Uprising: Girl Across Time, #1

By Dai Pryce

'Nothing is further away than one second ago.'

Wales 1294 — a country rising in violent rebellion against the hated English king.
Megan Lynch — a high-school sophomore from Virginia Beach, recently arrived in North Wales to stay with her grandmother. A girl about to get badly out of her depth . . . and time!

Following the death of her Navy SEAL father in Afghanistan, Megan is packed off to stay with her grandmother in North Wales. That means a new school to go along with the new country.
"Go stay with your gran for a while, it'll keep you out of trouble." Megan's mother said — famous last words.
In her mom's defense, she could never have predicted the remarkable events that unfolded in the ruins of Flint Castle that afternoon. She certainly wouldn't have known about the strange Welshman or the pendant he gave Megan. Even then, if it hadn't been for the encounter with a local bully, Megan might still be wandering around the ruins of a thirteenth century castle, instead of a fully functioning one.

Her striking resemblance to the king's daughter is initially her saving grace, but the inability to speak Norman French arouses suspicions, and she knows her luck cannot last. Thankfully, help is at hand in the shape of Hugh, the handsome young knight's squire with a secret of his own.

Their friendship grows as they attempt to stay one step ahead of Hugh's father as he tracks down his rebellious son. It is a journey that takes them across an oppressed medieval Wales in the throes of an uprising. It is a dangerous world of chain mail, dungeons, crossbows, lynch mobs and burning towns.

There are compensations though; unpolluted air, stunning scenery, imposing stone castles in their full splendor, and of course, Hugh.

Will Megan make it back to her everyday world of Snapchat, Instagram, and Same-Day Delivery? Will she even want to?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ddraig Goch
• Release date: May 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201338169

Dai Pryce

Born and bred in North Wales; after graduating from The University of Leeds with a Mining Engineering degree, Dai spent the next seven years living and working (often four km underground) in Southern Africa. This was followed by spells living in California and London. Although calling the beautiful state of Colorado his home, he returns to Wales on a regular basis to visit family and soak up that indefinable magical atmosphere and experience the sense of belonging he feels nowhere else – a Hiraeth if you will. Proper fish and chips and CAMRA pubs serving real ale are the icing on the bara brith.

Book preview

Uprising

Girl Across Time — Book 1

By

Dai Pryce

Copyright © 2022 by David MacCallum-Price

For sound files to help with the pronunciation of Welsh names, plus lots of other useful information, please head over to www.wales2america.com.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from David MacCallum-Price.

All artwork by David MacCallum-Price

www.stripephoto.com

Nothing is as far away as one minute ago. — Jim Bishop

CHAPTER 1 - A New Start

Flint, North Wales — Present-day

Megan eyed the plate piled high with food and prodded the suspicious looking black item with her knife.

Gran; the black stuff, is that . . .

Black pudding, yes.

Megan stifled a groan, wondering why anybody would want to eat something made from pig’s blood.

Just some cereal and a cup of coffee is fine, gran. That’s all I usually have back home in Virginia Beach.

Nonsense love, you need some proper sustenance for the day. We can’t have you starting your first day at school on an empty stomach now, can we? What would your mother say?

She wouldn’t care. She couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

Now you know that’s not true, love. She is just doing what she thinks is for the best, after, you know . . . "

My dad got killed in Afghanistan and I ’went off the rails’, as she likes to put it.

Her gran gently laid a hand on her shoulder. Try and eat something, love.

Megan pierced a sausage and jabbed it into one of the sunny-side-up eggs as the phone shrilled.

Her gran tutted. Who can that be calling so early in the morning? Can you get that for me, please, love?

Sure gran. With a clatter of fork prong against ceramic, Megan dropped the uneaten sausage onto the plate and traipsed into the front room. She couldn’t think of one other person apart from her gran that actually still used a landline. She didn’t even own a cellphone.

Putting the plastic receiver to her right ear, she said, Hello.

Is that you, Megan?

Oh, hey mom.

You sound tired, honey. Did you not sleep well?

Not really, no.

What’s wrong? Not coming down with something, are you?

No, I’m not. I’m guessing it was due to my excitement about going to this new school where I won’t know anyone, and I’m sure they’ll all make fun of my accent.

She sighed. We’ve been through this a dozen times. You’ll be fine. You were popular at your old school here in VB.

Megan grunted, wondering where her mom had got that idea from.

Today should have been my first as a sophomore at Salem High. You know, where my friends are. Instead, here I am, brand-new school in a totally different country.

Friends? You mean Joanne Fredricks, and what’s her name?

Raquel? Megan offered.

Yes, that’s right, Raquel Davis. The friends you’ve been skipping class and drinking with. I’ve heard other stories about Miss Davis as well. What she gets up to with boys. And she's only sixteen, like you.

Really, mom? And I only got drunk that one time. You know, the day after dad’s funeral.

Not that she would admit it out loud, but Megan had to concede her mom had a point about Raquel. She was kinda slutty.

And anyway, we're not super close. We just hang out once in a while.

That's as may be, but what about that joint?

Megan sighed. Oh my God, mom. I’ve told you a thousand times, that wasn’t mine.

So, how did it end up in your jacket pocket, then?

I don’t know. Someone must have put it there. I still can’t believe that’s one of the reasons you’ve abandoned me and shipped me off to Wales.

Don’t be melodramatic, Megan. In any case, I thought you liked it there. You loved all the castles and stuff when the three of us visited that time. And anyway, it won’t be for long, maybe a few months. It’s not been easy for me either, you know, with your father dying.

I know, mom. Look, I have to go, otherwise I’ll be late for school.

Good luck, honey. Oh, and make sure you behave for your gran. Love you.

Love you too, mom, Megan murmured.

She replaced the receiver and wandered back into the kitchen, scooping up her backpack from the floor.

How was your mother, dear?

Megan shrugged. Okay, I guess.

I know she misses you. She’s only doing what she thinks is for the best. Though, I’m sure you’d rather be back in Virginia than stuck with an old fuddy duddy like me.

Megan smiled and hugged her. You know I love you gran. But I have to go, otherwise I’ll be late.

Her gran frowned. You’ve hardly touched your breakfast.

Megan reached over and grabbed a slice of toast. When she turned, she found a blue bank note being pressed into her hand. For your lunch, love.

That’s too much gran, but thanks. See you later.

Megan opened the back door, scooted through the yard, and unlatched the back gate. She set off at a quick walk. Thanks to the call from her mom, she was running late.

♛

Megan shot a half-smile at the blonde girl sitting on the chair outside the office, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

A muffled voice said, Come in.

Megan opened the door and shuffled in.

The lady in the office said I should come and see you, Mister Simpson.

The man behind the desk finished scribbling on a piece of paper and looked up. Ah, you must be Megan.

He glanced at a clock hanging on the wall. The longer of the two hands clicked over to the number five.

And you are late on your first day with us. Not a great start.

No, sorry sir. My mom called this morning to wish me good luck just as I was about to leave. She got to talking, even though its super early back in Virginia, and . . .

He held up a hand.

Yes, yes, I'm sure it's a big adjustment, so we'll let it slip this one time. Just make sure it doesn't happen again.

Megan nodded. Yes, sir.

Ask the girl sitting outside to come in, would you?

Megan opened the door and popped her head around it.

Mister Simpson says you are to come in.

She followed Megan into the office, closing the door behind her.

Alison, this is Megan. She is starting today, and as you share several classes, I'd like you to show her around.

He glanced at the clock again, snatched up a piece of paper from his desk and scribbled something on it.

As you're already late, give this to Mister Evans. He folded up the paper and handed it to Alison.

Now, off you pop. I’ll see you again last period, Megan. You have geography with me.

Megan dutifully trailed after Alison out of the office.

You're not from around here, are you? she asked as they walked along the hallway.

Megan chuckled. How did you guess?

Well, your accent.

You don’t say?

Alison frowned at her.

Sorry, I can be a bit sarcastic at times. So, what's it like?

What's what like?

You know, the school.

She shrugged. Okay, I guess.

Anyone I should be wary of?

How do you mean?

Any mean girls, any boys that fancy themselves as players?

Players?

Adopting a poor imitation of a gangsta rap voice, Megan replied. You know, players.

Alison giggled. Well, Ben Davies fancies himself full stop.

What about girls?

Who fancy themselves?

No, are there any I should be wary of?

She shrugged. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of Tanya Jones. Mind you, neither would most of the boys, except for Jimmy Thomas. He's the hardest in the school. Tanya isn't far behind him, though.

Hardest? Megan queried.

You know, the best fighter.

So, what kind of music do you like, Alison? Megan asked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Most of the stuff in the charts.

Do you have a favorite band?

She shrugged. I like Ariane Grande, Billie Eilish.

Megan made a face.

Who do you like, then? Alison snapped.

My favorite band is the Dollyrots.

Never heard of 'um.

You've never heard of Kelly Ogden?

Nope.

So, you've never heard the song 'Because I'm Awesome'?

She shook her head.

Dude, we have to hang out sometime so you can hear it. It's only like, the best song ever.

She smiled. I'd like that. Oh, by the way, I wouldn't say ‘dude’ in class if I were you.

Megan laughed. Okay.

Alison stopped in front of a door and reached for the handle. Megan grabbed her hand to stop her turning it.

Before we go in, what's the teacher like?

Mister Evans? He's pretty strict, even Tanya doesn't give him any lip. He's a proper Welshie as well.

Welshie?

You know, into all that Welsh independence stuff. He even speaks Welsh.

Megan let go of her hand and she opened the door.

Mister Evans stopped speaking in mid-sentence. Ah, there you are Miss Rogers. I was wondering where you'd got to. And who do we have here?

Alison handed him Mr. Simpson's note. Mr. Evans unfolded and scanned it.

Class, this is Megan. She is joining us from Virginia. He picked up a piece of chalk and tossed it toward one of the students.

That is in the United States of America, Mister Thomas.

Megan glanced across and found herself looking into emerald green eyes. The boy's face creased into a smile, and she turned away.

Anyway, I hope you'll make her feel welcome.

He turned toward Megan. Croeso i Ysgol Flint, Megan.

She smiled Diolch yn fawr, Mister Evans.

His eyes widened. Ydych'in siarad Cymraeg?

Megan nodded.

Ah, Gwych, he said, with a smile.

He waved at two empty chairs. Now, take a seat please, ladies.

Megan headed for the nearest one; she hit her foot on something and almost stumbled headfirst into it. She glanced across at the smirking face of a girl with short ginger hair.

Whoops, she said, as she pulled her foot back under the desk.

You'd better take a seat before something else happens, you little creep, she hissed.

Yes, thank you, Miss Jones. Now, as I was saying. The amoeba is a single-celled organism.

Megan glanced across at Alison and she grimaced.

It took a second for Megan to make the connection. 'Miss Jones'; the same surname as that Tanya girl. Knowing her luck, they were the same person — awesome.

CHAPTER 2 - Bully

So, what do you normally order? Megan asked.

Alison shrugged. Chips, sometimes a battered sausage as well.

Having not had the chance to speak with Alison after Mr. Evan's biology class, Megan had agreed to meet her at the 'chippy' during lunch recess. The fish and chip shop was a five-minute walk from the school.

Chips, or fries, as Megan would call them, were familiar, of course, but not battered sausage. It sounded kinda gross.

She stepped up to the counter. Two chips and two battered sausages, please.

Alison stuffed her hand into her pocket, but Megan stopped her and smiled. It's okay, I'll get them.

Thanks, she said.

The man behind the counter held up the polystyrene trays. Salt and vinegar on these love?

Megan glanced at Alison and received a nod of confirmation.

Yes, please, she replied.

So, what exactly is a battered sausage?

Alison laughed. You've never had battered sausage before?

Megan shook her head.

You've eaten fish and chips though, surely?

Yes, a couple of times.

Well, they use the same fish batter on the sausage. It's well nice.

The man placed two wrapped packages on the counter, and Megan gave him the five-pound note. Alison grabbed the food as the man returned the change.

When they were outside the shop, she handed one of the packages over.

Megan looked around; there were a bunch of kids standing around eating as cars streamed past on the road that ran up to the freeway.

Do we just stand around and eat? Is there any place to sit? she asked.

Let's eat them on the hoof.

On the what?

The hoof, you know, walking.

They set off down a street leading away from the traffic. Megan popped a chip into her mouth.

Go on, have a bit of sausage, Alison urged.

Megan had planned to build up to it, but what the heck. She picked it up and took a bite.

And? Alison asked.

It's hot, Megan managed with a mouth full of food.

No, the taste, silly.

It's good. Megan was surprised. It really was.

See, I told you. She stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth.

I didn't get chance to ask you before, Alison, but that red-headed girl in Biology, was that . . .

Tanya? Yep.

Shit.

If you're lucky, she'll leave you alone.

And if not?

Have you thought about other schools?

Megan laughed, but Alison didn't join in.

There's always the Dickie Gwyn down the road, she said. It's catholic like, but I don't think you have to be one to go there.

She can't be that bad, surely?

The rumor is that she stabbed someone over the summer. Then there was poor Tracey Phillips. Tanya made her life a living hell.

And what happened to her?

She drowned in the River Dee last Autumn. An accident they said, but a few of us think she topped herself.

Topped herself?

You know, killed herself.

Because of Tanya?

Alison nodded.

Jesus.

By this stage, they were at the school gates.

I've got to go and speak with Miss Slater about my English homework. Maybe I'll see you later? And thanks for the sausage and that.

Anytime.

She called her parting shot over her left shoulder. And try to keep out of the way of 'you know you'.

Megan shuddered. Christ, that made her sound like a female Voldemort.

She glanced at her watch — five minutes to kill before the end of lunch. She wondered how long it would take to walk around the school buildings.

With her mind a million miles away, she bumped into a girl with long, blonde hair.

Sorry, my fault, Megan said.

The girl shoved two hands into Megan’s chest. Too right, it's your fault, she growled.

Megan pushed back. I said I was sorry.

Perhaps that isn't enough, eh Jen?

Megan swiveled around at this new voice. The grim face below the short red hair cracked into a smile come grimace. Two girls flanked Tanya; they weren't her size, but big enough.

Who do you think you are? Welsh speaking Yank. Little teacher's pet. Eying up my bloke.

I don't want any trouble, Megan said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

Tanya stepped forward and grabbed Megan’s hair. Well, tough shit. How much money have you got?

Not much. Megan rummaged in her pockets and tossed a couple of coins on the floor.

You must have more money than that. Come on, cough it up. The grip on her hair tightened.

That's all I've got, honest.

Punch her in the face Tanya. Bloody Yank.

As Megan mulled over her options, which were limited given there were four of them, a deep voice boomed out.

What the hell is going on here? The hand holding Megan’s hair relaxed.

Well, I'm waiting.

Nothing, Mister Evans, we were just messing around.

Megan considered that a funny way to describe extortion.

Tanya whispered, I'll see you after school, Yank.

The four of them sloped off as Mr. Evans approached.

Making friends already, Miss Lynch. Da iawn. The hint of a smile cracked his lips.

Megan smiled thinly. I don't think they liked my accent, sir. He chuckled to himself as the bell rang.

Well, you'd better get yourself off to your first afternoon lesson. Maths isn't it?

Yes sir, math.

He gave her a wry smile. Of course; math, as you Americans like to say. Well, either way, run along before you're late.

♛

At the front of the class, Mr. Simpson pointed at the diagram he'd drawn on the board.

So, to summarize. Longshore drift is the movement of material along a coast by waves which approach at an angle to the shore but recede directly away from it.

Megan glanced at the clock as the minute hand ticked toward forty. Any moment and the bell would ring to signal the end of the school day. If Tanya and her cohorts were waiting for her, then toll would be a better adjective. It was crucial to be one of the first out of class.

Surreptitiously, she transferred her belongings into the backpack.

Going somewhere Miss Lynch? Stay behind after class if you please.

Megan grimaced. She would be last out now rather than first. The shrill tone of the bell heralded escape for the masses, but no doubt a lecture for her.

At the front of the empty classroom, Megan stood, trying to look shamefaced.

Not a great start to your first day, is it, Megan? Late arriving and attempting to pack up early. I realize it is difficult adjusting to new surroundings, but you will need to buck up your ideas, young lady.

The words washed over her as the seconds ticked by. Somehow, she resisted the urge to peek at the clock.

Right, get yourself home. Megan smiled politely and walked toward the door as quickly as she could without breaking into a sprint.

With a quick glance right and left to check for teachers, she took the stairs two at a time. She pushed open the doors and her heart sank. Leaning against the gate, blonde hair resplendent in the afternoon sun, well as resplendent as a bottle of bleach could make it, was one of the girls from lunch recess — Jen. She appeared to be on her own, for now at least.

Deciding to take the bull — or cow in this case — by the horns, Megan walked confidently toward the gate. She'd managed one step through when there was a tug on her arm.

Where do you think you're going? Jen yanked Megan sideways. Without thinking, Megan allowed herself to be pulled and using the momentum, stepped in, and flipped Jen across her hip in a perfect jiu-jitsu throw.

Leaving Jen and several disbelieving gasps behind, Megan briskly walked away. She had no desire to wait around for Tanya and the others to appear. Jiu-jitsu skills or not, four on one were not odds to be relished.

Looking left, Megan stepped off the sidewalk and in quick succession, hands gripped her shoulders and a blue Mini Cooper, horn blaring almost mowed her down.

Saved your life.

She span around, fists balled.

Hey Megan, it’s me, Alison.

Megan’s hands relaxed, and she flashed her a weak smile. I’m still not used to cars driving on the other side of the road.

Alison chuckled. Come on, it’s clear now.

Megan glanced over her shoulder. The near car accident had attracted attention, and a group of kids were watching as they crossed the road, but no shock of red hair was visible.

I saw what you did to Jen Mitchell. It was brilliant.

Megan shrugged away the compliment.

Where did you learn all that? She waved her hands in the air like she was karate chopping an imaginary opponent.

My dad taught me the basics, and I go to a Jiu-jitsu class twice a week.

What does your dad do?

He was in the military.

Was?

He’s dead.

Alison stopped walking. Oh, I’m sorry. How?

He was killed in action.

Her mouth dropped open. In a battle?"

I don’t really know. They just said he was killed in action; they don’t give you any details. In truth, Megan had heard a few snippets of conversation at her dad’s wake. Something about an ambush gone wrong.

She set off again at a quick walk, not wanting to linger just in case Tanya headed home the same way. She hadn't quite broken into a trot, but her speed would have given one of those Olympic walkers a run for their money — if that wasn't an oxymoron.

Trailing in her wake, Alison resorted to a quick jog to catch up.

What about your mum?

What about her?

Where is she?

Back in Virginia.

What does she do?

She’s a civilian contractor working for the Department of Defense.

Doing what?

Translating stuff; I dunno what exactly. She says it’s on a ‘need to know’ basis. And, that I don’t.

Don’t what?

Need to know.

Alison chuckled. So, how come you’re here in Flint then?

My mom sent me to live with my gran. Her house is down by the castle.

I’m confused, she said.

About what?

How come your gran lives in Flint?

My mom is from Flint.

Oh right. Don’t you mean ‘off Flint’?

It was Megan’s turn to chuckle. Yes, my gran mentioned that people from Flint say that.

Alison stopped again, and Megan peered up the avenue on the lookout for ginger hair.

This is my house. Do you want to come in?

Thanks, but I should probably get back. My gran will worry if I’m late, especially as it’s my first day.

Alison looked a little crestfallen for a moment, then forced a smile. Sure, maybe another time?

Megan flashed her a smile. Definitely; I have to introduce you to the best band in the world, remember?

The Dollyrots, right?

Megan punched her playfully on the arm. Damn straight.

♛

At the end of the arrow straight road, Megan could see part of the castle, or rather what remained of it. Built in the late thirteenth century by the English king, Edward. The first of six, he commissioned in an attempt to subdue the rebellious Welsh. It survived in relatively good shape until the English Civil War four centuries later, when the walls were badly damaged by the cannons of Oliver Cromwell’s Parliamentarian troops.

Her gran's comment on the subject? Bloody Cromwell ruined our castle.

She paused on the bridge, arcing over the railway, and stared at the impossibly straight parallel lines made by the tracks. The west bound line headed deeper into North Wales, while the east bound line arrowed toward Chester — a day’s march away for medieval English troops. Although ruined, how cool was it to have a real-life medieval castle a five-minute stroll from where she lived? Virginia Beach this was not.

♛

Hi gran, it's only me. Megan tossed her backpack onto the kitchen table and pricked up her ears. She could hear two muffled voices coming from the lounge. It sounded like her gran had male company and they were speaking Welsh, at least it sounded like Welsh.

In here love.

Megan pushed open the door and scanned the room. Her gran's guest was in his late twenties, ruggedly handsome, with a droopy mustache and long untethered dark hair. He exuded an aura of quiet confidence that reminded Megan of her dad’s friends.

This is Dafydd. The man stood and bowed at the mention of his name — the old Welsh version of the modern name David. The 'y' being pronounced 'u' — one of the first things Megan had learned about the Welsh language.

Did you have a good first day at school, love?

Err, okay I guess.

Megan, what happened? She thought about lying, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Besides, this could be the best chance of a transfer to the catholic school. For the next five minutes, she relived the trials and tribulations of her first day.

Her gran grunted. Tanya Jones. Our Rhiannon went to school with her mum. She was a nasty piece of work an’all. It seems like the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.

The man fired off some words and her gran smiled.

Dafydd here is all for finding the girls in question and giving them a beating. He glanced at Megan, his face cracking into a thin smile. Her cheeks warmed.

I told him that I would speak with your head of year at the school.

Megan preferred Dafydd's idea. What language are you speaking gran? It sounds like Welsh, but different.

She smiled. It is Welsh, my dear, but as it would have been spoken back in the day.

Back in the day?

Around the time the Saes built the castle.

Every day she learned a new colloquialism from her gran. 'Saes' was the local way of referring to an English person. Megan had looked it up online. Originally, it described the Saxons, but nowadays people used it to refer to any English person, usually in a derogatory manner.

I'm gonna get changed, Megan said.

As she turned to leave, a strong hand rested on her shoulder. Dafydd held up a silver chain; a dark blue stone set in a silver backing dangled from it. He placed it around her neck and a jolt of energy surged through her body as the stone rested against her sternum.

Gwarchod, he said solemnly.

It's for . . .

Protection. Megan finished her gran's sentence, wondering how she knew that word? It wasn't one she'd learned so far.

Her gran’s eyes widened. Anyway, Dafydd was just leaving, and tea will be on the table in half-an-hour. We can discuss what we're going to say to your head of year, then.

You're coming to school with me?

Of course, dear.

Megan stifled a groan.

CHAPTER 3 - Fuel To The Fire

Megan and her gran paused at the bottom of the hill. Two girls glanced over and sniggered. Megan recognized one of them from her geography class.

You really don't have to come with me, gran.

Nonsense, we need to get this Tanya thing nipped in the bud. She strode off, and dragging her feet, Megan followed.

What's the deal with that Dafydd anyway? How do you know him? Megan asked.

Oh, he's an old friend of the family.

He didn't look that old.