Dragon (12 page)

Long did not want any trouble. However, if there was to be some, the last place he wanted to be was atop a horse. He dismounted quickly and tied GuangZe to a post as the men approached. One of them said in heavily accented Mandarin Chinese, “That is a fine animal.”

“Thank you,” Long replied, unable to determine what country the man came from. “Do you know where I can find DingXiang the blacksmith?”

“He is not here.”

Long pointed toward the small building. “Who is in there, then?”

“His apprentice, but he is very busy right now. Perhaps we can help you?”

“I appreciate your offer, but I prefer to wait for DingXiang.”

“He is not expected back for many hours. What is it you need from him?”

Long did not reply.

The man turned away from Long and looked at GuangZe. “That sure is a fine animal,” he said again. “Would you consider selling him?”

“No.”

“We would be willing to give you a handsome sum for him, along with one of our horses so that you would still have transportation. Where are you headed? Tunhuang?”

Long didn’t answer.

“Of course you are. There is no other reason to be out here. Our horses know the way to Tunhuang blindfolded. They have spent their entire lives upon the sands. You would be much better off with one of them.”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

The man shook his turbaned head and nodded toward his companion. “I guess we will have to take it by force, then.” Both men drew their swords and advanced toward Long.

Long was not surprised. He glanced toward the stable, hoping to see a pitchfork or shovel or some other implement to help him fend off an attack, but the walls were bare.

As the men neared, Long’s eyes fell upon the stable door. Tall and wide, it slid along a track hung across the top of the door. A cord ran through the track, one end tied to the door, the other tied to a small counterweight. This counterweight made the door easier to open and close.

It might also help save Long’s life.

When the men were three steps from Long, he grabbed the half-filled water skins slung over GuangZe’s rump and hurled the containers at his attackers. The men turned to protect their faces, and the water skins collided harmlessly with their backs and shoulders. By the time they straightened and poised once more for attack, however, Long had reached the door.

He leaped up and grabbed hold of the cord near the center of its length. As he came back down, the counterweight went up, stopping abruptly when it reached the first pulley.

The cord snapped in Long’s hand, just as he had hoped. He released his grip and let the counterweight fall to the ground, the broken cord snaking out of the
pulleys and landing in a pile on top of the counterweight.

Long grabbed the broken end of the cord as his two attackers sprang into action. Coiling the cord in his left hand, he took the counterweight in his right and cocked his right arm back. When the first attacker was within range, Long hurled the counterweight at the man’s head, letting the cord out while maintaining a tight grip on its end.

It was a direct hit. The man dropped to his knees and the cord went slack. However, the man was only dazed. His turban had absorbed more of the impact than Long would have liked.

Long switched the end of the cord to his right hand. He took several steps backward to make additional space between him and the second approaching man, and swung his right arm in a wide arc, the counter weight lifting off the ground and flying through the air like the weighted end of a chain whip or, more precisely, a rope dart.

Long had always been quite skilled with the chain whip and rope dart. Both mimicked the powerful sweeping motions of a dragon’s tail. He aimed the airborne counterweight at the second attacker’s head, and the man raised his sword in front of his face in an effort to protect himself.

The swinging counterweight wrapped the cord around the weapon’s hilt. Long gave a vicious yank, pulling the sword from the astonished man’s hands.

Long glanced at the first attacker and saw that he
had stumbled to the stable and was fumbling with a saddlebag. He produced a pistol and aimed it at Long’s chest.

“I should have used this from the start,” the man said. “Drop the rope and—”

Long’s
dan tien
began to twitch. He heard hooves pounding behind him. He turned to see an elderly man much like Cang roar past on what appeared to be a Heavenly Horse. The rider halted in a cloud of dust in front of the stable and pulled two pistols from his sash. He pointed one at the armed man inside the stable, and the other at the unarmed man.

“Drop the pistol,” the rider said to the man in the stable.

“I don’t think so, DingXiang,” the man in the stable replied. “I believe this is a stalemate.”

“Think again,” said a new voice from behind the stable. Long looked over to see a young man step around the corner carrying a pistol in one hand and a pair of glowing blacksmith tongs in the other. He dropped the tongs in the sand and positioned himself so that the man in the stable could not shoot or even see him, but he still had an easy shot at the weaponless attacker.

The weaponless attacker swallowed hard and called out to his companion inside the stable, “It’s the apprentice and he’s got a pistol aimed at my head. Do as he says. That horse is not worth dying for.”

The man inside the stable cursed and returned his pistol to the saddlebag. He tied the bag closed and looked at DingXiang. “Satisfied?”

“I will be satisfied when the two of you leave. Take your horses and do not return.”

Both did as directed. They climbed onto their horses and left, the disarmed man not even bothering to ask for his sword back.

The apprentice stepped forward from the rear of the stable. Long saw that he was about seventeen years old.

Long bowed to him and to DingXiang. “Thank you both,” he said. “I feel like I should repay you somehow.”

“It was nothing,” DingXiang said. “Unfortunately, these events occur often out here. One must accept it as a normal part of life. I see you have a Heavenly Horse. Is it one of Cang’s? GuangZe, perhaps?”

“It is GuangZe.”

“A very fine horse. I suppose you are in need of some shoes for him?”

“That will be up to you, sir. I am traveling to Tun-huang.”

“Of course you are. Why else would you bother to stop here? Have you selected a route yet?”

“I have a map.”

“Well, let’s take a look. What we put on the horse’s hooves, if anything, will be dictated by the surfaces you will travel over. From here, it looks like there is nothing but sand out there forever, but once you travel west a few hours, you will begin to see rock formations. I hope your map is a good one. By good, I mean recent.”

“Why?”

“There have been a number of rock slides out there
lately. Some of the passes are now blocked. My apprentice here knows the most about them. He gets updates from travelers who stop in here. Show him what you have.”

Long walked over to GuangZe, impressed that the horse had remained more or less calm this entire time. He removed the map from his saddlebag and handed it to the apprentice.

“Interesting choice,” the apprentice said. “This route is seldom used, but as far as I know it is still open. You should not have any problems.”

“What about horseshoes?” Long asked.

DingXiang looked at the map again. “I recommend removable hoof boots instead of fixed metal horseshoes. Your route is mostly sand. Sand can wreak havoc in a freshly shod hoof if it gets beneath the shoes. Hoof boots will give your horse protection over the rocks, but you can remove them when you pass through sand.”

“I have never heard of hoof boots.”

“People were using them a thousand years before metal shoes,” Cang said. “They are still quite common out here. They are made of leather and cloth, and secured with ties. Simple yet effective. They are custom-made for each hoof, but I can have a set for you first thing tomorrow. Enjoy a good night’s rest at my inn, free of charge. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you could do with a proper pair of riding pants. We appear to be roughly the same size. I will find you some.”

Long bowed. “You are too kind. Thank you. I still feel like I should repay you somehow.”

The apprentice grinned and nodded toward the foreigner’s curved sword, lying on the ground. “If you feel that strongly about the need to repay us—or at least repay
me
—you could let me keep that sword. It does not appear to have been made in China, and I would enjoy examining its construction.”

“My pleasure,” Long said. He walked over and picked up the sword, unwrapping the cord and counter weight from the hilt. “Sorry about your door,” he said. “Allow me to fix it.”

“You will do nothing but rest while you are here,” DingXiang said. “My word on that is final.”

Long nodded his thanks and looked the sword over, running his finger across a large, fresh nick in the blade. He turned to the apprentice. “The iron counterweight seems to have damaged the sword in this spot.”

“So much the better,” the apprentice said. “A notch like that should reveal the folded layers of metal within. I am eager to examine it, but I must take this horse out for some exercise first.” He took the sword from Long and gave his own bow of thanks. Then he untethered and climbed atop the remaining Mongolian horse in the stable and rode off with a big wave and an even bigger smile.

“I had better get to work,” DingXiang said. “For what it is worth, Warlord Xie stopped here a few weeks ago and told me to expect you. I did not want to
say anything in front of my apprentice because it is none of his business. I want you to know that I have great respect for what you are doing. Now go inside and get as much rest as you can. You are going to need it.”

L
ong woke the next morning feeling rested. He ate a quick breakfast, changed into a pair of heavy cloth riding pants, and followed DingXiang outside to receive instructions on how and when to use GuangZe’s custom hoof boots. GuangZe was very accommodating, and within half an hour the lesson was over. Long slipped the boots into his saddlebag, waved goodbye to DingXiang, and rode into the Gobi’s seemingly endless sea of half-frozen sand.

GuangZe’s hooves sank deeply into the shifting sands. The poor animal had to work several times harder than normal for every step he took. Long was happy to see that the sand did not deter the horse, but it did make GuangZe wary, and he changed his gait
considerably. Between the shifting sand and his new pants, Long felt like he was learning to ride all over again.

After half a day, Long was finally getting used to the new riding motions when the terrain began to change. The ground beneath GuangZe grew firm, and massive rock beds rose ahead of them out of the sand. Long stopped to put on GuangZe’s hoof boots, drink some water from his water skins, and check his map.

The map included crude sketches of major rock formations to serve as reference points, and Long felt fortunate that even after the recent rock slides, he was able to figure out where he was. Up to this point, he had been attempting to ride due west, using the sun as his only compass point. Judging from the map, he had veered a fair amount to the north. This turned out to be just fine, because north was the direction of the pass he was supposed to take through the rocks.

He saw the pass less than half a
li
away and grinned. Though the deep sand was slowing them down, they were still making excellent time. By his calculation, they would reach Tunhuang in three days or less. He had more than enough food and water to get him there, and the fur-lined coat and hat NgGung had given him were doing an admirable job of keeping the cold at bay.

He reached the pass and was relieved to find that it was open, as DingXiang’s apprentice had said. Strangely enough, once they were between the towering boulders,
Long’s
dan tien
began to warm. He halted the horse and looked all around, but saw nothing.

Then he looked up.

A large man dressed head to toe in black dropped a net over Long. The net was ringed with rocks, and it pressed down on him with incredible force. It was difficult for Long to raise his arms, and nearly impossible to raise his head in order to see straight.

GuangZe stamped his hooves nervously, but to his credit stood his ground. Long heard horses’ hooves pounding against the rocky ground around a bend ahead, and he fought to free himself. It was no use. The more he struggled, the worse he got tangled in the coarse webbing. He realized that GuangZe’s head and legs were unobstructed, so he squeezed his thighs to get the horse moving and steered it back out of the pass, onto the sand.

Long fought gravity, motion, and the ever-shifting sand itself to remain balanced atop GuangZe as his mind raced for a solution. Then he remembered the knife NgGung had given him.

Long managed to wriggle his right hand free of his heavy glove, and he reached behind his sash with two fingers, pulling the small knife from its sheath. It was amazingly sharp, and he made quick work of the webbing. He sliced enough of the net away to free his arms and head, then he resheathed the knife, gripped the reins tightly, and squeezed his thighs together a second time.