Keeper of the Black Stones

by P. T. McHugh

  “Outside his camp! He’ll be riding alone, and three men will come after him. We’ve got to save him, or this will all be for nothing. If Doc dies, I’m afraid the entire plan dies with him. Henry will never win this battle without Doc’s help.”

  “Do you know the way?” Reis asked, looking from me to Michael and back again. The distrust of a few moments ago had disappeared, to be replaced with cold calculation and expectation.

  Michael nodded. “We’re close.” He turned and looked at his men. “Two of you leave your mounts and take the cart. I’ll meet you in Bosworth.” Without a word of protest, two of his men climbed off their horses.

  Michael looked over at Reis, who hadn’t moved. “What are you waiting for? You three, grab the horses. My men will follow us in your cart. If we hurry, we can make it.”

  Reis swung suddenly into action, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and grabbing Paul’s bag from the cart. He jumped out, followed quickly by Paul and Katherine. The girl walked toward one of the war horses and swung herself up, gesturing for Paul to ride behind her. He didn’t hesitate either, climbing awkwardly up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

  I glanced at Reis to see that he too was mounted, and turned back to Michael.

  Then we were off, galloping toward the camp in a cloud of dust. I ducked low over my horse’s neck, praying for both speed and accuracy. Katherine and Paul’s horse raced alongside my own, and I looked over at Paul. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Katherine’s waist, but he was looking toward the road, shouting warnings about rocks and trees. Certainly not the same Paul I’d left behind. On the other side of them, Tatiana crouched over her horse, her hair flying behind her in a dark curtain. She felt my eyes on her and turned slightly, meeting my gaze. Her mouth quirked into a cocky grin and she winked at me–we were going to make it. We would save Doc.

  I looked back to the road ahead of us and prayed that she was right.

  After what I guessed to be fifteen minutes, Michael began to pull up. The road we had ridden appeared to widen here, and traffic was starting to increase. We were getting close.

  “There!” Michael shouted, pointing up the road. About a mile away, we saw tents numbering well over a hundred dotting the horizon, along with countless flags and pendants in a rainbow of colors. At first glance, it looked like the circus had come to town, with people and horses crowding against each other in the free space. Then the weapons came into view. Hundreds of swords, bows, spears, and shields were stacked up in the camp. Several canons surrounded them, and more lined the road beside the tents. This wasn’t the circus. These men had come to kill.

  Michael slowed his horse even further and looked to the sky, indecisive. I followed his glance just as a loud crack of thunder crash over our heads. It hadn’t begun to rain yet, but there was a storm coming. The sun had disappeared behind a formidable bank of clouds, turning late afternoon into evening. Mist was beginning to rise from the ground.

  We had found Henry Tudor’s camp, but we weren’t out of the woods yet. I glanced at the watch in my hand again, and a deep feeling of dread came over me. We were going to be too late. A crack of thunder broke over our heads, and my horse jumped forward. I looked down at her, and then back toward the camp, more determined. This wasn’t over yet, her actions told me. We still had five minutes, at least.

  “What in the hell are you waiting for!?” I shouted, more to myself than anyone else. I sunk my teeth into my lower lip and kicked my horse in the ribs, forcing her back into action. I retreated inward, trying to pass my energy and tension down to the horse, and raced to where I knew Doc would be.

  I’m not sure when my fear subsided and pure exhilaration took its place. Perhaps it was the sheer beauty of seeing so many campsites decorating the hillside. It could have been the caravan of supply wagons that stretched over and beyond the hill to the east, or it may have been the site of thousands upon thousands of soldiers and horses, riding freely and unencumbered between the campsites. To be truthful, though, I don’t believe it was any of those things. I believe it was the feeling of having a high-powered war horse running full gate right underneath me, nearly flying over the ground, in an effort to save the man who held the fate of the world in his hands. Knowing that in some small way, I mattered. And feeling the stones there with me, pushing me onward as though they were on my side. For that moment, I believed without any doubt that we would make it.

  To our left I saw several horsemen form up ranks and break hard in our direction. Shouts of warnings rang out from soldiers on horseback as they ran to intercept us.

  “Follow me!” I screamed, breaking right toward the forest. This was where we would find Doc. And I knew exactly where to look. He was just over the ridge, and he was running out of time.

  The Earl of Oxford nudged his mare to the left, asking her to move forward, around two maple trees, and into the shallow stream. He didn’t hear the three men behind him, didn’t see one of them raise his bow and notch his arrow.

  The Earl’s thoughts were not on himself, but the battle that was about to take place. His mind was playing out the upcoming battle, trying to decide how they should handle the danger Dresden and his men presented. He had pushed his own army hard to arrive here before Dresden had a chance to escape, and they would force Dresden and Richard into a battle now. Before they reached the iron works of London, and Dresden’s store of firearms.

  But would it be enough to win the day? Would his personal knowledge of the battle–and Dresden himself–outweigh Richard’s larger force? He still wasn’t certain, though he knew that his presence was the only thing that gave Henry a fighting chance. Without him–

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping and he turned, frowning. He saw no one, though, and had taken pains to leave his guards behind at the camp. He was alone, now, with time to think and plan.

  Turning, he urged his mare slowly toward the clearing ahead of them, his thoughts going back to the battle tomorrow and the idea that had occurred to him earlier in the day.

  “Stop!” several people screamed in warning. I refused to listen. Our horses raced between foot soldiers and mounted men alike as we made our way through the outskirts of the campsite and toward the tree line just beyond the crest of the small hill.

  I had a problem, though. My horse was starting to lose her power underneath me and I was starting to panic. I had pushed her to the limit, though I hoped she could keep going for just a little longer.

  “Almost there, girl, almost there,” I repeated over and over again, willing the animal forward. I steered her over a nearly empty stream bed and past several logs before pulling up on the reins, drawing her to an abrupt stop. There was the break in the trees that I’d been looking for. Doc had been here moments earlier.

  “This way!” I shouted. My horse, thankful to continue at a slower pace, made her way carefully through the narrow opening in the trees. For nearly a minute we crawled around small bushes, rocks, and juniper, small oak, and maple trees, searching for Doc.

  Suddenly my mind screamed for me to stop. I pulled abruptly back on the reins and looked to my left. There, inside a small clearing, I saw a lone figure riding tall atop his large horse. It was Doc.

  My body flooded with relief. Alive. He was still alive. Then I looked behind him. The three men were there, hidden in the trees. The bowman already had his bow out, the arrow notched.

  “Doc!” I screamed. This time he heard me. He turned his head, searching. The archer releases his arrow at the same moment. I watched as the arrow found its mark, striking Doc in the chest and throwing him out of the saddle and to the ground.

  I screamed again, this time in anguish. I was too late to save him, but not too late to watch him die…

  PART III

  34

  “No!” I screamed, leaping from my horse to race toward my grandfather. In the last three days, I’d found my world crumbling, been shot at, split the fourth dimension like an Oreo cookie, and la
nded in a castle five hundred years in the past. I’d rescued a fair maiden in distress, fought barbaric Danes and Medieval soldiers, and been abducted and threatened with torture. I’d been thrown in a dungeon, which I then escaped with my own brand of magic, run from a man trying to derail history, and raced recklessly through a land I didn’t know.

  All to get here in time. All to save the world and its history. And this was how fate repaid me? By killing Doc?

  That was too much, even for me.

  “No, no, NO!” I shouted, my fear and sorrow turning to anger. This couldn’t be how it ended–it just didn’t work. I reached deep and found the strength I was searching for, and doubled my pace.

  The crack of Reis’s rifle made me flinch, but I pressed on, able to think of nothing but my grandfather. As I ran toward his fallen body, I realized that Reis was running with me, casually covering my path with his rifle. Footsteps pounded along behind us as well–Tatiana, Katherine, and Paul.

  None of us was willing to let Doc go, not after what we’d been through to find him.

  I pulled up short and fell to my knees beside the only family I had left. Doc was lying on his side, the arrow standing straight up from his ribs. I didn’t touch him, at least not at first. My mind was still reeling from what had happened, and the identity of the man who now lay before me. The face belonged to Doc, but the rest of his body was that of a stranger. He wore a shimmering layer of mail over his torso and arms, and trailing down his legs to his knees. A dark red cape lay crumpled underneath him, with a black and gold leather jerkin covering his body. His mail was held together by small iron hooks, no larger than paper clips. They must have been expensive, I thought randomly–they were stamped with decorative symbols of birds, and quite beautiful. My eyes flew from this stranger’s body back to his face then, seeking the familiar, and I leaned forward, looking anxiously for any movement.

  “Jay… is he …?” I heard Paul’s question, and felt my friend drop to his knees beside me.

  I shook my head, staring at my grandfather in horror. He wasn’t moving, I could see that much. The arrow had struck him squarely in the left side, right below his arm. It would have sliced through his lungs to his heart. Still, if I knew Doc…

  I reached a hand hesitantly toward him, then jumped and pulled it back.

  He had jerked and coughed, and was now rolling over, blinking slowly. He drew a deep, shuddering breath, as if he was coming up for air after being submerged in a pool of water. The air came out as a sharp gasp when he looked up and saw me.

  “Jason?” he asked, frowning.

  I nodded, smiling from ear to ear. He could breathe and he could talk, and for the moment that was more than enough. I didn’t think I’d ever been happier to see him, frowning or otherwise.

  He looked at me, dazed, and then glanced over my shoulder at Paul and Tatiana. I followed his gaze to see that several other soldiers had appeared, and were now sliding off their horses to surround our small group. One of the men, roughly the size of a small mountain, came straight toward us. His arms were the size of railroad ties, and each was decorated with thick silver rings, which wrapped themselves around his massive biceps. He wore his dirty blonde hair well past his shoulders and carried an immense sword. He was the spitting image of Thor.

  He was also a Dane; I recognized the hair and arm rings. I whirled around, turning my back to Doc and spreading my arms protectively in front of him, and glared at the barbarian in front of me, wondering desperately who he was and what he wanted with Doc. A menacing growl grew in my throat, surprising me, and the man stopped, his eyes wide with shock.

  Then I felt Doc’s hand on my shoulder and heard his breathy chuckle.

  “‘Tis alright, son, he’s one of mine,” he mumbled. He released his grip on my shoulder and rolled onto his stomach. Taking one more deep, measured breath, he pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet. There he stretched to his full height, grunting as ligaments and tendons snapped and cracked.

  I stood up, shocked at this sudden return to health, and stared at the man I knew as my grandfather.

  “My Lord!” the giant soldier said with evident relief.

  Doc looked at me and gave me a wry grin before directing his attention toward the large soldier. “Trigva, I’m alright,” he said in a voice that seemed stronger than it should have been. He looked down at the arrow sticking out of his side and frowned, then grabbed it with his right hand. One twist and a sharp jerk brought the arrow out cleanly, as though it was no more than a splinter.

  My mouth dropped even farther open.

  “Kevlar?” Reis asked casually. I looked up at my bodyguard and friend, wondering what he was talking about. He’d made short work of the attackers, I saw, and had now come to see about Doc, bringing one of the injured assassins with him.

  Doc replied with a bark of laughter, then opened his cape and pointed to the mail underneath. “Yes, under a coat of titanium mesh. I had it made at home. I found it much stronger than steel mail, and a hell of a lot lighter,” he answered quietly. “With the added benefit of being conveniently arrow proof,” he added after a moment.

  He smiled brilliantly at Reis, quite proud of this invention, and then turned suddenly toward me, his face growing dark. I gulped audibly. I’d seen that look before.

  “Now, Jason, may I ask what the hell you and your friends are doing here?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

  “What?” I spluttered, not ready for the question. We’d just found Doc, for God’s sake, and seen him shot with a medieval arrow! Now he was standing there as if nothing had happened, asking me what I was doing here? My mind refused to deal with the quick turn of events, or the question itself.

  “You heard me, Jason. What are you doing here? And while I’m at it, how exactly did you manage it?” Doc glared at me, his eyes glowing with frustration, and I gulped again. I’d never seen him so angry before, and the fact that it was directed at me–for reasons I couldn’t understand–made me slightly uncomfortable. After all we’d been though, jumping through time to save him, he was going to get angry at me? It was all too much, and I found myself suddenly growing angry as well.

  “I saw you jump! I knew where you were going. And I also knew you were walking straight into a trap! Into this!” I flung my arm at the clearing, the man laying at our feet, and the arrow that now lay next to him. “I came here to save you,” I snapped, my voice cracking.

  Doc shook his head, his frown deepening. “How could you know any of that?” He paused, then made a chopping motion with his hand. “Besides, even if you did, it doesn’t give you the right to come barging in here, putting yourself at risk. Jason, you could have been killed, do you understand that, boy? And then what would I have done?” He pulled me roughly against him, crushing me to his mail in an enormous bear hug. I wrapped my arms around him, adjusting my face slightly to avoid the worst of the metal links.

  For a moment, all I could think about was Doc, and the fact that we’d reached him in time. My anger and confusion faded away, and I reveled in the fact that he was alive. Then the reason for our entire trip snapped into place, and I stepped back.

  “They were going to kill you, Doc, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

  Doc raised his eyebrows in question, and I plunged in. “They were sent by Dresden. Or Lord Stanley.” I outlined the quick version of what I knew–the kidnapping of William Stanley and subsequent blackmailing of his brother. The plot to capture Doc. And then the change in that plot, when I showed up and Dresden declared Doc expendable.

  At the end I stopped, breathing heavily, and glared at my grandfather, expecting some sort of response. He stared at me as though I’d just dropped out of the USS Enterprise, though, so I pressed on.

  “Doc, I had to come back,” I repeated stubbornly. If I repeated it enough times, perhaps it would get through his thick head. “I knew you didn’t know–that you thought Stanley was on your side–and–”

  Doc interrupted me, placing
his index finger suddenly over my lips, and I grew still. He shook his head slightly, glancing around him at the soldiers from his camp. Of course, I realized. I couldn’t say too much in front of his men, who probably didn’t know about the stones. I clamped my mouth shut, nodding my understanding.

  He turned to the giant soldier now, barking orders. “Trigva, I am unhurt, and it seems that things have changed around us. According to my grandson, we may have lost a valuable ally. We must meet with the captains of our guard, and anyone Henry cares to send. Set the meeting up in Henry’s pavilion, if you will.” He took in a deep, measured breath before looking back at me. “And Trigva, my grandson and his group will be joining us this evening. Please inform Elizabeth of their arrival and have her prepare their accommodations. They’ll be staying with me.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Trigva replied quickly. He bowed, and snapped for his men to mount up.

  As they galloped off, Doc turned back to us. His whole demeanor had changed, and for the first time I saw why the men and women of this time followed him.

  “We do not have much time,” he said sternly, looking around at us. “If Stanley has truly defected to Dresden’s side, he takes several thousand soldiers, as well as archers and horses, with him. This is…” he paused, searching for the words, and his mouth turned down in a grim line, “a problem. Still, I believe there is time to be civil.”

  He turned toward Paul, and simply shook his head in disappointment. Then he turned toward Tatiana. A corner of his mouth drew up in a wry smile.

  “You must be John’s granddaughter. He’s told me of you. I assume that he’s unaware of your whereabouts.”

  Tatiana lifted one eyebrow. “He doesn’t know I came, if that’s what you mean. He wouldn’t have approved. I wasn’t going to let him stop me.”

  Doc barked with laughter, then stalked quickly back toward our horses, snapping orders as he went. “Come, we must ride. None of you will say a word until we are back in the confines of my tent, is that understood? Once we are there, none of you will say anything about where you’ve come from or what you’re doing here. Agreed?”