Tomb of the Khan

  “I want to get inside these memories,” Owen said. “That’s the only thing I’ll believe.”

  Isaiah held out his hand. “I can offer you that. But that is a different device than the Animus.”

  Owen stared at the director for several moments, and then handed the ziplock bag over to him. “When?”

  “Tomorrow.” Isaiah slipped the evidence back into his own coat pocket. “It will take that long to extract the specific genetic memories you’re looking for.”

  Owen narrowed his eyes, but then nodded.

  Isaiah returned to the far side of his desk. “Perhaps after that, you will trust me.”

  “Not likely,” Owen said.

  “Sean and Grace,” Isaiah said, “would you take Owen back with you? See that he gets one of the rooms near you?”

  “Uh, sure,” Sean said, and Grace nodded.

  “Thank you. I’ll meet with the three of you in your lounge in the morning, after you’ve had a chance to get some sleep and eat breakfast.”

  Sean was a bit confused by Isaiah’s sudden casualness, and the way he was just letting Owen go free. But then it occurred to him that Owen wasn’t really free, after all. The director had exactly what he wanted, and Owen wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

  The next morning, Sean awoke, surprised that he had fallen asleep. The return to their rooms last night had been tense and silent, and he had lain in bed for quite a while, restless and uneasy. But now he got up, wheeled himself into the bathroom for a quick shower, and then dressed.

  In the lounge, he found Grace having a breakfast of coffee and a bagel, Owen sitting next to her, eating nothing.

  “What’s the matter?” Sean asked. “Afraid it’s poisoned?”

  “What’s your problem?” Owen said. “I’m just not hungry.”

  Sean shook his head. “Whatever.”

  “Look around you,” Owen said. “David and Natalya are gone. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

  “It tells me David and Natalya made a mistake,” Sean said, but he looked over at Grace, worried about how she might be feeling.

  She had stopped eating, but otherwise, her face remained impassive.

  Sean turned back to Owen. “You think you have things figured out, but you don’t. The Templars aren’t what you think they are. The only thing you know is the simulation of New York. You’re thinking of Boss Tweed and Cudgel Cormac. But we’ve experienced something totally different here.”

  “Is that right?” Owen said.

  “Yes,” Grace said, “it is.”

  Owen didn’t reply, and then Isaiah walked in with Victoria. She looked tired, with red eyes and a smile that seemed to require effort.

  “Good morning,” Isaiah said. “After last night, I hope you were all able to get some rest.”

  “Is it ready?” Owen asked.

  “Of course,” Isaiah said. “I said it would be. I’ll take you to your simulation, now.”

  “What will we be doing?” Sean asked.

  “Given everything that has happened, Dr. Bibeau and I think that sticking with the routine might be helpful to you. So if you would like, you may return to your own simulations. But we certainly don’t expect you to.”

  “I’d like to,” Sean said.

  “Very well.” Victoria turned to Grace. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m still thinking about it.”

  “That’s fine, take your time.” Victoria motioned for Sean. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Sean nodded and wheeled toward her, but as he passed Owen, he paused and spoke to him. “I’m not the bad guy, and I don’t think you’re the bad guy. I hope your simulation gives you what you’re looking for.”

  Owen seemed a bit taken aback, but Sean didn’t wait for a reply before rolling away, and not long after that, he was back in the Animus, in the memories of Styrbjörn, the events of the previous night in the Aerie now centuries distant from his mind.

  He now marched toward the site of the coming duel, having challenged Palnatoke, chieftain of the Jomsvikings, to single combat. Such a challenge could not be refused, and was not lightly made. But Styrbjörn knew he would be victorious, even if his sister feared he would not.

  She walked beside him, her head bowed with worry.

  “What if you should be killed?” she asked.

  “Palnatoke respects tradition,” Styrbjörn said. “He won’t try to kill me, and if I should lose, I will pay the ransom and we will depart. But Gyrid, I will not lose.”

  His words did not seem to appease her anxiety.

  When they reached the crossroads, where all such duels took place, Styrbjörn found a crowd had already gathered to witness it. The trenches had been carved, marking the square ring, and the four hazel posts had already been planted. He removed his fur, and after handing it to his sister, he stretched his arms and his back, preparing himself.

  Soon, men brought the duel cloak, nine feet square, and staked it to the ground within the hazel ring. Then Palnatoke appeared, attended by a dozen of his Jomsvikings, each of whom regarded Styrbjörn with open hatred. That was to be expected, and Styrbjörn studied their faces, so that he might remember them later.

  Then it was time for the duel to begin. Styrbjörn had his three shields at the ready, one of his men standing by as his second, and he stepped into the ring. Palnatoke did the same, and their combat began.

  Palnatoke struck first, his blade quick, landing hard on Styrbjörn’s wooden shield, breaking it in half. The blow staggered Styrbjörn, and rang the bones of his arm like a bell. But he threw away the remnants of wood and received a new shield from outside the ring, and this time, he was better prepared.

  Palnatoke lunged again, but Styrbjörn parried and counterstruck. Palnatoke dodged to the side, dropping low to slash at Styrbjörn’s leg, but the strike missed, and then the two men were back on their feet.

  Styrbjörn was not as accustomed to this type of ceremonial combat. It was slow, and methodical, and too close. He preferred the open battlefield, with its mud and blood and chaos, but he engaged in this ancient ritual because he had to. If he had simply killed Palnatoke, the Jomsvikings would never have followed him.

  Styrbjörn lunged with a roar, and this time, it was Palnatoke’s shield that broke, hanging from his arm in pieces. Sean felt the rush of adrenaline and rage that fueled his ancestor as combat ceased; the shield was replaced and then fighting began again.

  Strike, parry, dodge.

  Strike, shield, parry.

  Their combat continued, and soon Styrbjörn had broken his second shield, and then his third, leaving him only with his sword for defense. Normally, this would mean a quick end to the duel, but Styrbjörn had always been a skilled swordsman.

  When Palnatoke overconfidently charged him, Styrbjörn launched himself powerfully into the air, his feet at the height of Palnatoke’s shoulders, and came down with his blade ready, slicing the chieftain’s ear.

  Blood fell from the wound and dripped onto the cloak beneath their feet, and by that red sigil, the duel was declared at an end.

  Not a single person in the crowd cheered as both men left the ring, Palnatoke clutching a bloody rag to the side of his head, Styrbjörn cradling his battered arm.

  “The Jomsvikings are yours to command,” the chieftain said, breathing hard. “Where would you order us? Sweden? To fight your uncle?”

  “No,” Styrbjörn said as Gyrid came to his side.

  “No?”

  He took back his fur cloak and pulled it over his shoulders, while Sean relished the victory. “First we go to fight the Danes,” Styrbjörn said, “for I would have the fleet of that Christian, Harald Bluetooth.”

  Natalya ate a granola bar for breakfast, and then took her place in the Animus chair. It was nearly identical to the one she’d been using at the Aerie, though not quite as comfortable. Griffin hooked her up to all the wires and connectors, and she closed her eyes.

  “I hate this part.??
?

  “What part?” he asked.

  “Going in.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The Parietal Suppressor.”

  “Oh.” He stepped away toward his computer console. “We’re not using that.”

  “We’re not?”

  “No. And you’ll be in the chair, so you might find this simulation a bit less robust. It’ll be easier to desynchronize, if you’re not careful.”

  “Got it.” Natalya sighed, glad to be free of that discomfort, at least.

  “Now,” Griffin said, working the controls, “we know the date of Möngke Khan’s death. How far out from that should I start you?”

  “They had a lot of ground to cover,” Natalya said. “Asutai marched them thirty to forty miles a day, so … a month? Five weeks?”

  “We’ll start at four weeks, and then if we need to jump ahead, we can. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s do this.”

  A few moments later, Natalya lay inside the envelope of black silence, and then Griffin’s voice sounded in her ear.

  I’m ready with the Memory Corridor whenever you are.

  “I’m ready,” Natalya said.

  Okay. Here we go in three, two, one …

  Blinding light shattered the darkness, but this time, it didn’t feel like it broke through Natalya’s skull, and a moment later she was standing in the void. Griffin was right, this didn’t feel quite as real as the simulation with the Parietal Suppressor. There was a part of Natalya’s mind that definitely knew she was still lying in the Animus chair in the basement of an old crappy house, and that part of her mind kept her from readily accepting the simulation.

  I’ve got you all loaded up. One month out from the Khan’s death.

  “Okay.”

  The Memory Corridor blew apart, but again without her brain scrambling, and Natalya found herself astride a horse, moving along with a column of mounted Kheshig warriors, the wagon bearing the Great Khan’s body in their midst. Natalya nearly lost her balance and fell from her saddle, and the simulation blurred.

  Whoa, you okay?

  “Yeah, I just …” Natalya calmed her thoughts. “I need to get my bearings.”

  This is going to be more like it was with Monroe’s Animus.

  Natalya was realizing that. It wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to relinquish the stage of her mind to Bayan, as she had with Adelina, allowing him to right himself on his horse, sharing in his thoughts and memories.

  Their small army moved north through the valley of the Black River, the air here blessedly cool and dry, the bright sky wide and open. Rice fields grew once more where engineers had altered the river’s course, flooding the plains. Farmers with mud up to their knees watched in silence as the Mongol procession passed them, banners waving, war horns blaring. Chen Lun, that Tangghut conscript, had come from this region, and while it wasn’t the same as Bayan’s steppes, it felt much closer to home than the accursed valleys of the Song.

  His shoulder and side had slowly healed, though they still gave him some pain, and he sometimes wondered about the Song warrior who’d defeated him. He was not so blinded by hatred that he couldn’t admire her strength and skill, and with his awareness of the Sky-Father’s displeasure, a part of him had begun to hope she had survived, and he sometimes even regretted the injury he had given her.

  “Bayan!” Asutai waved him forward to join him at the head of their column.

  He spurred his horse to catch up to the young prince, bowing his head as he approached. “My lord?”

  “We approach the city of Iryai.” He wore his ornately gilded armor, his helmet glinting in the sun. “I would have you by my side.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Bayan did not yet understand why the Khan’s son granted him such favor and attention, but he accepted it with the necessary humility.

  “Ride ahead with me.” Asutai urged his horse forward at a trot, and Bayan followed him, until they had put some distance between themselves and the main column, the advance archers and warriors still a dozen yards ahead. “Eighteen years ago, Genghis Khan’s great general Subutai won a battle against the Kingdom of Poland.”

  Bayan nodded.

  “Among the prisoners taken at Legnica was a young soldier who belonged to an Order called the Templars.”

  “A warrior society?” Bayan asked.

  “Not solely a warrior society,” Asutai said. “Our purpose and ambition transcend our military achievements. War is simply a very effective tool.”

  The prince had just named himself a member of this Templar Order, but Bayan refrained from commenting on that, allowing Asutai to continue.

  “My father became a member of the Order before me. It is how he came to power, defeating and suppressing the treacherous heirs of my grandfather’s brother, Ögedei. Now I take my father’s place as a Templar, though not on the throne.”

  “What is the purpose of this Order?” Bayan asked.

  Asutai nodded toward the valley ahead, where a city had come into view. “Iryai. The former capital of the Xi Xia Empire.”

  Bayan watched as the Kheshig column drew closer, remnants of the city’s destruction still visible. Even after thirty years, lengthy sections of its walls had still not been rebuilt, and the burnt-out husks of its pagodas stood as blackened reminders of the consequence for betrayal.

  Bayan had been a boy at the time, but he had heard the stories. The Horde had nothinged the city and slaughtered its inhabitants, here and throughout the countryside, nearly eradicating the Tangghut people. But the ruined city was no longer empty. The fields around it grew rice again. For now, tranquility reigned.

  “We bring peace,” Asutai said. “We bring order out of the chaos, with our government, our currency, our roads. We ensure tolerance among those who worship different gods, and our courts bring iron justice.”

  Bayan nodded, and behind his mind, Natalya felt horrified again. This Mongol prince discussed the murder of millions as though it was both necessary and justified. This was the world of the Templar Order, this city reduced to nothing, only returning to life decades later.

  “Why do you tell me this?” Bayan asked.

  “I would like you to join with us,” Asutai said. “Most of the Kheshig are Templars, though not all of them. And as I said before, we need men like you.”

  Bayan hesitated, and in that moment, Natalya found the moral center in him. When Bayan had believed that divine will governed the conquests of the Horde, he had felt right with the killing, death, and renewal. But now that he had learned an Order of men controlled all these wars, he felt as though he’d been thrown from his saddle.

  “You honor me,” Bayan said. “Will you allow me to take time to consider this?”

  “Of course,” Asutai said. “I will ask you again when we reach Burkhan Khaldun.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Bayan fell back, his head bowed, and rejoined the main body of the army. The column proceeded past Iryai, more the ghost of a city than a city itself. When Bayan looked at it now, he no longer saw the Sky-Father’s retribution.

  He saw only death.

  I think we can jump you ahead, Griffin said.

  Natalya agreed.

  I’ll bring you out into the Memory Corridor first, to make the transition easier.

  “Thanks.”

  The road, the wagon with the Khan’s body, and the column of warriors dissolved as if an impenetrable mist had rolled over the road, taking her horse with it, and then Natalya found herself standing on nothing.

  Let’s try five weeks out. They’re still seven hundred miles from Burkhan Khaldun.

  “Make it six,” Natalya said.

  You’re the boss. Give me a second to recalibrate.

  Natalya waited, growing anxious. It was very possible that in the next simulation she would learn the location of the Piece of Eden. That was exactly the point of all this, but the mission had become a kind of Doomsday Clock to her, first with Isaiah,
and now with Griffin, counting down to the end of the world. Like Monroe, she didn’t want either of them to have the prong. Both factions brought only death and destruction in their wake. But she wasn’t sure how to prevent one of them from finding it.

  We’re ready.

  Natalya sighed. “Okay.”

  The Memory Corridor blew apart, and the world came back together on another road. It was easier this time for Natalya to step back into the wings, allowing Bayan control. Through his eyes, she recognized the sacred mountains that had sheltered Genghis Khan when he was still called Temüjin, the peak of the Burkhan Khaldun rising, snow-covered, in the distance.

  The funeral of Möngke Khan had begun days before, and now the small procession of his closest family members and selected Kheshig marched his body to its tomb in the mountain, bringing with it vast quantities of gold and silks and gemstones. The roads before them remained deserted, for the people feared that if they should chance to see the burial, they would be put to death, as had been done to any witness of the burial of Genghis Khan.

  Bayan rode behind Asutai, who led the Kheshig up into the hills, behind his uncles, and eventually they broke from the roads and proceeded overland, following the river north along the valley floor. The pine trees here smelled of spice and oranges, and the green pastures and fields beckoned them inward through these sacred lands, the Burkhan Khaldun looming larger and larger.

  Natalya felt a grim inevitability at her back, as mile after mile passed under the hooves of Bayan’s horse. The dagger was with the Khan, along with several sets of armor, swords, and bows, and soon they would arrive at the tomb. She would witness the resting place of the Piece of Eden.

  I think we’re coming up on the moment of truth, Griffin said.

  So he could sense it, too. Natalya said nothing.

  You ready for this?

  “Does it matter?”

  That sounds like a no.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  You didn’t say yes.

  “I’m just trying to get through this and be done with it.”

  Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it.

  The Kheshig warriors reached a small valley at the base of the mountain, through which a river flowed. The gentle hills surrounding them had shaped this place into a shelter close to the gods. The column crossed the water at a shallow ford, and then started up the slope in reverent silence. Bayan looked up, toward the place to which they marched, and saw a natural formation of rocks in the shape of an ox’s horn, and he knew with surety that was the site of the Great Khan’s tomb.