Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (21 page)

Dallan’s jaw tightened, his twitch danced. “Dinna touch her!”

The man erupted into laughter. “
My dear fellow, touching her is all
I plan on doing. The more the better as far as I’m concerned.” He grinned sadistically. “And I’m positive the Maiden is going to taste as good as she’s going to feel. But then,
you never got the chance to fi
nd out did you? Too bad.” He licked his lips. “Perhaps after I’ve thoroughly
devoured
her, I’ll let you know how she was.” The mocking in his voice ripped at
Dallan’s nerves.

He watched the man’s expression change suddenly. His handsome features displayed themselves to Dallan, letting him see the charm the man used like a weapon, baiting and trapping his hapless victims. “You can’t do this.” Dallan growled through clenched teeth, his Scot’s burr barely noticeable in the threat.

“Oh, but I can. In fac
t, it seems I already have.” Th
e man spun on his
heel and began to stroll back to the carriage.

“No!” Dallan screamed. B
u
t the man kept walking and ignored him.  Dallan
watch
ed
utterly helpless as his
new-found
enemy got i
nto the metal carriage,
turn
ed and grinned back at him.  He then
off
ered
a mock salute in
farewell as
the carriag
e roared to life again and bolted
off with a screech of its strange wheels.

Away from the building.

Away from Dalla
n.

Away, with his helpless lass
inside.

Dallan instinctively struggled to his feet, surprised he actually could. Undaunted he quickly turned to his left, the direction the carriage had taken his lass, and toppled over due to the unexpected lack of resistance.

He scrambled back up and broke into a run
as the carriage rounded the fi
rst side street to his right. He spott
ed a narrow alley that cut
th
rough the buildings to the next block and leapt into it and ran
like the very devil was after him. In this case, however, it was he who chased the devil.

He ran as fast as he could, pushed beyond what strength was left him,
his chest burning with the eff
ort. He ignored
the physical pain
as he emerged fro
m the alley into the street. Th
ank the Saints
he
'd managed to cut them off
.

Seeing him
,
the carriage screamed and skidded
in an attempt to slow down before it smashed into one of the many tall metal pole
s spaced along the street.
Dallan
cringed at the sound of impact and ran toward it.  H
is only thought to get his lass out and as far away from the man threatening her as possible.

A faint sound caught Dallan’s attention as he ran, but he ignored it as he reached the carriage, his anger rising as he spied his lass trussed up in the back, still unconscious. The man who’d ca
rried her
looked at Dallan with a face full of shock. Dallan headed straight for him, at once noticing the door that obviously led to the man and his helpless lass.

A laugh from somewhere among the buildings penetrated Dallan’s thoughts as he reached for what must be the door handle.

The leader of the trio, mouth agape, cursed Dallan and quickly reached
to the fl
oor of the carr
iage for something. Dallan’s fi
st exploded through the carriage’s open front door window to land squarely in the leader’s face, stopping the man and felling him into the lap of the woman next to him.
He again reached for the door to the rear seat and pulled it open, the man guarding the lass too slow and in too close q
uarters to fend off Dallan’s fi
rst blow. The resu
lt a sickening crunch as his fi
st connected with the man’s nose. A second punch
sent the man slumping to the fl
oor, out cold or dead.

Dallan didn’t care which; his
M’eudain
was all that mattered now.

“Dinna move,” he threatened the woman in the front, who sat shocked and confused, her leader’s limp
form still in her lap. Satisfi
ed she would give him no trouble, he reached to retrieve his wee lass.

Out of nowhere a cold, dark dread swept over Dallan. His body shook in reaction as if he’d just fallen into Loch Linnhe’s icy water. He shivered as he saw the lass begin to fade from his sight, her body turning to empty air. “No! Ye canna leave me! No, lass, God no!”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! I knew dat would get you up!”

No. It couldn’t be. Not when he was so close, not when he had her in his grasp, nearly complete with her rescue…

“Boyeee, you sleep dru de day and into de night. Get up!”

 
It was.

Dallan sat bolt upright on his bed. Water dripped from his hair into his eyes and he had to blink a few times to clear his vision. Sure enough, an even worse nightmare than the one he was having loomed before him, staring at him with an all-too-familiar silly look plastered over his coal-black face.

“Ahhh, you are awake! We go. Go see de Councilor now, yes?”

Dallan’s face twisted into murderous rage, teeth clenched together, jaw tightened. “Get! Out!”

Kwaku laughed.

“Now!” added Dallan, as if the word was enough to get the Azurti moving.

“Yes, yes, I get out. You are to come wid me. De Lord Councilor has been waiting, Boyeee.” Kwaku’s words were interspersed with a generous amount of chuckling. “You come now, yes?”

Dallan knew Kwaku was trying to provoke him. He’d learned what to and what not to ignore about the heathen, and this was one of the things to ignore. Kwaku was just playing with him. John didn’t want him; in fact, John couldn’t have left more than a couple of hours ago. He looked to th
e window above his bed to confi
rm the time.

“No
… it couldn’t be.”

“It could, and it is. Well past de time for you to be gone, Boyeee. De Lord Councilor, he is waiting.” Kwaku explained again in all seriousness.

Dallan glanced at him, an incredulous look on his face.

“Yes, Boyeee. It is late morning. De day wanes. We must leave. De o-
dars
are waiting with de Lord Councilor. You come with me now, yes?”

Dallan looked up at the Time Master, his
warrior’s expression restored.
“Why was I left to sleep so long? You of all people should ha’ woke me hours ago. I’ve never been allowed to sleep through our mornings training before.”

Kwaku raised an eyebrow at him, sighed and shrugged. “I was instructed to let you rest, as de shoulder you so
unskillfully
defended de o-dar day was injured and needed time to heal.” Kwaku paused knowingly, a grin forming on his face. “I dought you stronger dan dat, and told de Lord Councilor so. But he did not agree.”

Dallan’s eyes narrowed in irritation as Kwaku’s brightened. “Ye dealt me a goodly blow, and ye well ken I defended myself as best I could.”

“Ahhh…” Kwaku began, taking a step forwar
d while wagging a fi
nger at Dallan. “Der you are wrong! Der is a much better way!” His look suddenly changed to one of scolding as he placed one hand on his hip, his feet spread far apart. “Not de clumsy way
you
tried.”

Dallan’s mouth fl
ew open, a biting retort at the ready, just as John Eaton entered his once-safe haven.

“Dallan, good. You’re up.” John looked at him more closely. “And washed too, I see.”

Dallan hadn’t considered his appearance until now. His hair still dripped from the cold water Kwaku had obviously enjoyed dumping on his head. The heathen stood to one side now, the dreaded water pitcher still in hand, trying his best to look innocent in the presence of the Lord Councilor.

Dallan’s eyes narrowed on him as he sucked air through his nose, his lips too tightly pressed together in pure aggravation to get anything past them.

“Dallan, we haven’t much time. Talk with me, will you?” John’s voice broke the mounting tension.

Dallan’s eyes slowly turned to the Lord Councilor, his words shoved through clenched teeth. “Aye, John, gladly.” He tried to get up but a sudden wave of dizziness pulled him back onto the bed. John raced to his side while Kwaku grinned, nodded to himself knowingly and turned to leave.

An action not to go unnoticed.

“What is it? Ye ken something and yer not going to tell me, are you?” Dallan pushed out, still unsettled at the unexpected dizziness.

Kwaku shrugged innocently. “I know no-ding,” he began as he walked out the open door. “Except dat you saw
her
in your dreams last night
, Boyeee.” He let out a horrifi
c laugh as his long legs carried him quickly away from Dallan, knowing he would not be able to follow.

The Call had come while
Dallan slept, and he still suff
ered th
e side eff
ects. Kwaku had used the Sco
t’s helplessness to get in a fi
nal jab and leave proud of
himself
.
Kwaku sighed. He would really miss his ancient Highlander.

He shook his he
ad regretfully as he went to fi
nd his beloved Zara, knowing the news he brought would please his lovely wife to no end: that for the last eight hours, he’d been standing guard over the Weapons Master, ensuring he was undisturbed, paying witness to a very private and much prayed-for event.
Dallan Keir MacDonald had fi
nally answered the Maiden’s Call. Kwaku, with Zara and the two Councilors, would all be leaving soon to take the Highlander to meet his future bride.

* * *

“I can’t believe they would do
this to me!” John paced the fl
oor of the small cottage he and Lany used for their m
eetings, his face red from unac
customed rage and helplessness.

“Calm down, Eaton. I know you’r
e upset, but wearing out the fl
oor isn’t going to get you home to your family. You know, this trip might actually do you some good.” Lany remained apathetic, which at the moment did nothing for his superior’s foul mood.

“A few days! It could be weeks! I wasn’t planning on going! I don’t want to go!”

“But you know you
have no choice.” Lany fi
nished for him.

John’s face fell. “I know.”

Lany stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “You know I can’t do this without you. I mean, not that I can’t handle Kwaku, Dallan, Zara, Angus MacNab, his mother, not to mention the Maiden. But you know how I hate being totally diplomatic to six people at once all by myself. It’s not as fun doing it alone.” He paused, smiling conspiratorially. “Besides, I have a little surprise for you.”

“Huh?” John mumbled as Lany walked to the door of the cottage, opened it and stuck his head outside. John heard him say something but couldn’t make out the words. He then heard footsteps approach the door and pause at the entrance as if waiting for Lany to move out of the way.

John unconsciously leaned forward as a familiar scent permeated the room. “Oh,” he began, craning his neck to see beyond Lany.

“John?” A woman’s
voice cried from outside, confi
rming John’s elation.

“The Creator
be
praised!” John shoved past Lany, not botheri
ng to apologize. “Anwen!” he stumbled
to her and grabbed her petite form. “Anwen…” he said again as he ran a hand through her dark hair and drank in her blue eyes. He then kissed her, drinking in much more than her eyes.

Lany smiled as he watched John and his wife embrace, then strolled across the cottage to an open window opposite the door.

Lany’s wife Cari stood on the othe
r side of the window, a satisfi
ed look on her face. “That went well.”

“Yes, very.” Lany leaned down and kissed her over the sill.

Cari reached up to brush a lock of hair off her husband’s forehead. “Who’s going to tell them we have to leave within the next twenty minutes?”

“Not me. Let Kwaku do it.”

Cari shook her head. “That would be cruel!”

“Oh, all right, Zara then.”

Cari nodded her agreement. “Why does John have to go with you?”

“B
ecause I don’t know beans about the Muiraran
Sutyne
and its formal ceremony. Eaton was the one briefed in Mishna on all of it. Not me.”