Dragon's Destiny: Voyages of Fortune Book Three.: Voyages of Fortune, #3

By Andrew Anzur Clement

Three missions. Two bloodlines. One endgame. One destiny.

In the Indian Ocean, 2005: Time-traveler Henry finds himself imprisoned on Jenn's ship of mercenaries, more than seven decades farther into the future than he expected. He will have to find a way to win the trust of a crew captained by his greatest nemesis if he is to have any hope of accomplishing the Order of the Dragon's goals, and saving Natalia's captured gypsy troop.

Following the crew's attempted mutiny, castaway Mark Fletcher decides to return home to England. But the Urumi's demonic Order has other ideas for Mark's future. They are planning to turn him against the crew in a final bid to control time itself.

To stop the Urumi, the crew must fight their way through multiple enemies in one of the world's most dangerous cities, as they try to gain control of the Invisible Circus's time-travel portals. Their success or failure may hinge on a secret deep in crewmember Mei Hua's past that could mean she is fated to play a pivotal role in the Order of the Dragon's endgame.

In Romania, 1890: Having escaped from her grandfather's rival gypsy troop, Natalia must make her way into the Ottoman Empire to locate the only magical object that could save her people. But her grandfather's adopted daughter, a vicious tyrant with superhuman combat abilities, is hot on her trail. Can Natalia outwit her long enough to aid the Order of the Dragon and lead her troop to salvation?

Location Unknown, 1928: Seven decades into the future, the Order of the Dragon's and the Urumi's ploys are coming to a head, but what role might world traveler and adventurer Alma Karlin still have to play?

The stakes have never been higher as the struggle to control time enters its final stages. The only hope is to trust the notes that continue to appear out of nowhere, sent by a mysterious puppet master who seems to be pulling all the strings for some purpose still unknown. Henry, the crew, and Natalia must fight their most difficult battles yet as they attempt to accomplish the Order of the Dragon's true purpose, uncover the sender's real identity, and the common destiny that will change the world.
The Voyages of Fortune trilogy is an eons-spanning, historical fantasy adventure. Its expansive story connects the royalty of the European Middle Ages with a space-folding pirate ship, sailing the high seas of the twenty-first century Indian Ocean. A action-packed 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 Three: Dragon's Destiny:
-young adult fantasy adventure series
-time-travel
-shapeshifters & demons
-magic and mystery
- pirate ship
-high seas quest
-Karachi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Anzur Clement
• Release date: Jun 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393848028

Book preview

One

Arabian Sea

March 2005

Henry sat in an office chair, his hands bound together and tied to the seat back. A metal conference table sat in front of him. The four large windows behind his back would have provided a stunning view of the sea beyond, if he’d been able to turn around and look at it. The rest of the room sported what looked to Henry to be a variety of glass panels. They displayed various repeating geometric patterns; he was not completely sure of their function.

Apart from the appearance of the room – and Bozhena’s presence onboard the ship it was a part of – Henry had hardly any idea of his situation, let alone the time period he was in. All of his plans, and possibly his life, were again in jeopardy.

He had to escape. But he had no idea how. His parents’ letter from their mine in California had told him that he was supposed to team up with a girl whose image they had drawn. She was another member of Count Friderik’s sect of the Order of the Dragon, one who would help him protect the control devices and the Fragment. He’d figured they would finally encounter each other when he met with Alma to modify the final device in Egypt. Instead, the last time Henry had gone through one of the time-travel portals of the Invisible Circus, he’d ended up staring Bozhena straight in the eyes.

Henry sighed, looking at the moving images on the screens of the machines whose function he did not know. Whatever Bozhena’s role in this, the fact that the crew had tied him to a chair indicated that they were loyal to her. He had to find a way to change that. But as he sat there in the unfamiliar room, he lacked enough information about his circumstances to win this crew’s trust.

Henry started, looking over from the screens with the moving images. The room’s only door creaked open. The individual who entered was tall, tan-skinned, and looked to be in his early twenties. Behind him was the young man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Stas, the Polish youth who had traveled with Henry in another time. The two of them sat down across from Henry.

They stared at him for a moment. Eventually, the one who looked to be of South Asian origin began talking.

Okay. I am going to start with the basics. Who are you? How do you know Jenn, and why did you try to attack her?

Who is Jenn? Henry blinked twice, genuinely confused. Wait, do you mean Bozhena?

The South Asian responded by mispronouncing the name. I have no idea who ‘Bozena’ is. Jenn is the Chinese-looking girl you tried to grab by the throat a few hours ago. I happen to consider her a friend.

Henry shook his head. Then you have unfortunate taste in friends. Jenn isn’t her real name. And she’s not really Asian. She is really called Bozhena. It’s as if her features have been altered somehow, to look Chinese, but I can still recognize her. She’s on some obsessive quest to control every aspect of civilization; I’ve got to stop her.

The second interrogator spoke up, with a British accent.

See, Jad? He’s harmless. Jenn, whatever her true identity, is the culprit here.

Henry’s eyes darted back to the South Asian. He took the opportunity to interrupt. He’s right. The girl you call Jenn is trying to take control over time itself. Whatever she did must have caused me to end up here.

The British-sounding interrogator shook his head. Take over time? You mean as in ‘time travel’? I’ve seen some things I can’t explain since winding up on this bloody ship, but that’s plain impossible.

Henry rolled his eyes.

Come on, Mark, Jad responded. After seeing everything we have, can we really discount the possibility? This looks like the person you almost shot a couple of months ago in the hold. How do we know where – or when – he was going when we saw him run through it? Jad paused for a minute. Or why he was? We don’t know anything about him, or that we can trust what he says. At least Jenn is something of a known quantity.

Mark rolled his eyes. Right. Her only known quantity is that she’s basically an unknown one. Whatever Jenn is up to, she clearly has something to hide. What if this is it? Shouldn’t we be questioning her, too?

Possibly, but she is one of our own, countered Jad. Considering the circumstances, I want to ascertain who this stranger is. I need to know how he got here and why he tried to attack Jenn, before I let him go roaming the ship freely.

Jad turned to Henry.

"How did you get here?"

Henry hunched his shoulders, as best as he could from where he sat tied to the chair.

Could you define ‘here,’ please? The last time I ran through one of the Circus portals, I expected to end up on this ship, but in 1920’s Egypt near to a lady named Alma Karlin.

Jad sighed. Never heard of her. This is the year 2005 and the ship is in the Arabian Sea near the city of Karachi, Pakistan.

What in bloody hell is a Circus portal? Mark asked.

Henry cocked his head at them, You mean you’re on board this ship and you don’t know what a Circus portal is?

Jad shook his head in apparent admission. No. We don’t. Only Jenn really knows about that kind of stuff, and she is not talking.

Mark turned to Jad. Look, I know you don’t want to admit it; you’re closer to her. But you don’t have a clue what she’s involved in. Honestly, it seems like this new arrival knows more than we do. And what he says squares with the notes we found in Jenn’s quarters. Mark turned back to Henry. Would you mind telling us what is really going on here?

Well, I could tell you some things about Circus portals. But it’s not like I know how I ended up here, specifically, any more than you two do. Bozhena – the girl you keep calling Jenn – has done something to cause this to happen. Stas...um... Henry paused for a moment, using his friend’s name for his apparent doppelganger. Uh, Mark is right. Bozhena – Jenn – is the only one with the answers we’re all looking for. I want to find out what’s going on just as much as you do. If she’s still trying to harness the ability to time travel – to mess with causality – and I’m here, then she’s got to nearing her endgame. The last time she tried to go through with one of her power-mad plans the closest person to me on earth wound up dead. I realize I’m the outsider and that Bozhena is a friend to some of you. But if I were in your shoes, I’m not the only one I’d be interrogating.

Silence fell over the meeting room for a few seconds. Mark looked over at Jad. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. But assuming that time travel is possible, I think we can trust his story. Hiding the fact that she’s trying to take control over temporal causality itself would be a valid reason for doggedly refusing to tell us what this mission is really about.

Jad sighed, remaining silent for a moment. Granted, he admitted. But that still doesn’t mean we can verify anything he says.

Look, said Henry, this isn’t getting anybody anywhere. We’re all asking the same essential questions: How did I get here? Can I trust the stranger sitting in front of me right now? There is only one person with the information that can lead us to those answers – the one you call Jenn. Let’s go and ask her. Each of us can give our own version of what’s happened, and then you can decide what to believe.

Mark nodded. Jenn doesn’t have all the cards anymore. Now that this guy is here, her cat might have jumped at least partially out of the bag. She’s going to have to come clean.

Jad stared at Henry for a full moment. He eventually stood, the chair making a grating sound on the deck as he pushed it back. Very well. We’ll try it.

Mark walked around to the other side of the table. He untied Henry from the chair, allowing him to stand and freely use his limbs. He extended a hand to the new arrival on the ship.

The name is Mark Fletcher.

Henry accepted the hand, noticing from the slight confusion on Mark’s face that his own must have displayed a déjà vu type of recognition.

Henry Kovačič, he introduced himself.

Jad walked over to the door. Henry followed. Mark brought up the rear. They walked back up the way Henry had been taken down into the meeting room. The three of them turned right as they came out of the hull, making a U-turn onto the side deck. Beyond the ship’s bow, Henry could make out the coastline of an immense city. An island to their side shielded the ship from the coast’s direct view. He took in the sight of the city with some surprise. The town that Jad had mentioned they were near had been little more than a sleepy port town when he’d visited it with Alma in the 1920s. Henry turned and climbed the ladder onto the uppermost of the two outdoor decks.

His eyes set on the wheelhouse. Through the large windows, he could see the back of Bozhena’s head. Its now-black hair swayed as she harangued someone who could not be seen. Behind her, on the back wall, Henry could see the bare-chested felinoid, who’d restrained him when he’d leapt for Bozhena, and the two other Middle Eastern-looking individuals who had been present when he appeared on the ship.

They reached the wheelhouse. Jad stepped up to the door and opened it. Henry turned and prepared to step over the threshold. He heard what was definitely Bozhena’s voice yelling, Damn you, Mei, I know you are trying to stop me. Quit denying it and desist. Bozhena turned at their entrance, making the profile of the figure she’d been haranguing apparent.

Henry stopped in mid-stride. The girl Bozhena was yelling at looked beat-up and demoralized. She sat, slumped on the table in front of Bozhena. But that was not what caused him to pause: a tattoo of the Order of the Dragon’s emblem ran the full length of the girl’s left arm.

Stop what? I still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.

The girl, who Bozhena had called Mei, turned to look at who was entering. Her full face came into Henry’s field of vision. He recognized her. He ran towards her, calling out two sentences that caused all hell to break loose around him:

You’re the other agent of the Dragon. It’s you I was meant to find!

Two

Negreşti, Kingdom of Romania

February 1890

The screech of a whistle letting out steam reached Natalia’s ears. Shortly after, there was a hiss as the train she was on pulled out of the station. Natalia looked out of the window as the station platform fell behind. The locomotive gathered speed. The sound of metal wheels clacking rhythmically against the lengths of iron track did little to ease her tattered state of mind.

A couple of days had passed since she’d fled Iaşi, along with Masha, on the mission Henry had asked her to embark upon. She remained dressed in the same clothes that Masha had given her upon escaping from the Grigorites. The wounds Ileana, Ion Grigorescu’s stepdaughter, had inflicted on her back and forehead stung. Natalia rested against the varnished wooden slats of the bench seats in the train’s second-class wagon, which headed southwest towards Bucharest, faster and faster.

Natalia’s violin case rested by her side. She had not opened it once since her escape from the Grigorites’ stronghold. For her, it remained the object of shame that she deserved to lug along on her journey. The saddlebag full of US cash that Henry told her needed to be deposited in a Swiss franc-denominated bank account, once they reached the Ottoman Empire, was stashed under the seat beneath her, its flap carefully shut so that no one else could see the contents.

"Pardon?" a voice called amid the low chatter of the others in the crowded rail car.

Natalia kept staring out the window at the passing winter scenery, too distracted by her guilt and fear to really notice as it went by.

The voice repeated louder. "Madmoazelă, pardon?"

Natalia. Masha’s voice jolted the young woman out of her reverie. She looked across to where the slightly younger Roma sat on the bench seat opposite her, staring expectantly.

What?

Nothing. Masha pointed upwards. The conductor just wants to punch your ticket.

Oh. Natalia reached into a slim pocket of her brightly colored, ankle-length dress and extracted the travel document that she’d purchased before boarding the train. She held it out to the uniformed man who punched a hole in it, before moving out without giving them trouble due to their Roma origins.

Natalia went back to staring out of the window.

Natalia. She heard Masha’s voice again. Her eyes remained fixed on the scenery outside.

What’s bothering you? We’ve managed to stay ahead of Ileana, and we got past the conductor without a problem.

She refrained from looking at Masha. I’ve been an idiot. I’m responsible for the capture of my entire Sălaşa, Natalia whispered.

Yep. You pretty much are.

Natalia snapped her head over to look at the girl who sat opposite her."

Rubbing it in isn’t exactly helping. After how I’ve treated you and Henry, what I’ve done to the Sălaşa, how can the two of you trust me to do this?

It should help. Because you have a chance to change that now. Henry and I know you have what it takes to make it to the control device.

No. I’ve already gotten the Sălaşa captured once. I failed because I couldn’t admit that we had to prepare for what was coming.

And that created the circumstances that could make you the one who leads us to freedom and allows us to avoid the coming world wars.

Natalia shook her head and looked at the black metal floor of the train carriage. No. I’m not a leader. You’re even-tempered, rational, and logical. You can adapt to any circumstance as if you’re perfectly adjusted to it. You’d make a better Başbulibaşa than I would.

Masha shrugged. Maybe I am those things. But, despite all of that, I don’t think I’d make as good of a leader for the Sălaşa as you, especially now.

Natalia shook her head. Why?

Because you’re bolder, more intransigent and more of a risk-taker than I am. Also, I don’t want the job.

Really? Isn’t that what everyone should want?

Maybe some do, but if they were only putting up with the stress, the in-fighting, or the responsibility in order to get the associated prestige, it wouldn’t be good for the Sălaşa, or for them in the long run. Whatever you want to do, the shame Grigorescu instilled in you when he killed your family is the only thing holding you back.

Masha, I don’t know... Natalia began before something pulled on her shoulder. Her head jerked up.

The conductor was back. He stood over her. His right hand pressed firmly on her wounded shoulder.

Natalia winced at the pain. Is there a problem? she asked, confused at the man’s return.

The conductor’s features hardened. Of course, there is a problem, as you no doubt are well aware.

What? Natalia breathed.

A young woman in the first-class carriage just informed me that the two of you stole her money, shortly after you boarded the train. Quite a tidy sum, I’m told.

Natalia glanced over at Masha. The younger gypsy was equally befuddled.

That’s not true.

Ignoring Natalia’s assertion, the conductor reached down to the area under Natalia’s seat. He pulled out the saddlebag full of money that Henry had given her.

"Natalia reached out to stop him.

Don’t touch that. That’s...

He shook her off, picked up the saddlebag and flipped open the flap.

Not yours. He let out a scoff. Gypsies. It really is true. There isn’t a word of truth or a day’s work in you, is there? He hefted the saddlebag back over to her. Come on. You are going to give this back to its rightful owner. Then the two of you are going to sit in my compartment until I can leave you off with the police at the next station.

The conductor hefted the two Roma off the benches. Natalia tried to break loose and flee. But the others in the compartment clustered around her, forming a ring. The crowd parted, allowing a path to the door that led out of the railcar, back towards the first-class compartment. The saddlebag and violin case were in Natalia’s hands as they left.

Natalia felt Masha’s gaze upon her as they navigated outdoor balconies that constituted the space between the railcars. She dared to look over at the younger Roma. ‘Fight,’ Masha mouthed as the conductor opened the gates in the balconies’ railings. They entered the much more sparsely populated first class compartment.

Natalia sighed. She wanted to do as Masha advised. But she could not shake the feeling of shame, which told her this next failure was somehow her rightful punishment for a crime she had not committed. The conductor spoke.

I found the gypsies who stole your money, miss.

I cannot tell you how thankful I am, sir, for taking the time to aid me. My entire family and I need that money to travel to America.

Hearing the voice, Natalia’s head snapped up. Her eyes took in the almost milk-skinned, Slavic features of Ileana Grigorescu. Her nemesis’s adopted daughter was dressed in a high-necked, embroidered dress with an overcoat and parasol. Her Roma henchmen, Monica and Roman, nowhere to be seen: Ileana could have passed for the child of a non-Roma, a well-to-do merchant or businessman.

Ileana fixed Natalia with an icy smile. Then she turned to the conductor and continued. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found her for me.

Much obliged, miss. He indicated the violin case in Natalia’s hand. Did she steal that from you, as well?

Ileana smirked as if disinterested. No. I think I’ll let her keep that.

The conductor turned to Natalia. You heard the young lady. Return what you took from her.

Ileana’s cold smile deepened, as if she had scored a personal victory.

Natalia stood there, hesitating for a moment. Almost without her realizing it at first, something snapped inside her. For the first time, she allowed herself to be overcome with a sudden rage that was purely directed at another for how they dismissed what she could do. She allowed that rage to fuel a reaction that even she had not expected.

Without warning, Natalia flung her violin case downward while bringing the saddlebag up. The neck of the case swept Ileana’s legs out from under her, while the bag full of cash broadsided the conductor’s face. Completely unprepared for the attack, both collapsed into a heap onto the floor.

How dare you! Worthless scum, Ileana screamed from where she writhed, struggling to pick herself up from under one of the empty tables in the first-class cabin. She attempted to sit up, banging her head on the bottom side of the table.

Natalia turned to the conductor. She noticed that he wore a baton on his waist belt. He tried to lumber back to his feet. Hefting the saddlebag to Masha, she reached out and grabbed the metal club. She clocked the conductor on the head with its handle, causing him to slump into unconsciousness. Natalia leaped down again for his waist belt, retrieving the keys to each of the wagon doors on the train. She turned and, along with Masha, ran from the compartment.

They had just exited and finished locking the door to the first-class wagon when Natalia halted. She’d been about to re-enter the second-class car where the passengers already believed that she and Masha had stolen the saddlebag. They would try to stop her; there was no way that she could fight them all. She locked the door to that compartment as well. Natalia looked about as the train sped through the countryside on a winter morning.

Not liking how exposed she and Masha remained, Natalia craned her neck upward. The outdoor balcony she was standing on sported a wrought-iron canopy, in addition to its railing.

Come on. Natalia gave her violin case to Masha. She climbed onto the railings of the two carriage balconies, spreading her legs in an A-frame so that she could balance between them. She reached up to the ironwork that skirted the overhang of the first class wagon. With a grunt of pain, Natalia pulled herself up and then onto the metal awning’s top. She turned about, reached down and collected the violin and cash from Masha, who climbed on as well, with Natalia giving her a hand up.

They crawled onto the metal roof of the carriage with the items and collapsed onto their stomachs, trying to keep as low a profile as possible.

So, what now? Masha whispered, winded from the climb.

We wait until the next stop. Then we hide from Ileana, and likely the local authorities, before catching another train to Bucharest at the next town over. Natalia smiled in exhilaration for a moment. Then a frown came over her face. I should have thought of this before. With how she looks, Ileana can pass as a non-Roma.

Masha shrugged as best she could while lying on top of the railcar. Well, technically speaking, she’s not a gypsy; I didn’t think of it either. Either way, you got us away from...

The sound of shattering glass reached their ears. Natalia looked over, down past wagon’s right side, where the sound had come from. One of the window panes had been completely broken. Ileana launched herself out of the frame, using the speed and