East

  East

  A History Interrupted novel

  By Lizzy Ford

  http://www.LizzyFord.com/

  Cover design by Eden Crane Design

  http://www.EdenCraneDesign.com/

  Kindle EDITION

  East copyright ©2014 by Lizzy Ford

  http://www.LizzyFord.com/

  Cover design copyright © 2014 by Eden Crane Design

  http://www.EdenCraneDesign.com/

  Photography copyright © 2013 by Cathleen Tarawhiti

  http://cathleentarawhiti.deviantart.com

  Fleuron © spline_x - Fotolia.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  This book was inspired by a Hardcore History podcast by Dan Carlin. I had never thought twice about the Mongol Empire and knew next to nothing about it prior to the fourteen hour podcast! After listening to it, I was so intrigued by the world Dan painted with his narrative, I knew my time traveling heroine had to visit!

  Special thanks to Dan Carlin for the inspiration and the incredible amount of research that went into such a presentation.

  Other reference material included:

  Secret History of the Mongols: The Origin of Chingis Khan, Paul Kahn translation

  The Secret History o the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire by Jack Weatherford

  Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World by Jack Weatherford

  A few other random history books I flipped through at BN but balked at purchasing because of the price

  Ancient Mongol naming and linguistic websites

  And … yes, Wikipedia. I don’t care what anyone says. Wikipedia is for curious people who have no attention span. People like me.

  Prologue – from West

  Only I would know there once was a good man named Taylor Hansen, whose sole wish in life was to retire and live in peace with me.

  He deserved so much more, and I had taken everything from him.

  The tears began again. I made no effort to stem them this time.

  The shadowy figure pressed a large thumb to the back of my neck. I waited for the brilliant light or maybe, for him to chop off my head the way he had halved Nell.

  Something smashed into my head instead, and I slid into darkness.

  ***

  Gradually, I became aware once more. I was engulfed in brilliant light and heat, caught between the sensations of moving rapidly and floating in place, distantly aware of sonic booms and cracks, as if traveling between times required ripping the fabric of the universe.

  This trip was smoother than the first and felt shorter. Seconds after the sonic boom, the light cleared, and I was left on the ground in the dark.

  It wasn’t rainy – but it was freezing. Bone-deep coldness gobbled up the heat generated by time travel, and I began shivering before I opened my eyes. Sunspots blinded me for a moment. I tested out my body as I waited for my vision to clear. I was uninjured from the travel, simply disoriented.

  How many times did Taylor travel like this? I almost sighed. I’d hoped Carter would wipe my memory, if that were even possible. I was hurting once more, unable to stop thinking about my first trip through time and how I was the sole person left standing when it ended.

  The empathic memory chip was strangely silent, and I realized how much chatter had been going on in the back of my mind. Now there were just my sad thoughts and the dread of guessing what Carter had in store for me next.

  I sat up. Moldavite chunks steamed around me in the crater. I wore the same clothes I’d changed into before leaving the eighteen forties and gazed at the sky. The stars were brilliant and bright, the moon a sliver and sky completely clear. I’d never seen a night like this with all the light pollution in my home of southern California. It was too stormy for me to notice the sky in Indian Territory. But this … this was absolutely breathtaking.

  And cold. Jesus – had I ever been this cold? It hurt my nose and lungs to breathe. I wrapped the riding habit around me more tightly and tucked my face into the tall collar. Making my way to the edge of the crater, I climbed out onto what looked like the steppe: a wide, open land of short cropped, verdant grass that glowed silver in the moonlight. In the distance were mountains, and between them and me …

  Nothing.

  “It’s freakin’ cold here!” I muttered. The air was still but had begun to penetrate my wool coat.

  There was no Taylor to rescue me this time. The reminder left me feeling more desolate than the steppe stretching out before me.

  The sound of movement and shuffling reached me, and I turned, letting out a startled gasp.

  An army of forms on horseback extended behind my crater towards another set of mountains, as far as I could see. The men were watching me in complete silence that defied the size of the force. No one stirred. I doubted anyone was even breathing. They were as still as statues, until one of them dismounted.

  He dropped all sizes of swords and knives on the ground at his feet before approaching me. Removing his helmet, he stopped a good six feet away, his gaze on the distance between us. He seemed to be thinking about whether or not he wanted to get any closer.

  I took in his appearance and dress, trying to place where – and when – I was. His face was round, his eyes almond shaped and skin tone pale olive with ruddy cheeks. He wore layers of clothing: thick, bulky wools and fur-lined leathers over loose trousers and a wide belt cinched at his waist.

  I’d never seen anyone like him. Of everything about him that intrigued me, his hair was what I fixated on. Beneath the bowl-shaped helmet, he wore two long braids of grey that marked his seasoned age, one on each side of his head. The rest of his head was shaved.

  “Father Sky sent you to bless our battle,” he spoke.

  Father Sky. At no point in college had I studied ancient religions, so placing the reference was beyond me. I had no idea where I was. Somewhere in Asia, maybe. Not China, not India, certainly not Europe or the Middle East. Like many Americans, I could probably find India and China on a map, but I had no clue what countries lay in the vast space between them. It would be just my luck to end up in one of those places.

  “The moon guides us with its white path,” he continued with a low bow. “It is an honor to be blessed by Father Sky in such a way.”

  I understood half of that. “Nice to meet you, too,” I managed awkwardly.

  A ripple of whispers went through the first several lines of horsemen able to hear me. The man before me broke into a wide smile. “We have milk and meat for you, Goddess of the White Path. You will eat with us this night, and tomorrow, you will accompany the silks and slaves to the Great Khan, so that he may witness this honor.”

  Great Khan. Now that I recognized. Alarm ricocheted within me, and something Carter said when we first met blared through my memories.

  Tell that to Genghis Khan when you meet him!

  “Oh, Carter. You did not send me back to the era of Mongol conquest,” I whispered.

  “Bring my finest horse!” the man ordered over his shoulder.

  If I thought peeing in a bordalou was bad, I didn’t want to know what awaited me here.

&n
bsp; Chapter One

  The next several hours occurred in a flurry of activity that rendered me a speechless observer. Where there had been an army on horseback, suddenly tents began springing up in every direction, as if growing out of the steppe like fat mushrooms. I was too cold to do more than huddle and shiver next to the horse brought to me. I was dizzy from traveling and in no shape to ride, so I stood by the animal and struggled not to freeze to death while the camp took shape.

  The Mongol warriors moved with quick discipline and barely spoke above a whisper. Their communication among one another was nothing short of baffling: hand signals, grunts, and orders given in the forms of poems or chants. The thump of drums filled the air, coordinating their movements. Their commander remained near me, and I was ringed by warriors that towered over the rest of the men who were closer to my size.

  “What was it like to be cast from the sky, Goddess?” the commander asked me.

  “I am not a goddess,” I said through chattering teeth.

  “The Eternal Blue Sky sends a great gift, goddess or woman. Father Sky does indeed bless us,” he said, unconcerned. “You fell from the moon to light our path.” He pointed to the thumbnail moon above. “If Goddess does not please you, then do you object to Moonbeam?”

  I shook my head. It sounded like a total flower child name from the seventies. Moonbeam was pretty, and I was too cold to correct him and provide my real name.

  And … giving him my real name seemed too personal. I wanted no connection to this place and people after how my first trip ended – with everyone around me dead.

  Huddling next to the horse, I sneaked a look at my cell phone.

  There are pills in your pocket. Try as I might, I didn’t get the time right. After you meet HIM, take all the pills at once, Carter, my handler and the man who sent me back in time, had texted on the magical phone that worked when it shouldn’t.

  Reaching into the other pocket of my gown, I pulled out a pouch filled to the brim with pills. My fingers were too frozen to open the bag, but there must have been more than twenty of the horse pills within. I clumsily typed him a response, not trusting his intentions now that I had witnessed how much he lied to me.

  Why?

  Carter was waiting for me, apparently, because he was fast to answer. I can’t move you forward in time. What I can do is put you into a stasis where you’ll need no food or water and you won’t age. Basically, it’s like a poor man’s cryogenics. The pills will put you under, and you’ll wake up in a hundred years or so.

  I really wished I hadn’t asked.

  “That’s insane.” First the empathic memory chip that allowed me to read dead people and had to be turned off with a blow to the head, and now poor man cryogenics. Just when I thought he couldn’t say something else to surprise me …

  “Moonbeam?” the commander asked. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Cold,” I responded. “It was a very long … uh … fall from the moon.”

  He belted out orders to those around him, and two of the guards dashed off into the midst of the camp. “You have traveled far to be here. You will not wait much longer,” he told me.

  I didn’t know what to say to him or Carter and so I tucked my phone away. Moments later, a woman dressed nearly identical to the male warriors approached. The main differences I could see: she had no belt, and her hair was piled on top of her head under an elaborate headdress. She wore the same mix of robes and pants split for riding. There was a bow and quiver of arrows at her back and a white feather tucked into her dark hair.

  She gave a low bow to the commander, and then snapped in a tone quiet enough for only the two of us to hear, “Why do you keep her waiting, husband?”

  I blinked, not expecting the saucy remark to the man in charge of an army.

  “I will not send Father Sky’s gift into any ger but ours, wife,” came the surly response.

  “So you will let her freeze.”

  “The affairs of the army do not concern you.”

  “The affairs of the ger and guests do.” She strode to me and bowed her head then leaned forward and sniffed me. “You will forgive my husband for your suffering. Please, come with me.”

  Distracted by her sniffing, I automatically sniffed my shirt, too, before glancing from her to the commander, not wanting to piss off anyone who ran an army.

  “Go on, Moonbeam,” he called gruffly. “Ghoajin will make you comfortable.”

  I followed the woman through the organized chaos of the encampment springing out of the steppe. Two of the massive warriors accompanied us, and she led us towards the middle of the camp and to a small tent with a rounded top.

  “We will rest here while my ger is erected,” she said and entered.

  A fire burned at the center of the round tent, its smoke curling up through a hole in the roof. Carpets were scattered over the short grass of the steppe, while a table for preparing food and drink was at the north side of the tent. Three beds were pushed against the walls, covered in thick wool blankets of dark colors.

  It was warm and toasty already in the tent, a relief from the cold.

  “Please, sit.”

  I settled onto a pillow beside the fire while she went to the table and poured milk into a goblet.

  “Drink.” Ghoajin brought it to me and then sat on the pillow nearest me.

  I sipped the milk. It was a little bitter, chilled from the cold, and thick. Definitely not the skim milk I was accustomed to. Not wanting to offend my hostess, I drank it down. It settled my stomach, which was still churning from the trip through time. The faint headache that accompanied both my trips through time faded as I drank and rested.

  “What manner of dress is this?” Ghoajin asked, puzzled, as she touched the wool riding habit. In the firelight, I could see how pretty she was with large, dark eyes, delicate features and gleaming, blue-black hair. She appeared much younger than her husband.

  “It’s, ah, how we dress far away.” I replied awkwardly. When exhausted, I wasn’t the best conversationalist.

  She stood. “You will not be warm enough. Wait here.”

  Ghoajin left the tent.

  I sneaked out the cell to check for any more bizarre messages from Carter. The adrenaline from the travel was starting to wear off, leaving me with the memories I came here to escape.

  There was nothing from Carter, so I texted him quickly. What am I here to do???? I knew better than to assume he had sent me back without a purpose and understood this time around the purpose he gave me might not be the truth, either.

  The worst part of all if this: I was at the mercy of a man I couldn’t trust whose motivations were too far beyond my understanding to predict. I knew he was using me, but I didn’t know why. My appearance in front of an army wasn’t the most inconspicuous entry into this time period, but maybe there was a reason for it. He had done his best the first time around to place me somewhere safe, and from my reception here, had done the same. They viewed me as divine or near divine after witnessing me survive a fall from the sky. As long as no one needed a demonstration of magical proportions, I was safe enough for now.

  I despised Carter for that, too. My life was in his hands. Unable to understand him or what he did, I at least was able to take some interest in witnessing worlds and times and people no one in my era ever had. My favorite television show was Doctor Who, and pretending to be one of the Doctor’s human companions helped me view the world around me as a little less scary.

  Despite the sorrow and fear twisting my insides from my first trip back in time, I found myself curious about the place and time I knew nothing about. I was extroverted by nature and interested in people and their lives. When feeling returned to my hands and feet, I stood and went to the wall of the tent, wanting to know what kind of material could completely block the cold and wind of the open plains outside.

  “Felt,” I murmured and traced my fingertips down the thick, plush wool wall. It was too sturdy to be soft and so dense, not the faintest whisper of
a breeze penetrated it.

  The walls managed to block most of the ambient sound from outside as well. I opened the entrance without leaving, watching as a tent seven times the size of the one I was in was being erected nearby under the stern gaze of Ghoajin. More women were in this part of the camp, some with headdresses and others who appeared to be waiting on them.

  The two guards that followed me from the front of the army were at the door. Neither spoke or moved when I took another step out, and I gazed at them. They wore layers of wool and leather without the fur that lined the clothing of the commander. The blades of their swords were curved, the sheaths plain and they carried bows at their backs. Knives of varying sizes were at their waists, along with thick leather belts inlaid with iron filigree in the shapes of animals.

  Ghoajin motioned for two women bearing burlap wrapped bundles on their backs to follow and led them back to me. I entered the warm tent once more, a little nervous about how they would receive someone who seemed to fall from the sky. I was in desperate need of a nap and had no idea what social protocol I should know about this time period. I didn’t sweat the eighteen forties and shrugged my shoulders.

  Carter wanted something from me. I was safe here, at least until I did what he wanted.

  I watched the woman in charge sort through the contents of the bundles.

  “I have brought my best clothing. My ceremonial clothes,” Ghoajin told me and carefully unrolled long gowns of wool like hers.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said, surprised.

  “It is my duty, Moonbeam.” She gave me an odd look. “You cannot meet our Khan dressed as you are.”

  I glanced down and tried not to smile. I was dressed in my twenty first century pajamas and a long, wool habit from the mid-eighteen hundreds. If nothing else, I was going to freeze to death if I didn’t change into something more suitable.

  She motioned the two women towards me. They were more plainly dressed and their gazes on the ground. They approached and briskly began undressing me.

  Not normally self-conscious, I would’ve lost any sense of being so during my first trip to the Old West, where I had a governess who dressed me daily.