Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) by Geralyn Beauchamp
Authors: Geralyn Beauchamp
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famous through out the Known Lands.
“I know, Dallan,” John spoke gently. “Tell me about her.”
Dallan began to pace again, the small room not big enough for his frustration. How did John know? How could he possibly have found out? He had told no one! No one! He spun again on John, features full of rage, and Lany moved to stand beside his superior protectively. Dallan growled as he turned aw ay from the two, crossed to a small table against the wall, and stood there slowly sucking air through his nose. He stared intently at the tired piece of furniture and fancied John sp rawled across it like a sacrifi ce on an altar stone, one huge fi st waiting to take his life.
H e closed his eyes tightly to fi ght against the anger, then opened them and again stared at the table, John’s image replaced now by Lany’s. Dallan softly snarled and growled at the vision, then closed his eyes again.
Kwaku now sat on the conceptual altar, grinni ng and wagging one long dark fi nger, about to go into one of his appalling lectures he mercilessly subjected Dallan to.
That wa s all Dallan could take. His fi st exploded through the table which sent its tattered fragments fl ying.
Lany instinctively moved in front of John, who calmly sat, a smile on his face. They both glanced up at the Scot, who now faced them, jaw dancing with anger, eyes oddly seeking.
“How did ye fi nd out about… her?” Dallan softly demanded through clenched teeth.
John shrugged, his smile broadening, and looked Dallan right in the eye. “You, um… talk in your sleep.”
Lany had to turn away to hide his tight-lipped smile and stay out of trouble. Oh, but this was good! Nobody but Eaton would have dared.
“I… what?” Dallan choked out. “Ye c anna be serious.” His balled fi sts relaxed as his mind raced over the past ten years in Genis Lee. No one was ever allowed in his cottage while he slept, and if anyone somehow had managed to get in, he would have surely woken, his warrior’s senses too keen to miss anything. He shook his head and paced. Nay, he thought, no one was eve r with him while he slept. How… ?
Vyn.
Dallan slowly turned to face John. Lany, his forehead against the opposite wall, shook in silent laughter. The sight made Dallan’s rage reignite. His intense green eyes narrowed on the Assistant Councilor as he took a threatening step forward.
John quickly stood and placed himself between his assistant and the seething Scot. “Lany, calm down. Dallan , he had nothing to do with it. Vyn approached me on his own, concerned about you.”
Dallan stopped in mid-stride. “Concerned? About me?” he whispered surprised, his eyes still on Lany who stood erect now, his usual apathy fi rmly back in place. Dallan raised an annoyed eyebrow at him, to which Lany shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face, as if to say that’s Vyn for you. Dallan still wasn’t sure whether to like the man or throttle him, his presence irritating like the heathen’s, yet strangely comforting like John’s.
“Very concerned about you,” John began again. “He was upset after watching you have one of your nightmares.”
Dallan sidestepped once and sank heavily into his chair . He closed his eyes tightly and swallowed hard. So, they knew about the nightmares too…
He leaned back and opened his eyes as a long sigh escaped him. He then looked John in the eye, trapping him again. He might as well get it over with.
The Lord Councilor calmly reclaimed his own chair as Lany positioned himself again in the doorway.
“When I was verra young, I used to play with my grandfather’s hounds back behind the Auld Fox’s summer house at Gleannleac- na-muidha . We stayed there with him every year. One da y I set to teasing the dogs when I suddenly felt someone watching me. The dogs must ha’ felt it too as they started a-barking at s omething. I looked , but coul dna see what might ha’ upset them. Odder yet, they didna take to chasing whatever it was as hounds are
“I know, Dallan,” John spoke gently. “Tell me about her.”
Dallan began to pace again, the small room not big enough for his frustration. How did John know? How could he possibly have found out? He had told no one! No one! He spun again on John, features full of rage, and Lany moved to stand beside his superior protectively. Dallan growled as he turned aw ay from the two, crossed to a small table against the wall, and stood there slowly sucking air through his nose. He stared intently at the tired piece of furniture and fancied John sp rawled across it like a sacrifi ce on an altar stone, one huge fi st waiting to take his life.
H e closed his eyes tightly to fi ght against the anger, then opened them and again stared at the table, John’s image replaced now by Lany’s. Dallan softly snarled and growled at the vision, then closed his eyes again.
Kwaku now sat on the conceptual altar, grinni ng and wagging one long dark fi nger, about to go into one of his appalling lectures he mercilessly subjected Dallan to.
That wa s all Dallan could take. His fi st exploded through the table which sent its tattered fragments fl ying.
Lany instinctively moved in front of John, who calmly sat, a smile on his face. They both glanced up at the Scot, who now faced them, jaw dancing with anger, eyes oddly seeking.
“How did ye fi nd out about… her?” Dallan softly demanded through clenched teeth.
John shrugged, his smile broadening, and looked Dallan right in the eye. “You, um… talk in your sleep.”
Lany had to turn away to hide his tight-lipped smile and stay out of trouble. Oh, but this was good! Nobody but Eaton would have dared.
“I… what?” Dallan choked out. “Ye c anna be serious.” His balled fi sts relaxed as his mind raced over the past ten years in Genis Lee. No one was ever allowed in his cottage while he slept, and if anyone somehow had managed to get in, he would have surely woken, his warrior’s senses too keen to miss anything. He shook his head and paced. Nay, he thought, no one was eve r with him while he slept. How… ?
Vyn.
Dallan slowly turned to face John. Lany, his forehead against the opposite wall, shook in silent laughter. The sight made Dallan’s rage reignite. His intense green eyes narrowed on the Assistant Councilor as he took a threatening step forward.
John quickly stood and placed himself between his assistant and the seething Scot. “Lany, calm down. Dallan , he had nothing to do with it. Vyn approached me on his own, concerned about you.”
Dallan stopped in mid-stride. “Concerned? About me?” he whispered surprised, his eyes still on Lany who stood erect now, his usual apathy fi rmly back in place. Dallan raised an annoyed eyebrow at him, to which Lany shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face, as if to say that’s Vyn for you. Dallan still wasn’t sure whether to like the man or throttle him, his presence irritating like the heathen’s, yet strangely comforting like John’s.
“Very concerned about you,” John began again. “He was upset after watching you have one of your nightmares.”
Dallan sidestepped once and sank heavily into his chair . He closed his eyes tightly and swallowed hard. So, they knew about the nightmares too…
He leaned back and opened his eyes as a long sigh escaped him. He then looked John in the eye, trapping him again. He might as well get it over with.
The Lord Councilor calmly reclaimed his own chair as Lany positioned himself again in the doorway.
“When I was verra young, I used to play with my grandfather’s hounds back behind the Auld Fox’s summer house at Gleannleac- na-muidha . We stayed there with him every year. One da y I set to teasing the dogs when I suddenly felt someone watching me. The dogs must ha’ felt it too as they started a-barking at s omething. I looked , but coul dna see what might ha’ upset them. Odder yet, they didna take to chasing whatever it was as hounds are
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