Save the Last Bullet for God

by J. T. Alblood

  In one mistaken move, I stabbed the sword so deep between the neck and armor of a Chinese soldier that it got stuck. I put supported all my weight on my sword and used all my strength to lift myself, step onto the soldier, and then jump on the closest cavalryman. While gliding in the air, I grasped the back of the saddle with my free hand and swung my sword at the horseman’s neck. His head fell to the ground, and I yanked the cavalryman off of the horse and let the headless body fall.

  As I rode closer to my father, a few arrows glanced off my armor, and I escaped the weak sword blows of the infantrymen. A few horsemen came at me, but I raced past them as I watched my father cut down the riders nearest him. He stood upon stacks of corpses, but the crowd of enemy soldiers was only growing. The cavalrymen who had been protecting him were now all dead, and my father was standing alone on the battlefield.

  Time stopped.

  The distance was getting shorter but it also seemed to stretch on forever. I watched in horror as an arrow, shot from close distance, punctured my father’s armor. I screamed as if to tear my lungs out and then another blow pierced his foot. It seemed that I was too late. Had I given all this effort just so I could witness the end?

  Then I saw the wolf.

  It was making a path through the crowd, thrashing through those in front of him like they were stalks of wheat. For a moment, the wolf disappeared, and then it leapt in the air and landed on the shoulders of my father. He stumbled for a second but remained standing.

  With this living armor on his back, Genghis Khan plodded forward, slicing those in front of him as blood sprayed from the blows of swords and arrows, and his pale skin turned red. I headed toward my father, trampling the soldiers in front of me with my horse. I took my sword in my left hand and grabbed my father’s arm with my right, pulling him onto my horse. With my father in the saddle, I jumped down and smacked the horse on the rear to send it away. My father was carried safely away from the heart of the battle, but I didn’t watch him go. My eyes were fixed on the ground and on the bloody pelt curled up next to my feet.

  Time stopped once more and the world lost all meaning. Our rabid and bewildered enemy moved closer, but the only movement from me was from the growing knot in my throat as I gazed upon the remains of the wolf.

  The first sword blow skipped off my helmet and fell on my shoulder armor. I felt the blow, but it didn’t hurt. The next sword blows were supposed to kill me, but they couldn’t. I stood still, half on my knees, a bloody pelt underneath me, a knot in my throat, and steam in my eyes. The only thing protecting me were the movements of the soldiers around me as they stood in each other’s way.

  The sword in my hand should have fell, but it didn’t. Instead, the sword swung from side to side, its grip smashing the heads of the enemy. It didn’t feel like me. It was something I only witnessed. I stabbed everything in reach and wound the intestines out of someone’s abdomen and around their neck. I killed men with my bare hands and tore their faces with my bloody nails. I felt the warmth of the blood of the necks I ripped with my teeth.

  …

  Night was falling. As I, covered in blood, looked for more lives to take, someone grabbed me from behind and used his knee to bring me low. I would have beaten him, too, if I could have, but I was unable to move.

  “It’s over,” a familiar voice said. “Calm down!”

  It was Sobutay.

  “The fight ended hours ago,” he said, leaning over me, “but we couldn’t calm you down. You continued. I would have watched you with pleasure, but you began to attack our own soldiers.”

  I was so exhausted. If Sobutay hadn’t helped me stand, I would have probably slept among the dead. In the twilight, I gazed upon the endless corpse sea, the frozen mud of blood and intestines, the abandoned and dead horses, and the smoke of extinguished fires. It was like other battlefield scenes, with one difference: the lack of prisoners.

  I watched as bodies were piled and five hundred sacks were filled with the ears of the dead—200,000 in total, enough flesh and bone to cover the soil.

  When I arrived at the tent, the snow flurries and frost had already caused my wounds to form scabs. My armor was so shredded that snowflakes easily exploited the gaps and fell against my naked body. I groaned as the remains of my armor were removed and felt about to faint as I lay on the ground in the warm sent with servant girls and shamans beside me attending to my wounds.

  “You look much worse than the fur of your wolf. There is nowhere on you that isn’t torn,” the shaman said.

  Before he could say one more thing, I grabbed him by his hair and pressed his head to the ground. “How dare you?!” I hissed. “Now go and pray for the soul of the wolf, perform the ceremony, and bring me a piece of his fur. Then be out of my sight!”

  The shaman left the tent, silent except for the clatter of his bone and bead jewelry. Amidst the cold and quiet of the dark, the servant girls applied ointment and bandaged my wounds. I fell asleep shivering.

  …

  I woke up tired, hungry, and thirsty. The woman next to me told me I had been asleep for two days. Next to me were a few plates of half-consumed food and some cups of water. The servants must have made me eat. I looked around frantically and found what I was looking for. There it was! The piece of fur, about one-and-a-half hands wide, had been cleaned and now shined bluish-gray even in the dim light.

  The female caretaker called the guard and helped me dress quickly. After I exited the tent, I realized we had moved. Even though I was used to waking up in different seasons and places, I was still baffled by what I saw: a giant plain that dwarfed our endless tents and enormous army. In the middle of this plain was a magnificent stone wall reaching up to the sky and stretching toward the horizons, a wall made of fortresses and towers signifying the upper limit of civilization.

  I suddenly felt an inexplicable anger. It was an anger that cleared all my fatigue away. As memories briefly appeared, piece by piece, before again disappearing, my rage moved from my chest to my throat, and I reached my boiling point, ready to attack those around me.

  It was the sound of a small set of armor and footsteps that discouraged me. Suddenly, a little monster jumped on me and hugged me. It was my little brother, Tuluy, the young prince, greeting me with his childish excitement.

  “My brother…you scared us a lot. You’ve been unconscious for days, and I’ve listened to stories of your battle many times.”

  I removed his helmet (which was significantly bigger than his head) and tussled his pitch-black hair.

  “Tell me! Tell me a real story from a real hero!” he said, now jumping around me excitedly. “But tell me from the beginning!”

  “Alright! I will. I promise. But first, let me have a rest. When both of us are watching the stars, I’ll tell you everything by the warmth of the fire, I promise. Meanwhile, you can tell me what happened while I was asleep.”

  My brother bounced as he dragged me, not letting go of my hand.

  “At night, we stayed beside the battlefield,” he said. “There were sounds of jackals and wolves all night long; five hundred sacks of ears were collected. The sky was full of vultures in the morning, and it was always dark. Father said that he didn’t want any prisoners. There were a few anyway, and they ended up in pits. Before the corpses began to stink, we packed up the tents and set off. We rode with Uncle Hazar for two days without stopping. There were no trees. It was all plain and green.”

  He continued. “All the villages we passed by were empty. We plundered as many supplies and spoils from the villages as possible, and we set fire to each place just before we left. In the distance, we saw the villagers trying to run away. Uncle Hazar sent the cavalry to kill them and plunder their supplies.”

  Tuluy saw me gazing on the walls of the fortress. “We’ve been here for two days,” he said. “Such an enormous fortress, isn’t it? They say it is the only one of its kind in the world. It’s as tall as twenty men. On the first day, we carried out a small attack to test its shooting ra
nge. Their archers are weak, but there are machines on the towers that shoot arrows so big, you wouldn’t believe it. Thick spears as tall as two men! They’re so strong, they can even kill a man with their wind.”

  “Then...then...,” Tuluy went on excitedly, “Father sent a messenger and told them if they surrendered, he wouldn’t kill anyone. He had the white tent pitched near the door of the fortress where everyone could see. But, as you know, when the tent becomes black, there is no forgiveness. Our soldiers are already digging to find the enemy’s water supply. Father said if we don’t run into difficulty, we can poison it.”

  “How long would a fortress without an army stand anyway, brother?” he asked. “Do you think people would come for help? This fortress has never fallen and has never been defeated. We might be here for months. No one has dared to lay a siege for such a long time, not since the time of the father’s great grandfather.”

  “How can these people live in such a closed place without moving in the wide plains—without changing places?” he asked. “How can they find fresh pasture without searching? If you stay in the same place, your enemies can find you. You can’t even run away. You can’t take those big houses and big walls with you. When you run away, you leave everything behind, right, brother? Can you believe that they don’t even have tents? Everything is made of stone. They don’t move. They are so strange, aren’t they? They live so differently. There must be no wind behind those walls; they must not be able to breathe.”

  Half-listening to my brother and without interrupting his monologue, I walked toward the tent of the Khan accompanied by the awed gazes of others. All who saw us lowered their heads in greeting, but I looked at no one and pretended to give all my attention to my brother.

  My elder brother, Ögheday, came out of the tent and headed toward me. When the future Khan stood in front of me, he put his hand on my shoulder and asked me with a timid and insincere voice, “Brother, how are you?”

  “As you see,” I said, slowly slipping away from the hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m really sorry about the wolf,” he said. “I know how precious it was to you.”

  He seemed sincere when he said it, but he must have known that what he had just said would be the beginning of his end. Tuluy came closer to me and held my hand tight, discouraging me from retaliating.

  Staring at Ogheday, my hand unconsciously moved toward the piece of fur on my waist. I stopped myself, lifted my head, and moved toward the door of the tent.

  On the far side of the giant tent, my father sat in the middle of a few commanders who were deep in discussion. However, when I entered, they stopped talking and turned my way, and my father stood up and headed toward me, his face bright.

  My father hugged me tight, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He didn’t say anything, but his gesture still meant a lot. I hesitantly brought my hands up to return his embrace and we stayed like that for a while. When we pulled away, my father sent everyone away with his sharp gaze.

  We were alone, and it was calm inside except for the sound of the wind whipping against the tent. My father silently took his place, and I quickly sat down beside him.

  He caressed the bandaged wound on his leg as he spoke. “I’ve seen many wars,” he said. “I’ve fought countless battles. I’ve been close to death many times, but this is the first time that I truly believed I would die.”

  I began to reply, but he gently silenced me and continued. “Maybe not the first time. Still, I was about to send regrets of what I’ve done to the Tengri. It is said that I am only scared of dogs, you know, but I think this time, I was also scared of death.”

  His smile was sincere as he talked, but still, he watched me. He realized that anything he said about dogs might be misunderstood. When he got a forced smile from me, he went on.

  “I’m truly sorry for your wolf sacrificing itself for me like that. His warmth and closeness when he jumped on my back gave me strength. I suddenly rediscovered my confidence among my enemies. But…I suppose we don’t want to reopen that wound. We both know that the tie between the two of us is beyond our blood and beyond words. You are one of the rare people that I trust on the battlefield.”

  “Father, there is no need to explain. You are the ruler of everything between two seas. That includes our lives. I know you don’t love me, and I accept that. But I also know you respect me. This is enough for me. You have more important duties than defining the fate of the Mongolian nation. I believe there is something beyond our nation’s glory, although I can’t say for sure what it is. I don’t know whether even history will know…”

  After a short period of silence, I stared at him and continued. “Since I was born, I’ve been with you, whether you wanted it that way or not, but I feel that in the near future, our paths will separate, and for the first time, I will ask you for something.”

  I realized that as I spoke, I had turned my eyes to the ground, and my hand had moved involuntarily to the fur under my belt.

  My father remained still but looked slightly confused. “Except for the throne, you can ask for whatever you want,” he said in a sharp, confident voice. “Including my life.”

  “No matter what people say,” he continued, “my thoughts will not change. You are the eldest son of Börte, the only woman that I love, and I know you as my son. There is nothing else. But, like everyone else, I also know you are different, and you are a guest among us. I understand that there are things beyond my mind that are only known by Tengri, and I accept it. I am responsible for those who live on this Earth. The rest is beyond me.”

  “There are a thousand nations, a thousand religions,” he went on. “Even the Chinese, on whose doorstep we stand, have a religion, and I stand at the same distance from all of them. I do not understand them, but I do not believe they are an obstacle. I kill someone if I have to, but I don’t decide to which God his soul goes.”

  “Father, that is not the issue. Just know that I am with you, and I am in your service. But no matter what, when the right time comes—if it comes—help me. Do not refuse me. That’s my only wish.”

  “My son, consider it granted,” he replied.

  I hadn’t heard the word “son” for a long time. I didn’t want to prolong the conversation or get emotional, so I stood up, said farewell, and rapidly exited the tent.

  …

  The siege was long. From time to time, we made weak attempts to attack, but mostly we waited. We, the wolves, waited in ambush with patience and caution; they, the ones on the peak of civilization, waited with fear and impatience. As time passed, they ran low on supplies and hope. Sometimes, we also lost hope, but we kept waiting as the despair of those locked inside the walls increased. They ran out of water, and we received news that they had begun to kill each other for rainwater. They ran out of supplies, and cannibalism became a common practice. The worst was the morning: an increasing number of people decided not to endure hopelessness and did not to want to become food for others, so they let themselves fall from the walls. Sometimes soldiers, sometimes civilians. No matter. All fell at the same speed.

  The tent at the door of the fortress had now been black for a long time, and, for those in despair, it was an incubus. Death would be upon those who couldn’t get help from the outside. But how much pain awaited them was uncertain.

  One evening, just before sundown, hundreds of young women in white dresses appeared along the top of the walls of the fortress. They stood in silence for a moment and then, in what resembled a ritual, let themselves fall. We didn’t understand the meaning and I confess we weren’t affected much. We merely watched as the white gowns fluttered in the air and piled like bloody broken snow on the grass below.

  …

  The seasons changed and the horses were sent to faraway meadows to pasture. The soldiers and those who weren’t used to living in the same place for a long time were restless and tired of waiting. We were ready to leave and move on as soon as possible. Finally, the little emperor of the civilizati
on behind the walls surrendered the fortress and accepted our terms.

  My father accepted ownership of the fortress on condition that the emperor and his followers left. Beijing had fallen. The greatest civilization was at our feet. We wouldn’t kill anyone. We would only plunder and tax the locals. At night, the emperor and his inner circle left the fortress with a caravan under our escort. The soldiers threw their weapons over the walls, an activity that lasted all night. In the morning, the doors were wide open.

  When we entered the fortress, we saw enormously complex paths, passages, tunnels, overlapping houses, and a lot of vehicles and buildings that we didn’t understand. The channels had obviously been full of water, and now were dry lakes. The stifled air, the crowds, and the smell of rotting carcasses was suffocating. I couldn’t stay there for long. However, others plundered with passion for two days and nights, exacting their revenge for the long wait they had endured.

  …

  After growing bored with harvesting spoils, everyone gathered, and we prepared to set off again. On the morning of our departure, my father made a surprising announcement.

  “Money and spoils. What are these? They were too late. The black tent had been raised. Raze everything to the ground. Sever every head. Not even a single cat shall stay alive.”

  The soldiers executed the orders without question. It took two days to end the lives of those in the fortress. No one escaped, and there were no witnesses. The streets filled with corpses, and the empty channels overflowed with blood. When we left, over half a million were dead.

  Cuci

  When does a man know that he exists? How long is he aware of that existence? I think the answer is always the same: You exist from the time you notice your first moment. Your brain doesn’t belong to you before you experience your first moment, and you don’t own yourself. In order to have individuality, you must have your own memories.