The Castle Mount Book One of The Adventures of a Time Whore
Chapter 4

Absolutely beautiful area in the 13th century. The town itself had a whopping 800 people living in it, a veritable metropolis for that area at that time. Apparently it was built up because of the proximity to a fort which came in handy when the Norse invaded every so often.

It had a pretty impressive history. One of the first hospitals was built there. Comforting. And it was ruled by plenty of female monarchs from its inception in around 600 BC on. Progressive little buggers. Then again, the Celts always were.

It’s where St. Patrick set up shop, too, if you believe in that sort of stuff and if you believe in ’s version of history. Not sure if the green beer thing started there or not.

My Non-Linear had apparently transported back to 1265 or thereabouts. At least, that’s when the histories diverge. There was a castle there, called Tóin re Gaoith, built by King Duer. You may know this, but kings then weren’t like kings in later centuries. If you had some land and put something resembling a castle on it and got some guys together who would fight for you, you could be a king. Ok, I’m probably simplifying. I’m sure there was a royal blessing or something involved, but overall, kingdoms were pretty darn small.

So, our Non-Lin apparently gathered up enough men of his own, stormed the castle and took over. The big town, , was far enough away and politically ambivalent enough that they didn’t do anything about it, but it screwed up their future quite bit. Entire families ceased to exist and like Parks mentioned earlier, there were going to be some major players in those families; people who ended up brokering a peace treaty in the long running civil war between the Republic and . In the real timeline, everyone lived happy ever after eventually, but because of this jerk, thousands died in an ongoing conflict that lasted nearly a century longer than it should have. This cretin was definitely not getting any D7. Oh, did I say that out loud?

There weren’t many portraits back then, but there were a couple of painfully generic likenesses of the King Duer’s family. Figuring out who was who would be tricky.

And if the Non-Lin had any type of chip-sensing device, it was going to be damn near impossible for me to get near him without him knowing a Chaser was in town. Your ordinary citizen shouldn’t have a device like that, but then again, your ordinary citizen shouldn’t be able to slip into a government installed TALIS box undetected and hotwire the thing to take an unidentified person back to the past, leaving no record. Which means non-lin criminals are usually very determined and well connected people.

I’d been to before a few times and I knew Gaelic, but this was quite a bit earlier than I’d ever been so the dialect was going to be a challenge. The N.C.I. language specialist, Donna, spent a few days with me, teaching me pronunciations, phrasing, helping me with whatever dialect we did know about.

The real fun came when I had to beef up on some hand to hand combat techniques. Middle Ages, the time of crossbows, broad swords, and jousting. And I couldn’t safely use any of those. We have to be really, really careful out in the field. Yeah, this guy was just a foot soldier in the current day, but three generations from now, his son brokers peace between warring tribes that saves thousands of lives. Ripples in a pond. The first rule is not to kill anyone.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m an excellent marksman; guns, knives, swords, I’ve been trained in all of it. But even if you’re really careful and sure not to inflict a mortal wound, there was always the chance the victim would develop an infection, sustain some handicap from the injury that effects their future, etc. etc.

One slip up, one stray blow and you could kill someone and affect the entire timeline. Then they had to investigate to see if you’d screwed up anything by making the kill. If you did, they needed to send a cleanup crew to try to stop you before you kill them. Doesn’t look good on the record. I’ve been pretty good about avoiding it, (the minor slip up with Gretchen notwithstanding) but then again, I’ve been trained in some pretty cool types of martial arts.

Lots of Jujitsu and wrestling techniques of course, excellent for hand to hand. Anything that helps me disable, without killing, an opponent. One of the most useful I’ve learned is K.F.M. The Keysi Fighting Method is quite apropos for the needs of anyone who finds themselves fighting in a wide range of combat situations.

Not everyone bothers learning it, but I think it’s terribly frois. It was developed to be very adaptable to any situation, whether you’re in close quarters or have all the room in the world to thrash about. It’s useful whether your opponent has weapons or not. It’s also vicious and fast, usually a lot faster than any opponent has been taught, at least any of the ones I’ve come up against.

My teacher at the N.C.I. for Keysi is Jorge. Fine looking man, that Jorge. He was tall and incredibly well built. He’s not a Delta, but he can beat any one of us, hands down. He’s just that good. Dark skin, big dark eyes, long dark wavy hair that he often tied back in a pony tail. He always keeps his shirt on when sparring, but I’ve seen him with it off and the man is solidly constructed. I’m admiring on a purely professional level, of course.

When I came in to the gym for some practice rounds, he was finishing up with another Chaser, Corlin. Corlin was a Delta like me, though a couple of years younger. I think there were five in his litter, but he’s the only one of them in N.C.I. He seems nice enough, if a bit green.

Jorge winked at me when he noticed me walking in. Be still my heart. Then he turned back to his student. I watched Jorge teach the boy a lesson. It was kind of nice watching someone else get the crap beat out of them for a change.

They both took the stance, forearms protecting the head, slightly crouched to protect the internal organs, light on their feet, circling each other. But Jorge’s eyes…that was the difference. He was watching for his cue to move in. Corlin was watching for the fight to come to him. Which makes sense if you just want to defend yourself. But Jorge likes to win.

Corlin moved in for a feint, Jorge took the opening. He went in under Corlin’s arms and slammed him hard in the stomach. Corlin wasn’t nearly fast enough, he brought his elbow down on Jorge’s back, but with very little room, it didn’t pack much of a wallop. Jorge followed the forearm to the stomach with an elbow to the chin, all moves taking place within inches. The smack to the jaw forced Corlin up and Jorge had won. A sweep to the legs and a push to the head, Corlin was down and Jorge was standing over him, ready to deal a deathblow.

“Do I have to tell you where you went wrong?” Jorge asked, not even a little out of breath.

“When I got in the ring?” Had to give it to Corlin, Jorge popped him hard and he was still joking. My kind of guy.

Jorge helped him up and they bowed to each other graciously.

Corlin headed over in my direction, done with his humiliation, sorry, session for the day.

“I hear they found you another non-ident.” Corlin wiped his face down and took a drink of water from his bottle.

“Yeah, lucky me”. I took off my sweatshirt and got ready to get in the ring.

“You love it. You live for the hard ones”. Corlin smiled as he passed.

“In so many ways”. I answered.

He tripped getting out of ropes. And laughed. Hey, I work hard to keep up my reputation as a slut.

“About time”. Jorge was standing, ready for me. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right? One session is all you need? Getting a little cocky aren’t you?”

“You tell me” I walked up to him casually, but as soon as I was within striking distance, I roundhouse kicked his left leg. All in one instant, he grinned, blocked and twirled, and sent his arm flying at my head. I ducked and swerved, which got me in a position to punch his exposed side, go down on one knee and sweep his legs. He fell, but rolled fast as lightening away from me and quickly regained his feet. We were both in fighting position.

“Not bad, Miles. Not good, but not bad.” I noticed he was panting just a teeny bit.

“Not good, my ass. You never saw me coming.”

“You play dirty. That’s what I’ve always liked about you”.

Jorge moved against me, same move I’d just seen him put on Corlin, forearm to the stomach, but I was ready for it. I tightened my midsection and got ready for the blow. Then, instead of just one defensive elbow from above, I raised both hands over my head, brought them down together on his neck. Yeah, his forearm knocked the wind out of me, but there’s almost always more wind to be had. And he didn’t expect quite that big of a blow to the back of the head. It forced him into a deeper crouch, and instead of sweeping my legs out, he was forced to rebalance himself.

Which let me ram my knee up into his chin, then give him the double fist to the chest. He straightened with an oomph, I swept his legs again, and fell with him so he landed on his back and I landed kneeling over him. My forearm to his windpipe.

“The dirtier the better.”

“I hope Dillon appreciates you” he gasped. “Uncle”.

I rose and helped him up. “Now that I’ve proven my point…wanna help me get ready?”

“Whatcha facing?”

“Medieval armor and big, big swords.”

“Ah, yes. Come with me, little girl. I’ve got a new toy for you.”

Jorge walked over to a huge wall filled with weapons from the various centuries of warfare. Ain’t mankind sweethearts? From above a huge rack of swords from various eras, he picked up a slightly curved metal shield approximately a foot square, with some decorative carvings on it. On first glance, it easily could have passed for a small shield from medieval times. In reality, it was made of specially formulated high carbon steel that was unflinchingly hard, but able to bend just enough to take blows of considerable force without fracturing. Lighter and tougher than any metal available in that era, and highly maneuverable. Very nice.

The shield had a loop on one side for me to put my arm through. The hole was big enough for a guy’s arm and, while I’m not exactly small boned, it slid a little too far up my arm for me to wear it effectively.

“We’ll fix that” Jorge confirmed and pulled out a towel. He took the shield back off me, wrapped the towel around my forearm and shoved the shield back on. Hard. Maybe he was a little pissed about the earlier takedown?

“Ow.”

“Big baby”.

Them’s fighting words.

“Oh, let’s go”.

Jorge handed me a broadsword and took one for himself, as well as a larger, more traditional shield, which was more like what I’d be working against. We moved back over to the ring and assumed our positions.

It was on.

Now, I’ve fought with a sword before, but like I said, it’s important that I don’t kill anyone or even seriously injure them. And, likewise, I try really, really hard not to get injured or dead myself.

But when your opponent doesn’t share your concerns, you’ve got to be fast, prepared, and sometimes sneaky. That’s why Jorge was the best teacher. He’s delightfully sneaky. Where do you think I learned to fight dirty from?

Not surprisingly, when you’re practicing with swords you’ve got be a little careful. We practice with swords that have been dulled down considerably, of course, but they still hurt like hell when you get hit or slashed with one. They don’t cut, but they leave a hell of a bruise.

Therefore, both Jorge and I made sure that we were ready for the games to begin. Since most of the time I wouldn’t be starting the fights (What? I wouldn’t!) he took the offensive. I used the mini-shield to the best of my ability, but he managed to land a couple of blows. Nothing deadly, but I felt slow. And that’s not a good feeling.

The second round, I managed to hold him off from “killing” me, but only by “wounding” him. And that wasn’t very good either.

“All right, what am I doing wrong?” I rested on the sword for a moment. “I keep leaving openings.

“You’re not used to the mini-shield. You’re stopping me from hitting you but you’re waiting till I’m in your personal space. Get more aggressive with it. When you see me going for the blow, stop me with the shield and use the blade to get me to surrender.”

“Huh” Ok. Let’s try that.

What do you know, it worked. Almost like the guy knew what he was talking about.

Again, he came at me with a big overhead swing. But this time, I didn’t just bring the shield up to guard my head; I also pushed it forward and met the blow before it even started downward. Then, because the shield was so small, it allowed me to bring my blade up to his neck, something a full size shield wouldn’t let you do. I could have run him through, but didn’t have to (obviously). It made him stop the aggression just for a moment and that was enough time for me to use a quick kick to the knee to bring him down. At that point, you’ve got the guy on his knees, your sword to his throat. Most give up at that point. If they don’t, you’re in a corner and you have to do what you have to do and hope he wasn’t the ancestor of anyone important.

Nice business I’m in, huh?

Jorge and I went a few more rounds, but once I was used to the new shield, I was in pretty good shape.

Jorge took the shield back and quickly measured my forearm so they could adjust the armhole. He also quickly measured me to make sure they had a sword that would be perfect for my height and weight. Lastly, he took a few measurements for a set of ultralight chainmail that could be tailored that night. It would fit under the clothes I was going to wear as that little added bit of protection a girl needs in the 13th century.

Speaking of that, the next stop was costumes. You have to blend in and not just with clothes. They had to resolve my hair to a darker color than its normal blonde, but they left it curly and shoulder length. My eyes were grey and that was fine and my skin was fair, which fit in with the climate. I looked reasonably non-descript, and that’s a very good thing.

Then came the clothing. Made of extremely authentic materials from the era and scented with extremely authentic stench. Not a whole lot of bathing going on back then among the poor folk so they doused it with a little fake body odor. I felt like a fairy princess.

Next I stopped in Supply to place an order for all the things I’d need that I was allowed to take with me.

First was money. Gotta have that. Then some food that would be made to look like traditional bread and dried meat of the day, but was really highly processed protein and vitamin enriched material meant to be easy on the digestion, but dense enough that it filled you up fast. You could carry a couple of weeks of this stuff without worrying about spoilage. I also had water sanitizing powder, essential if you don’t want to be spending too much time behind a tree in a time period without toilet paper. I know, a little more information than you needed, right?

I also had a few smaller items, small sticks that were actually reusable matches, a knife for more utilitarian purposes, versus a weapon. A couple of neat little tools of the trade that I’ll tell you about later, and lastly some first aid supplies that were carefully made to look like plain pieces of cloth, except they were soaked in antiseptic and other types of medicine, such as aspirin, penicillin, etc. Also a little diddy that had saved my mission more than once, synthetic skin bandages. Wet, apply, it merges with the skin and keeps you from losing too much blood. Looked like fabric. We’re a clever bunch of people, I tell you.

My last stop was at the med unit. They needed to reset my subdural clock. I would use it to gauge the amount of time I had left in the past before I started melting away. Of course, the excruciating pain of feeling your internal organs start to dissolve acts as a backup warning system.

I was ready to go. One more night of good sleep in my wonderful bed and I’d be off to the Emerald Isle, circa 1265 a.d.

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