Bridge Across the Land

by Yvonne Wang

  “Father, Your Majesty—” Just then a pair of short boots with pointed toes step inside quickly. Prince Alexander enters with long strides. He has already removed the attendant’s outfit and changed into the expensive clothing of royalty. He behaves like an elite and has a cloak hanging from his shoulders. He wears pins that are decorated with gems and an opal belt that ties his shirt, top material and intricately made.

  “What happened?” King saw how anxious he was.

  Alexander bows down and says, “Your Majesty, a team of equestrians abducted a witch about to be burned at the stake at Moore Square. From the looks of them, they are all Mongols!”

  Boleslav’s heart skips a beat. He sits up stiffly. Other military officers are making a buzz all of a sudden. Boruc turns around to ask, “Strange, why do they want to kidnap a witch?”

  “Um . . .” His hands are still tied and he is strictly escorted, but Valentin queries, “Is the woman seized someone with one dark brown eye and one blue eye?”

  “Huh?” The prince was stunned, “Yeah . . . Her name is . . . Angela.” Reminded of his true love, he could not help but be sad.

  “That’s right, Your Majesty,” Valentin proclaims loudly to the king: “This Angela must be a princess of Mongolia, the illegitimate daughter between Ögedei Khan and an East Rus’ woman. Earlier, Baidar had dispatched four cavalry scouts to find her and bring her back to Mongolia.”

  “Princess . . .” The puzzle is unexpectedly solved. Alexander immediately goes to pieces; he is clutching his fists and breathing with difficulty. Originally he hoped that she would be ecstatic to learn about his identity. Originally he thought that being a proud royal prince, he could only love her for a short time. Who would have thought she actually turned out to be royalty, but the darling of the enemy country. Impermanence and the lack of conditions, they could only be enemies now.

  “Father,” Alexander grits his teeth and lifts his head resolutely, “I have sent Anthony to follow them and learn about their camp. Please give me an army so that I will capture them all!”

  The twinkling intersecting constellations decorate ink-like darkness and are inlaid in the sky. The silver bay in the horizon drips liquid fantasy. The bright moonlight filters through the bare winter branches and shines with an easy touch; it is secluded and peaceful.

  In the outer tent, Tianyin, Hesig and Wonbayer sit around with beef jerky and dry goods spread before them. They are eating the food with water. Suddenly, loud clanging and banging sound from inside. They only hear the princess call out indignantly, Kyrigu then slips out from the tent in a whoosh and a quandary.

  The young man’s pupils have no sparkle, completely unenthusiastic and hopeless. He complains to the three individuals, “No, I could not either. She would not let anyone near her.” He plops down and sets the utensils on the ground.

  Hesig strokes his beard slowly and sighs, “She was probably bullied growing up too, that is why she is hostile to all strangers.”

  “What do you mean ‘too’?” Kyrigu rips out a sliver of beef, rolls his huge eyes and yells.

  “Uh . . .” Hesig smiles without responding, peering at Tianyin next to him.

  Tianyin is silent. In short order, he picks up the food and stands up. As if riding on wind, his vigorous strides lead him inside the tent.

  A single candle burns and lights up the room dimly like a firefly. Angela is curled up and hugs her knees while on the mat. She is hiding in one corner, ignoring the blankets. Only her two large colored eyes glow a loneliness and dauntlessness, glaring vigilantly. She is caustically defensive, nervous and avoidant. Her brown hair is disheveled and her thin shirt leaves her arm bear so that her wound is especially visible. The only thing she is hanging on to for warmth is her satchel.

  The shutter lifts. The man wielding a sword in the day sneaks in like a ghost. His footsteps are noiseless; his face is devoid of expression and his charcoal eyes are deep and sleeted, mysterious and unfathomable. He searches and explores her for a while with his eyes. His upright body inches over. Angela cannot help but panic. She feels her small knife on her waist then crows, “Do not . . . Do not come over!”

  Tianyin does not stop. He heads straight for the mat. The candlelight reflected on a handsome face; cleansed of blood from battles, its features are fine. He lowers his head and eyes, picks up the beef jerky in the plate, grinding and chewing with movements of the jaws. He then takes a drink of the water in the cup. When he finished, he lightly places the rest next to Angela, looking at her.

  Is he trying to prove that the food is free of poison? Angela contracts her limbs and stitches her brows tight. Her hand still vigilantly hanging on to the dagger, then she says in Polish, “Let me go, where are you taking me? Let me out!”

  He cannot possibly understand. He stands up all of a sudden, tall like a tower, he turns around and walks away. Angela also pulls on the tent cloth and stands up. She knew early on that this man is the team leader, if she can—

  “Freeze!!” The steely knife blade at his throat, her pale hands are chilled to the bone but she is recharging her power. From behind him, she restrains Tianyin by the neck, the sharp blade next to his skin. Angela feels blood rushing to her head. She grits her teeth in a rage of determination and speaks with a deep breath and a shaking voice, “Have them let me go, otherwise I am going to cut your throat!”

  Tianyin remains calm and expressionless. He stands quietly and breathed steadily, despite her tighter and tighter grip.

  “Do not think I’m afraid of you. If you do not understand, I’ll cut you to show you!” Unexpected, her arm goes numb and is forced to release. Angela only sees the backside of him lean slightly and she is thrown back to the cushion with a gentle delivery. Her eyes are wide and in shock. She sees the man turn around and dark pupils glittering, move closer to her.

  All at once a rush of fear wells forth in Angela, her heart is pounding so fast she is about to explode. She raises her knife to defend against any threat, continually stumbling, shaking and backing up. She screams hoarsely, “Stay away from me otherwise I will stab you to death!”

  Tianyin is still indifferent as he locks his eyes on her precious weapon. Looking over the young lady, he scrutinizes her ragged sleeves, bare feet and exposed skin. He is about to remove his overcoat though he seems unfathomably emotionless. He is only one step away from her.

  “Go away—” Angela hates herself for not shouting Mongolian. Throbbing with fright and sadness, “I . . . I am really going to hurt you!”

  That demonic shadow came pressing down. With all the courage she can muster, she winced and screamed like mad, and in one fell swoop, stabs his left shoulder!

  Meanwhile, Tianyin kneels by the mat and puts the overcoat on her.

  Angela is astounded. A knife of crime and a warm coat, locked in time as these two people made their moves.

  “Um . . . .” The blade is halfway in. Bright red liquid infiltrates his white shirt, staining it maroon. Waves of pain spread so that Tianyin could not help but shake, looking at the handle of the knife, he breathe to sedate the pain that he is trying so hard to bear.

  A rouge river mixed with cold sweat drips and meanders down his clothes. Her wintry blade is gradually made warm by body temperature. Sticky blood makes her hand slippery. Angela loosens her grip rigidly. Paralyzed and fainthearted, she does not know what to do. Her blue and dark brown eyes stare dumbly.

  Tianyin retracts his arms from his overcoat, shaking slightly he presses his shoulder with one hand and holds the handle of the knife with the other. He gulps down saliva and pants heavily. He clamps his teeth together and knits his brows. Without warning, he pulls out the knife. Too quickly the muscles turn up and a warm liquid soaks him; the pain nearly makes him suffocate. He quietly pressurize his blood veins. With his free hand, he returns the knife to Angela completely intact.

  The young
woman takes the crime weapon from his palm mechanically and with a pale face.

  Tianyin stands up carefully, scarlet stains ripple over the only shirt that remains, a frightful sight. Without so much as a grunt, he walks out the tent.

  Angela wakes up forthwith, secretly full of guilt and regret.

  “Wait!” She immediately climbs up, rushes over to grab him.

  Tianyin does not understand but is forcefully pushed and pulled. In an blink of an eye, he is back on the mat with her. Angela is on her knees next to him. She opens up her bag. Once she tosses her miscellaneous thoughts, she works extremely fast. She pulls out a bandage. Restrained, quick and with no inhibitions, she rips his shirt with a hum.

  His injury exposed, a cool invades his suddenly bare chest and shoulders. Tianyin is at a loss.

  Focused and careful, she measures with her fingers the distance from the clavicle to the chest muscles. Aiming for the first rib, she presses down the subclavian veins with clean cloth so the river of blood stops instantly. She digs out a blackish and aromatic medicinal pill and stuffs it into his mouth without any discussion. Next she scrubs the wound with the water in the cup, chews the herbs well, then clothes the wound and finally binds it in place with bandages.

  Her fingers are clever, nimble, experienced and skillful; she handles the situation easily. Her right blue pupil and left black pupil look stubborn, cautious and focused, as if she were in control of birth and death.

  Abruptly, danger dissolves and pain is healed, blood stops and the wound is treated; a gauze seems to have cooled the burning pain. It was quite a relief. Tianyin only tastes a puckery scent in the essence of the medicinal pill on his lips. He looks over at the young woman and suspects, this is definitely not the kind of medical technique that should exist on the western continent!

  Bandages tied, the treacherous situation is under control. Angela relaxes and sits on the ground. When she looks up at him, she feels something strange. This man with dark brown eyes is tan and muscular, long black hair and refined features, level eyes and thin nose, completely different than men in Krakow. Looking closely, he really is classy and dashing. Where did he come from? When they fell off the horse, he made himself the cushion and just now lays an overcoat on her. Although he is inhibited, he must be a good person. But, why did he kidnap her?

  All is quiet in the dark of the night, a stay in the wilds is even more desolate. The moon’s reflection is projected onto the curtain, wind glides in and the shape of the trees cast shadows. People in the outer tent are in a deep slumber. But Angela wakes up all of a sudden and searches for the window with her eyes. She could not find any, no matter how hard she tries. She props herself up and looks around, she then recalls that she doesn’t need to get up in the dark of the night to make bread anymore. The empty tent is like a prison, the soft mat is stained with soil and an air of unfamiliarity whirls by. Her sense of loneliness that has existed in her 17 years of being on her own seems to be multiplying. She does not know where she will end up.

  At once, she realizes that she has to relieve herself. She climbs up and walks cautiously, quietly lifting the opening as if she were walking on ice or at the edge of a cliff. In the outer tent, Hesig, Wonbayer and Kyrigu are all asleep as if intoxicated, hanging on to their weapons and leaning on a post of the tent. Angela nervously walks out the tent on tiptoes. Unaware, a glacial airstream attacks her and she wraps Tianyin’s overcoat tight about her. She looks at the doleful and serene forest, the landscape is vast and the terrain is rough.

  A black shadow is guarding at the door, standing while cradling a sword. Angela breaks out in a sweat out of fear. She focuses and looks closely, it’s him. Draped in Hesig’s clothes, his head is down and his eyes are closed. He could actually sleep peacefully like this! As light shines on his face, his perspicacious brows and thin lips intimidate with his usual iron expression and icy air, even when sleeping. Sleep standing up while remaining alert, this guy is definitely not an ordinary person.

  She holds her breath and sneaks a couple more steps away from the tent. Before she turns around to look, she hears a sudden change in air pressure. Tianyin instantaneously opens his eyes and in a flash blocks her path. Intimidating and towering like the nebulous green mountains and cold like prickly frost, he stares sternly with his dark eyes. Angela timidly backs up, then catches a glimpse of the bandages at his shoulder and the overcoat on her; she gulps with reassurance and dismisses the foreboding. She tries to communicate.

  She rubs her stomach and points to the bushes afar. Looking sincerely and directly, Tianyin understands, hesitatingly he moves to let her pass. His sharp eyes monitoring Angela as she enters the wilderness; his watchful eyes never wavered.

  It isn’t until the young woman turns her head and glances that Tianyin turns his frost-bound face away, leaving only his brawny and linear backside facing her.

  Soon, Angela is relieved and stands up. Peering through the thick night, that glacial backside is still frigidly standing loyally at guard without trying to peek. Morbid darkness all around, the deep forest is soiled and mute, and there is no one around for miles on out. She looks about and afar, in a flash something clicked in her, this is an excellent opportunity to escape!

  Angela looks at Tianyin and scouts the mysterious forest. Ogling back and forth many times, she stoops like a cat and abates her breathing, hanging on to trees and stepping on grass, she runs off agilely and speedily. Though the wind blows and the moon is hidden, the road is blurry and her back nippy, she runs like mad, unwary as she falls and gets up. She moves forward courageously and with determination: her blood rushes, her breathing uneven and her ears hear only the beating of her heart and the fright in her soul. The night clouds retreat and the silent earth transforms.

  Who knows the length of time, but her legs are sore and she is out of breath when immediately, she sees on a path outside the forest gradually comes the sound of hooves mixed with familiar Polish. Angela dashes forth with excitement and joy, opening her arms and blocks them as she pants and perspires. That team of horsemen with armors and weapons halt to a stop; they are the royal light cavalry. She staggers up close and in shock, has her eyes wide open. She lifts her head and backs up— “A . . . . Alexander?”

  Alexander is leading from the front, sitting high on a saddle, “Angela!” He turns and gets off the seat. The girl grips firmly to his arms; strands of loose locks swaying, she urges, “Quick, take me away!”

  “. . .” The other party lowers his eyes and keeps his mouth shut. His hazel green eyes slide to one side, cold with a tinge of shame; his arms and shoulders droop callously.

  “What?” Angela feels she is falling over a cliff; her enthusiasm utterly dampened.

  Alexander looks back at her, speaking serious and slowly, “I’m sorry.”

  “You . . .” Angela shakes his arms off. Burning with rage, she steps back and augustly criticizes him, “Do you still think I’m a witch?”

  At that precise moment, the royal cavalry scoots and putters, in crisp steps, encircle Angela. The young woman looks around in a panic and sees arrows pointing at her from all directions. Her footsteps are out of sorts; suspicion and resentment make her red. Boruc steps mightily out of the crowd, dismounting and coming toward Alexander. He asks loudly, “Your Highness the Prince, is this the princess of Mongolia?”

  Alexander is pale and speechless, locking his eyes on her, he nods.

  These words are like a fallen avalanche that shatter her ears and frighten her out of her wits. Angela only feels numbness along her spine and emptiness in her consciousness. The world swirls about her while her pulse freezes; she can only breath prudently. Shaking, she says, “You are . . . the prince?”

  “Yeah.” Alexander responds sternly and openly, “I am the son of the King of Poland Boleslav, and you, you are the illegitimate daughter of Mongolia’s Great Khan Ögedei.” His tone insinuates detes
t for the enemy.

  Angela suddenly wakes up from her dream and at this time sees his precious armor and jeweled buttons, shiny boots and proud helmet. Confusion fades from her beautiful face and she is too confounded to breath. She laughs at herself, her man as the prince. How many women’s fantasy is this? She should have been wildly ecstatic and jumping for joy, why is it that its realization tastes so bitter and feels so frustratingly powerless?

  “I’m sorry, Angela.” Alexander sighs, “We came to catch you this time. As the prince I have to consider my people first. I cannot run away with you. I am very sorry. Please sacrifice yourself a little and go back with us. With you in our hands, the Mongols will think twice before they take action with Poland.”

  Disappointed and indignant upon hearing these words, Angela says, “What . . . . did you say?!”

  Next Boruc decisively issues an order for the soldiers to tie Angela’s hands to her back and pack her onto a horse.

  “Alexander, jerk—” Angela struggles and twists, perspiring and tearing with anger. Who would have guessed that she just escaped from one place and has to start another escape to go back? When will the escape and hiding end?

  “Let’s go back to the city first, later chase the Mongols who try to take her back.” Alexander pulls and turns back the horse by its head and leads the group back.

  Just as the royal cavalry trots off, sounds of hooves come fast and furious with a vigorous pursuit from the behind. Tianyin, Hesig, Kyrigu and Wonbayer, straddling over their stallions in the front and back of one another, charge forward immediately like bold diving hawks. Storming mercilessly like a ball of fire, they instantaneously blast over. At the head of them is Tianyin, driving the horse and pulling out his sword; the rhombus formation disbands the enemy army. In a moment’s time, the Polish team is dismantled.

  Seeing only Tianyin lift his wrist to swipe his sword, enemy blood springs forth like columns by his feet. When a long spear stabs at him, he rides and hangs on the horse mane. Lying flat down with face-up to flip and sweep with his sword, he injures three people. Leaning into that force, he returns to the horseback to change hands and stab back as he turns around. The person holding the spear dies instantly.