D-Day by Bob Mayer

Author:Bob Mayer [Mayer, Bob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Time Travel, Althernate History, Time Patrol, Thriller, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781621252832
Google: VyomvgEACAAJ
Amazon: 1621252779
Goodreads: 29245839
Publisher: WHO DARES WINS
Published: 2016-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sjaelland Island, Denmark, 6 June 452 A.D.

Every nail, claw-scale, and spur, every spike

and welt on the hand of that heathen brute

was like barbed steel. Everybody said

there was no honed iron hard enough

to pierce him through, no time-proofed blade

that could cut his brutal blood-caked claw

Roland was drenched in blood. He recognized the copper smell, and he could feel it all over his skin, soaking into his leather garments. There was no texture quite like it. He sat next to Jager, not sure of his next move. Jager was also saturated with Grendel’s blood.

“This is a fine blade.”

Roland looked to his left. Beowulf was holding the Naga staff in one hand. In the other, he had Grendel’s hand. The rest of the arm stretched to the floor, where the severed shoulder lay.

There was a shivering howl in the far distance, and Roland looked toward the sound, which echoed through the front entrance of Heorot.

“He ran,” Beowulf said. “It is a shame I could not finish him here.”

“He won’t last the wound,” Jager said. “There is too much blood.”

“This is true,” Beowulf said. “Still, I wanted to present the queen with the body.”

“You have a worthy trophy,” Jager added, indicating the arm.

Beowulf smiled. “True, also.”

Roland stood and held his hand out. Beowulf reluctantly passed the Naga staff to him. There were voices outside the hall, human voices, but they weren’t coming any closer.

Beowulf shook Grendel’s massive arm. “I must take this to the king and queen.”

He staggered toward the door, pulling his prize.

Roland watched him. Daylight was beginning to show outside. Beowulf was framed in the entrance as he posed there and once more held the trophy over his head.

A roar from a crowd greeted him, the locals having spent the night uncertain who or what would be coming out of Heorot this morning.

Roland glanced at Jager. “That was smart.”

Jager shrugged. “I took the opportunity.”

“That’s how the arm came off,” Roland said. “You weakened it, yet he acts as if he tore it off by himself.”

Jager shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“He said you and I were comrades,” Roland said.

“He did say that,” Jager allowed. “But you are new to me, and I am new to you.” He looked about. “You’re not the man who fell asleep after the feasting and drinking.”

So much for wasn’t there, and then was there, but always sort of been there.

Roland made a mental leap that would have stunned Mac and impressed Moms. It was like the painting fading out. Only those who’d been through Gates saw it. Regular people, everyone else around, couldn’t.

“Who are you?” Roland asked, his hand tightening around the staff of the Naga.

“Jager.”

Several people had joined Beowulf at the entrance to the hall, the voices loud and boisterous.

“Have you faced many monsters like Grendel?” Roland asked.

“You said you killed monsters,” Jager said by way of not answering.

“True. But I’ve never seen anything like that. Are we sure it’s dead? It opened those doors with one arm.”

Jager was staring at the figures in the entrance. “It was pouring blood.

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