ALEX RODE INTO THE night and all Sydney could do was cling to her mare and follow as best she could. She was not nearly as good a rider as he and Alex could see the night far better than she could.
They had ridden out of Chirbury as the last of the sunlight was fading. No one had challenged them. It would take more courage than a man had to question the acts of the Lady’s victorious champion and her new slave physician.
However, the horses could not keep up the frantic gallop forever. Eventually, Alex let them slow to a walk and reached back to draw the mare’s halter forward so that Sydney was level with him.
“Why do you think Rafe is in Mathrafel?” Sydney asked. They had not had time to discuss anything before leaving the burh.
Alex pulled a flask up from his belt and unstopped it. “Here, it’s watered wine. The water was boiled so it’s perfectly safe.”
She grimaced at the flat taste of the water that not even the sharp wine could disguise. It eased her parched throat, though and she was grateful for it.
“I think Llewelyn’s captain took Rafe,” Alex said.
“Siorus?” Sydney clarified, pronouncing the name carefully.
Alex nodded. “Siorus was sent back to Mathrafel in disgrace because he did not support the king’s wish to compete in the games I proposed.”
“You mean, Siorus didn’t like your idea,” Sydney amended.
“Either way, the king sent him back home because he was getting in the king’s way. Siorus overplayed his hand. I think he resented my influence over the king so much he took Rafe just to spite me.”
“He knows about us?”
“He’s a vampire. There’s not much you can hide from us, remember?” Alex gave her a small smile. “He’s very old and wise as a result. I didn’t realize he was of the blood until he revealed himself.”
“And he’s got Rafe?” She swallowed. “Would he kill him? Is he that pissed at you?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said shortly. “If he takes his time about it, the Vikings will have them both. I don’t think even Siorus expected them to move against England this soon.”
“The Vikings will kill them, then?”
“Or enslave them,” Alex said. He sighed. “Rafe has been through that once already in his life. I would spare him a second time if I can.”
Sydney bit her lip. “It’s all messed up, now, isn’t it? The future, I mean. The Vikings are here early, the Mercians and Powys have negotiated peace…does anyone know what will happen next?”
“I don’t think even Rafe remembers it happening this way,” Alex said before coaxing his beautiful white horse into another ground-swallowing gallop, leaving Sydney to follow as best she could.
* * * * *
When they were within a mile of the fortress and he could see the lights of the Viking camps on the river to the north, Alex slowed to a walk, then slid off his horse and grabbed the halter. He coaxed Sydney’s mare forward and pulled her to the ground, too, then pressed his hand against her mouth to indicate she should stay silent.
He bent to murmur in her ear. “It’s a cold, still night. Sound travels too well. Follow me. We’ll circle around the fortress as far as we’re able to. I want to see what is happening there before I decide what to do next.”
Sydney nodded. He could tell she was very tired by the stiff way she moved and the set of her jaw. She hated making allowances for her human weaknesses in front of him and Rafe, so he said nothing. Instead, he kept half an eye on her as she walked beside him. If she tripped or fell, he could catch her and then argue about leaving her somewhere safe.
He tied the two horses’ reins to a tree, loosely enough so that they could crop on the grass at their feet. He patted Atiya’s nose affectionately and took Sydney’s hand.
There was nothing moving in the night. No night creatures, no humans. Like the night Powys had marched into Mercia, the land had emptied of every living thing except the trees, escaping the oncoming army.
Alex took the warning to heart and began to pick out his steps even more carefully, every sense straining.
Instead, it was Sydney who spotted the sentries first. She tugged on his hand and pointed. Her human vision had seen the flickering light before he had noticed it. Light was not prey and vampire night vision was not drawn to it the same way a human would spot it as brightness upon an ocean of darkness.
He bent to speak in her ear again. “Stay here. Hug the ground. You can’t move silently. I’ll check ahead.”
She bit her lip. He could see that she wanted to argue with him.
“You’re too tired,” he added. “You’ll lose concentration.”
She nodded in agreement, her face unhappy. She was a realist, though. She moved carefully over to the nearest tree, lowered herself slowly to the ground and drew her knees up to her chest. Then she wrapped the cloak around her and lowered the hood over her face until only the fine point of her chin was visible.
Alex squeezed her shoulder in gratitude, then made his way forward in the dark. Already, the sky in the east was starting to lighten. It would be dawn soon and he knew without doubt the Vikings were only waiting for enough light to attack the fortress.
They had strung sentries out around the fortress in a loose circle, each one a dozen yards apart. It was an early warning system. The sentries would send up an alarm if anyone tried to sneak out of the fortress before sunrise. Individuals might be able to slide through if they were very good at moving across open ground in the dark, while armed men with their jingling mail and weapons would most certainly be spotted.
Alex completed enough of a circuit around the fortress to be reasonably certain the Vikings had fully encircled it. Then he made his way back to where he had left Sydney, thinking hard. Dawn was painting the sky orange over by the horizon, while the rest of the sky was changing from inky black to a lovely indigo and fading into dark blue when he finally reached the tree.
She was not there.
Tamping down his fright, he bent to examine the ground at the base of the tree. Her boots were clearly outlined in the damp earth. They were not hurried steps she had taken. The trail lead east, back the way they had come.
Alex backtracked, following her trail, as an early morning mist swirled around his legs and wreathed his head. Soon, he knew for certain what she had done and when the two horses appeared in front of him, parting the misty fingers, he was able to reach for Atiya’s halter with a calm expression on his face. “You went back for the horses,” he said as Sydney bent to offer him Atiya’s reins.
“I thought you might need a fast escape.”
Which he might well have done if she had not spotted the sentries in the first place. He pulled himself up onto Atiya’s back, then leaned over and kissed her. “I think that of the three of us, you have been the most effective.”
“Effective?”
“You have done more to influence change than anything I might have done.”
“I did my best not to change anything, until you came along and said we should,” she pointed out. “Where are we going, anyway?” she asked as he turned the horse to the north.
“There is a poor man’s hut, close by the border with Mercia, where we can hide out for the day, far away from the carnage the Vikings are about to deliver. If Llewelyn and Aethelfreda reach Mathrafel today—if they rode through the night as we did—then the fighting will be even more intense and there will be no room for innocent bystanders. Tonight, when the Northmen are either licking their wounds or celebrating their prowess, I will see if I can find a way to sneak into the fortress and find Rafe.”
They rode for a mile or so before she spoke again. “What did you mean by my influencing events? Were you talking about being the Lady’s champion?”
“Indirectly,” Alex said. “You became the lady’s champion because you stood up to the soldiers who attacked you. That took courage.”
“It took training, which you and Rafe have given me. Twenty years of security work helped, too.”
“Nevertheless, follow the events backward. The reason you were able to defeat me in the arena in a way that looked convincing and gave Mercia the victory they needed to maintain peace was because my foot slipped. Did you notice what we both lost our footing over?”
“I was too busy trying to look ferocious and intimidating,” Sydney replied.
“It was blood,” Alex said.
“Ugh.”
“To be precise, it was Tegid’s blood. Cola opened his belly wound with the blow from his shield and Tegid left a pool of blood on the stones, enough for us both to slide through it. The reason he had that wound in the first place was because you fought him off and sliced him open.”
Silence.
He glanced at her. Sydney was frowning, working it out for herself. “And I was there to fight Tegid because I had fought off Mercian soldiers in Chirbury and was brought to the Lady’s attention.”
“Which is far more than either Rafe or I have managed,” Alex said.
“Are you joking?” she replied. “You wrestled the leaders of two kingdoms and negotiated peace!”
Alex grinned. “A fact we may all live to regret, yet. We no longer know what will await us when we jump back home.”
Sydney looked startled, then thoughtful. He left her alone with her thoughts.
They were close to Bran’s hut when Alex caught the scent of human blood. He halted and held up his hand in warning. Sydney stopped and watched him.
Alex twisted around, sampling the air, determining a direction. When he had found it, he slid off the horse and headed for the big yew tree standing by itself, spreading shade for thirty feet around its twisted trunk. He bent underneath the canopy and walked silently over to the trunk. On the east side of the trunk a man was sitting with his back against the bark. His eyes were closed and he was softly snoring.
His neck was bare, the skin pale. There were markings there that only one of the blood could read. Alex studied the invisible traces, his heart lifting. He left the man to slumber and returned to Atiya and Sydney. “Rafe has been here,” he said. “He must have needed to feed after escaping the fortress.”
“I didn’t think you needed to feed while Veris and Taylor and Brody were watching over us.”
“If his heart has been running too freely, or if he has lost blood, he would need to feed to compensate.” He climbed on the horse. “That means I know where Rafe is, and it’s not in Mathrafel.” He nodded in the direction of Bran’s hut. “Half a mile from here.”
Even Atiya seemed to sense they were close to their destination, for he kept trying to break out into a gallop. Finally, Alex let him have his head and they pounded along the vale.
Rafe was waiting for them, standing outside the hut and leaning on the long ax, which he had been using to chop wood for the cooking fire.
The child Efa had been placing the wood on the old tree stump for Rafe to split, and Bran was sitting on a wider log placed end-down in the dirt, next to the door of the round hut, his injured arm held against his chest and his face turned up to the sun.
When Rafe saw it was them, he dropped the ax and hurried forward.
Alex and Sydney slid from their saddles and met him just in front of the horses’ noses. For long minutes, Alex lost track of who was kissing who and didn’t care.
Then he realized that Efa had moved closer to them and was watching them with some annoyance. Alex tapped Rafe’s shoulder and nodded toward Efa.
Rafe turned to face her and bent a little to put himself at her height. “These are the people I told you about.”
Efa crossed her arms, her face tightening up. “You didn’t say that one of them was a girl!”
* * * * *
Alex balanced himself carefully on the old beams that had been used to build the original roof supports. They were solid enough despite their age, but they were rounded and difficult to walk upon. Also, they were hidden beneath a thick thatch of straw. Most of the straw was molding and no longer shed water and much of it was growing wild grass upon it, the seeds blown here by the wind and fed by the rain. Alex had volunteered to replace the worst of it using some of the new bale of straw that Rafe had bought for the children. He had watched men thatching roofs in the past. Similar to many survival skills, it was more difficult to do than it appeared to be when one merely watched it being done.
However, the work was relaxing, for the sun was warm on the back of his shoulders and the air was just cool enough to stop him from overheating. Plus, the view from the very top of the conical roof was spectacular, with the land rolling for miles to the horizon.
They had agreed to remain at the hut until the outcome of the battle between Mercia and Powys and the invading Vikings was decided. “Once the land is clear of soldiers looking for trouble, we can travel to the monastery where I think the monk who is copying Nennius’ book will be,” Rafe had said. “Then, finally, we can jump home.”
The sun was high when Alex glanced west and saw thick dark smoke rising into the pale blue sky. He studied it for a while, then climbed down to the ground.
Rafe was dressing another deer and Sydney was being Sydney—she was teaching Efa to hold a knife for maximum strength of grip. The youngest child, Cefin, was sitting on the ground playing knucklebones.
“The fortress is burning,” Alex said.
Sydney straightened up, shading her eyes to look at him.
“Does that mean Powys is losing?” Rafe asked from over by the tree, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. He held the other hand out from his side, for it was thick with blood and gore.
Sydney looked down as Efa gripped a fold of her gunna, then back at them. “I don’t think it matters who is losing.”
“If the Vikings win, then we’ll have a devil of a time getting to the monastery,” Alex pointed out.
“I don’t think we should even try,” Sydney said. “Not right now.”
Rafe plunged his hands into the bucket of water standing nearby and scrubbed them. “Talking to the monk, getting him to add the extra pages…that’s the whole reason we’re here.”
“Maybe it’s not, anymore,” Sydney said. She smiled down at Efa and rested her hand on the girl’s head. “Things have changed so much, maybe that’s not even needed anymore.”
“You’ve been thinking it through,” Alex told her. “Are you saying we should jump back now?”
Sydney sighed. “If we still need to talk to the monk, then we can always slip back here again and this time we’ll be braced for the chaos and for change and will deal with it better. If we don’t need to speak to the monk anymore, then there’s no reason to stay here. The only way we will know what to do, though, is to go back and see what changes have been made.”
“Better to speak to the monk anyway,” Rafe said. “Hedge our bets.”
Sydney shook her head. “The monastery is three days’ ride away, you said. That’s a lot of miles, all of them filled with one or two armies on the run, trying to hide away from the victors of this battle. They’ll be desperate. I don’t want to take that risk.”
“You can stay here,” Rafe said.
Sydney shook her head. “It’s not risk to me that I’m worried about. No, Rafe. I say we go home. Now. I can’t make decisions in a vacuum. I need information. I need to know what has changed.”
Alex smiled.
“What are you laughing at, infidel?” Rafe demanded.
“You heard the Lady,” Alex told him. “We’re going home. Now.”
* * * * *
Sydney dropped down in front of Bran once last time and looked him in the eye. “You understand what you are to tell Rhys when he comes back inside?” she asked.
Bran showed her the folded and sealed letter that he had tucked up the sleeve over his missing hand. “I’m to give him this and tell him that he and two dear friends of his wrote it and he must follow the instructions.” His brow wrinkled. “He really won’t remember anything?”
“Leave him be,” Rafe said softly. “We’ll be fine.”
“This is the first time in your history when you’ll have a gap in your memory,” Alex told him. “Brody had a hell of a time adjusting to the changes when he emerged on the other side of a time jump. I want to minimize that with you.”
“The letter will do,” Rafe said. “I’m not as stubborn as Brody.”
Alex snorted. “If you say so.”
Sydney smiled and got to her feet. “Goodbye Bran, Efa, Cefin.”
Alex bent over Bran. “Your arm is healing well. You should have no other trouble with it, except for learning how to live without the hand.”
“If Rhys is to stay, that will be easier than I hoped,” Bran said frankly.
“I’m staying,” Rafe assured him. “Except, I think, we might all have to relocate to somewhere in England. We can talk about that when I get back. We’re just going to step outside for a minute, okay?”
Bran nodded and Efa and Cefin watched them leave, their eyes big.
Alex stepped out to the bare patch of earth in front of the hut and Rafe and Sydney moved to his side. He slid his arms around their waists. “Remember that when we get back, any changes we have made will have echoed down to our time already. The others won’t remember anything of the way it was when we left.”
Sydney drew in a slow breath to steady herself. “Kiss me,” she demanded.
Rafe turned her chin up and kissed her. Alex tightened his arms around them both, and felt the giant invisible hand swipe them off their feet….
* * * * *
…and opened his eyes, blinking to clear his vision.
The familiar wood paneling that covered the ceiling of Sydney’s bedroom was marked with long shadows the way it did in the morning when the sunlight peered directly through the windows.
The windows were open and he could smell freshly cut lawn.
Someone stirred, next to him.
“Oh, my aching back!” Rafe muttered and groaned.
“Welcome back,” Taylor said.
Alex lifted his head. Taylor was standing at the end of the bed and gave him a small smile as he spotted her.
Brody pushed the bedroom door open and hurried in. “I heard Rafe speaking… they’re back!” He gave a great gusty sigh of relief.
Veris was standing beside Taylor, looking down at them. He crossed his arms. “I have a letter telling me your house burned down,” he growled. “And I even remember it burning…yet here we are standing in your house. What the fuck did you do back there?”
“What the hell happened here, then?” Sydney shot back.
“Quickly,” Alex said, struggling to sit up. “Tell me, what country lies to the west of England?”
Taylor looked surprised. “Wales, of course.”
“Not Gronoya?”
“What’s Gronoya?” Brody said.
“Who burned down my house?” Rafe demanded. “I’ll kill them!”