“Witchcraft,” he mumbled.
“Possibly. But as you see, the boy’s brain is still functioning quite nicely.” Zheng once more lowered both hands to the feverish boy. “His mind is even now seeking a safe place for his wounded body. He is with whom he wishes to be with in his final moments. We will now try to change his mind about leaving us.”
As the men watched, the campfire flared as Zheng closed his eyes. Without looking, he grasped the first of the three arrows. The one lodged just below the left of his ribcage. He eased the arrow out, making the boy cry out in his unconscious way. Zheng laid the arrow aside. He then took hold of the second shaft. It was lodged about four inches beneath his heart. He pulled. The arrow still remained lodged and the boy cried out again.
“You’re killing him with even more haste than his wounds!”
“Still yourself if you wish your friend to live,” General Wei Mei said as he placed a hand on the wounded man’s shoulder to steady him.
Zheng closed his eyes as he placed more pressure into his pulling of the arrow. This time the arrowhead came free of the leather armor and once more he placed the bloody projectile near the first.
Zheng relaxed and then sat upon his haunches. He again prayed to the sky with eyes closed. He rubbed his two hands together and the fire flared again, startling those watching. He clapped three times in slow succession. He opened his eyes and everyone one of the men took a step back. His eyes had gone from dark brown to a flaming green. It was if the eyes were illuminated from some inner fire. Those eyes looked into the clear, starry skies above the lee of the canyon. Again, three claps of his hands. He then twirled his fingers as he gestured to the sky. Before anyone knew what was happening, rain drops came from a clear night and inundated the camp. The Mongols gasped as they could not believe what it was they were seeing. Water rushed over the slow rising of the boy’s chest under his hand-me-down armor. Suddenly, Master Zheng reached for the shaft that was embedded just an eighth of an inch from the wounded man’s heart and pulled. The arrow was struck so deep that the leather armor tented upward as Zheng pulled. He doubled the effort and the shaft came free. The boy screamed in pain as Zheng laid the arrow down beside the two others.
The man with the leg wound slid from the grasp of his fellows as he knew his friend, the boy he had been sworn to protect, was dying before his eyes. The blood spurted, becoming a lesser flow as he watched the seconds tick by.
“The boy’s life blood mingles with the earth he sprang from. The rain he was born into,” Zheng said as he dug his fingers into the earth and came up with two handfuls of mud as the rain came down at a greater rate. He then reached into a leather pouch and produced several small nuggets of the mountain’s wares. He held the ore out to Wei Mei. “General, crush these as best as you can with the hilt of your knife.”
The general did as he was told. He placed five of the nuggets into a wooden bowl, and then using the hilt of his blade, slowly started to crush them. Not as fine as he would have liked, he handed the bowl over to Zheng.
“Now General, the three offending shafts.”
Wei Mei reached for the three arrows, which had been removed from the dying man, as the blood coming from the third wound near the heart ceased to flow. He held the arrows out to Zheng. The master, without opening his eyes, took both hands full of the crushed ore and grasped the arrows sharp points, covering each of the deadly warheads with the ore that was now damp with the rain. His eyes were still closed, and his lips moved. The arrow heads were dripping with the silverish material.
“To die and be reborn is the rarest of gifts bestowed upon the lowest of man. You will arise with a new name, a new tact for a life that has yet to be revealed.” His eyes opened, and he looked down on the boy and then, when the last rise of his chest came, he placed the first arrow, dripping silverish looking mud from its barbed point, into the first wound. The body didn’t react. The second arrow was jammed harshly into the second of the wounds, just beneath the heart. The arrow dug deep into the wound that had been created when the arrow first struck the boy down. Still no movement from a body and heart that had stopped working.
“Stop, stop!” cried the boy’s friend. He moved with the rest of his companions to stop Master Zheng from driving the third arrow back into the dead man’s chest.
With the last ore-covered arrow in his hand, Zheng’s free hand shot out with the palm facing toward the men that were trying to stop him. A hurricane force wind rose from nothingness, throwing stinging rain into the charging men. The force threw the Mongols from their feet as they flew backward, landing them in the fierce flood that was now inundating the campsite. The fire burst free from the pit and rose high into the sky. In that light they saw the arrow, the silver ore still clinging to the sharpened point, rise and then come down into the boy’s still chest with a force that drove the head deeper than it had been the first time. This time the dead man’s body arched, and the boy’s eyes sprang open with a scream into the storm that had sprung from nothingness. As the boy screamed, Zheng reached for the arrows and pulled them free once more. The motion was so fast the astounded men weren’t really sure it had been made at all. Tossing the arrows aside, the wind and the rain ceased as suddenly as they had started.
“General, remove the boy’s armor—quickly!” Zheng called as Wei Mei stepped forward and did as he was ordered. He slashed at the leather straps and the animal sinew that held the breast plate in place. The other Mongols were just now starting to pick themselves up from the ground and stared wide-eyed at the unbelievable scene before them.
Master Zheng tore away the shirt made from homespun sheepskin. He then started slamming the remaining crushed ore from the bowl into the once more flowing wounds. The boy screamed again. Then Zheng lowered his entire body onto the boy and covered it with his own. The night became still. The fire died down to almost nothing as the wet wood finally realized it was wet. The flame was just enough to show the scene. Zheng eased himself up with the aid of a shocked General Wei Mei. The general could feel the weakness coming from his master. He eased Zheng over to a blanket and allowed his tired body to sit.
“Cover your friend from the cold night air, for I have no power to stop the common cold as well as I do wounds.”
The wounded man limped up to the boy and, in the dying light of the fire, he saw the mud-covered chest rising, and then lowering with every beat of his once still heart. His eyes went from him to Zheng, who only nodded as a blanket was placed over his shoulders by the general. The wounded man did the same. He put a rough woven cover over his body and then stepped back as the boy’s eyes fluttered open. His jaw dropped as he rose slowly onto an elbow. Instead of looking at his shocked and stunned companions, he turned his head, his long hair dripping water, and stared at Master Zheng.
“I know…you,” the boy said as his friends rushed to his side. He gently shoved them away when they blocked the view of the man that had just saved his life. He continued to look at the tired old man before him covered in a blanket. Then his eyes went to the wounded man who was now kneeling at his side. “He was with us that day many years ago when we caught the wild horses by the Krall.”
“I have been watching you for many, many years, boy.”
All eyes went to Zheng. Even the General was taken aback.
“I have even seen this night many, many times.” Zheng looked up at a stunned General Wei Mei. “As you know, I never venture out this far to greet a trade mission. I knew this boy would be here.”
The Mongol boy gently pushed grateful hands from his body and, with soreness and difficulty, rose to his unsteady feet. He looked at the silverish and roughly crushed mud covering the wounds on his chest. He brushed away the layers and what everyone saw made them go to their knees. There was not even a mark where the arrows had been. The long braids of the once dead man shone brightly in the sitting moon, whose surrounding skies were now clear of any weather. His eyes went to Master Zheng and he slowly moved toward him as he pulled the
blanket closer around his body. As he approached, Master Zheng lowered his head and his body slumped. General Wei Mei helped him once more sit up straight as the master’s patient approached. The boy stepped up and, with a shaking hand, reached out and placed his fingers under the old man’s chin and slowly raised it so he could see into his eyes.
“I am looking at myth. I am looking at legend. I have seen you many times in my life, have I not?”
“Yes, you were always a serious boy. You will become even more of a serious man.”
“Why have you been an unseen savior of one who is worthless to the world?”
“Do you have children, my son?” Zheng asked, his voice growing weak. His eyes were once more brown and deep seated, as if his eyes were retreating into his head.
“I have not the time,” the man said as he lowered himself to sit beside the Master.
“I have. I have a boy child not much younger than yourself. I have an entire tribe of children. We dwell in these lands. This is our home and one day men such as yourself will come to claim them. This is why I have been a protectorate of your young life.”
“You are he whom my father’s father, and his fathers before him, have spoken of, are you not?”
“I am but a man of the earth, as you are now.”
The boy looked up at his four Mongol brethren. He spoke strange words to his guard and they all went wide-eyed and then suddenly went to their knees and bowed.
“You are an Air Bender, the Elemental kin to the natural world. Not myth, not legend, but as real as I.” He spoke again to his brethren. “Elemental. Wizard of earth, air, wind and fire.”
Master Zheng lowered his head and took the boy’s roughened and scarred hand.
“I am nothing more than a man lost in the world. This we have in common. You will be a great man, as I am not, nor ever will be. My choices here tonight have sprung from my greed. My greed of wanting my people to remain hidden within a world you will create. A world where you will eventually conquer enemies of many years. Your enemy, and my people’s historical enemy. A longtime foe that would see my people wiped from the face of this, our earth.”
“I do not understand,” the young boy said as he squeezed his savior’s gentle hand.
“You will know the day when it comes. Hide my people of the mountains. Chase away all those who threaten us. I have traded a life for one who will become great, whereas we are not a great people. A simple trade. Honor among those lost in this wilderness. In exchange for the life I have given back to you, protect and hide my people from those who would destroy us. End this tragic game of life and death over offenses long forgotten by the people who play this shameful game.”
There was a gasp when Master Zheng slid forward into the boy’s arms. General Wei Mei sprang forward and assisted Zheng back to a sitting position. He removed the blanket and raised the robe’s front. The blood flowed freely from three wounds, the most serious at Zheng’s heart. The evidence was clear. The wounds of the dying boy had been somehow transferred to the body of their Master. He was even now breathing his last.
“Master!” Wei Mei cried as he took the weak man into his arms. The general cried when the realization struck that he would lose the most important man in the world that night.
“I will always be with the people. Only I will see them through the eyes of my child, and his children after. This man will save us from a world that wishes to hide the truths of our land, a world they will never understand.” His hand reached, not for the general’s, but for the man he had just given his life for. It was grasped in the now strong fingers of their guest. “Do what you will to the world but join me in keeping the people safe. Do I have your word?”
The boy looked around at his men. Then he went to one knee and bowed his head as Zheng placed his dying hand on his long hair.
“I will keep the secret of your people if I have that power within me to do so.”
“The boy I found so many years ago has now become a man. Some will hate you, others worship you, but greatness is yours on both sides of that life telling story.”
“General, we have spied many torches in the valley below,” one of the pickets reported as he took in the scene he had just joined.
Wei Mei looked up and fixed the man with the wounded leg with his own darkened eyes. “Your foes have tracked you.”
“Yes, I am afraid we have led them straight to you.”
The boy’s hand was squeezed tighter by Master Zheng. Then the grip lessened, and the hand fell away as fast as the flow of blood from his self-imposed wounds. The boy bowed his head and then placed the Master’s hand over his chest as he gently laid him upon the ground. He stood and faced the General of the man who had saved his life.
“Armor!” he said loudly as his eyes remained fixed on the Chinese General. “We will now lead them away from your camp. You have my solemn oath; no army of men will ever breach these mountains if I can stop them. This is my only promise as I have nothing. Nothing in this life as valuable as the man you just lost. But if I am able, I will give you the only thing worth any value—my word. No matter what ills or disaster befall me and mine, you will live hidden from the eyes of men. This I owe to him,” he once more knelt as his leather armor was brought forth. He stood as the armor was slipped on. “We will ride to the south, drawing our enemies from this mountain. Go, take the Elemental back to your people. He will always be remembered, as this place will never be spoken of in our lifetimes. On that you may depend,” he said as his leather armor was tied off and his horse brought forward. He touched the three holes in the thick leather and the blood stains surrounding them. His four men and himself mounted. “May the Elemental’s force push us like the wind away from this place.”
As he turned his horse away toward the direction of the soon to rise sun, General Wei Mei stepped forward with his men. He was lost as to what had happened this night.
“Boy, who are you? I must know that our people will learn the value of a debt paid.”
The boy didn’t answer; he kicked his horse in the side and it sprung forth, away from the dying campfire. His friend remained for the briefest of moments.
“He is the divine one, he is Temüjin, horse lord of the plains.” The man’s horse was spurred forward and then five men vanished into the night with war yelps that would frighten any man on earth as they would do for the next twenty-five years.
As the body of Master Zheng was prepared for his journey home to the hidden mountain, the general saw the torchlights far down in the valley below suddenly turn as their pursuit changed course. The boy named Temüjin had kept his word. He was leading his pursuers away from their mountain.
* * *
In the many years that followed that long-ago night, the man who would eventually be known as the greatest conqueror in world history, would indeed keep his word and the secrets of the Elemental Air Bender and his hidden kingdom in the wastelands of the Gobi.
Genghis Khan would forever be a protectorate of the hidden Empire of the Dragon.
* * *
Gobi Desert, July 1945
The B-29 lost three hundred feet of altitude before the pilot and co-pilot could fight the controls hard enough for the wings to catch more air. The bomber known as ‘Slick Willy’, with her painted nose-art of cartoon character ‘Boxcar Willie’ on a locomotive dropping bombs onto the head of the Japanese minister of war, Hideki Tojo, fought her way back up to altitude. Both men at the controls felt their arms cramp with the effort. The damage they had taken over Manchuria by a high altitude ‘Zero’ fighter, while on the most heavily guarded secret bomb run in United States military history, had damaged the bomb bay doors, jamming the ‘device’ just feet above the twin doors under her belly.
The B-29, ‘Mama’s L’il Helper’, the camera plane, and the third B-29, ‘Summer Solstice’, the weather platform, went down not long after the failed experimental drop over Manchuria, which covered the exact same miles and course adjustments that another B-29 would make the
very next day. The name of that aircraft was—the ‘Enola Gay’. The bomb itself was one you will never find mentioned in the history books. Instead of taking the chance that the atomic bombs, Fat Man or Little Boy, would fail to detonate over a target on mainland Japan, making the American threat to Japan a moot point, ‘Slick Willy’ carried ‘The Thin Man’ apparatus over territory that was uninhabited in the barren wastes of the Gobi Desert. If this test failed, the Americans would be the only ones to witness it. When the night-fighters attacked, they caught ‘Slick Willy’ in the middle of its bomb release over its target. Now, that bomb hung precariously in her bomb bay.
Their chance to bail out was passed over through unanimous vote to ride the aircraft until their fuel was exhausted, rather than the inevitable prisoner of war camp and the torture they would receive over their top-secret mission. They all agreed that falling from a height of twenty-five thousand feet, with a weapon that they still had no idea the power of, was their clear choice. With their compass shot away and their escorts blown from the skies, and with their radio blown to a thousand smoldering pieces, no one would ever know what became of the ‘Slick Willy’ and the top-secret payload she carried. The best they could hope for after crashing was rescue and the recovery of the bomb that no one outside of Washington even knew existed. To cover their mission parameters, they had launched from India for secrecy.
“Damn, that was close,” Major Douglas Pierce said as he flexed his right arm, trying to relieve the cramp that had developed in his effort to regain control of the ship.
“Hydraulics are completely shot, and there is no way to get the doors closed, Skipper.”
“Goddamn S-2 said there was not a night-fighting Zero anywhere near the Gobi, and we run into a whole squadron!” Pierce said as he angrily slapped at the broken glass of not only their hydraulic pressure gauge, but also the compass.
Empire of the Dragon Page 5
