Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) Read Free Page B

how to land in the dirt without doing too much damage to whatever parts of him Kwaku had chosen to leave unscath ed. This neg ligible talent had kept Dallan in one piece all these years and more than likely would continue to do so.
    Kwaku fell into a crouch, staff in hand, as Dallan jumped to his feet and assumed the same position. “Now, Boyeee, you try again, yes?” The two men began to circle each other, both with the same thought in mind.
    This was going to be a long morning.
     
    * * *
     
    “Oh, that must have hurt!” John Philip Eaton, Lord Councilor of Sutter’s Province, watched and winced in response to the two huge warriors battling in the center of the training arena. The Azurti and the Scot, each a skilled weapons master, fought one another with a combination of brute strength, cunning, agility and—for Dallan, anyway—barely controlled rage.
    John’s body shook and started with each blow the Scot absorbed, closing his eyes whenever an especially lethal thwac k sounded from the combination of Kwaku’s staff and Dallan’s body. He couldn’t fathom what it would be like to be the one out there with Kwaku and shuddered at the thought of the Time Master, a usual reaction for most.
    His brow furrowed as he cringed. “Time Masters,” he whispered as if it were the name of a difficult child, then reminded himself where his people might be had it not been for the Muirarans and their Time Masters.
    The Lord Councilor’s world had nearly been destroyed once. No, make that twice, John thought. The reclusive race had stepped in when needed and saved John’s own race from near extinction. They helped man to rebuild, rebirth and repopulate the Known Lands by allowing their Time Masters to go b ack into man’s past to fi nd out what went wrong. Reconstruct and correct some of the mistakes made. To this day the Time Masters still labored with humanity’s past, to make sure that certain mistakes were never repeated. They hoped …
    John watched the warriors in the arena solemnly a moment, his own personal bat tle with the Muiraran issues fi nally over. He’d finally accepted them. They were unquestionably and undeniably real.  They weren’t going anywhere.  And he had to admit, w ithout the Time Master’s and Muiraran’s help, man would not be where he was today, at peace with himself. Or at least more so.
    John sighed and continued to watch the two warriors.  If only the Muirarans wer en’t so reclusive, he mused.  Then perhaps more of John’s own race would believe in their existence rather than passing off any contact with them as phony. A trick.  Like the legendary creatures of old .   Yeti s, Sasquatch, Dragons, and the like. How does one prove they exist? A difficult thing when m any humans, he had to admit, had never even seen one. As it was with the Muirarans.
    Enough. He had other business to attend to. Now was the time for Kwaku Awahnee to pass on his Time Mastership to his pre-chosen successor. Dallan MacDonald, the Weapons Master of Genis Lee. John was to make sure the Scot was fully prep ared to accept his new offi ce and all that it entailed. There were, however, still a few slight problems.
    “Really Eaton, don’t get so worried. The Scot can take it. He’s taken it this long.” Lantzaro Mosgofi an, Assistant to the Lord Councilor, spoke with his usual apathy as he approached his superior. He stopped and brushed his disheveled premature-gray hair out of his blue eyes. John, his own blonde hair neatly combed, unconsciously copied the action. Lany smiled at the thought of a job well done.
    “What are you smirking at?” John asked, glancing from h is assistant back to the two fi ghting warriors. “I see nothing funny about the Scot being bullied around by Kwaku.”
    “Sorry. How is MacDonald today, by the way? Have you had a chance to spend any more time with him?”
    John let go a frustrated sigh. “No, and it looks like I may not get the chance. I told Kwaku I needed Dallan this