Keeper of the Black Stones

by P. T. McHugh

  “Relax, Jay,” Paul cut in. “For tonight, just pretend you’re Robin Hood or something. Merry men living in the forest, and all that.”

  I snorted. “Merry men wearing green spandex is not my idea of a good time, Paul,” I grunted.

  He grinned. “Maybe not, but it made you smile, and that’s something.”

  I grinned back, relenting, and started pulling food out of my pack. We hadn’t eaten anything all day, and I was famished. The others joined me, and after a brief meal of bottled water, beef jerky, and cereal bars, we curled up with whatever we had, used our backpacks as pillows, and fell asleep.

  My last waking thought was of a countdown, hosted on an old bronze pocket watch. The next two days were what we’d been sent here for. The moment of truth. They had to go perfectly, or it would all be for nothing.

  Katherine put the clear tube of water down, marveling at its simplicity. It was like the glass she had seen in the church, but lighter, stronger … In short, just another of the wondrous and frightening things these strangers had shown her. There had been music makers, wonderfully warm blankets, strange, pressed bars of oats, grain, and honey … and then the astonishing weapons the man named Reis had held, which spat fire and smoke and killed men.

  She realized that any normal girl–any rational girl–would have been frightened. Terrified and running, no doubt. But she was fascinated. These people had a magic like nothing she’d ever seen before. They fought Danes, and won. And now they were after Dresden.

  She’d been mulling over the same question since the night before, when they had first found her. Run or stay? She knew the decision to run would be the wise choice. These people had to be practitioners of the dark arts, and were now wanted by the law. Something inside her, though, told her to stay. Something about these people–the boy, Jason–pulled at strings deep inside her. Strings she didn’t understand, but didn’t feel like fighting. She wanted to see where they would go, what they would do.

  Besides, she thought practically, where else would she go? She had no home. After her father’s death, English law declared that his property belonged to her, but the Bishop had declared her rights forfeit. He had told her–and everyone else, for all she knew–that the church had been given the rights of her father’s estate. His dying wish atop the hanging platform. In the Bishop’s version, Katherine, per her father’s request, was to be placed inside a convent. She knew that her father would never have said that. He loved her too much. But it was her word against the Bishop’s; a losing proposition if there ever was one. She didn’t stand a chance here on her own.

  So she would stay, then, with these fascinating strangers, with their odd clothing and odder food. Their sticks of fire and heroic mission. She would be associated with them, she knew, and branded a witch. But she would have an adventure. Finally, for the first time in her life, she would see the world outside her home and the surrounding villages.

  And she would get to take her revenge on Dresden for killing her father.

  Suddenly her mood brightened and the knots in her stomach subsided. For the first time in days, she lost the confusion that had hounded her. True, it would be dangerous, but she had a direction now. A meaning.

  Friends.

  She glanced to the side, where Jason was already sound asleep, and wondered if they would call her friend. She hoped so. She hadn’t had friends–true friends–in years. And if these friends could also save her life, and perhaps her lands … and help her find her revenge … she would do whatever she must to maintain their affection.

  At that, she smiled and ducked her head, thinking it was past time for her to be asleep as well. Tomorrow, evidently, was an important day for her new friends.

  26

  AUGUST 20, 1485

  I awoke to the feel of cold steel pressed against my cheek.

  “Get up, boy,” a voice above me growled.

  I cringed; I’d been having a pleasant dream, where I’d been in my bed at home, waking to the smell of Doc cooking blueberry waffles downstairs…

  Doc. At the thought, my heart stopped. I’d nearly forgotten when–and where–we were. I cracked one eye open, trying to adjust to reality. It was light out, and that must mean–

  “Now.” The rough voice cut through my thoughts, and my eyes flew open. That hadn’t been part of the dream, then.

  A dark figure stood over me, clad in black clothing and polished mail. His face was hidden in the shadow of a deep hood, though I could see the glint of his eyes. I didn’t recognize the voice. Of the most immediate importance, though, was the long dagger he clutched, its side lying against my face. He moved the tip of the dagger down my cheek now, along my jaw and under my chin, to rest it finally in the soft spot at the top of my neck.

  I climbed clumsily to my feet, trying to keep my chin as elevated as possible, and dropped the blanket to the ground. Shocked at this awakening, I let my eyes fly around the clearing.

  Over a dozen soldiers had made their way into our camp while we slept. Rough men now held Reis, Paul, and Tatiana, though Katherine sat in the middle of the group, on her own. These were hard, brutish-looking men, currently moving with purpose through the camp, going through our things. Capes the color of blood fell just below their knees, covering the black leather jerkins and gleaming sheets of mail on their chests and arms. They bristled with knives and swords, all shining dully in the early rays of the sun. These were nothing like the soldiers we had seen in Doncaster, who had been overweight men and boys dressed in rags. These were professionals, and following precise orders. They were well fed, cleanly scrubbed, and heavily armed, and their eyes reflected a cold hunger that made me shiver.

  These men would kill us if ordered to do so, and they wouldn’t hesitate over the job. And I saw now that they had been at work before they woke us. Not one but two heavily woven ropes, tied in hangman’s nooses, hung from a long tree limb behind my friends.

  “What exactly can we do for you, gentlemen?” I asked before I lost my nerve.

  There was an abrupt laugh behind me, and the dagger at my throat moved slightly as my captor threw off his hood. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, and then did a double take. He was no older than Paul and I. His features were as striking and sharp as the men who followed him, with dramatic black eyes and dark hair, cut just below his shoulders. A thin scar on his left check turned his mouth up to give his features a joyful expression. I assumed that this was false, and almost certainly unnatural. It probably drove him crazy. My mouth turned up involuntarily at that, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

  Me getting killed would, after all, defeat the point.

  Still, the fact that he was our age, as well as the odd feeling that I had somehow met this boy before, made me relax slightly. True, he was a soldier. But if he was our age, I might find some flexibility there. My eyes traveled slowly down his body, and back up. He wore black leather britches, with the ends stuffed into knee-high black leather boots. A black cape fell loosely by his side, completing the menacing ensemble, and in turn making him look like a fifteenth-century version of Darth Vader. I nearly choked at that thought. I’d definitely been spending too much time with Paul, to be making comparisons like that at a time like this. Still, he was barely more than a kid. Surely that made him a little less scary. A little more … gullible?

  “So you’re the horse thieves my men encountered yesterday,” he growled. “I must admit, though, that I have never seen horse thieves so … oddly outfitted.” He glanced around our camp, then yanked back on my neck. “Who are you?”

  My eyes flew to Reis, who lowered his eyebrows in a silent ‘no.’ What was I supposed to say? I certainly couldn’t tell the truth, and we hadn’t come up with a real cover story. After all, the original plan had been to avoid the natives.

  Before I could think of a reasonable reply, the boy behind me darted forward to grab Katherine, who had been sitting on the ground up to this point. He yanked her to her feet, his hand buried in
her hair, and slid the flat side of his dagger across her throat.

  I took an involuntary step forward, but another solider quickly grabbed my arms and yanked me back.

  “Perhaps you need some encouragement to answer my questions,” the leader snapped. He pressed down and Katherine gasped. A drop of blood appeared on the tip of his dagger. “Answer me, or I will kill this one and then hang the others,” he drawled coldly.

  “NO!” Reis yelled hoarsely. He threw his elbow into the soldier behind him and turned toward Katherine, only to be stopped in his tracks by yet another soldier. This one hit Reis in the gut with the pommel of his sword, and my erstwhile body guard doubled over in pain and dropped to the ground. In a quick motion, the same soldier brought his sword up and prepared to deliver the finishing blow.

  “Stop!” I shouted desperately. My mind raced, trying to get a handle on this quick turn of events. Stall, I thought quickly. That was always the first step in a plan. “I’ll answer your questions, just don’t hurt my friends.”

  The young soldier nodded as though he’d expected as much, and eased his hold on Katherine. “I shall make this simple for you,” he said quietly. He looked at me, then toward Paul and Tatiana. “I am going to ask you a few questions, and I expect answers. Honest ones. If I believe you to be lying, I shall kill the girl.” He shrugged casually, as if to assure me that killing the girl, or anyone else for that matter, meant nothing to him. A ball of ice settled deep in my stomach, and I shivered again. I believed him.

  That didn’t mean that I liked it.

  I nodded once, my mind racing. Where exactly were Reis’ guns and daggers? Were they within reach of any of us? My eyes darted to the side, running over the clearing and searching. The last time I’d seen them…

  “Who are you?” the boy suddenly asked again. “Have you heard of Lord Dresden? The lord of these lands?”

  At his words, I suddenly realized why I felt as if I knew this boy. It was his eyes, the expression on his face, and the way he tilted his head when he spoke. I knew who he was. I glanced over at Tatiana, running my eyes quickly over her stance to confirm my suspicion. The young soldier stood in the same way, and I nodded to myself. He cast the same shadow as his grandfather and, in no small way, his half sister.

  “Why exactly would that matter to you, Sloan?” The words shot out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

  The boy said nothing at my question, though his frown deepened. He hadn’t been expecting that one, I thought triumphantly.

  “That’s right,” I continued. “You may not know who I am, but I know exactly who you are. Your name is Sloan. Your father is Nicholas Fleming, or, as he’s called in this land, Lord Dresden.” I knew I was right–I’d learned his name through Doc’s notes, and his conversation with John Fleming. This boy had the look of his grandfather in his eyes, and the same arrogant expression as Tatiana. He would have been sent after us by Dresden, I thought, to bring us back alive–it all made sense.

  Of course they never would have found us if it wasn’t for the horses. That was incredibly bad luck. Still, there was nothing for it now. I glared at Sloan, who was staring back at me as though I’d just pulled out a ray gun and tried to shoot him with it. His expression had changed, if only for a moment. The cocky, arrogant look on his face had faltered and given way to confusion.

  “My Lord?” the man standing next to Reis mumbled. He dropped his sword to his side and stared at Sloan, confused.

  I gulped, hoping I was right. As long as Dresden wanted us alive–which he must, under the circumstances–we would be safe. I just had to convince this boy that we were who we said we were.

  “I’ve met your grandfather,” I continued, pressing my advantage. If I could keep him talking, keep him on board with the story…

  “He’s lying,” the soldier standing behind Tatiana said in a disgusted tone. He spat on the ground in disgust, then reached up and grabbed the rope that hung above her head.

  “No he’s not!” Tatiana shot back desperately, speaking out for the first time and tugging against the man.

  “It’s true, my Lord. What they say is true!” Katherine said in a surprisingly calm voice, as if injecting reason into an unreasonable situation was going to do any good. I shot her a surprised glance, and saw her eyes slide to the side. Reis’ bags lay on that side of the clearing, I remembered, complete with his personal armory. I saw now that Reis had somehow managed to inch his way over there, on the pretense of painful writhing, and had almost reached the bags.

  If we kept the soldiers occupied for another minute or two, we’d be in the clear.

  I glanced back toward the group of soldiers, anxious that they not see me looking at Reis, and gasped. The soldier behind Tatiana had dropped the noose around her neck and was now tightening it. This could certainly complicate matters.

  “I grow tired of these games,” Dresden was saying with a shake of his head. “If you will not answer my questions in a logical manner, I have no choice but to give you more adequate … motivation. String her up!”

  “Dresden is looking for me!” Tatiana shouted just before the rope went tight around her neck.

  Sloan turned to her, shocked. Another point for our team, I thought. “And why is that?” he asked skeptically.

  “Because I’m his daughter,” she said in a raspy voice, gasping against the pressure of the rope.

  I would have bet all the tea in China that Sloan wasn’t expecting that answer. He took a step toward Tatiana and released his grip on Katherine. She, in turn, staggered back and fell against my chest, wrapping her arms around my shoulders to catch her balance. Sloan studied Tatiana with cold intensity.

  “Who are you?” he repeated softly.

  Suddenly Reis had his guns. A roar sounded out across the clearing, and two of Sloan’s soldiers flew backwards before crumpling to the ground, dead. I dropped to the ground, taking Katherine with me, and prayed that Paul had the presence of mind to do the same. The minute my knees hit the dirt, I began shuffling as quickly as I could toward Tatiana, who was still trapped by the rope wrapped around her neck. Katherine crawled next to me, her shoulder at my hip. I glanced up to catch Tatiana’s gaze and saw her eyes flitting around the clearing, terrified.

  Then the gunfire stopped. I paused to look for Reis and found him on the ground, a sword held to his neck. Three more soldiers appeared in front of Katherine and me, hustling us to our feet. Tatiana stood stock still, and I could see another soldier pulling Paul roughly to his feet.

  “No more games,” Sloan snapped. “Tell me who you are, or you will all die, right now!”

  I took a deep breath. Honesty it was, then. “My name is Jason Evans.”

  “And where have you come from, Jason Evans?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he took in my outfit–an orange and gray rugby shirt, battered blue jeans, and red wool socks. Evidently my attire didn’t meet his approval.

  “Lebanon, New Hampshire,” I proclaimed, shooting him a wry smile. Something about the situation made me want to taunt him, though a part of me realized it was probably a bad idea.

  “Where is that?” he asked skeptically, leaning toward me. His eyes glimmered in curiosity, and I wondered for a moment whether he actually believed me.

  “About 5,000 miles east of here, across the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “They’re lying, your Grace!” one of the soldiers repeated, making me jump. Several others grunted in agreement, and the one holding Paul pulled my friend’s hands farther behind his back. Paul yelped in pain and fell to his knees.

  I gulped, thinking I’d pushed too far.

  “Silence!” Sloan roared. He turned back to me, locking his eyes to mine. His eyes sparked again, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. That was it–I had seen what I thought I’d seen. Curiosity. He was fascinated, despite himself. He didn’t like what we’d done, and he didn’t know if he believed me yet, but he wanted to. Now I just had to find a way to use that against him.

  For a moment no
one spoke. The soldiers around us stirred restlessly, looking to their leader for orders. The soldier who held me tightened his grip, bruising my arms and cutting off the circulation, and I squirmed against him.

  “I’m not lying,” I finally said. Waiting wasn’t going to get us any closer to Doc.

  “Why are you here?” he shot back.

  The truth, Evans, I thought. It’s your best weapon right now. “I’m looking for my grandfather.”

  Sloan studied me, trying to gauge if I was telling the truth. I looked steadily back at him, refusing to drop my eyes. Either he would believe me or he wouldn’t. If he did, we had a shot at living, at least for now. If he didn’t … I looked past him toward the two ropes that swung effortlessly in the breeze. Well, better not to think about that at all.

  “This boy and the girl are coming with me,” he said finally, gesturing to Tatiana and me.

  “But my Lord–” one of the soldiers muttered, stepping toward him.

  “Do as I say!” Sloan thundered. “I do not take questions from the likes of you! I was sent by my father to find these very people, and I will see it done!”

  “And the others?” another soldier asked softly.

  “Tie them up, throw them in the back of the cart. Take them to Lord Bryer’s estate in Nottingham. I will ride ahead of you with these two.”

  One of the older men frowned, but nodded quietly, and the soldiers began to manhandle Tatiana and me up onto our horses. Sloan mounted his own horse, and then turned to glare at his men.

  “Do not harm them, or it will mean your lives. I do not know what my father wants with these prisoners, but he wants them alive.”

  I looked back at my friends and shared one long, tense look with Reis, who nodded bravely at me. Then we were galloping away, prisoners of Sloan Dresden and his father.

  Reis watched Jason and Tatiana vanish into the forest, sending a silent prayer after them. Then he tamped down on the rage that had been building for the last half hour; for now, he had to keep his cool and wait for his opportunity. At some point, the soldiers around him would slip up. He just had to be ready to take advantage of them when they did. He took a deep, measured breath and tried to think clearly.