“With no guards?”
“No, Khan.”
Bhatu forgot his meal momentarily. A man who would ride into the camp alone drew his interest. He signaled for the emissary to be allowed in. The man who came through the entrance was richly dressed, cloaked in robes sewn with gold. A thin band of silver encircled the crown of his head, a large gem set in the center. He carried a staff shaped like a tall narrow cross, the gold encrusted with jewels. How could he have gotten through the Mongol lines without being killed and robbed? Bhatu wondered.
The man bowed slightly at the waist. “Greetings, Great Bhatu Khan, Emperor of the East.”
The man spoke Mongol, another surprise to Bhatu. “Soon to be Emperor of the West,” he said as he took a piece of meat off his plate and threw it to one of the dogs that lay nearby.
“It is that issue that brings me here.”
“Whom do you represent?”
“The Priory, great lord.”
Bhatu stood. “Out!” he bellowed, sending lackeys and officers scurrying from his tent. “Everyone out!”
When the tent was empty of sycophants, Bhatu sat back down. “What are you called?”
“I am Hieronnymous, lord. You have traveled a long way from your home.”
“I travel where I wish and kill whom I please.”
“There are whispered rumors that you seek my people,” Hieronnymous said. “Why is that?”
“My grandfather ordered me to find you. He said your people had great wealth and power.”
Hieronnymous nodded. “That is true.”
“Your people sent the army I just defeated against me, didn’t they?”
Hieronnymous smiled. “You could not expect us to surrender easily, could you, Great Bhatu Khan?”
“Then I have dealt with your power,” Bhatu said.
Hieronnymous’s fingers curled over the top of the staff, the knuckles white. “Perhaps you could be persuaded in a more civil manner to not cross the river?”
“ ‘Persuaded’?” Bhatu leaned forward, his elbow covering the airhole.
“As you’ve noted, the Priory has great wealth. We would be willing to share it with you.”
“Why don’t I just take it now that your army has been destroyed?”
“Our wealth is well hidden. You might find some after much time and trouble, but not as much as we are willing to share freely. And, as you’ve also noted, we have influence with all the kingdoms on the other side of the river. You destroyed a great army, but there are other armies. There is much land and many more kingdoms to the west of here. We could have the pope in Rome raise a crusade against your forces. He is already considering it, as he shakes in fear inside the Vatican.”
Khan’s spies had already warned him of that. They had given him detailed reports of the crusades the Christians had sent against the Islamic empires in the Middle East year after year. It was not the sort of war he wished to get involved in, especially as he was very far from home. His goal was not to conquer land but to gain riches. He had no plans to hold the lands he had ridden through.
“What do you offer me?”
Hieronnymous pulled a piece of rolled parchment from inside his cloak and slid it onto the top of the crate. The faint pounding of the suffocating princes could be heard, but both men ignored it.
Bhatu unrolled the parchment and read. The amount of gold and silver listed astounded even him, who ruled from the Pacific and across Asia. “You can bring me this?”
“Yes. In one week’s time, all that can be yours. But only if you agree not to cross the river. I have been told a Khan’s word is his bond.”
Bhatu leaned back in his splendid chair, letting air into the box once more. He ran a finger along the edge of a gold-encrusted dagger as he considered the offer. He was far from home and his men had been fighting all their lives. It was what they lived for, but even a Mongol needed rest. And he had received reports of rebellions in China and- His eyes narrowed.
“Your people are stirring up revolt in my kingdom, aren’t they?”
Hieronnymous spread his hands in a sign of innocence. “Lord, we-”
Bhatu slammed the point of the dagger into the top of the box. “My word is my bond. But I must have the truth from you in turn or I cannot trust you. Those I do not trust die before me.”
“We have a long reach, great Bhatu Khan, but I did not think it would be respectful to inform you of that.”
“A long enough reach to stir up revolt in my kingdom?”
“Yes, lord.” Hieronnymous took a step closer. “Your grandfather, the Great Genghis Khan, was lied to. We are not your enemy. We only caused trouble in your kingdom after you began your march in this direction. Before that, there was no influence from us. We have no desire to fight you.”
Bhatu’s generals had already begun talking in council about turning back. Great victories had been won, but they were realists. Much of winning battles was skill, which the Horde had in abundance, but there was also an element of luck, and there was fear theirs might be running out.
“One week,” Khan said. “If this is not delivered”-he tapped the parchment-“I will lead my men across the river.”
“Agreed.”
“And you will stop supporting the rebels in China.”
“Agreed.”
“You will give me the names and locations of all the rebels you have supported and those in my kingdom you have suborned.”
Hieronnymous nodded. “As long as you give your word not to march on us again.”
Bhatu had never really understood his grandfather’s obsession with uncovering and destroying this Priory. He had agreed to do it as a respectful grandchild would, but that was years ago and thousands of miles to the east. What this man offered would allow him to run his kingdom for the rest of his days.
Bhatu Khan pressed his palm over the hole, the sounds from inside the box growing fainter. He looked at the man on the other side. “If you give me more wealth, I will destroy the strange ones in the high mountains that my grandfather told me about.”
“We heard that they sent your grandfather after us. We knew that he or his descendants would eventually come this way. They are our old enemies. If you could destroy them, we would indeed bestow great riches upon you. But, unfortunately, you cannot fight them. You, like us, are of the earth. They are not. You might consider them people of the sky. To fight them would be like trying to kill a cloud.” “These strange ones in the high mountains-who are they?”
Hieronnymous leaned on the gold cross, appearing weary for the first time. “You would not understand if I tried to explain what they are. We were once one people, many, many years ago. But we have been apart so long…” Hieronnymous fell silent for a moment before continuing. “They cannot fight us with swords and we cannot fight them in the way they are. So they use others with swords against us. One day, though, we will have the means, through others as they do, to fight them. And when that day comes, we will destroy them.”
Khan smiled. “Or perhaps they will destroy you first.”
“Perhaps,” Hieronnymous acknowledged, “but it will be a wonderful battle that will cover the entire world.”
The Present
1
Sergeant Major Jimmy Dalton stood astride the Continental Divide, just south of Rollins Pass, with a wooden box containing his wife’s ashes in his backpack. Far to the east, through the mountains and hills he had just driven up, he could just barely see the high plains of eastern Colorado, a brown and golden flat haze fifty miles away. To the west, more white-capped mountains stretched as far as the eye could reach.
He was a solidly built man, as sturdy as the pines below that took the brunt of the wind coming off the high peaks. His face was weathered and his short, dark hair liberally sprinkled with gray. He wore camouflage fatigues, a Special Forces patch on each shoulder, the left indicating current assignment to a Special Forces Group, the right combat service in the past with the same unit.