The Shades of Time

by Diane Nelson

  He could see better than most in the dark, given his unique senses, but his men could not. Backing away, he ran at a crouch, keeping low, his joints protesting at the unnatural gait. He and Paulo had left their ragged group a half mile distant in a parallel gully to avoid chance meetings with townsfolk.

  Still light enough to see, he met Paulo, waiting at the narrow entrance to the gully.

  "What did you find?" he asked, keeping his tone low though the rough terrain dampened sound.

  "I went to the ridge opposite. You were right, Commander. The track's too steep, too loose for safe passage."

  Nico cursed silently. The abductors had chosen the site well. Likely they'd chanced on a long-held stronghold for the separatists. This spot was ideal, far enough away from the court to avoid routine sweeps by Carlos' Guard, yet close to the Rio Tagus and convenient egress into more accommodating territories. The town provided provisioning, entertainment, and eyes and ears tuned to strangers.

  Desperation crept with long icy fingers up his spine. The darkness was both enemy and friend. How could they use it to their advantage?

  "Come, let us confer with the others. We must decide now for a plan of action." Nico didn't say what he knew to be true … his brother would likely not last the night.

  Paulo chirped a high-pitched whistle, alerting the others to their arrival. Off to his right, Veluria approached with an armful of branches, staggering under the unruly weight. She gave him a wan smile and carefully laid her burden near a growing pile of deadfall.

  Curious, Nico glanced at Paulo who shrugged.

  Veluria explained, "Maso is building an enclosure for the horses. He said whatever happens, he has no wish to walk home."

  Nico chuckled. His men lived and died at his command, their loyalty beyond question. Fortunate for him he'd also chosen men with intelligence and initiative. It would do them well for what lay ahead.

  He instructed Paulo to bring Maso and Christo to the small spring near the southern edge of the gully. They'd set up a makeshift camp but could not risk a fire. They would have to make do as night fell, leaving the warmth of day to succumb to a pool of chill air settling into the basin. Maso had already cordoned off a section, allowing the animals access to water. There was little forage for the hungry beasts but at least they had the weak stream to sustain them until…

  Nico knew it was more an if than until with the odds stacked so solidly against them. Trying not to think about the woman and how he could protect her while trying to rescue his brother, he motioned his men forward and bade them to huddle close so he could speak without his voice carrying in the still air.

  Veluria propped against his leg, leaning close so as not to miss a word. It was an intimacy that raised eyebrows on his men but he ignored it as best he could. The warmth of her touch, and the rise and fall of her chest causing her breast to rub provocatively against his arm, was a distraction he could not afford. That she did it unconsciously did not negate the strong stirrings in his loins.

  Nico stretched a leg and pushed away, positioning himself so he faced his four stalwart companions, their faces hidden in shadow. He'd never been one to foolishly commit either himself or his men to a course of action that was nothing more than suicide, preferring retreat over valor any day. If he could talk his way out of conflict, he did, usually successfully. When he had to fight he waited until the odds on his side were irrefutable.

  Neither situation seemed to pertain, except…

  He stared hard at Veluria's pinched face and silently asked, 'Will he last 'til daybreak, milady?'

  Veluria rubbed her temples, her thin features a mask of concentration. When she hissed an audible breath, his men turned as one to hear her pronouncement. If they had misgivings about the silent communication between himself and the woman, they kept it carefully hidden.

  "I-I can't tell. I want to say yes but in my heart I don't think so."

  "Commander," Paulo spoke quietly, "we risk perhaps too much trying to take them in the dark, despite the element of surprise. They have position." Maso grunted agreement as Paulo continued, "And they have knowledge of the hacienda that we do not. Should we manage to infiltrate the building, we do not know where your brother is being held, how many are inside and what weapons they bring to bear."

  Christo added, "They could also kill him before we could get to him. Cut their losses."

  "We only assume they wish to hold him for ransom, Commander. They may have … other motivations." Paulo spoke the truth that had Nico's gut in a knot. The thought that Tonio might be simply a plaything for some sick perverts instead of a political tool hadn't escaped his attention.

  Again, they had no way of knowing. They'd left long before a ransom demand could arrive on his doorstep, and too little time had elapsed for Cosimo to become involved.

  Had he locked them into a maze with no exit?

  "I'd considered approaching as an envoy of Cosimo's, come to offer a fair ransom, perhaps buy us time and information about the hacienda. Demand to see Antonio before the exchange takes place." He and Veluria had mapped out that strategy as one among many options. His shoulders sagged in resignation. "Unfortunately we have no wagon, no conveyance of any sort that would maintain that artifice long enough for us to effect a rescue."

  "We are too few in any case. Under normal circumstances a full complement would have accompanied such treasure." Paulo waved at their group and sighed, "We do not qualify, I fear."

  Nico grimaced and took Veluria's hand. They had to join, to see what, if any, essence of Antonio remained. Her small hand squeezed his as palm-to-palm they shared their gifts, opening to their joint fears. The link only confirmed what each had determined on their own.

  Releasing Veluria's hand he said, "My brother is fading and will not survive this night. I am going in." He stood and faced his men, "I will not ask this of you. You have each proven your bravery … and your worth. No more is necessary. I relieve you of your obligations to me."

  He pulled Veluria to her feet and said, "Go with Paulo. He will take you wherever you wish."

  If we live through this, I promise I will bring him to you, M'lady, wherever you are.

  He turned away and stalked into the night.

  Veluria stood transfixed, unable to move let alone breathe. The man was foolhardy … and magnificent. And more than the others she understood that should he find Antonio so terribly compromised that living would be a burden, he would do the unthinkable. And then he would wreak a terrible vengeance.

  If you live, Nicolo, only if you live…

  One-by-one, Nico's men rose and gathered their belongings, adjusting swords and quickly setting the brush in a rough semi-circle around the grazing horses.

  Paulo came behind her and whispered, "It would be best if you stayed here, Madam."

  Shrugging, she reached for the short sword that Maso extended toward her. She nodded, though she was sure Paulo could not see the movement. Murmuring, "Yes, that would be best," she trotted after the men, their long strides covering the ground between them and their commander.

  Nico had taken the long route, aiming for the mouth of the gully in which they sheltered. She knew without asking that the man intended to try for a full frontal assault on the compound. He would rely on his strength and his ability to penetrate the minds of his opponents. She doubted even one so strong as he could handle more than one opponent at a time. It would be their job to provide a sufficient distraction to allow Nico to find his older brother before his captors decided to summarily execute him.

  Pulling alongside Nico, she huffed shallow breaths in an effort to stay even with the man.

  He hissed, "You should not be here."

  "You need me." He gave her a dismissive wave of his hand. "I can … offer a distraction." Nico hissed, "No," but she continued, "It is my job. It's what I do, Nico. Allow me to use my gifts."

  Waves of displeasure and something more rolled off the tall man but he did not argue with her.

  Paulo moved
to take point, the other two fanning out to the right and left, slightly behind her and Nico. A click brought them to an immediate halt. Nico had her arm in a vice grip as he moved to shield her with his huge body. Someone was coming toward them. As one the small group melted against the rock wall forming the east face of the hollow, small brush and a few straggly trees providing the only shelter.

  Nico sank onto his haunches, pulling her down to his level. Tapping his index finger twice on her arm, he let her know two men approached—but whether from the town or the hacienda was difficult to tell. The sounds of shuffling feet seemed to emanate from their left which would indicate the hacienda.

  Had they lucked out? Perhaps the men were bound for the pleasures of the town, leaving two fewer at the compound.

  The strangers were speaking in low tones, not bothering to mask their passage. They seemed at ease and strode with a casualness that indicated there was no urgency to whatever their plans for the evening might be.

  When they finally passed close enough for her to make out the words, she was able to catch only a word here and there, the rest an incomprehensible dialect.

  When the men had disappeared into the night Nico pulled her up and moved to speak with his group.

  Paulo hissed, "Catalanese.

  "I agree, separatists for certain." Nico turned to her and asked, "Are you sure of the number you saw at the inn?"

  "Yes, there were at least six, probably seven. I was trying to be inconspicuous and at the time had no idea as to their intentions. But yes, at least that many."

  "Let's assume seven. With those two gone, that will leave five."

  Christo said, "Two to patrol the grounds."

  Paulo interjected, "Perhaps only one. They seemed unconcerned. This is not the first time they have gone into town for an evening's entertainments."

  Nico agreed, "They've gotten lazy. But let's assume two outside." He touched Christo's arm and said, "You and Maso, front and rear, quietly. You know what to do."

  The two men melted into the night. Veluria asked, "What do we do?"

  "We wait, M'lady."

  Nico had learned patience at the knee of his formidable father. Being the scholar of the three sons of Cosimo de' Medici had awarded him the private tutoring and insights into the matters of state that so consumed the older man's interests. It had been Antonio who'd instructed him in matters of warfare and self-defense.

  His father he accorded the utmost respect and veneration for his knowledge and political acumen, but it was Tonio who commanded his allegiance. They could have been twins but for the five year difference in their ages. Ever mindful of their similarities, as boys they'd come to an unspoken agreement to go their own way, separate and equal, neither relying on their shared gifts to gain advantage.

  He long ago accepted Tonio's devotion and love for their youngest brother, in fact shared it, though with Tonio it approached an obsessive need to protect Stefano from the vagaries of their world—and the gifts both he and Tonio considered curses. It had made Tonio's abuse of Stefano all the more shocking.

  If they survived this hell they'd fallen into, he and Tonio would need to talk, seriously talk, about what had transpired that night. He'd been deadly serious when he'd warned his older brother that he would not tolerate such behavior. How far he would go to protect Stefano was not something he wished to think on.

  I can kill you later, Antonio. If you do that ever again … I can and I will.

  "Nico?" Veluria's voice had a shrill, uncertain quality.

  "I'm sorry, M'lady," he whispered. "It's nothing." Damn the woman for reading his thoughts.

  It's not nothing, Nico. I know what he did. And he will suffer for it 'til the end of his days.

  This is not the time…

  Maso appeared out of the gloom, wiping his blade on his tunic. He slipped the knife into the sheath and asked, "Where's Christo?"

  Paulo answered, "Not back yet."

  "He was right behind me. We saw only the one guard patrolling along the perimeter by the olive grove." Patting the blade he said, "I took care of it."

  Nico muttered, "Shit. Paulo, stay with Veluria. Guard her with your life." Unsheathing his sword he growled, "Maso, you're with me."

  Since nightfall, he'd been shielding himself from Antonio, deliberately cutting off all awareness so as not to distract his mind from the task at hand. But he couldn't continue to hide his gifts. He needed to find out where Christo—and most likely the other guard—were located before an altercation alerted the house to their presence. Tonio was ever in his thoughts, no matter the distance. For others, he had to be close, sometimes almost touching, before his senses kicked in and permitted his invasion of another's being.

  Being with Veluria had somehow accentuated his abilities, though he'd had little opportunity to test that theory. Now was as good a time as any to see if he was right.

  With one hand on Maso's shoulder he pulled the man to a halt and whispered, "Hold." Extending his senses, he scanned the still night. Not a sound—not insect or night creature—interfered, the beat of his heart the only accompaniment to his labored breathing. With effort he took shallow breaths, stilling his pulse. Tonio's essence wafted past, too weak to pinpoint.

  But you live, my brother. Just a little longer…

  He was about to give up when the faintest sound caught his attention. A chink of steel, gagging choked off, shuffling…

  Releasing Maso's shoulder he ran silently in the direction of a stand of carob trees, the outline clear against the night sky. They'd yet to round the curve of the hollow to where the hacienda would afford pale light through the many windows. As it was still early in the evening, it was best to assume no one in the household slept.

  Christo struggled to hold a small man squirming in his grasp, forearms locked about the man's throat but failing to gain sufficient purchase to finish the task. Nico idly wondered why Christo hadn't just cut the man's throat. The answer lay on the ground—Christo's blade had landed some distance away.

  He pressed the tip of his sword against the man's cheekbone and whispered to Christo, "Do you need help?" He thought he heard Christo mutter, "Fuck you," but couldn't be sure. Smiling he said, "Free him."

  Christo complied, though not without some reluctance. He pushed the man off and rolled to the side, grunting in pain. Nico saw that his jerkin and sleeve were covered in blood. He'd received a severe cut on his upper right arm—it looked deep and nasty—that must have hurt like hell when he applied pressure on it.

  Slipping the blade to the assailant's throat he drove the tip into the man's windpipe, just enough to let him know he was deadly serious.

  There was no time for verbal niceties so he slipped directly into the man's mind and demanded, How many are in the house?

  The squirming stopped, replaced by abject terror. Unlike Antonio who could sift through the strong emotions with impunity, he was often stymied by his victim's fears and misgivings, needing to expend time and energy he simply did not have.

  I will make it quick … and painless.

  "Th-th-thr—" It came out a choked-off gurgle as Nico drove the blade clean through the man's throat.

  Christo staggered to his weapon and bent down to pick it up, his fingers grasping the hilt but unable to grip it sufficiently to lift it off the ground. With a groan, he used his left hand and hoisted the heavy sword awkwardly.

  "You are of no use to us now, Christo. Go back to Paulo and take his place. Guard the woman as best you can."

  As Christo moved unsteadily to do his bidding, he and Maso stepped cautiously toward the house, mindful they might be spotted at any time given the lack of sheltering vegetation. Maso tapped his arm and bore right toward the hillside. A small wooden outbuilding that reeked of urine and worse lay behind the rear porch with a flagged stoned path leading to it.

  Candlelight flickered and wavered in the still air, throwing uncertain shadows onto the ground outside. The building had an air of neglect. Several window panes were m
issing and others were cracked; the porch at one time had been tiled but now lay littered with broken ceramic bits and dried vegetation.

  Whatever occupied the residents did not require wasting beeswax in the rear rooms. Though small the hacienda was likely laid out in typical fashion with a central courtyard surrounded by a colonnaded archway with rooms leading off from it.

  Paulo joined them, ghosting to a halt beside him. With a nod he acknowledged he understood when he motioned his men to the right and left of the house.

  But before he could take a step, a piercing scream rent the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Veluria sliced at the hem of her shirt, making a strip long enough to bind Christo's arm. The fabric was filthy from their travels but she had nothing better with which to tend to the man's wound. The slice was deep, nearly to the bone, severing muscle and blood vessels. The bleeding was less than expected given the nature of the injury, but she feared infection without the ability to cleanse the cut of dirt and debris. Even if the man managed to avoid complications, she doubted he would ever have full use of that arm again.

  Christo muttered, "That's fine, madam," and pulled away with irritation. Clearly he was unhappy about being relegated to sitting on the sidelines seeing to her safety. She had to agree.

  The piercing scream was like a dagger to her heart, reverbing down the walls of the gully. As one their heads snapped around, following the source of the sound. Christo groaned and struggled to pick up his sword.

  She cried out, "No," but the man was beyond listening to her. Even in the dark she could see the bloom of fresh blood on his tattered shirt.

  Shifting the heavy weapon to his left hand, he growled, "Stay here," and moved away, each step labored.

  Veluria hastened to Christo's side and wrapped her arm about his waist, taking as much of his weight as she could. He grunted, "M'lady," and gratefully accepted her help. They moved slowly but steadily through the now silent night.