(Historical)

The midday sun flashed off his blade as it swung viciously through the air. I could see my own shocked reflection as it came alarmingly close to my face.

"TRAITOR!" He screamed.

My eyes grew wide and I bit back a yelp as I rolled to the side to avoid getting chopped in half. I rolled one more time for good measure then scrambled up on my feet, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it blindly behind me, hoping it hit him. My unsaid question was answered when I heard the angered human roar behind me. I ran as far and as fast as I could away from his angry screaming and his very sharp looking sword. My heart dropped when I heard him call for me to be followed.

Not ten minutes into the Timeline and this guy already wanted to kill me. I knew the Medieval times wasn't all fairs, court jesters, and knights in shining armor, but I didn't think people went around killing strangers who walk out of the woods. I'm just thankful I'm not a woman, history has a way of showing they favor men over the fairer sex. But at the moment I don't favor David, he was supposed to drop me off at the river, not in the middle of people infested woods.

The sound of trickling water greeted me as I busted out the other side of the woods, my followers nowhere to be seen or heard. I breathed hard as I bent down with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. But the whinny of a horse made me freeze. Slowly I looked up, my eyes wide. There before me was a whole army of French soldiers packing up camp.

Just at the water's edge of the small river was a woman, her slight frame and round eyes making her seem no more than fifteen. But then I got a good look at her clothes. She was armored along with the rest of them; chain mail, breastplate, sword, leather; the works. They looked weary as if they had been traveling for a while. I could even see a few were wounded. The woman by the river never looked away but instead, her gaze hardened as her chin rose.

"Qui es-tu? Qu'est-ce que tu veux?"

French? What was a French army doing in 525 England? Perhaps there was more to King Arthur's stories and battles than was lead on. I shook my head, not ready to take on more challenges than I already had.

I'm was a historian. Of sorts. I didn't deal with the actual battles King Arthur waged while in his leadership but I have been there while he planned them. Keeping a good distance at a perfect vantage point I just went to observe, take note, and come home to tell the world how it all really happened. Was I a time traveler? No, I didn't like saying I was because that then implied I change time, something I abhor and strive to refrain from doing. The fact I ran into two groups of men in one visit bothered me. A lot. But something else wasn't right.

Why would an English soldier call me a traitor when I am clearly wearing their uniform? And speaking English! I opened my mouth to greet him and he didn't give me time to explain why I was here before he went swinging. Had he known that the King himself knows me, he would have stayed his sword and escorted me to Arthur right away. I'm sure we all would have laughed about it later.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the same French questions.

"Qui es-tu? Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" Her voice was strong, not a hint of fear or hesitation. Not surprising considering I didn't see any other woman around leading her to be the only woman in the phalanx.

Not knowing a lick of French I raised my hands but stood my ground.

"I mean you no harm."

The group cried out, weapons raised and fire in their eyes. The woman scowled, crossed the little river, pulled her sword on me, and pointed it at my chest.

"English then?"

Her heavily French accented English was surprisingly good. I nodded, weary of the sharp point nearing my heart. "Yes. I'm lost." I winced at how pathetic I sounded. I didn't think to bring my translator because I was only needing to meet with Arthur for dinner then leave. Well, we were going to go over battle strategies and his thoughts on Guinevere, but I guess that was going to have to wait.

The woman cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. "Where you go? Where you from?"

I lowered my hands, gently taking her blade and pointing it away from my body, breathing easier. "King Arthur. I am a member of his council."

She allowed me to push away her blade but her stance did not change. Instead, her face did, from scrutiny to confusion.

"King Arter?" She glanced back at her men who had started to lower their own weapons like her. She must be their leader, how fascinating. She turned back to me, shaking her head. "I know of no King Arter."

Now it was my turn to be confused. I thought I was just outside his castle. "You are nearly upon his castle."

Her eyes widened and she stepped back. "Mes scouts ont menti? Si proche de l'anglais..."

Having no idea what she said, but hearing the slight fear, I looked around expecting to see the trees I have grown to know like the back of my hand. But instead, I was surrounded by a forest I have never seen before, filling me with dread. I got attacked by an English mad man, stumbled upon French forces, and now found myself in a part of the forest I have never been in. This day just keeps getting better and better.

The woman looked to me, sweeping my body with her eyes. I grew warm, not really used to girls 'checking me out' though I have come to the conclusion that this was no girl, but a woman with profound respect from her men now standing at ease behind her.

She stepped forward and touched my tunic. "What do you wear? Old beggar?

I shook my head and looked down at my clothes. "I am a councilman for King Arthur. These are the finest in the kingdom."

The woman smirked, eyeing me with near pity. "Find yourself a better King. Your King gives you rags."

Looking up at her men and their clothes I nearly blanched. Sure enough, they looked better than mine. And they were merely soldiers! I cleared my throat, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Forgive me. I am not sure what has happened. I am lost, slightly afraid, and getting hungry. I just need to find a place to return back home." I gave her a side glance. "Seeing as how you have no idea what I am saying exactly, I'd like to come with you."

Her eyes locked with mine, her mind clearly turning as she tried to make sense of what I had said. She sheathed her sword and folded her own arms, mimicking my stance. "You come with us?"

"Please, if you don't mind."

"Why?"

I shrugged, dropping my arms and gesturing to the woods around us. "I don't know where I am. I just need help getting out into the open. Then I will leave you."

My stomach suddenly growled making the woman snicker.

"Good. You may have food, but nothing more. Come. We leave now."

I followed her across the small river to her men who were finishing their clean up. She went to go speak to a man with an impressive mustache and after a few hand gestures toward me I was soon handed a bowl of soup.

"Eat quick. Stay here. I will return."

I nodded, spooning warm but oddly delicious soup into my mouth. I watched her go, stopping a few men to speak with them. Before she completely disappeared, she turned to the group, her voice strong and loud.

"Ne te dérange pas. Il vient avec nous. À Compiègne!"

They all raised their fists and yelled out in agreeing excitement, their collective voices giving me goose bumps. The woman nodded with a satisfied smile then left behind a wall of thick trees. As soon as she was out of sight, the men bustled about picking up the remainder of the camp. Alone and not drawing any attention to myself, I moved off to the side a bit to look up and down the river. I strained my neck trying to find some semblance of the forest I had been visiting for over three months.

I kicked myself for not noticing sooner. My dated clothes should have been a dead give away. If only I had taken Charles' advice and studied further up the timeline of English garb. But what I did know was that I was in the wrong forest, probably the wrong country. I might even be in the wrong time. But I was, at least, on Earth. That I knew of.

I glanced around at the working men. They looked like humans. One of them walked by me carrying a large roll of tarp, his pits clearly visible. I nearly gagged. They smelled like humans too. Man do I needed to get back to modern hygiene.

I shook my head and finished my soup, handing it back to the man from before. He looked between me and the empty bowl with expectant eyes.

I nodded. "Ah, yes. It was good. Good." I lifted my hand, giving him a thumbs up.

He looked puzzled, mimicking my hand gesture then smiled, wiggling his mustache. "Yes yes. Good. Good." Then he left, wiping down the bowl with a nasty looking leaf then added it to the rest of his stuff. I shuttered, wishing I hadn't watched that.

With a full belly and feeling more comfortable with my unfamiliar surroundings, I got busy planning. First on my list was to whip Charles with a wooden spoon. He sent me here and was clearly in no hurry to get me back considering I haven't felt the transporter grow warm in my pocket. I didn't have to be in a field for him to at least contact me that way.

Secondly, I needed to make sure I could even leave this place. Wherever this place was. I won't be able to place my finger on it until I see the stars. I was more of the thinker, the mental side of the man, the one that most would call a nerd in school. So being picked out of our group to be the one to talk to our studied historic iconics didn't come as a surprise to me. But I was usually told where and when I was going and to whom I was talking to.

That reminded me; I had no idea what that woman's name was. She didn't look familiar either. Long black hair, beautiful, strong, and an obvious leader. Sort of made me wish I knew my French history a bit better. But considering what other twenty-four-year-olds were doing at this moment, I wasn't beating myself up too much. I was already friends with King Arthur, I think learning about France and its people can wait a little while longer.

I was about to head back to the spot the leading lady told me not to move from when I heard the sound of a twig snapping behind me, just across the river. Startled I turned around, looking up and down the river bank. But I saw nothing.

Suddenly there was a cry from one of the men. I turned and saw the cook fall to the ground, an arrow lodged in his chest. In the blink of an eye, our side of the river was soon riddled with arrows, all the closer men now dead or severely wounded. A familiar battle cry startled me out of my frozen fear as a blade flashed across the river.

"There! The red head English imposter with his French allies! Strike them all down!"

How nice, just because I had red hair I was suddenly French. Go figure. Thankfully the French were quick to react as the English raced across the river in a less uniformed manner as their tight-knit opponents. I watched in awe as the two forces collided. But I didn't stay to see how it was going to end as I noticed another larger force coming around the side in all their screaming glory.

I turned tail and ran, not at all ready to test out my three-month sword training quite yet. But I didn't get far, running into a body. I grabbed their shoulders to keep them from running into the fight.

"You don't want to go that way."

I glanced down seeing it was the woman. She looked angry and ready to fight but she had shed her armor, for whatever reason. She opened her mouth just as I was about to let her go and fight with the fire in her eyes but there was a third English group coming to join the party.

Thinking quickly, and without her consent, I picked her up and rushed her behind the same tree coverage she had disappeared behind just moments before. It took a lot more work than I thought it would taking a woman to safety. Perhaps it was her arms and legs beating me with every step I took.

Quietly I nestled us against the trees, keeping us out of sight from the other two waves of English soldiers clashed bodies and swords with the remaining Frenchmen. I held her in front of me so she wouldn't run out into the bloodbath. The mixture of English and French cries of pain and calls to arms made my skin shiver with goosebumps. But the woman didn't stop pulling at my arms around her middle.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais? Laisse moi partir! Laisse-moi!" The woman was surprisingly strong as she struggled against my hold.

"Shhh! You are going to get yourself killed," I whispered sharply in her ear by my mouth as I pressed her back to my chest, "Englishman are attacking."

She stilled, rolling her eyes. "Je le sais. Je ne suis pas idiot" Her hands that were once ripping at my hands now grasping my arms tightly as she turned, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. "Your King?" Her voice was quiet but venomous, the sounds of her men fighting, collapsing, and crying out in the distance.

I shook my head, keeping my voice down. "No. Not my king."

"Hérétiques," she spat as she tried to fight against me again but the sound of more voices gave her pause.

English generals. Anglo-Burgundians.

Peeking through the trees, I watched as those of the French who had serviced were now being carried off as prisoners of war. My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of all of this. I was definitely not in Arthur's time.

But where was I?

The woman relaxed in my arms as she took looked where I was. She let out whimpers of despair as she watched her men beaten and bruised get dragged away. Not one of them called out for her. Not one of them divulged her presence. They stayed loyal to her. I looked over at her and watched as she tried to keep a strong face, her eyes burning with seething hatred.

But something was different about her. Other than being stripped of her armor and her composer falling in the midst of her men falling she suddenly seemed familiar. But I couldn't quite place it. She turned to me, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she held my eyes with a hard gaze.

"They will pay."

I shook my head. "We can do nothing. We are outnumbered. There are too many of them."

"I am not afraid. I was born to do this." Her short hair shook as her anger rippled through her.

Wait. Short hair.

I looked over and spied a pile of black hair alongside a crude pair of scissors. Her words rang in my ears as I slowly turned back to her. Blood drained from my face as realization dawned on me. My eyes widened. I scooted away from her enough to see her fully. She gave me an odd look.

"What is wrong?"

My hands shook as I raked them through my hair. "You-you are no regular French woman."

"Oui, je suis une Française."

I shook my head, closing my eyes hard. "Yes, I know you are a French woman."I understood her that much. I opened my eyes and looked her up and down. "But you are an important woman."

She cocked her head to the side. I closed my eyes as I voiced my fears.

"This is 1430. We are in Rouen, Normandy, France."

She nodded. "Oui."

"And you-you are Joan of Arc."

"Oui." She looked like I had just told her the sky was blue.

But my insides felt like exploding. I scooted closer, the roar of my blood rushing in my ears as I reached out to her. She flinched slightly as I gently stroked her cheek with my still shaking hands. I let out a breath and sat back, running my hands through my hair again as I continued to stare at the eighteen-year-old French war hero and saint, her wide eyes never leaving mine.

"I changed history." I ran my hands down my face, letting out a guttural groan. "I just saved Joan of Arc. I just saved Joan of Arc from getting burnt at the stake."

I really was a time traveler.