Desert Rhapsody - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The unlucky guard’s corpse sank into the Night. There were wolves in the desert; that was no lie. Jiang Yuan had heard them howl after dark and seen ghostly green lights circling the crowds. The wounded men the bandits abandoned would vanish after letting out shrill, miserable wails. This truly was an age where a person walking alone could not survive.

Jiang Yuan wasn’t sure whether, in a place like this, a corpse and the smell of blood would draw wolves. She hoped not. The knife at her throat was steady enough to make every hair on her body stand on end. Keeping her voice as low as she could, she said, “They’ll see us.”

The man did not answer. Behind his headscarf, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if in a cold smile. Jiang Yuan could only obey, praying she would not arouse suspicion along the way. She tried to turn around. The knife withdrew, then slid with effortless smoothness to rest against the small of her back, pressing her forward step by step. “Where do they keep the money?” The voice followed her from behind like a shadow.

Unexpectedly, it sounded very clean. He spoke a little quickly, but every word was clear. He followed Jiang Yuan out of the darkness and into the firelight. The peoples of the desert all wore loose white robes and long headscarves to ward off sand and heat, and this uninvited villain did not look all that different. The only thing that stood out was the fitted armguard beneath his wide sleeve. His white cloth was ordinary fabric, stained yellow by dust and wind, and a sliver of his curved blade peeked out from the shadows.

His posture was perfectly natural, as if he had been here all along. Two men drinking nearby glanced over, but they were no help. Jiang Yuan pointed toward the wooden hut. He asked, “And Kuaidao?” Jiang Yuan pointed again. Beside the wooden hut was a tent, where the flickering firelight revealed women’s bodies and soft, fawning flatteries.

The gold, silver, and gems had already been stuffed back into leather bags, hiding their glitter from view. In any case, Jiang Yuan was only showing the way. When Adnan looked up and saw her bringing another person back, his expression remained calm as he watched the man sit down and take the curved blade from behind Jiang Yuan, toying with it in his hand. Jiang Yuan had reason to believe it had tasted blood. In the firelight, the blade gleamed with a chilling, hair-raising coldness.

Adnan said, “This piece of mine is done roasting. Do you want some?” At last, someone noticed that a stranger had entered the captives’ tent and walked over, demanding, “What are you doing?!” Small fry were forbidden from making contact with the captives; after all, they were goods that could be sold. The man stood, and Jiang Yuan realized he was a bit shorter than the newcomer, and much thinner. For some reason, the bandit failed to keep his footing. As he stumbled, the tapered sleeve beneath the man’s robe flew up, and the curved blade swept with it across that screaming throat.

The whistle was even more piercing than the scream. “Wuliii-” A shrill cry like an eagle’s screech, as ghastly as a dead man crawling into camp, cut through the air. The beat of wings summoned wild, laughing shouts. Horses and camels began to neigh and bellow in fright, and the shadows cast by the bonfires thrashed everywhere. The tent collapsed. Adnan and Jiang Yuan supported each other as they fled aside. The man did not even look back at them. Once he was done using them, he brandished his curved blade and charged out with his men. Jiang Yuan heard him give the order: “Keep some alive! Capture Kuaidao! He’s in that tent playing with women!”

“Capture Kuaidao!” The piercing voice carried through the wild laughter and screams like a death warrant. The bandits finally reacted. “The water’s poisoned!”

“Fuck your mother! Hellfire take you! You went after the water source! It’s Blood Eagle! It’s Blood Eagle!”

“Glory of the Blood Eagle!”

A deadly clash spread out from the center of the bonfires, and an eagle soared above the battlefield with wings outstretched. It was a chaotic tragedy. Jiang Yuan watched with her own eyes as half a man’s head was chopped off, his body still twitching after it hit the ground. She had already vomited when she first came here, so now her stomach only churned faintly. She could not even find the leader who had taken her hostage and brought her in.

He really had used her to the very end. Adnan grabbed her and fled behind the baggage to hide. Some people hid like they did; others panicked and ran blindly in every direction. But the bandit gang called Blood Eagle quickly gained the upper hand. Some of the fleeing men mounted horses and broke out with Quick Hands, so half the attackers rode after them. The rest stayed in camp, looting goods and killing anyone alive.

People were running everywhere. The newcomers did not care about captives; they killed whoever they saw. The Black slaves and Turks who resisted first were beheaded. The merchants from Persia knelt and begged for mercy, but they had already been stripped of every coin, so they were herded together like sheep. Jiang Yuan had a bad feeling. Adnan whispered to her, “You didn’t make a deal with that man?” Jiang Yuan shook her head. She did not even know whether the man was among those who had charged out in pursuit.

Adnan said nothing more. “They’re here for revenge, not to rob fat sheep. We need to go. We’ll dig a hole in the desert and hide.” He still had meat on him, and Jiang Yuan was carrying a waterskin. They could hide. Keeping to the shadows, they bent low and slipped away.

But the hunting eagle discovered them. It was an eagle with feathers like the darkest night, as large as a hound. It dove out of the darkness and snatched away Jiang Yuan’s headscarf. If Jiang Yuan had not dodged quickly, she would not have gotten away with only a stinging bloody line on her scalp. The eagle circled overhead, its cobalt-blue neck so beautiful it made her hate it to the bone. “There are people here!” someone shouted, spotting them. “An old man and a brat too!”

He had light brown skin and was bare from the waist up. Wherever there were no scars or blood, his flesh was still full of youthful softness. A brat of fifteen or sixteen had the nerve to call someone else a brat. With a savage grin, he swung his blade down at Jiang Yuan. Jiang Yuan saw the attack clearly. She tilted her head aside, pushed with one hand, shifted her feet, and sent him sprawling face-first into the dirt.
“What…?” The little punk’s stunned look went tumbling past Jiang Yuan’s waterskin. Jiang Yuan grabbed Adnan. “Go!”

They had barely taken two steps before they were forced back. The people who had heard the commotion had already gathered, closing into a ring around them. Wind cut through the air behind her again. Jiang Yuan followed the sound, drove an elbow back, skimmed past the weapon and hooked up along the attacker’s arm. Her fingers found the joint and twisted.

With a crack, she slammed backward and threw the faceless thug over her shoulder.

Silence fell all around. There were a few low curses, but for a moment, no one came forward again. Jiang Yuan panted as she swept her gaze over the crowd.

Adnan said in shock, “Jia Nan…”

Jiang Yuan had never told him that when she had come to Syria for an exchange program, the thing she had been exchanging was karate. She kicked the scimitar on the ground farther away. The one on the ground was another kid. Trying to play dirty, he drew another knife from his belt. Jiang Yuan dodged, bent her knee, and kicked him back into the crowd.

She raised her voice. “We are merchants from Baghdad. We can pay ransom!”

But laughter burst out from the crowd. They were jeering at the man whose joint Jiang Yuan had wrenched out of place. He had red hair and a face full of freckles, and now, red-faced and furious, he glared viciously at Jiang Yuan, shouting for everyone to rush in and kill them.

Jiang Yuan repeated, “We can pay ransom!”

No one paid them any attention.

Someone said, “That kid learned those tricks from a devil!”

“How did he do that? He crippled Faisal’s hand!”

“His hand is fine!” Jiang Yuan said calmly. Faisal was being held up by others, his arm hanging limp, his face beginning to turn deathly pale. “If you let me go, I’ll fix his hand for him!”

But someone heckled, “So he really did learn from a devil! His hair hasn’t even grown in, and he wants to imitate the most famous bone doctor in Damascus! Either he’s lying, or he knows sorcery! Faisal’s done for!”

At once, everyone roared, “Grab him! Hang him up!”

Countless hands and blades reached for Jiang Yuan, but they were afraid of her sorcery and did not dare swarm her all at once. Jiang Yuan shielded Adnan, elbowed two men first, then kneed another. “Run!”

Weapons had no eyes, after all. Several bloody cuts appeared on her body. The falcon swooped down, clawed at her once, then spiraled back up, continuing to look for an opening.

Adnan said, “How could I abandon my benefactor?” He raised his blade and cut down the third man.

Jiang Yuan thought she was going to die here.

Just as she threw yet another man over her shoulder and slammed him to the ground, someone finally said, “Stop.”

The voice carried through the night. Hooves sounded. The falcon with the cobalt-blue neck dove downward and seized the wrist he had raised in midair.

So that was not an arm guard. It was a leather glove. Though perhaps it could also be called an arm guard. The leading blue-eyed bandit chief waved casually behind him. Quick Hands, who had swaggered around in broad daylight, was dragged back along the ground. Now he lay there, wailing, his flesh and blood in tatters. One of the chief’s men jumped down, cut a piece of meat from him, and tossed it to their leader.

The bandit chief was covered in blood as well. Drops of it had splattered across the long scarf covering his face. His blue eyes looked down at Jiang Yuan as if reassessing her from head to toe. He caught the meat, and more blood spattered onto his clothes. The falcon cried out in delight, flaring its wings as if about to pounce. He drew the bird’s gaze away and tossed the meat upward. The falcon’s talons sank, and it shot from his arm like an arrow from a bowstring.

Mounted on his horse, he looked down at Jiang Yuan from above. Jiang Yuan truly hated the face veils of the people of Arabia. In the middle of the night, all she could see was a pair of eyes.

Panting, she heard the verdict passed on her. “Bring them inside.”

“Chief,” Faisal shouted hot-headedly from within the crowd. “This guy knows sorcery! He just pinched my hand lightly and snapped it!”

Those blue eyes flicked toward him. The chief swung down from his horse. The falcon finished the meat and landed on his shoulder again. His white robe loosened slightly in the rush of air, revealing the light armor underneath. He crossed through the crowd toward Jiang Yuan. As he brushed past her, that damned eagle twisted its neck, flapped its wings, and gave her a malicious little display.

The chief raised a hand toward Jiang Yuan. The back of his hand was long and elegant, set off by a gleaming jeweled ring. From the small leather pouch hanging below, still dripping blood, a clean white paper box jutted out at an angle. On the box was half a character: fen.

He had raised his hand to untie his face scarf.

In the hot, dry currents of the firelight, those deep blue eyes seemed to steam into view. The scarf fell, revealing a handsome face beneath: a slightly pointed chin, smooth contours, and no beard. Men of Arabia could only grow beards after coming of age, and beards were fashionable there. A boy became an adult at fifteen.

This youth had not yet come of age. Standing there, he was about the same height as Jiang Yuan. Middle Easterners were Caucasian, and his skin was indeed fair, his nose high-bridged, his lips thin, his eyes blue. His lashes were thick, but his gaze was clear.

The beautiful Arab boy stood soaked in blood, looking at Jiang Yuan, surrounded on all sides by bandits.

He asked, “You can heal him?”

He had not heard what Jiang Yuan had said earlier, but fortunately, he was the only person here whose train of thought lined up with hers. She nodded, no longer wanting to speak.

The underage bandit chief nodded as well, then turned his head to look at his subordinates. They stood around her, waiting on his command.

“Then,” he said, “tonight, the devil stands on our side.”

I’m sick.

Going to sleep after writing this.

Demon writer’s block. Updates will stop here until I figure out how to connect the plot again.

Don’t worry, this is a short story. It’ll end soon!