Tiger Lost

It was possible that the Otog would lose this war. The war party was probably going to lose this battle. But what concerned Baga-Bars at the moment was the certainty that he was about to lose his life. His face burned with shame as he fled from his first battle.

Not that he was a coward who was afraid of death, as it might seem. Far from it. Rather, to die now would be to fail those who had put their trust in him.

This new enemy had first appeared, without warning, a few days ago. Burning a tosgon to the ground and killing everyone in that small, defenseless village. Since then, three more villages had been likewise destroyed. No one knew where this enemy came from or who they were. No one who had seen this enemy had lived to tell the tale, and of this enemy there was no trace.

The Agha had ordered out war parties to find and destroy this hidden enemy. Now, Baga-Bars was still just a Unaga for he wore not the Tsereg-Yara of a warrior. Although he was always the smallest boy of his age in the village, he had the fighting spirit. Once, when the old Bugu pulled him out from under the pile of other boys that Baga-Bars had been fighting, he laughed and commented "You fight like a tiger little one". The name stuck: "Baga-Bars" or "Little Tiger". His heart had swelled with pride when he had been selected for a war party.

The war party had been searching a network of low hills and hidden valleys when the scouts reported a strange blue light. As they watched Al-Han began to pour through as if from nowhere, seeming to materialize from the light.

The Tsereg attacked, but the Al-Han-Bugu used the hated buyu magic to poison and kill. The Al-Han commanded huge Al-Am-tam that breathed a killing fire which burned many Tsereg. To fight one with spear or blade was to invite a quick and pointless death. For each Al-Am-tam that was killed another took its place through the blue light.Soon, every Tsereg would be dead. Baga-Bars was pulled aside and under andagai-oath ordered to flee, to get word of these attackers back to the Khan. He did not want to leave the battle, but the Khan must be warned of this Al-Han threat. That message was more important than his own honour.

Now, Baga-Bars' horse, Maraeda, was the fastest in the land, but even he could not out run the buyu. Baga-Bars felt the fire of magic poison burning through his veins almost masking the pain of the cross-bow bolt that bit into his back as the Al-Han pursued him. Maraeda put on a burst of speed, his great heart near bursting, and they careered wildly down a side valley out of view of their pursuers.

The poison was fading and Baga-Bars dared to hope that he might escape to fulfill his mission even though that success would brand him as a sul-coward. As they turned down yet another twisting valley, a blue light shimmered into existence and before Maraeda could stop they had plunged headlong into the haze. Right into the midst of another Al-Han war party.

Baga-Bars shouted the war cry "URAGSHAA!" as he struck out wildly with his spear and urged Maraeda through the ranks of the enemy. This insane and unexpected attack scattered the Al-Han warriors and Maraeda carried them free of their foes. Baga-bars guided Maraeda deeper into the trees to avoid pursuit.

Trees? Baga-Bars wondered dully. Where did all these trees come from? There are no trees here. He was somehow lost, he realized in despair. How can I find the Khan now? He wandered the woods among huge trees looking for a way home. His vision wavered as his wounds drained his life blood but he pressed on finally slumping forward over Maraeda's neck.

Maraeda nickered softly rousing Baga-Bars from his stupor. As his vision cleared Baga-Bars saw the horse's front quarter was covered in slick red blood. At first he thought that his brave horse had been wounded also. When he noticed the tip of the cross-bow bolt protruding from his own chest he realized, with relief, that it was his own blood covering Maraeda. The flow of blood from the wound seemed to be slowing. This will leave a very nice Tsereg-Yara he thought, light headed from the loss of blood and the pain.

Then Baga-Bars noticed that Maraeda had stopped in front of a small hut nestled in a clearing next to some larger structures. He slid from the horse and slumped against the door, pushing it open to stumble inside, the horse following. Inside he saw the simple stone altar of his people. A temple? Am I home? Had Maraeda found the way home? He wondered. The room spun about his head as he coughed up a foam bright red with blood. Wracked with pain, he sank to his knees. His lungs strained, but he could no longer breathe. "Tengri gojuu", spirit heal me, he gasped with his final breath, reaching out to the altar as blackness claimed him and he fell to the floor. His final thought was the despair of failure.

After a minute, the horse stepped closer and nuzzled the lifeless body. Tears of mourning filled its large dark eyes.

As the blackness cleared, Baga-Bars found himself floating in a shifting gray fog. There was no pain now. In the fog, the past, present and future seemed to merge together into a single languid moment. So this is what it is like to be dead. The fog reminded him of the smoke of his tengri-dream.

In his dream Baga-Bars had been visited by the spirits of the wind, the sun and the land. These spirits had whispered words of adventure and glory into his young ears, beckoning to him. He had arisen and followed their song out on to the empty dark steppes. The grasses parted before him, leading him onward into the deep gray pre-dawn fog. As he walked, the fog swirled and danced, seeming to hint of shapes and figures just beyond seeing.

Finally, the grasses parted no more and Baga-Bars felt the wind upon his cheek. Turning to face into the wind, he could see the glow of the morning sun just behind the mountains far to the east. The wind blew strong and the fog spun faster and faster into a mad frenzy. Then the sun broke over the mountains and a single shaft of golden light touched the swirling gray maelstrom. The fog glowed brightly and then parted. There stood a silver-gray azirga. The light of the morning sun silhouetted the powerful form, and the very fog seeming to flow into it giving it an ethereal aura.

This ghost horse stepped forward to stand, in full body, before Baga-Bars. It's large dark eyes regarding him with understanding. Baga-Bars swung up onto that strong, broad back and they began to run. The planes lay down smooth before the pounding hooves, the wind carried them forward and the sun lit their path. "Maraeda!" Baga-Bars cried reaching out to this joyful image from the past. But his words came out as a ghostly wail.

Then Bara-Bars heard the whinny of his horse and the gray death-fog shifted once more. Now, he floated in the shrine hut looking down at a body lying on the floor. His own dead body he realized. His horse was no longer mourning over the death. Instead, Maraeda was poised, ears alert, looking intently back towards where Baga-Bars ghostly form floated.

The horse turned and tried nuzzle his beloved master, but his silver-gray nose passed right through the ghost. Confused at this, the horse tried again and then his eyes lit and he nodded in understanding. Maraeda quickly turned and lashed out with his back hooves smashing aside the closed door of the temple hut. He trotted outside, tossing his head, beckoning for the ghost to follow.

Baga-Bars floated along as Maraeda guided him towards a larger cabin next to the hut. There the horse again smashed through the closed door and lead his master inside. Baga-Bars was surprised to see the fire and bear rugs of a Tsereg-Ger on the floor. But Maraeda did not pause here. He move to the back of the room and bounded up a ladder to a room above. Baffled now, the ghost floated along behind.

On this second floor, Baga-Bars saw rows of wooden benches lined up before a table. Maraeda stopped beside the table. On the table were two books flanked by elegant golden candles whose light penetrated even the gray death-fog. Baga-Bars looked down at the books, but did not know the words as the runes were not the uyigur used by his people.

Baga-Bars turned at a sound behind him to see a Nastaj-Han dressed in long brown robes. The Er-hun regarded him for a moment and then took some gojuu-bandages from a pouch. He approached Baga-Bars and set to work with the gojuu. In a few moments Baga-Bars felt a tingling, the gray death-fog lifted and once again the world had color. Although very weak, he was alive again. Baga-Bars looked at his hands and then, with awe, at this Nastaj-Bugu-Han who could raise the dead.

"Be at peace, for you are welcome here my friend" spoke the man, holding out his hand with a smile. Baga-Bars could not understand these words, but he knew the intent as he smiled back and grasped the others hand in friendship.

© 2001 Todd Bailey