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.
History Interrupted series:
West
East (April 2015)
North (TBD)
South (TBD)