Darkness of Time, page 5
My gaze landed on the dim embers of one of the soldier’s campfires. It would hurt like hell, but maybe I could burn the ropes from my wrists. Burns could heal, right? I’d need to watch out for soldiers stirring from their sleep and not catch my clothes or hair on fire, though.
“I have an idea. Wait here.”
“What are you doing?” Emily hissed, alarm creeping into her voice.
“Just wait.” I wriggled to the end of the wagon and maneuvered to the ground. Then, I waited, listening for any signs of the men. The hooting of an owl and the distant howl of wolves filled the night with their lament.
I crept toward the fire and crouched near it. Taking a deep breath for courage, I pivoted so my back was to the coals. I swung my head forward so my hair fell before my shoulders.
The heat felt great, warming my frigid skin. But it wouldn’t feel so nice in a minute—not when it blistered me. I planned on igniting the rope, then pulling until it gave way, hopefully before I was too badly burned.
Here goes.
I glanced over to the wagon.
I could barely make out Emily’s faint outline, and it looked like she was watching me. That gave me strength. She was expecting me to rescue us.
I held my hands close to the embers and closed my eyes.
The warmth of the fire turned into searing, painful heat as the flames licked my skin and ate at my shirt sleeves. I yanked and tugged at my hands, feeling the rope start to give. Finally, the sisal snapped. I lunged away from the fire and batted my sleeve-covered arms on the damp ground, trying to extinguish the flames. At last, I got the fire out, but not without scorching my skin.
Never mind, I was free. After getting the rest of the rope from my waist, I glanced around the camp. The soft nickers and snorts of the horses added to the symphony of night insects.
I know I can ride in the dark, but can Emily? Better yet—can Charlotte? Only one way to find out.
I returned to the cart and whispered, “All right, Emily. I’m free.”
I held out my hands.
“But are you injured? I saw your shirt caught fire,” Emily said, her expression concerned.
“It’s nothing. Turn over.”
Emily rolled onto her belly, and I quickly freed the knots in her rope.
“Okay, you’re untied. You work on Charlotte while I go get us some horses. Can you ride?” I wound the rope that had bound Charlotte’s waist and wrists, intending to use it as a makeshift halter.
Emily nodded.
“What about your sister?”
“Not very well,” she said.
“One of us will have to ride with her, then. Can you do it?”
Again, Emily nodded.
“Okay, good. We’ll have to hurry, so get her untied and convince her to cooperate.”
“I’ll try,” Emily said determinedly.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I crept toward the horses, staying alert for noises.
When I reached the horses, I discovered the men had left their leather halters on but had removed the reins. Good news and bad news for us. We could lead them but had no way to steer them once we were riding—unless I managed to tie the rope to the halter.
I fastened the ends of the rope to one of the horse’s halters. Then, I slipped my hands inside the halter of another horse and led the pair away from their friends.
The roan-colored horse came willingly, but the Appaloosa, the one I’d managed to put makeshift reins on, balked. I tried to stay calm as I coaxed him along.
He was a handful—I’d have to be the one to ride him.
When I arrived back at the wagon, Charlotte was in a state of protest again.
“No, we can’t leave Papa,” she wailed.
“Shh, shh, shh. Papa’s dead. We have to leave him. He’d want us to leave,” Emily hissed. She looked in the direction of the encampment, and her eyes widened. “Oh, no. Someone’s coming.”
I glanced over my shoulder as two men stumbled from their tents.
“Hey! Stop!” one of them shouted, sprinting toward us on his bare feet.
“Shit. We have to go.” I vaulted on the back of the fussy Appaloosa.
Startled, it bucked and reared on its hind legs, trying to dislodge me.
I clung to its mane and clutched its sides with my legs.
Emily clambered on top of the wagon and swung her leg over the top of her steed. “Charlotte! Get behind me!”
“No!” Charlotte cried. “I refuse to leave Papa!”
The men grew closer, cursing and swearing as they stumbled across the rock-strewn ground.
Other soldiers popped out of their tents.
“We’ve got to go. Now!” I said.
One of the men lifted his rifle and aimed it at us.
“Charlotte! Hurry! Climb on!” Emily said.
“I’m scared.” Charlotte sobbed.
The rifle exploded, and Charlotte threw backward.
Emily screamed. Her horse bolted.
Mine galloped behind hers. As if this was a race, mine surged ahead, running for its life. All I could do was hold on for the ride. I was sad about what had happened to Charlotte. But going back and saving her meant both Emily’s and my death.
Far behind us, the sound of galloping hooves struck the ground. More shots were fired. Thankfully, it was dark, so the bullets didn’t even come close to us. Still, the explosive sounds spooked our horses, and their speed increased.
We galloped through the night. I didn’t know what happened to our pursuers, but I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that we were free. We raced until dawn’s light appeared in the sky, lending substance to the world around us that had only been shadowy shapes before.
I glanced behind us. Seeing no one, I slowed my horse to a walk. I stared at the start of a beautiful sunrise pushing through the thin clouds surrounding us.
Emily’s horse slowed also.
“That was close,” I said to Emily. “Are you all right?”
Our horses breathed heavily as they picked their way through a forested landscape to the tune of morning birdsong.
“Yes,” Emily said in a strangled voice. “My poor sister. She’s dead. They killed her.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. And then another, until she sat quietly weeping.
“I’m so sorry for your losses, Emily. I know what you feel inside—all the pain you carry,” I said.
“I know. It’s awful. But I keep reminding myself how spoiled rotten she was by her mother.”
“Her mother? Don’t you share the same mother?”
Emily shook her head. “My mother died in childbirth while birthing me. Father married Margaret when I was three.”
“I see—so Charlotte is a half-sister,” I said, guiding my horse toward a copse of trees and the sound of water.
“Yes, but Papa and Margaret doted over Charlotte. She was born a sickly child, and they almost lost her, so they always tried to protect her.”
“I’m sorry, Emily. It sounds like you haven’t had the easiest life.”
Emily’s shoulders rose and fell. “I learned early on not to complain. Charlotte did that enough for both of us. I always tried to keep my nose down and help Margaret with the cooking, cleaning, and washing. Whatever needed to be done.”
Emily had a good attitude.
We approached a meadow near a babbling brook.
“This might be a good place to rest our horses and ourselves. I’m exhausted,” I said.
“Me, too. I can barely keep my eyes open.”
I halted my horse and slid from its back as Emily did the same. I untied one end of the rope from the halter and affixed it loosely to a tree. The horse could still escape if needed but would be fooled into thinking he was restrained.
The horses got busy eating the sweet grass.
I flopped on my back in the meadow.
“How are your burns?” Emily asked, settling beside me.
“I don’t want to look yet. They hurt, but I’m trying not to pay them any attention.” I propped myself on my elbows and gazed at the creek which meandered between the banks. As soon as I rested, I would take a dip and get clean. “So, what was your father like when you were growing up?”
“Oh, he always seemed to carry a lot of secrets. I wondered if he was up to no good when I discovered a pile of weapons in the barn. But I’ve wrestled with this knowledge, desperate to see him as a good man. Margaret never pressed him, but I could see the strain it put on her. As far as I could discern, he’d disappear at odd times and return hours later without telling her anything. I think that’s why she poured so much of her attention into Charlotte, cooing and fussing over her. Margaret was miserable in her marriage.”
“Why do you refer to her in the past tense?”
“She died a couple of years ago. She caught the consumption. After that, Charlotte became even needier. It was up to me to see to her needs since Papa was mostly absent. I hated it.” She pursed her lips and stared into space.
Consumption was what we called tuberculosis in the 21st century. “That must have been awful.”
Her gaze slid toward me, then flitted away. “It wasn’t that bad when Margaret was alive. In a way, it’s a blessing that Charlotte died, too. I would have had to shoulder the burden of her care.” Her eyes widened in horror, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I can’t believe I just said that. God will smite me down.”
“All you did was say the truth, Emily. If Charlotte had lived, we would have done our best to care for her.”
Emily lay down beside me and looked up at the blue sky. “So, that’s my story. What about yours?”
I studied a wispy cloud as it meandered overhead. How much could I reveal to her, given that I came from a different century? Well, two centuries now, if I wanted to be precise.
“There’s not much to tell. I lost my family, too. Both my mother and my father were killed.”
Emily gasped. “Olivia! That’s awful!”
I turned to face her, resting my head on my elbow. “It was heartbreaking. I’ve lost everyone close to me. Even the man I loved.”
One lone tear escaped and dripped from the side of my nose.
“Oh, dear!’ Emily turned to face me and patted my hand. “You poor thing! So you know tragedy, too. Was he killed, also?”
More tears trickled from my eyes. “I don’t know where he is. We got separated on our journey. I miss him with all my heart.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet that you found true love!”
“It sure was sweet. I met him after I was betrayed by the man I thought was my true love.” My stomach squeezed into a knot at the thought of Tristan.
Emily stayed quiet, letting me sort through my thoughts.
“It was surprising to find love in an unexpected place. It took me a long time to trust him—I carried the wound of betrayal with me for a long time. I love Roman with all my heart and soul.” I sniffled.
“That’s a beautiful story, Olivia. Don’t worry. You’ll find him again. Love always finds a way. Keep the faith.”
She reached up and fished a necklace free from beneath her soiled dress. She gave it a squeeze, then tucked it back inside her collar.
“What’s that necklace?” I asked.
Emily’s gaze grew wistful. “It’s a part of me. It reminds me of my mother. Father said it was hers, and she wanted me to have it. He gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.” She rolled on her back, pressed her hand to her sternum where the necklace lay, and fell into her memories.
I rolled over, too.
It had been two days since I’d seen Roman, but it felt like a lifetime. The thought of never seeing him again, feeling his touch, or waking up next to him felt as heavy as a coffin stone over my chest.
Oh, Roman. I thought I was doing the right thing by sending us together somewhere, but all I did was separate us.
I wiped my eyes with my grimy, blister-covered hand. I was in pain, inside and out.
“Olivia?” Emily said in a small voice.
“Yes?” I said, still watching the sky.
“What are we going to do next? I’ve never had to survive on my own.”
I thought of all my survival training and my time in Rome, where I had to start over. “I have. Let’s get some rest and then clean up a bit. Maybe there’s a town nearby where we can find an inn or something.”
“I don’t have a way to pay for an inn. Do you?” Emily said.
“No,” I said glumly. Even if I had money, it would all be coins from 208 A.D. “But we’ll figure it out.”
I hoped we would. If I could survive ancient Rome, I could find a way to endure 19th-century America.
“Let’s get some rest before we make any decisions. Then, we’ll forage for food. After cleaning up.”
What I would give for a hot shower. Oh, well. A creek will have to do.
I fell fast asleep with one thought on my mind
Where is Roman?
Roman
I listened as the guards discussed our fate from outside the hopper windows. Things didn’t look good for Marcellious and me.
Ideas were tossed about like hanging us from a tree and disemboweling us to warn other traitors of the fate due them. Apparently, they didn’t believe a word I’d said about getting drunk and swimming before the Kiowa attacked us.
Another fellow suggested they bind our hands and feet and drag us behind the wagons until the skin ripped from our flesh, and we finally succumbed to death.
I didn’t care for either option. So, armed with my dagger and a flint striker as my only means of escape, I nudged Marcellious’ sleeping form.
“Hey,” I said. “Wake up.”
He mumbled something unintelligible.
“Hey,” I said again, poking him with my foot. “Wake up.”
I studied the wound on his shoulder. At least he’d stopped bleeding. The bandage had dried into a stiff dark-red stain over the bullet hole.
The late-day sun filled the cellar with stifling heat, making the rotting corpse in the corner smell like hell. I pressed my palm to my nose and mouth. It sort of helped stifle the disgusting smell.
“I said, wake up.” I kicked his side with more force.
Marcellious let out a groan.
“Fuck off.” He glowered at me.
“We’ve got to get out of here. In the morning, they’re going to be on the move, either dragging us behind a wagon until our skin falls off or hanging us from a tree and gutting us.”
Marcellious’ eyes popped open. “How do you know that?”
“I overheard them while you were sleeping, princess.”
“Some sleep. I was having nightmares about landing in the same place as you.” He glared at me with his bloodshot eyes. “Seems the nightmare is a waking dream.”
“We landed where we landed. You can thank Olivia later. But now, we need to escape.”
“Do you have any ideas?” With a groan, Marcellious struggled up to sit. He visibly paled, no doubt from the pain stabbing his shoulder.
I struck the flint striker. “Where there’s a spark, there’s a flame.”
He scoffed. “So you’re going to waltz up to one of the buildings and strike that flint enough times to catch the timber on fire? Good luck with that.”
“What, you think I don’t know how to start a fire?” I rolled my eyes. “Actually, over the scent of death down here, I caught whiffs of smoke. They’re probably setting up campfires for their evening meals. And they’ve got hay in their wagons for the horses. All it would take is a few embers to start the wagons on fire. Then, we push them toward the tents and flee in the chaos.”
“Have you forgotten I can barely lift my arm? I’m useless to your plan.” His expression was bruised with frustration.
“Not entirely. If we can trick one of the guards into coming down here, I’ll kill him, take his uniform, and put it on. Then, I’ll push you outside, pretending to be a soldier, and tell everyone I received orders to take you out and shoot you before taking care of the other one.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Marcellious glared at me.
“Not at this moment, no. But pull something foolish, and I’ll happily oblige you.”
“Does that mean you’re going to untie me?”
“Not yet. You need to remain restrained until we’re free.” I made my way to the hopper window and searched around for soldiers.
They all stood or lounged in the distance, preparing fires near their tents or tending to their guns.
A couple of them were skinning the carcass of a deer, no doubt for their evening meal.
“Come on,” Marcellious said. “You’re free, and I’m in no condition to fight you as much as I’d like to. But I gave you my word to be your ally for twenty-four hours. So, fucking untie me.”
“You’re in no condition to bark orders at me, either,” I snapped, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
He had a point, though. If I had taken him outside restrained, I might not have had time to free him when we had to run. And I could overtake him in a fight.
“Fine,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said.
I crossed to where he sat, crouched behind him, and used my knife to slice through his bindings. Finally, I had him free of his restraints.
“Oh, that’s better,” he said, drawing his arms before him. He winced at the pain in his shoulder and used his non-injured arm to push himself up to standing.
“All right, now how can we convince one soldier to come down here?” I said.
“Maybe we don’t have to do any convincing,” Marcellious said, looking past my shoulder.
I pivoted to see what he was referring to.
Booted feet strode toward the cellar, and seconds later, the door creaked open.
“Sit down,” I hissed, and Marcellious and I sat, jerking our arms behind our backs.
The lone soldier clomped down the stairs bearing a platter of something edible. “Last meal, gents. Tomorrow we’ll put you out of your misery.”
He grinned, revealing blackened teeth.
“We can’t exactly eat it without using our arms, can we?” I said.
