The Silk Road Saga: Part I - Silkworm

23 - First Blood

In the distance Yue could hear the ring of steel on steel. The shouts of men dying. The unearthly scream of wounded horses. The clamour of battle. He furiously paced up and down the tent. Mechanically looking at his broken watch. Hours must have passed, or perhaps only minutes, Yue couldn't tell. All he knew was that if he waited inside this tent for a moment longer, he was liable to go mad. Erhi was out there, fighting for her life. Right know she could be hurt, or worse. No, Yue couldn't let himself think like that. Why did he even care about her? He couldn't shake that look that she' d given him just before departing. He exhaled and closed his eyes. Erhi would be fine. She was a Mongol, a fierce warrior. But try as he might, Yue couldn't' shake the feeling that she needed his help. He checked his watch once more. The hand was still stuck at midnight.

"Dammit" muttered Yue.

His mind made up, he put on his boots and strode out of the tent. Outside, the camp was chaos. Wounded warriors, escaped from the battlefield, lay draped over their mares. Riderless horses wandered around aimlessly, searching for their lost masters. The salty tang of blood filled the air and Yue tightened his grip on the knife that Erhi had left him. He stepped aside as a horse, blinded in one eye, cantered past him.

Yue threaded his way between the tents, taking care to avoid people whenever he saw them. He remembered Erhi's warning that the camp could be just as dangerous as the battlefield, especially for a young Chinese boy. When he reached the edge of the camp, he spotted a group of riders approaching. Their horses were taller than Mongol mares and their outfits were elaborate, with tall red plumes. It was the enemy. They must have come to raid the camp for plunder.

They passed a solitary Mongol, who was using his spear as a crutch. He tried to defend himself, but it was no use. The riders skirted around him and slashed at his back. The Mongol fell to the ground and the lead rider dismounted and knelt down beside him. When he stood up again, he held aloft the Mongol's severed head. He showed it to his companions, who laughed, then he put it inside his saddle bag, a spoil of war.

Yue felt something warm trickle down the inside of his leg. It dribbled out of his trouser and stained the snow yellow. He'd just pissed himself. Without thinking he dived inside the nearest tent. There was nowhere else to hide. Luckily for Yue the tent was empty. It smelt filthy compared to Erhi's tent, but Yue didn't care about that right now. He cast around, looking for a weapon that was more threatening than the knife that Erhi had left him. But Yue was out of luck, the tent was empty. He froze at the sound of approaching hooves. He held his breath, hoping that the enemy scouts would pass him by, but he was out of luck. The riders came to a halt and dismounted, their swords jangling against their armour. Yue could make out their shadows on the canvas and he lay down on the floor, in case his outline was visible from outside.

He listened as the enemy crunched through the snow. They paused near his tent, breathing hard, their plumes casting long shadows. He heard the sound of canvas being sheared open with a blade, followed by a burst of disgruntled chatter. There was little booty to be found in the Mongol camp. The footsteps drew closer and Yue readied himself, his heart hammering tight inside his chest. A large shadow appeared on the side of the tent and suddenly the canvas split open above Yue's head. One fold peeled away and draped itself over Yue's body, hiding him from view. The shadow stepped through the hole in the canvas and entered the tent. Yue could only make out his boots. He held the knife close to his chest and prayed that the man would leave the tent. There was nothing of value here, nothing worth stealing.

The man turned around and was about to step outside when he came to a halt. Yue heard him sniffing the air, like a hunting dog. The smell of piss filled Yue's nostrils. The man continued to sniff the air and shuffled towards where Yue was hiding. Betrayed by his bladder and out of options, Yue attacked. He sprung from his hiding place like a caged animal, wildly stabbing at the man's foot. He stuck the dagger through the top of his boot and the man toppled over. But Yue didn't stop. A sort of crazed fear descended over him and he grabbed the dagger with both hands and straddled the fallen enemy. He blindly thrust the blade downwards, stabbing at his arms, his neck, his torso, and his face. Yue didn't know what he was aiming at, but he continued stabbing until the body stopped moving. Then he rolled away and lay on his back panting. Next to him, the body of the enemy was motionless, his face an unrecognisable mess of gore. Yue let out a ragged shout. He had fought and he had won. He was alive. A shadow fell over his prostate body. Somebody else had entered the tent. In his frenzy, he had completely forgotten about the other enemy scouts. Well, thought Yue, I guess this is the end.