East

by Lizzy Ford

  And then died after she tried to kill me. The memory made my breath catch, and for a moment, I was lost in recalling how my first trip ended.

  “Did they displease you, Moonbeam?” Ghoajin asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  I blinked to clear my mind and realized the two servants had stepped back and were waiting.

  “No,” I murmured. “I am … tired from my journey.”

  “From the sky.” A note of wonder filled Ghoajin’s voice. “What is it like to be so close to Father Sky?” She snapped her fingers at the servants, who sprang forward to continue stripping me.

  “Very hot,” I replied, uncertain how to respond. “The journey was like floating in water and moving so quickly, your mind cannot keep up. It was like someone tore a hole in the sky and dropped me here.”

  She appeared satisfied, if not mystified, by the simple response.

  I shivered as the last of my clothing came off. With the pills in one hand and the phone in the other, I waited while the servants seemed to be going over my skin.

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “It was a long fall from the moon. We wish to be certain you are not hurt,” Ghoajin replied and joined them. “Your hair is almost white, pure moonlight.” She unwrapped the bun from my head and ran her fingers through my light blonde hair. “Your eyes are the color of Father Sky.”

  Sweeping my hair over one shoulder, she ran her fingers over the tattoo at the base of my neck. I got it when I was seventeen, against my aunt’s wishes.

  “You bear the pink lotus,” she said, hushed. “A sign of divinity.”

  “I’m not a goddess,” I replied. “You can see I am a woman like you.”

  “Not like me but yes. You are a woman with a divine mark.” She stepped away and motioned for her servants to continue. “You were sent to further our Khan’s quest?”

  “I believe so.”

  “You bring special knowledge or talent? A gift from the Eternal Blue Sky?”

  Dammit. Without knowing for sure why Carter sent me here, it was hard for me to answer the direct question honestly. “I … speak languages,” I said somewhat awkwardly. “When I am better recovered, maybe I can remember why else I was sent.”

  “Languages.” She appeared interested. “What languages?”

  “All of them.”

  “Every language under the sky?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is a great gift. No one man speaks all the languages of the Silk Route, the dialects of China and our own Empire and in the tongues of the West. Without the barrier of language, the Great Khan’s words will reach the four corners of the world before his armies.”

  “Ghoajin, my favorite wife. What have you to tell me?” came a gruff voice from outside the tent.

  “We have been blessed, husband,” she responded. “If my ger is not prepared immediately to receive our guest, you will not sleep inside it this night. We cannot dishonor the Eternal Blue Sky with our sloth!”

  I choked back a laugh, not at all certain it was appropriate but unable to prevent my reaction to her bluntness with her husband.

  “Bring her water!” Ghoajin barked at one of the servants.

  I downed another goblet of water and did my best not to get in the way of them dressing me. Two layers of linen later, they added a third, this one of much thicker wool and pristine white. It reached the tips of my fingers and tops of my feet and was followed by a white cloak and stole made of soft, grey fur. The layers were loose enough to prevent me from overheating and I guessed thick enough to stop the cold night from chilling me again.

  It was bulky but far more comfortable than the girdles I was forced into during my journey to the eighteen forties.

  “It is ready, wife,” the commander called.

  Ghoajin opened the entrance to the tent and stepped aside. “Come and meet our blessing.”

  I was itching to text Carter and ask a few pointed questions and instead, faced the opening of the tent. The commander entered and walked around me twice, trailed by men I assumed were sub-commanders or advisors by their seasoned age and the fact they wore fur.

  “Like silk,” he said and picked up a strand of my hair. “I have dispatched a rider to the Great Khan, who seeks peace in the mountains. It will arrive a day or two ahead of you to warn him of the honor that comes.”

  “How far is he from here?” I asked.

  “But ten days. You are fortunate you fell here where we are close.”

  Ten days was nowhere near close in my mind. But at least it would give me the space to figure out what I was doing there and formulate some sort of plan.

  “I overheard you say you speak all languages. Would you show us?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I replied readily. Carter installed three microchips in my brain: a language chip that allowed me to understand and speak every language under the sun, a history chip currently not working and the controversial, experimental empathic memory chip that caused my brain to start hemorrhaging during my first trip. It was a shame to lose it. The empathic memory chip let me read the memories of whoever was closest to me. It was an incredibly effective tool for self-preservation.

  However, I’d rather have my brain not explode in my skull than use the chip. From what I could tell, the only technology in my brain working was the ability to speak languages. I didn’t need to read a history book to know Mongolians of this time period didn’t speak American English.

  “Come to our ger where you will take the seat of honor,” Ghoajin said.

  They led me out of the small tent and into the much larger one. The fire in its center reached my waist, and there were pillows lining either side of the blaze. Some were occupied by men while servants lingered in the shadows.

  Ghoajin took her spot near the door while the commander ushered me to his right hand side as he sat on the pillow at the head of the men. I sat easily under the weight of the bulky clothing and then just as quickly struggled back to my feet when approached by two men.

  The commander nodded for them to address me.

  “Moonbeam, it is an honor,” one said and bowed. He was dressed very unlike the Mongols in clothing that reminded me of the paintings I had seen in a museum from pre-Renaissance Europe. “I am Lorenzo, an emissary of His Eminence the Pope.”

  “The honor is mine, Lorenzo,” I replied. “I have been to Rome.”

  “Did it please you?”

  “It was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited.”

  “I am honored, Moonbeam.” He smiled somewhat hesitantly.

  The man beside him wore ruby and gold, his style of dress marking him as Persian or Arab. “I am Mohamed, a merchant from the city of Baghdad.”

  “Baghdad,” I repeated, curious about the city. “Is it large?”

  “Yes, the largest city in the world, and very beautiful,” he answered. He kept his eyes at my waist. “With golden domes on mosques larger than the steppes. We are the center for religion and trade.”

  “I would like to visit one day.” Small talk wasn’t easy with these men. Mohamed appeared shy or maybe, reserved, while Lorenzo glanced frequently at the Mongol commander, as if to ensure he wasn’t overstepping his bounds.

  “Impressive. But how are you with tribal dialect?” the commander asked me.

  It all sounds like English to me. I didn’t understand the technology Carter put in my brain or used to talk to me via a cell phone nearly a thousand years from my own time.

  The other men were murmuring. Several of them spoke. I assumed they were testing me, though none of them sounded any different.

  Finally, the commander appeared satisfied that I spoke every language he could think of, and the men of his war council were equally pleased that it was a sign from their god.

  Exhausted from my first experience in the past and from the time travel, I eventually sat down and tried to focus on listening to them talk about the route they were sending me to meet their leader as well as their destination. />
  The servants kept refilling my mug with milk. It didn’t take long for fatigue, warm milk, and a blazing fire to knock me out. Whether or not I should have tried harder to stay awake, I didn’t know, but I dropped into a deep, dreamless slumber not too long after passing my language test.

  ***

  The vibrating of my cell phone against my hip woke me sometime later. I rolled onto my back and gazed up at the ceiling of the tent, recalling where I was. I was warm and snuggled under about four layers of blankets.

  Shifting to reach my phone, I ducked beneath the covers to check it.

  Your mission isn’t actually there, Carter had written. It’s later but still within the Empire about a hundred years past this point. The Mongols had a history of slaughtering anyone not deemed useful, so … make yourself useful. Is your history chip working?

  Carter was the worst history tour guide ever. I suppressed a sigh and shot him a quick response. I already figured out they respected someone who spoke multiple languages, which I hoped made me useful enough to survive an encounter with the legendary Genghis Khan.

  Lowering the phone, I started to doze off again when Carter messaged once more.

  Okay. From what I can tell, you’re in the middle stage of his campaign to take over the world. He hasn’t reached the Arab countries or Turkey. He’s been focused on China and the east after consolidating the Mongol tribes. He just returned from a defeat with the Chinese and is regrouping in the mountains of his home. He’s in his fifties now, and has four sons, an unknown number of daughters but assumed to be at least five. The Empire eventually becomes more diverse. You’ll see the influence of Islam on the western tribes and Buddhism on the eastern. Shamanism is central to their religious beliefs and they are very superstitious. Nine is a lucky number and they are huge on loyalty and honor. The women are expected to shoot a bow and ride a horse as well as the men, and …

  I read the brief history, curious about when I was. Carter gave me a general rundown of the era and also cautioned me about what was known of social protocol and norms. I was too tired yesterday to offend anyone, and I took note of what he told me as far as dealing with those around me.

  When I finished reading, I sent him a fast response. Neat. Got it. Um – about the ‘poor man’s cryogenics’ … are you serious???? What happens to me while I’m under? Is this experimental technology like the empathic memory chip that almost killed me??What if someone drops me like a statue and I shatter?

  The sound of movement and shuffling came from outside my safe little cocoon. I waited impatiently for Carter’s response.

  I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry!! When you see Genghis, take his pic. No one in nine hundred years has seen what he looks like!

  “Worst response ever, Carter.”

  I debated sending a heated response and reminding him about how well he had my first adventure covered.

  But in truth … I felt too angry about what happened. About the fact Carter purposely eliminated the best man I’d ever met from the face of the planet and used me to do it. I didn’t want to give Carter an ounce of any part of my emotions or thoughts. He didn’t deserve them and worse, I had a feeling he’d find a way to use them against me.

  I hated Carter for hurting Taylor, my husband of two days in the eighteen forties, and yet was doomed to do what Carter wanted. He was my only link to my world, my only hope of maybe one day getting back home.

  I considered his messages for several minutes before tucking the phone away. Nowhere near as eager as I was on my first adventure, I was also excited about being somewhere so completely new, a witness to events still spoken about during my time a thousand years later. It was here where I needed to focus, not on the memories trying to pull free from my mind of watching the man I cared about disappear from all of creation.

  Pushing my covers down, I prepared myself for a day of learning and exploration.

  A large form in layers of wool and leather rendering him even larger was near the entrance of the tent, back to me. I swung my legs down from the waist-high bed and tucked the blankets back into place before looking around. The servants, commander and Ghoajin were all gone.

  “Excuse me,” I started quietly. “Do you know where …”

  He faced me, and I stopped. He wore a leather mask over his features, and a familiar sword was sheathed at his side.

  It’s not possible. I shook away the sense of familiarity, knowing the man who saved my life in the eighteen forties, who chopped my governess in two when she went to shoot me, couldn’t be here in the Mongol Empire with me now. The two men were dressed similarly, yes, but that may have been coincidence and perhaps, a little paranoia.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “Do you know where Ghoajin is?”

  He held out a pouch in response. I checked my cloak pocket and found the bag full of pills gone.

  “Um, thanks.” I drew near enough to grab them then stepped back quickly, not liking the fact he was wearing a mask and dressed like the man who helped Carter send me back here.

  He tossed me a water bladder. It landed at my feet.

  My stomach began to sink. “Thanks. Again,” I said and picked it up.

  “Swallow them.”

  I shook my head and moved away from him, the sense of danger making my heart race.

  The stranger with a voice barely above a whisper drew his long, curved sword slowly. The sharpened metal gleamed, and I stared at it.

  “You don’t know what these are,” I said. “It’s not the time to-”

  “Now.” He smacked the flat of the sword against the leather armor over his arm. The sound made me jump.

  Reaching for my cell phone, I froze when he started towards me.

  “Swallow them. Now,” he repeated. “Or I kill you here.”

  My mouth went dry, and my mind wildly sought some sort of reasoning behind this. “You saved me at the well,” I managed.

  He gave a nod.

  “Carter sent you?”

  “I can force them down your throat, Moonbeam,” he replied.

  Shit. I had no idea what was going on, who this guy was or what happened to me during the poor man’s cryogenics. I didn’t even know if I was ever going to wake up and if I did, what happened if someone dropped me over the next hundred years, and I woke up with my limbs missing?

  The man started towards me again.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “I’m taking them.” Fumbling with the bag, I manage to tug it open and pull out one large, black capsule. “All of them?”

  “All of them.”

  I hope this doesn’t hurt. Praying silently to wake up in one piece, I began to swallow the inch long pills. I felt nothing as they went down my throat and settled into my gullet, except for a mild bloating caused by the amount of water pills that size took to choke down.

  When I finished with the last one, I held the pouch upside down to show him. “Okay. Now what?” I asked.

  “Now you sleep.” He sheathed his sword.

  “Will you at least tell me if Carter sent you to do this?” I asked once more.

  “He did not.”

  My mouth dropped open, and for a moment, I couldn’t summon words. The shock wore off quickly. “Then who did?” Taylor, my late husband from the eighteen forties, had once mentioned his people, an organization of time travelers who went throughout history to protect the natural course of events from people like Carter and those Carter sent back in time to alter history.

  Maybe they found me. I fished out the cell from my pocket, starting to panic. It was one thing to know I couldn’t trust Carter. It was another completely to fall under the influence of an organization I knew nothing about, one with the ability to do anything to me.

  With agility that caught me completely off guard, the man was suddenly by my side. He snatched the wrist holding the phone and pried the cell away from me. Even his hands were gloved; I saw no part of him that might tell me who he is.

  “Who sent you?” I repeated.

  The w
orld was growing fuzzy. Colors and objects blurred and ran together, much like I was underwater.

  With some difficulty, I focused on the man and watched helplessly as he took my connection to Carter and stuck it in his pocket. He pressed something else into my hand, but my eyes had ceased to distinguish shape and only knew light and dark. I wasn’t cold, though my limbs were no longer responding to my mental commands.

  The world around me faded sense by sense until finally, even light was gone.

  I slid into darkness.

  Chapter Two

  Cold. So cold. I breathed in water and choked, toppled into darkness and awoke again only for the world to appear as if I were gazing at the blue sky from the bottom of a pond.

  More darkness.

  More light.

  And always so cold.

  The cycle went on like some sort of horrific nightmare I wasn’t quite able to pull out of. The first sense that appeared to work correctly was that of sound, and I heard the strangest noise, one so unusual and gone so fast, I wasn’t able to capture whether or not I really heard it let alone determine what it was.

  Tingling of my skin came next, followed quickly by smell. My stomach was roiling, my limbs wooden and mind either too far ahead or too far behind. Either way, I was scared.

  Light burst upon me as if the sun had dawned in my face and nowhere else. At once, my senses caught up, and I reeled at the whorl of color, scents, voices, and sensation.

  Rolling onto my stomach, I threw up. I blinked away tears and grimaced at the mess beneath me. It was black, oily, as if I’d vomited motor oil.

  The world began to right itself, and I wiped tears from my eyes and rolled onto my side. I was on a table, covered by a blanket. It wasn’t exactly comfortable.

  “Your name is Moonbeam?” someone asked with a combination of cautious curiosity and disbelief.

  My surroundings cleared. A warm, evening breeze cascaded through white walls, past curtains so sheer, they appeared to be silk. The sky beyond was gorgeous. Splashes of pink and orange were being gobbled up by the dark blue of night. The scent of jasmine accompanied the breeze.