The Tiger-Headed Horseman Read online

  ‘Yes she does,’ replied Lily. ‘She is the partner of none other than Chinggis Khaan, the greatest emperor my country has ever known. So you had better be careful; I hear he is a very jealous type. If he were to catch you trying to woo his lover, he would probably kill you.’

  ‘Oh, I'll make sure I stay well away from him,’ said the man. ‘He sounds like a right sort. What about you? Are you OK? When I saw you earlier you looked like you had seen a ghost, which given this is the spirit world wouldn't be a complete shock.’

  ‘It's nothing,’ said Lily.

  ‘Come on,’ said the man, ‘spit it out.’

  ‘Well,’ said Lily. ‘I am not sure how I got here. Well, normally I come here through a trance – I'm a shawoman, after all – but this time it feels different. I remember sitting on my horse, Lucky. I remember fighting for my life. I remember seeing that despicable man and then . . . nothing. What do you make of that?’

  ‘You do know what sorts of people come here?’ asked the man. ‘This is a place for the dead. I know that you shame– sha-people are able to visit, but to actually be here. To taste things, smell things, feel things. To be here like that, you have to be, well, dead.’

  ‘But I'm not dead,’ said Lily. ‘I can't be!’

  ‘Have you tasted anything since you arrived?’ asked the man. ‘Have you felt any strong emotions?’ Lily couldn't deny that she had. As the realisation crept over her she began to cry. The man moved towards her and held her in his arms; her head resting on his shoulder.

  ‘You have been dead a long time, my darling,’ said the man. ‘You have been dead and alive and are now back once more.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Lily, although she was beginning to understand what it was that he was about to say.

  ‘I have known Tsara for many years, centuries,’ said the man. ‘She and I lived and loved together. We have been kept apart thanks to my vile cousin who prevented my soul from reaching its final destination. He and I have been fighting in limbo ever since. Tsara was trapped here in the spirit world and I apart from her in limbo. Our hearts ached for one another. The only way Tsara and I were able to be able to be reunited was if somebody in the real world was able to find my physical body. Nothing more. No need for ceremony. My soul merely needed someone, preferably somebody good, to see what had become of me. For centuries I have tried to find a way to get to Tsara. I love that woman so much. She was my life and is my eternity. I am Chinggis Khaan.’

  ‘How do you do?’ replied Lily. She felt a little silly at not having realised this sooner.

  ‘Nobody came forth to help us,’ continued Chinggis. ‘We were alone and destined always to be so. Finally Tsara agreed that she would make the journey back to the real world. We could bear to be apart no longer. She found a mother who was dying. As her soul parted, Tsara promised to look after her daughter if the mother allowed Tsara to live the woman's life on earth. The mother willingly agreed and Tsara was reborn. Born into a humble herder family. Born somewhat different to those around her and never quite able to understand why. Do you not remember? Can you not remember who you really are? You are Tsara! We are together once more and this time for all time.’

  Lily had stopped crying and Tsara now began to look up into the face of her beloved Chinggis.

  ‘How was it possible that I talked to Lily and she talked to me for all those years?’ asked Tsara.

  ‘Recall what happened when you looked in the river a moment ago,’ said Chinggis. ‘All those years you have simply been talking to a reflection of yourself. Your power as a spirit gave Lily the power of a shawoman. You were basically two parts of the same person. You lived as a nomadic herder, although it was not your true home; you were borrowing her body.’

  ‘We cannot leave the herders alone to face your cousin,’ said Tsara. ‘I have tried but I have had no success. Perhaps if people were to discover that your spirit still looks after them, they would have the courage to fight on?’

  ‘You have been successful,’ said Chinggis. ‘Our union is a source of success. Let us fight this battle side by side. Let us return to the real world and wipe my cousin and his minion Tengis from the face of humanity.’

  28

  As Tengis and his troops had made their way back towards Baatarulaan, their swagger had been even greater than it had been when they left. Not only had they successfully dispersed the risible herder force but they had slain their enemy's inglorious leader. When asked if they should take her body to her people, Tengis had ordered his soldiers to leave Lily's smashed and bloodstained body where it lay, next to her equally bloodied steed. If cameras had been invented, Tengis would have taken a dozen trophy shots for his wall.

  Soldiers marching homewards boasted to one another about what they would do with the wealth that Tengis had promised them.

  ‘I'm going to buy me a dozen horses,’ said one.

  ‘I'm blowing the lot on fermented mare's milk and lusty ladies,’ said another.

  ‘At least one thing's for sure,’ said their captain, ‘none of us will have to eat anything other than fresh food ever again. Gone are the days when we scavenged the refuse of others trying to find a meal.’

  ‘Cor,’ said the first soldier, ‘real grub and we don't have to do nothing to get it!’

  ‘Sounds too good to be true, don't it?’ said the second. ‘Sounds like there is such a thing as a free lunch.’

  Nearing the city Tengis demanded that his shimmering bell be rung as they marched through the streets. He wanted to create a fearsome impression.

  ‘I think I need a new name,’ said Tengis.

  Odval, Oldortar and Tchoo looked at him in a puzzled manner but none of them were brave enough to ask why. ‘I was thinking about calling myself the Baatar Tiger; how does that sound?’

  ‘Wonderful!’ gushed Tchoo. ‘It really captures your essence.’

  ‘I think it is a name that befits the defender of Ongolium,’ said Oldortar. He was not given to an emotional response.

  ‘There is much from that name we can use to our advantage,’ said Odval. She was still to shed a tear for the untimely loss of her father but did not blame her beloved Tengis for slaying him. She believed in Tengis and what he was trying to achieve. She was also finding herself increasingly attracted towards the prospect of being empress.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Tengis, ‘I have sent some soldiers ahead to start whispering my new name around Baatarulaan and let people know about my unprecedented victory. If my calculations are correct, and they usually are, by the time we enter the city the gossip circuit will have been covered a dozen times. Everybody will be in the streets to welcome home the Baatar Tiger.’

  As soon Tengis arrived back, he dismissed his Council. The past few days had been tiring and he was certain he never wanted to leave the Baatarulaan again. Despite all his bluff and bravado, Tengis remained a young man. It was still a few months until his twentieth birthday and while he relished the power he wielded he sometimes longed for childish things. He called for his mother.

  ‘My boy!’ cried Mrs Khaan. ‘I heard about your victory; what a clever young man you have become. I am so proud of you!’

  ‘Thank you, Mother,’ said Tengis. ‘I am still your son, though; nothing has changed.’

  ‘Oh but it has,’ replied his mother. ‘Now that you have defeated the herders, you have united the people. You are the first true emperor we have had since Chinggis or even Khad. You are also the richest and that's important.’

  ‘Wealth is but a tool,’ said Tengis, ‘nothing more.’

  ‘But what a beautiful, beautiful tool!’ said his mother. ‘You must use it to ensure the people do not want change. You must make the people fear change; fear you. Do you have any of the shimmering substance with you? How I would love to see some. How I would love to touch it; feel its golden smoothness against my skin. It would be an honour.’

  Despite her affection for him, Tengis could sense that his mother had become as enthralled with the metal as O
dval's father had been. However, he knew he could never harm his mother. Too many delicious breakfasts lay long in his memory. Instead, he gave her a small lump of the glimmering matter and sent her on her way. He made a mental note only to call upon her for birthdays and other special occasions; her mind was being drawn elsewhere by his riches.

  With his mother gone, Tengis felt alone. He knew that this was one of the less pleasant trappings of success and he didn't really relish the prospect. Even Odval was somewhat distant since he had chopped off her father's head. Tengis thought she was being petty. Searching his mind, he instead sought out the voice in his head – Khad.

  ‘Aren't we doing well?’ asked Khad. The voice sounded particularly jovial.

  ‘It depends how you define “well”,’ said Tengis. ‘If you define it as having no friends, no family, a mild sense of guilt for having beheaded your potential father-in-law, and a fear of the people that are supposed to be frightened of you then, yes, I guess you can say things are going well.’

  ‘Don't you worry,’ said Khad, ‘you'll soon find out that being on your own has its merits. It gives you a certain improved sense of mobility with regards to decision making. You watch. Being alone will make you even more powerful. People will fear you to an even greater degree. Baatar Tiger? Love it!’

  ‘What now?’ asked Tengis. ‘Things could not be better but I know that times are not always the same; the grass is not always green.’

  ‘I think we should ramp up our plans,’ said Khad. ‘If my memory serves me – though after eight hundred years it does get a little foggy – then the next step is all about fear.’

  ‘Are you sure we should be doing this?’ asked Tengis. ‘After all, your legend . . .’

  ‘My legend was built on poppycock,’ said Khad. ‘If we are to rule this country with a rod of iron, then we need more than just the mined material. We need to have control and power over everyone, including those close to us.’

  ‘But,’ said Tengis, ‘the legend says-’

  ‘I know what the legend says,’ interrupted Khad. ‘I did write it. From what I recall it was meant merely as a means of keeping people away. I didn't need other foreign minds interjecting their points of view. So long as they stayed away I could hold sway over the Ongolians. Did you receive a response to your letters?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tengis. He was acting a little sheepishly. He was about to take a step that even he thought was possibly one too far. ‘As we speak there are five thousand troops crossing the frontier. We will have an army of privateers at the city gates by the day after tomorrow. The Outsiders are coming to Baatarulaan.’

  Far away, just as Tengis spoke those words, there was a large cracking noise. Somewhere deep within a cavern, far underground in an icy grotto, the glacial rock began to splinter. Shards of frozen rock fell from around the glistening chamber, crashing into the rushing torrent that flowed beneath. From within the rock a figure that had been entombed in ice for centuries slowly began to lift its arm and reach for its sword.

  29

  It had been exactly what Chinggis had been waiting for. As he walked hand in hand with his beloved Tsara, a rush of cold air began to embrace him, seemingly pulling from within his abdomen. He barely had time to explain what was happening before he was sucked from the spirit world. With an earsplitting crack Chinggis abruptly opened his eyes widely. He was no longer walking in the spirit world, or even in limbo. For the first time in eight hundred years he was in the real world. It felt good. He felt alive. He felt an enormous feeling of rage course through his body. His muscles clenched and, as they did, the ice that had been so tightly frozen around him exploded into the grotto. He fell on to an icy outcrop and let out a blood-curdling cry of anger.

  As Chinggis looked around him for someone to kill, he felt something move behind him. Turning swiftly, in one movement he spun and drew both of the sabres from the scabbards that were tied to his back.

  ‘Stop!’ cried a voice.

  Chinggis did not know where the voice came from and, although he hesitated, he remained fully alert.

  ‘Stop. Breathe. It's me. It is Tsara.’

  Chinggis looked around for the voice. His brain and brawn struggled to catch up with the thoughts his newly reacquired soul were sending them. As he scanned the icy expanse, he could see no living creature – neither human nor animal. The only life that shared the cavern with him was a sleek falcon. It flew close to him. As he was about to strike the bird, it spoke. ‘Chinggis, it is I, it is Tsara. Remember me. Wake up.’

  Chinggis hesitated and then his tension began to subside. He sat on the ice. Confusion flooded his defrosting mind. He was finding it especially difficult to think clearly after eight hundred years in the deep freeze.

  Tsara rested nearby and began to inform her lover why he was there; why she was there. She explained that as his soul had been sucked back into the real world he had urged her to find a means of following. He knew that when he awoke he would be ready for battle. That had always been the way for Chinggis. Tsara recalled several embarrassing instances when they had been staying with friends and Chinggis had gone sleepwalking with his sword. Trying to explain why a pack of well-trained and much loved guard dogs had all been decapitated had been a challenge. That was not important now, though. She had to concentrate on resetting Chinggis's mind. She needed to reunite his soul with his physical body. As she focused on his body, she remembered just how good it felt and was guilty at once upon a time having been so childish in the presence of a Roman general.

  In time Chinggis returned to himself. His body had been saved from the ravages of time thanks to being incarcerated in ice by his vile cousin. His thinking returned to its previous sharpened heights. The only thing that was unsettling Chinggis was that he was in love with a falcon. No matter how hard he tried to find a reason, he kept thinking about how difficult it would be to kiss a bird of prey.

  ‘My love,’ said Tsara. Chinggis blanched slightly at hearing this from a falcon. ‘We must move quickly. Your being released from your icy tomb means that Outsiders have crossed into Ongolium. Tengis and Khad must be moving ahead with their plan to strike fear into the people in order to keep the peace and maintain control. They must be stopped!’

  Chinggis backed away slightly from the bird but the icy outcrop he was sitting on wasn't wide. It looked as though it had once been a bridge and he considered trying to jump across until he remembered he was trying to evade a bird – such a plan would be futile. Although he was uncomfortable talking to the bird, some small part of him did understand that somewhere inside the beast was the soul of his beloved Tsara. It was just a little unappealing.

  ‘What is that you would have me do?’ asked Chinggis. He was finding it difficult speaking to a bird. Tsara could tell and hopped on to his shoulder just to see how he would react. Of course, Chinggis was an emperor so he barely flinched. When she moved closer for a light peck on the cheek that was a different matter.

  ‘We must gather our troops,’ said Tsara. ‘When the herder communities hear that you have returned they will come out in force.’

  ‘Is that not what you tried with Lily?’ asked Chinggis. ‘That didn't seem to go too well.’

  ‘We only managed to get a fraction of the communities to join us,’ said Tsara. ‘People are too scared of Tengis and Khad, but with you back they will stand up against them. We also lacked a clear strategic military mind. A sleepwalking troublemaker you may be but you are also the greatest military tactician ever born, or even reborn.’

  ‘What about you?’ asked Chinggis.

  ‘I have a favour to return,’ said Tsara. ‘Lily willingly helped me when she had no need to. The least I can do is to pay back that favour by finding her father.’

  ‘How do I get out of here?’ asked Chinggis. ‘I can't tell you how much I long to see the Steppe, to feel fresh air against my skin. This icy prison has been a hell. But how do I get out?’

  ‘That's easy,’ replied Tsara. She jumped to the grou
nd and began scraping at a narrow fissure on the ice ledge with her talons. Before Chinggis was able to understand what was happening, and long before he was able to do anything about it, the protrusion began to give way. Large sections of ice fell all around him. Chinggis remained momentarily suspended in the air before gravity took control. He fell backwards towards the water.

  ‘No, please no!’ said Chinggis, ‘I can't swiiiiimmmmm . . .’

  Tsara flew around the cavern until she was quite sure that her lover had safely escaped his confinement and then followed his route along the icy torrent, which was not easy for a feathered creature. Fortunately she had pre-empted this need and coated her wings accordingly with a waxy substance to prevent freezing. By the time she reached the Steppe and had flown for a few moments she was fully recovered. Enjoying the use of especially acute vision, Tsara scoured the desert plain for her mate. She could see him hauling himself out of the water a kilometre or two away. She knew he would be fine so long as he used his head. He always had been; it was only when he had followed his heart that Khad had been able to assassinate him. Leaving him to find the nomadic herders, Tsara flew off towards Baatarulaan.

  The city was no more attractive from the air than it was from the ground. A thick smog hung above the myriad of cramped and insalubrious buildings, making it impossible even for a falcon to see clearly. Soaring between gaudy apartment towers, Tsara scanned the buildings for signs of Lily's father. She knew that the group formally known as the Fun Brigade had once established something called the House of Fun, so she hunted for signs of a prison. As she circled one of the darker quarters of the city, she spied a solid tower set behind fortified walls. There seemed to be no streets leading up to the walls while behind them an area of open scrubland formed a further barrier for anyone foolhardy enough to try to reach – or escape – the ominous-looking tower. If he was held here, it was no wonder that Lily had been unable to track her father down. Tsara, though, had an advantage; she could simply glide in and land somewhere near the tower.