Empire's Edge, page 8
"Wait a minute; who in Jupiter's name are you?"
CHAPTER 17 - Heading West
They were thirty yards from the boat; close enough to get there before the soldiers caught them, but not close enough to launch it and get away. The only option was to fight their way out.
Dafydd halted and spoke to the man in Latin. "They are still at the gate you fool; we are from the mines and taking these two to Deva." He shoved Megan roughly in the back to add an air of authenticity.
The solider eyed them through narrow slits, clearly unconvinced.
"Wait here," he barked, then strode off toward the gate. Megan guessed they had maybe thirty seconds, a minute at most.
"Move," Dafydd hissed. None of the other soldiers were showing much interest in them.
"Not too fast; and whatever you do, don't run," he added.
Each tension filled step elevated Megan’s heart rate and she feared it might leap out of her chest at any moment. They were no more than five yards from the boat, and it took all the willpower she possessed not to make a dart for it.
Abria placed a foot on the hull and eased herself into the boat. Hugh untied the rope securing the bobbing craft and held it taught as Megan placed her left foot on it. It looked like they were going to make it.
"Stop them." The shout resonated around the work compound.
Megan launched herself onto the craft, yelping as her knee crashed into the wooden crossbeam.
"The oars," Dafydd yelled, as he and Hugh shoved the boat away from the dock.
Three of the soldiers sprinted toward them, while the fourth ferreted around on the floor searching for something. Megan watched in horror as he straightened up, with spear in hand and raced to catch up to his compatriots.
Now aboard, Hugh settled at the oars, but Dafydd was still waist deep in the water.
"Pull Hugh; in the name of the Almighty, pull," Dafydd yelled. The boat surged forward, and after two more strokes of the oars they were ten feet from the shore. They’d made it, there was no way the soldiers would catch them. Three of the men slowed, but the fourth ran past them skidding to a halt in the wet mud at the shoreline. He pulled back his arm like an Olympic Javelin thrower.
"Dafydd," Megan yelled. "Spear."
Dafydd let go of the boat and duck dived into the water as the soldier launched his deadly projectile.
Hugh stopped rowing and watched as the spear tail wobbled, then settled. The three of them stared in morbid fascination as the projectile arced gracefully in the air directly toward the them.
Megan felt the boat shift in the water; they were heading back toward shore. She glanced over her shoulder; Hugh was pushing the oars forward.
"Why are you rowing us back to shore?" she yelled.
"The spear will fly over our heads if I do, I'm sure of it."
The spear barreled toward them, tip glinting in the soft autumn sunshine. If Hugh was wrong, one of them could pay the ultimate price for his miscalculation.
The splash was one of the sweetest sounds Megan had heard in her life. Hugh grinned as he pulled on the oars.
"See, I told you it would miss," he said.
"A little help please," Dafydd said, grabbing the hull. Abria and Megan dragged him aboard.
He stared at the rapidly diminishing shoreline. "That was a close call."
Megan shook her head; Dafydd, the master of understatement. If they were a cat, she reckoned they'd have about six lives left at this point.
Ω
"I rather wish we'd requisitioned a bigger craft now," Dafydd said, as he pulled on the oars.
Megan chuckled. "We barely escaped with our lives stealing this one."
"I've told you Megan, it's only stealing if we don't return it."
"Do you plan on giving it back?"
"Not for a while."
Most of the forty minutes they’d been on the water had been spent gazing into the distance expecting to see the sail of a ship chasing them down.
"Exactly how far is Anglesey?" Megan asked. She knew it was off the north west tip of Wales, but not much more than that.
"A long way; especially in a rowboat. Then there is the open sea to contend with. We are still in the estuary. Once we hit open water it will get much rougher," Dafydd replied.
Megan frowned. "I don't much like the sound of that. So, what's the plan?"
Dafydd pulled hard on the oars. "Let me mull on it."
Megan glanced at Hugh; he made a face and shrugged.
Dafydd called over to Abria. "Do you know these lands, my dear?"
She paused before nodding.
"Your people are the Deceangli?" he added.
She nodded again.
"So, you know the area inland from the coast?"
She tilted her head from side to side in that universal movement that implies, 'I kinda do'.
"Is there a road inland across the uplands?"
She nodded once more.
The boat changed direction and headed toward shore. There was a narrow channel running inland; it seemed familiar to Megan.
"Have we been here before?" she asked.
Dafydd smiled. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, we are heading for the point where we boarded that ship back in twelve ninety-four."
"Down the road from the abbey?"
He nodded. "Except the abbey won't be there of course."
"That’s a shame, I could have picked up my Converse," Megan muttered.
CHAPTER 18 - Familiar Footpath
Megan glanced to the left; she was pretty sure that was where the monastery's water wheel would eventually be.
"This is so weird," she muttered.
Hugh nudged her. "I saw you looking. The monastery was over there wasn't it?"
"I think so, yes."
"And yet if we made our way over now, there would be nothing."
"Not for another thousand years or so."
Hugh shook his head. "I still cannot comprehend our situation. I'll say again, it must be some form of witchcraft, there can be no other explanation."
Megan thought they'd got past that point with Hugh, then again she was starting to wonder herself.
She quickened her pace to get alongside Dafydd.
"Hugh is talking about witchcraft again; can't say I blame him."
Dafydd had a wry look on his face. "I dare say you have some questions, Megan. We have a ways to walk and the weather is pleasant enough for the time of year. Fire away."
"I'll start with the obvious one. How on Earth are you even here? You died in my arms on the battlements of Flint Castle."
"It may be the obvious question, but it is also the most complicated. Perhaps I’d better start with how we can jump in time at all?"
"Perhaps you'd better," Megan replied. Her tone not snippy as such, but in that moment she realized how much the whole thing had been bugging her, and she wanted answers.
Dafydd glanced at the sky before continuing. "The story of our people goes back many years, but recent history can be traced to the island we are traveling to."
"You mean Anglesey?"
He nodded. "Have you heard of a group of people called the druids?"
"I don't know much about them, but yes I have seen references. Didn't they have magical powers or something?"
Dafydd smiled. "Over time, their abilities have been grossly exaggerated."
"Are you some sort of druid, then?"
"Yes, and no."
Megan frowned. "Fine, if you want get all coy about that subject, but I want to know how you came back to life?"
"Think of it more as a regeneration."
Megan stopped dead in her tracks. "You mean like Doctor Who?"
Dafydd walked on, and she hurried after him.
"I recall telling you previously that I am not a Time Lord."
"After we escaped from Conwy Castle, I remember."
"Even with the power of the crystal, it is something we can do only once in our lives."
"Crystal? You mean you had another like the one you had me give to Hugh? Did the Romans take it?"
Dafydd shrugged. "They were welcome to it; the energy required for the regeneration renders the stone useless for anything other than ornamental use."
"So how come you didn't end up in the same place as me and Hugh?"
"The stone I had is not like the one in the pendant hanging around your neck. It is, how can I put it? Less precise. I emerged in the estuary; a fishing boat picked me up."
"How come we all ended up in this time period though? Why am I not sitting in my grandmother's living room watching some crappy TV show?"
"That had been puzzling me too, until that day in the arena when I saw you in the crowd with my half-brother."
In the excitement of the escape Megan had forgotten all about Osian.
"I think my crystal was somehow drawn here by his presence," Dafydd said.
"And Hugh and I were towed along in your wake?"
He stopped walking.
"I believe you may be correct, Megan. Sorry."
She shrugged. "I'd rather be here with you, than somewhere else believing you to be dead."
Dafydd smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.
The moment was spoiled by a yell from Hugh.
"We have company."
He pointed toward a clump of trees, out of which, emerged four men.
Their dress was similar — long pants made of wool, with jerkins to match. All save one had long dark hair and droopy mustaches. The odd man out had wild red hair and a bushy beard; this man led the others forward.
The group stopped a few feet in front of Hugh — the red-haired man at the front. Two of the men behind him held spears, the blunt ends of the wooden shafts resting in the dirt.
The red-haired man spoke. "What do we have here? Two Romans and two slaves wandering through our territory."
Megan had gotten so used Hugh and Dafydd’s short white tunics, chainmail, and helmets that it hadn't registered how much they stood out, or what a target it made them. Along with her and Abria by association.
The man made an exaggerated point of looking past Hugh. "On your own? No column about to march into sight?"
He smiled and turned to his companions. "It would be rude of us to disrespect the Gods and look this gift horse in the mouth, eh lads?"
He turned back, drawing his sword as he did. It was longer than the one dangling from Dafydd and Hugh's belts.
Dafydd remained calm and replied in the same language the man had spoken. "You could kill us, but it would do little to enhance your reputations. We are not Romans."
A surprised look flashed across the red-haired man's face.
"But what you wear?" He said, once he’d regained some composure.
"Necessary in order for us to escape."
"Escape from where?"
"The place where they smelt lead on the coast. We are merely passing through."
The red-haired man stared directly at Megan. "And what about the women?"
"They are passing through with us."
"Hmm, is that right? I think we'll take one as payment for using our road."
Hugh stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Tell your young friend not to be so impetuous. After all we are not being greedy, we are leaving you with one. If he's not careful we'll take what we want by force. Then you'll have neither the women nor your heads."
His chuckle became a wall of raucous laughter as his compatriots joined in.
Abria stepped forward. The cloak she'd stolen from the house draped around her. She allowed it to fall from her shoulders as she walked, revealing the short dress she wore in the brothel.
Megan was convinced that one or two would actually start drooling as Abria approached them. Knowing what was coming, she almost felt sorry for them, then again, they were being dicks, so why should she care.
Abria stopped in front of the red-haired man, reached up with her left hand and stroked his beard, entwining it around her finger. Slowly she pulled his face toward hers. In a flash her hand moved from the beard to his hair. She yanked his head back and the blade slashed across his throat before he knew what was happening.
Blood arced through the air, and Hugh and Dafydd drew their swords and raced forward. Before either of the spear wielding men could react, blades were buried into their chests.
The final man reached for his sword, hand hovering over the hilt. Hugh and Dafydd stood in front of him, the needle like tip of their weapons pointing at his torso. His hand moved away from the weapon.
"We meant no harm sir. I can be useful; you will need a guide across the hills. Where are you headed?"
Dafydd's eyes narrowed. "West."
"Then you will assuredly need a guide; Ordovice territory is dangerous."
Dafydd pointed his weapon at the man's waist. "Your sword."
The man untied his belt and the weapon dropped to the grass. Hugh picked it up.
"What is your name?" Dafydd asked.
"Elisedd."
"Well Elisedd, your first task is to strip the clothes from your companions. As your red-headed friend highlighted, dressed like this we are far too conspicuous. After you have completed that task, we shall decide what to do with you."
Megan glanced at Abria; she was watching as the man went about his grizzly task. Megan caught her eye and Abria shook her head; she clearly didn't trust him. What this meant for his longevity only time would tell.
CHAPTER 19 - More Details
Wearing woolen pants and overshirts, Dafydd and Hugh had been transformed into native Britons,
The remaining pair of pants fit neither Abria nor Megan, so they ditched them. Abria retained the Roman cloak and Megan took the last woolen overshirt. The smell suggesting that the Roman's took more care with their personal hygiene than the locals.
Underneath the overshirts, Hugh and Dafydd still wore their Roman tunics and the sandal, boot things on their feet. Both had commented how sturdy they were.
The local man carried the mail shirts and helmets, allowing Hugh and Dafydd to transform themselves back into Romans should the need arise. He didn't look thrilled to be lugging all that extra weight around, then again, no one had asked him and his friends to attack Megan and the others in the first place.
The rest of the road to the summit was deserted. No people, nor dwellings, just trees. If Dafydd hadn't told Megan this was the road they'd previously been on with Brother Cenwyn down to the abbey, she would never have guessed. She recalled the clergyman pointing out a holy well that wouldn't be built for many hundreds of years, and a wave of melancholy washed over her. Megan trusted Dafydd, but this time period seemed much wilder and more dangerous than medieval Wales. She couldn't wait to get the hell out.
Ω
With the path leveling out, Hugh was at the back of the group, keeping an eye on their reluctant pack mule, while Abria walked in front with Dafydd — Megan decided to join them.
"Dafydd," she called out.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Ah, Megan, I was just asking Abria about villages or hill forts in the area. It is a little while since I was last here."
"And?"
We should pass a small settlement shortly; she does not seem keen for us to visit though. I’m wondering if we should try our luck at Moel Hiraddug a little further down the road? I haven't decided yet what to do with our friend."
"I'm sure Abria would be happy to take care of him for you," Megan said.
Dafydd smiled awkwardly. "Indeed."
"Of course, then you would have to either dump the Roman gear or carry it yourselves."
Dafydd chuckled. "Good point."
Megan glanced at Abria, before continuing. "We were talking about your half-brother."
"Ah, yes; Osian."
"So, that is his actual name; I did wonder. One thing I am confused about Dafydd."
"Only one?"
"Okay, among the many confusing things. Where exactly do you come from."
Dafydd shot Megan a wide-eyed glance. "What do you mean?"
"Which time period?"
"Well, I have visited many different times."
"Yes, but which would you call home?"
"This is the time our story starts."
"Our?"
"Myself and Osian."
"What of your parents? Do you have other siblings?"
Dafydd chuckled. "One question at a time Megan."
"Okay; your parents?"
"Both dead."
"I'm sorry. Were you born on the island of Anglesey?"
"Osian was, I arrived there as a child."
"And no sisters?"
"No, just Osian and I."
Megan’s interrogation was cut short by a yell from Hugh. "Dafydd, what should I do?"
Their local pack mule was stationary, arms folded across his sternum. At his feet was the bundle of clothes he'd been carrying.
Dafydd started off in Hugh's direction. "What's his problem?" he shouted.
"As best I can make out, he wants water."
Dafydd chuckled. "Don't we all. He'll have to wait until we reach Moel Hiraddug."
Hugh pointed over Dafydd's shoulder.
"What about that village?"
On a small hill less than a mile away, a series of vertical logs acted as a pallisade surrounding a collection of wooden huts.
Dafydd shrugged. "We could see if they have some provisions to spare."
He pointed at the local man. "You, pick that all up."
The did as he was bid, as Dafydd strode off toward the village.
Megan glanced over at Abria; she looked less than impressed by the change of plan.
Megan caught up with Dafydd. "It doesn't look very big," she said.
"Hopefully, big enough to furnish us with some water and perhaps a few provisions."
They left the track and veered off toward the hill. The ring of vertical logs was broken by a solid wooden gate, and in front it stood a man dressed in a similar fashion to Hugh and Dafydd. He held a spear in his right hand.
Dafydd stepped forward, but before he could utter a syllable, the man jabbed the spear toward Abria.
"You," he hissed.
CHAPTER 20 - Abria's Story
Abria took two steps back and the sentry said, "Elisedd, is that you? I haven't seen you in a while; is your brother not with you?" Their human pack mule dropped his load and strode forward; smug look plastered across his face.
