by Lizzy Ford
“No!” I yelled a little too loudly. “Leave me alone!” I pushed myself to the opposite side of the wardrobe.
Batu swiped at me. “Come down, Moonbeam!”
“So you can kill me?”
“I will not kill you.”
A shout from the door drew his attention. He leapt off the table and drew his sword to face the four knights spilling into the room.
“I don’t believe you,” I said and shifted, eyeing the beam.
“It is … true.” He grunted and began fighting the knights. “There has been a guardian assigned since you appeared long ago. When one dies … a new one is … chosen … in case you return. I am your guardian.”
“What if I never returned?”
“You did.”
Rolling my eyes, I watched him for a moment, until he stabbed a man in the stomach and ripped him open from navel to chin.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I fought the sense of detachment and urge to vomit.
“See, smell, feel, hear, Moonbeam!” he shouted from across the room. “If you pass out, you die.”
He was right. I didn’t want to consider what these people would do to me if I got caught. I repeated the chant he taught me in the dungeon and then opened my eyes, forcing myself into this reality and time.
He had killed three knights in the time it took me to rope in my senses. Shaking, I slid off the wardrobe to the table once more and started towards the beam.
A knife thunked into the beam ahead of my face, barely missing me once more. I sprang back.
“How can you claim to be my guardian and throw knives and swords at me?” I yelled somewhat hysterically.
He didn’t answer.
I heard the last of the men drop to the floor but didn’t move, afraid of Batu knifing my hand or worse.
“You belong to the Empire as determined by the Eternal Blue Sky. I do what I must to protect you,” he replied.
“Even if that means hurting me?”
“Yes. You were gifted to us. You will remain with us.”
I faced him. “I don’t belong to your people,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the too accurate image his words painted. “I think, as a goddess, I can choose to leave when I please.”
“No, you cannot.” He was serious for once. “You are a lamb, Moonbeam. I am a wolf. The more you struggle, the deeper my teeth sink. Do you understand?” He studied me. “If you choose not to go, I will take you in as many pieces as I must.”
My eyes slid to the pile of bodies behind him. No part of me doubted his terrifying claim.
“I can start by breaking your fingers.” His tone was almost one of conciliatory offering, as if breaking my fingers was better than his original plan of cutting them off.
This willingness to spare me was what Mahmood counted on. It struck me how wise the Imam had been.
“I would like the opportunity to accompany you without any broken bones,” I said as politely as possible. “But she must come with me.” I pointed overhead to the princess watching us both.
“You can bring your monkey.” He turned away and bent over the nearest body.
“What are you doing?”
He held up the ear he’d just sliced off and tucked it in his pouch. “Taking his ear.”
“I see that but, I mean … what are you doing?”
“Accountability.”
Did the language chip stop working? Because I had no idea what that meant.
The princess worked her way down the beam towards me.
“Why are you doing that?” I tried again.
“There are no bones.” He held up the ear. “It is easy to cut.”
“Why just one ear? Why not both?” The hysterical note was back in my voice.
Hearing it, Batu straightened from his task. “One ear per one man killed. Thus, our commander will know how many died and also that his orders were carried out. Each warrior must return with ten ears.”
This was … beyond definition. “I really don’t want to go with you.”
He sheathed his sword and approached.
I backed against the wall.
With no ceremony, Batu snatched my arm and dragged me off the table and into his hard, muscular body, my back to his chest. The sense of being rendered completely vulnerable by his pure size and power left me shaking and scared once more. He wrapped his arms around me and pried one hand free.
“I can start with this one.” He took my left pinky in his large hand and began squeezing.
“No!” I gasped and tried to pull free. It wasn’t possible, not with his strength. If anything, his grip around me tightened.
“You have a low tolerance for pain.” He sounded satisfied. “Let us both remember this.” He released my finger without releasing me. “Let us both remember, Moonbeam, you are also protecting my enemy, and I am allowing it.” These words were quieter, spoken against my ear.
My eyes found the princess again. She was waiting for me to help her down from the lowest beam.
“Lamb and wolf. Do not forget,” he added.
Overwhelmed, the sense of detachment crept over me again, a combination of fatigue, time travel and adrenaline brought on by terror. I felt myself go limp in his arms. The world began to slide away, and this time, I didn’t care if it did.
“See me. Hear me. Touch me. Smell me,” he repeated in a low voice.
I ignored him and willed the spell to claim me. Maybe this time, when I woke up, I’d be elsewhere once more.
He jostled me to face him. One arm locked me against him while he rested his palm over my mouth. I blinked, not at all accustomed to being treated like a sack of potatoes or feeling like a delicate piece of china in the hands of a brute.
“See me,” his order was low. He held my gaze with his dark eyes, his look penetrating. His heart-shaped face was out of place for a man who slaughtered everyone who came within a foot of him. His head was shaded from the growth of new hair, his rounder face and high cheekbones giving him a purely exotic look I found intriguing. “Hear me. Smell me.”
I found myself obeying even though I didn’t want to. He smelled of man, steel, horses and his own dark musk.
“Feel me.”
Not that I hadn’t noticed the rock hard body against me, but in that moment, I truly experienced it, the way my softer frame molded to him, the power of his thick thighs, the arm holding me against him, the width and hardness of his chest, even of the calloused hand across my mouth. For a moment, there was nothing in any time period but us. We managed to transcend the thirteenth and twenty-first centuries, to connect on a primal level that defied time.
My senses filled with him, and he pulled me back from the brink where I sort of wanted to be. I doubted it was his intent in any regard, but if not for the blood, fear and time distortion, I’d almost call this strange experience … erotic.
“And you are back,” he said, reading my expression. His own softened, the amusement I couldn’t remotely understand returning to his eyes. “Fetch your monkey. We must go.”
He released me suddenly enough, I groped for the table to catch my balance. I was breathless, and this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was from whatever experience just happened.
I didn’t want a connection with anyone. Not the princess and certainly not him. The last person I noticed everything about, from the roughness of his hands to his musk, was …
Taylor.
Pain shot through me at the memory I didn’t want.
“Her name is Flowers,” I corrected Batu. He was already at the door, the delay between him speaking and me long enough to make my cheeks warm.
“Her name is Monkey, ugly one.”
Whatever. Shaking my head to clear my jittery senses of him, I climbed unsteadily atop the table once more and held out my arms for the princess.
She climbed down.
A little uncertainly, I helped us both off the table and took her hand, gazing at Batu, who waited at the door, sharpened gaze on whatever activity occurred in the hall
way. His sword was tucked away and the pouch of ears dripping blood. He hadn’t bothered to change clothing, and the shirt hanging off him did nothing to diminish the size of his frame.
“Why did he not kill us?” Flowers asked me.
Realizing she hadn’t understood the exchange, I sought the simplest explanation possible. “Mahmood was right. Batu’s people won’t hurt us and he is going to help us leave here.”
She wrapped one of her arms around me despite my attempt to reassure her, her gaze on the bodies between us and the door.
Batu waved at us to follow him and stepped into the hallway.
I didn’t want to walk through the carnage or risk being killed. I wanted to return to the rooftop and … what? Starve to death up there? Risk he’d follow through with hurting me until I broke down and did what he wanted?
I really did like my fingers and ears where they were. Mahmood seemed to think this was the best way, and my handler had only said to ensure the princess was safe.
On the surface, I had a lot of room to make my own decisions and do what was best. In reality, there was a Mongol warrior standing between me and any other path but the one he chose for me.
“Time for us to leave, Flowers,” I told the girl.
She said nothing and clung to me as we went to the door.
Batu waited at the end of the hallway. His people had taken care of the newest challengers and were bent over, slicing off ears. I focused on the man alleging to be my guardian and went to him.
Unaffected by the death and carnage around him, he shoved bodies out of his way with his feet and led us down the stairs.
There’s no way I’m staying here longer than I have to.
Chapter Four
The journey out of the city was another level of surreal. My senses were overloaded by the fire and smoke, the screams of slaughter and the sense I’d been dropped into a video game without a controller.
Batu strode through his fellow warriors to cheers and teasing about being captured. They supplied him with two horses – in exchange for ears, which weirded me out to no end. As if suspecting I was one heartbeat from fleeing, he rode with Flowers in front of him while I had my own horse. I followed him closely through the maze of fire and death out of the city, unable to take in the world around me – but sickened by my own cowardice. All I could think of was that I was glad I wasn’t one of Flowers’ people being beheaded or killed, that I was happy to be alive when the rest of the world was on fire.
The thoughts and relief didn’t seem … natural. Or healthy or right. I didn’t wish any of the people around me dead, but I was glad not to be among them, either.
It was a strange mindset to be in.
The rocky land beyond the city was cool and dark. We cantered through the fires I’d seen from my window, and I was able to see they were indeed decoys. There was no encampment here, only campfires evenly spaced to give the appearance of an army.
Beyond the hill, to the south, straddling a narrow river, were the familiar mushroom tents of the Mongol army. There were thousands in the quiet valley and herds of animals that stretched as far as I could see into the darkness.
Batu wove through the tents before stopping before one and dismounting. I followed his lead. This part of camp was quieter than the edges, though there was still a great deal of activity.
“I will take her to the children,” he said, motioning to Flowers, who remained on the horse.
“What?” I asked. “She can’t stay with me?”
“We travel elsewhere,” he answered.
I gazed up at him, wanting to ask or say so many things but pretty much failing to voice one word.
“She will be well, goddess,” he added at my stare. “And you will have a reason to stay.”
Blackmail. Or something like it. My stomach was already in knots, but it managed to twist into one more.
“I will return to the battle. I am short two ears, then take her to safety.”
“How can you be short? You killed over thirty people!”
“A few of my kin were late to the battle. I gave them some of mine.”
If we were talking about anything other than human body parts, I might regard him as considerate if not kind hearted to take care of his family. But we weren’t, and his sacrifice of ears was morbidly horrifying.
“You are to remain here,” he instructed me. “I will be gone following the battle to take Monkey to the other children. My uncle will watch over you.” He strode to the tent beside us and peeked his head into it. “Uncle! I am leaving my goddess with you!” Without waiting for an answer, he returned to his horse. He wound the reins of the spare horse to his wooden saddle.
I was stuck on the vision of him collecting more ears. Blinking my way out of it, I faced him. “Gone? Aren’t you my guardian?”
“No harm will befall you,” he assured me. “You are an honored guest, a goddess.”
“Or thereabouts,” I murmured.
“Or thereabouts,” he agreed. He took the reins of my horse.
“Batu, I …” There was no right way to tell him I didn’t want to be here or worse – I didn’t want him taking the princess and leaving me alone.
He waited.
“I’m going to cry and vomit for the next two days,” I managed.
“If it please you, ugly one. Do not try to leave.” He mounted his horse once more. “Lamb and wolf. I can hunt you wherever you go.”
Unless I time travel before you return. I rolled my eyes. It was an effective and somewhat freaky analogy, one that left me no doubt what happened to a lamb that challenged the wolf one time too many.
“Moonbeam.” The princess leaned away from him. Moonlight glinted off my phone.
I stretched to take it. “Thanks. Don’t be scared, okay? He said he’s going to protect us.”
She didn’t appear convinced.
Tugging my horse behind him, Batu trotted off with the princess. She leaned around him to gaze at me, a little scared and unfortunately, also trusting. I had no idea if Batu planned to do with her what he said he did.
I watched them then gazed at the tent. It was hard to feel my normal spirit of adventure after being dropped into a bloodbath. I focused on keeping my wild emotions at bay. Survival was my priority. I had to suppress anything that didn’t serve me making it out of here, including the horrific images in my head of what was left of the city.
My stomach growled, and I took a deep breath. No matter what, I needed food.
Stepping into the tent, my gaze was drawn first to the remains of a small feast on a table on one side and then to a loudly snoring man who appeared to be passed out on a few pillows near the fire. He was dressed for battle but hadn’t left the tent. A goblet of spilled wine was by his hand, and I assumed he’d been too deep in his cups to join the charge into the city.
I didn’t think twice about waking him and instead, went to the food to pick through it. There was meat of some kind, most of which appeared to have been gnawed on. I found a few chunks without teeth marks and gobbled them down, drank warm milk and then rounded it off with flat bread.
The wine was much smoother than I expected, and I drank a full goblet before the horror of my trip began to fade and warmth filled me. Only when I was calm once more did I approach the snoring man.
He was out cold. After my run in with Batu, I wasn’t really excited about meeting another of the ears-first-questions-later approach of the warriors. Instead, I stood once more and shook out my nerves then decided to do what I always did when I was stressed: yoga.
I wasn’t remotely good at it. The deceptively simple movements took all of my concentration and helped me shift my thoughts from the nightmare of the city to my awkward attempts to balance and move. Soon, I was in the zone, centering my emotions and suppressing the images of the massacre in the part of my mind that also stored Taylor’s death. My body moved less fluidly than usual, a side effect of being frozen or immobilized for almost a century. Even so, I was amazed to be in
the shape I was.
“What spell is this?”
I didn’t notice the snoring had stopped. Dropping my arms from the warrior two pose, I straightened and turned to face the man. He was on his feet, propped against a pole, his bloodshot eyes on me yet glazed from too much alcohol. His face was jaundiced, an unhealthy shade of yellow, which I took to mean he’d pickled his liver with alcohol over the years.
“It’s not a spell,” I said, puzzled. “I’m … uh, Moonbeam. Batu dropped me off here.”
“I know who you are.” He was staring at me hard. “I do not know what magic you were performing.”
“It wasn’t magic. I was stretching.”
“You will refrain from such stretching in my ger.”
“Okay.” What did I say to that?
“Tomeid!” He belted.
I jumped.
Seconds later, a man poked his head into the tent. “Yes, my lord?”
“Bow before the Goddess of the White Path, fool.”
The man named Tomeid’s eyes widened. He obeyed and dropped to the ground.
“Fetch her robes and milk!”
He crawled out of the tent and disappeared. I started to say something but stopped, not liking the way Batu’s uncle was looking at me. As if making some internal decision, he strode towards me and snatched my wrist. He drew a knife.
“Whoa, wait!” I said, startled. “What are we doing to the goddess?”
“The illness in my body. Your divine blood will purify me. The shaman has said only the divine can cure me.”
“First, my blood isn’t divine. I am a woman who is blessed by the Big Blue Sky or whatever you call it,” I said and yanked at my hand. “Second, Batu said I’d be safe here.”
“You misunderstand. I will not hurt you,” he said.
“Then how will you draw my blood?”
“The divine do not feel pain.”
“Not true. At all.” I shook my head vehemently.
“We shall see.”
Before I could register what happened, he sliced my palm open. Fiery pain shot through me. He flipped it to face the ceiling so the blood pooled in the center.
“That definitely hurt,” I whispered, another wave of nausea and dizziness washing over me.