Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (57 page)

“Ye mean, he left ye to do his dirty work for him.  The bloody coward.”  Dallan climbed to his feet, using Lany’s collar as a handhold the whole time.  He looked about the room expectan
tly as if he’d heard something,
his eyes at last landing on the outdoor balcony.  Lany heard it too.  It was the sound Lany least wanted to hear at the moment, or most moments for that matter.

Kwaku’s booming laugh echoed from the street below, just outside the sliding door leading to the balcony.

Dallan headed for it, never letting go of Lany as he shoved the glass door aside.  The screen did little to stop the Sco
t’s advance
as Dallan ripped it off its track and sent it hurtling over the railing to land with a clatter not two feet from where Kwaku and the rest of the company walked below.

“I knew we should ha’ gone around the block,” Angus said with a shrug.

John took a couple of seconds to connect the suicidal screen door to their present circumstances.   “I think we may have another problem,” He said, and looked up -- to see Lany in midair, two feet
outside
the railing, held only by a massive Scot’s forearm.

“Problem?”  Kwaku remarked, following John’s gaze.  “I see no problem.  Dey
are
getting along well, yes?”

John ran to below the balcony.  “Dallan!  What are you doing?”

Lany’s muttered “Isn’t it obvious?” was drowned out by Dallan.  “Bloody heathen, I want the truth and I want it now!  I’ll accept nothing else!”

“Dallan,” John screeched, “put him down!”

“I will put him down if the heathen doesna tell me the truth! 
All
the way down!”

“Boyeee,” Kwaku said as he sauntered over to where John was standing, his voice taking on the tone of an old-time ward politician.  “Boyeee, you hold de
trude
in your hand.”

Dallan’s eyes narrowed.  “I’m tired of yer games, Kwaku,” he bellowed back.

“It’s true, it’s true!”  Lany choked out.  “They had me stay to tell you!”

Dallan’s drill-bit stare turned from Kwaku to his current quarry, loosening his grip slightly as he did so.  “Why shouldn’t I drop ye right now, r
ight on that bloody blasted blac
k heath …”

Finally!  Lany found where his composure had hidden and dragged
it back.  “Because
I have three children at home!  You’ve already met one.  Now, do you want them to have to grow up without a dad like you did?”

That stung.  Dallan felt it, Lany knew he felt it, and Dallan knew Lany knew. 

Much as he didn’t like it, Dallan thought, Lany had a point.  He yanked him back over the railing, dragged him inside, and set him down hard on one end of the couch.

“Besides,” Lany added as he tried to twist the kinks out of his neck, “dropping me on Kwaku wouldn’t have done much damage, even if you got a direct hit.”

“Yer right,” Dallan said, doing
his best to make it sound like an insult.

Lany couldn’t have cared less.  “So you want to know the truth?”

Dallan grumbled
to himself
as he
let go of him,
landed in the
nearest chair and crossed
his arms over his chest.

“Even if you don’t like it?”

“I ken I’m res
igned to that! Now explain!” Th
e last two words were
more of a sonic boom than a sentence.

Lany was as ready as he was likely to get. “Okay, here goes. First of all, yes, what you think are the Faeries are real, and yes, the Maiden is one, uh, sort of.”

A Scottish eyebrow rose in silent disbelief.

Lany sighed and leaned forward in his chair to look Dallan right in the eye. “Shona is what the people of my time—John’s, Kwaku’s, Mary’s and Padric’s—call a Muiraran. In the late seventeenth century, your time, your people would call them the Faerie Folk,
though they aren’t faeries. Th
ey’re
actually something else entirely. They just sort of got caught up into a lot
of your Scottish folklore and legend.”

Dallan’s jaw twitched once, twice. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, gripping the arms of the chair as he did. His eyes slowl
y opened, their green depths fi
lled with memories, one memory in particular. He shook his head. “How could this be? That was so long ago.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Nay, it canna be.”

“It can and it is, Dallan.”

Dallan continued to shake his head. “I dinna understand how, how can she be? She doesna look like… like a…” He abruptly stood.

Lany’s face went grave. “She was kidnapped as an infant and brought here to be raised, prepared for someone wishing to use her for his own purposes. She… she doesn’t know, Dallan.”

“She doesna ken what she is? How can she not kno
w she’s a… a Mu…” Dallan’s eyes darted
furti
vely about
in silent question. “Master Lany, Shona… the wee lassie from long ago, I…”

“As far as we know, they’re one and the same.
But only you can tell for sure.
”

Dallan, his mouth half-open, fell back
into his chair. “Great Mother o'
God.”

Lany resumed his own seat, his face t
ight with fatigue and worry. "
If she can’t accept our explanation of what’s happening to her, she will die.
You’re bonded to her
,
she will listen to you
. She may already be… in love with you, and I know how you feel about her. You are the only one who can save her.”

Dallan’s face became expressionless, his jaw tight. His eyes wandered the room, trying to absorb what he was he
aring.

“Lany?” John’s voice carried through the
apartment's
closed door.

Lany sat back in his chair and let g
o a tired sigh. “C’mon in
.”

John cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. He took one look at his assistant and went to sit next to him.

Dallan slowly looked at John, his jaw dancing. “She talks to me, talks without saying a word.”

“I know, Dallan.”

“Why did ye no explain? My God, d’ye think me incapable of… of believing? Afte
r all that’s happened to me?
I dinna understand
why I had to go through all that. Could ye no stop it? And she h
urts like I do …
I’ve yet to really hear her voice. She, she’s so…” Hi
s head fell to his chest
, his whole body now shaking with unwanted emotions.

John stood and went to him
. “Th
e pain is part of the bonding, Dallan. I don’t like it anymore than you do.” He turned to Lany. “Did you tell him?”

“Most of it. What counts any way.
”

John patted the Scot on the shoulder. “Dallan, the Maiden is dying. She must join quickly.”

“Join?”

John knelt in front of him. “Join. She must marry and mate, Dallan. M
uirarans have what is called
an
‘inner
heart’ that enables them to speak with other races, heal and
.
.. well… all sorts of other things we won't go into right now.
"
He shot Lany a worried glance.

Lany nodded for him to go on.

“Their ‘inner heart’ is like our own heart in a way, but it contains their spirit, their consciousness and an almost separate entity which has a mind of its own until a mate can take it into themselves and have control.”

“Take it, John?”

“Yes
. Muirarans need a mate who can house and control that part of them, someone compat
ible with their inner heart. Th
ey need to join at a certain stage of their lives, before the heart becomes too powerful for them to handle. If no host is found, their heart outgrows the Muiraran and eventually
dies, along with
the Muiraran. Th
e Maiden’s heart called
to you, and when you answered,
we brought you here.”

Dallan’s eyes pooled with pain, his voice no m
ore than a whisper.
"
How did ye
pick me out o'
s
o many? I dinna understand
.”

“Zara found you. Knowing the Maiden’s heart a
llowed her to search out and fi
nd a suitable host. You
were the only one found
. When the right time came along, Kwaku took you and began preparing you for the Maiden.”

Dallan’s face turned to stone. “Against my will.”

John nodded. “Yes, but he also saved your life.”

Dallan snorted. “Saved my life? And lost my brother’s! I dinna see how he saved me. I would ha’ escaped with the rest. He kept me from helping my family. He killed them!”

John swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “You and the Maiden bonded as children. You would have received the
Call even in your own time. Th
e
result would have been the same, only you would have had no way to go to her.
You would be unable to join."

“What are
ye saying?
”

“Once joined with her, you’ll take on her attributes and control her ‘inner heart.’ She’s like a sword, Dallan—powerful, deadly,
sharp
—but like a sword, she can do nothing if there’s no one to wield it. Her abilities and power, all that she is, you will be also. She cannot survive without you, and you cannot survive without her. The two of you will become one, sharing the heart she now possesses. When you join she will give it to you. She’s been caring for it since the day… since the day you gave her yours.”

 
Dallan’s jaw trembled. “My God. She still has it?”

“Yes, she still has it. It
has become a part of hers, fused,
grown
together to create her ‘inner heart.’ She must give it back to you now, Dallan. If you don’t take it from her, she will die. Do you understand?”

Dallan’s entire body jerk
ed. He balled his hands into fi
sts and sank back into his chair. “The good-
for-nothing heathen. He sacrifi
ced my family, my wee brother… how could ye let him do it, John? Couldna he ha’ done something else? Found another way? Is that what it had to come to? Did no one think to give me a choice?” He snorted and stared absently across t
he room. "
M’fl
ur
,
cáite
bi
sibh
?”
His body quaked as the pain he’d been holding at bay, broke through
the wall around his heart. “Flower,
can ye no hear me?
” His breathing turned ragged as he continued in Gaelic, his voice pleading.

“Eaton, this is how it started last night.”

John nodded. “Zara’s here don’t worry. She
can take care of him. Th
ey’re
out in the hall.”

Lany jumped up from the couch and opened the d
oor
. He glanced at Dallan then quickly to Zara. “Please, please don’t let him go through it again. He can’t handle it.”

Zara took a step forward, her face calm. “Do not worry, Councilor. I will see to him.”

At the sound of her voice Dallan lifted his head, looked at her and sprang from his chair. “Dinna come any closer, Lady.” He began to back up.

“I will not hurt you, Dallan. I am here to help,” Zara spoke in a voice so soft, so compelling, that Dallan stopped and actually leaned toward her. She took another step forward and let her human features fall away.

Dallan again backed up a step. “Great Mother… Saints.” He gulped air. “Dinna come any closer. Stay where ye are.”

She smiled at him.
I will not hurt you, Dallan. I want to tell you of my
people, of the Maiden, of your destiny. Please listen to me.

“Och!” Dallan squeake
d as he sat down hard on the fl
oor, his knees no longer able to support him. He shook with a barrage of emotions: fear, awe, pain and longing. He swore in Gaelic a few times then took in the other’s reactions to the creature standing before him.

John and Lany stood, their faces understanding and patient as they waited to see what he would do next. Angus was just closing the door, having realized it still stood wide open. Kwaku…

Dallan’s eyes met the heathen’s and locked.

Kwaku stood to his full height, his chest out, head high, looking every bit the part of a proud, brutal savage and, Dallan thought, royalty. As if he held the power to rule everything and everyone. Dallan’s face fell as he suddenly realized that in all probability, the heathen did. “My God, Lady.”

 
Zara came and knelt a few feet from him. “Shona
…
”