Hidden Truths: Voyages of Fortune Book One. An Historical Fantasy Time-Travel Adventure: Voyages of Fortune, #1

By Andrew Anzur Clement

Divergent times. Distant lands. Different missions. One gambit.
In Austro-Hungary, 1898: a sickly girl discovers a bundle of instructions addressed to her by a legendary nobleman, who lived centuries ago. He entrusts her with a powerful ring and mission to protect the world from the ambitions of both factions of a mystical power struggle. It will require her to embark on a quest that will cause her own culture to reject her; the girl knows she has to accept. Now an outcast, she must outwit the Society's and the Urumi's evil designs as she attempts to alter a series of magical devices that can give anyone the power to control the world. 
In Thailand, 2004: Mei Hua and Mark, two unvalued interns, are swept out to sea by a giant wall of water. They are rescued by a space-folding sailing ship, crewed by a gang of pirates. To survive, Mark and Mei are required to join forces with the mercenaries and fight to retrieve another powerful object that -- known only to the ship's enigmatic captain -- can make the world descend into chaos. Trapped on the strange ship, Mei and Mark must find it within themselves to keep this artifact from falling into the wrong hands – assuming they can determine whose hands those are.
In Russia, 1889: Natalia, the untested heir of her gypsy camp, finds herself in charge when her grandmother is abducted by an enemy her troop is not prepared to fight. The situation seems hopeless; from a secret buried deep in her past, Natalia knows it is her fault. Then a mysterious note from a sender she does not know offers an impossible way out – one that will doom her troop to slavery, or worse, if it fails. Natalia must find her inner courage and overcome the demons of her past if she is to lead her troop to salvation.
These are the Voyagers. Each believes they are working for their own ends. They are dead wrong. They have unknowingly become pawns in a centuries-spanning gambit to control time and the world itself. Their paths are about to cross. 
All that remains to be seen is: who is really about to take over?

The Voyages of Fortune trilogy is an eons-spanning, time travel adventure, set in the Keepers of the Stone historical fantasy universe. Its expansive story connects the royalty of the European Middle Ages with a pirate ship, sailing the high seas of the twenty-first century Indian Ocean. A thrilling adventure of self-discovery where nothing is as it seems. When nothing is certain, the only one you can rely on is yourself.

Tags for Voyages of Fortune Book One: Hidden Truths:
-young adult time travel fantasy adventure series
-shapeshifters & demons
-magic and mystery
- pirate ship
-high seas quest

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Anzur Clement
• Release date: Jun 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393958352

Book preview

Free Offer!

Dear Reader,

Welcome, or welcome back, to the Keepers of the Stone/Voyages of Fortune universe. Before you dive into Voyages of Fortune Book One, I just wanted to let you know that you can get the prequel novella, Voyages of Fortune Book Zero: Discoveries, completely for FREE Here!

Thanks and Happy Reading,

Andrew Anzur Clement

Embarkation

Celje, Austro-Hungarian Empire

January 1898

The girl ran, snow crunching under her boots. Ruined walls passed beside her. Through them, she could see glimpses of the town where she had grown up. A river curved to the left past the town’s center. Beside it, a smaller tributary flowed. The mountains to the northwest sat covered with snow. Hurriedly, the girl moved on; she limped slightly. Time was running out. She had to find a place to hide.

As she moved, the youth looked for some outcropping or crumbling emplacement where she could conceal herself. Her shoulder-length brown hair moved about her long face, framing it. At about eight years of age, her body was still relatively compact. There were many options. But none of them were good.

She heard a voice yell from behind her. Time’s almost up.

It was one of her friends. Bored, they’d come up to the ruined castle to play that Sunday afternoon. The girl who now looked for a hiding place was frustrated. Somehow they always seemed to find her. She was sick of it.

Her brown eyes looked up towards the fortress’s stone tower. She’d always associated it with two things: the stories she’d heard in her younger years about the nobility who used to live in this fortress, and the fact that her mother had forbidden her to enter it. Now almost at the end of the nineteenth century, the tower was in poor repair.

As she looked at the crumbling stone structure, it occurred to the girl that she could use this to her advantage. The others were under similar restrictions from their parents. Maybe they would not think to look for her there, if she hid inside.

Changing course, she ran for its main opening. The girl entered it. She turned to the left to look up towards its roofless top. She’d always wondered what it had been like for the man from the stories – the one who’d been imprisoned here by his own father.

The girl noticed an outcropping near one corner of the tower. She moved towards it and heard something breaking under her weight. Then she felt herself falling. Her body landed at the bottom of a hole roughly a meter deep, along with what appeared to be the remains of a rotted trap door. Her head knocked against the stone wall that formed the tower’s foundation. A few loose stones fell, landing on her. Although they did little more than scrape her, she cried out at the pain.

After a few seconds, another object fell into her lap. It appeared to be a package that had been hidden behind the stones. She yelped again, more in surprise than in any discomfort. Her hands moved to pick up the bundle. She turned it over, examining it. It was a package of papers, quite a thick one. From one end, a small golden ring tumbled into her hand. Intrigued, she slipped both objects into her coat pocket just as her friends – who’d heard her cry out – came to stand over the hole.

Are you okay? one of them asked in their native German.

The girl responded in the affirmative.

Do you want to play some more?

No. I think I just want to go home, she responded, both shaken by the fall and intensely curious about what she’d found.

They pulled her out. The girl departed.

Later that night, once her parents had gone to sleep, that same individual lay on her bed. She examined each of the papers that comprised the bundle’s contents. Only a single candle, which sat on her nightstand, illuminated the room.

It was not even paper, but what appeared to be some sort of ancient vellum. A number of the sheets contained blocks of text. They were in spidery alphabets, the characters of many different languages that the girl could not read. Others contained hand-drawn maps. With no scale or context, they were of places that she did not recognize. Finally, there were images of places, events, and people. One page held the drawing of a crudely sketched boy with what appeared to be a cut on the left side of his face. Her eyebrows rose when she saw the image of a dragon strangling itself with its own tail, drawn with what appeared to be some form of charcoal. Then she saw the form of a dark figure with what appeared to be a large stone or jewel of some kind. And what looked like the ring that was now in her possession, placed in some type of cubical stone contraption that was marked with natively formed dials. Another set of writings – in Latin – followed the renderings.

When she arrived at the final page in the bundle, the girl gasped at the first thing she noticed: an ancient wax seal comprised of three stars, accompanied by the signature of the man she’d heard about all of her life. The one imprisoned in the tower. It appeared to be some kind of letter.

She read it from the bottom upwards. One sentence at a time. It was a set of instructions. Warnings and descriptions of fantastical things and objects. Of the dark beings, of the Urumi, and of the Society’s mystical powers. Then – closer to the top – an explanation. The intended recipient of this letter was being entrusted with a great responsibility. The same mission embarked upon by its author and his own beloved: a quest whose purpose was to thwart the supernatural forces of those organizations. Above all, it implored that they could not gain possession of the ring that had been a part of this package.

By this point, the girl was beginning to wonder: Had this man simply gone mad, imprisoned alone in the tower? These had to be the scribblings of one driven to insanity by his isolation and longing. By the time she was almost finished with the letter, the girl had convinced herself; this must be the only explanation. At least she had the ring. She smiled at the idea of how jealous it would make her friends.

Then all such thoughts left her mind – forever. Her eyes widened as they settled on the letter’s first line. She did not know how it was possible. It should not have been. But it was there. The eight-year-old girl stared for a couple of moments at the short string of words she knew had changed her life:

Her name. It was her full name. The letter – written by a man who had lived centuries ago – was addressed to her.

One

Koh Pi Pi, Thailand

December 2004

You know, Mei, Mark Fletcher said to the girl he was supposed to be minding, your father is going to kill me when he sees this.

Fine. Then they’d take him to prison. Sure would make my life a whole lot easier.

Seriously, Mei. He’s not going to be happy.

Mark pointed at the black metal bar that jutted across the upper rim of the girl’s left ear, easily its fourth or fifth piercing.

Yeah. He told me. It’s not like he’s actually going to do anything. He never does, besides the yelling.

The Chinese-Khmer shrugged her compact frame. She’d spent the past five years living with only her father, a Han Chinese banker living in Phnom Penh. Her mother had left them as soon as she was able to qualify for a Chinese passport.

Right. But this could be the thing that gets me fired.

Mark did not want to think about that possibility. His own father had encouraged him to apply for this internship even though it took place over his winter break from the University of Birmingham. The man believed ‘industriousness’ to be the hallmark of any proud Briton; if asked, Mark would have said he agreed with his father. He tried to live up to the man’s expectations. At the age of three, Mark had lost his mother to breast cancer. Now, his father was all he had.

The reality of his latest internship, however, hadn’t turned out better than any of his previous ones. Mark had only been with the Cambodian NGO for a couple of weeks. He was already counting the days until he could return home to England. He checked the date on his watch: December 26th. Another reminder of how annoyed he’d become with the entire situation.

When Mei’s father, a major donor to the Green Rural Development Organization, had asked to tour some of the NGO’s field sites, the organization’s owner had decided that the Han Chinese businessman should be taken all the way from Phnom Penh to the sponsor villages in Krabi, Thailand. The real purpose was to encourage the man to increase his donations. When Mei’s father had also asked that the GRDO offer an internship to his fifteen-year-old daughter for the duration of the trip, they hadn’t been in a position to refuse. The problem was that she didn’t want to be there. With Mark unable to spontaneously find other potential sponsors, minding Mei became his main assignment.

On this particular day, they were supposed to be attending discussions between Mei’s father and the heads of the GRDO. But, for whatever reason, Mei had insisted on leaving the island’s largest city, renting bikes, and going to the uninhabited area near its southwestern end. The Han Chinese banking executive had frowned at his daughter when they’d left. Beside the GRDO’s founder stood his own daughter, Sovanna Lim, smiling victoriously.

Hey! A gypsy boat! Mei exclaimed, running toward a wooden craft moored close to the rocky coast.

The problem student of an international school, her voice carried a North American accent; the Chinese-Khmer wore her long black hair with bangs that came down to her eyebrows. Bands of hot pink highlights streaked through her locks. Piercings dotted her ears and nose. If she removed her black leather jacket, the tattoos that covered both of her arms would have been visible.

Mei! That’s someone else’s boat! Mark yelled, starting after her.

He sighed. This was ridiculous. He wanted to be back in England doing.... I don’t know what, but anything has to be better than ringing in 2005 by trying to keep some spoiled brat out of trouble.

The fair-skinned young man checked his watch again. He exhaled in disappointment. Not even past ten in the morning. This is going to be a long day.

Mei climbed into the boat.

Hey! Pretty Flower! What do you think you’re doing?

His reference to the literal meaning of her given name – Mei Hua – finally earned him a response.

I told you to stop calling me that.

Get out and I just might think about it.

Why don’t you come in and get me?

Mark hunched his shoulders. He didn’t want to enable Mei further, but he couldn’t see any choice. The young man had to get her out before the boat’s owners – he figured they were spearfishing or the like – returned.

Reluctantly, Mark descended the steep rocky incline, intending to drag the Asian girl out by the nape of her jacket if necessary.

No sooner had he entered than Mei Hua lunged past him. He didn’t have time to react before she pulled the rope that tied the traditional wooden boat to one of the rocks. It came loose. They now floated freely.

Mei, what in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?

Isn’t it obvious? We’re going on a ride.

Do you even know how to sail this kind of thing? It doesn’t have a real motor.

Mei Hua looked around the boat’s compartment, seeming to realize this for the first time.

Oh, uh, didn’t notice, I guess.

"You didn’t notice? What in the name of perdition are we going to do now?"

I don’t know. She shrugged as if this weren’t her problem. Then her mind hit on a prospect that seemed to strike her fancy. Swim to shore?

Mark sighed in exasperation. He looked around. They’d floated out to sea shockingly fast. Both of them could now see the island’s main city, Ton Sai, through the cove in which it was situated. Mark squinted his green eyes. There was something off about the view. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Do you have any idea how far out...?

He paused in mid-sentence as it struck him: the seabed around the island was visible.

What happened to the water? Mei asked.

I have no idea.

They watched with morbid fascination as the water receded further.

Then the boat’s hull bucked. A wave only a meter and a half tall passed under it. Mark and Mei looked up from where they had begun to right themselves on the bottom of the hull. Their mouths dropped open.

A wall of water smashed into the city. It swept the entire settlement off its narrow isthmus. The flotsam reversed direction.

The young Englishman let out a confused whimper of disbelief. His body collapsed back onto the boat’s hull. Mei looked away from the obliterated city where her father had been, out to the vast horizon. Then she allowed herself to fall onto the deck beside her minder.

The backwash pushed Mark Fletcher and Wong Mei Hua out to sea. The sun’s burning rays beat down upon them. Time passed. Eventually, exposure prevailed; unconsciousness welcomed them into its numbing embrace.

Two

Near Katowice, German Empire

November 1889

She didn’t have to die.

Henry voiced the realization as he hunched in front of a small fire. Natalia, the Roma girl who had been his closest friend over the last two-plus years, sat across from him. On most nights, they had been able to chat almost jovially. This evening, they both sat in silence. The gypsy girl glared down at one of the books she’d recently gotten from the mystic forum of the Invisible Circus. Like the others in her collection, it was printed in English and from a date far in the future. Her violin rested beside her.

"Henry, what are you, like, talking about? Natalia’s voice was tired.

She knew exactly what he meant. Henry had lamented Malka’s death many times over the period that separated him from her demise.

You know who I’m talking about, the brown haired boy replied softly.

You’re right. She kidnapped you after your parents were killed. I still don’t get why you felt such loyalty towards her.

Normally Natalia met Henry’s occasional bouts of remorse regarding Malka with compassion and sympathy. Tonight, however, was different. She’d never told Henry the exact date. But exactly eight years ago on this day, her parents had been murdered – beaten to death in front of her eyes.

She rescued me back in California. You know that, the blue-eyed boy grated.

Yeah, I know. She abducted you out of what you thought was such a bad situation. In the end, she did what she had to. Will you, like, move on already?

Hey, um, why are you talking like this, all of a sudden?

Because this is your life now.

The brown-eyed young woman raised her arms to indicate the gypsy camp around her and then let them flop by her side.

Why can’t you just, like, accept it and move on?

I know it is. It’s just, well, what if Malka didn’t have to sacrifice herself?

Henry raised his head, eyeing the darker skinned Roma. Unlike her usual garish attire, she was clothed in rather subdued fabrics. There was a far-off look in her eyes. She reached for her violin, which sat in the case to her left, and began to pluck it.

So what? That’s in the past. It’s not like you can undo it, or anything.

Henry raised his eyebrows and simultaneously kept thinking out loud. Right, but if we’d trusted Bozhena even though she was an Urumi, tried to bring her into in the fold, she may not have gone through with...

Natalia didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. The memory of her parents’ death – of her grandfather, the man who had been there, presiding over it all – rushed back to her mind. She fixed her gaze on Henry and began to yell, caught in a remorseful recollection even as she attempted to force it away.

Yeah, woulda, shoulda, coulda. Like, hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that....

Natalia, what’s eating at you?

Eating at me? What’s pissing me off is that your abductor sacrificed herself to save you. And now you won’t accept your situation.

She saved all of us.

Whatever. Like, good for her, Natalia continued in a smaller voice.

She went back to plucking her violin.

"What’s gotten into you?

She looked up at him. You know what Henry? How about you just mind your own...

A plump figure pushed its way into the midst of the argument. Natalia snapped her head around as if she hoped for some miraculous reprieve from the unpleasant discussion and painful memories.

It was Masha. She was out of breath. Straggling behind her were the older members of a raiding party she had led. They all headed directly for an ostentatious tent on the far end of the gypsies’ camp. Natalia could see that the Sălaşa grew more agitated at the premature return of one of its largest theft squads.

Masha, what happened? she asked in Romanian, a note of fear in her voice.

Like nearly all members of the camp, Masha could not speak English. Natalia’s switch to her first language caused her to omit any filler words.

In response, the plump girl gasped for air. Also in her teens, Masha was a couple of years younger than Natalia. Both girls had been tutored in the art of theft by Natalia’s grandmother, the gypsy queen known as Golden Fingers.