Keeper of the Black Stones (46 page)

“Almost there, girl, almost there,” I repeated over and over again, willing the animal forward. I steered her over a nearly empty stream bed and past several logs before pulling up on the reins, drawing her to an abrupt stop. There was the break in the trees that I'd been looking for. Doc had been here moments earlier.

“This way!” I shouted. My horse, thankful to continue at a slower pace, made her way carefully through the narrow opening in the trees. For nearly a minute we crawled around small bushes, rocks, and juniper, small oak, and maple trees, searching for Doc.

Suddenly my mind screamed for me to stop. I pulled abruptly back on the reins and looked to my left. There, inside a small clearing, I saw a lone figure riding tall atop his large horse. It was Doc.

My body flooded with relief. Alive. He was still alive. Then I looked behind him. The three men were there, hidden in the trees. The bowman already had his bow out, the arrow notched.

“Doc!” I screamed. This time he heard me. He turned his head, searching. The archer releases his arrow at the same moment. I watched as the arrow found its mark, striking Doc in the chest and throwing him out of the saddle and to the ground.

I screamed again, this time in anguish. I was too late to save him, but not too late to watch him die…

34

“N
o!” I screamed, leaping from my horse to race toward my grandfather. In the last three days, I'd found my world crumbling, been shot at, split the fourth dimension like an Oreo cookie, and landed in a castle five hundred years in the past. I'd rescued a fair maiden in distress, fought barbaric Danes and Medieval soldiers, and been abducted and threatened with torture. I'd been thrown in a dungeon, which I then escaped with my own brand of magic, run from a man trying to derail history, and raced recklessly through a land I didn't know.

All to get here in time. All to save the world and its history. And
this
was how fate repaid me? By killing Doc?

That was too much, even for me.

“No, no, NO!” I shouted, my fear and sorrow turning to anger. This couldn't be how it ended–it just didn't work. I reached deep and found the strength I was searching for, and doubled my pace.

The crack of Reis's rifle made me flinch, but I pressed on, able to think
of nothing but my grandfather. As I ran toward his fallen body, I realized that Reis was running with me, casually covering my path with his rifle. Footsteps pounded along behind us as well–Tatiana, Katherine, and Paul.

None of us was willing to let Doc go, not after what we'd been through to find him.

I pulled up short and fell to my knees beside the only family I had left. Doc was lying on his side, the arrow standing straight up from his ribs. I didn't touch him, at least not at first. My mind was still reeling from what had happened, and the identity of the man who now lay before me. The face belonged to Doc, but the rest of his body was that of a stranger. He wore a shimmering layer of mail over his torso and arms, and trailing down his legs to his knees. A dark red cape lay crumpled underneath him, with a black and gold leather jerkin covering his body. His mail was held together by small iron hooks, no larger than paper clips. They must have been expensive, I thought randomly–they were stamped with decorative symbols of birds, and quite beautiful. My eyes flew from this stranger's body back to his face then, seeking the familiar, and I leaned forward, looking anxiously for any movement.

“Jay… is he …?” I heard Paul's question, and felt my friend drop to his knees beside me.

I shook my head, staring at my grandfather in horror. He wasn't moving, I could see that much. The arrow had struck him squarely in the left side, right below his arm. It would have sliced through his lungs to his heart. Still, if I knew Doc…

I reached a hand hesitantly toward him, then jumped and pulled it back.

He had jerked and coughed, and was now rolling over, blinking slowly. He drew a deep, shuddering breath, as if he was coming up for air after being submerged in a pool of water. The air came out as a sharp gasp when he looked up and saw me.

“Jason?” he asked, frowning.

I nodded, smiling from ear to ear. He could breathe and he could talk, and for the moment that was more than enough. I didn't think I'd ever been happier to see him, frowning or otherwise.

He looked at me, dazed, and then glanced over my shoulder at Paul and Tatiana. I followed his gaze to see that several other soldiers had appeared, and were now sliding off their horses to surround our small group. One of the men, roughly the size of a small mountain, came straight toward us. His arms were the size of railroad ties, and each was decorated with thick silver rings, which wrapped themselves around his massive biceps. He wore his dirty blonde hair well past his shoulders and carried an immense sword. He was the spitting image of Thor.

He was also a Dane; I recognized the hair and arm rings. I whirled around, turning my back to Doc and spreading my arms protectively in front of him, and glared at the barbarian in front of me, wondering desperately who he was and what he wanted with Doc. A menacing growl grew in my throat, surprising me, and the man stopped, his eyes wide with shock.

Then I felt Doc's hand on my shoulder and heard his breathy chuckle.

“‘Tis alright, son, he's one of mine,” he mumbled. He released his grip on my shoulder and rolled onto his stomach. Taking one more deep, measured breath, he pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet. There he stretched to his full height, grunting as ligaments and tendons snapped and cracked.

I stood up, shocked at this sudden return to health, and stared at the man I knew as my grandfather.

“My Lord!” the giant soldier said with evident relief.

Doc looked at me and gave me a wry grin before directing his attention toward the large soldier. “Trigva, I'm alright,” he said in a voice that seemed stronger than it should have been. He looked down at the arrow sticking out of his side and frowned, then grabbed it with his right hand. One twist and a sharp jerk brought the arrow out cleanly, as though it was no more than a splinter.

My mouth dropped even farther open.

“Kevlar?” Reis asked casually. I looked up at my bodyguard and friend, wondering what he was talking about. He'd made short work of the attackers, I saw, and had now come to see about Doc, bringing one of the injured assassins with him.

Doc replied with a bark of laughter, then opened his cape and pointed to the mail underneath. “Yes, under a coat of titanium mesh. I had it made at home. I found it much stronger than steel mail, and a hell of a lot lighter,” he answered quietly. “With the added benefit of being conveniently arrow proof,” he added after a moment.

He smiled brilliantly at Reis, quite proud of this invention, and then turned suddenly toward me, his face growing dark. I gulped audibly. I'd seen that look before.

“Now, Jason, may I ask what the hell you and your friends are doing here?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“What?” I spluttered, not ready for the question. We'd just found Doc, for God's sake, and seen him shot with a medieval arrow! Now he was standing there as if nothing had happened, asking me what I was doing here? My mind refused to deal with the quick turn of events, or the question itself.

“You heard me, Jason. What are you doing here? And while I'm at it, how exactly did you manage it?” Doc glared at me, his eyes glowing with frustration, and I gulped again. I'd never seen him so angry before, and the fact that it was directed at me–for reasons I couldn't understand–made me slightly uncomfortable. After all we'd been though, jumping through time to save him, he was going to get angry at me? It was all too much, and I found myself suddenly growing angry as well.

“I saw you jump! I knew where you were going. And I also knew you were walking straight into a trap! Into this!” I flung my arm at the clearing, the man laying at our feet, and the arrow that now lay next to him. “I came
here to save you,” I snapped, my voice cracking.

Doc shook his head, his frown deepening. “How could you know any of that?” He paused, then made a chopping motion with his hand. “Besides, even if you did, it doesn't give you the right to come barging in here, putting yourself at risk. Jason, you could have been killed, do you understand that, boy? And then what would I have done?” He pulled me roughly against him, crushing me to his mail in an enormous bear hug. I wrapped my arms around him, adjusting my face slightly to avoid the worst of the metal links.

For a moment, all I could think about was Doc, and the fact that we'd reached him in time. My anger and confusion faded away, and I reveled in the fact that he was alive. Then the reason for our entire trip snapped into place, and I stepped back.

“They were going to kill you, Doc, and I wasn't going to let that happen.”

Doc raised his eyebrows in question, and I plunged in. “They were sent by Dresden. Or Lord Stanley.” I outlined the quick version of what I knew–the kidnapping of William Stanley and subsequent blackmailing of his brother. The plot to capture Doc. And then the change in that plot, when I showed up and Dresden declared Doc expendable.

At the end I stopped, breathing heavily, and glared at my grandfather, expecting some sort of response. He stared at me as though I'd just dropped out of the USS Enterprise, though, so I pressed on.

“Doc, I had to come back,” I repeated stubbornly. If I repeated it enough times, perhaps it would get through his thick head. “I knew you didn't know–that you thought Stanley was on your side–and–”

Doc interrupted me, placing his index finger suddenly over my lips, and I grew still. He shook his head slightly, glancing around him at the soldiers from his camp. Of course, I realized. I couldn't say too much in front of his men, who probably didn't know about the stones. I clamped my mouth shut, nodding my understanding.

He turned to the giant soldier now, barking orders. “Trigva, I am unhurt, and it seems that things have changed around us. According to my grandson, we may have lost a valuable ally. We must meet with the captains of
our guard, and anyone Henry cares to send. Set the meeting up in Henry's pavilion, if you will.” He took in a deep, measured breath before looking back at me. “And Trigva, my grandson and his group will be joining us this evening. Please inform Elizabeth of their arrival and have her prepare their accommodations. They'll be staying with me.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Trigva replied quickly. He bowed, and snapped for his men to mount up.

As they galloped off, Doc turned back to us. His whole demeanor had changed, and for the first time I saw why the men and women of this time followed him.

“We do not have much time,” he said sternly, looking around at us. “If Stanley has truly defected to Dresden's side, he takes several thousand soldiers, as well as archers and horses, with him. This is…” he paused, searching for the words, and his mouth turned down in a grim line, “a problem. Still, I believe there is time to be civil.”