The Dragon's Breath

by James Boschert

  *****

  Hsü and the General had heard the Mongol’s version of the story by the time they returned. Talon was sent for, as was the officer in charge, who was very nervous.

  While the officer was talking to the grim-faced General in a nervous stutter, Hsü turned to Talon. “Their camp is up in arms. According to them, you killed one of their people who was just visiting and trying to be friendly,” he said with a wry twist to his lips.

  Talon snorted, but then said, “They had already killed two of our men who tried to stop them from stealing.” He told Hsü the rest of the story as he knew it.

  Hsü nodded somberly. “They are talking about revenge, or certainly redress. Apparently you killed a cousin of that big ape, Khoonbish. He wants blood for blood.”

  The General had finished with the officer and dismissed him. Hsü explained Talon’s version to him and he nodded.

  “It allies exactly with that of my officer. He was very complimentary of your action, Talon, but also very sorry indeed for the problem that has been created.”

  “Will we be going home soon?” Talon asked. “Did the transfer go well?”

  “Um, yes it did; and no, unfortunately, we will not be going home until this is resolved,” Hsü told him.

  Talon bowed very low to both men. “I had no business creating this situation. I am deeply sorry and wish to make amends however I can.”

  The General smiled and slapped him on the back. “I might well have done the same, Talon,” he said. “We need people who will stand up to these barbarians. Unfortunately, we have to navigate this particular situation and hope for the best,” he paused. “It matters not at all to them that they murdered our people. They think they are inviolate and always take the stance of the aggressor.”

  *****

  In the middle of the huge, untidy city of tents and horse lines was the field where the duel was to take place.

  The Chinese contingent was clustered at one end, a colorful group of nervous administrators and soldiers. Among them was the General with his entire entourage of officers and Hsü. At the other end were the milling horsemen of the Mongol contingent. The negotiations for redress had gone on until late the night before, and Hsü had finally informed Talon that the Mongols would not accept their side of the blame and had insisted on a duel to settle the matter.

  Hsü walked over to where Talon sat on his horse watching the activity at the other end of the field. Hsü was clearly nervous, something that Talon had not witnessed very often in this man who was usually self-contained.

  “How are you feeling, Talon?” Hsü asked him in Arabic.

  “As well as I can expect to be, given that Khoonbish, or whatever his name is, will be trying to kill me in a short while,” Talon responded.

  “You seem calm; that is very good. I know you to be a warrior and so do they, but they have not seen you with a sword... not yet.”

  Talon looked down at Hsü. “What do you mean, Hsü?”

  Hsü handed up his own sword to Talon. “Take it,” he said. “It is far superior to the one you have and twice as sharp. You will need it.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Talon said as he took the sword, drew it from the sheath and felt its superb balance.

  “Just make sure you bring it back to me when this is over.” Hsü’s smile was lopsided as Talon passed the sheath back to him.

  “Listen, Talon,” Hsü said, his tone urgent. “You must get him off his horse, then you will have the absolute superiority. Remember all your training at the Dojo from Sensei Saiki? It will stand you in good stead, but I fear that he has the advantage while on the horse.”

  Although it rankled to have to admit it, Talon had to agree with Hsü. The Mongols were phenomenal warriors while mounted, but bandy-legged and awkward when on the ground. His own skill on a horse was beyond dispute, but in this instance he required an edge. He resolved to be very careful.

  A horseman galloped over towards them and halted his animal in a small cloud of dust in front of Talon. It was Muunokhoi, and he had an unpleasant grin on his flat, round face.

  “We are ready, Wàiguó rén! Or are you too frightened to come and face our man?” he taunted.

  Talon glanced at Hsü and spun his horse around to join Muunokhoi. “Your men didn’t do so well earlier, Mongol,” he said. “Perhaps you are next?” It was bravado and he knew it, but he was not going to let this greasy man from the steppes intimidate him. They cantered to the middle of the field, where several riders were waiting, among them Khoonbish, who glowered at Talon, and Prince Badzar, who smiled cheerfully upon their arrival.

  “Are you ready?” he inquired, baring his bad teeth.

  Talon nodded, as did Khoonbish.

  “The rules are... that there are no rules!” Badzar stated with a laugh. The Mongols within earshot found this very amusing and roared with laughter.

  “The victor is the man still on his feet and the loser is the one dead,” Badzar belabored the obvious, to more amusement. “The payment for losing will be made by the loser’s followers and family at once, or they too will be put to death. Is that understood?”

  Again the nods of acceptance.

  “You will both ride away from me in opposite directions for fifty paces at a walk and stop, then turn your mounts and face me. When I drop the silk you will begin. There will be no stopping until it is finished. Now ride away.”

  Both men wheeled their horses and rode away at a walk for the prescribed fifty paces. Talon felt the familiar flow of adrenalin and took several deep breaths to calm his senses. His heart was beating hard, but he knew he must focus or die. The Mongol was quite determined to kill him.

  He turned his horse and collected the animal, just enough to sharpen its attention and get it onto the bit where it would respond immediately to the slightest command. His life depended upon it. He felt the balance of the sword he now held and knew it to be a superb weapon.

  He saw the silk drop and closed his legs hard. His horse jumped away from a standing position and was into a full gallop within a moment. Talon’s vision, sharpened by the adrenaline, saw that Khoonbish had done almost the same, but one tiny detail caught Talon’s attention even as he closed on his enemy. Khoonbish’s horse was not as responsive as Talon’s. He settled deeper into the saddle and felt the smooth gallop begin whereby he, the rider, could focus all his attention on the danger approaching and not concern himself with controlling the animal beneath him. They were as one.

  Within seconds the two riders were upon one another. Khoonbish had his sword raised for a downward strike that would kill in one blow and was yelling. His fur and braids were flying wild, his black eyes glaring at Talon, his mouth in a ferocious grin, and his heels were pumping the sides of his galloping animal.

  Talon was waiting for the right moment. Just as they were about to pass each other, he drove his left heel into his animal and swerved it right into Khoonbish’s pony. The horses crashed into one another’s shoulders. Khoonbish’s animal staggered and nearly threw its rider, who had been ready to strike. Now of a sudden the Mongol had to keep his seat and his blow went wide. Talon had anticipated the shock of the collision and stayed well seated. He blocked Khoonbish’s weakened blow and rode past, trying to strike with a back hand as he went. It sliced the cloth of his opponent but did little else. He rode on and then whirled his animal to begin the next attack while Khoonbish was off balance.

  But the Mongol was nothing if not a superb rider and within a split second had his pony back under control. He also spun his animal around to leap forward and charge towards the oncoming Talon. Talon knew that he had to do better this time. Khoonbish let out a bloodcurdling yell as they approached and brandished his sword high.

  Just as it seemed they would pass one another, right hand to right hand, the onlookers were astonished to see Talon’s animal swerve, and before the Mongol could react, Talon was hurtling by on his other side. Khoonbish had already committed to the death strike: a wide, sweeping blow tha
t, had it connected, would have cut Talon in half; he was standing on his stirrups leaning out over the right side of his animal when Talon switched sides.

  With a yell of surprise he swung over to confront Talon, but as fast as he was he was not fast enough. Talon leaned well out to his left, the handle of the sword held firmly in his right hand, the center of the blade supported by the palm of his left hand. The force of the horse’s gallop was sufficient for the blade to penetrate the exposed side of the Mongol in a horizontal sweep. The steel cut through the small shield as though it had not been there and sliced deeply into the lower rib cage of the man. Then Talon was past and spinning his animal on its heels. Once again the horse moved as though a part of him. Talon, looking over his shoulder, was about to race back to take advantage of his strike, but then he closed his hand on the reins and the very hot and excited animal responded to the light touch and pranced in place. He murmured gently to his mount and it calmed down.

  There was a spray of blood from Khoonbish’s side and he was flung over the back of his pony to crash face down in the grass. The animal galloped off to stop a couple of dozen paces away, its head down, looking back at its fallen rider.

  There was an audible murmur of shock from the watching crowd of both groups of people. No one had expected this. The entire Mongol army was watching, along with the chiefs who were in the center of the field.

  Talon sat on his horse, waiting. He hoped it was over. His own breath came in short gasps as the exhilaration of the encounter began to drain from him. However, Khoonbish was not done for yet. He lifted his head from the grass, shook it groggily, then got to his knees and sat back on his haunches. He stared down at his gaping wound and the pulsing blood. He shook his head again, his braids flying, and then with an effort, lumbered to his feet. He looked around for his sword and staggered over to pick it up, then he whirled, spraying blood as he did so, to find Talon seated on his horse twenty paces away watching him.

  “You can surrender and honor would be satisfied,” Talon prompted him in bad Cantonese.

  Khoonbish shook his head, barely understanding, and hurriedly tore his sash off to wind it around his chest and bind it in a tight knot at his side. It stopped the stream of blood, but very soon the yellow silk sash was bright red. He wiped his brow and snarled back in his own tongue.

  “You had some luck there, Foreigner. Try it on your feet, or do you want to kill me from up there? I shall kill you one way or the other.” He laughed and brandished his sword.

  Talon sighed. He had no wish to kill the man, no matter how obnoxious he had been or still was. The cut was fatal, and all he had to do was to wait. If they continued to fight, the wound would hamper Khoonbish badly. He could hear the yells and calls of the Mongols on the sidelines, who were demanding a fight on foot. So be it. Hsü would have his way; and now he, Talon, would find out just how good he was with this sword.

  He dismounted, murmured a word to his horse, and then spanked it on the rump with the flat of his hand. It trotted off a few paces and then stopped, just as had the other mount, and waited, watching him over its shoulder, the reins trailing.

  Talon held the sword in both hands, as he had practiced in the dojo. He didn’t have a shield, but the sword was designed for this, and he didn’t think he would need one. Khoonbish grunted and tossed the split remains of his shield away with a grimace of pain. Then he squared his shoulders, tossed back his braids and advanced on Talon, who waited for him.

  Talon had no intention of exerting himself more than he had to; it was up to his enemy to do all the work until he was exhausted from loss of blood. However, he realized that he should not underestimate Khoonbish, even in this condition. He placed his feet apart on the grass in the pyramid form where all his strength would come from his lower body and let his mind think of nothing.

  Khoonbish seemed to think that charging would take care of his enemy, so he began to run at Talon, bellowing and swinging his sword from the right to left in a killing arc. The trouble was that, apart from a screech of steel on steel as Talon’s blade deflected the other, Talon was no longer where he should have been. Khoonbish stumbled past and the crowd sighed.

  Talon whirled about and again stood facing Khoonbish, his sword held in both hands, the blade pointing just above his opponent’s head, his knees slightly bent, waiting. He could have dealt a killing blow but had not. There was a sheen of sweat on Khoonbish’s face and the silk bandage was soaked with blood, which now trickled down his belly and leg, soaking his pants.

  He nodded in salute to Talon. “You are good, Wàiguó rén. I’ll admit it,” he grunted grudgingly. Then he ran in again. This time their blades clashed several times before it was Khoonbish who had to step back, because Talon had driven the Mongol’s sword off to his side with a sharp tap on his sword hilt. Again Talon could have either cut off his hand or killed him with one blow, but he was biding his time and his enemy was weakening before his very eyes.

  Khoonbish had begun to realize this too, as his own eyes had a new look in them. He was contemplating his own death, something he had never had to do before. Here in front of him was a wraith with implacable green eyes and a sword that could keep him, Khoonbish, at bay no matter what.

  He tried several more times to get past Talon’s guard, and once came close in a desperate series of thrusts and slashes, but each time Talon was able to deflect the increasingly clumsy swipes or simply to evade them by side-stepping out of the way. Hsü had been right, Talon reflected, as he watched the Mongol sway with fatigue. He lacked the balance of a true swordsman when on his own two feet.

  The bandage had slipped down and blood was once again pumping out of the wound in Khoonbish’s side. The man’s face was gray with pain and loss of blood, and he was panting with the exertion. Talon waited and watched in silence as his opponent staggered back one last time, stared at Talon with eyes that were clouding over, and then fell, first to his knees, then forward onto his face, his sword falling at Talon’s feet. Talon bent to pick it up and tossed it away, still not trusting the man, and then waited for a full minute. By then other men had arrived on the field, shouting and gesticulating as they reached Khoonbish lying prone on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

  A man knelt by his side and turned him over. Khoonbish was dead.

  Talon turned his back and retrieved his horse, which had been calmly grazing while his master fought to the death. He mounted and was about to leave when Prince Badzar rode in front of him. Talon tensed, his grip on his sword tightening, but Badzar gave him a lop-sided smile and said, “Khoonbish has killed many men. I watch you; you are very good warrior.”

  Talon nodded and walked his horse by the prince, then cantered towards the Chinese without looking back. Hsü and the General strode over to him with looks of profound relief on their normally hard to read faces.

  Talon dismounted and handed the still bloody sword to Hsü, but made sure he did not present it blade first. “This is the finest blade I have ever used,” he said. “I want one!”

  Hsü stared at him for a long moment, and then he bent over, slapped his thigh and laughed, shaking his head. “Is that all you can say?” he demanded, still shaking his head.

  The General looked at them both with astonishment, and then he too began to chuckle. Before very long, all the men who were close were laughing too; Talon suspected that they didn’t hear the General, laugh often, but when they did it was a very amusing sight.

  “It is high time this happened,” the General said finally, wiping his eyes. “We need to leave soon before they invent another dangerous game for us to play.”

  Hsü said, “The General is right. We need to get you away as soon as we can, Talon. Who knows what excuse they will invent to start another quarrel?”

  Talon had to agree. He had seen a speculative look in the eyes of the Mongol named Muunokhoi as he rode past.

  *****

  A small train of horses and baggage straggled into the Chinese camp that evening. Prince B
adzar possessed some honor it seemed, for these had been the possessions of Khoonbish, who had accumulated some wealth in his time. The train was accompanied by several women, some slaves, and many children, whom the translator said were now Talon’s possessions. Talon was aghast.

  Hsü was amused. “Take what you want from it, and then send the rest back. They can fight over the stuff, and the women, as I am sure they will,” he remarked dryly as they stood looking at the pile of clothes, weapons and some small chests of silver lying on the ground, next to which were seated cross-legged Khoonbish’s erstwhile women.

  “Please tell the General that I want the goods of any value to go to the families of our men who were killed. The rest can go back to where they came from,” Talon said, and walked away. He listened with half an ear to the wails of the womenfolk and children when they were driven out of the Chinese camp and sent back to the Mongol tent city.

  *****

  Hsü and Talon rode out with a guard of four men the next day at dawn, while the General and his men and retainers broke camp in a more leisurely manner. The small group retraced their path along the river and over the spectacular mountains. Talon never tired of looking at their shapes and contours, and at the raging torrents that they either rode alongside or crossed on fragile-looking bridges. Hsü pointed out that this was not an area where construction of any real substance was carried out because of the ever present threat of the Mongols. “We need to be able to destroy easily what we leave behind, should it be necessary to retreat,” Hsü told him.

  Before long they were in the hills again, and townships were beginning to show up, perched on the sides. Evidently Hsü had something in mind, because although he was in a hurry to get back, rather than taking the direct route back to the great lake they made a short detour. One day he pointed up to a three-storied pagoda perched high above them on top of a wooded mountain.

  “That is a monastery, Talon. I would like to show you one of these places before we go home.”