by P. T. McHugh
ABERGAVENNY, ENGLAND
The stone beneath him hummed and pulsed in time with his heart, beating as it bore him through time. The world rolled around him in a mad, chaotic parade of events, people, and places, and he held tightly to both sanity and courage. When the ride came to an abrupt halt, he stilled, forcing himself to breathe. Forcing his muscles to relax. He lay on the stone in Abergavenny for longer than he’d ever had to before, filling his lungs with oxygen and slowly exhaling, counting backwards in his head to control his heart and mind.
The world finally came to a standstill around him, and Doc opened his eyes. The jumps were becoming more difficult. It had never taken him this long to recover before, and it worried him. He wondered, for the hundredth time, about the physics of jumping through time, and the effects on his body. He had come to love his role in the past, and almost depend on it, but found himself wishing more and more often for a reprieve from the pull of the stones. Perhaps…
All thoughts scattered as his memory abruptly returned. He’d jumped in a hurry this time. Jason had been asking strange questions, and had nearly made him miss the window. What was the boy on about? Why the sudden interest and the obscure questions about time travel? Surely he hadn’t … Doc paused as more memory returned, and his breath caught in his throat.
The last thing he’d seen before the world went black in the jump was his grandson at the bottom of the ladder, staring at him. Jason had found his way into the hidden room. He’d seen the stone. He’d seen Doc make the jump.
Doc leapt from the stone and moved quickly to the other side of the room, turning to watch the stone for movement. No one had ever followed him through the stones before, and he wasn’t sure it was even possible, but if Jason had run forward and touched the stone while the window was open…
After several minutes, though, the stone’s glow faded to stark black, and the symbols returned to their places. Doc breathed a sigh of relief. Jason had stayed in the future, then. Where he was secure, and safe.
Doc, on the other hand, had work to do. He had to accomplish not one, not two, but three goals in a mere four days. He must work to gather an army, one large enough to confront Richard III. He had to lead that army into battle and defeat the old king, to ensure the safety of both history and the world. His thoughts touched gently on the idea of failure, and then moved quickly on. He didn’t have the time or courage to think about that, at least not right now. The third goal … stop Dresden by any means necessary. Doc didn’t understand what the man was trying to do, but he knew that it would bring danger–and perhaps devastation–to the world around him. The second goal, though, should end Dresden on its own.
Once Richard was defeated, Dresden would lose his sole supporter. His power would be eliminated. He would, in fact, be a wanted man. Left here to face justice for his actions, Dresden would end his story in the simplest way possible–by fading gently into history. Doc would return home and do his best to forget that any of this had ever happened.
At that thought, he went quickly about the process of rebuilding the Earl of Oxford. He found his heavy cloak in the corner of the room, where he’d left it prior to his trip home, then wrapped his belt around his waist and hefted his sword, measuring the weight of the heavy, thick blade. As he strode toward the door, his shoulders growing square and his hands flexing into fists, he felt the persona of the Earl settle over his body like a mantle. His face lengthened and lost the elderly softness he maintained as Doc. His mouth firmed, his eyes narrowed, and he stepped through the door into the past.
He didn’t find what he’d expected. Someone had evidently told Henry of the Earl’s presence in Abergavenny, and the bloody fool had taken offense. The erstwhile king’s men had arrived while he was absent, attacked the Earl’s own men, and laid an ambush for him. He’d already been facing an impossible task, with a scant four days to secure his goals. Now, instead of marching out to gather men and arms, plan the march, and prepare for the coming battle, he was being forced to report to Henry’s encampment to satisfy that man’s paranoia. The Earl shook his head in disgust. He didn’t have time for this, and neither did his mission.
His men were allowed to keep their horses and arms as tokens of good will, and so rode out of Abergavenny as guests rather than prisoners. The one hundred men surrounding them, each with a hand on his sword, spoke against this position of trust, and the Earl snorted. This fickle turn of events worried him.
He glanced anxiously at the road ahead of them, wondering how long this would take, and whether he would still have time to gather the men he needed. His eyes roamed the rock-faced hills above him, seeking answers. Jagged rocks, small trees, and brush covered the hills, making them an ideal place for a hidden rendezvous.
This was not a safe road, he realized suddenly. If he were setting up an ambush himself, he would seek a location like this. The hills were covered with trees and thick brush, ideal for hiding, and the road below was exposed and vulnerable. He had already wondered at his arrest, and now the possibilities seemed frighteningly clear. An exposed road, an indefensible position… His breath began to come faster, and he bit his tongue on the last thought. If someone were to attack them here, there would be no protection, no–
A sudden movement on the hillside ahead of him caught his eye and he stiffened, ready to jump to action. He squinted toward the movement, seeking desperately to find order in the brush. Then he saw them.
A band of ten armed men sat, observing, at the top of the small hill. They were not in a position to attack, and would have failed with such a small force. They were there, then, to watch. In the middle of the band sat a small man, dressed in black or dark blue. Even at this distance, the Earl could see the sunlight glinting off the blond, nearly white hair, and recognize the arrogant bearing of the man’s shoulders. Dresden, then, come to watch the arrest of his enemy. Standing in plain view, no doubt, so that the Earl would know what he’d done.
With that realization, the Earl found his true answer. Dresden had somehow managed to get into Henry’s camp and capture his ear. While he wasn’t putting the Earl in any true danger, he had cost him both time and strength–two things that were more important now than they ever had been. He began counting swiftly in his head, trying to estimate the damage, and making judgments and decisions as he came to them. The battle would happen in four short days. It would take a full day to get to Henry’s encampment and sort through this business. After that, he would have to gather his own men and those of his king, and push them as hard as he could to reach the battle grounds.
He would have to pray that they got there in time.
A grunt of frustration passed his lips. It would be a long shot, at best, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to do it. The road to battle–and the fight afterward–would be chaotic and dangerous, and many of the men there would die. They had no choice, however; if they failed to reach the battle site, Dresden and Richard would win, and history would be derailed.
Many of his men would die in the coming week, but their deaths would mean the safety of the world at large. If they got there in time.
He spared one moment to thank God that Jason was safe at home, in the future, with Reis to protect him. That, at least, guaranteed the family’s future.
16
LEBANON, NEW HAMPSHIRE
PRESENT DAY
Reis tore out of the private drive at about 80 MPH and took the onramp to the freeway on two wheels, his hands wrapped firmly around the steering wheel. I clung to the passenger’s side door, my thoughts racing along with the car, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Paul remained uncharacteristically quiet, wedged in between us.
“How long do we have?” Reis snapped. He swerved abruptly to slip Doc’s car in front of a semi truck, missing its front fender by mere inches.
My thoughts stalled for a moment, trying to understand Reis’s question. My head was a whirlwind, and didn’t want to settle. Then the answer was there, clear and bright. “The window ope
ns at 12 noon,” I answered quietly. “That gives us…” I looked at the digital clock on the car’s dashboard. “Less than two and a half hours.”
Reis nodded, and his mouth settled into a grim line. “And it takes over forty-five minutes to get back to the house. That isn’t going to be quick enough.” He stomped on the accelerator, pushing the car to speeds it had probably never experienced, and we shot past the other cars and trucks on the freeway.
By the time we got home, my hands ached from holding onto the door, and I thought Paul might throw up. We hadn’t slowed for stop signs, traffic signals, or other cars in the last twenty minutes, but we’d made it back safely, and in half the time it should have taken us.
More importantly, I had a plan.
“Your car’s gone,” Paul said as we pulled into our driveway. He was right; the body of Reis’ car, along with the glass, plastic, fiberglass, and metal that had exploded across our driveway only hours before, had been gathered up and carted off the property. The driveway was empty, as if nothing ever happened.
If I’d thought about it, which I hadn’t, I would have expected cops, a bomb squad, and half the neighborhood in our yard, courtesy of Mrs. Grey. We didn’t get gunfights or grenade launchers very often on this street, and it should have drawn a crowd. Instead, the neighborhood was quiet. Doors were shut, curtains drawn. Just another Monday morning in Lebanon, New Hampshire.
“I called a clean-up crew for damage control,” Reis answered casually. “Just some friends of mine. We don’t have time for a three-ring circus right now.”
“Cool,” Paul whispered.
Reis reached up to tap the garage door opener on the visor above him, and we pulled into the darkness of the garage. The heavy metal door banged shut behind us and darkness descended, leaving us in the soft glow of the single bulb swinging overhead. For a moment we sat, eyes straight ahead, mouths shut, staring at the back wall. Then Reis broke the silence.
“We don’t have much time.” He looked at his watch and turned to face me. “Are you alright?”
I stared back at him for a moment before replying. “Am I alright? I’m sitting here wondering if I can believe a word of this–if any of us can–and you’re asking if I’m alright? Are you serious?”
Reis looked away, then nodded as though he’d reached an agreement with himself. “If you’d asked me two days ago, I wouldn’t have been alright either. I wouldn’t have believed a word of this. But I can’t ignore what I’ve seen and heard here. And if we’re going to do this–really do it–I think we all have to believe, at least a little.” He cast me a sideways grin and winked.
I hadn’t thought I was waiting for his approval, but at Reis’ words the world started moving again and my brain kicked back into gear.
“Right,” I said, jumping out of the car. “In that case, enough of this sitting around and waiting. We have to get moving.”
Paul, who’d been crushed between Reis and I, tumbled out of the car behind me. “Where are we going? What’re we going to do?”
I walked quickly around the car and met Reis at the door to the house. I glanced up at the older man, then back at Paul.
“Our homework. I have a plan, but we need to know what we’re getting into.”
“Absolutely,” Reis said with a faint smile. “Good man.”
Paul whistled quietly. “I’m in, Batman. Where do we start?”
“Paul, get to anything with an internet connection. We know where we’re going and when, so at least that’s a start. Download as much information as you can on the Battle of Bosworth, and put it on your phone. Get into the War of the Roses, too. The players, the families, the time period. We need to know the outcomes, so we know where to go and what to do. Get anything you can on the people. How they talked, what they ate. I know a little, but we need details. We need to fit in as much as we can when we get there.”
I had walked through the kitchen toward the stairs as I talked, unwilling to waste time standing around. Now Reis grasped my arm gently and broke away from Paul and me, moving toward the front door.
“Wait, where are you going?” Paul asked
Reis turned. “If we’re going to go jumping into the past, I want to go prepared. I’m just going to grab the things we may need. In the meantime, don’t answer the door, and stay out of sight. We’ve already had one set of unexpected visitors today. We don’t need another.”
Paul gulped at the reminder. “How do you know they won’t come back once you leave?”
Reis stood quietly for a moment, thinking. He shook his head. “I don’t know, not for sure. But I’d be surprised if they did. Whoever it was came for Doc, or you.” Reis looked back at me and I held my breath, meeting his eyes. “I hurt them, and they’ll need to regroup. Then again...” He paused, then decided. “There are things I have to get. I won’t be gone for long.” He nodded quickly in my direction, then turned and walked away.
Paul and I stood in the kitchen, watching the door close behind Reis.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” Paul asked quietly.
I nodded. “I know he will.” I moved toward the stairs, ready to start my part of the research. Paul turned toward the door.
“Okay then, I’m going home to grab a few things myself. Do some research. When I get back, I’ll be ready to go.”
I stopped, surprised. “What do you mean? You’re not coming with us.”
Paul turned to look at me, hurt. “What do you mean? Of course I’m coming with you.”
I shook my head. “Paul, this is nuts. The only reason I’m going is to save Doc. The only reason Reis is going is to protect me. There’s no reason for you to come along and risk your life.” I paused, but plunged on. “I can do this without you, Paul. I don’t need you to–”
“Jay, you and Doc are my family,” Paul interrupted. “I haven’t seen my dad in over two years, and my mother…” Paul shrugged. “Well, let’s be honest, we’re not exactly the Waltons. You’re the brother I should have had. I’m not going to let you go running off into trouble without me. And I’m sure as hell not sitting at home while you have this great, life-changing adventure.” He gave me a crooked smile, but I shook my head. Paul was like a brother to me too, and there was no way I was going to let him head into danger.
“But–”
Paul cut me off before I could formulate an answer. “But nothing,” he said slowly. “I’m your best friend. If I were going, you’d go with me.”
He was right, and I nodded unwillingly. “I hadn’t really thought of it that way,” I said quietly.
Paul snorted. “Of course you didn’t, but you should.” He sighed. “Jason, I’m going. I’m not letting you jump into the past without me there to watch your back. Deal with it.”
He turned without waiting for an answer, and walked quickly to the door.
“Paul,” I said quietly. He turned, his eyebrows raised in question, and I shrugged. “As long as you’re coming along, do me one more favor. Look for my grandfather in the historical records. The Earl of Oxford. Find out where he’ll be and how he gets there. When we get to the past, we need to know how to find him.”
I walked quickly up the stairs, thinking. This was the first time I’d been alone in days, and the emptiness of the house echoed around me. I paused, listening to the familiar creaks and groans. This place had been my second home for as long as I could remember, and when my parents died, it had been a natural and easy transition to move here. In a time when the world itself seemed wrong, things in this house were familiar, comforting, and dependable; always in the place that made sense to both the object itself and those around it. It was, after all, the home of a physics professor. Everything had a certain order, reason, and location, put there according to the unendingly organized–and logical–mind of my grandfather.
I stopped mid-stride, one foot on a higher stair than the other, my eyes fixed on the hallway in front of me. The unendingly organized and logical mind of a physics professor. Of course. Suddenly I w
as running up the stairs toward Doc’s room, my mind racing. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. Doc had been traveling into the past for months, interacting with the people there, building a life with every trip. And he would have gone prepared. “Measure twice, cut once” was one of his favorite mottos. No way would he have gone trudging into old England without doing his homework first. And he always wrote everything down.
I just had to find it.
I skidded to a halt just outside his room and threw open the door. The rich, familiar scent of English Leather aftershave hit me like a ton of bricks, and I gasped.
“Try not to skimp on the aftershave there, Doc,” I muttered to my absent grandfather. “Never know who you might meet on the roads of old England.”
I snorted at my own joke, then walked to the old oak desk in the corner. It was the obvious place to start, and Doc had never been good at subtlety. Throwing open the drawers, though, I found only old photos of my dad and grandmother, miscellaneous receipts, a broken compass, an autographed copy of a paperback novel, and a signed Ted Williams baseball card enveloped in hard plastic. I glanced twice–and then three times–at the baseball card, and made a mental note to come back to it when I got home. The only other item in the drawer was an ancient bronze pocket watch, colored and pitted with age. It had an engraving on the back from my grandmother, which read, “My love for you is timeless.”
I smiled, then paused, rubbing the engraving with my forefinger and closing my eyes. This was Doc’s watch. I’d seen him carrying it when I was younger, and even had a blurred memory of him teaching me to wind it up. The heavy, rounded edges pressed against my palm as my hand clenched, and I opened my eyes. This watch had gone to my father at one point, and made its way back into the desk at his death. It had been here, waiting for me, this whole time. I unclenched my hand and glanced down at the watch, then took a deep breath and wound the key on the side. This was coming with me. I dropped it into my pocket and smiled. I’d always had a thing for watches. I could watch gears turn for hours on end. More importantly, though, clocks could tell you the time. Especially ones with manual winders, like this one had. Where–and when–we were going, that would definitely come in handy.