In early summer, after a trip to the village to trade with the merchants traveling through the area, I returned to my home. Sigrid and Gerd had finished with the farm chores for the day and were presumably inside. I walked around the house to the rear entrance and stopped.

Asvald was standing at the bottom of a tree, looking up. I didn’t have to follow his gaze to know he’d been dragged into one of Freydis’s adventures. The mystic stood waiting patiently. Branches rustled midway up the tree.

I’d given up trying to keep my daughter out of trees. It was impossible. At this point, all I could do was pray to any god willing to listen that she never fell.

Shaking my head, I entered the house on the backside, which led to the sleeping areas of the household members, and walked into my room. I’d have to bribe Freydis down from the tree again but had the perfect offering: a small, silver dagger, for which I’d traded a bushel of grain.

Ulf sat on my bed, one of his favorite hangouts, un-supervised. He was viewed by the caretakers of the family to be the good kid. Quiet and perceptive, he rarely acknowledged anyone aside from Freydis, Asvald, Kolfinna, and me, or anyone who got in his way when he was trying to do something.

His back was to me, and he appeared focused.

“Did you make something?” I asked and dropped my satchel of treasures on a trunk Bjorn had made me.

Ulf said nothing. Shifting to stand beside the bed, my eyes fell to his newest project.

The air left my lungs. My knees felt weak and tunnel vision formed. Temporal displacement, long since absent from my life, returned, along with the thought of the one person I never wanted to think about again. Fighting off the spell, I sucked in deep breaths until I was no longer in danger of passing out.

“Where … where did you get that?” I managed.

Ulf lifted his eyes from the cell phone he had disassembled. He smiled. “Uncle Asvald,” he replied. “It was in his trunk at the bottom.”

Asvald. My initial concern, that he knew too much to be a man of this era, was overshadowed by an even graver worry.

It had been six years.

Actually, it had been over seven, by my count.

“How did you know it was there?” I asked with calm I didn’t remotely feel.

“I saw it. But it was too far at the bottom. Freydis took Uncle Asvald to the trees.”

Only my son would go to this extent to soothe his curiosity.

“I need you to put that back together and return it to where you found it,” I replied. “Before Uncle Asvald finds out.”

Ulf’s large blue eyes lingered on my face. “Did I do bad?” he asked.

“No, love. Just … put it back where you found it. Please.”

I had arrived in spring, seven years ago, and it was summer now.

Did that mean Carter was going to leave me here after all? Hope sprang up inside me. From what I knew of him, Carter had never failed to follow through with what he intended, and here I was, over a year past the expiration date of this adventure.

My eyes fell to the phone. Carter used the device to track me through time, along with the historical record. He’d lost me before in the Mongol Empire.

Was this delay more likely tied to the fact I’d destroyed the phone he gave me? Had Ulf triggered something in this phone that would alert or remind Carter?

Familiar fear and dread weighed down my gut. I could hope and pray all I wanted, but once Carter found me again, he’d follow through with his promise.

“Mama.” Ulf rested his hand on top of mine. “I am sorry.”

I forced a smile. “I’m not upset at you, sweetie,” I replied. “I might have to go away soon. But … I’m not sure.”

“Away?”

How did I explain time travel to a child, let alone one in this culture, which didn’t understand linear time? “To the moon,” I explained finally. “Very far.”

Ulf was never surprised by anything. “I will build a bridge and find you.”

This kid was all sorts of amazing. I laughed and hugged him.

The curtain to my bedroom parted.

“I finally got her out of …” Asvald drifted off. His eyes fell to Ulf’s project. He held a squirming Freydis under one arm.

“Ulf, Freydis, go find Kolfinna for a snack,” I told the twins.

Ulf was distracted by, and Freydis focused on, few things as much as food.

The two bounded out of the room, Freydis shouting for Kolfinna and Ulf running ahead of her.

Asvald didn’t look me in the eye. He went to the stool beside the fire and sat.

“You’ve been hiding this,” I said and motioned to the deconstructed phone. It wasn’t mine, that much I knew. Mine had been silver. This one was black.

“My vision told me where to find it in the forest,” he said in a quiet voice. “I was supposed to give it to you on your sixth year here. But I could not. I was afraid …”

The doubt I experienced when we first met, that he was planted here, robbed me of breath. I trusted no one more than Asvald.

He cleared his throat. “I was afraid you would leave. Ulf and Freydis need you,” he said hoarsely.

“You were afraid because your vision told you this,” I guessed.

He nodded.

“In the vision, how long after you gave this to me did I leave?”

“Two days.”

No, no, no! I looked at the dissected phone in horror. Chances were, he was supposed to hand off the phone. I’d turn it on, and Carter would find me once more. It was the only explanation. Carter used the phone and historical records to track me. I had hoped to deter him by destroying my original phone.

But he knew that. He always knew what I’d do, how I’d react, to whatever he did.

Had Ulf unwittingly activated the phone in any way? Had he pushed the buttons along the side or somehow triggered a burst of electricity when he took it apart?

“I have to destroy this,” I whispered. Desperately, with blurred eyes, I gathered all the pieces and threw them into the fire. “I can’t leave. I won’t leave.”

“I do not want you to,” Asvald said.

I was furious at him for hiding such a secret before recalling this was who he was. Not only that, but he couldn’t know the phone would alert the evil mastermind behind me being in this era to start off with.

Dropping to my knees, I started to cry. It was impossible to know if Carter had been tipped off until the next two days passed.

“Forgive me, Yosee,” Asvald whispered.

“It’s not … your fault,” I said and wiped my eyes. “The person who sent me here wants me to leave.”

“Odin?”

I hesitated. If ever there was someone I wanted to explain the truth to, it was Asvald. But I couldn’t. “Yes, Odin,” I replied. “I dreamt he would take me away after six years here. But Freydis, Ulf … they need me. I can’t leave them.”

“If Odin calls, you must go,” Asvald said, sounding distressed. “I will care for them, Yosee. Ivar will as well.”

“That’s my job!” I snapped and began crying harder. “I’m their mother.” I paused then asked the question I feared. “Do they stay or go with me?”

“They stay.”

I’d be destroyed if this all happened the way Asvald believed it would. But as long as the twins were safe, I didn’t care what Carter did to me. With luck, he’d leave my children here.

Asvald remained quiet, as if sensing there was nothing he could say. That he had chosen me over Odin and hidden the phone for a year spoke much of his loyalty and courage. But in the end, he would obey the vision he believed had come from Odin. Perhaps he would have waited until the children were grown, or maybe he would have acted sooner. I didn’t have any way of knowing.

Asvald intercepted the twins before they returned and took them to help with chores.

Curling up on the floor, I didn’t know how I was going to pass the next two days, fearing I was supposed to disappear. I sobbed until my head hurt and then rinsed my face.

If I had two days left with my twins, I wasn’t going to waste them feeling sorry for myself or imagining what horrors awaited me – or them – when I was gone.

I plastered a smile on my face and went to dinner as usual.

Only Asvald and Ulf seemed to sense I was off. Asvald glanced my way more often than usual, and Ulf sat in my lap the rest of the evening.

I didn’t sleep that night. I stayed awake and watched Ulf and Freydis slumber, surrounded by toys, both of them sprawled out on the deer-skin rug in front of the fire. Pieces of the phone reflected the firelight. I stared at the hearth, unable to process the idea of leaving. Thunder boomed, and lightning cracked outside. The rain didn’t penetrate the roof, but it tried.

The late spring storm fit my mood. I couldn’t help hoping I was struck by lightning, because it was a far kinder death than me vanishing. My children would never understand what happened to me, and I’d rather be dead than hauled off to some other time by the lunatic who destroyed my life.

* * *

The next morning, after dawn, we had a big community mid-morning breakfast in the kitchen before each of us went to tackle our chores. I watched Ulf and Freydis accompany Sigrid to the backyard, where she was going to attempt to keep an eye on both of them. My chest felt tight, my heart ready to explode.

“Asvald,” I said, turning to him. “Can you take my chores today?”

“Of course.”

“Ulf, Freydis!” I called. “We’re going to the village this morning!”

Both bolted to me, preferring the village to being supervised by Sigrid, who was by far the sternest of any of the adults in the house.

With Ulf holding one hand and Freydis tugging at the other, the three of us walked down the quiet road flanked by towering pine trees. The sky was blue this day, and droplets of rain left over from the storm glittered in the sun before dropping from pine needles onto the ground. It smelled fresh, new, perfect.

When we reached the edge of the village, I spotted a crowd near the small beach beside the four sturdy docks. Sensing drama, Freydis pulled away and ran toward the group. Ulf and I trailed her more slowly. I wasn’t interested in the daily fish catch and couldn’t really think about interacting with anyone other than my kids. I hadn’t brought anything to trade. I wanted to visit the best baker in the village, get us all treats, and then take a walk through the forest. If this was one of my last days here, I wanted my children to remember having fun before I left, not going to the fish market.

As we drew nearer, I realized this wasn’t the daily catch people were crowding around. They were whispering and pointing. Freydis pushed through the crowd and disappeared.

I hurried forward, in case they’d found a sea monster or shark and Freydis tried to murder it.

Reaching the group, I nudged through the villagers to reach my daughter.

Next to the village leader during the summer and an older woman, Freydis stood over the still form of a man who had washed up on the shore.

Not any man, but her father. Her real father.

My mouth dropped open, and my heart felt as if it dropped to my feet. I’d never forget Batu’s large frame or the arms that held me for weeks after we’d been married in the Mongol Empire. His hair had grown out and surrounded his head. Seaweed wound through it. He wore typical Mongol dress, which was causing a stir among the Vikings. He was breathing but unconscious.

The craving I often experienced when I thought of him – fed by love and sorrow – swept through me, along with a sense of impending doom.

It could be no coincidence that he appeared the day after Ulf took apart the phone.

The villagers were trying to understand what to do with the man with the strange features and dark skin, who didn’t resemble any kind of man they’d ever seen before. Was he an elf? A sprite?

“Take him to the mystic,” I voiced loudly. “He will contact the gods and ask what is to be done with this man.”

A murmur of approval went around the group. Eventually, once their intrigue and surprise wore off, they’d have made the same decision. My goal was to move Batu inside where I could monitor him and make sure he was healthy and then find out what the hell he was doing here. I couldn’t begin to tackle the idea of revealing the truth about the twins being his, not when I was starting to freak out once more about what his appearance meant for tomorrow.

The villagers dragged him into the back of a wagon. Ulf, who trailed, and Freydis, running all over the road and darting into the forest, were no competition this day. My focus was solely on Batu, on remembering how hard I’d cried when torn out of his life, on how happy I’d been in the steppes as his wife. I loved him. I would always love him. He would always be my soulmate.

But him showing up here, now … my despair was greater than my affection.

Two villagers helped drag him through the back door into the bedroom of Bjorn and Gerd. They left him there. Curious about the foreigner in his strange clothing, Freydis went through Batu’s pockets and explored the symbols on his clothing. Ulf appeared more interested in Batu’s hair and was braiding it.

Snapping out of my shock, I left to find Asvald and all but dragged him into the room.

“Was he in your vision?” I asked him.

Asvald nodded.

“Ulf, Freydis, go play outside for a while,” I told them.

The two left.

Asvald knelt beside Batu to assess him, while I stood over him, arms crossed and fearful.

“Is he well?” I ventured, afraid Asvald would say no. And more afraid he would say yes. The emotions stirred up inside me were too wild for me to determine which was strongest.

“He is,” Asvald said.

I released a breath.

“I will make broth.”

I barely heard him. Instead, I went to Batu’s side and brushed the hair from his features. My fear softened in the face of the one man who always made me feel safe, secure. He had kept his promise to find me, but I didn’t know if that was a good idea or not.

Batu’s eyelids fluttered open. He stared at the ceiling briefly before twisting his head to see me. He appeared exhausted, half drowned, and I recalled with some amusement that Mongols didn’t swim out of fear of offending Mother Earth, whose veins were the rivers and streams of the world. The fact he survived the fjord was a matter of sheer will on his part.

“Moonbeam,” he murmured. He rested a palm against my cheek, his dark gaze scouring my features. He smiled.

I melted. I’d missed his voice, his warmth, his strength. Tears stung my eyes. I’d needed him since I arrived to this era.

“Hi, Batu,” I whispered and clasped his hand in both of mine. “You went for a swim?”

He grunted. “I swallowed the sea.”

I laughed, unable to help it. I had never felt such conflicting emotions of joy and fear.

My Mongol warrior tried to sit.

“Stay,” I told him sternly and pushed him down. “You need to rest for a little while.”

Asvald entered with a bowl of broth and herbs. I shifted away. Batu glanced from me to the scarred mystic but didn’t launch off the bed to attack him, which I took as a good sign.

Batu propped himself up on one arm and sipped the broth.

Asvald touched the embroidered, knee-length tunic with curiosity.

“Do you remember where I told you I was from?” I asked the mystic.

“The land without a forest.”

“He is from there.”

Asvald studied me. “I know.”

Batu drank his broth and then settled into a restless sleep. Asvald left, and I remained, unable to look away from the face of the love of my life. I cried as much from what we had lost to what I had gained on my latest adventure.

When dusk fell, Freydis and Ulf ambushed me, carrying trenchers of food for both the stranger and me. Batu awoke at the sound of Ulf tripping and dropping everything in his arms on the ground.

Freydis made it to the bed and set her tray down.

“Do you have a sword?” my daughter asked.

Batu sat with effort. “I have many.”

“How many?”

“Freydis,” I chided. “He has had a rough day. He almost drowned.”

“I know how to swim,” Freydis informed Batu. “You do this.” She demonstrated how to swim several laps around the room, while Batu watched in amusement and Ulf tried to put everything back on the wooden plate as it had been originally.

I finally went to help him, certain Freydis’s swimming would keep Batu entertained.

Ulf smiled as I put the last of the cherries on the plate. He stood once more and went to the bed, placing the tray beside Freydis’s. He stepped back and stared at Batu, who stared back.

“This is Ulf and Freydis,” I said indicating each twin. “Kids, this is Batu.”

“Baaaatuuuu,” Freydis sang.

Ulf said nothing, as usual.

“You have kids?” Batu asked, startled.

“Are we speaking your language?” I asked, uncertain if he contained a language chip as well. He was a time traveler, after all.

“Yes,” he replied.

“They’re ours,” I told him with a smile. “I was pregnant when Carter forced me to leave you.”

Batu appeared as freaked out as I had when I accepted the fact I was pregnant. I laughed at his expression.

“Speaking of Carter,” I said carefully. “Did he send you or did the organization you used to work for?”

“Carter.” Batu had never lied to me, but I wished he would.

“Why?”

“Does he know about this?” Batu motioned to Freydis, who had taken out her wooden sword and was beating down a pile of clothing.

“He does,” I replied. “If he sent you to take me away, I’m not leaving. My children are here. I belong here with them.”

“I agree,” Batu said without hesitation. “He didn’t send me to take you away.”

Puzzled, I waited for him to explain.

“I didn’t ask why he sent me,” Batu added quietly. “I wanted to find you. I didn’t care what he asked me to do in return.”

“That’s dangerous, Batu,” I whispered. “You know how he is.”

“Determined.”

“I’d choose a much different word.” Or every curse word ever in the existence of the world.

I never did figure out what Carter could have told Batu to turn the fierce Mongol warrior against the time travel organization he had worked for.

Batu and I looked at each other too long. I couldn’t help recalling the nights that had ended up creating the two little monsters in the room with us. I looked away, torn about what to think or do.

Ulf poked the carving of an animal on Batu’s belt.

“He wants to know what it is,” I explained.

“Snow leopard,” Batu replied.

Ulf glanced towards me, and I translated. The Viking equivalent either didn’t exist or it sounded strange, because my son frowned in response. Normally, I took the time to explain but this evening … my head was nowhere near clear enough this day.

Freydis returned to Batu’s side. I was about to warn him she would probably try to murder him with the sword, as she did everyone else. She went to stab him before I could stop her. Batu reacted, flipping her up into the air and tossing her onto the bed, his movements gentle, as they had been when he sparred with the younger children of his clan.

Freydis sat up, surprised. And then she laughed and tried to attack him again.

“She’s a little wild,” I said to Batu, face warm.

“She’s a warrior princess!” he replied and began play wrestling with the little girl who challenged grown warriors to duels at the drop of a hat. Trained by a Viking warrior, the daughter of a Mongol conqueror, Freydis was destined to become a warrior of legend. I could feel it about her.

I sat on the ground near the fire. Ulf sat in my lap, and we both watched the two interact. A bubble of pride lifted within me and Batu and his daughter played and wrestled. More dread rose with it. I loved Batu, but if never seeing him again meant my children would never lose their mother, then I’d have preferred he didn’t show up.

It was too late for such thoughts. Too late for anything, if the chain of events Asvald had envisioned were set into motion.

The mystic joined us soon after and watched, entertained as Batu and Freydis sparred. By the time they had finished, my feral daughter was tired enough to curl up beside me and start to fall asleep.

Asvald and I exchanged a look. Neither of us thought it was possible for the energetic warrior to ever be worn out. But if anyone could do it, it was Ivar or Batu.

Batu sat heavily and gripped his head.

“Are you well?” I asked and started to rise.

“Temporal displacement.”

I was haunted by the thought I had no idea why Carter sent him here. Batu had been desperate enough not to ask, a circumstance Carter would exploit without a second thought.

Asvald tended to Batu and pushed him back on the bed. My Mongol warrior sighed deeply. He drank the broth Asvald brought him.

I wanted to stay, to talk, to touch, to hear his voice again. It was like rain after a drought, and I needed to absorb as much of him as I could.

Ulf dozed off in my arms. Reluctantly, I stood, roused the kids, and went to the entrance.

“We will talk tomorrow,” I told Batu.

“We will talk forever,” he replied.

I smiled, touched by the sentiment and doubting it would never happen. We were two lovers passing in time at the whim of a madman.

Leaving Batu to sleep, I went to my room and sat in front of the fire. The twins curled up in my bed and were soon snoring.

I left them for a moment and went to the back door.

The Northern Lights stretched across the sky, their ethereal color otherworldly enough for me to almost believe in Asvald’s tales of elves, dwarves and giants. I had admired this natural phenomena soon after first arriving. It was only fitting I turned my eyes to the sky again before I left.

All I could think about was what Carter would force Batu to do, when Carter would yank me away from my children and life. Carter. Carter. Carter. If I ever met him again, I’d gut him like I had countless animals since arriving to the Viking Era. I didn’t think I ever would encounter him a second time, and even if I had the chance to confront him, I barely recalled what he looked like. I’d been stupid and clueless when we met in Tombstone all those years ago.

Plagued by thoughts of Carter, I finally left the doorway and returned to my room to sit between Ulf and Freydis. I dared not sleep, in case Carter sent someone to steal me away.

Exhausted, I woke the kids the next morning for breakfast. Asvald told the others Batu was present as an omen from Thor, who sent an extra warrior to protect us this summer. No one in the household questioned the Mongol warrior, who managed to appear out of place even when dressed in Ivar’s clothing. With his black hair and round face, he resembled no one from this place or anyone they had ever met.

But his smile was quick, and he didn’t just tolerate the kids, he entertained them in a manner that put the members of our family at ease. He took Freydis and Kolfinna out back to spar with them after breakfast. The idea of him spending time with his own daughter was endearing. I pushed a hesitant Ulf out the door to join them.

Sensing my son was different, Batu knelt in front of him and spoke a few words that caused Ulf’s brow to furrow. I imagined my son trying to understand the great Mongol warrior. In the end, Ulf frowned at Batu, who laughed and swung the boy up onto his shoulders.

Ulf smiled.

Batu sparred and played with the two girls until Kolfinna was called into the house to begin her chores. Freydis did her best to attack and defeat Batu, who out-maneuvered her on most occasions and pretended to be mortally wounded a few times as well. Ulf remained on his shoulders, sometimes laughing, other times squealing when Batu pretended to fall down.

The kids were euphoric having an adult dedicated to playing with them instead of corralling them, and Batu appeared to genuinely enjoy himself getting to know the son and daughter he couldn’t communicate with through words.

It was the best morning of my life.

“Yosee, would you like some tea?” Asvald called from inside the house.

“Yes!” I replied and shifted away from the doorway. I walked through the house and joined him at the table in the center of the community area.

Asvald was paler than usual and appeared upset.

“Are you well?” I asked, concerned.

“I must explain his appearance to Ivar,” the mystic replied.

“Tell Ivar Thor sent him.”

Asvald looked at me expressively.

“Oh,” I said. “The vision told you … what exactly? About Batu?”

Asvald glanced around to ensure no one overheard him. “That he was your husband, the father of your children,” he whispered. “Yosee, I am worried what will happen to them if Batu and Ivar do not wish to share them.”

“Your vision didn’t show you what happened after I was supposed to leave?”

“No.” Asvald set down the cup of tea in front of me and then twisted his hands in front of him.

“I think we should tell Ivar the truth. I don’t think either of them will do anything to upset the twins,” I said.

“They are both warriors. I fear they will fight.”

I sipped my tea, evaluating what I knew of Ivar and Batu. Ivar had adopted the children and loved them as his own. I didn’t know what Batu intended, but if I spoke to him ahead of time, before Ivar returned from his raids, I doubted Batu would do anything to challenge the head of the family. I did, however, understand Asvald’s concerns. The two alpha males could destroy each other, if they didn’t start off on the same page, and that would be bad for the twins, if not the entire community.

“We’ll talk to them,” I replied at last. “It makes more sense for Batu to stay to help the family.”

Asvald didn’t seem convinced. He stared at the table. He was distressed enough to have forgotten to pour his tea.

“Please don’t worry, Asvald,” I squeezed his hand. “Have some tea with me. We can talk through exactly what we want to say to both of them, if it helps you feel better about this.”

Asvald’s hands were shaking as he poured his cup of tea.

With mine gone, I held out my cup for a refill.

And then I noticed what exactly I held.

The Death Goblet fell from my fingers.

“Asvald,” I breathed and stood. “What have you done?”

“It is not poison, Yosee,” my best friend in history said quickly. “In the vision, I saw where to go in the forest to collect special medicine. The vision did not say you would die. It said the medicine would allow Odin to take you somewhere else. I am to place you in the forest in the spot where I found the medicines.”

Already my vision was blurring, and I was losing my balance. The pain of heartbreak swept through me as I realized my best friend had become my betrayer. Carter destroyed the people around me or turned them against me.

But Asvald? My sweet Asvald?

Why had I not tried harder to explain to him that he was under the control of a madman and not a god?

“Asvald!” I cried, panicking. “Don’t let them take me! Please!”

“My vision, Yosee,” he whispered and caught me as I fell. “Batu came so you could leave.”

The mystic was crying. In that moment, I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t, not when I knew who was responsible. I pitied Asvald, who would spend the rest of his life with the knowledge he’d taken away the twins’ mother.

He would be stuck in a hell similar to mine.

His last words were lost as my mind shut down.

Tunnel vision swallowed me, followed by darkness.