by Guy d'Armen
It was indeed easy to see the tracks left by the predator in the soft muddy trail they were following. The animal was on the prowl and they heard more low growls, but without being able to determine exactly where the beast might be hiding.
Abruptly, Suleyma’s horse began to panic and gallop out of control. For an instant, Ardan lost sight of the young woman as her horse rounded a bend in the road. But immediately he heard a loud, fierce roar, then a cry of pain coming from his companion’s mount.
As he caught up with her, Ardan beheld a dreadful sight: the tiger had jumped out of the grass and had sunk one of his paws into the horse’s backside, while trying to claw the young woman’s back with the other.
But because the horse kept running, the tiger could not secure enough leverage to break either its back or the young woman’s! But when the horse would finally collapse—a matter of seconds at most!—Suleyma’s fate would be sealed!
Ardan tried to aim at the predator’s head with his rifle, but could not secure a safe shot without the risk of hitting his companion, whose shoulder was already bleeding profusely.
Time was running out! If Suleyma collapsed before her horse, the tiger would simply drag her body away into the jungle and devour her later.
Ardan spurred his horse forward and the brave animal seemed to understand what his rider was planning since it increased its speed despite its natural fear of the predator. The distance between the two decreased sharply. Ardan shouted to the screaming young girl to hold on—that he was coming to her rescue.
As the two horses ran parallel to each other, Ardan dropped the reins, grabbed his gun and shot the tiger point blank in the head.
The beast dropped, dead before it reached the ground, while the young man grabbed the reins of Suleyma’s horse to slow it down.
They stopped and the young girl fainted in her rescuer’s arms. Fortunately, they were in a clearing near a brook. Ardan lay Suleyma down and started to wash and bandage her shoulder wounds, which were not critical, with strips of fabric torn from his shirt. In particular, her clavicle was unharmed, which meant she would swiftly recover once her wounds healed.
More gravely wounded was the brave horse, which had carried the young girl. The poor animal was whinnying in pain and was bleeding profusely. Ardan also washed its wounds which helped the horse feel better. He found some Mongolian yarrow to stop the bleeding and also bandaged the wounds. While the animal would not be able to be ridden for a while, it would, at least, survive.
The horse expressed its gratitude by rubbing his muzzle against the young man’s face.
Meanwhile Suleyma had awakened and thanked Ardan in a whisper. The young man nodded and indicated she should rest while he prepared a fire to brew a cup of plantain to diminish the risks of infection in her wounds. But the young doctor was concerned about tetanus from the claws of the tiger, and there was no serum at hand and it was unlikely he could find any for hundreds, if not thousands of miles.
The thought hit him then that if he could find some gin-seng, that might help Suleyma, but for that, they needed to find a Tartar village, with all the risks that entailed...
A couple of hours later, when Suleyma appeared sufficiently recovered, they left the clearing, both young people riding on the same horse while the wounded horse followed behind.
CHAPTER XII
Attack of the Kunghuz
Several hours later, they saw a feng-tsu, or hunting lodge, ahead of them.
Ardan decided to stop there and find out if he could secure additional help for his companion and the wounded horse. He knew that local traditions required occupants to assist each other in case of need.
The building was located about thirty yards away, and looked clean and well taken care of, not like a lair of bandits. It was made of tree trunks skillfully interlaced together; the gaps between them were filled with clay, providing for a warm and hospitable space inside. Just outside the front porch, a shed had been set up for horses and other animals.
Ardan decided to be cautious, and left Suleyma on the horse while he went and took a peek inside. He tiptoed to the front door and looked through a narrow glass window that had been cut through the wood. The only occupant was a small, older Chinese man, who was presently watching a pot of water boil on the hearth while smoking a long pipe.
Ardan thought that he looked harmless enough, but decided not to surprise him by knocking on the door.
The old Chinese came to the door, looking inquisitive.
“I am a French explorer,” said the young man. “My companion needs help. She was attacked by a tiger.”
The Chinese’s eyes widened, as he saw Suleyma still waiting on her horse.
“Come in, come in,” he said, waving to the young woman. “I will help you.”
Ardan helped Suleyma get off and supported her while they got inside. Then he went out to put the two horses in the shed.
When he returned, he found the Chinese man examining Suleyma’s wounds. The young woman was lying on a bed made of dried grass hastily put together by the Chinese.
“The tiger’s claws carry evil spirits,” said the older man, “but I have something with me that will chase the demons away and cure her.”
“Gin-seng?” asked Ardan.
“Yes, gin-seng... The root that confers strength, heath and long life...”
He rummaged through a black wooden box and pulled out two small twisted brown roots with a vaguely humanoid shape, including the presence of what might have passed for hair.
“I am an herbalist,” he explained. “I have spent many months in the region collecting gin-seng. Your companion was lucky to have found me. I will prepare an infusion and wash her wounds. She will be fine. I will also take care of your mount later.”
“I am deeply grateful. What is your name?”
“Ranjian. It is not often that I see a Fakuo—a Frenchman in these regions.”
“I was prisoner of the Red Wizard, but I managed to escape. Have you heard of him?”
Ranjian showed his surprise once more.
“You escaped unharmed from the Red Wizard? All fear him here; none have ever succeeded in escaping from his underground hell. You must be a miracle worker.”
“No,” smiled Ardan, “just very determined. But it takes bravery too, to search for gin-seng alone and unaided in this region, no?”
Ranjian smiled self-deprecatingly.
“That is not untrue. The deadliest menace is, of course, the Red Wizard himself, who tortures all those he catches trying to ‘steal’ his gin-seng. Then, there are the tigers, which are many in these parts, and fearlessly prey on the unwary travelers, as your companion may attest. They, too, know the virtues of the root, and when one of us tries to dig one out, it is not uncommon for a tiger, a bear, or a panther to come, seeking to wrest it away from us, and in a such a battle, the herbalist rarely emerges victorious. But the worst plague are those bandits who would betray mother and father and kill their own children just to rob the herbalist who has finally succeeded in finding a stash of gin-seng. Not brave enough to find the root for themselves, they would rather steal it and kill those like myself...”
The infusion was now done. Ranjian took a piece of clean linen and used it to wash Suleyma’s wounds. Then he rebandaged her and made her drink a cup of the same infusion.
“Drink, woman,” he advised. “There is nothing better. Tomorrow, your health will have returned.”
He then set up a bowl of mashed millet to cook and a pot of tea to brew while he went out to administer the same salve to the wounded horse.
When he returned, they ate.
During the rest of the day, Ranjian redid Suleyma’s treatment twice, until sunset, when they all fell asleep.
In the morning, Ranjian got up and, after examining Suleyma’s wounds and declaring himself satisfied, grabbed an old rifle.
“The woman could use a little more rest,” he told Ardan. “I am also a trapper, so I will take this opportunity to check on my tra
ps. I hunt sable, which thrive in this region. I’m taking the gun in case I meet a bear or, praise the gods, a tiger.”
“You’d like to meet a tiger?” said Ardan, nonplussed.
“Oh yes,” replied Ranjian, smiling. “Its heart and liver fetch the same price as gold back in China. I can also sell its fur and its teeth and claws make excellent amulets.”
After he had gone, Ardan prepared breakfast for them. While serving her, he asked Suleyma how she felt.
“Very well,” she replied. “I no longer feel exhausted, since I drank his infusion. And I can barely feel my wounds. This is truly a wondrous medicine. We were blessed indeed to have found this man. I feared we might have come across some cruel Russian hunters, who are also known to roam these lands...”
They continued their conversation or an hour or so until Ranjian’s return.
“The gods smiled on me,” said the Chinese, dropping off half a dozen dead sables. “All my traps were full.”
Ardan decided they would leave the next day, and spent the rest of the afternoon helping Ranjian reset his traps.
At nightfall, they were preparing to have their evening meal when, suddenly, they saw, through the window some suspicious lights moving about in the darkness outside.
“They could be bandits after my gin-seng,” whispered Ranjian.
“Or Kyzyl Kaya’s men,” said Ardan. “I think we should grab our guns and...”
Before he could finish his sentence, two gun shots broke the silence of the night and two bullets came crashing into the door, just above their heads.
Immediately, Ranjian went to smother the fire and darkness fell inside the lodge.
The Chinese man went to the only other small window of the lodge—and peered into the darkness.
“I was right, They’re Kunghuz bandits. But we can defend ourselves...”
Suleyma had gotten up, grabbed a rifle and stood near Ardan who was taking careful aim at a Kunghuz who was crawling towards the door.
The young man fired his gun and the man fell.
Ranjian also took a shot, and a scream in the night told them that he, too, had hit his target.
But the Kunghuz were too many, and despite a few more losses, enough of them reached the shed where the horses were. There, they were out of the line of sight of the lodge’s defenders.
The bandits climbed on the roof and, in minutes, they had managed to dislodge two pieces of wood and jump inside the lodge.
They rushed the three defenders with savage cries of triumph and, despite Ardan’s desperate defense, using his rifle like a club, they soon had them tied like hogs.
“Ah! Ranjian!” said the man who was clearly the leader. “We have long searched for you, and you have always succeeded in escaping us before, but now, at last you’re ours. You’re going to tell us where you’ve hidden your stock of gin-seng.”
“Please! All I have is in that box! I swear it’s the truth!”
The Kunghuz had seized the box, but Ranjian’s supply were depleted, having used some to help Suleyma and their horse, so they were both angry and disappointed.
“You lie, old man!” roared the leader. “You must have more, hidden nearby.”
“No! I swear! All I have is in that box!”
“He’s telling the truth,” Ardan tried to say, but he got rebuffed by a heavy slap on his face.
“Silence, slave. You are lucky we have other plans for you and your lovely companion. But even if you speak the truth, the Old Man must pay for the brothers he killed tonight.”
The Kunghuz leader spat a few orders and his men took Ranjian, lifted him up, and hung him upside down from one of the rafters. While the old man was begging for mercy, they gathered a bunch of dried grass and set a fire just below him.
Ranjian’s cries for mercy turned into pitiful, horrible screams of agony as the flames leaped up and licked his face.
Ardan was aghast, terrified by the Kunghuz’s naked savagery, and enraged by his impotence to do anything to rescue their benefactor.
Meanwhile, the bandits laughed and mocked the Chinese’s horrible suffering.
After an eternity of pain, the fire died down. The Kunghuz took down Ranjian, threw boiling water over his body, cut off his tongue, and let him expire in unbearable agony.
Ardan threw up and, mercifully, Suleyma had already fainted before she could watch Ranjian’s final moments.
“Let that be a warning to you, slaves,” said the leader. Then, he turned towards his men and added: “We may not have found much gin-seng tonight, but these two will fetch a good price. And there are fewer of us to share it!”
CHAPTER XIII
In the Clutches of the Cheka
At dawn, the Kunghuz headed northward.
They crossed a thickening forest, deep woods scarred by the occasional remains of prospecting operations for gold and other metals.
Tied to his horse, Ardan remembered that the Russians had used convict labor transported from the deadly penitentiary of Sakhaline as forced labor in the local mines. The few who had managed to escape the agonizing work of the mines often lived a miserable, hunted life in small burrows they dug in the woods
He turned his head to see Suleyma, also tied to a horse, riding beside him, her face filled with apathy and gloom.
Suddenly, the young man heard a gunshot and, ahead of him, the Kunghuz leader collapsed and fell to the ground.
A dozen more shots rang out before the Kunghuz realized they’d fallen into a trap and attempted to regroup to defend themselves. But they soon realized that they were surrounded by their invisible enemy.
“Throw down your weapons!” shouted a voice.
The surviving Kunghuz rushed to obey. They had identified their attackers as one of the merciless gangs of Cossack rovers used by the Russian overlords to hunt and capture the escaped laborers.
“You’re bandit scum who steal our prey and go and sell them as slaves elsewhere,” said the leader of the Cossacks. “We’re going to teach you a lesson. Tie them to the trees, and make sure they can’t escape,” he then instructed his men.
This was a terrible punishment for the Kunghuz—virtually a death sentence, as they were almost certain to die under some wild beast’s fangs or claws.
The leader then turned to examine Ardan and his companion.
“You’re not Russians?” he asked.
“No,” replied the young man. “I am a French explorer, and my companion is a Tartar.”
The leader cut the bonds that held the two prisoners, and they were at last able to stretch their arms.
“I’m not planning to harm you and wish you no ill will,” said the Cossack. “But this is Russian territory, and I must learn what you are doing in this region.”
Ardan decided not to mention his search for, and escape from, Kyzyl Kaya, suspecting that the Red Wizard may have allied himself with the Russians.
“I was conducting a geological survey of the copper lodes in the area,” he explained, “and I hired this young woman to be my companion and my guide.”
“I see. Did you have a proper authorization from Russian officials to do so?”
“I’m afraid not. But my original mission was much further south—outside of Russian territory altogether. It is only because we were captured by the Kunghuz that we are here. If you let us go...”
The Cossack laughed.
“No, no, no, Mr. Frenchman. I suspect that you are lying to me. You were trying to steal some of Mother Russia’s precious minerals to enrich your capitalist friends, and thought that no one would be the wiser, because of the isolation of this district. And I’d bet that you weren’t just after copper, but gold too...”
“No,” said Ardan. “You’re wrong. I swear it!”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. But we’ve gotten rid of parasites like you in Russia, and we’re not going to tolerate them encroaching upon our borders. Let me tell you who I am: My name is Alexandroff. I was sent here twenty years ago, after having been arrested and de
ported by the Tsar’s police for a peccadillo. Most prisoners were meant to die in the mines, killed either by the hellish weather or by the unbearable working conditions, but I survived. When the Bolsheviks took power in Moscow, I saw an opportunity to get my freedom and take revenge on all those who had wronged me. I rose in power and became a powerful member of the Cheka.3 My boss will decide your fate.”
“Do what you will with me,” said Ardan, “but Suleyma—that’s my companion’s name—is innocent.”
“We shall see.”
They then proceeded to ride north for two hours, until they reached a natural canyon, the two extremities of which had been fortified to turn it into a secured camp.
There, Ardan and Suleyma were taken to a cave dug inside the cliff side, blocked by a strong metal door, and locked up.
Alexandroff ordered one of his men to stand outside and went away.
“With the Kunghuz, we risked being sold into slavery,” said Ardan, bitterly. “But now we’re in the hands of the Bolsheviks. I don’t know which is worse.”
“Perhaps we’ll find a way to escape?” said the young woman.
“We’d better. These are hardened criminals, with military discipline inherited from Tsarist forces. They’ll be a tough nut to crack. However, Alexandroff will wait for a decision from his bosses, so there might be an opportunity there. It’s up to us not to miss it.”
Having spent a very bad night the day before, they decided to rest.
Ardan woke up suddenly. It was dark outside; night had fallen. What had awakened him was his preternatural sense of being observed. Indeed, a man had just walked into the cave, holding a small lantern. He was small and thin, and Ardan remembered having seen him amongst Alexandroff’s men earlier.
“I’m here to help you escape,” whispered the newcomer. “You’re a French scientist, not an enemy of Russia. And I hate the Bolsheviks!”
“But if we go, they’ll shoot you—or worse,” said the young man.
“No, because I’ll go with you,” replied the Russian.