Boundless Hearts Read online

  Hagan took his time to explain how the series of events would unfold and closed by telling him that he would not remember any of it.

  “Would you?” Magnahul asked.

  “Yes, I have a device that allows me to remember both histories.”

  “You are an interesting little man, my dear Rylen."

  “I have one more thing to tell you. I am afraid this is the last time, you and I will ever see each other. The Hagan and Magnahul in the past will still continue, but you and I – the two of us who stand in this moment will no longer meet.”

  A momentary sadness passed his countenance as he looked on Hagan.

  “Then things must be said now before it is too late."

  Hagan stopped and wondered what the wise man was possibly thinking.

  “What is the nature of your relationship with my daughter?”

  “That’s complicated.”

  “Tell me. I can be patient on occasion.”

  Hagan explained to him that the girl in the image he saw was the girl that he loved and went on to explain to him how the journey to this land came about.

  “I never understood why I landed here,” Hagan remarked. “Until Bronia told me that ever since she was young, she remembers seeing that face in her dreams.”

  “Bronia knows of the face?”

  “Yes.”

  “When I see Bronia, I have the same feeling inside that I used to have when I was with Clarissa.”

  “Bronia reminds you of this Clarissa?”

  “No. Bronia doesn’t remind me of Clarissa. Bronia is Clarissa. But I do not know how.”

  “I may never understand the way time travel works," Magnahul said, thinking that there was something in the process that he just was not getting. How could his daughter be someone in the future? He was surprised to find that Hagan did not know the answer either.

  “All I can say, my lord, is that when I see her, I feel the same way, and I know she feels something too.”

  “Yes. That she does. I can see her heart in her face. You must keep one thing to yourself once I tell you. Do you promise to carry this to your grave, in this time or any other?" Hagan thought long and hard about what he was going to hear and what exactly he would be promising to do. He still, nonetheless, finally agreed.

  “Bronia was not our daughter.” He began with trepidation. It was a secret that no one spoke about but many of the elders knew. Bronia did not share the same blood as Magnahul and his wife. “That was the only reason I allowed her to go on the mission to assassinate Clive Anstruthers – her uncle. There is no blood shared between them.”

  “Then whose child is she?” Hagan, visibly shaken to hear that, asked the somber-looking lord of the clan. Inwardly, he realized that whatever he was doing here was not random. There was a connection.

  “We don’t really know. I found her in exactly the same place as we found you and your carriage. On the northern ridge.”

  “Bronia told me that she had been seeing Clarissa’s face in the river ever since she was a little girl. Does Clarissa look familiar to you?”

  “No.”

  “When I arrived, did you think that I had something to do with Bronia?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know what that would be.”

  “Does Bronia know?”

  “No.”

  Hagan could feel the anxiety well up within him. The thought had started to develop in his mind that he may have been the reason that Clarissa had been bouncing around from one time to the next. Was the development of time travel a mistake, he wondered? Now more than at any time before he wanted to rescue her.

  Then the bombshell dropped in his mind – did their time travel cause the barrier between time trunks to crumble? What if it was the universe’s way of healing itself?

  He found himself slipping out of the conversation with Magnahul and into his own head with thoughts of what-ifs.

  “When did she arrive?”

  “She arrived nineteen winters ago. My lady was of the mind that Bronia must have just been born, no more than half a season earlier.”

  “She was swaddled in strange-cloth. It was not like what we use here in the highlands. I have kept it with me ever since.”

  “You have it here?”

  “Yes. Ava sewed it into my coat once Bronia outgrew it. It helped me remember what I was fighting for when we went on battles."

  “Can I see it?”

  Magnahul who was sitting stoically rose to remove his animal hair coat. He turned it over and pulled one of the layers of leather to reveal a piece of cloth. Hagan was not familiar with it. It had an old tag in the corner. The writings were in cursive – something Magnahul could not relate to. It read, "New York 1887."

  “It says New York,” Hagan reported.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a place. It had long since been destroyed by the great floods. It sits underwater now.”

  Silence filled the time both men pondered.

  “I know why she came here," Hagan said, breaking the silence. I was in 1885 on one of my jumps."

  “Jumps?”

  “It's what we call it when we travel through time," he continued. "I had gone to make some changes to the events in that year. Somehow the changes I made there must have caused this."

  None of this was making sense to Magnahul, but he felt reassured that at least Hagan had some inclination of what was happening.

  “Ava and I looked at it as a gift from heaven and we cherished her.”

  Hagan said nothing. He had started to drift off in thought.

  “When will you...jump?”

  “After we speak.”

  “Remember this, if nothing else, Bronia does love you. I don’t know whether you and I will be able to speak in another life, but I wanted to ask you do the right thing with her.”

  Hagan stopped to think. He had never considered doing anything but the right thing for her.

  “I left my people to come and find her. Now that I have, I don't want to go anywhere. I have one last question, my lord. When did you start to believe that you approved that it was acceptable for Bronia to love me?"

  “From the first time I saw it in her face on the day you arrived. Now make haste. Go and save her.”

  Hagan nodded, looked Magnahul in the eyes and felt a strange onset of sadness. This relationship between them, he thought, would never happen in another timeline.

  Here the loss of a loved one had sparked a closeness that would not have happened if Bronia lived. When he said goodbye to Magnahul, they would never see each other again. When Magnahul of the future and Hagan of that time meet, it would be without the fellowship of this last moment.

  Chapter 5

  Extended Return

  H agan prepared the pod for his next jump. The two days since his last return was enough to charge the pod for its onboard systems. The shard he carried was enough to make three jumps, just in case he needed it. He had invited Magnahul to watch, which the Highlander accepted.

  Once he was inside, the pod closed and began its pre-launch run-up. External cameras conveyed the surroundings to Hagan who could see the expression on Magnahuls face clearly. It was one of astonishment and sadness. The pod did get a little flashy on the outside prior to launch. The shard of Zarcionian Sapphire was already locked in and the rest was placed in the on-board safe. He had done his pre-flight checks and the systems were all in the green. Even the astral horolog was predicting a 99.99% effective success rate.

  He didn't need to override launch authority with such high percentages. The launch button turned active and he pressed it. Magnahul watched as the pod started to shift in and out of phase. He could see through the shell and see Rylen Hagan in it. Then he could see through the whole thing as though it was a glass of water. It went on like this for about fifteen seconds as his astonishment elevated to one of supreme awe. It was as though he was looking at the descent of God himself.

  As for Hagan, the world outside started to phase out as well. Inst
ead of seeing through the walls and floor around him, he started to see light and images that he had seen numerous times before. The two men were seeing the same phenomenon from their own perspectives. To Hagan, Magnahul's environment was phasing out. To Magnahul, Hagan's environment, the pod, was phasing out. To jump time, one needs to transcend phase and reappear, or phase in at the point in time and place. Within thirty seconds the show was over for Magnahul.

  For Hagan, it took a little longer than that.

  When he finally arrived, he found Lord Barnacle's chambers empty. He waited. Hagan wasn't sure how long he would take or how many people would come when they returned. He recalled that Bronia told him that she had killed him in his chambers and no one else was in there when she arrived. He relied on that information. Nothing he had done could have altered events here.

  Hagan was certain that Barnacle would return alone. Hagan took the papers that he found on the table and rummaged through some of the parchments. He saw the same parchment that mentioned the assassination of Magnahul and that the assassin laid amidst the troop that was to invade that night.

  Then he heard noises in the antechamber. Lord Barnacle sounded like he was alone and just outside the door. Hagan hid. Barnacle was a large man – not muscular, but large. He had a greater mass than Hagan and overcoming that, however clumsy he maybe would still be a problem. Bronia was a different matter. She was trained in the skill of turning one's force against them. Hagan was trained in math.

  Hagan carried his own concoction of chloroform. He added a liberal quantity to one of the fabrics he found on Barnacle’s bed and stood ready. As the sound beyond the heavy timber door neared, he hid. The pod would remain out of sight until Barnacle entered his sleeping chamber but by then Hagan would be upon him.

  Once Barnacle entered, he made his way into the inner chamber, oblivious to the intruder. Hagan slipped behind him and jumped on his back grabbing the portly man's ample neck with his forearm and stuffing his nose with the chloroform-doused fabric. The large man fell headfirst onto the hard granite floor. Just as Bronia had done with the rider, with a little help of some chemistry, Hagan had felled his quarry. This one too, broke his neck as he struck the ground.

  It didn't take but a few minutes from that point to when he heard the rumble in the facilities. Bronia was right on time. He smiled at what she would look like having just climbed through a hundred yards of the sewer. He was also ticked by what she was about to do when she saw him.

  He walked over to the waste chamber and opened the bin. The stench was indeed foul but made better by the person crawling through it. The shock of someone opening the pot from the outside triggered a sense of doom that was rapidly doused at the sight of Hagan.

  Bronia did not speak but her face said more than was necessary.

  “Don’t worry, I will explain later.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “No time to explain. For now, you need to clean and change your clothes. We have to leave soon."

  She washed in Barnacle’s private bath and wore the extra clothes that Hagan had prepared.

  “How did you bring your carriage here," she asked, upon finding it in the bedchamber.

  “You will see soon enough.”

  Once she was dressed. He moved her quickly to the pod. He did not want her to see the missives on Barnacle's table. He got into the pod, then told her to sit on him. The pod was built only for one. She had to squeeze herself in with him. The pod was not weight-sensitive, only the transportation through time required more energy, which he had in the form of shards of Zarcionian Sapphire.

  Once she was in, he punched in the settings. It was a 99.99% certain event that triggered the launch button. And, they were off. No one knew she had come in; no one knew she had left.

  Chapter 6

  An Assassin’s Prerogative

  S he had no idea what they were doing. All she knew was that she was part of some magic. She didn’t mind it as much as she thought she would. When the pod finally arrived, Hagan opened the shell and let her out.

  “Here is your dagger. In a few moments, it is highly likely that King Philip of France will come running through those doors."

  “Where are we?” Bronia interjected.

  “We are under Chateau Fountainbleu. Lord Magnahul is on his way to meet Lord Henry who is already outside the palace walls. Listen carefully, I don’t have much time.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “No time to explain.”

  “That is your answer to everything.”

  “Please, my love, trust me.”

  Bronia froze. He had never spoken to her that way before. She felt flustered and unsure.

  “When Philip comes through that door, he will be accompanied by three guards. The guards will be armed. You must slay the king and run out in that direction. He pointed toward the opposite direction. Tell me if you understand."

  “I understand.”

  “Where will Philip come from?”

  “There," she pointed.

  “Where will you run?”

  “There,” she pointed in the opposite direction.

  “How many will come out of that door?”

  “Four.”

  With that, Hagan activated the device in his hand. It was a laser decoder that was designed to deactivate the epiphysis cerebri shield. Once the shield was deactivated, Hagan began to vanish right in front of her eyes. A few minutes later the pod vanished as well.

  History had been rewritten.

  Chapter 7

  Rouen

  M agnahul stood below deck staring out of the portal in the darkness of night. The entire vessel had been instructed to sail in darkness without any indication of approach. Hagan slept peacefully. It had been some time since he slept this well. The sea breeze and the rock and roll of the tides had lulled him like a cradle robs its occupant of its senses.

  It didn’t take long. The Magnahul fleet began docking at the beach beyond sight of the port in Rouen. One ship and no one would notice if they docked in Rouen. Even five may be able to sneak in under the radar of curiosity, but the fleet this night that carried the invading party numbered in the hundreds.

  The special docking mechanism had allowed them to unload their soldiers by first light and the men were on their way. The ships that carried them then returned to sea. Aside from Highlander soldiers, Magnahul’s ships were loaded with special iron cannons.

  The Magnahul cannons were fabricated at the iron foundry that was confiscated from Kendric Flyster. Cannons made of iron with upgraded gunpowder perfected by the Alchemist allowed cannonballs the size of a Highlander's fist to penetrate any single-hull ship. All of the ships in the French fleet were single-hulled and did not stand a chance against these weapons.

  Hagan's alchemy contributed to one additional feature. The cannonballs were filled with explosive compounds, more powerful than the dung explosives that were used to crack cinder and mortar. These were designed to explode sending shattered iron from the ball into all those stood within a thirty-foot radius of the explosion.

  The ships surrounded Rouen but anchored beyond the harbormaster's lookouts. Magnahul's sailors had used the strategy of hiding behind the curvature of the earth, just beyond the horizon. All ships that attempted transport to France were turned back.

  Lord Magnahul and his men began their march while the sun had yet to illuminate their way. They moved rapidly, never once breaking their momentum, but allowing enough rest for the men. The troops would begin a run across the terrain and after a pre-calculated amount of time the rearguard would continue their run until they led the troops.

  At a given time they would stop and the rearguard that had been halted while they waited would now recommence their forward sprint. The strategy allowed the men to move great distances without stopping. Magnahul had perfected this strategy when he fought with the Vikings that invaded Inverness. He moved the entire army from Anderhal Bay to Inverness in just a few hours. Magnahul was not just
a brilliant military strategist, he was a sharp tactician.

  Lord Henry and his men had already arrived at Chateau Fountainbleu and encamped just beyond the treeline. The palace was unaware of the presence of foreigners at their doorstep. The arrogance of the commanders and the lack of foresight had caused them to leave their own backyard unprotected.

  Unlike Lord Henry’s smooth march across the northwest of France and into Paris, Lord Magnahul’s journey was not as fortunate. In his trek across the countryside, he was faced with periodic run-ins with local garrisons. He was a little behind schedule and a little short of the rendezvous point when the hapless encounter with the French troops caused yet another delay. The misfortuned and slender Frenchmen found themselves betwixt the Herculean Highlanders advancing from the northeast and the encamped Welshmen.

  The Highlanders approach, however, into the greater palace vicinity was detected by spies loyal to Philip’s court. A sense of panic erupted within the grounds of the magnificent palace as trumpets sounded the impending attack.

  King Philip, meeting with his advisors at the time, was taken by surprise. Ironically, the meeting was about the attack that was supposed to be taking place at that very moment in the Highlands. They laughed at how the barbarians of the north would be taken by surprise and how Magnahul's head would be on a pike by morning.

  When the attack was sounded, Philip's first instinct was to run. His strong sense of survival and depleted honor animated his shuffling feet to vacate the premises. His queen and princes in the chambers upstairs had been forgotten. So dire was his sense of self-preservation.

  The guards who protected him led the panicked king to the entrance to the secret subterranean tunnels in the hopes of shuttling him to safety. Little did they know that what awaited them was far worse. In Magnahul's or Henry's hands, he would have been treated as a conquered monarch, with all its rights and privileges. In the depths of the palace, however, the Isle's most feared assassin awaited His Grace.