Guardian (25 page)

I was so completely immersed in Ian that I barely noticed when the moon’s glow flowed over us. Ian pulled his lips from mine and I groaned, wrapping my arms around his trim waist to pull him more tightly against me.

He chuckled and nipped at my nose, wrapping a large hand in the gold touched silver of my hair and pulling my lips to within an inch of his. I sucked in his musky flavor, my knees nearly buckling with pleasure as I consumed his sweet breath and melted into his long, hard body.

“Here we go.” He said, and I gasped as my body started to ripple and stretch, growing thin enough in places to be transparent.

I panicked and tried to pull away but Ian held on tight. “Stay still, Nuria, I’m making sure wherever we go…we go there together.”

I took a deep breath and tried to calm the nerves that were making my heart bang against my chest. I suddenly decided that having my ions ripped apart and reorganized to travel through time was not my favorite thing.

Gradually the silver glow of the RiverIsle moon faded and my feet no longer felt the firm earth beneath them. We entered a column of swirling light and color, seemingly suspended in air as everything swirled around us. The light and activity made my head pound so I closed my eyes. But then I felt as if my stomach would fly out of my mouth so I opened them again, pressing my face against Ian’s chest to keep the pounding in my head at a minimum.

In my peripheral vision I could see the lights continuing to swirl around us. Gradually they began to slow and change, taking on the color and feel of bright sunshine, mixed with the deep green of meadow grass, and with a jolt, we were surrounded by a wide field of tall grass, a bold sun shining high above our heads in a bright blue sky.

The bright green grass flew up to meet us as we fell out of the transporter and into a new time. My head hit the ground hard and Ian fell on top of me, knocking the wind from my lungs.

I just lay there, too dazed even to shove him off, my eyes blinking against the impossible brightness of the sun. My eyes were having trouble transitioning from the deep dark of a RiverIsle night to bright midday, from the position of the sun in the sky, of wherever we’d landed.

Ian rolled off me and we lay there, vibrating with leftover adrenalin and electrical energy for a few moments. Finally I sat up and looked around. “I don’t know where the hell we are, but I’m glad to see all our parts are still where they should be. I leered at him, “Especially yours!”

Ian chuckled.

I grinned back, “You gonna just lie there all day?”

He grabbed my arm and yanked me down on top of him. “Only if you’ll lay here with me.”

I lowered my lips to his and kissed him, softly at first, and then more deeply, allowing the residual passion from RiverIsle to swamp me again, if only for a moment. He groaned as I lifted my lips from his and then took his full, bottom lip between my teeth in a playful nip. “No time for fun and games, Elfaery. We have bad guys to find and conquer.”

Ian made a grab for me but I was already on my feet, standing over him. I reached a hand down and he grabbed it, tugging experimentally. I lifted an eyebrow at him. “No funny business.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “No rest for the weary or fun for the horny. You’re a hard taskmaster.”

I grinned at him, refusing to be distracted from our mission. “It looks like our friends went that way.”

Ian turned and his sharp, brown gaze took in the trampled trail of grass leading toward a distant town, just barely visible on the horizon. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and started walking. “Let’s go. The sooner we kick bad guy ass the sooner I can bury myself deep inside you and stay there for a week.”

I shivered in delight. “Now that’s what I call an incentive plan.”

Ian laughed and strode quickly out ahead of me. I had to gun it to catch up.

~ ~
*
~ ~

As we neared the cluster of buildings we’d seen in the distance, a feeling of dread slid over me. We stopped on a hill overlooking the spreading village below and I turned to Ian. “I think you followed the wrong magic signature, Elfaery.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “No, this is where they came.”

I turned back, frowning. “We’re looking at a village from about the sixth century.”

Ian nodded, striding quickly in the direction of the rustic village below. “That we are, drunkin’ spirit. Shall we go see what our friends are up to?”

I sighed and hurried to catch up with him, tripping fairly quickly down the steep, grassy slope.

Something about the scene before me as we approached the village tugged at my memory. The cluster of buildings made from mud and wood, covered over by thatch roofs, were painfully familiar to me. My mind slid traitorously back to my recent trip down memory lane and I shivered, forcing my thoughts away from Etta’s revenge.

We crossed a short stretch of grassy plain and entered the road. Deep wheel ruts formed a double ribbon into the distance, leading toward the busy village. We walked along the edge of the road, careful to stay a safe distance from the rickety looking wagons and the exhausted horses pulling them.

Every wagon was filled to capacity with fresh produce, fat burlap bags, cages with chickens, pigs, and geese, or roughly made household goods.

As we entered the market village, we quickly found ourselves slogging through muck filled streets, lined on both sides by merchants loudly hawking their wares. The streets were so full there was barely room for the wagons to pass.

In fact, in the time it took us to struggle through the crowds to the first merchant, we saw several people nearly get crushed beneath the narrow wooden wagon wheels.

Ian grabbed one dirt streaked child away from that particular fate and handed her over to her ragged looking mother, who simply gave him a tiny nod in lieu of thanks and disappeared into the crowd, dragging the dirty urchin behind her.

I moved closer to Ian and shouted into his ear so he could hear me. “We’ll never find them in this mess.”

He nodded his head toward a wooden sign above our heads and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the Inn.

The relative quiet of the place was a relief after the chaotic atmosphere in the street. The main room of the Inn consisted of a single, windowless room, with mud and beam walls and an enormous fireplace that pretty much encompassed one whole side. The only furniture in the room was a couple of long, rough hewn wooden tables with benches, set across the room horizontally to maximize access to the warmth of the fire. Several people sat in the center of the table nearest the fire, eating hearty looking fare from metal plates and drinking something from thick, metal mugs.

As we squinted in an effort to acclimate to the near darkness of the room, a short, round fellow with about two strands of hair on his shiny head hurried towards us, wiping disproportionately large hands on a dirty strip of cloth hanging from his belt. “Welcome. What wish ye? A hot meal is it? Or a place to rest yere weary bones?”

The accent was sixth century British, and judging from the ocean I saw in the distance, we were not too far from Cornwall.

“What is this place?” Ian asked the man.

He looked surprised, but answered without delay. “Why ‘tis Bodmin, sire.”

Ian nodded as if that meant something to him.

I glanced around the room as Ian spoke to the Inn keeper, listening to him describe Aubrie and Dawnia.

None of the hunched, weary looking bunch in that room bore any resemblance to the faery or the elf.

I turned back in time to see the little Inn keeper shake his head. He hadn’t seen them. Ian thanked him and we turned to go.

“Ye’re not the first to ask, sire.”

We turned back. Ian said, “Go on.”

The little man stepped closer, keeping his head down and his eyes up. His overlarge hands wrung the dirty cloth nervously.

“She was small, and had eyes that pierced right into me soul. Me thinks it were the Lady of the Lake, sire.” He shuddered dramatically.

Ian and I exchanged a look.

Etta.

I placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and smiled. “Thank ye, kind sir. Ye’ve been most helpful.”

He nodded. “Ye’ll avoid that one though, miss?”

I nodded, grinning. “It’s what I do best.”

He seemed glad of this response and nodded.

The street seemed even more chaotic than before. In the center, a long line of wagons sat in frustrated stillness. Apparently even in the dark ages they had traffic jams. One merchant, apparently losing his last shred of patience, stood up on the seat of his wagon and started screaming and shaking his fists.

His thick accent and agitated state made his words all but unintelligible to me, but the gist of them was clear. “Get ye the hell out of my bleepin’ way, ye arseholes!”

I watched the man reach into the back of his wagon and pull out something fat and red, flinging it at the back of the driver’s head in front of him.

The overripe fruit splattered nicely, spraying the target and those around the wagon with fragrant juice. The driver of the forward wagon shot out of his seat, heading toward his attacker with purple face and clenched fists.

Dark age road rage.

Chuckling, I suddenly realized that Ian had disappeared into the crowd. Standing on my tiptoes I looked around, easily spotting his dark head over the crowd. They just didn’t grow men as big as Ian in the dark ages.

Lucky for me he stood out in a crowd.

He disappeared into another building, whose sign told me it was some kind of pub. I elbowed and shoved my way through the crowd and slipped inside behind him. I scanned the dark room and saw that Ian was seated at a long, wooden table, similar to the ones we’d seen at the Inn. He was talking to an attractive young woman who stood on the other side of the table from him and whose upstairs attributes nearly covered the distance between them.

I suddenly wondered what full figured women did for support in the dark ages.

“Aye, sire, she were here. She give me the creeps somethin’ fierce, she did.”

Ian acknowledged me with a brief glance, and then returned his gaze to the buxom lass. “Was she asking after two people, a man and a woman?”

The young serving woman eyed me critically, apparently judging me as competition. Her bright, blue eyes landed on my chest, which was adequate, but certainly not in her league, and she dismissed me with a smug smile.

“Ye’ll need to buy a drink, sire.”

Ian nodded. “Two of your best please.”

The girl gave me one last visual tweak and then turned away, following her boobs to the bar.

I peeked an eyebrow at Ian.

He shrugged innocently, but his lips tipped upward. “I didn’t even notice. My eyes were firmly fixed on her face.”

I sat down next to him, straddling the bench so I could keep an eye on the door. “Uh huh. And my mother was a gorgon.”

He grinned, “She was?”

I smacked him on the arm and watched the girl walk back toward us carrying two metal mugs in front of her. “She must have to hang weights from her butt to keep from falling on her face.”

Ian waggled his eyebrows at me. “No. I checked. She doesn’t need weights.”

I snorted in an unladylike fashion just as she reached us with the mugs. She slammed mine down in front of me, sending the contents skyward. I leaned back as the brownish brew landed, spraying the air around us.

Ian caught a drop between the eyes.

Reaching up to swipe it away, he turned his formidable charm back to the girl, ignoring my muttering attempts to dry the front of my faery garb.

“You were telling me if the small, dark haired visitor was looking for a man and a woman who were passing through town?”

The buxom barmaid slid her naturally weighted behind onto the bench on the other side of the table and leaned toward Ian, giving him a bird’s eye view of a pretty scary amount of cleavage. I looked up from my drying ministrations just in time to see him lick his lips appreciatively. He took on a rather dazed look that didn’t bode well for further questioning.

I shook my head. Men.

I reached over and pinched his arm. He jerked and his eyes cleared. He lifted his chocolate brown gaze to the girl’s face, which wore a very smug smile. “Nay. She finally said. She was askin’ after Merlinus. The old wizard in the cave. I knew she were fruity, that one.”

I choked on my nasty tasting beverage, spewing it all over my buxom buddy across the table.

Ian stood up, grabbing my arm. He dragged me out of the pub before the girl could skewer me with the fireplace poker she was waving in my direction. He shoved me outside the pub. “Stay right here.”

He went back inside and I stood there fuming. My nose wrinkled as an errant breeze wafted across me and I smelled myself.

I smelled like bad beer.

Nasty bitch. I was glad I spit it all over her.

Ian returned and grabbed my arm again, pulling me down the street. I tried to wrench free but his grip was much too strong. Not for the first time I wished I had my powers. I’d throw the Neanderthal right on his fine ass.