#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 97: 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 Odd #TimeTravelAuthors 05/3 Old buildings in your story

Chaos swirled all around us, making it just possible that we might escape detection. However, that slim chance plunged to zero, thanks to my clothes. If I had worn a neon sign, I couldn’t have been more obvious.

I manifested the religious robes of our guide. They were distinctive, but the hood hid my fair complexion and blonde hair. There was a risk that my act of “sorcery” would backfire, but capture by the Templars would have had an unfortunate ending. Ms. Dubois’ fate was an example of how ruthless the Lapan Cabal was.

The youth had backed us against a wall, and the two guards partially screened us from view. While the odds had improved, I still didn’t like them. Sorcery was my answer to correct that. It wouldn’t cause any harm since I had already broken that taboo.

“Find out what’s on the other side of this wall,” I said in English so Emily would understand. Then, turning to our guide, I resumed in French. “Where can we find you?”

“Tonight at St. George’s Shrine,” he answered. “God be with you.”

I didn’t have time to consider how odd his lack of surprise was. Instead, I focused on the soldiers pushing through the crowd. Their white surcoats with red Maltese crosses marked them as Knights of the Temple of Solomon. Despite their holy orders, they lay about themselves freely with swords and maces, unconcerned by the harm they caused.

A few moments later, Emily returned, saying, “It’s a courtyard surrounded by old buildings. I didn’t see anyone, so we should be safe there.”

Closing my eyes, I willed myself into insubstantiality. I had become quicker at it, but it was still tiring. Without waiting, I thrust my arms into the wall behind us, ignoring the unpleasant muddy sensation, and pushed my way through it.

On the far side, I collapsed onto the courtyard’s flagstones, panting. A glance revealed arches on the lower floor. Vines climbed these on trellises, draping red and white flowers along the second floor's veranda railing. A nearby lemon tree lightly perfumed the air.

I was safe for the moment.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 96: 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

**#Wss366 Shining #TimeTravelAuthors 04/29. Author's choice/promo

“Come,” said the hooded figure, beckoning toward the rear of the tavern. “They love not sorcerers here. Nor foreigners, as your clothes mark you.”

I followed him closely across the crowded floor, flanked by two guards. The murmur of complaint that continued wasn’t reassuring, but the crowd parted for our guide as if he were Moses at the Red Sea. As we reached an exit, he turned and addressed the room. While I didn’t understand the words, they silenced the complaints.

Beyond the door, we emerged into a dusty alley stinking of refuse or worse. Overhead, the sun blazed down, #shining hot enough to fry one’s brains. I wished I could change my clothes to the coarse linen tunics worn by my guards, but it seemed unwise to resort to “sorcery.” It was a balance between looking outlandish or confirming I was a sorceress. I made the obvious choice not to make things worse.

“We should hurry,” our host said in French. “The Franks will know of your arrival soon. They govern with Satan’s iron fist.”

I translated for Emily, who nodded and kept pace with us.

We threaded our way through twisted alleys, drawing suspicious stares and the occasional sign against the evil eye. The people we passed were of a swarthy cast, wearing loose robes, tunics, and turbans. They spoke a multitude of languages, none of which I understood.

There was a sense of tension and distrust beyond what our mere presence could explain. There were furtive glances up and down the street and hushed voices instead of gossip.

“Do you think we're in Nicosia?” Emily asked me.

“Are we in Nicosia?” I, in turn, asked our guide.

“Nicosia, 907 Anno Martyrum or 1191 by your calendar.”

“Yes,” I said to Emily. “And I think he knows we're time-travelers. Why else would he tell me the year?”

Emily nodded again, while my guards gave me an evil glare. The youth soon explained, “It is best not to speak the language of the invaders. Al-Malik Rīchārd is not well-loved.”

As he finished speaking, shouts and the sound of running feet broke the uneasy murmur of the street. Soon after, men ran past us in disorganized ones, twos, and threes. Cries of “Hoi Naítai,” “Hoi Phrángoi,” “Al-Faranj,” and “Fursān al-Haykal” filled the air.

My guards drew their daggers, and we turned to retreat, only to be met by the crowd surging back, milling about like trapped sheep.

“Alas!” our guide cried. "The Franks! We've been betrayed!"

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 95: 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 Murmuration #TimeTravelAuthors 04/27. Message/moral of your story.

“Mágissa,” a male voice said next to my ear, and a breath heavy with garlic, wine, and rotting teeth washed over my face.

Time seemed to stop. Unable to turn my head, my eyes darted, looking for Emily. If I time-tripped without her, we might never meet again.

“Perímene,” a youthful voice commanded, and the knife relaxed a trifle. Then they fired off three sentences in rapid succession.

“Pois eisai?”

“Man anta?”

“Qui êtes-vous?”

The last was French for “Who are you?” and I replied in the same language, “We’re allies.”

I paused for a moment, considering my next sentence, lest I make a mistake.

Emily had taken my hand again, so I prepared to time-trip if I said the wrong thing.

We had asked to meet a friend, so I risked saying, “We are enemies of the Illuminati and the Templars.”

“You know of the Illuminated Ones and the demon lapan?” the youth replied.

The blade dug deeper, nicking into my throat.

“Some, but not much,” I replied.

“And you, spirit? Are you their enemy too? Speak truth, for I will know if you lie.”

Ignoring the trickle of blood where the knife had sliced me, I slowly turned my head to face the speaker. At the head of the table, beyond my captor, sat a slender figure in a long black robe. A black hood adorned with multiple crosses obscured their countenance.

“She doesn’t speak French,” I said. “So she can’t answer. But she is an ally too.”

“Why are you the Illuminated Ones enemy?” The questioner returned to me.

“Because they tried to kill me and because they work for tyrants. All their actions reek of evil. If you do not resist evil, then you are no better.”

“Afíste tous na fýgoun,” the youth said. The knife moved away from my throat as a #murmuration of protest arose around us.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri