The thing was, Sera understood what he was saying and yet she still prickled at it. She remembered what Riq had said earlier about his parents, how being a Hystorian took over your life. She tried not to resent it. She knew how important their mission was — that the fate of the world rested with them — but that didn’t mean it didn’t stink sometimes.
“So what now?” she whispered.
He grinned and started to lean toward her, one of his hands reaching out. Her heart began to pound so loudly it drowned out the Vikings trying to force their way inside. “We enjoy the time we have left,” he offered.
Sera’s thoughts went in a thousand different directions at once as Bill came closer, wondering what was going to happen next. But it didn’t matter because right then Dak came around the corner, invading their bubble of privacy.
“Hey, did you know there’s an actual saint buried here? They say a saint’s bones never rot and instead emit a sweet odor, but when I took a whiff I didn’t notice anything and it sure isn’t doing a thing to cover up the stench of all those animals. . . .” Dak’s voice trailed off when he realized he’d just interrupted something.
“In fact, I think that might be the woman who single-handedly rallied Paris against Attila and the Huns in 451. So,” Dak continued as if he could salvage the situation, “that’s pretty cool. I know how you like the stories about strong women from the past.”
“Spare me the history lesson,” Sera grumbled.
It didn’t matter anyway. They were interrupted by a massive shattering and a series of shouts as Siegfried and his men stormed into the church.
Dak’s world exploded into chaos.
“Stop them!” Siegfried roared at his men. Rollo stood between them, his sword, Kettlingr, raised. Beside him Vígi growled, baring her teeth as the hair rose along her back.
“Go!” Rollo shouted at them.
“But aren’t you supposed to be on the same side as him?” Dak asked, indicating the enraged Siegfried. He knew that for their plan to work Rollo had to convince the other Vikings to leave Normandy alone, and he was afraid that this would ruin everything.
Rollo just smiled. “Vikings like Siegfried love to fight. Tomorrow he’ll be thanking me for getting his blood moving. Now go!”
Dak didn’t need to be told twice. But he also knew how stupid it would be for the three of them to warp away in front of prying eyes. He grabbed Sera and Riq, and pulled them deeper into the church and around behind a pen of squealing pigs.
“Is it programmed?” Dak pointed at the Infinity Ring still clutched in Sera’s grasp. Footsteps pounded through the nave of the church, Vikings shoving cows and sheep out of the way as they searched for the three time travelers.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. She glanced at Bill, her face twisted with confusion and regret.
“Let’s get out of here!” Dak shouted. He waited for Sera to do whatever it was that would warp them away from 885 France. Nothing happened. The sound of enraged Vikings drew closer and closer. He caught glimpses of Rollo defending himself against four men at once while Vígi cornered two more.
It wasn’t until he saw Bill holding Sera’s hand that Dak realized what was causing the delay. “You’re going to have to let her go,” he said. “Unless you want to hitch a ride to 1814.”
“Sera,” Riq prodded, and Dak noticed that the voice he used with her was a lot softer than the one he used with him.
For a moment Sera stared at Bill and Bill stared back. Dak didn’t even begin to wonder what wordless exchange was going on between them. He huffed with impatience and finally reached for the Ring. “If you’re not going to do it, I will.”
Sera’s expression turned ferocious. It was actually pretty cool — he’d never seen her so angry (except for that one time they went to a paper presentation on proton decay in particle physics and the guy kept mixing up his quarks). But he’d much prefer it if her newfound ire weren’t directed at him.
She was forced to drop Bill’s hand to fight for control of the Ring. It was at that moment, while Dak and Sera were both distracted, that a familiar face stepped from the shadows in the back of the church, his bow held straight in front of him, string pulled taut.
Grom.
Time was up. Dak yanked the Ring from Sera’s hand and triggered the warp. But it was already too late.
The scar that cut from Grom’s eyebrow to his chin twisted his face as he smiled, letting the arrow fly. It sliced through the air almost in slow motion and it was aimed right at Sera.
“No!” screamed Bill. He launched himself directly into the path of the deadly arrow.
Time and space shimmered around the trio, a sucking sensation gathering in Dak’s stomach as it began to pull him out of reality. The last thing he felt was something damp and cold nudging against his free hand.
The last thing he saw was the arrow piercing Bill’s chest.
Even as they warped away he could hear Sera’s panicked screaming.
THE FIRST thing Sera did when she felt solid ground under her feet was throw up. She fell to her knees, oblivious to the damp grass clutched under her fingers as she tried to calm her racing heart and steady her breathing.
Bill. She closed her eyes but she could still see the arrow piercing his chest. The last thing she’d seen of him was his body crumpling, the look on his face one of disbelief. Her stomach heaved again. They had to go back and make sure he was okay.
They could go back. The Infinity Ring made it possible.
Something wet brushed her cheek. She turned her head to the side only to be confronted by the smiling maw of a massive beast. It licked her again, its mouth smelling of overripe cabbage.
It whined and nudged her with its nose, almost knocking her over. She wondered if she could somehow still be disoriented from the warp and only imagining things . . . but then realized that her mind would never be able to conjure up a smell as rancid as that dog’s breath.
Sera pushed herself to her feet. Her gaze rested on her companions. Riq stood with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised as if he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share.
Dak was completely out of place, his bare chest covered with mud and a wolf pelt wrapped around his shoulders. A wicked-looking axe dangled from one hand while the other rested on the head of the massive beast.
She knew the expression on his face all too well. He’d done something wrong and was hoping she wouldn’t notice.
She looked again at the dog and groaned. “Please tell me that creature didn’t warp with us from 885 France?”
Dak tried to look contrite. “Her name’s Vígi.”
Sera pressed a hand to her face as Riq sang, “Someone’s in trouble.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Dak defended himself. “She nosed my hand when we were warping — there’s nothing I could have done.”
“Fine,” Sera finally managed. “We’ll just take her back with us when we go to save Bill.” She started programming the Ring.
Riq yanked it from her fingers before she could even input the first coordinate. “Hey!” she cried out, reaching for it, but he held it out of her grasp.
“We’re not going back,” the older boy said. All traces of his earlier smugness were gone, his expression one of utmost seriousness.
“But you saw what happened,” Sera cried. “Bill’s hurt — he could be dying.”
“Well, technically he’s already dead since we warped a millennium ahead,” Dak offered.
Sera silenced him with a glare.
Still keeping the Ring out of reach, Riq said, “You said it yourself, Sera, we can’t go to the same time and place twice or we could end up triggering the Cataclysm ourselves.”
Sera hated having her words flung back in her face. “What I said was that every time we warped into a time or a place we caused rip
ples, but I didn’t say they would always turn out catastrophic.”
“Where do you draw the line?” Riq argued. “If we can use this thing to go anywhere and any time on a whim, why aren’t we going back to 1925 when Pol Pot was born? Why save one guy when we could save six million by stopping Adolf Hitler?”
“We’re talking about Bill,” she sputtered. “The Hystorian who saved your life!”
Riq’s expression didn’t waver. “You know I’m right, Sera.”
She spun on her heel, stomping a few steps away. She wanted to punch something or scream or both. None of this was fair — Brint and Mari hadn’t prepared them for these types of challenges, and she didn’t know how to handle them.
She knew Riq was right. But what good was a time-travel device if she couldn’t save the people she cared about?
Lingering aftereffects of the Remnant she’d experienced in the church filtered through her mind, twisting around her heart. Sometime, someplace else there had to be other people she cared about, lost to the SQ’s quest for power. Tears blurred her vision and she crouched, pressing a hand over her face.
She hated people seeing her cry. Thankfully, the two boys stood behind her, silent and still, probably having no idea what to say or do. But that didn’t stop Vígi from padding over to her and leaning her warm body against Sera’s side. The massive dog whined, the sound so high-pitched it was almost beyond her hearing. Vígi had also just warped away from someone important to her. They were both sad.
Right then and there, Sera realized just how much she hated the SQ. Before, they’d been more like an opponent — someone she was racing against to save the future. But now, after what the Time Wardens had done to Bill, after what they’d taken away from her, the SQ had become her enemy.
She dug her fingers into the ground, using her newfound anger to ease the aching in her chest. Bill had died to protect her; how many other Hystorians had given their lives for this cause as well? The three of them were part of a legacy now, and they had no other option than to fulfill it to the best of their ability.
As if sensing how uneasy Sera’s thoughts had become, Vígi stood and began to pace, stopping every few steps to sniff at the air. Her ears swiveled, listening to the noises of the early morning around them.
Dak snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!”
Sera looked up at him with unease. He wore that same expression he got whenever he was about to impart some sort of “imperative” historical fact. She loved how passionate her best friend was about history, but sometimes Sera wished he’d realize that his timing could be a bit off.
“Uh, guys?” Riq asked.
Dak ignored him, excitement brimming in his eyes. “I’ve been running it through in my head and I knew there was something about Rollo that seemed familiar.”
“I think that maybe —” Riq ventured, but Dak cut him off.
“Rollo told me his nickname was Walker, and because of the translation device I didn’t hear the word in Old Norse, which would be Ganger. I can’t believe I didn’t put this together earlier, but there’s a pretty famous Viking warrior — Ganger Hrolf.”
Upon hearing the name, Vígi’s tail began to wave furiously through the air. Dak seemed to take that as a good sign as he continued. “At first I thought it was a coincidence, but the thing about Vikings is that their record keeping was terrible — various historians refer to them with different names.”
Sera didn’t follow what Dak was saying and made a rolling motion with her hand for him to get to the point. “So?”
Beside her, Vígi resumed her pacing, every now and again stopping to nudge at Dak’s hand but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Seriously, guys —” Riq ventured again.
Dak looked from Riq to Sera. “Don’t you get it?”
They didn’t get it. Dak rolled his eyes. “It’s the same guy. Rollo is Hrolf, and I’ve read about Hrolf. I know exactly when and where he’s going to be in the summer of 911 — we can go back and return Vígi.”
“That history was in the old time stream, though,” Sera said. “We could have changed it.”
Dak shrugged. “It’s worth a try, though, isn’t it?”
The idea made Sera’s pulse pound harder. She might be able to find out what happened to Bill. Just thinking about him caused her chest to tighten. “We really shouldn’t be jumping around too much in the time stream, though,” she offered halfheartedly, hoping Dak would wave away her concerns. “Even going back for a few minutes could cause ripples.”
“Hey!” Riq shouted, stepping between them. Sera finally registered the look of panic on his face. “Whatever we’re doing I suggest we do it fast.” He pointed over Sera’s shoulder and she turned to find a contingent of soldiers running toward them with weapons drawn.
As usual, Dak seemed utterly unconcerned, his mind instead turning to the fascination of a new time period. “What do you think they want?”
Riq rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing they’re wondering what a black boy, a savage, a wolf, and a girl wearing a medieval tunic are all doing on the front lawn of the White House.”
DAK DIDN’T dare interrupt Sera as her fingers flew over the Infinity Ring, plugging in the date (July 20, 911) and location (the colline de Lèves) he’d given her. He still carried the axe from 885 Paris, but the weapon would be useless against the men bearing down on them. They carried rifles with bayonets on them.
Vígi planted herself in front of Dak, her lips drawn back and body vibrating with a growl. He kept his hand tangled in her ruff, worried that she might bolt after the soldiers. If that happened, they’d never get her back to her master.
Finally Sera cried out, “Got it.” She grabbed Riq with one hand, and Riq held on to Dak, and then the world around them began to shimmer and twist. Dak still wasn’t used to the way his stomach dropped and his skin seemed to tighten as they warped through time.
It was as if his body knew they were doing something unnatural, and was protesting. It didn’t help matters that he had no idea what he’d just gotten them into. According to the history he’d read, the three of them should be warping into the middle of a Viking camp while Rollo celebrated the defeat of the town of Chartres.
Except that he couldn’t stop thinking about what Sera had said and it made him uneasy. Of course their involvement in the Siege of Paris had changed history — that was the point of going back to fix the Breaks.
What if the Battle of Chartres never happened? What if Rollo wasn’t there? Realizing that the history he knew and understood so intimately no longer existed was more disorienting than the feeling of being whipped through time.
These thoughts still whirled through Dak’s mind as everything around him grew still. They stood on the slope of a hill in the darkness, only a sliver of moon and wash of stars overhead to light their surroundings.
Sera let out a long breath. “This looks right,” she whispered.
Dak heard the soft murmur of voices from somewhere up the hill and felt Vígi tense under his fingers. She raised her head, sniffing at the air. Curious, Dak sniffed, too. He smelled woodsmoke and copper, dirt and sweat.
Before he could get a better grip on the dog, she bolted. Dak didn’t think twice before chasing after her. As he ran he heard Sera and Riq following, crashing through the underbrush.
The dog slowed at the edge of a clearing, her steps silent in the night, and Dak did his best to quiet his own steps. But Sera and Riq weren’t as stealthy as they tried to catch up, and it was no surprise when a cluster of burly Viking warriors intercepted them and began asking questions.
Instinctively, Dak felt his fingers tighten around his own axe to defend himself and his friends — then he realized that the Vikings didn’t seem to be paying him any attention. Only belatedly did he remember he was still dressed as a berserkr from the battle in Paris; he was actual
ly blending in.
Vígi paused and whined, and for a moment Dak felt torn between his friends and the dog. His mind was made up when Vígi pressed her nose against the back of Dak’s knee, urging him forward. “They’re with me,” he called over his shoulder as he continued running.
The center of the camp was subdued — nothing like Dak would have expected after such a huge victory as the Battle of Chartres had been. A knot of unease began to tighten in his stomach.
A giant of a Viking sat in front of the remains of a fire, the glowing embers casting shadows on his face. His shoulders were slumped, his empty hands hanging limp and his hair graying to white. Dak knew it must be Rollo — who else could be so massive? — but this man bore little resemblance to the laughing, high-spirited warrior Dak knew.
Whatever the three of them had done to change history hadn’t been kind to Rollo, Dak realized.
He slowed his approach, but Vígi showed no such hesitation. She raced across the clearing, tongue lolling from her mouth, and then leapt through the air, landing fully against the Viking’s chest and pushing him from his stool.
The man fell to the ground with a crash, the dog crouched over him. She tilted her head back and let loose with a happy howl before lapping at his face.
“Ugh, ick!” he grumbled, and Dak smiled at the reversal.
The giant pushed to his elbows, no easy feat with a one-hundred-fifty-plus pound dog perched on one’s chest. “Vígi?” he whispered, his voice almost cracking. Dak wasn’t sure, but he thought the warrior’s eyes might have been glistening.
The beast’s tail thumped heartily, her face breaking into a grin that bared every single gleaming tooth. She licked at the Viking again. “Only one dog I know with breath as vile as that,” he muttered, scratching at the dog’s ears. “But how?”
His gaze snapped up, landing on Dak. Rollo’s face lit up. “My time-traveling friend!” he said, rising to his feet. He pulled Dak into a hug that felt like it might have cracked several ribs.
“Come! Join me at the fire and tell me of your travels,” Rollo boomed. He motioned over Dak’s head, and Dak turned to find Sera and Riq being escorted into camp. They seemed to visibly relax when they saw Vígi sitting happily by Rollo’s side.