Bridge Across the Land

by Yvonne Wang

  Angela is frightened but hears Tianyin say decisively, “Swim across!”

  In that instant, he and Hesig charge down hill; the moment he enters the river he hops off the horseback like a standing sparrow hawk. Tianyin digs out the book and holds it in his mouth. He picks up the young woman and splits apart the waves, swimming across the river with her. Angela is scared and drinks in water; frozen waves pierce her bones so she shivers all over. She immediately grips tightly to his neck and shoulders. Her shirt and skirt are drenched wet; Angela is stuck to Tianyin and it separates the two only by a thin layers. It is most pathetic. The two horses dig in their hooves and cross over from the side, even faster than those two individuals.

  Kyrigu trails behind and gets to the top of the hill, but he lifts his rein and stops. Carrying his bow and pouch, he sits on the horse and views the river, looking at the back of the three of them with worry. He frowns bitterly while the hands grabbing the reins are completely sweaty. Since he personally let Wonbayer go, everyone has been running for their lives day and night. Since he made the big mistake, he must sadly repent. Perhaps . . . . he can save everyone from danger this time, a way to clear his regretful offense.

  The young man glances back anxiously and sees the enemy army push closer and up the hill. His eyes shine with a determination and loyalty, he grits his teeth and yells, waving his arms and kicking the horse, he rushes northward along the back of the slope. The horse runs like lightening, gradually moving far away from where Tianyin crossed the river.

  The Mongolian soldiers have not climbed to the top of the hill and do not see the river. They only see the young man quickly escaping northward, therefore chase after him altogether. The entire team changes directions while the feathered arrows fire heartlessly and swiftly. Kyrigu is adroit while seemingly glued to horseback, rolling and evading swiftly and lightly like a swallow. Sometimes his foot hooks and allows him to hang from the horse, sometimes he grips back for the neck of the horse, circumventing quite a few arrows.

  On the other end, Angela and others reach the shore. Wet and coughing, they straddle the horses, only to realize that one person is missing. They look up and back and see on the north hill a shadow like a butterfly, turning and flying on the horse. Tianyin’s green face dabbled with water burns with hatred, shrieking violently, “That idiot!!”

  Suddenly, an arrow hits the horse and a deep whine shatters the clouds, the four hooves become crippled. Immediately the young man loses balance and suffers a hit of a fierce arrow, the force of which stabs into his body so that arches. He could not cleverly bypass weapons anymore. Before he can even yell, the second arrow shoots into his ribs, popping through the lungs. Kyrigu only feels himself black out and his head boil, blood spills from his mouth. He wants to continue to get on the horse and run, but the third arrow is already abhorrently stuck in his leg, a red river of warmth drips.

  The fourth arrow pierces his lower back.

  The fifth arrow drills straight into his shoulder blades.

  The sixth arrow punctures his back sharply.

  A series of flying arrows break and mangle the young man’s slim body; in a short while he becomes a porcupine, arrows all around.

  “No—!!” Angela screams hoarsely and in despair, crying in horror. Hesig shivers as he watches, eyes well up with hopelessness. Tianyin stands rigid, holding his breath and pupils. He knows that he cannot let Kyrigu waste his death, panting in pain he turns his head hard-heartedly, whipping and hollering, “Let’s go—!”

  Before the soldiers climb onto the top of the hill, both horses run for their lives like mad, heading straight for the forest in front.

  Angela is in grief, fright and numbness. Pressed onto the horse by Tianyin, she continues to look back at the lad and calls on him anxiously and sadly. Thinking of the way he playfully sticks out his tongue, endearingly delivers the mare milk and innocently thanks the doctor, she sobs even more, extending her arms and wishing to bring him back.

  She sees that dawn has broken through the eastern clouds at this time and the light of sunrise is blinding. Sunlight caresses the grassy hills and the green wilds don the morning. Kyrigu’s porcupine shadow sits on the horse, a silhouette embedded high up in the morning rays, it bathes in the dawn’s sheen alone; a chilly loneliness outlines it in gold.

  Soon, Wonbayer climbs up the hill with his horsemen and search with their eyes but do not see any trace of Tianyin at all. Upset and annoyed, he sighs in irritation and throws down his hammer. They do not know where to pursue among the boundless fertile forests on the other shore.

  He hears dying breaths and quickly walks to the front of Kyrigu’s horse. He sees more than ten arrows in the young man soaking in blood. He has mixed feelings about watching him hoarse and panting. Although this lad wants to assassinate Great Khan and should die, it is nevertheless bitter to look at the blood stains on this child’s face.

  Kyrigu’s grape-like inky eyes gaze at him deeply; The child is puffing hard, as if he has something to say. Wonbayer pulls Kyrigu’s injured body down to the ground, crouching and cupping his neck. His large brows in a frown, Wonbayer constricts the blood flow of Kyrigu’s chest.

  “Wonba . . . . yer,” The young man utters broken lines with great effort; with one hand sincerely clasping Wonbayer’s wrist to his chest, his face is full of intense pain. He forces himself to sustain and says, “Do no . . . . do not kill . . . . Grandpa Hesig and Tianyin . . . . I beg of you . . . .”

  Wonbayer is shocked and his heart quivers, his face is frigid and he does not respond.

  Kyrigu keeps gulping down blood and his teeth are completely stained. His eyes are genuine and pure. He says weakly, “I . . . . know . . . . you are good man.” In Wonbayer’s embrace, he suddenly twitches in pain and glares at the sky. He squeezes another smile, “We . . . . are doing things that wrong Mongolia . . . . but . . . . I, I” Speaking at this point, the young man sniffles and bitter tears slide down his cheeks. Depleted, he says, “I don’t want to see Mongolia in battle for so many years . . . . all . . . . the male, as soon as they are born, are destined to . . . . learn to seek honor for Mongolia . . . . to fight, to stomp on others’ homes . . . . I, I don’t want to.” Blood mixing with tears, he cries and chokes, “Mom can only . . . . worry in front of the yurt. I don’t want to fight . . . . I don’t want to kill people, I don’t want other people to kill Mongols . . . . everybody should live in peace on the grand prairie . . . .”

  His true wish is so touching. Wonbayer’s shock grips his throat and something gnarls and tears at his chest. He does not realize the young man has such kind thoughts. He is moved. His consciousness a complete blank, he forgets himself; he does not know what to say, only to press his wound and protect it even harder.

  Kyrigu’s clear eyes are stainless as he looks at Wonbayer, trembling forthwith, “Won . . . . Grandpa Hesig and . . . . Big Brother Tianyin all think this way too . . . . really . . . . so promise me, let them live, okay . . . . is it okay?” The young man grabs Wonbayer’s wrist with all his might, red fingers leaving a mark and yet his pain makes his eyes roll so that he quiets down to squeeze his palm, sadly pleading.

  Wonbayer feels a mix of a hundred emotions and waves of grief. He nods his head heavily and says, “Okay, I promise you.”

  Aren’t Tianyin and others headed for death? For peace, should they really kidnap the princess and assassinate Great Khan? Isn’t it a fool’s dream to revive the country of Jin? Doesn’t he want to be a Mongolian warrior? Why did he become a bad guy now? He does not know the answer, but he knows that he must agree to this child before him.

  Kyrigu is satisfied with what he hears. He relaxes and smiles, cocking his head, his breath immediately stops. He shuts his eyes in peace.

  Wonbayer is suddenly filled with despair, he closes his eyes to mourn Kyrigu’s passing; at a loss in pain. He picks up the corpse and stands up, commanding the sold
iers to dig graves and bury the child. A wave of steps rise behind him again, Lacson arrives with his one hundred light riders at this time. The Centurion with a little mustache inspects carefully the outstretched river and the hills. Unable to contain it, he yells at him, “So, you purposely let the fugitives go!”

  Wonbayer holds the young man and appears to be indifferent. His back to him, he says, “Didn’t you see that I’ve already destroyed one? Hesig also gets shot with half an arrow. If you were not busy monitoring me, we would not have lost them.”

  Lacson’s face twitches and his mustache blows, his skin swells into the color of maroon. He gets off the horse and points at the river, exposing his sharp corn-like teeth, “What are you doing here looking dumb? Do you feel that they have not run away far enough?”

  Wonbayer looks askance and says evenly, “I am going to bury this child. You go after them first.”

  “Okay, you, okay!” Lacson lashes his leather whip, splitting air. He turns and mounts the horse, the entire troop treads across water.

  The rays of the sun stick to earth, miles and miles of reflected crystal light nourish the outlines of things. The new tomb is by the water, sitting peacefully among the fertile grass; a bow made of horn is the tombstone and his quiver is the altar. A chilly morose wind howls and shuddering trees serve as banners. Wonbayer’s crew moves farther away gradually, leaving only the lone injured horse lying by the grave, dropping tears into the soil. The horse has its head close to the tomb. The shore nurtures early spring scenes: dandelions disperse as wind whisks; stamens strip in one circle after another, dancing and roaming pervasively and daintily. Seeds drop onto the river’s surface and dying before there are sprouts; seeds waft into distant lands in search of a new birth. Dots of swan geese fly slowly east toward the grand prairie, bringing the souls home.

  A pitch-black night, chilly as usual. Grassy hills rise up from the ground so that it is empty on the reverse side, creating a hole that is tall enough for a horse to stand. Tianyin is using dirt, pebbles and branches to cover the opening so that it is difficult to detect from the outside. He recedes into the hole and sees Angela sitting and leaning against the dirt wall, eyes miserable and dispirited. Hesig is feeding freshly uprooted grass to the two horses.

  “Uncle He, is the injury serious?” Tianyin gets close to the horse, appearing to be grave and sounding solemn. He asks rigidly.

  “No problem.” Uncle He pats his own shoulder and tries to make light of it, “I don’t even have to bandage it. I took a look when I was changing into dry clothes. The wound has already congealed. Just a minor scratch . . . . Ha, as to this place you found, it sure is excellent. Wonbayer would have never guessed that we headed south along the river for more than three miles and yet never went eastward. I think he will never catch us in this life time.”

  “And Kyrigu’s clothes?” Tianyin’s eyes stone cold, he suddenly blurts out.

  The old man is startled and peers at the horse mane in a trance. Soon, he sadly sighs in a tender tone, “. . . . they are being roasted by the fire as you said.”

  Tianyin whooshes across the floor and picks up that suit of Mongolian outfit. He saunters over to Angela, looking quietly with his deep eyes. A series of bloody horror has left the young woman dumbfounded, staring at one spot and appearing to be at a loss and pale. In slow-motion, she raises her head and hears him say dispassionately, “Change your wet clothes. Tell us when you are ready.”

  Tianyin then walks to the cave opening, parts the branches and disappears. Hesig stares at Kyrigu’s clothes for a while, shuts his eyes sorrowfully and leaves after Tianyin.

  The painted clouds drift west and the jade hook is like a brow. The old man sees Tianyin sit cross legged outside the cave, as still as a rock. He also sits down next to him. He sees Tianyin’s cheerless face and forlorn eyes, silent and tired as if heavy with lead. Gawking at the moon with hanging clouds, Hesig exhales deeply and says, “So it is you who dried the clothes for Angela. You are thoughtful.”

  Tianyin’s utterance is clear and hard, “. . . . Who did you think it was for?”

  A profound silence. The old man rubs his nose tip, voice low and sad, he says slowly, “Kyrigu . . . . that child . . . . saved us.” Sigh “But he could have been . . . . a genius marksman of Mongolia.” Uncle He felt the emotions all of a sudden and rubs his face with his thick palms, regretfully saying, “I thought . . . . the first one to die would be me . . . . it should have been me . . . .”

  Hearing the old man suddenly change his tone, Tianyin cannot help but be morose too. His deep eyes burying the grief though and he continues to speak evenly and frostily, “All three of us must die, sooner or later. There is no difference.”

  Soon, Angela’s voice, as minute as a fly’s, comes from the cave, “Okay.”

  The two return to the cave and see the young woman in a Mongolian outfit and barefoot, snuggled against the fire with her hair down. She is just about to put her bag on her shoulder.

  She and Kyrigu are about the same height; she resembles the young man revived in those buttons and belts. Hesig is just shocked and sees Tianyin appearing rather odd; it is as if he abruptly recalls some problem. He takes one step and in a rage, presses forward like a giant wave enveloping ice pellets; he grabs the bag, interrogating, “Tell me, did Dad give you Hanyuan’s Medical Cases?”

  “Yes . . . .” Angela is horrified and the color of blood suddenly drains from her face; her eyes go dark.

  “You could have taken it out earlier as evidence—why did you have to hide it for so long? What are you hiding?” He threatens with another step, anxious and ferocious.

  “I . . . .” The more Angela lies to him the more she hurts, which is why she never exposed her book all these days; but it actually made things worse. Tianyin’s interrogation now is like lightening or a mighty mountain that collapses in a second. Before she can explain, she only feels a quiver to her cold body, her brain fried and her throat burning, her head heavy like lead and feet as light as feather, the scene before her suddenly becomes blurry as she collapses onto the ground.

  Tianyin won’t let her go and kneels halfway down too. Twisting her wrist, he wants to inquire further—

  Angela’s vision is blurring, she is devoid of energy and she pulls back her elbow in horror, “Dad said . . . . for me not to show it to other people . . . .” Instantly, however, she sees his vicious gaze melt and fade; half anxious and half worried, he clutches her wrist. His dark eyes turn a hundred times and soften a thousand times in a second—shock, caution, thoughtfulness, anxiousness and earnestness—he frowns and purses his thin lips. The hand that originally has Angela’s hand clamped immediately turns to rest on her wrist, checking her condition.

  Angela is startled. Is he . . . . checking my pulse?

  Tianyin’s face is green and expression is stern, with the back of his hand he checks her forehead, feverish and no sweat. This must be because of the travel across the icy river and the imbibing of wind while on horseback. His eyes reveal anxiety and pity. He lays the girl down and covers her with a blanket in the bag. He gets up and walks quickly to the cave opening, throws the sword to Hesig and exhorts, “Uncle He, she has a high fever. I will be right back. Chop some wood, build a rack and cook some water and wait for me.”

  Hesig chases after him with a sense of urgency to remind him, “Hey—hey, be careful of the Mongols.”

  Tianyin has already vanished with not a trace to be seen.

  “Really. . . . he does not take his sword with him when he goes out. I can chop wood with my fingers!” Hesig then pulls out the old shirt that has food wrapped inside. He wants to roll a pillow for Angela but then his eyes light up, “Hey, there is still an egg here . . . . Kyrigu originally said he wanted to save it for tomorrow . . . . sigh, Angela, for you. For your health.”

  Angela looks over at the cave opening and is somewhat stupefied by
a drowsiness. She glimpses at the food and her tongue tastes bitter, she has no appetite, “Never mind, you eat it.”

  “Me?” Hesig laments and sighs, a silent smile surfaces in the dry and wrinkled corner of his mouth, he shakes his head powerlessly, “Let’s not waste the food.”

  Without realizing how much time has gone, Angela wakes up; she realizes that she fell asleep accidentally. Her bones seem steamy, her skin feels clammy and her thoughts are like mush. She curls up on the ground and senses breathing inches away, cool spraying against her cheeks. Exhausted, the young woman opens her watery eyes and the outline becomes more clear. She sees Tianyin crouched down before her, dusty all over and breath like ice.

  “Do you have any Chinese thorowax?” Tianyin is still panting slightly. He says softly. Angela shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

  “How about honeysuckle or weeping forsythia?”

  “No . . . .” Angela sadly drops her eyelids, “I have no more medicine left.”

  Tianyin keeps quiet and backs up to the fire and talks to Hesig. Meanwhile, Angela is drowsy again and closes her eyes and sleeps deeply.

  “Angela?” For a little while, her name is being called from faraway. The young lady wakes up again. Tianyin helps her to sit up. His misty eyes are entirely sincere and reticent, kind and caring, no more evil and viciousness.

  “Drink the medicine.” He brings a mare milk bowl to her chin. She sees a muddy yellow liquid, boiling hot with a fog of scent.

  He actually . . . . knows how to brew herbs . . . . Angela is so surprised. With one hand propping herself up with difficulty, her blue and dark brown eyes look straight at him. The way he appears now—is very much like Dad.

  “There are a lot of dandelions on the river shore, it is the only thing that can clear the heat and dissolve the poison, that I can find . . . . I also added some licorice to neutralize the medication.” Tianyin inhales deeply, pulling out her hand and putting the bowl on top of it.