by Lynn Kurland
Styrr backed up, looked at Zachary wildly, then upended the vial of poison into his own mouth.
Zachary realized his outstretched hands weren’t going to be of any use. He watched as Styrr clutched his throat, gasped several times for breath, then fell on top of the bodies already there on the floor.
He didn’t move again.
Zachary turned to Mary in time to watch her make exactly the same motions as Styrr had—only less violently and in slow motion. She put her hands to her throat, then looked at him, wide-eyed.
“My mouth burns.”
Zachary pulled her over to a stool and made her sit. He riffled through the healer’s things, looking desperately for something useful. Plantain, perhaps. Lobelia, to make her throw up. At the moment, he would have settled for anything.
He stepped over the bodies and sniffed what was on the fire. He dipped a finger, then tasted. It was bitter enough to be plantain, so he drew out a cup and hurried back to Mary’s side. She was an unwholesome shade of gray and she wasn’t breathing very well. He put the cup in her hands, but she was shaking too badly to drink. He tried to help her, but she couldn’t seem to swallow.
He bellowed for help, then turned back to Mary. “Damn you, Maryanne, don’t give in,” he said fiercely.
She only turned her face away from him and threw up. He turned her back toward him and put the cup to her lips again.
“Drink,” he commanded.
She shook her head weakly. “Can’t. Can’t ... swallow.”
He could hardly believe what was happening. It was like a bad B horror movie, only this was all too real. He shook her when her eyes started to close.
“Mary, drink!”
She looked at him and attempted a smile. She failed and apparently didn’t have the strength to try again. She leaned forward and rested her head against his shoulder.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He cursed viciously, clutching her to him. Damn it, damn it, damn it to hell, it wasn’t too late. Not when he’d been within inches of saving her life. He was not going to watch her lose it like this. Not because of his own stupidity. Not because Godric couldn’t count higher than his own damned fingers.
“You’re going to be just fine,” he said hoarsely. “Just fine.”
“Nay—”
“Don’t,” he said fiercely. “Don’t give in. You’re strong enough to fight this.”
She sighed and it sounded a little as if she were sighing out her life. “You would have made a formidable knight.”
“I will,” he blurted out. “I’ll do whatever it takes, just don’t leave me.”
She only sighed again, more faintly that time.
Zachary looked around frantically in time to watch Robin stumble into the house with a small group of de Piaget cousins right behind him. Robin looked at the carnage, then at Zachary.
“Poison?”
“Styrr’s holding the vial. He poisoned Mary as well.” His eyes burned unmercifully, but he ignored it. “Someone make me some plantain tea. Hurry!” He turned back to Mary, but she was no longer speaking.
She was hardly breathing.
“Bring her upstairs,” Robin said, looking at Styrr with loathing. “I’ll not have her in the same chamber with that piece of filth.” He was almost as gray as his daughter. He looked behind him, then dragged Thaddeus forward. “Do what Zachary commands, then come to us in her chamber. If you know aught else from your sire, do that. Wake the healer, if he lives still. Parsival, keep Styrr’s mother far away from us, if you have any pity in your soul. Zachary, bring my daughter.”
Zachary picked Mary up in his arms immediately, then followed Robin from the healer’s house.
He didn’t allow himself to think at all.
Half an hour later, he knelt at the foot of Mary’s bed. Anne chafed her hands and Robin stood against the wall, watching with a very grim expression. Zachary knew most of Mary’s cousins were out in the passageway, pacing. Jackson was reportedly keeping vigil in the chapel.
He continued to use what reflexology he knew on her feet. Thaddeus had brought them all manner of teas, but Mary hadn’t been conscious enough to drink them and he hadn’t dared try to force them down her throat.
He cursed himself silently. He should have seen it coming. He should have slept outside her door. He should have demanded that she come to the lists with him that morning even though he hadn’t because he’d known she would be more comfortable sitting by her mother’s fire. He should have done a dozen things he hadn’t thought to do and now he wouldn’t have a chance to since Mary would die because he’d been stupid enough to think he had his history down.
He blinked, but he still couldn’t see her. He wasn’t particularly eager to add anything to his already doomed list, but perhaps eliminate arrogance about all things paranormal should have a special place there. He’d marched around in a time period not his own with a sort of abandon that should have shocked him. Even with as cavalierly as he and Jamie popped through the ages, they had at least attempted to leave as little trace of their passing as possible. He should have taken his own advice. He’d been training with Robin de Piaget, for pity’s sake. That wasn’t exactly in keeping with his policy to lie low and do as little as possible. And where had it led him?
To watching a woman he loved continue on a relentless course toward death.
Even with all the things Patrick had taught him about medieval herbs and their uses, he’d been unable to do anything. It was tragic that he hadn’t known where he was going or what he would be doing. He might have been able to bring with him some species of modern med—
He froze. Modern medicine.
He felt his mouth fall open. If he could find a way to get Mary back home to a hospital, perhaps he could save her. All he had to do was get to a time gate.
Unfortunately, the nearest working gate was two weeks away on foot. Even on horseback, it would take him four or five days of hard riding.
Unless Anne’s solar had changed its mind about its usefulness.
He bowed his head for several minutes, wondering if it might be possible to find the impossible within reach. He pushed himself to his feet, then made Robin and Anne a low bow.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said quietly. “I’ll return.”
Anne looked up and nodded, her face full of grief. Robin didn’t look up; he merely stared at Mary in silence. Zachary looked at her once more, then left her chamber. He walked past the cousins there without speaking to them, then continued on until he was standing in front of Anne’s solar. He opened the door, then stood in the doorway.
Nothing.
He walked inside, then turned and walked back out. He did it several times and felt nothing each time. He paused with his hands on the door frame, then swore.
And then he realized he wasn’t alone.
He looked up to find Robin of Artane standing in the passageway, watching him silently. Zachary was just too tired to come up with a good reason for what he was doing, so he settled for a partial truth.
“I’m losing my mind.”
Robin only lifted one eyebrow briefly.
Zachary opened his mouth and words he hadn’t intended to speak came tumbling out.
“My lord, I think I can save her.”
Robin was silent for a moment or two, then he gestured to the solar behind him. Zachary turned and walked inside, then waited until Robin had shut the door before he spoke.
“My lord,” he began, wondering how in the hell he was going to say anything he needed to and not sound like a raving lunatic, “I know where Mary might have a chance of being healed.”
Robin leaned back against the door. “Do you?”
“I do.” He wished he’d managed to get Robin to leave his sword outside, but he imagined Mary’s father didn’t need a sword to do damage with. He would just have to take his chances. “The only problem is, I would have to take her home with me.”
“And where would home be, Zachary?”
“The Year of Our Lord 2006,” Zachary said.
Robin didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, didn’t reach for his sword. He merely stood there, apparently digesting what he was hearing. Zachary wondered if he might possibly master that completely unreadable look by the time he reached Robin’s age. Probably not; it was that good.
“Explain,” Robin said without any inflection at all in his voice.
Zachary attempted a smile, but he failed. “As impossible as it sounds, there are doorways scattered all over England and Scotland. Doorways through time. On one side of a doorway, or a spot on the ground, or a ring in the grass, is one century. Step through the exact spot at the right moment and you’ll find yourself in another century.”
“Interesting,” Robin said very quietly.
“Disconcerting,” Zachary said, taking a deep breath, “especially when you aren’t expecting it. I found myself using one of these doorways a fortnight ago. I was in this chamber, only in the year 2006. I stepped out into the passageway and back to your year of 1258. When I realized what had happened and turned to get back to my time, I found the doorway—the gate through time, rather—closed.”
“Proof?” Robin asked.
“My clothes,” Zachary said without hesitation. “Though perhaps you didn’t see them.”
“I saw them.”
“And?”
Robin pursed his lips. “They were odd, I’ll grant you that. So, if you are from—when was it?”
“2006.”
“Aye, then,” Robin said. “Then why didn’t you go back right away?”
“I’ve been trying,” Zachary said frankly. “I tried another pair of gates, one between here and Raventhorpe and another to the north of Seakirk.”
“I’ll give you Seakirk,” Robin said with the faintest of shudders. “Odd things happen there.” He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. “If I were to believe this madness you spout, am I also to believe your healers in this 2006 of yours can heal my daughter?”
“My lord, I don’t think we have any other choice.”
Robin’s mask slipped a little and Zachary saw the slightest hint of what the day was costing the man.
“But perhaps by morning—” Robin said finally.
If only that was the extent of it. Zachary wished heartily for something very strong to drink, but since he didn’t have it and wouldn’t have dared indulge even if he had, he supposed he was fresh out of ways to numb himself. He took a deep breath.
“My lord, there is more.”
Robin went completely still. “Is there?”
Zachary nodded. “When I was in this very chamber, I read a book that contained a history of your family. All your children, and your grandchildren, and all their descendants. I saw the death dates of quite a few people, but one stuck out to me, though I didn’t understand why. I didn’t even understand who it was at the time because the name given there is not the name the woman goes by here.”
Robin walked across the room and collapsed into a chair. “Maryanne.”
Zachary nodded slowly.
“You know the date of her death.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“April 12, 1258.”
Robin put his face in his hands. A low moan escaped him, the first sound of grief that he’d made yet. He was silent for a handful of moments, though his breathing was very ragged. He finally looked up, his face haggard. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Zachary shifted uncomfortably. “To what end? To change the past is to alter the future with disastrous results.” Damn it, why couldn’t he get James MacLeod’s voice out of his head? “That is why I left in such haste when I asked you for a horse. I realized who Mary was and what her fate was. I thought I had no choice but to leave her to it.”
Robin looked at him, his eyes bloodshot. “Yet you returned.”
“How could I not?” Zachary asked. “I love her.”
He heard the words come out of his mouth and wondered if they were yet another in a long list of things he shouldn’t have said.
Robin, however, only looked at him with pity. “I believe you do, lad.”
“And since I couldn’t simply blurt out what I knew,” Zachary said, casting about for something else to say to keep from showing the devastation he felt, “I thought that if I could get her safely past today that she would be free to live out her life as she saw fit. Only I misunderstood the date and thought today was the eleventh.” He forwent any discussions of Julian calendars or Gregorian calendars or anything else that would only have given Robin a reason to draw his sword.
Robin rubbed his hands over his face. “Have you done this often?” he asked flatly. “This traveling through time?”
“More than I would like.”
Robin looked at him for several minutes in silence, then he cleared his throat. “You’re certain this doorway here won’t work?”
“Positive. My only hope is a place near Falconberg.”
“Too far.”
“I agree, but I don’t have any other choice.”
Robin looked off into the distance for several very long minutes in silence, then turned back. “Perhaps you do.”
Zachary felt a stillness descend in the room, a stillness full of secrets and things left unsaid and knowledge that shouldn’t have been had. He looked at Mary’s father to find the man looking back at him with a glance that was full of things he shouldn’t have known.
“What are you saying?” Zachary asked weakly.
“I understand there is a particular place near my hall,” Robin said slowly. “Full of magic. I have no experience with it myself, but I’ve heard strange tales told of it.” He paused. “I’ve heard that ofttimes a soul will just walk over the ground there, then disappear. My brother Montgomery swears he saw it happen once, though he’s convinced ’tis a gate to Faery.” He paused. “You might have a different opinion.”
“Where?”
He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll show you.”
Twenty minutes later, Zachary was standing in front of a gate that he could see shimmering in the air in front of him. He was stunned to realize how close it was to Artane and wondered, absently, why he hadn’t seen it before. Then again, he’d never had occasion to wander away from the village in that direction.
He looked at Mary’s father. “This will work.”
Robin only nodded once. “We’ll wait until dark, then.”
Zachary would have preferred to leave immediately, but he could see that it wouldn’t do for him to carry Mary out of the keep and disappear with her. He walked with Robin back to the hall, then went with Artane’s lord to Mary’s chamber. He sat in a corner and watched as Robin spoke with Anne. He bowed his head so he wouldn’t have to watch Mary’s mother weep. Listening to her was enough.
In time, Robin called Mary’s cousins in. He told them that he thought she wouldn’t last the night. He bid them say their good-byes, for Robin suspected they would need to bury her before morning. Zachary listened with only half an ear to the excuses Robin gave. None of them made any particular sense to him, but the lads seemed to accept them all easily enough. Zachary exchanged several manly embraces with men he had come to feel a very brotherly affection for. Even Jackson hugged him briefly without a blade in his hands.
He waited with Robin and Anne until the hall settled down for the night, though he died a bit with every moment that passed. There wasn’t anything he could do to hurry the setting of the sun, and he wasn’t going to hasten a parting that he was sure would break Robin’s and Anne’s hearts both. He studiously avoided thinking about the fact that he would have Mary when her parents would not.
If she lived.
When the time came, he went downstairs and saddled Robin’s and Anne’s horses for them and waited for them in the courtyard. Anne took Mary before her on her horse and covered her with her cloak. Zachary took her reins and led her horse for her. Robin rode ahead, then had a quiet word with the
gate guard. The portcullis was raised, then lowered behind them.
Zachary felt a terrible need for haste, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurry Mary’s parents along. He watched the landscape as he walked, trying to visualize it in the twenty-first century. With any luck, he would land close to a phone, then he would make a call and get Mary to a hospital.
He stopped when he felt the tingle of that very large X in front of him. Robin swung down off his horse, then held up his arms for Mary. Zachary helped Anne down, then tucked her hand under his arm as he walked with her closer to the gate. He stopped, then looked at Mary’s parents. The moon came out from behind a cloud and shone down on them.
“You shouldn’t come any closer,” Zachary said quietly.
Robin cradled Mary close. Anne was weeping softly. She turned to her husband and put her arms around both him and her daughter. They stood there together for many long minutes. Zachary bowed his head, to give them as much privacy as possible.
And he prayed he wasn’t making yet another colossal miscalculation.
He supposed there was nothing else to be done. He could leave Mary in the past and she would most certainly die, or he could take her to the future and hope to heaven that someone would be able to reverse the damage the poison had done.
Anne kissed her daughter once more, then turned and looked at him.
“You won’t leave her.”
“Nay, my lady,” he managed, “I won’t.”
Robin took a deep breath, then stepped forward and carefully put Mary into Zachary’s arms. He put his hand on Zachary’s shoulder.
“Take care of her.”
“I will, my lord,” Zachary said gravely. “She will not lack for whatever I can provide.”
Robin put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Then be off with you. Have a care with the both of you.”
Zachary nodded. He backed up, holding Mary in his arms. He continued to back up until he found himself standing in the center of the gate. And once he was there, he focused on the proper year. He watched as Robin and Anne shimmered in front of him.