Ash gripped my arm. “My men will ensure they’re outside. We need to leave.”
Jared
Jared crouched behind a thick section of hawthorn hedge. As he’d hoped, the horde of mounted Saxon warriors galloped straight past him, following the sound of hooves ahead. They completely missed the trussed up Rowena too, and Jared was happy with that. Running back to the courtyard, ducking under cover every time he heard warriors approaching, he made it back in just a few minutes and then watched from the shadows to assess the scene. Widreth yelled instructions. More soldiers milled around, some leaping onto their horses, others dispersing with their weapons drawn. Marc and Bran had not moved. Marc’s eyes were shut, but Bran appeared to be watching the hall.
Had Lila found the
ghardians
? Where was she? His chest tight with fear, Jared crept closer. There were less than twenty men now. Still ridiculous odds, but improving by the minute.
Bran struggled to sit up. From his semi-prone position, he shouted to the warlord. “
Hai
, Widreth.” The Saxon didn’t even glance at him. “
Widreth
. My goddess will be angry at your treatment of me. She will call down a thunderbolt to smite you and lay waste to your homestead. Release us, or suffer the consequences.”
The Saxon turned at this and strode toward Bran. “Your goddess is weak,” he sneered. “The blood from your men will strengthen my harvest and feed my warriors.”
Bran’s head dropped to his chest. A moaning, humming noise started, audible over the crackling and roaring of the fires. With a jerk, he dropped his head back and yelled. “
Andarta!
Help your loyal servants, Goddess, I beseech you.”
The flash had the blinding intensity of lightning. The crash and rumble that followed were louder than any thunder. Jared blinked, his vision blurring and ears ringing. He ducked automatically and just in time. Fragments and wood and stone rained down around him. The grand hall trembled, as though nudged by a giant invisible hand, and began to collapse. The roof fell in first, and then the walls toppled, falling in chunks. Dust and dirt were thrown into the air in a growing cloud of choking debris.
Jesus
. Jared hadn’t been expecting it to be that severe. Where was Lila? Did she have Kai and Flavius with her? He hoped to God they were safe. He rubbed his face, realized he was rubbing the fine grit into his skin and tried to wipe the corners of his eyes so he could see more clearly. Dust lined the inside of his mouth, and he coughed and spat, wanting to clear his throat, to breathe more easily.
Bran and Marc were lost in the dust cloud. Jared scrambled to where he’d seen them, tripping over the carnage and fallen warriors. He reached the
ghardians
at the same time as Widreth did.
The warlord was staggering, blood pouring down his dust-covered face and producing weeping red lines over grey. His mane of wild hair fell around his shoulders like a white cloak, and one arm hung useless and twisted, but the other carried a heavy sword. His every move was intent on the two fallen men before him. When he saw the
ghardians
, he bellowed ancient curses and threats that Jared barely recognised.
Even with two functioning arms, Jared knew he was no match for the bloodthirsty warlord, but he drew his sword and prepared to fight. He only had to hold him off until the
ghardians
joined them. He weighed the sword in his hands, closed his fingers around the hilt, and adopted a defensive posture.
Widreth didn’t even see him. The Saxon’s sword slashed down, aiming at the two
ghardians
. It glanced off the stone flags with a dull crash, and Jared saw Marc had dodged the blow, rolling to the side and dragging Bran with him.
“
Hai
!” Jared snarled. “Over here. You take me first, you bastard.”
Widreth seemed confused, and Jared took advantage of it. Lurching wildly, he swung the sword in an upward arc and narrowly missed the Saxon’s good arm. He swept the blade down again, this time to clash against the warlord’s. The shock reverberated through Jared’s entire body, and he gripped the hilt with everything he had, trying to hold on as his opponent parried and then smashed into him. Another blow. Another hammering wave of pain that flew down Jared’s arms and detonated in his shoulders. Widreth was forcing him backward. Another blow. Jared staggered under the weight of the other man’s strength and scrabbled to stay upright on the uneven ground. The heat of the bonfire behind made his neck prickle, and he tried to rally, to hold his ground. The fire had to be close. Sweat poured down his face, and his legs were smarting and stinging. Widreth unleashed a shrieking war cry and swung again with what might be a killer blow, the momentum pulling him forward.
Jared blinked, unable to see for all the dirt washing into his eyes. This was it. His last thought was of Lila.
Lila
I was huddled in an outbuilding with Kai, Flavius, and several of the
ghardians,
when the explosives went off. The noise was unbelievable. Kai sobbed and clung to me, while Flavius stared open-mouthed and speechless.
“Thunderbolt,” explained Lieutenant Commander Ash. “Lucky we took cover.”
My heart hammered so hard in my chest, I was sure it could break my ribs. Where was Jared? And Marc? The scene in the courtyard was surreal. Against a backdrop of fire and smoke, the ground was now strewn with rocks and timber, grey ash glowing orange and red with the reflections from the flames. The dust was so thick, it felt like walking into a wall of particles. In seconds I couldn’t breathe. Somebody pressed a damp cloth into my hand, and I held it over my nose and mouth. It helped.
Saxon warriors staggered around looking dazed, or knelt and prayed to their Gods. The chaos was incredible.
“
There
.” I didn’t recognise the voice but I looked up and squinted to try and see. Silhouetted against the roaring fire I could see Widreth, sword high and on the attack. I tried to run but kept losing my footing. Widreth’s sword slammed down, and I heard it crash into another, the noise ringing out.
“It’s Wolf.” Kai ran beside me, nimble and swift. “And your friends.”
Marc lay sprawled over Bran, and tugged at his ropes, while several
ghardians
ran to their aid. Where was Jared?
I stopped, unable to bear what I saw before me: Widreth forcing Jared into the fire, beating him back step by step.
“No!” I screamed without thinking and staggered to them, unheeding of whether I tripped. Nothing mattered except stopping the warlord.
It happened in slow motion. Jared stood in the edges of the blaze, flames dancing up his back. Widreth charged for the killer blow. Jared dropped to one knee and twisted away. Unable to stop in time, Widreth plunged head first into the heart of the inferno.
I had to close my eyes. I could still see it, as though burned onto my retinas. The warlord screamed, the noise making me want to retch. As he flailed, his movements useless and engulfed in the flames, he dislodged the fragile stack of burning logs, and they tumbled to the ground. One landed on Jared, trapping him.
The log glowed red-hot, embers and ash burning into his tunic. I didn’t even think about it. I threw myself forward, took a deep breath and shoved my false leg underneath the burning wood to lift it, while I hauled Jared clear.
The smell of singeing hair and burning flesh filled my nostrils, and my stomach churned again. I slumped to the floor and ripped Jared’s smouldering leather tunic away with my bare hands. My prosthetic limb was ruined. It dangled awkwardly from my knee, twisted and ugly. I had never been so glad of it in my life.
Jared lay motionless. “Baby,” I whispered, running my hands over him. “It’s me. Lila.”
I heard someone shout for a medic for Commander Fleur. I heard Marc’s voice, low and in pain, and I tried to rouse Jared. He lay on his side, face into the stones, dead to the world. I fumbled for a pulse, and my hand slipped on something sticky. Blood. Oh, no.
Please God, no.
I blinked back tears and told myself it was probably Widreth’s blood. When my fingers closed over a hole in Jared’s neck and I felt hot liquid pulse under my fingers, I knew it was his. My lungs so tight I could hardly draw breath, I tried to shout for a medic. It came out as a whispery croak, and I tried again. “Medic, here. Please.” I ripped the cloth from my face, wadded it into a ball and pressed it hard against the wound. “
Medic
,” I sobbed. “I need a medic.”
Mischa appeared at my side, and I tried to speak clearly. “He’s lost a lot of blood. You have to stop the bleeding. You
have
to.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help him.”
I stared, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”
“We have to leave. Commander Fleur needs urgent medical attention, and Lieutenant Gallagher is seriously injured. We’re arranging an emergency med-evac portal, and Lieutenant Commander Ash has directed me to bring you. I’m sorry.”
“
Sorry
?” I kept my hands on Jared’s neck. I’d hold his blood there by force of will, if I could. “He’s coming too.”
Mischa shook his head and gripped my elbow. “You know the rules about natives. He stays. I’m sorry.”
I had a split second to make the unthinkable decision. Leave Jared here to die or take him through the portal and sentence him to ten years imprisonment. If he survived the jump.
“He’s not a native.” I ran my tongue across dry lips and regretted it when I tasted the dust and ash. “He’s one of us. This is Jared Grohl.”
Mischa froze. His eyes narrowed. “You told the Commander that Grohl had died.”
“I was lying.”
“How do I know you’re not lying now?”
I sucked in a rapid breath and kept my weight against Jared’s wound. Stop the bleeding.
Must stop the bleeding
. “I’m a credited historian—”
“Either you lied then or you’re lying now. I don’t have time to make the distinction.” He grabbed at my arm, and I shrank away from him. My hands slipped from Jared’s neck, and I bent low over him, cradling his head and trying to hold the sodden bundle of cloth in place. His blood was all over my hands.
“Find Flavius,” I screamed, remembering our old friend. “He will tell you. He can vouch for me.”
“I will vouch for you.”
I lifted my head. Mischa turned.
It was Marc. Hunched over, one arm wrapped around his chest, he leaned against another
ghardian
as though he didn’t have the strength to stand alone, but he was on his feet and breathing. He locked his gaze with the medic’s. “This man is Jared Grohl. Take him through the portal.”
New Oxford
Year 2552
Jared
Jared floated in a haze, intermittent lights and sounds far away in the distance. He felt cocooned, warm and comfortable, and was reluctant to move, but something nagged at the edge of his consciousness.
Lila
.
He opened his eyes to a bright room, the plain walls a soft creamy yellow. Hospital. Back in his own time. Fear clutched at his chest. Where was Lila? He moved his head and looked around. Alone. When he tried to sit up and couldn’t move, realisation slammed home: he’d been restrained from the shoulders down. His heart raced. It had to be the penal colony—already. No chance to appeal. No chance to see Lila.
Footsteps approached, and a tall man in white overalls smiled down at him. “Good morning. We need you to stay still a little longer, if you don’t mind. How are you feeling now?” The man didn’t wait for a reply. He began checking the readouts on the medical scanner over the bed and making some adjustments.
Jared forced his tongue to work. “Please tell me, is Lila Cammell here?”
The medical orderly glanced at him, a puzzled look on his face. “Lila who? I don’t recognise the name. Sorry.”
“Where am I?” He didn’t want to ask and wasn’t sure he wanted the answer, but he had to know. “What facility is this?”
The orderly smiled again. “Saint Margaret’s. It’s the standard Med-Evac Clinic for emergency jump casualties.” He ran his fingers up and down some monitors, and then looked back at Jared. “Ten minutes, and I’ll release the lock.”
What
? Had he heard that right?
“We’re just running some treatment scans, and the doctor will be through to talk to you soon,” the man said.
Jared blinked, confused. His brain felt as though it were stuffed with cotton wool and every thought process was a struggle.
“Oh, and you have a visitor waiting.”
Jared hardly dared breathe.
Lila?
“Shall I send him in?”
Disappointment washed over Jared and left a sour taste in his mouth. Not Lila. “Yeah,” he whispered.
“Grohl.” Marc hobbled in and dropped heavily into a chair next to the bed.
Jared focused on the ceiling and licked his dry lips, unable to look at the
ghardian
. “Please tell me, did Lila make it back? Is she safe?”
“Yes. She’s in another facility though.”
Sweet relief was instantly overtaken by fear. Before Jared could ask, the
ghardian
continued. “She needs some more work on her leg, so they moved her to a specialist clinic.”
“Her leg?” Jared turned his head as far as he could and stared at Marc. “What happened? Did she get caught in the explosion?”
Marc cocked his head to one side, a frown on his face. “You didn’t know about her leg? It’s not my place to tell you. But before you ask, she’s safe and well, and with her family unit.”
Frustration and worry burst out of Jared in a frantic rush. “What
can
you tell me,
ghardian
? Do I get a trial? A chance to appeal? Can I see her before you lock me away?” His anger subsided as quickly. It was useless. Everything was pointless. His life stretched before him, empty and sterile. He’d rather be dead than spend the next ten years without Lila.