North (History Interrupted Book 3) Read online

  North

  History Interrupted, Book Three

  Lizzy Ford

  Cover design by Eden Crane Design

  http://www.EdenCraneDesign.com/

  North 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

  Cover Model: Georgia Stanwix

  Wheel flourish © bourbobbourbon via Fotolia

  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.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Also By Lizzy Ford

  About the Author

  Prologue

  (From “East”)

  I didn’t fight or try to understand exactly what was happening this time when I emerged from the darkness to feel the sensations of time travel. I didn’t care. Whether or not he meant to, Carter had destroyed me with the last trip through time. The Old West softened me up, and the Mongol Empire smashed my heart into a million fragments.

  My thoughts were on Batu, on the raw pain of learning who he was and the knowledge I’d never see him again. My only solace – knowing he had a shot at a normal life. Hopefully. At the very least, he was going to live. Carter had sworn as much.

  The final boom hit, and the intolerable heat reached its peak. The sense of floating began to subside.

  I waited for the cool touch of the outside world of wherever Carter had sent me to begin to dispel the heat. I wasn’t anxious at all to open my eyes and see where I was. In fact, I was half tempted to just lay there and see what –

  Freezing water swallowed me, jarring my senses. I freaked out. My eyes opened, but all I could see was darkness, and water flooded my mouth and into my nose. Panicking, I kicked my legs and clawed at the liquid around me. My fingertips were numb already and coldness touched my bones.

  I broke free of the water and coughed, sucking in deep breaths of air laced with sea spray. It was salt water, and fear shot through me.

  If Carter dropped me into an ocean …

  “Over there!”

  Thank god. I bobbed, at the mercy of tall waves that tugged me under, released me, then smacked the back of my head. Stars were bright in the velvety night sky above, and I struggled as my limbs quickly grew numb. I was shaking and cold.

  A lantern attached to the bow of a small boat morphed out of the darkness, headed towards me. “I’m … here!” I shouted. The waves pulled me under, and I barely had the strength to kick back to the surface.

  Someone grabbed me by the back of my neck and dragged me roughly over the edge of the rowboat and dropped me into the bottom. I strained to catch my breath and blinked away water to determine what I could about where I was.

  “You are far out for a night swim,” a male voice said.

  The other two men in the rowboat laughed.

  The face of the speaker leaned over me. He was a large man with pale skin, long, dark hair and blue eyes that glinted silver in the moon. He wore little more than a fur-lined vest and leather pants despite the cold night and flung a blanket of fur over my shaking body.

  I was going to freeze to death. I just knew it.

  “Jorgensen, who swims so far out at this time of night?” someone shouted from nearby.

  “A brave soul!” The dark-haired man named Jorgensen said in approval. “One of our women, no doubt to impress her man.”

  Whatever. Even if I could respond, I wouldn’t. As it was, I was far too cold to attempt to speak through my chattering teeth. I tasted blood and assumed I’d bitten my tongue but couldn’t feel it.

  The bow of a massive, wooden ship came into sight above my head, and I struggled to sit, taking in the dress of the blond and brown haired men peering over the edges and the size and make of the ship.

  Vikings. It was yet another era I knew nothing about, and I stared at it, cursing Carter for not sending me somewhere civilized and warm, like Greece or Rome or something.

  “You are a brave girl,” Jorgensen said. “But you should not swim so far if you cannot make it back.”

  “Tell me, woman, who is your man? Where is he this night?” another called from the ship.

  They were staring at me, waiting for my response. I huddled into the fur-lined blanket irritated and cold. “I don’t need a man,” I proclaimed. “I’m perfectly capable of swimming wherever I want and rescuing myself.”

  And in that moment, I knew I meant it. I was done being reliant upon anyone for survival, and I would never, ever again risk my heart, my sanity or my health for anyone else.

  “You have no man,” Jorgensen assessed. “But you are old enough you should have been wedded at least once. Are you a widow?”

  Ugh. I didn’t think it was any of his business, and I didn’t like the reminder that yes, I was a widow – twice over.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I am.”

  “You seek to impress Odin this night?” someone else joked.

  I didn’t want to impress anyone. I wanted to be left alone forever to wallow in my misery.

  But self-pity wasn’t in my personality, and I was already looking around out of curiosity at my new surroundings. The rowboat bumped against the warship while Jorgensen and a blond man on the ship spoke. I wiped my face, desperate to get out of the soaking clothing to warm up but not about to strip around a group of strange men who probably didn’t have twenty first century morals about naked women in their midst.

  I was going into this experience with a completely different mindset, one as cold as the waters of wherever I was. No attachments, no love, no happiness, no hope for a happy ending.

  I hurt too much to take a chance on anyone ever again. A familiar sense hit me, one I hadn’t yet experienced traveling back in time.

  Scooting over, I leaned over the side of the boat and threw up. I wasn’t able to see if it was black like my vomit was when I went forward in time. I had the headache of traveling to the past but had yet to throw up. My stomach was empty, and I dry heaved for a few minutes.

  Jorgensen grunted as he sat on the bench nearest me. “Olaf, take us back to the village. Our wayward swimmer needs warmth.” His gaze fell to me.

  I pushed myself up from the edge of the boat.

  “Do you have your own hearth or are you in need of one?” he asked.

  “In need of one.”

  “You are recently widowed then.” He was studying me. “I know a man who will want to speak to you.”

  Oh, god. Here we go. I sighed and turned my gaze to the sky. Bring it, Carter and the universe. I had no choice but to fi
nd a way to deal with whatever mess I’d been dropped into.

  I missed Batu already. Fighting back tears, I did what he had taught me and practiced grounding my senses in the present. Lanterns glowed in the windows of wooden homes with thatched roofs lining the bay of a small port. The sea air smelled of fish and salt, and the gentle rocking of waves bumping the boat helped ease some of my fear. Carter swore he’d put me somewhere safe. I didn’t quite know for certain where I was or how I was going to be safe around Vikings known for pillaging and burning down whole villages, but I had learned a few things about surviving over the past two adventures.

  I was going to make it through this, if not with Carter’s help, then because if I had learned anything, it was that I was strong enough to do it. Although … I’d trade everything I’d done and everything I was to return to the steppes and spend my life with Batu.

  Whenever you are, I love you, Batu. Raw and hurting once more, I willed the words into the universe and hoped they’d find him.

  The men rowed to a dock, and I prepared myself mentally for my next challenge as much as I could. No matter what, I had to survive. I had to discover what Carter’s end game was.

  It was all that mattered now that he had taken everyone else from me.

  That and finding a way to beat him at this twisted game.

  Chapter One

  I was sick of being cold. From the autumn nights of the steppes to the freezing water somewhere off the coast of Norway, this SoCal girl was tired of being miserable. The Vikings around me appeared cheerful, untouched by the chill that froze their breath and rendered their faces red. The one who hauled me out of the water didn’t even seem to mind the frozen sleeve of his right arm.

  I can’t do this. I didn’t feel sick to my stomach anymore, but my soul hurt. I’d dated a lot of guys in college, but Batu wasn’t anything like them. He was … perfect. Different, without a doubt, but mine. I wanted to spend my life with him.

  Technically, at this point in time, he hadn’t been born yet. Although, I’d been learning, time was flexible to the travelers, and Batu was one of them.

  Could he find me somehow?

  Not if Carter has anything to do with it. I had never hated anyone as much as I did the mastermind behind my treacherous journey through time. He took me away from Batu, but not before driving a wedge between my Mongol warrior and me. Carter had threatened to un-create Batu the way he had my first time-traveling husband, Taylor. If I could never forgive myself for not helping Taylor, who I had admired but not loved, then how could I ever live with letting Batu be un-created by Carter?

  I couldn’t, and the manipulative bastard in control of my life knew that. He always predicted how I’d react, and knew how to push my buttons from the very beginning. Before now, I had never thought to ask myself how he was always several steps ahead of me. From our first meeting, when he offered up a gift card he had to know would appeal to a broke, recent college grad, to dropping a man like Batu in my path, probably knowing I’d fall in love with him. He’d been targeting me from the beginning.

  He always found me. Always knew what to say to force me to do what he wanted.

  Freezing and shaking at the bottom of a Viking boat, I couldn’t help feeling surprised that I never asked myself how before. I’d been stuck on why since meeting him. Was this part of a psych profile he did on me, similar to the one Taylor’s agency – the organization trying to prevent Carter from interfering with history – had told me they’d done? Even if Carter had a profile, how did he know the specific details he needed to push me around? How did he know to be where he was in Tombstone, to place me safely in the Mongol empire, to toss me exactly here, in front of three Vikings in a boat, instead of in the middle of the ocean, far from anyone who could help me?

  Carter was freaky brilliant, an evil mastermind who had made me the center of his life for reasons I didn’t think I’d ever understand.

  The small rowboat bumped against the dock. Two of the men sprang out and tied the small watercraft to it. The third, Jorgensen, wrapped an arm around me and hauled me unceremoniously out of the boat.

  There was a time when I’d have been offended to be treated like a bag of potatoes. That time would’ve been when I wasn’t too cold and wet to feel most of my body.

  Oblivious to the cold killing me, the three spoke warmly and walked down the dock, in no hurry to return to the village perched at the edge of the fjord. When we reached the end of the dock, Jorgensen and the others paused to talk a while longer before they fell quiet.

  I couldn’t see the other two men, but Jorgensen tensed. He sighed, and the three of them began walking once more. This time, no one spoke, and their pace was slower.

  I really felt like I was dying this time, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. Fortunately, Jorgensen didn’t seem to mind hauling me around with him.

  The village was quiet. We appeared to be the only ones out. Jorgensen took me deeper into the village. When he reached a dwelling – somewhere in size between a hut and a tiny cabin – whose door was overhung by drying herbs, he hesitated, hefted me over his hip and then pounded on the door and stepped back quickly, as if the door was hot against his fist.

  The other two men stood back, peering anxiously towards the door with one wringing his hands.

  The lights of the home were out, but the door opened not a second after Jorgensen’s knock.

  He took another step back, distancing him from whoever answered the door. With my ass to the door, I couldn’t tell who was there or why all three of the upbeat Viking warriors suddenly seemed tense, uncertain.

  “You were right,” he said. “She fell from the sky in front of our faering.”

  “Bring her in,” answered a man’s voice, low and hoarse, a silky, creepy hiss.

  The Viking warrior obeyed. He set me down on the ground near a table and backed away quickly, returning to the doorway. The other two stood close enough to peer with a combination of curiosity and dread into the cabin.

  A man all in black lit a lantern, shedding some light on the sparse interior. A table, shelves for storage, small workbench, hearth, trunks, and other meager possessions were all I could see.

  “For your effort.” The hooded man tossed Jorgensen a chunky piece of gold. “And for your silence.” He tossed him a gold cup with a single murky ruby embedded into it. “If all of you drink from this cup, you will be blessed with Thor’s ferocity in battle.”

  Jorgensen smiled nervously and retreated out of the cabin. He closed the door behind him. The three of them hurried away, their boots crunching in the snow.

  I rested my head on the ground. The draft didn’t bother me at all when I was almost dead from exposure. I couldn’t help thinking of Batu, of how warm and strong his body had been.

  I sighed, lost in the memory, wishing this nightmare would end.

  Fire blazed to life across the room from me. My eyes cracked open. More of my surroundings became visible. Another doorway led into a darkened room off the common area, a curtain hid what I guessed was their version of a bathroom, and more herbs hung from the rafters about twelve feet overhead. Furs were piled in one corner, tools and weapons in another.

  The hooded man disappeared into the other room.

  For a moment, I stared at the fire. It seemed too far away from me. I could stay right here and freeze to death, or crawl across the room to survive.

  I started crying and pushed myself up, hating the fact I thought of surviving when my heart and soul were dying within me. Batu had always told me to survive, no matter what. Did I do this for him or me? Because I hoped to see him again, somehow?

  It hadn’t worked with Taylor.

  My tears were fire on my cheeks. I crawled on all fours to the hearth and sat, staring at the flames and recalling the ger where I had lived with Batu for a short time. The fire began to warm me. When I could feel my fingers again, I fumbled with the drenched Mongol clothing. I started to remove it and stopped.

  It was all I had lef
t of my time with the Mongols. Of the home I had adopted and the people who had adopted me. Of Batu.

  I’d probably die of frostbite if I kept it on.

  After a moment, I removed it clumsily, not caring who saw me naked. The silver iPhone, which worked no matter what time I was in, clattered onto the wooden floor. I glared at it, shivered and pulled the furs Jorgensen had draped over me back over my body. I folded the wet Mongol clothing and set it beside the fire, not about to let it out of my sight, or anyone discard it the way Carter trashed my wish to stay with Batu.

  I couldn’t bring myself to throw the phone into the hearth. I wanted to keep it in case Carter miraculously found me a way home or back to Batu. It disturbed me beyond words to know that, if either of those things ever occurred, it was because I did what Carter told me to. I was at his mercy. Always.

  Hiding the phone within the layers of fur, I gazed into the fire once more, exhausted and frustrated.

  The hooded man returned. His face was hidden, and the exposed skin of his hands was scarred. I studied him. He was thin and walked upright without the shuffle or slow movement of the elderly. There was no other indication of his age.

  “You knew to look for me?” I asked. My voice was scratchy from throwing up.

  “Yes.”

  “How?” Thus far, everyone I met who had possessed advanced knowledge of any sort was a traveler.

  My empathic memory chip, the disastrous invention Carter implanted into my brain, no longer worked as intended. But it did give me an enhanced sense of intuition that alerted me when someone was a potential danger, and when someone was generally safe to be around.

  This person felt safe.

  “A vision,” the hooded man replied.

  “Vision,” I repeated. “Are you a traveler?”

  The hood turned towards me. “I have never left the village. But you are a traveler.”