Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (7 page)

John sighed again. “I’m trying to get him to talk about what happened concerning his brother.”

“Alasdair?
”

John nodded. 
“Dallan must have a horrible sense of loss and frustration at not knowing what h
appened after Kwaku took him."
He looked right at
Lany. “And Dallan will ask me,
demand
to know
.
Blazing Bells, what am I suppose to tell him?”

“How about the truth?” Lany off
ered simply.

 
John let go a nervous
laugh
. “Yes. B
ut what is the truth?  Guess what Dallan
,” he began sarcastically, "
As the new
Time Master you get to step in
and
k
eep the race of
Man from annihilating themselves and oh!  D
id I mention y
ou have to get married to something with enough power to possibly tear the planet apart?"

Lany
gave John
a blank stare before
he readjusted
himsel
f in
his
chair and dug
into the knapsack.
“I’d say tha
t about covers it
.”
H
e pulled out a tiny bundle
of white linen
and began to unwrap it.

John leaned forward, intent on Lany’s bundle. “Is that what I think it
is?” he asked, awaiting the fi
nal piece of cloth to be thrown back to expose the contents.

 
Lany smiled. “Yep. Sunfl
ower cookies. My dear wife thought she’d try her hand at my recipe. Turned out pretty good too, for Cari that is. She made them for me just before Vyn and I left for Mishna.” He held the bundle out to John. “Want one?”

John took three. “Vyn is here with you? Is that wise?”

“Yeah, Genis Lee should survive. He wanted to come along as his birthday present.
"
Lany took a generous bite of cookie. “All his little
class mates
don’t expect him to return from this trip. The Muirarans will probably eat him, they say.”

John laughed, reaching for another cookie. Lany’s eyes widened, realizing the man had already gulped down the three he’d taken earlier. “Hey, take it easy with these. There aren’t that many.”

John simply nodded as he chewed and eyed the rest of the pile. “How old is Vyn now? Nine?”

Lany covered the cookies protectively with the cloth. “Seven, yesterday. And looking forward to a long and prospe
rous year of torturing the popu
lace no doubt.”

John suddenly st
opped chewing, his face somber.

Lany knew this routine. “You’ve got an idea. Admit it.”

John bega
n chewing again and wagged a fi
nger at his assistant. “I need Vyn.”

“Vyn?” Lany began a hint of concern
in his usually apathetic voice.
“Whatever for?”

“I think all Dallan needs is a little prompting. Perhaps if he let himself be around a child like Alasdair for a day or two, he might want to get it off his chest. He’s got to let go. He can’t hold onto the pain forever and besides that…”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Lany suddenly interjected, his voice a whisper.

“I’d like Vyn to spend some time with Dallan. Padric was supposed to be doing it, but he’s too shy. Vyn is more outgoing. I think he’d be able to do what Padric couldn’t.”

“What!” Lany stood. “Eaton, are you out of your mind? My living stars!
As unstable as the Scot is?
Why
he’ll… he’ll…” Lany gulped.

“I’m sorry, Lany,”
John began, his face fil
led with concern. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. You’re
right, Dallan
might very well unintentionally hurt Vyn.”

Lany plopped down in his chair. “Vyn? Who’s talking about Vyn being hurt? I’m telling you that by the time
my
son
gets through with
the
Scot,
there won’t be enough left to paint half a picture of him!”

John’s eyes widened as realization hit him: it was Lany’s son
Vyn
that had accompanied his father on this journey, not his eld
est son Jeremi. He shuddered.
How could he possibly get
the
boys mixed up? Th
ey were the diff
erence between a quiet calm summer day and a natural disaster. Even Kwaku avoided young Vyn
ant Mosgofi
an
and th
at more than anything else defi
ned the boy. “You’re right. I can’t subject Vyn to Dallan, or vice versa.”

“Eaton,” Lany began, “you’ve been working too hard.”

 
John tossed him a bewildered look.

“Don’t you look at me like that,
I know you too well. You’re exhausted. You’ve been worrying too much about this whole thing for months. Worrying won’t bring you results. Only action can do that.”

John let go a heavy sigh as he nodded his agreement.

“You know, let me talk to Vyn. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.” Lany mused then added hastily. “Just so long as it’s done in a controlled setting. I wouldn’t want to give Vyn free rein; he might plunder the Scot you know.”

“I wonder if Kwaku will approve. I’ll have to go t
hrough him. He does have the fi
nal say.” John quickly reached for the last hidden cookie, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Oh, here.” Lany handed the morsel to his superior, annoyance in his voice. “I’ll give Anwen the recipe when this is all over. How long has it been since you
’ve seen your family, anyway?”

J
ohn frowned and stopped chewing, the taste of the cookie turning sour. “Too long. I’ve been in Genis Lee for a couple of weeks and in Mishna before that.”

Lany could hardly imagine Eaton being separated from his family for
so long. His wife Anwen and fi
ve daughters were everything to him. He sat up in
his c
hair.
“Don’t tell Kwaku a thing. I
f you think Dallan would benefi
t from exposure to Vyn or other children then let’s just do it.
"

John nodded. “Not all medicine is easy to take. But I’m positive it’s what he needs at this point.” He threw Lany a stern look. “Kwaku won’t like us going behind his back.”

“As if he’s never done the same thing? C’mon, you know how Kwaku is. The Scot’s like a toy to him. He has complete and total power over him and loves every m
inute of it. I think Kwaku
needs to have the rug pulled out from underneath him a time or two.

Lany went to his superior, bent slightly and rested a hand on the Lord Councilor’s shoulder, at once noti
cing the tension beneath his fi
ngers. He gave the shoulder a ligh
t squeeze. “It’s going to be fi
ne. From what Zara tells me, the Muiraran and the Scot should bond immediately. Trust me. It’ll b
e love at fi
rst sight.”

J
ohn shook his head, buried his tired face in his h
ands and mumbled through his fi
ngers. “I hope you’re right, Lany. I pray that you are. Because if any of us are wrong in this…”

Lany nodded stoically.
"We'll just have to stand and fight."

John brought his face out of his
hands. “Yes. But how do you fi
ght something you can’t even see?
  The outer regions are becoming a morgue.  They don
’t even know what they’re
fighting ab
out.  At this point it takes just one little thing
to set the peop
le in those sectors off
and there you have it
!  Enough to start a civil w
ar!
Add to that
reports of the ol
d Rites being practiced again, t
alk of monsters and other strange c
reatures
roa
ming in the wil
ds.  Then of course you have
people
disappearing left and right
never to be seen or heard from again.
”  John balled one hand into a fist and made like he was going to hit something. “
I can’t wait to get my hands on the person responsi
ble!” 

He then
caught and cal
med himself.
“But Dallan has got to be ready to do his part.”

Both John and Lany became somber.
Kwaku Awahnee’s wife Zara was entering into her fertile stage.  Neither was allowed to serve once she became pregnant.  And even though that could be months
even years
down the road, the Elders wanted Kwaku to give up his post early and install Dallan Mac
D
onald as the new Time Master. H
ave him
be the one to find the culprit behind all the instigating and put a stop to it.

John and Lany
looked at each other, their expressions grave.

Mankind’s entire existence was
about
to be borne upon the shoulders of a very reluctant ancient Scottish Highlander who as yet had no idea that in order to save them all, he woul
d have to
willingly
join
with a specifi
c Muiraran from the
royal
house of Shamaelon. In all probability, once joined, the most powerful creature the humans or Muirarans had ever seen.

No
w all John had to do was make sure
the Scot was ready to listen.

And then of course, talk him into it.

Oh sweet shy girl, with roses in her heart,

And love-light in her face, like those up
grown;

Full of still dreams and thoughts that dream-like start.

From fi
ts of solitude when not alone!

Gay dancer over thresholds of bright days.

Tears to her eyes as laughter to her lips;

A game of hide
and seek with time she plays,

Time hiding his eyes from hers in bright eclipse.

John James Piatt

CHAPTER THREE

Somewhere in the latter part of the twentieth century…

First comes the immobilization, followed by the haunting melodic sound of a multitude of violins. Then she would be awake, sweating, her heart in her throat. Without thinking she would get out of bed and turn automatically to the bathroom acro
ss the hall to look at her refl
ection.

What she saw in the mirror after one of her dreams was always the same:
a face thin, pale,
E
lvin in appearance. Her t
ired
lost eyes, a bright green,
would
strugg
le
to recognize their own reflection. Th
e ghostly face never remained that way though
;
a minute sometimes, but no longer. About thirty seconds was average, including the time it took to get up and run from her bedroom to the bathroom.

Shona Whittard decided she must keep a mirror at her bedside from now on. That would give her more time to examine herself before the face faded away and was replaced by her own. Or was it?

She began to wonder as she dragged
herself up from the bathroom fl
oor, clung to a towel rack for support, and desperately tried to collect what was left of her sanity. “That was a close one.” The bewildered statement left her lips on a whisper, her thoughts racing about in her mind like a busy freeway. She couldn’t pin one down long enough to ward off the confusion always waiting for her after the face faded. As if her own mind didn’t want her to ask the obvious. And this time
was even worse. This time what she saw in the mirror
had
caused her to vomit
and
nearly faint
.

She wiped at her mouth as she mindlessly flushed the toilet.  After closing her eyes a moment she stared at herself in the mirror
again
.
Answers. She needed answers.

Shona took a nearby cup, filled it with water and rinsed the sour taste of vomit from her mouth.  She then
straightened herself slowly. A lancing pain in her right shoulder had kept her from moving much of the afternoon and now wanted to render her immobile. She rubbed it gingerly. “First I lose my mind,
and
now
this
.”