by Jeff Stone
“Think again,” said a new voice from behind the stable. Long looked over to see a young man step around the corner carrying a pistol in one hand and a pair of glowing blacksmith tongs in the other. He dropped the tongs in the sand and positioned himself so that the man in the stable could not shoot or even see him, but he still had an easy shot at the weaponless attacker.
The weaponless attacker swallowed hard and called out to his companion inside the stable, “It’s the apprentice and he’s got a pistol aimed at my head. Do as he says. That horse is not worth dying for.”
The man inside the stable cursed and returned his pistol to the saddlebag. He tied the bag closed and looked at DingXiang. “Satisfied?”
“I will be satisfied when the two of you leave. Take your horses and do not return.”
Both did as directed. They climbed onto their horses and left, the disarmed man not even bothering to ask for his sword back.
The apprentice stepped forward from the rear of the stable. Long saw that he was about seventeen years old.
Long bowed to him and to DingXiang. “Thank you both,” he said. “I feel like I should repay you somehow.”
“It was nothing,” DingXiang said. “Unfortunately, these events occur often out here. One must accept it as a normal part of life. I see you have a Heavenly Horse. Is it one of Cang’s? GuangZe, perhaps?”
“It is GuangZe.”
“A very fine horse. I suppose you are in need of some shoes for him?”
“That will be up to you, sir. I am traveling to Tun-huang.”
“Of course you are. Why else would you bother to stop here? Have you selected a route yet?”
“I have a map.”
“Well, let’s take a look. What we put on the horse’s hooves, if anything, will be dictated by the surfaces you will travel over. From here, it looks like there is nothing but sand out there forever, but once you travel west a few hours, you will begin to see rock formations. I hope your map is a good one. By good, I mean recent.”
“Why?”
“There have been a number of rock slides out there lately. Some of the passes are now blocked. My apprentice here knows the most about them. He gets updates from travelers who stop in here. Show him what you have.”
Long walked over to GuangZe, impressed that the horse had remained more or less calm this entire time. He removed the map from his saddlebag and handed it to the apprentice.
“Interesting choice,” the apprentice said. “This route is seldom used, but as far as I know it is still open. You should not have any problems.”
“What about horseshoes?” Long asked.
DingXiang looked at the map again. “I recommend removable hoof boots instead of fixed metal horseshoes. Your route is mostly sand. Sand can wreak havoc in a freshly shod hoof if it gets beneath the shoes. Hoof boots will give your horse protection over the rocks, but you can remove them when you pass through sand.”
“I have never heard of hoof boots.”
“People were using them a thousand years before metal shoes,” Cang said. “They are still quite common out here. They are made of leather and cloth, and secured with ties. Simple yet effective. They are custom-made for each hoof, but I can have a set for you first thing tomorrow. Enjoy a good night’s rest at my inn, free of charge. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you could do with a proper pair of riding pants. We appear to be roughly the same size. I will find you some.”
Long bowed. “You are too kind. Thank you. I still feel like I should repay you somehow.”
The apprentice grinned and nodded toward the foreigner’s curved sword, lying on the ground. “If you feel that strongly about the need to repay us—or at least repay me—you could let me keep that sword. It does not appear to have been made in China, and I would enjoy examining its construction.”
“My pleasure,” Long said. He walked over and picked up the sword, unwrapping the cord and counter weight from the hilt. “Sorry about your door,” he said. “Allow me to fix it.”
“You will do nothing but rest while you are here,” DingXiang said. “My word on that is final.”
Long nodded his thanks and looked the sword over, running his finger across a large, fresh nick in the blade. He turned to the apprentice. “The iron counterweight seems to have damaged the sword in this spot.”
“So much the better,” the apprentice said. “A notch like that should reveal the folded layers of metal within. I am eager to examine it, but I must take this horse out for some exercise first.” He took the sword from Long and gave his own bow of thanks. Then he untethered and climbed atop the remaining Mongolian horse in the stable and rode off with a big wave and an even bigger smile.
“I had better get to work,” DingXiang said. “For what it is worth, Warlord Xie stopped here a few weeks ago and told me to expect you. I did not want to say anything in front of my apprentice because it is none of his business. I want you to know that I have great respect for what you are doing. Now go inside and get as much rest as you can. You are going to need it.”
Long woke the next morning feeling rested. He ate a quick breakfast, changed into a pair of heavy cloth riding pants, and followed DingXiang outside to receive instructions on how and when to use GuangZe’s custom hoof boots. GuangZe was very accommodating, and within half an hour the lesson was over. Long slipped the boots into his saddlebag, waved goodbye to DingXiang, and rode into the Gobi’s seemingly endless sea of half-frozen sand.
GuangZe’s hooves sank deeply into the shifting sands. The poor animal had to work several times harder than normal for every step he took. Long was happy to see that the sand did not deter the horse, but it did make GuangZe wary, and he changed his gait considerably. Between the shifting sand and his new pants, Long felt like he was learning to ride all over again.
After half a day, Long was finally getting used to the new riding motions when the terrain began to change. The ground beneath GuangZe grew firm, and massive rock beds rose ahead of them out of the sand. Long stopped to put on GuangZe’s hoof boots, drink some water from his water skins, and check his map.
The map included crude sketches of major rock formations to serve as reference points, and Long felt fortunate that even after the recent rock slides, he was able to figure out where he was. Up to this point, he had been attempting to ride due west, using the sun as his only compass point. Judging from the map, he had veered a fair amount to the north. This turned out to be just fine, because north was the direction of the pass he was supposed to take through the rocks.
He saw the pass less than half a li away and grinned. Though the deep sand was slowing them down, they were still making excellent time. By his calculation, they would reach Tunhuang in three days or less. He had more than enough food and water to get him there, and the fur-lined coat and hat NgGung had given him were doing an admirable job of keeping the cold at bay.
He reached the pass and was relieved to find that it was open, as DingXiang’s apprentice had said. Strangely enough, once they were between the towering boulders, Long’s dan tien began to warm. He halted the horse and looked all around, but saw nothing.
Then he looked up.
A large man dressed head to toe in black dropped a net over Long. The net was ringed with rocks, and it pressed down on him with incredible force. It was difficult for Long to raise his arms, and nearly impossible to raise his head in order to see straight.
GuangZe stamped his hooves nervously, but to his credit stood his ground. Long heard horses’ hooves pounding against the rocky ground around a bend ahead, and he fought to free himself. It was no use. The more he struggled, the worse he got tangled in the coarse webbing. He realized that GuangZe’s head and legs were unobstructed, so he squeezed his thighs to get the horse moving and steered it back out of the pass, onto the sand.
Long fought gravity, motion, and the ever-shifting sand itself to remain balanced atop GuangZe as his mind raced for a solution. Then he remembered the knife NgGung had given him.
Long managed to wriggle his right hand free of his heavy glove, and he reached behind his sash with two fingers, pulling the small knife from its sheath. It was amazingly sharp, and he made quick work of the webbing. He sliced enough of the net away to free his arms and head, then he resheathed the knife, gripped the reins tightly, and squeezed his thighs together a second time.
GuangZe began to gallop away from the pass, and whoever was on those other horses had not made it out of the rocks yet. Long thought he was doing well until he heard a strange, drawn-out bellowing, and an arrow zipped past his ear. He glanced over his shoulder to see two black-turbaned archers on horseback clear the pass and come at him from his left flank. A third man cleared the pass and came at him from the right, only this man sat high atop a double-humped luotuo. A camel!
A second arrow whizzed past Long’s head. The archers were on stout, stubby-legged Mongolian horses, which Long knew were relatively slow on normal ground but appeared to be better adapted to running through the sand than GuangZe. GuangZe was now wearing the hoof boots, which had filled with sand and were making it difficult for him to keep in a straight line. The two horsemen were gaining on him.
As for the camel, it was faster still. Its gigantic foot pads spread its weight over a much greater surface than the horses’ hooves, and it loped effortlessly after him, complaining loudly as its rider swayed wildly back and forth atop it like Malao atop the mast of Charles’ sloop. The camel rider was the one who had dropped the net, and he had a large musket slung across his back. Fortunately, he was moving around so much there was no way that he would be able to unsling it, let alone fire it accurately.
A third arrow zinged past Long’s left shoulder, and one of the archers called out, “Stop! These are only warning shots. Give us your horse and we will leave you with your life. Attempt to flee and we will hunt you down!”
Long was not about to stop for anyone. He looked back over his right shoulder and was shocked to see the camel nearly upon him. More surprising, the rider was now standing precariously between the camel’s massive humps. The fool was going to jump! Long’s eyes widened and he steered GuangZe away from the camel, but it was too late. The camel rider leaped through the air, his shoulder hitting Long square in the back.
Long sailed off his horse into the cold sand; the man landed on one side of him, and Long’s water skins slipped off the horse to the other side. The sand was deep here, and it softened Long’s fall. He heard the camel scream and caught a glimpse of the beast tumbling end over end. The force of the man’s jump must have caused it to stumble.
Long looked over and saw that GuangZe had stopped.
The camel rider shouted beside him, and Long turned to see him staggering to his feet while reaching behind his back for his musket.
“I don’t think so,” Long hissed. He jumped to his feet and spun toward the man, snapping his fist outward and catching the camel rider on the chin. The man went down hard on his backside and Long leaped at him, but the man was still alert enough to turn away so that Long ended up landing on his back. Long ripped the musket from his attacker’s sling and stood, backing away.
“Face me,” Long commanded, and he heard a shrill whistle.
Long risked a glance in the direction of the sound and saw that one of the mounted archers had stopped roughly thirty paces from him with his bow drawn and an arrow nocked. The arrow was aimed directly at Long. Long glanced over at GuangZe and saw the second mounted archer take the horse by the reins and begin to lead him toward the first archer. GuangZe went along without a fuss, and Long’s heart sank.
As the rush of battle began to wear off, Long noticed something else. There was a pain-filled bellowing in the frigid afternoon air. He looked over at the camel and saw that it was trying to stand, but it kept falling over because one of its front legs no longer worked. The leg dangled limply from its shoulder, obviously broken.
Long lowered the musket. He wasn’t sure who he felt sorrier for, the camel or himself.
The camel rider took a step toward him, and Long raised the musket once more. “Keep your distance,” he said.
“If you kill me,” the camel rider replied, “my friends will kill you.”
Long thought back to the standoff the night before. He looked at the man who held GuangZe’s reins and saw a scabbardless curved sword dangling at the man’s side. Long could clearly make out a large nick in the blade.
Long scowled at the man. “You tried to steal my horse last night! You must be working with Ding-Xiang’s apprentice. That is how you knew to ambush me in this particular pass.”
The archer with the nicked sword laughed and tied GuangZe’s reins to his own horse’s saddle. “You should have sold me your horse last night,” he said. “Consider yourself fortunate to have lived this long. We would have killed you last night, had DingXiang not arrived. That apprentice of his would sell his own mother for a few taels of silver.”
Long heard a noise behind him and turned his head. The camel rider was beginning to circle.
“You have no intentions of letting me live, do you?” Long asked.
“Not anymore,” the camel rider replied. “Not knowing the truth about DingXiang’s apprentice. The young man is too valuable to us.”
Long shook his head. “That is what I thought. I am sorry.” He turned the musket toward the archer with the drawn bow and fired.
The barrel erupted with a terrific BOOM!, the musket ball flying true. It passed clean through the first archer’s chest. The man dropped out of his saddle, but not before releasing his arrow. Long heard a quick buzz rush past him and a sickening thwack!
Long turned to see the arrow shaft protruding from the camel rider’s right ear. The man fell, stone dead.
GuangZe whinnied and snorted loudly, and Long heard the second archer curse. Long remembered that Cang had said that GuangZe was afraid of loud noises.
Long spun around to see GuangZe rear up. He pawed at the air with his booted front hooves and shook his head from side to side, trying to free his reins from the second archer’s saddle. The saddle rocked wildly, and the man was thrown to the ground.
GuangZe decided to run. The second archer’s horse had no choice but to go with him. Both horses disappeared into the pass, tied together.
As Long turned to watch them go, he heard a second thwack! and felt white-hot pain sear his side. He glanced down at the right edge of his abdomen, amazed to see a bloody wooden shaft tipped by an arrowhead protruding through the front of his coat. He looked over his right shoulder and saw the arrow’s fletching flapping in the breeze behind him.
Long was unsure what to do. The arrow wound hurt more than any of his previous injuries but did not appear to be bleeding too badly.
The second archer reached for his quiver, and Long recovered his wits. He was not about to let that man skewer him again. He reached into his sash and grabbed the knife, ignoring the violent surges of pain that racked his torso. As the archer nocked another arrow, Long snapped his right hand back and then forward, sending the knife through the air and deep into the man’s throat.
The second archer dropped, dead as the first archer and the camel rider.
Long was determined to not have his life end here in the desert. He needed to get moving, but he also needed to do something about his new injury. He knew better than to pull the arrow out and open the wound. The arrow was serving as a plug. However, if he was to travel, he had to take care of the long shaft sticking out from either side of him.
While he still had his strength, Long grasped the arrow with both hands and snapped off the arrowhead in front of him. Then he took a deep breath, grasped the fletching, and snapped the tail off the arrow behind him.
Flashes of blinding light exploded behind Long’s eyes. He staggered and fell to the sand. He forced himself to roll onto his left side in order to try to lift the right half of his coat and robe to better assess the damage done to his body.
Long managed to lift his jacket and robe up to h
is waist before he passed out from the pain.
Long woke many hours later and found himself still lying on his left side in the sand, his right hand clenching his jacket and robe. He groaned and sat up in the evening sun.
He looked down at his jacket, and, while it was bloody, he had expected it to be much worse. The pain in his side had subsided significantly as well. He lifted his jacket and robe and saw the broken arrow shaft in the far right side of his abdomen. He felt his back and found that the shaft had passed to the right of his right kidney, just below his rib cage.
He was fortunate. The arrow had missed his vital organs. It had not even cracked a single rib. It was a painful wound, to be sure, and he had bled a fair amount, but he would not die from the injury. He might, however, die from exposure. It was too late to attempt any more travel today, and he needed to find shelter.
Long glanced around and was pleased to at least see the first archer’s horse. It had walked over to the rocks and was using them as a shield against the cold wind. Best of all, it did not look like it had any intention of running off like the other two horses had.
Long pushed himself to his feet and staggered toward the stubby Mongolian horse. He remembered the attacker saying the previous night that his horses knew their way to Tunhuang blindfolded. Long hoped this was true. While it would certainly be a shorter journey for him to ride the horse back to DingXiang’s outpost, he was determined to complete his goal of meeting with Xie.
Long reached the horse and found it to be quite friendly. He led it to a rock outcropping that provided better protection and secured it. He was about to look for his water skins when he heard a low moan. It did not sound like anything he had ever heard before, and he remembered the camel. It was still alive.
Long frowned, hating what he had to do next. He checked the thief’s saddlebag and found the pistol that had been pointed at him the previous night. It was loaded with a single shot, and he used it to put the poor camel out of its misery.