Time of the Draig (4 page)

Then his mind wondered,
Are they men or warriors? Jeff and the mountain in front of me are certainly built like warriors.
He glanced up at the seven men in the distance. They were too casual in their observance of the talk; some stole quick glances, while others appeared to be busy but seemingly did little. No weapons drawn was the only fact that kept him calm. His men could easily reach him before the intruders, who did not appear to be armed.

Faolan answered the next questions with polite response. “The rains come this time of year in the late afternoon. Yes, the water in the streams is safe to drink, and yes, game for hunting is plentiful.” He asked his own question, “Where did you come from? I saw you . . . enter.”

Jeff answered only after seeking some form of silent approval from Samantha. His question was unspoken, but her head answered with denial. He said, “From very far away is probably all you need to know.”

“Do you mean to travel back the way you came?”

Though he kept eye contact with Jeff, he could see the woman’s agitation at the question.
Perhaps she does not wish to return with them.
Since she was no man’s wife, Faolan assumed the worst was true: Samantha was some form of prisoner.

Yet the newcomers outnumbered him, and no risks could be taken with his men. They still needed to regain his flock and see them back to Draig lands. But his conscience nagged at him. His grandmother would tear him to shreds if she knew he had left a woman in danger. He knew his dreams would be filled with the vivid emerald green of her eyes for many years to come if he did nothing. He wanted and needed to do something.

His hand went to the dagger tucked into his belt. With an exaggerated slowness, he pulled it into his hands. Faolan ignored the growl from the mountain and held the blade in his hand with handle stretched out toward Jeff. The dragon on the short pommel glinted in the morning sun, and its eye watched the proceeding with care.

Faolan turned the dagger slowly to show the same figure inverted on the other side. It was the symbol of his people: the winding dragon with a head on each end. “‘Tis mine by birthright. Take it in peace and leave me the woman.”

Jeff leaned forward with a hard glare. “I don’t think I quite understood you.”

“Aye, you ken. Trade me the woman for my dagger.”

In less than the blink of an eye, Samantha was on her feet with green fire shooting from her eyes. Her husky voice demanded, “What am I, some type of goat or something? How dare you presume to trade for me with that worthless thing in your hand? My father was the laird of lairds who commanded more men than you will ever see in your lifetime.” She turned away from him as if he were nothing and spoke to Jeff. “On your feet, Captain. This meeting is over.”

Jeff jumped to his feet. “Do I assume you have taken command, Major?” Even Faolan could hear that the question meant something significant.

“You bet your ass I have,” she said, and then she stormed back to their waiting men with the mountain at her back.

Jeff took several steps before he turned with a mischievous grin to ask, “Still want her?” Then he too walked away.

The rap to the side of his head reminded him of Kagen’s presence. His cousin asked, “What were you thinking?”

Faolan saw the disapproval clear on Kagen’s face. “I thought I was saving her.”

Chapter 4

“Was that outburst really necessary, Major?” Harrison asked when he reached her side.

Samantha stopped her stride long enough to answer, “Yes,” and resumed walking. “I have zero desire to be seen as a victim or as something that can be bartered for.”

Harrison was silent for a few moments before he said, “You sounded just like your father back there.”

A small moment of triumph was quickly replaced by the knowledge she had certainly made an impact on the timeline. But she was so tired of being quiet and holding her tongue when threatened. That had been the sum of the last few years of her life.
No more.
Her mind questioned the rationale of the presumed laird, and she shuddered at his probable intentions. Samantha was many things, but a victim was definitely not one of them.

As she reached the men, she found Weiler and commanded, “Break it down for me.”

Weiler had apparently heard her tirade and spoke with quick, efficient words. He told her of the basic supplies; each man had MREs for seven days, a knife, a sleeping bag, a change of clothing, collapsible shovels, short-range communicators, and biodegradable soap. There was one standard issue combat medical kit, four pairs of infrared binoculars, four sensor tablets complete with underground sonar, and her computer. She asked, “Does anyone have medical training?”

A man with a reddish crew cut and freckles stood before her. “Private Miller, ma’am. Class four medic.”

She glanced up at him. “Keep the med kit with you.” A class four medic was a rarity and should be able to handle almost any emergency medical situation. Silently, she hoped his skill set would never be needed.

Samantha turned back to Harrison. “I like your idea of a cave. We can use the sensor tablet to find one. I need a quiet place to work to find out what our options are, and these men will need shelter for the night. In fifteen, I want to be on the move. Have Private Weiler scan the area to make sure we don’t walk into anyone else. The safety of these men is priority one.”

Harrison replied with a quick salute. “Again you sound just like your father.” He stepped closer and offered in a whisper, “You don’t need to take command.”

“As senior officer, yes, I do.” She gave him a quick wink. “Don’t worry, I’ve read the manuals and learned from the best.”

Harrison smiled and turned to the men. “In fifteen, we are boots walking. Once in a secure area, we will talk and answer all questions. Make it happen, people.”

Samantha picked up her computer case and dusted it off. She sighed with relief to find it intact. Boomer’s quizzical expression caught her attention. She asked, “What?”

His laughter answered first and was followed by, “That was the last thing I expected.”

“What did you see, Boomer?” She referred to the other door opening in the lab. Boomer knew something big, and it was blatantly written on his face.

“No way, Sam. The captain is right. What will be will be . . . and all the rest of that nonsense.” Boomer’s reply came with a grin.

She was about to question him when another soldier called out, “We have incoming, Major.” His name badge read Joven.

Samantha noted the binoculars in his hand. “Corporal Joven, tell me.” She was careful not to look in the direction he did. There was no need to tip off a potential enemy.

With his eyes locked on hers, he replied, “Southwest of your back there are sixteen bogies with weapons hot. Well, swords in hand anyway. They’ve formed a semicircle around our new friends, out of sight in the forest approximately five hundred yards out and closing.”

“Are you sure on the count?”

“Affirmative, ma’am. Sixteen heat signatures, not counting the others we can see.”

Harrison was at her side immediately. “Do you think they are with our new friends?”

Joven replied, “Highly doubtful, but I can’t be certain. I saw what I presume was a scout creeping back away from the clearing. He made no contact with the party you met with.”

Samantha quickly assessed the situation. “We could potentially outrun them, but we would leave a large trail to follow.” She looked at the captain and said, “We need to go.”

Captain Harrison said, “I can’t believe you just said that. If we leave now, those five men are dead. There is no way they will survive combat at a three-to-one ratio.”

Her heart hurt at the thought of leaving anyone to be slaughtered, even Faolan. “I know that. However, this isn’t our battle because this isn’t our time or place. Our interference could be the beginning of a paradox, we could and most likely would change the timeline.”

“I hate to inform you, but your paradox already exists. Faolan and his men would have probably never entered, much less stayed in this clearing, without our arrival. Whatever they had planned changed because of us,” Harrison replied as he stared down at her.

How she hated that he was correct. The timeline had already been changed. As her mind calculated the possibilities of what offspring would be born to men who should have died and pondered the children the men about to attack would never have and the complications of it all, her father’s voice rang loud in her mind:
Never leave good men to die
.

Other than trying to buy her, their meeting had gone well. Faolan’s men had never tried to attack them or given any implication they would. It was the dark ages, and buying women was most likely common. Given a lack of proof of wrongdoing, she had no choice but to consider them decent.

“This could still be some form of a trap,” Samantha said. “I suggest we ask our new friends about the impending arrival. Quick way to find out whose side they are on.”

Harrison agreed.

Before he could say any more, she jogged to the area where they had met. Laird Faolan and his men were talking and retreating toward the forest and the approaching men. Samantha called out, “There are sixteen armed men approaching from those trees. Are they yours?”

Faolan immediately drew the sword from his back. “You have seen all of my men. There has been no deceit on my part.” He and his men moved closer to her as faint sounds of rustling came from the brush. He stared at her. “Do you stand with us or against us, Major Samantha?” There was nothing in his eyes that hinted at his earlier offer for her, only a hardness that spoke of readiness for battle—a look she understood from a life surrounded by military personnel.

With a signal from her right hand, her men were in motion and flanked at her back. She turned to ask them, “Does everyone have the hand-to-hand skills to take down a man armed with a sword?”

As silence and nods met her inquiry, she said, “Mark these men,” and pointed to Faolan’s companions. “For now they fight with us. Your goal is to take down the hostiles and capture any weaponry.” She pointed to Miller. “I want you in the rear guarding our supplies and primarily my computer. You are the only medic we have. Engage only if necessary.”

Harrison stepped up. “You heard the major.” He added quietly, “I would feel a lot better if you kept to the rear of the battle too.”

She offered a cold glare, and Boomer moved to her side. “Not going to happen,” and then the men poured from the trees.

“Get behind me, lass,” Faolan cried as the clearing filled with armed men. He knew who they were: those responsible for stealing his herd and most likely killing his father.
Today they will die.

When he turned to see if the woman had the sense to obey, he was stunned beyond belief to see her use her hands to signal her men into battle positions. Cold fear struck his heart as she stood at the center.
How can I protect her if she doesn’t have the sense to listen?

She uttered strange commands. “Delta formation, alpha zone attacks, and I want one left to question.”

Even as he watched the raiders emerge from the shelter of the forest, he saw her men move as he presumed she directed. The captain shouted additional commands that made no sense. Then the battle was upon them.

A fierce cry spewed from his throat as his sword met the first attack. There was awareness of all: the uneven clearing beneath his feet, the cool wind that blew on his neck, the sound of metal meeting metal as swords engaged in battle, and the fact that the woman had already taken one man to the ground. The corner of his eye caught a spray of blood from her prey. Then he lost himself to the battle as he realized the mountain of a man stayed by her side.

Chapter 5

Faolan cursed and fell to his back, knocked down by the massive blow from his opponent. The only good part was that the man fell on top of him, which spared him from the almost certain deathblow that would have followed. Both struggled for purchase with their weapons, and neither accomplished any real damage, though Faolan felt the metal blade score his side.

Daring the chance, his left hand found his dagger, and he plunged it into the man’s rib cage. As the attacker cried out in pain, Faolan pushed him off and ran his sword through the man’s heart.

Faolan was almost to his feet when he saw Samantha running hard at him. She shouted, “Get down! Now!” Falling to his hands and knees, he felt her booted foot on his back. His head swiveled to see her other foot connect with the chest of an attacker he had not seen, a man who held his weapon high in the air, a weapon that would have ended his life.

The man fell backward as she struck. Before he hit the ground, her dagger had cut his throat. He would never rise again.

His eyes scanned the clearing to assess where he was needed, but the worst was over. The battle was done, and there were sixteen raiders littering the previously peaceful setting.

As Samantha cried, “Drop your weapon now, soldier!” he turned to see one of her men engaged in combat with his cousin, Kagen.

To his disbelief, she ran full force at her man and took him to the ground with her slight frame by tackling him just below the waist. In a heartbeat, the man was on his stomach, but Kagen’s sword was still in motion.

Faolan cried, “Kagen, stop!” He could see the arch of the blade shift, but not enough. He screamed as the weapon cut the arm of the woman he had tried to protect.

She barely acknowledged the injury as she held her man to the ground; her small body somehow kept the larger man from moving. Faolan, who was standing in front of Kagen, heard her say, “This is over, Corporal. Do you hear me? This is over, so drop your weapon now!”

His heart hammered in his chest as the man struggled beneath her commands, and he held his sword in hand, ready to strike should the man attempt any harm. The corporal finally released the sword and had the audacity to laugh.

Samantha slowly rose from his back in an obvious show of her superior force. “I’m going to assume you were carried away and didn’t mean to harm men who went into battle at our side.”

The corporal rose and stared down at her with rage burning in his eyes. “Okay, let’s go with that.” The look on his face did not speak of peace; Faolan could see the disrespect in his glare.

Jeff spoke as he approached, “Corporal Jensen, when the major speaks to you, answer correctly.”

The man scowled at Jeff and Samantha. “Or what, you’ll put me on report?”

Samantha surprised him as her dagger was immediately raised to the man’s throat. “No reports or brigs here, Corporal. You either follow orders, or we leave you behind. But the supplies stay with us. Feel like making a go of it alone in the dark ages?”

Faolan could see the man mulling his choices and not happy with either. Jeff added, “I know you and will not put up with your shit. Do you understand me?”

The corporal glared at Samantha. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then report to Private Miller and have those cuts attended,” Jeff said as Samantha lowered her dagger.

She turned to face Kagen. “My apologies.”

Kagen reached out to offer a light touch to her left arm. “How badly did I hurt you?” Faolan hated his cousin at the moment for the excuse to touch her flesh.

Samantha replied, “It’s only a scratch, no real harm done. Thanks for leaving my arm intact.”

Jeff interrupted them. “Laird Faolan, we need to see to our men, and I suggest you do the same.” With that, he nodded to Samantha, and they turned to walk toward their cluster of men.

Faolan called out, “Major Samantha, may we speak?”

Samantha motioned for Jeff to continue without her. “What do you want?” Her tone held none of the warmth he would have wished.

As her green gaze fixed on him, he wanted to say that he wanted her, but knew that to be a mistake. “I meant no harm. ‘Twas my belief you were a prisoner of these men and in need of aid.” His voice softened as she blinked in clear surprise. “I can see the exhaustion in your eyes and that you have nay seen the sun in too many a day. I would have never harmed you.”

For a brief flash, her hard green glare relaxed, and she looked at him as if she believed what he had spoken. Then she bent to retrieve a fallen sword from the ground, and a hard emerald glare met his when she rose. Her voice remained cold. “Now we both know you would have never touched me.”

Appalled to hear she believed him capable of seeking to take what was not offered, he said, “I swear that you would have been safe with me and treated as an honored guest within my walls.”

Bitter laughter met his ears. “Yeah, right. I’m sure that was your intention.”

Before he could say more, she turned and left him standing in the middle of a field full of dead men.

Do I believe him?
She wanted to think it didn’t matter, yet for some reason it did. Samantha tried to look at the situation with an analytical eye. That she was pale and exhausted was an understatement. It had been more than two months since her last visit above ground, and sleep was something that happened in three- to four-hour chunks every thirty hours or so. She had arrived in the location with the compliments of a toss from Boomer and then yelled at him to get off her, not exactly making her look like the commanding officer she had become. None of it made her appear to be a person with choice.

The way Faolan had looked at her made her think he was lying on some level. It hadn’t been mere curiosity in his gaze; he had “checked her out,” as Boomer would say. She doubted a man from medieval Scotland would have much interest in a woman beyond what he could take physically. But his eyes had been soft and gentle while he explained his motivation.
So why do I want to believe him?

Her silent musing ended when she reached her men. She walked over to Miller who was setting a broken finger on a soldier whose name badge said Iduna. “How’s the hand, Sergeant?”

He answered quickly, “Just a broken finger, no big deal, Major.”

She crouched before him. “Good to hear. As soon as we make camp tonight, I’d like to actually meet you.”

His broad smile answered, “I’d like that too.”

“Private Miller, how injured are my men?”

The private finished wrapping the finger. “Mostly minor cuts and some bruising.” He glanced across the field at Faolan and his men. “They have a man down. With your permission, I’d like to see if I could help.”

“Why would you even ask? They fought beside us, and that makes them friendlies. See it done.”

Miller grabbed the med kit from the ground. “I wasn’t sure if you would mind. After all, I was sentenced to die for aiding men who didn’t wear the uniform.”

Samantha’s eyes widened at the statement. She knew it was bad out there, but not that bad. “Who did you help?”

“I was putting our men back together after a skirmish in Mexico when I went to patch up some locals that got caught in the crossfire.” He sighed as he finished. “I will admit I had been ordered not to aid the villagers.”

Samantha rose to her feet. “You did the right thing then and now. I’m doubly glad to have you along.” She saw the man beam as he trotted across the open field to where the wounded man lay. A small curse left her lips as Miller was pushed away from the injured warrior.

Harrison said from behind her, “Looks like they don’t quite get the concept. Should we intervene?”

“We may have to. Are you injured, Captain?” she asked as she faced the man.

“Just a few light scratches that have already been disinfected. Your arm needs the same,” he said as they began the walk back across the field.

“After everyone else is seen, Captain.”

“Again you sound like your father. The men always came first for him too,” he added as they sidestepped a body on the ground. “You can call me Jeff when we are at ease, Samantha.”

Her smile answered but then faded as they reached the wounded man. Kagen stated to Miller, “Leave him alone.”

“This man is a healer and may be able to help,” Samantha said, though she doubted a class four med kit could do anything. There was a large slash across the man’s belly that went far too deep for simple stitches. The medic still examined the wound, and she could see the frustration in his face.

Miller said, “He’s already gone.”

“Which is why I told you to stay away from Robert’s body,” Kagen said.

She felt his approach before Faolan uttered a sound. The hair on the back of her neck prickled in awareness, though not in an unpleasant way. There was no hint of a threat at his silent approach, only a certainty he was there. He offered a polite nod to her before he knelt beside the body and used his hand to close the staring eyes. He took the dead man’s dagger and tucked it within his belt.

Faolan stood. “I would see him buried before we leave.” Kagen nodded at the statement.

Miller said, “You’re both cut, let me clean those up first.” He glanced at the other two warriors. “Are they hurt?”

Faolan shook his head. “No. Dinna fash yourself. We both will live to see another day. Take care of Major Samantha . . . her arm bleeds.”

She glanced at the rip in her jacket and, for the first time, felt the cut, not deep, but enough for a stitch or two. Her jacket fell to the ground as she lifted the short sleeve of her t-shirt for the medic to view. A sigh of relief escaped when she noticed her Semper Fi tattoo remained unharmed.

Per Miller’s instructions, she sat again on the grass and winced as the disinfected pad swiped her cut. The adhesive flowed over the broken skin, and she knew within thirty seconds her wound would be set and closed. The shadow covered her as Boomer stood over her. “No worries, Boomer.”

“My bad, Sam.” The guilt overflowed in his voice.

“Yeah, too bad you can’t keep up,” Samantha mocked and then asked with concern, “You okay?”

“Five by five as always,” he replied, as he leaned down to whisper, “We have a live one.”

She nodded as she waited for Faolan and Kagen to have their light wounds tended. There was only bewilderment that they didn’t question the treatment or what must be magical material in the med kit. When Miller declared them fit, Samantha said, “We have a live attacker. Care to ask any questions?”

Both men were on their feet before she finished. Samantha reached for her jacket and hesitated as Faolan extended a hand to help her up. She didn’t need it but accepted the offer. His hand was gentle as he gripped hers, with none of his obvious strength used. It was almost as if he were afraid to break her, like she was made of glass. But she felt it, the warmth his skin offered hers when his large hand swallowed hers. As soon as she was up, she dropped his hand, too disturbed by the tingly sensation he had created.

Boomer led them to a dying man on the edge of the field. From the twisted angle, it was clear his leg was broken, and blood flowed freely from a large gash on his side. Faolan knelt by the man and demanded, “Why?”

The man coughed blood and sneered at the question. His voice was but a harsh whisper, “You have been found, Draig. You shall pay . . . for the sins of your ancestor . . . your line dies . . . the gods shall have their revenge.” Then nothing more as a final breath left his body.

Samantha knew Jeff had heard it all, and they both turned to Faolan. “What was that about?”

“I dinna ken. His words were in a language I dinna comprehend.”

The captain replied, “What are you talking about? I followed everything he said.”

Samantha interjected, “I have a lot to explain to you yet, Captain. It’s very probable that was a foreign language.” She turned to Faolan and repeated the dying man’s message verbatim. His face paled, but he still claimed not to understand the threat.

“My clan is respected in the Highlands, and we have no known enemies. Though these men are most likely responsible for the deaths of several of my warriors and my father. Plus, they stole half of my sheep. We were tracking the flock when we met you,” Faolan explained. “My father was a good man.”

She felt his pain at the simple yet eloquent epitaph. Those were words she could have used for her own father.

Captain Harrison said, “It may have just been the mad ramblings of a dying man.”

Faolan quickly agreed. “You saved my life, and there is now a blood debt between our people. It would be pleasing if you would join us as we travel home. Guests have long been honored within my walls, Jeff.”

Samantha didn’t miss Kagen’s surprise at the offer. His shock almost matched her own. “While your offer is kind—”

Captain Jeff Harrison quickly interrupted, “The major and I need to discuss your kind offer. In the meantime, we would assist in burying your dead.” He called out for two of the men to bring shovels and pointed to the dead warrior of the Draig clan.

Faolan nodded and walked away with Kagen.

Samantha whispered, “The last thing we need is to get more wrapped up in this timeline.”

“Get over the timeline because we are now a part of it,” Jeff said. “We need shelter, a place to think and choose our next course of action. I like the idea of strong walls around us while we sleep.” After glancing over his shoulder to make certain they were alone, he asked, “How did we understand the other language?”