Time of the Draig (7 page)

He gestured to the ground and asked, “With your permission.”

She smiled and offered a sweeping gesture with her small hands. “The hard ground is all yours.” Though he would swear Boomer glared a bit at him from the major’s other side.

As she began unlacing her boot, Jeff said, “While we are agreed the United Forces has no place here, I’m going to impose the boots-on policy.”

A man called out, “Seriously?”

“Seriously. While Faolan has agreed to a non-aggression treaty, there may be other nasty types wandering the woods. Boots on, bags unzipped, and swords by your side as a precaution.” Jeff added, “Major, stow that hair. I don’t need you blind in a late night fight.”

Faolan heard her words to Boomer even as her glorious hair was rebound. “Like a bit of hair is going to slow me down,” she grumbled. “I hate sleeping in my boots.”

Boomer chuckled, “I hear that.”

Faolan settled onto his blanket as those surrounding the fire did the same. He could see the strategy in not using the cave, as one could easily become trapped by an enemy within, and the night was clear and dry.

His arm served as a pillow, though he noted Samantha had taken off what the men referred to as a jacket to serve the same purpose. In moments, the sounds of light breathing and some mild snoring filled the camp. He chanced a glance at Samantha and forced himself not to laugh. She was the one who snored.

As he watched her face relax into sleep, he once again marveled at her beauty. Long dark lashes hid the vibrancy of her eyes. Clear skin and full lips filled his vision. Faolan marveled that she slept by his side. When he had offered to buy her, he had hoped to see the woman rest and recover. The other had come, too. She had agreed to stand by his side even after his misguided offer. Faolan closed his eyes, wondering how long it would be before she was ready to fulfill her oath. He knew the limitations of his patience and his desire for her. His last thought before sleep was how fine life would be once she was ready to fulfill the marriage agreement.

Chapter 7

Samantha shifted the pack on her back as they walked on a trail through the woods. The bright morning sun had given way to clouds and in the early afternoon, a light drizzle. She inhaled the damp scent of the clean, fresh earth and savored the walk through the beautiful countryside.

Jeff and Faolan held point. She marveled at Jeff’s ability to glean so much information as they traveled. Even from the distance, she could hear Faolan answer the questions of how many trained men served him, the natural defenses of a cliff that fell to the sea, the height of his walls, and the crops grown. He even described the layout of the keep within the walls. There was confidence in not walking in cold to a new environment.

Still, she had a lot of questions about Faolan. She had awoken in the morning to find him sleeping next to her. She smiled at the memory of her panic upon waking up somewhere strange next to a different face. His face seemed younger while he slept, as if he carried no worry. Samantha learned he was just slightly older than she was, twenty-seven, and the hereditary ruler of his lands.

His eyes had opened only moments after hers, as if he knew she was studying him. There had been no panic for him, only a sleepy, warm smile and a greeting of “good morrow, lass” given with a soft husky voice. Even thinking about it gave her a small shiver.
No one should look that good first thing in the morning.
Something about his simplicity and honesty appealed to her, two concepts that had been far removed from her day-to-day existence in the lab. She refused to believe she was shallow enough to care about his incredible good looks and compliments.

It must be his sweet nature
, she decided. Every move he made that morning had been polite, from trying to help her with her jacket, offering his supply of dried fruit to flavor her packaged oatmeal, and wanting to secure her pack to his mount to make her more comfortable. The hard fact was she wasn’t used to anyone going out of his way to make her day better, aside from Boomer. But her friend never smiled at her like Faolan or flirted so subtly.
Maybe Boomer is right, and I should relax and enjoy the moment.

Boomer interrupted her thoughts as he returned to her side. “I think you may have some trouble.”

Reality had come back to intrude on her inner peace. Samantha looked up and asked, “What?”

“I was in the rear with an ear open, and all afternoon Corporal Jensen has been talking smack about how the men should either go AWOL or simply take over. He seems to think it would be easy to take you and Captain Harrison out of the picture.” With a glance at the men in the lead, Boomer continued, “He’s not that worried about our new friends, given that only Faolan is visible.”

Jensen is an unobservant fool.
Samantha had noted Kagen on several occasions. While the other locals traveled with the sheep, she had no doubt they were within range of immediate assistance.

“Did he ask you to join him?” Samantha asked out of sheer curiosity.

“He did after I fed him some crap about being tired of being your lapdog. He ate it up like candy,” Boomer said.

“Right. Like you would fit on my lap,” Samantha teased and then asked, “And the others?”

“No firm commitments. I think most are waiting to see how the day plays out, you know, kind of a
Lord of the Flies
mentality,” Boomer replied. “The only one who said he wants no part of it is Warrant Officer Efraim. Seems Mark is still a yes or no man, but on your side.”

“Thanks, Boomer. I’ll deal with it,” Samantha replied and jogged to catch up with Jeff.

As she reached the talking men, she interrupted them. “Captain Harrison, we have an issue. Looks like Corporal Jensen has taken to questioning our ability to lead and is trying to muster support for a revolt.”

“I had a feeling that might happen.” Jeff pointed to the clearing visible down the trail. “Let’s call a rest up ahead, and I’ll deal with him.”

“Negative, Captain. I’ve taken command. It’s my issue unless it goes FUBAR.” Samantha saw the confusion on Faolan’s face and said, “Fucked up beyond all recognition. Basically I said that should a few of the men actually plan on starting a fight, I expect Captain Harrison to jump in.”

Faolan snarled, “Should any attack, my sword stands at the ready to defend you, Major Samantha.”

She offered her thanks, but she would have had more gratitude if he had dropped the major in front of her name. It sounded strange coming from him. Samantha added, “I doubt it will come to that. Jensen appears to be the only one with a problem.”

“Jeff explained to me how these men came into your service. I understand their oaths to you are weak. Mayhap ‘tis is a fine time to demand more,” Faolan offered.

She pondered what he said and decided he was right. If these soldiers were going to stay under her command long enough to regain UNK005, she needed to know they were loyal. “That is excellent advice. Thank you.” She added, “We wouldn’t bring men into your home that would cause problems.”

Faolan smiled as he said, “‘Tis also been explained. I have no doubt in your abilities.”

Again his smile could only be described as warm and bright.
No one in this time period should have such white straight teeth.
She felt her answering smile but was slightly disconcerted at how easily it came. There was no denying the fact Faolan’s smile was something she couldn’t resist.

“What are you thinking?” Jeff asked.

Samantha forced her eyes away from Faolan and refrained from admitting she was thinking only of the handsome man who made her smile. “I doubt we can reason with Jensen. He doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that we are stronger as a whole. I’m afraid it’s going to take brute force.”

“Unfortunately, I agree. I’ve got it,” Jeff replied.

“Sorry, Captain. This one is all mine,” Samantha said.

“No offense, Major. Jensen is six-foot-two and about two-hundred-twenty pounds.”

“Actually, he’s two-twenty-six, or so he claimed in the lab. He’s mine,” Samantha said as she detailed her physical skill set. She had always been small, and she had been homeschooled. Not a great combination for the child of a general living in base housing. For a very short while, she was a target for some of the neighborhood kids, until her father signed her up for martial arts, explaining her body needed to be as strong as her mind.

Karate came first, with a second-degree black belt by the age of eight. Then the family was stationed in Korea and Tae-kwon-do became the next focus. That time she worked privately with a master of the discipline and earned the equivalent of a third-degree black belt in only three years. While she never formally tested in a class setting, it was the material she had mastered. Jiu-jitsu followed, as had Akido, Hapkido, and some more interesting versions of street fighting from South America.

Samantha finished with a terse statement: “He’s mine.”

“Done,” Jeff agreed.

“What does all of that mean?” Faolan asked.

“She’s more of a weapon than you can ever imagine. Still want to buy her?” Jeff asked with a smirk.

“Does she mean to fight a man twice her size? You must forbid it,” Faolan demanded.

Samantha replied with a roll of her eyes. “I can more than handle him.”

She ignored Faolan’s protests as they entered the clearing. Her pack was set down as the rest of the men came into view. The spot was too beautiful for a confrontation. Even in the light drizzle, her eyes savored the large budding trees, the mix of weeds and grasses underfoot, and the sweet fragrance of it all combined.

Jeff called out, “Let’s take fifteen, people.”

Jensen didn’t disappoint; he was last in line and basically glared at Captain Harrison as he brushed past. The signs were so visible she didn’t need Boomer’s warning. Jensen kept apart from the group and muttered comments about how ridiculous it all was, pretending they were still soldiers. The rest of the men volleyed their glances between Jensen and her; they waited to see what would happen.

“Corporal Jensen, do you have a problem?” Samantha asked in a loud voice that captured everyone’s attention.

His pack fell to the ground. “You bet your ass I have a problem.” Jensen strode several steps in her direction. “I have a big problem. You left us stranded in the middle of nowhere and want me to keep playing the dutiful soldier.”

She took a few steps toward him. “I don’t expect you to play anything. You are a soldier, and I outrank you.” Pointing to the gold leaf embroidered on her jacket, she said, “I earned these.”

“Those mean nothing here,” Jensen taunted.

“They mean everything here. As your commanding officer, my duty is to keep you safe, and it’s a duty I plan on doing to the best of my ability. But yes, I brought you here instead of leaving you to die.” Samantha could hear the murmurs of approval from the men who watched the exchange. “My other duty is to protect my country. Captain Harrison has made it crystal clear that our goal is to attempt to return to prevent UNK005 from being discovered, which should prevent the war we are currently losing.”

“We’ve been told you don’t know if you can do that. How about this? Why not just take over here? We are ten highly trained death machines. We could take over and run this country. Hell, we could probably train enough men to rule half of Europe. But we can also do that without you and your ridiculous rules.”

Samantha listened and pretended to consider his idea. She didn’t believe a word of it. While he continued to boast about what they could do, she could see the uncertainty. She could also see the men look away from Jensen; they didn’t see him as a leader.

The man ranting before her was armed. The captured sword from yesterday’s skirmish hung in his belt. Her hands opened and closed as he began taunting her. Her fingers flexed as he challenged her command outright.

As her hands opened and closed, the thought came a little more into focus. Even when closed, there was air or matter against her flesh.
Why does that intrigue me? Where is the connection I’m missing?

She pushed the idea aside as she stepped within four feet of Jensen. “I get it. You think you’re a bad ass who’s better able to lead.” If she looked straight, all she saw was his chest. Raising only her eyes, she challenged, “I also understand we are far from home and the military chain of command. There are no higher powers, no reports, no transfers, and no brigs.” She questioned him with a voice full of sincere passion. “Do you realize we are stronger together? If we all work together we could—”

Jensen interrupted her. “I don’t give two shits about what you think.”

Samantha weighed her options and lifted her captured sword from her belt and threw it to the side, but the Bowie knife stayed tucked in the pocket of her pants. “If you want command, you’ll have to take it from me.”

Jensen sneered as he threw his weapon to the ground. He said, “With pleasure, Major. You won’t be the first C.O. I’ve taken out.”

Faolan’s voice rose from the crowd, “If you wish to fight, then here I am. How dare you think of striking a wee woman?”

Samantha quickly said, “Not now, Faolan. Boomer, hold him back and out of the way.” She heard Faolan argue with Boomer but didn’t pay attention. Boomer would keep him out of it even if he had to sit on the laird.

She sank into a crouch and removed her boots and socks as Jensen watched. The man at least waited for her to be ready. There was doubt it was out of any sense of honor, but he was aware of his audience.

The grass was cool and damp under her bare feet as she rose to face him. The drizzle had left the ground a bit slick and would hinder both of them. Her jacket hit the ground, as did his. It was just as she suspected—Jensen was fit and muscular but moved without any fluidity.

The bow she offered was habit and mocked his lack of decency. She knew he gleaned that from the look on her face when his initial right cross was uncontrolled. The block she offered threw his arm to the side with ease. She was disappointed that his attacks were easily deflected; an upper cut countered with a middle block, another wild cross punch again thrown to the side, and a roundhouse kick that held little challenge due to his unsure footing on the damp ground.

Again her hands opened and closed and opened and closed, and she was mesmerized by the idea of the matter captured within her palm.
What remains when my hand is closed? How much still remains within, and what type of value does it contain?
Her mind raced with thoughts that wanted to center on timetravel as her body defended and waited for her opponent to tire.

Her feet slipped backward on the ground when his fist connected below her right cheekbone. Not full force, but enough to bring her attention back completely. Her tongue tasted blood, signaling the time for a bit of offense.

Jensen never saw it coming. Samantha’s first attack drove the air from his chest. The combination of kicks delivered to his left side diverted his attention from the punches that immediately struck his solar plexus. As he gasped for air, she spun and struck his kidneys on the right side. She jumped to the other side and delivered a series of strikes to his left rib cage.

He paled from the lack of air, and she delivered the final blow; she jumped up and delivered a spinning back kick that knocked him to the ground. Before he realized he was down, Samantha had him flipped to his stomach with one arm pinned at a rather painful angle across his back while one knee pressed against the kidney she had struck repeatedly. Unlike her opponent, there had been no randomness to her strikes; each one was carefully coordinated to bring Jensen down swiftly. With her free hand, she grabbed her knife and held it to the side of his neck.

“This is over, Corporal. You can’t get enough air to remain conscious, and I’m barely warmed up,” Samantha said as she pulled the restrained arm tighter. “You have two choices: yield to my authority and I let you live and come with us, or you can assume what ‘or’ means.” She didn’t have an answer to the “or” and hoped she didn’t need one.

Jensen whispered something she didn’t quite catch. She asked again, “With or against, Corporal?” The blade was pressed tight against his artery as she asked.

She heard the second reply, the “with” she had wanted. But she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. Her knee pressed harder onto the bruised kidney as she said, “This will not happen again. We stay together, we fight together, we work together, and we live together for now. Where do we stand, Corporal?”