Victoria seemed quite distracted when she came in, with tired, red eyes. “Okay … Natalya,” she said, as if reminding herself of something. She stared at her tablet for a moment. “Where were we? Oh, right. Okay.”
“Is everything all right?” Natalya asked.
“Of course,” Victoria said. “Are you ready to enter the simulation?”
“Sure.” Natalya stepped into the ring and climbed into the harness. Victoria went about hooking her up, and the woman’s distractedness only added to Natalya’s unease. She decided to test the water a little bit. “Have you found Owen and Javier?” she asked.
Victoria stopped moving. She looked at Natalya. “Why do you ask about them?”
The mood in the room shifted, and it felt to Natalya as it did when Bayan crossed onto enemy ground. It seemed she’d made a mistake. “I was just wondering. I worry about them.”
Victoria closed her eyes and nodded. “I worry about them, too. I know about the Assassins.” She resumed connecting Natalya to the Animus. “Believe it or not, there was once a time I even assisted them, though I never became one. The Templars still gave me another chance and showed me a better way. We’ll help your friends, too. But right now, we must concentrate on the mission at hand.” She crossed to the controls.
“Okay,” Natalya said, glad to step back from the subject, at least for now.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get your helmet on.”
Bayan stood at the edge of the encampment, mourning the loss of Wang Dechen. The morale of the Horde had fallen in the days since the death of their general. All wondered what it meant, as even the Great Khan had become sullen and withdrawn to his tent where it was said he mostly slept.
The night assault on the gate had been flawlessly executed, given what had been known of Fishing Town. Thus far, no Song force had left the safety of the fortress to engage them directly, and yet this time, enemies had appeared out of the forest like spirits. That meant a secret entrance existed somewhere, a cave perhaps. There could be no other explanation, and Bayan decided he had to find it.
He went to the commander of his Mingghan, explained his theory, and requested permission to scout around the wall that night, which was then granted. Bayan spent the rest of that day resting and preparing. He had been up the entire night previous, and would be up again tonight. He thought about taking one or two of his men, but decided he would be more likely to escape detection alone.
After the sun had fallen and pulled the train of its sunset robes with it, Bayan put on his armor and took up his sword and bow. He said a prayer to the Sky-Father and left the encampment behind, but did not feel truly endangered until he stepped out from behind the safety of the bulwarks to the northwest, near the mountain. The forest offered him shadows and cover, through which he crept as silently as he could, returning to the Hu Guo Gate. His movement through the underbrush stirred mosquitoes that attacked his fingers, ears, and neck as bravely as any warriors of the steppes.
When he reached the battleground, he found it still smelled of scorch, the fallen trees reduced to black charcoal. The scent of it scattered the insects, offering relief from their stings, and Bayan took in the land before him with greater calm and calculation than he had brought to bear during the assault.
The stone arch of the gate looked down on the steep mountain slope, the steps and walls rising nearly fifty feet. Torches burned along the top of the wall, and Bayan observed the watchmen for some time, so certain of their defenses, so arrogant in their defiance. His anger at them turned to hatred over the death of Wang Dechen, but Natalya knew the deeper reason for Bayan’s animosity. The Song had caused him to doubt.
Bayan retraced his movements from that night as best he could, heading west into the forest. Memories of that night rose up like mist from the ground. The sounds of combat, the smell of blood. Bayan’s body responded to it all as if it were happening again, his blood raging in his ears.
He found the spot where he had fought the soldier missing his ear. The one who had nearly killed him, and likely would have without the distraction of the artillery fire. The body was gone, of course. But Bayan stood where it had lain, and he peered off into the trees around him. This would be the point from which to begin searching for the entrance to the secret cave. In his silence, he detected the gentle trickle of a stream some distance on, which had to be falling from above. It was possible the water came from a cave, and thus presented a possible location for the passage.
Bayan moved toward it, crouching down now, keeping close to the tree trunks, for if there was a secret entrance, it was likely guarded, and the discovery of it would do no good if Bayan was captured before he could report it.
The water sounds grew louder, getting closer, but then he heard a different sound over the top of the rill. A little splash, and the light patter of footsteps.
Bayan went almost all the way to ground, lying in the darkness. He didn’t see exactly where the enemy came from, but he did see her moving away through the forest, down the hill, dressed all in black. She didn’t seem to have noticed him, and he decided to abandon his search for the passage in favor of capturing her. Under torture, a Song scout would have much to reveal.
Bayan rushed after her, but it proved impossible to keep up. She flew along the terrain as though it knew her as well as she knew it, and it welcomed her, while it treated Bayan as the enemy. The mountain tripped him, mired him, whipped him, and stung him, until he lost the scout completely.
His failure represented everything wrong with this campaign to begin with. Bayan knew with absolute certainty that if this chase had taken place on the open steppes, the scout would already be bound over his horse. But here in this foreign land, beset with plague and heat, the Horde had failed to capture this elusive fortress.
Bayan returned to the mission that had brought him to the mountain. Perhaps he could locate the passage. He found his way back to the place he had been when the scout appeared, and began his search, following the sound of the stream.
He eventually found its source, but that did not help him. The water gurgled from a small crack in the rock wide enough for a rodent, and nothing more. Bayan cursed and stooped to drink, and found the water sweet and cold. Another reason the taking of Fishing Town had proved so difficult. If the Song could afford to let all this water run down the mountain, that meant they had more than enough for themselves within their walls. A few weeks ago they had likewise dropped two enormous fish down the hill, freshly caught, along with a hundred steamed buns, to demonstrate their food reserves.
Bayan took another drink, wet the back of his neck, and then returned to his exploration. The scout had confirmed there had to be an entrance somewhere nearby. He swept back and forth along the slope, up and down, methodically, but after two hours, found no cave entrance.
At last, he decided that the best way to find it might be to wait for the scout to return, so he found a tall tree, located near the spring and the place he thought likeliest, and he climbed up into its branches, where he settled and watched.
Natalya was glad for the reprieve, glad the scout had escaped Bayan before, and hoped she would again. From the way the woman had moved, Natalya assumed she was an Assassin, perhaps even on her way to kill the Khan. Killing to stop the killing. It was like the Ouroboros to her, the snake eating its own tail.
Bayan’s mind saw things very differently. He looked up at the sky overhead, and the earth beneath him, and believed that heaven had sent them to this country to deliver the punishment of the gods. If the Song would have simply submitted, they would have been spared.
Movement below caught Bayan’s eye.
The scout had returned.
Her movements were now much more frantic. He could hear her grunting and breathing as she passed beneath him.
Bayan realized she might soon be lost in the trees again, taking with her the location of the passage, but it also seemed unlikely he could capture her a
live. He didn’t have to kill her instantly. He could wound her, and then make her talk. She might scream, which would draw attention from the wall, but he would be quick.
He nocked an arrow and drew his bow, the horn and wood and sinew flexing as he aimed for her thigh. Natalya wanted to scream a warning, but Bayan released the string, and with a snap, the arrow flew and struck its mark. She went down without a sound.
Bayan scrambled from his perch and raced toward her, his sword drawn. When he reached her, she was somehow already on her feet, a knife in one hand, a small crossbow mounted to the opposite wrist, but he figured she had no bolts, or she would have already shot him.
His own arrow had missed her thigh, but impaled her knee instead. The pain had to be excruciating, but she growled and stared at him with eyes much like the Song warrior he had fought the other night.
“Where is the passage?” he asked in the Song language.
She spat and tried to move into a defensive stance, but she stumbled, and Bayan could see she was completely hobbled. He also noted that the knife in her hand was actually mounted to her wrist, like her crossbow.
“If you tell me,” he said, “I’ll kill you quickly. You don’t need to suffer.”
She retreated a few paces, the blood from her knee a heavy flow down her leg. It wouldn’t do him any good if she passed out from it.
He stepped toward her. “Be at peace. Your work is done. The time of defending your city is over. The Sky-Father brought you to me.”
She blinked and shook her head.
He would have to do more injury to her, the thought of which horrified Natalya, but she could do nothing as Bayan circled to the Assassin’s right. She shifted her weight, grimacing as she rotated to face him, while he took his time, planning his attack, watching that wrist-blade. She was injured, but possibly still very dangerous. He wondered why she hadn’t called for help.
When he lunged, something slammed his right shoulder, and then an explosive pain shot through his arm, causing him to drop his sword as he stumbled forward. The scout lowered her crossbow as he collided with her, and he realized she’d kept her last bolt hidden. Before he could recover his footing, she stabbed him in the side.
He snarled through the pain and kicked the arrow protruding from her knee. The head snapped off, and she screamed, falling away from him.
He backed away, too. He didn’t think her wrist-blade had made a fatal thrust, but the bolt sticking out of his shoulder was clearly poisoned, and he’d lost the use of his arm. He had to retreat, now, while he was still conscious.
He turned and stumbled down the mountain, finding it hard to keep his balance. The wound in his side robbed him of breath, and the dead weight of his arm dragged him downward. Several yards on, a dizziness set in, and he fell forward in a hard roll. The impact drove the bolt deeper into his shoulder, but it didn’t hurt as badly as it should have. He slid, staggered, and fell the rest of the way, until he reached the base of the mountain.
From there, he lurched forward and eventually ended up in a crawl toward the bulwarks an impossible distance away. Natalya felt it all, at a remove, and through the torture of it, she finally admitted some admiration for Bayan. His will and determination carried him over the rocks and mud until he reached the Mongol line.
Friendly warriors ran toward him, shouting, and he rolled onto his back, at last allowing himself to either die or fall unconscious, whichever destiny the Sky-Father had apportioned him.
“Is he dead?” Natalya asked, feeling as though even her thoughts were out of breath.
He can’t be dead, Victoria said. He lived to pass on this memory. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to experience it.
“Right,” Natalya said. She’d forgotten about that.
He is unconscious, but we know he will live.
“That was …”
Terrible. How are you doing?
“I’m not sure,” Natalya said. “Not good.”
Do you want to come out?
Natalya thought about it, but now that the fight was over, she was actually curious to see what would become of Bayan. She wasn’t worried, exactly, but she felt involved, and the gray void of his unconsciousness gave her some breathing room to recover.
“I’ll stay,” she said.
Very well, Victoria said. If you’re sure you’re ready to go on, I’ll speed up the simulation a bit.
Natalya sighed and let herself drift, appreciating the formlessness that enveloped her. She knew that time was relative in the Animus, and she wouldn’t be here for long, but she took advantage of what she could, thinking about everything that had just happened.
As strong as Bayan had been, that Assassin had perhaps been stronger. She’d beaten Bayan in a fight with an arrow through her knee. Natalya could only guess at what it would take to drive someone that far. She wondered if the Assassin had made it back into the city.
I’m seeing memory activity, Victoria said.
The void took on half-made shapes that faded in and out of view; faces, fire, the ribs of a ger, the mask of a shaman all passed across the stage of her mind. Natalya knew right away that Bayan was being attended to, only partially aware of what was happening to him. When he finally came fully to, the Great Khan’s teenage son stood over his bed in his robes of silk and gold, holding a short crossbow bolt.
Bayan tried to get up, a white storm of pain in his eyes. His side ached and throbbed, but that discomfort was nothing compared his shoulder, which felt as though someone had rammed a burning stick deep into the wound.
“Be still,” Asutai said. “You will open your wounds.”
Bayan paused, then relented and laid back down, breathing hard, mostly averting his eyes from the young prince.
“They pulled this from you,” Asutai said, rolling the bolt between his fingers.
“I was careless,” Bayan said, his voice the sound of a woman scraping a new hide. “She hid it well.”
“You fought her?”
Bayan nodded. “But she’ll never fight again. I shot her through the knee.”
“You did more than any other warrior.” Asutai tapped the bolt against his palm. “My father is dead.”
Bayan lifted his head. “What?”
“The woman you fought assassinated him while he slept.”
“How … ?” How could that be? he wondered. The Great Khan was dead? Had the Sky-Father abandoned them completely, here in this accursed place?
“Not many know,” Asutai continued. “With the death of Wang Dechen, the other generals fear it would be too much for the Horde’s morale.”
Bayan pushed his own doubts aside for the moment to deal with what needed to be done. “How will you keep it a secret?”
“We’ve let it be known that he is sick with the fever. In several days, we will report that he has died from it.”
That plan made sense. The Khan’s death would go hard with the Horde regardless, but harder still if it was a Song assassination. A fever could be accounted for fairly innocently, but a death at the enemy’s hands, during a siege, in the middle of his own tent, meant the Great Khan and his entire rule had been overturned.
“Tomorrow,” Asutai said, “we will raise the watchtower he’d planned, as though the battle will continue.”
“But will it?”
Asutai sighed. “No. When word reaches my uncles, there will be a struggle for power. Possibly even war amongst the Great Khan’s three brothers. Hulagu will likely support Kublai against Ariq Boke. The Hordes will be summoned.”
Bayan nodded, but felt something amiss. “Why do you tell me this, my lord?”
The prince was silent a moment, and then held up the crossbow bolt. “Every other warrior struck by one of these has died.”
“I … am sad to hear it.”
“I have been learning about you. Your heroics in past battles. Your actions at the Hu Guo Gate with Wang Dechen. Your attempt to locate a secret passage, after which you fought the assassin and then dragged yourself hal
f-dead for miles to reach the camp.”
Bayan frowned. “I failed to kill her, or find the passage, my lord.”
Asutai slipped the crossbow bolt into a pouch at his waist. “That doesn’t matter to me. I have seen what I need to see.”
“My lord?”
“I will name you one of the Kheshig. You will join my personal guard.”
Bayan’s eyes widened. “You honor me, my lord. Greatly. But I am wounded—”
“They tell me you will heal. And I have need of men like you. After we announce my father’s death, his body will be prepared, and then I will escort him to Burkhan Khaldun, to be buried alongside Genghis Khan and his ancestors. You will accompany me.”
In his state of pain and exhaustion, Bayan could not fully comprehend this offer, nor did he know how to reply to it. But he nodded his head slowly, trying to effect a bow, and simply said, “It is more than I deserve.”
“The Khans reward merit,” Asutai said, turning to leave. “And you have shown it. I know I can rely on you. Now, you must rest.”
With that, the prince was gone, and Bayan’s mind fell, reeling, into sleep.
Sean made his way to his Animus room, excited to find out where he would be going that day. The experience in Ireland had been difficult for him. Maybe even a bit traumatic. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, worried the Aerie was burning down, and he still wanted to know what happened to Brandon and his family.
But Victoria and Isaiah had reminded him that those memories had all happened in the past, hundreds of years ago. They couldn’t be changed. The only thing that could be changed was the future, and what kind of future did Sean want?
A future where violent rioters and chaos ruled? Where innocents suffered?
Or a world of peace and order?
Sean didn’t even have to think about the answer to that question.