The Blooded Ones

by Elizabeth Brown

  “So Finola spoke true. Pale Feather has returned,” Teyas said. Maggie nodded. “Do you think they will harm each other?”

  Maggie sighed. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to stop them if they do. Where are Makedewa and Chetan?”

  “They took Rebecca and Ahi Kekeleksu to the outpost for supplies. They should return soon.”

  “I hope so,” she replied. Teyas joined her on the bench near the window to watch the men. Maggie could see them talking, or at least gesturing at each other, but she could not hear since they were too far off in the yard. She hoped Winn’s brothers would arrive soon. They needed a distraction quickly, and the strength of the men would certainly come in handy.

  “What of his brother?” Teyas asked.

  “Hmm?” she murmured, intent on watching the men. “What of them? You said they’ll be back soon, right?”

  “No sister, I speak of his white brother. Benjamin. Is he truly here still, in our time?”

  “Oh…Benjamin. His brother.” It felt quite strange to make the connection aloud. “Marcus says he never returned to the future, that he found records of him in the past. I thought we’d be able to talk more about it, but I’m not sure we’ll get the chance.”

  Teyas shrugged.

  “It is no matter, we will all hear it soon. Get that bucket of water, sister. I think we have need of it.”

  Maggie flinched as the two men crashed together like a pair of titans, shoulder to shoulder, arms entwined. She grabbed the wooden pail and ran past Teyas into the yard.

  CHAPTER 3

  Winn

  Winn held his tongue until his wife and daughter entered the cabin. He surveyed his father silently during the interval. Yes, Marcus was everything Maggie had described him to be: an imposing Viking of a man with the face of a berserker, a man who could crush anyone who threatened him. Yet as Winn stood staring into the eyes that mirrored his own, he regarded him only as a coward. After all, the man had used his Bloodstone to abandon his pregnant wife, and with the way Marcus sniped about the Paspahegh, Winn wondered if the man had any regard for his mother at all.

  “Pale Feather. I hear of you, yet you know nothing of me,” Winn said once the cabin door closed.

  His father’s brows narrowed.

  “I know enough,” Marcus answered tersely. “And I know one lone Paspahegh is not enough to keep my kin safe. I won’t let Maggie stay with you if this is how you protect her. Those men could have killed ye both today if I hadn’t been there.”

  “You? You, of all, you question how I protect my wife? What of your wife? You left her like a coward, sneaking away with your Bloodstone!”

  Winn saw a flicker in his eyes.

  “Chulensak Asuwak? Ye don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sure she’s long gone with the rest of your people.”

  “My people? You speak of us like you were never Paspahegh!” Winn said, his voice rising with each syllable. How could his own sire behave in such a way? Or was Winn the biggest fool for expecting anything more?

  “Paspahegh, Powhatan, they’re all the same, and good riddance to the lot of them. Tell me what you think of them someday, when ye are hunted like a dog over a stupid old man’s vision,” Marcus replied, looking toward the house. “I’m here for one reason–to see my kin safe. If any of ye Indians get in my way, it will be the last thing ye ever do–no matter who ye are.”

  Marcus straightened up to his full height, which mirrored his own, and Winn tensed the muscles in his back as well.

  “So why marry a Paspahegh, if you hate us so much?” Winn asked, unable to hold back the questions he held buried for so many years.

  “What do ye know of that? Aye, it was arranged. It meant nothing other than keeping my head at the time, but she was a good woman, I am sorry to hear of her death.”

  Winn scowled at the causal manner in which his father dismissed his mother. He glanced back at the cabin. Maggie would be furious if he sent Marcus away. How could he ever explain it to her? Yet the urge to silence his father in a more permanent manner grew stronger with every moment in the man’s presence.

  “She lives. My mother lives,” Winn said quietly. He expected a reaction from the man, but the result was nothing short of disgust. Marcus scowled.

  “Your mother, eh? So she finally got what she wanted. Pepamhu, was it? That Nansemond brave is your father? I have no quarrel with him.”

  The words barely left his lips before Winn lunged at his father.

  They tumbled onto the ground, rolling in the dirt, neither willing to relent. Unbridled rage flowed from Winn like the surge of a dam held back, finally released by the harsh words from the man beneath him. Marcus would not be subdued easily, and Winn was taken aback by the fierceness with which he fought.

  Relentless and calculated, every move meant to advance his dominance while sparing the bulk of his strength for his final assault. Marcus broke the hold Winn had on his neck and sent him sprawling with a sharp knee to his belly. Winn rolled to the side before his father’s heel came crashing down in the dust where his head had just been, and as Marcus uttered a swear Winn grasped his heel and uprooted him with one swipe, knocking him flat on his back. They rolled and grabbed for each other at the same time.

  The man fought like him. Or did Winn fight like his father?

  “Stand down!” Marcus shouted as they each scrambled for control. Winn pinned him with one knee, one hand clutched around his throat. His chest heaved with the effort of catching a breath, his body unaccustomed to the effort it took to fight such a man.

  “You coward! I’ll kill you!” Winn yelled back.

  “I’ll take ye with me, Indian!”

  As Winn closed his grip tighter on his father’s neck he watched the man’s face turn purple, with rage or lack of air he knew not. Marcus kept his blue eyes focused on Winn’s as the breath left his lungs, and just as his lids began to droop, both men were doused in a stream of cold water.

  They jumped apart, sputtering and gasping for air.

  “No one is killing anyone today, idiots!” Maggie hollered.

  Winn wiped his forearm over his drenched face and looked up at his wife. She held the bucket at her side, her green eyes flashing with irritation, her long auburn hair rippling behind her with the breeze. Her chapped cheeks were stained with remnants of dusty tears.

  “Just stop it, okay?”

  Winn shook his head, more to clear his thoughts than to refuse her.

  “I’m sure Marcus will explain himself. And Marcus, you can hardly blame Winn for being angry–for Pete’s sake, you’re his father, and you just left with that stupid Bloodstone!”

  Marcus recovered his bearings enough to stand up about the same time that Winn also rose from the ground. Winn watched his demeanor change from rank anger to something else, something confused and guarded.

  “What are ye talking about?” Marcus asked, the words seeming caught in his throat.

  “Winn, of course! Didn’t he tell you? Well, then what on Earth are you two fighting about?” Maggie stammered.

  Winn stared blankly at Marcus. He made a harsh grunting sound.

  “There is nothing to talk about. This man dishonors my mother, he hates every Powhatan. I have no father.”

  “Winn, please –” Maggie pleaded.

  “Speak your words to my wife. When I return I will show you the way back to town.”

  He did not look at any of them again as he walked away. He feared what he might do or say if he remained any longer. It would serve no purpose to frighten his wife with more fighting. Yet if he stayed in the presence of his father any longer, he knew they would come to blows again.

  She would understand, he thought as he walked off toward the woods. Or at least she would have to put her objections aside until he returned.

  CHAPTER 4

  Maggie

  She did not move to stop him as he walked away. Maggie watched her husband take the trail toward the stream, and when she lost sight of his back through the tr
ees in the moonlight, she turned to Marcus.

  “Maggie–”

  “He’s your son. How could you leave him? And you lied to me–my entire life, you lied to me!” she accused.

  “I dinna know about him, I swear it.”

  “Don’t. Please don’t tell me any more lies,” she said softly.

  He swiped at the dust on his face with one dirty hand and shrugged his shoulders, which loosened the leather straps crossing his chest. She looked at the long-handled axe lying on the ground apparently flung off during the fight, and wondered if her oldest friend might have used it on her husband if she had not intervened.

  Marcus followed her gaze, and she heard him sigh.

  “I never meant to keep it from ye so long. Yer grandda and I decided it was not time to tell ye yet, and then he got sick…” he said. She flinched and pulled back when he reached his hand toward her, the crushed look on his face smashing her resolve into shambles. He dropped his hands and then crossed them over his chest in an awkward motion, as if he knew not what to do with them.

  “Go on,” she said stiffly.

  “Yer grandda and I–well, we lived here for a time. There were many of us then, the Indians called us Time Walkers. No name of our own doing, ye see, only what they knew us by.” She saw his jaw tighten and his arms clench slightly as if the words pained him. “Opechancanough turned on us, and many were killed. Me and yer grandda, we were lucky to get away.”

  She thought the ground started to sway, but it was only the sensation of her blood draining to her feet. He stepped forward and firmly took hold of her upper arm, despite her trying to wave him off.

  “My Granddad? You were both Time Walkers! You lied about that, too?” she whispered.

  “Nay, we dinna lie. We planned to tell ye… you must understand, the Bloodstone magic is dangerous, it can kill ye as fast as it takes ye to another time. We could tell you nothing, less risk all our necks. Until ye were old enough, at least, to know where ye came from. It was my duty to protect my clan. I failed many, but I saved some by taking them to the future.”

  “I don’t believe you. Why should I believe you now?” She wrenched her arm away and turned her back to him, unwilling to see the pain her words caused him. Never could she imagine she would be standing before him, this man she loved, spitting barbs at him as if there were no feeling left in her heart.

  “Believe me or not, lamb, that’s yer right. Ye know I came through time to fetch my son, ye see me standing here before ye. Have I ever failed you? Have I ever let anyone bring harm to ye? I know I deserve your anger now, but give me some credit. I’m still the man who raised ye.”

  She had no answer for that statement, trying her best to control the swell of tears that threatened to burst.

  “My parents. They were Time Walkers, too?” she choked.

  Maggie felt his presence beside her. She closed her eyes as he put his hands on her shoulders. He nodded.

  “They are gone, like many of the others.”

  “What happened to Benjamin’s mother then? Did she really leave you? Tell me all of it,” she demanded.

  “Young Helgrid. We were betrothed as children. She made it through to your time with us.”

  “Is she dead too?”

  “She’s gone. She left when Benjamin was a lad, I don’t know where she ended up. She couldn’t handle the future, not like the rest of us. But Benjamin–”

  “Your son is a good man. Both sons. Both are good men,” she murmured. She felt his fingers tighten on her arms.

  “Will ye tell me of him? Of them?” he asked. “I didn’t know about him–about Winn. His mother said nothing, you must believe that.”

  She sighed.

  “Put away your weapons, and go up to the house. Teyas will let you in. I need to find Winn, he deserves to hear this.”

  “I’ll go for the boy,” Marcus quickly offered.

  Maggie shook her head.

  “No, I’ll do it. He grabbed his bow before he left, I have no doubt he’d shoot your ass,” she muttered. “And Marcus?” she added.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t call him ‘boy.’ I don’t think he’d take that very well, coming from you.”

  She pointed to the cabin to shoo him away, and left to find her husband.

  He was not difficult to locate. She found him sitting on a flat rock that jutted out over the edge of the shallow stream, a secluded spot they used for bathing. She felt his muscles tense and then relax when she put her arms around his shoulders and sat down behind him.

  “Will you come home soon?” she asked. Her hands crossed over his chest, and he placed his hand on hers. When she pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, she could taste the bitterness of honeysuckle soap and salty sweat, the scent of the earth fresh upon his skin.

  “Yes, I will,” he said quietly.

  “He says he didn’t know about you.”

  “He speaks lies.”

  Winn caressed her hand with his thumb and then raised her hands to his lips to kiss her palms, one by one, hesitating for a moment over the faded silver scar knotted on her skin.

  “Come home now, husband,” she said softly, her voice lowering an octave.

  “I would cause you pain, ntehem, when I send him away.”

  “Don’t make him leave. At least talk to him first,” she urged.

  She felt his muscles stiffen beneath her fingers, his chest tensed as he passed slow shallow breaths.

  “Please. I’m only asking you to talk to him. If you still want him to leave then, it’s up to you.”

  He stood then and pulled her to her feet beside him.

  “Come on. I will hear his words, and then send him away.”

  Maggie kept her relief hidden as they walked back to the yard. Her husband had already killed one man that day, and Marcus another. Perhaps they could yet avoid more bloodshed.

  The threesome was sitting around the table when Maggie and Winn arrived, sharing the new batch of blackberry tea and passing around a basket of fresh bread. Kwetii sat happily on Marcus’s lap, gumming a piece of crust, while Teyas tried to persuade the child to take a drink. Maggie was pleased to see Teyas had scrounged up a white trade shirt for Marcus, and he looked as if he had cleaned up a bit.

  Kwetii squealed and held up her arms at the sight of her father. Maggie held her breath as Winn went to her. She could see it in his eyes as he glared at Marcus, the shadow of a strong little boy who grew up fighting for every scrap of respect he garnered. Sometimes loved, sometimes an outcast because of his heritage, Winn had lived as many lives as his Time Walker father, learning to adapt and survive no matter where his uncle sent him. Now as she watched her husband with his father, she wondered if there was any sliver of hope left for peace between them.

  “Here, lamb, go to your da,” Marcus said, urging the child to Winn. Kwetii climbed into her father’s arms and smothered him with sloppy kisses.

  “Hungry?” Teyas asked, breaking the silence. Maggie took a seat next to her.

  “Starving,” she murmured. Marcus and Winn did not acknowledge each other, but Winn sat down across from her and she was grateful he relented enough to join them. Kwetii babbled happily and picked at her father’s food, trying to help him eat.

  “Do you want me to take her?” she asked. Winn shook his head, barely raising his eyes in acknowledgement.

  The silence was blessedly broken by the door swinging open. Winn’s brothers returned fresh from a trip to the outpost, bags full of supplies slung over their shoulders. Rebecca and Ahi Kekeleksu followed close behind. Chetan halted at the sight of Marcus and put his hand on his young son’s shoulder, stopping Ahi Kekeleksu from going near Marcus. The boy stared wordlessly at them, his eyes wide under his thick dark lashes as he waited for his father’s command.

  “Chama Wingapo,” Chetan said slowly in welcome with a glance to Winn. Chetan stood motionless in survey of the stranger, his arms tensed at the sides of his thick-barreled chest. Maggie noticed the quick exchange b
etween the brothers; a slightly raised brow, a twist in the corner of a lip, and an imperceptible nod. It took only a split second for Winn to convey his approval to his brothers. Chetan let go of Ahi Kekeleksu.

  “Wanishi, friend,” Marcus replied.

  Maggie listened as the men exchanged cordial greetings in Paspahegh. She was by no means fluent in the language, but she had a conversational knowledge and understood a few of the words. She expected a show of surprise from Chetan when Marcus communicated as such, yet Chetan remained impassive. Always the calm one, Chetan regarded most situations in a peaceful manner, yet like his brothers, he was no man to tangle with. She had only seen him so provoked one time, and that had been immediately prior to the massacre when he helped save her from the English.

  “What are they saying?” she whispered to Teyas. Teyas rolled her eyes.

  “They act like wolves. They piss on their territory.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Maggie replied. The men continued to speak rapidly amongst themselves. She noticed Ahi Kekeleksu standing aside, focused on the exchange as he tore off pieces of his ration of bread and stuffed them into his mouth.

  Makedewa listened to the banter as well, adopting his usual disposition when matters annoyed him. The younger brother of the three, he was easily angered, full of rash temper and quick displays of aggression when provoked. He had become a bit less intimidating in the time she had known him, but Maggie still steered clear of him when he had a sour look on his face. Apparently he did not care for the tone of the discussion, his mouth clamped shut in a thin line and his arms folded over his wiry chest as he observed.

  Winn said something loudly, causing the others to fall silent for a moment. She could see the way Marcus clenched his jaw through narrowed lips. He looked her way, his eyes meeting hers before he spoke.