The Time Travel Directorate (10 page)

Turning,
he hopped off the platform, retreating to a viewing area erected several feet away. Taking a seat, he accepted a tankard with a smile, raising it high toward the scaffolding.

Inspector Habit took up the axe in his hands,
twirling it over his head for the screaming crowd.

“This was the man I
was telling you about!” he cried. “He killed a knight, can you believe the treachery?”

The crowd
continued throwing rocks. Vin winced as one came into contact with his shoulder. Blood had pooled around the top of the platform, and Vin watched as it splattered on his clothing. He looked up to face his executioner.

“
Inspector Habit, you are in violation of the numerous travel crimes.”

Habit
looked at Vin and smiled.

“
Inspector Damato, it has been an absolute pleasure,” he responded, kicking Vin forward over the block.

Vin
closed his eyes, knowing it would all be over soon.

The monk roused Kanon awake, which she could tell annoyed him.

“T
oo much wine last night,” she offered pathetically, rising to begin her chores.

“Today, we
continue with striking,” the monk said with finality, exiting the shed.

W
eaponry had been a new addition to Kanon’s routine, one which she enjoyed immensely. Until that point, her training revolved around monotonous movements. Being able to practice with a pole or sword was a welcome change.

Kanon stretched, moving her arms upward in the air before she remembered the events of the previous evening. Hastening to wash quickly, she thought again of her discovery. She had to tell someone. This might be the missing piece to determining how Julius Arnold moves in and out of time. Maybe he is using a web!

Exiting the shed,
Kanon watched the monk as he positioned a rack of weapons in the courtyard.

“We work quickly,” he said, gesturing for her to come towards him.

Taking her position opposite, the monk mimed several movements, encouraging her to respond in kind.

After practicing what felt like dancing,
Kanon decided to chance a conversation.

“I used the web last night,” she said,
imitating his movements.

“Concentrate,” was all the monk said, swishing his finger at her as he had a habit of doing when
irritated.

Frowning,
Kanon continued the movements, trying hard to ignore this pressing concern. She was finding out how easy the physical training was to master—it was the mental piece that was frustrating.

She was so expressive with the Duchess. Crying when sad and lashing out in anger. It was
novel for her to keep her emotions bottled up. But the more in control she was, the more the monk seemed to like her.

Pinning her lips together,
Kanon expertly finished her physical routine with a flourish—detecting the slightest smile on the monk’s face.

“Now,” he began succinctly, gesturing to the rack of weapons, “the sword.”

After an exhausting day, Kanon settled down on her cot to rest. They usually passed their non-working hours meditating, or out in the garden growing their food. Living so frugally was such a contrast to her time in Versailles, and Kanon was beginning to forget what life was like before.

As she slowed her breathing, she looked over to the monk. Having prepared
a cup of tea, he was seated on the floor a few yards away from the fire. Assuming his meditative position, he gave a small sigh.

Kanon
closed her eyes, letting the exertion of the day fall away, reciting her prayers to calm her body, feeling the world slip from her consciousness.

After a few moments,
her eyes fluttered open. Her heart was beating abnormally—her breath laborious. Images flashed into her mind, starling visions of darkness and death.

As her eyes came into focus, she saw the monk looking back at her.

“It is time,” he said succinctly, rising from his pose and gesturing under her cot.

Kanon
moved instinctively, retrieving her web and arranging it around her.

“You must hurry,” he said again, urgency pervading his features.

Without knowing what the danger was, or how she could help—Kanon decided to trust her training. She desperately felt something had gone awry. What’s more, she knew the web would take her to the right place.

She looked at the blinking reading pane and hit the red button, just as the monk firmly shoved her off the cot.

Opening her eyes, Kanon knew innately, and so had the monk, that Vin was in trouble. She must be tied together with him—a connection strong enough to withstand any expanse of time.

Studying
her surroundings, Kanon wasn’t sure how she would find him. She was inside a great hall, carefully laid out for an impending feast. The walls were decorated with vibrant tapestries, rich in hue, and complex in their design. From these cues, she determined she was in a medieval castle. But where were all the people?

Firmly affixing her web to her
belt, Kanon honed in on several swords hanging near the doorway. She scanned each one, looking for something similar to what she practiced with. Removing one weapon from the wall, she swooshed it around. It would have to do.

Walking cautiously toward the
door, she could hear sounds of revelry from outside the walls. Exiting into a hallway, Kanon located a narrow window. Gazing outside, she saw a large group of people, all facing one direction. It was some sort of celebration, but what for?

Heart pounding
, Kanon tried to see more, frustrated at her vantage point.

Julius Arnold
must be here
, she thought to herself.

Moving
down the hallway, she searched for a room that would give her a better view of the proceedings below. Turning to an open door, she walked into what appeared to be a chapel and stopped short.

Several
men garbed in elaborate robes were watching the festivities from an opened window. Kanon waved her sword at them.

“Out.”

After a few breathless seconds, the portly man closest to the door took off running, followed by his other
, skinnier brethren. Once they had exited, Kanon peered out the window.

She
was
in a medieval village, and a celebration was certainly underway. Her situation was extremely precarious. She had no disguise, knew nothing of the language or dialects. If she were found and were unable to fight her way out of it, this would become a one-way mission.

The sinking feeling she had when she first peered out the window intensified when she
registered what she was seeing. A large pen sat next to a raised scaffold, segmented from the onlookers with braided ropes.

The crowd
pushed forward, and her eyes followed a procession. She heard a voice shout over the revelry—one she remembered.

Julius Arnold
waved his arms at the crowd. He had grown stouter since she had last seen him. After a short oration, Kanon watched as he gave the signal to a man standing on the platform. He looked vaguely familiar, but Kanon could not put her finger on where she might know him from.

S
he watched as he deftly executed one of the prisoners. Kanon gulped. She had to find Vin, and fast.

Finding her breath,
Kanon scoured the crowd. The executioner finished wiping down the axe, leaning it against a tree stump that had functioned as his butcher block. Having dispensed of his last victim, the executioner moved back to the pen, pulling a man onto the scaffold. Kanon felt her heart fly into her chest as she recognized Vin.

Kanon
quickly judged the distance from her vantage point to the scaffolding, estimating the drop to be around six feet. She rested one foot on the window ledge, feeling the stone through her cloth shoes.

She
watched as Vin was forced to his knees. He remained there, as Julius took his place on the scaffolding. Kanon gripped her sword, heart beating wildly. She had one chance to get this right. If she misjudged her movements, both she and Vin would be dead.

At length, Julius
dismissed Vin with a wave of his hand and retreated to the comforts of an observation area. The executioner forced Vin down onto the block, spinning the axe ominously as he stood before him.

Readying
her sword, Kanon brought her other foot onto the ledge, preparing to land directly on the platform. The sound of the crowd was deafening, as the executioner playfully practiced his axe-stroke. Kanon crouched on the sill like a cat, ready to make her move.

As the
executioner raised the axe, she dropped off the ledge. She timed it perfectly, as her descent threw the crowd into disarray. She landed on the platform with a thump, cries erupting from the crowd. The executioner paused, jerking to the side as Kanon skipped over to him.

He stared
at her, mouth open—axe raised above his head—as Kanon brought her sword down on his left arm. It fell, along with the axe, with a thump. The man screamed, pawing at the bloody stump as Vin sat up.

“Untie me,” he cried, holding his hands to her.

Kanon
sliced through the bindings as the executioner fell heavily onto the platform, his tunic bunching up to reveal a web stashed neatly in his belt.

Vin
snatched it away, turning toward Kanon as the scene dissolved into pandemonium. The guards surrounding Julius surged forward, trying to make their way to the scaffolding. In the chaos, Kanon’s eyes locked with Julius Arnold’s.

When he saw her, he let out a roar
ing battle cry, forcing his portly frame to his feet.

“Get them, go now!”
he seethed, struggling to move through the crowd and onto the platform.

“
Julius Arnold,” Kanon began, holding her sword to eye level as she began walking towards him. Vin snatched her other arm.

“
Are you crazy? Let’s get out of here.”

Snapping out of it,
Kanon followed Vin as they jumped off the platform, forcing their way through the door to the castle keep.

Vin
pounded up the narrow staircase behind Kanon. After reaching the landing, she paused, staring at a small chapel.

“Th
is way!” she cried.

Vin
followed close on her heels as she made an abrupt turn into the castle’s great hall.

Once inside,
he pushed the heavy door closed.

“
What happened, why are you here?” Kanon cried.

“Not now
,” Vin snapped, securing a bar behind the door, “We’ll discuss at headquarters.”

“No,
” Kanon shot back. “Something feels wrong about headquarters. I can’t put my finger on it, but it has to do with Julius.”

Vin
finished securing the door just in time. The heavy frame reverberated from frantic blows—it would only hold for so long.

“
We have to go there, it’s my programmed endpoint,” Vin said.

“
You don’t need one,” Kanon replied—pulling his arm with excitement.

Vin
was startled to see her so changed. It was the same woman he had found on the sodden, wet cart, but her resolve and—dare he say it—maturity had seemingly grown. Her touch felt electric.

“
Don’t tell me you didn’t see me that night,” she said, turning to him with a wry smile.

Hopping onto the table, she
wrapped the web around her.

“
You have to trust me. I’ll meet you back at training camp.”

She hit the button, leaping from
the table and into thin air.

Vin
looked around the empty room. Throwing his web around him, he climbed onto the table.

“Please
, God, let this work,” he said, closing his eyes.

Chief Smiley listened
patiently to Vin’s story. After an uncomfortable silence, he adjusted his glasses.