by Lizzy Ford
“You can’t have her,” I said and swallowed hard.
His eyes moved to the girl behind me. With no ceremony, he lowered the sword and shifted forward, grabbing one of my arms. He spun me to face the tapestry and planted a hand at the center of my back, pinning me against the wall with ease. Sheathing the sword, he yanked off the scarf covering my hair and pulled down the back of the robe I wore to display the base of my neck.
“I did not come for her, Goddess,” he said and traced a thumb over the lotus tattoo I was now beginning to regret ever getting. A new feeling trickled through me, one of dread. Maybe my aunt was right about tattoos attracting the wrong crowd.
He sniffed me. I resisted the urge to ask what it was with his people and sniffing, too afraid to ask.
“I’m not a goddess.” It was a stupid time to protest and even stupider to ignore his claim, but the words slipped out before I could stop them.
He spun me once more, this time resting a heavy hand on my collarbone to keep me in place. “You are not ugly, either, Moonbeam,” he said, amused. He reached past me to grab the girl.
He knows who I am. I started to block him, but he pushed me back against the wall. He hauled her up by the robe and suspended her in the air, not hurting her but scaring the hell out of her by the expression on her features.
“Who is this?” he asked. “A slave?”
I hesitated, uncertain how to respond.
He met my gaze, waiting. He appeared sincere, as if he neither knew nor cared whom the girl was. His size and strength left me thinking I’d never really understood the meaning of intimidating until this very moment. It was humbling to know without a doubt if he meant to act, I had neither the strength nor the speed to escape or survive.
My death would at least be quick.
Unable to form a response under his intense look, I nodded.
Shouts came from the hallway, drawing his attention. “Do not run, Moonbeam,” he warned me once more. Releasing us both, he drew the sword and picked up another from one of the men he’d recently brutalized. He lingered, and I swore I saw him slice off the man’s ear and put it into a pouch at his waist before he then disappeared into the hall.
I’m going crazy. No one chopped off dead men’s ears, even this guy.
I released the breath I’d been holding, about to have a nervous breakdown yet knowing it was the wrong reaction if I wanted to live. Instead, I knelt and took the arms of the princess. We were both shaking, and there were tears on her face. “Do you … know a way out?”
She nodded and pointed up.
I followed her finger and stood back, gazing at the buttresses and exposed beams of the ceiling. Those nearest to the floor were about ten feet up. They extended along the walls and connected to beams twenty feet up that ran between rooms.
“Brilliant,” I murmured. It had been a while since I was on a balance beam, but at the moment, I really didn’t care. “You know where they go?”
She nodded. “Out … outside.”
“Come on.” I stood and picked her up, hurrying to the wall nearest us. The Mongol’s rampage of the room did us some good. We stood on the wardrobe he toppled to reach the windowsill. I was able to stretch and reach the beam. With some graceless experimentation, I finally managed to walk my way up the wall to the beam and straddled it. I leaned over to grip her hand and hauled her up with me.
It was hard to see what was in the next room over from here.
The princess was quick on her feet on the beam. I trailed, my focus split between the sounds of fighting and my balance. Squeezing through the space between ceiling and wall, we walked above the corridor outside her room.
Chaos was below us. The prisoner, the soldiers from the house, and on one side, two more men in distinctive Mongol warrior dress were fighting over piles of bodies. Blood drenched the walls, and I looked away quickly, disgusted by the sight. My stomach roiled. I forced myself to breathe steadily, aware we’d both be dead if I threw up over the corridor.
The princess led us down a second beam running parallel to the hallway before shifting to take us over an unoccupied room. She didn’t stop here, though, but went to the outside wall facing the city and moved through the opening in the wall and out onto a roof.
“Moonbeam!” The Mongol warrior’s bellow almost cost me my footing.
I caught myself against the wall and hurriedly squeezed through the opening onto the roof. The night air was warm and the breeze light. The A-frame roofs were steep, the space between them barely wide enough for my foot. One misstep, and we’d both tumble into the city below.
Near my wit’s end, I sagged against the eave nearest me.
The girl gasped from her spot at the edge of the crawlspace we were on. I pushed away from the roof and went to her.
The city was almost completely on fire. People poured out of one of the city’s gates into the dark night while smoke clogged the sky above us and blocked the stars.
I had thought Mahmood prone to exaggeration, but this was exactly what he said would happen.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked the princess in a choked voice.
“I don’t know.” She sounded ready to cry. “I … I used to come here to … hide.” She sank down into a sit and hugged her knees to her chest.
Double shit. We were trapped. If someone started this place on fire, there wasn’t anywhere for us to go.
I paced the length of the short crawlspace before determining we had a better chance of facing the Mongols than navigating the steep rooftops of the small palace we were on.
I sat beside her and sighed. I had no idea what to do next, unless it was possible to wait out the fighting like Mahmood had suggested to face the Mongols on our terms. If such a possibility existed with an army whose motto was submit or die.
The thought of watching Mahmood die made me sick to my stomach. He had known his fate and seemed okay with it, but it didn’t help me deal with it any better. It took all my willpower not to vomit and instead, I concentrated on surviving the night with a kid I knew nothing about.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Rabiyah.”
“I’m … Moonbeam.” My gaze slid to her, and I realized I was probably already doomed to have a personal connection here.
“I know. Do you not have a real name?”
No connections. No attachments. No heartbreak, especially not from the direction of a sweet little girl whose face was wet with tears and eyes looked at me like I was supposed to save her. “It’s a long story,” I murmured. “I fell from the sky one night and landed in front of an army of Mongols. They adopted me and named me Moonbeam. I like it better than my real name.”
A smile tugged up the corners of her mouth. “If I were to choose a new name, it would be Flowers.”
I grinned. “Love it. Want me to call you that? And you can call me Moonbeam?”
She nodded.
“Then no one will know who you really are.”
“No one must know.” She grew serious. “Mahmood said all these people are dying to save me.”
Talk about burdening a kid … I sought some sort of explanation I could give her. “It’s not your fault your forefathers did something to upset the Mongols. You bear none of that responsibility.”
“I am a princess. I must bear it all.”
“No, sweetie, you must not.” I smoothed back her hair. “The past can sometimes return to haunt us. There’s not always an explanation for what happens or why …” I drifted off, thoughts on Taylor. “But I guess in the end, everyone has a choice to move on. We’ll make one, too, to live through this and start anew elsewhere.” Somehow.
“You will come with me?”
“Yes. Mahmood thought that was wise, and I agree. Don’t you?”
She nodded.
Something stirred from the direction of the room outside which we were perched. I pressed a finger to my lips to quiet her, and we both crept forward to see what was going on below us.
The room was being searched and tossed while fighting raged on in the corridor outside it.
The men left, and the door stayed open.
Easing back, the princess and I huddled together and watched her city burn. The fighting stopped in the corridor not too long after. We didn’t leave our safe place, though, for fear of being caught. She hugged me, and I pulled her into my lap, leaning against the sloped eave behind me.
This is a nightmare.
I couldn’t begin to figure out how to get out of this mess. Mahmood could have been right or approaching the Mongols could get us both killed. I really had no idea, and I was terrified of being cut to pieces by a sword.
Chapter Three
Smoke swirled overhead for the rest of the night and even managed to delay the sunrise, or so it seemed. Billowing black clouds stretched out from the city towards the horizon. The rising sun was soon visible in the east, the murky ball appearing before the dawn had managed to pierce the smoke.
I waited for Flowers to fall asleep before checking my phone. My mystery handler had responded to my question.
My identity is none of your concern. Do as I direct you.
“Jackass,” I muttered, taken aback. I stared at the message, torn between anger and hurt and god knew what else. I had never pulled punches with Carter, but I felt comfortable with him, even when he was planning to pull the rug out from under me and leave me stranded in the past. There was something … familiar about Carter. Even now, it was hard for me to be angry with him.
But this stranger, who kidnapped me from Carter and sent me on a mission without even bothering to give me his name …
Who the hell do you think you are? I typed. Who do you think I am? I’m stranded in the past in the Mongol Empire on a roof waiting for them to chop down me and some little girl, and you’re going to refuse to give me your name because … what? You’re waiting for me to die here and now? Because my life doesn’t matter? Well IT DOES MATTER. Either you get your shit straight and get me out of here or I tell the Mongols who this girl is and take my chances they won’t kill me because I’m a goddess!!
It was probably the least diplomatic thing I’d ever said. I wasn’t prone to outbursts or anger or even grudges. But at this moment, I felt like unleashing all three at the stranger. I had no intention of turning over Flowers to anyone, but I was banking on my handler not knowing that.
The corridors nearest us had long since grown quiet. Fighting continued in other parts of the city. Achy from the awkward position dozing off and on, I straightened when the princess awoke. She pulled away to observe the damaged city through tear-puffed eyes. I automatically smoothed out her hair.
“It’s quiet here. I think we can find some food or something,” I murmured. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
My new handler hadn’t responded. I wasn’t surprised.
With a deep breath, I stood, stretched briefly and squeezed back into the room. Already I was able to see the bodies in the hallway and the blood covering the floors and walls. Steeling myself, I began walking across the beam, back towards the girl’s room. She trailed me and waited while I climbed down first then caught her when she leapt off the beam.
Her room was eerily quiet. I looked around, unable to pinpoint what was setting off my red flag, if not for the death and destruction around me. A sense of being watched, one I’d experienced several times in the Old West, tickled the back of my neck. If my empathic memory chip were active, it’d probably be trying to warn me of something. I saw no one, though, and brushed it off.
The bodies lay where they had fallen, and the scent of metallic blood was thick in the air. Queasy, I covered my mouth and made my way towards a pitcher of water. We both drank our fill.
My phone buzzed. Not expecting a response from the asshole who sent me here, I pulled it out to read it.
Is your empathic memory chip working?
I muttered a few curses under my breath, hating the mention of the chip. It’d definitely come in handy right now, but I kind of liked my brain enough that I didn’t want to ruin it. I sent a quick response.
“Where would we find food?” I asked Flowers quietly.
“Kitchens.”
“Where are they?”
“First floor.”
Ugh. I hesitated. A tiny voice wanted me to leave her here and fetch us some grub, but my instincts told me the biggest mistake I could make was separating from her. I took her hand, and we found a path through the gummy blood and heaped bodies to the stairwell she indicated.
Reaching it, I was dismayed to see even it clogged with bodies. I had the urge to break down and sob again, followed by vomiting for half a day. Instead, I swallowed the acrid taste in my mouth and picked my way through the dead.
We paused to listen at each floor and ensure there was no one waiting to ambush us or fighting too close to the stairs on the level we approached. The closer we got to the ground floor, the more activity we heard. Fighting raged in parts of the castle, and we slinked cautiously from floor to floor. Twice we had to stop and wait half an hour or more for those near the stairwell to move farther into the hallways.
“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” I said finally, alarm growing at the noise coming from the two bottom floors.
“Me neither,” she agreed.
Frustrated but valuing my life more than breakfast, I turned and led her back up the stairs to the quieter floors. Rather than return to her freaky room, we went to another void of the bloodshed that would make the best horror movie’s effects team envious.
Closing the door, we sat down near the far wall.
I checked my phone to see another message.
Your psych profile says you won’t turn her over. Who I am is irrelevant to your mission. When she’s safe, contact me, and we’ll discuss the possibility of returning you home.
“Now that’s more like it,” I said, pleased by the response. I was letting the comment about my psych profile go for now, more interested in the idea of returning home. Carter had said he didn’t have the technology to send me back to my time, but Taylor claimed his people did. If his agency was the one calling the shots now, I had a much better chance of seeing my home again than before.
If I survive this adventure.
“What is this?” Princess Flowers asked and tilted the phone down to see the screen.
“It’s … uh … a tool,” I answered.
“What does it do?” She took it from my hands and examined it.
Wow. I had no idea how to answer the question.
Voices stirred from the hallway, and we both froze.
“Rabiyah?” came the soft call.
“It’s one of my guards,” she whispered to me.
“One who wants to help you or kill you?” I asked.
She gazed at me, large eyes sad.
“Let’s wait here.” The shadow of someone passing appeared beneath the door and floor. He was followed by several more. I didn’t know the politics or people well enough to understand who to trust, and judging from Flowers’ face, she didn’t either.
Mahmood would.
Thinking of what happened to him made me hold my mouth. When this was over, I was going to be sick for days.
“Search the rooms,” someone directed.
We couldn’t reach the lowest of the ceiling beams without knocking over or moving a piece of furniture. My eyes went around the room. I stood and hurried to the tapestry running along one wall and ran my hands across it, seeking another hiding spot. The center of the heavy woven tapestry gave. I waved for Flowers to join me, and we pushed aside the covering to crawl behind it.
The cutout was the same size as the one in her room, barely large enough for both of us.
The door creaked open, and we clung to one another as someone entered.
“Princess, are you here?” a male voice asked.
She looked up at me. I shook my head, and her grip around me tightened.
More men joined the
speaker, until it sounded like a party in the hallway. Where had they all been hiding when this floor was cleaned out by the raiders? Mahmood would know … I didn’t think the princess did, or we would’ve ended up somewhere other than the roof.
Fighting broke out a short time later, and the door to our room emptied and slammed closed. I worked free of her and peeked out.
“I think the roof is safer,” I said, watching the flurry of shadows beneath the door. “C’mon.”
With the men fighting, there was no chance of moving furniture drawing their attention. I braced my back against a heavy table and slowly shoved it towards the wall where we could reach one of the beams. Reaching the wall, I plucked up the girl and set her on the table before climbing up beside her. She was shaking and scared again.
“Okay. Back to our safe little spot,” I said cheerfully. “Ready?”
She nodded.
I hefted her over my head to reach the beam. She clambered onto it.
Someone rammed into the door, and I jumped. It cracked open but no one came through.
“Go on!” I whispered to her, my pulse racing.
She stood and walked the sloping path to the beam above.
The door slammed open. “Ah, Moonbeam.” Batu, the Mongol from the dungeon, gazed at me and then up, attention settling on the little girl. “Clever little monkey. This is where you hid.” He sheathed his sword and started across the room towards me. He wore boots this time.
Rather than hop down from the table, I climbed on top of the eight-foot wardrobe nearby.
“What do you do, Moonbeam?” he asked, gazing up at me with a small smile. “You intend to climb to the moon?”
How someone like him, at a time like this, could crack a joke was almost as horrifying as realizing the pouch at his waist where he’d put one ear in now bulged, probably with more ears. I wasn’t able to reconcile humor and mass murder. It just … didn’t … click. Frozen in disbelief, I didn’t move until he leapt atop the table.