It was one of seven now scattered throughout the woods. “Their coats, their armor—they were on the battlefields near the ruins of Raud.”
“I remember. They fought against us,” Lucas said as he studied the man’s sword. “I remember the snake.” He lifted the slain man’s sword for the others to see. Burned into the handle was a small image of a cobra wrapped around a sword, its mouth wide open, its fangs bared.
“I, too, remember the symbol,” Roncin said. “I w
ondered its purpose then. I wonder it even more now.”
“Think they’re part of the same group we met this morning?” Hemart asked.
Roncin nodded. “I’m certain of it. The way they move. The way they fight. They’re together if not one.”
“Not hired men?” Dane asked.
Roncin shook his head. “Too much conviction. Their battle was about more than mere wages.”
Suddenly a vivid image of the same coiled snake flashed through Dane’s memory. Moving to his feet, he reached for the sword. “I’ve seen this before,” he said, pulling the sword closer, his stomach knotting with a heavy dose of unease. “I’m sure of it. Not the sword, but the emblem. I can’t recall where, but I’m certain it was in my day, and it was identical down to the last detail.”
Strange.
He looked back toward Edeline. What would be the odds that the exact emblem would survive seven centuries? Did it still carry the same meaning? Did it represent the same cause?
It was strange, and it troubled him more than he dared let on. But it was by no means the only thing troubling him.
The dark warrior had called her by name. There was no doubt but that she was their target. Who were these men who would go to such lengths to take Edeline? They were not her abductors, so how did they know she was the same small child who had left from their world only days prior? And how did they know of her importance and the power of the stone? But most disturbing of all—what in the world did they have to do with the twenty-first century?
“Did you…” Edeline hesitated, her eyes lifting to search theirs. “Did you see his eyes?”
The men stood silent. How could they answer and not say what was on all their minds. She had stared into the eyes of something touched by darkness and hollowed of soul. Their glimpse had been fleeting, but, yes, they had seen his eyes.
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Dane pulled her near and kissed her tenderly. “We should be going. Are you all right to travel?”
“I’m fine,” she assured, accepting his embrace and leaning against him.
She might still need him, but she’d proven that day she was stronger than even she had imagined. When he’d needed her the most, she’d dug down deep and pulled forth a courage that had likely saved them both.
Dane smiled, but the smile quickly faded.
He’d almost lost her. The reality of it hit him solid, and it had nothing to do with it being a nearly failed mission or the resulting consequences which would have followed. The pain came from near loss—personal and more devastating than anything he could have imagined.
The beast, the army—they would have taken her, used her to get what they wanted, and then who knew what would be her final fate.
“These men are a threat,” he said to the three knights, “in both your world and mine. I need to know who they are.”
“I know someone who might know,” Lucas said, “but it would mean another day’s travel.”
Looking toward the sky, Dane could see it held the promise of a coming storm. Did he dare miss it? If he waited too long, there would be no going back. Still, he had no choice. If the evil that hunted her in this world was bound to hunt her in the next, he had to search for answers, and he had to search now. He simply couldn’t risk them being buried in time.
The tall beech trees rose high above the low hanging mist. Branches, long and colorful, drooped down from the occasional oak. Small drops of dew broke free from their leaves as the small party passed. The moisture softened the foliage beneath, helping them move quietly over the carpet of broken limbs, leaves, and other sorted debris.
From the lush green trees, a roe deer suddenly wandered into their path. Instinctively the men reached for their swords. Large, unblinking eyes studied them suspiciously. The men relaxed their stance as their hands returned to the reins. Cocking its ears their way as the hair on its back stood on ends, the deer prepared itself for flight. With a single bound, it disappeared back into the woods.
They continued on, alert, watchful.
To Edeline it was like a magical forest—beautiful but mystic, full of known but unfamiliar creatures—deer, foxes, hares. Birds, as glorious as any picture, would occasionally appear from nowhere, their wings an array of bright majestic color, their soft chirps as delightful as a young babe’s laugh. She leaned back against Dane and breathed in the smells of the forest. It was her very own fairy tale filled with knights, mystery, and a dashingly handsome warrior. She smiled as she lifted her head to admire her escort.
Dane looked down, raising a curious brow.
“I’m happy,” Edeline whispered, lifting her hand to brush a light caress across his cheek.
He captured her hand to lay his lips gently across her fingers. “You amaze me,” he said. “After everything you’ve been through, you can still find happiness.”
“I think, perhaps, happiness has found me,” she said, holding his gaze.
Pulling her palm to his lips, he held it there for a long kiss.
She closed her eyes and snuggled against him, enjoying his warmth. She liked him, was attracted to him. He made her feel tingly and oddly happy, even in this era so polluted with peril. How stupid was that? After everything they’d been through, her thoughts were still mostly on Dane, fantasizing about being alone with him, about kissing him, about being held in his arms.
She snuggled even closer.
One would think her in…
Her eyes flew open as her heart performed a funny little flutter. Oh, God, is that what this is? Such a silly feeling. Such unusual desires.
Was she?
She was. She was falling in love.
Did he know? Could he tell? Did he feel at all the same?
Hesitantly pushing away from his chest, Edeline looked up and into his eyes. He smiled, his eyes warm with affection.
The flutter in her heart returned with a touch more flare.
Maybe he did.
After what felt like hours, they emerged into a small clearing. A peaceful little cottage sat within its center. It was simple but charming and completely isolated.
“This is it,” Lucas said, urging his horse forward.
Smoke rolled from the stone chimney, disappearing into the mist. Signaling warmth, it was a welcomed sight to the weary travelers.
The cottage, the yards—they were simply enchanting. There was a small woodshed in back and to the right of the cottage, its aging back leaning heavily against a somewhat weathered barn. To the left was a charming garden with a jumbled array of colorful flowers and high-rising stalks. Only its ever-evolving stone pathways gave any indication of orderliness. It was filled to its rims and overflowing with shows of produce.
Lifting his nose into the air, Hemart sniffed. “I smell supper.”
“Pray there will be enough,” Lucas said, casting his fellow knight a hopeful grin before dismounting.
The others followed suit, moving to the ground and tying their horses to the right-side railing.
It was exactly as Edeline had always pictured the countrysides of France—green, peaceful, and full of promise.
The door opened, and an elderly priest, stooped with age, squinted into the mist as he looked their direction. A broad smile lit his face as recognition emerged. “Lucas!”
“Father Michael,” Lucas said, heading for the door and the open arms which waited.
“What a marvelous sight for long-worried eyes,” the priest said, wrapping the knight tight within his embrace.
“It has been too long,” agreed Lucas, taking a step back and studying his friend. “You look well.”
“As do you,” acknowledge the priest somewhat sadly. “You’re a mighty welcomed sight in these troubled times. I fear your name each time I hear…news.”
“These are, indeed, troubled times,” agreed Lucas.
The smell of cooking venison rolled from the open door along with a sudden burst of welcomed warmth. It passed quickly by, and then was gone. Edeline, now standing outside t
he doorway with the others, shivered. Once again, the old priest squinted, taking a long hard look her way. An odd expression crossed his face. He chuckled to himself and then glanced back inside the door. “Please come in,” he invited them all.
One by one they were introduced as they headed into the cottage. “I am so glad you have come,” he said, closing the door behind them. “There is a fire burning and blankets to the side.” He pointed to a stack sitting on a small bench nearby. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I will throw some more dinner on to boil.”
But before he stepped toward the fire and large boiling kettle, he stepped to the back of the room to look around its corner. “It is safe,” he said to another.
All four of her escorts promptly stood to full attention.
From around the corner emerged a tall, regal-looking man with blond curling hair and bright gray eyes.
A chorus of three shocked gasps sounded from the knights.
“Omont!”
Chapter Twelve
“OMONT?” EDELINE REPEATED, staring at the man as though in a daze. Could this be her father? It seemed unlikely. He was so young. But the hair, a golden-blond mass of curls, was identical to hers.
Lucas hurried to him, pulling him forward into a warm embrace. “My cousin, I had given up all hope.”
Omont squeezed him tight. “God blessed me, my cousin.” He patted Lucas’s back and then pulled away to look at Edeline. “God has blessed me much this day.”
“I thought you mad,” the priest said apologetically to Omont, shuffling past him toward the brewing stew.
“I’m sure you did.” The man chuckled before walking to Edeline and drawing her hands into his. Looking her over from head to toe, he smiled. “My dear sweet Edeline, what a beautiful woman you have become.”
She looked down to where their hands joined. It was all so very odd; until a day prior, she hadn’t even known he existed. He was a stranger, but yet she could here in his voice, see in his eyes, that he cherished her beyond words. “Ah…thank you,” she offered awkwardly. She had no idea how to respond to this man who was her father.