James Heneage - The Towers of Samarcand

But he’d been seen.

In his hurry, he’d slipped on a stone and landed headlong in the water. When he looked up, pushing hair from his eyes, he saw a rider a hundred paces to his front, watching him. At least he assumed that he was watching him. It was difficult to be sure for the man wore a long mask of painted wood that obscured all of his face and much of his chest. The masked man raised his bow, an arrow on its string, and pointed it directly at Luke.

Very slowly, Luke got up, his arms raised in the universal sign of submission. The rider didn’t move. Luke looked hard at him. The mask was very large and the eye-slits narrow. Firing accurately would be a challenge at that range. He could either flee or advance. He didn’t have much time and he wanted the horse. He began to advance.

The rider did nothing. Luke was making his task easier; the range was narrowing with every step. Luke held his head high. He was watching the horse and the horse was watching him. It was young and skittish and nervous of the currents flowing about its feet. The sudden glance of sunlight breaking on stone wasn’t part of its life on the steppe. Still Luke watched it.

I, too, am afraid. I will come to you and we will master our fear together .

Their eyes were locked. The space between them was fifty paces, then forty.

But there’s something I want you to do .

It was twenty paces now and still the man aimed the bow at Luke. At this range, he couldn’t miss.

Now!

The horse reared. For a moment it looked as if the rider would keep to his saddle. Then it reared again and the man came down. The bow fell and its arrow glanced against a rock. Luke sprang forward as the horse scrambled to the bank, water exploding around its hooves. The rider thrashed about, trying to draw his sword, but the current was too strong and the water too cold. Then Luke was upon him and the mask had been pulled away and the man’s head was between two powerful hands that were pushing it under.

The fight was short and vicious. The man was strong and wanted to live and he gripped Luke’s forearms with a force that seemed beyond human. Twice his face came up, eyes bulging with defiance as he choked and bit at Luke’s hands, but each time Luke forced him back beneath the water. The heaving chest rose a last time and told of lungs full of water and the man’s hands fell away. Then he was still and the bubbles rose from purple lips and Luke knew that he was dead. Exhausted, he rolled away into the water.

The horse .

He looked up at the bank and the horse was there, calmly cropping the grass. Luke whistled softly. The animal raised its head, grass hanging slack from its mouth and recognition in its eye. A fly settled on its nose and was shaken away but the horse remained still. Luke rose, picked up the bow and walked unsteadily to the bank, opening and closing his fists to restore the circulation. He felt suddenly exhilarated by the prospect of climbing on to the back of this horse. Then he was beside it and his hands were deep within the thick hair of its mane and his mouth was next to its ear and the bond that was without explanation was being made. He put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle.

We will master our fear together .

It was half a mile to the camp and he knew the raiders were ahead of him. He dug his heels into the horse’s sides and it leapt forward, relieved to be free of the water. They found a path that ran beside the riverbank and Luke urged the horse into a canter. By now it was nearly night and the rim of the escarpment was outlined by the sun that had just gone down behind it. He reached the junction of the two valleys and turned north for the camp. Up ahead there was fire in the sky.

Luke kicked harder, breaking into a gallop even as the sides of the valley grew steeper. There were trees in front of them with a halo of light above them. Then he was in the trees and the smell of burning was among them and the sound of fighting only just beyond. He emerged from the wood and before him was chaos. Ahead were the ribbed skeletons of tents aflame and silhouettes between. Arrows flew and people were running and falling. He saw swords arc and heard the screams of men as they fell. There was an explosion of flame as a tent collapsed.

‘Lug!’

It was a girl. He strained to see who but was blinded by the glare. Then he saw Arkal, hand in hand with Tsaurig, running towards him as fast as she could. The pair reached him and Arkal bent double to regain her breath. She was holding her leg, obviously in pain. Dismounting, Luke wondered fleetingly why he’d never asked her about it.

‘Lug …’ She was panting hard and the words came in spasms. ‘Lug, you must not go on. They …’ She looked behind and then up at him and there was desperation in her eyes. ‘They’re looking for someone … someone not from our tribe.’

She straightened. ‘They were looking for you , Lug.’

Tsaurig began to cry. Big tears ran down his cheeks and pooled in the folds of his deel. He grabbed his sister’s hand again.

‘Where are your parents?’ Luke asked softly.

The girl didn’t answer.

‘Arkal, are your parents alive?’ he asked, taking her free hand.

Arkal shrugged. She pushed hair from her eyes. There was blood on her forehead. ‘Lug, why do they want you?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I will find out. Where have they gone?’

‘They have taken our horses and gone back to where they came from.’

Luke looked beyond her to the remains of the camp. The flames were dying now. There were no horses. He let go of her hand. ‘Arkal, take Tsaurig into the wood and stay there until it’s safe to go back. If the camp has lost its horses then I must go after them myself.’

Arkal began to protest, then slowly nodded her head. ‘Be careful, Lug.’ She turned and began to walk towards the trees, Tsaurig behind her. She stopped. Looking back, she asked: ‘You’ll come back, won’t you?’

Luke smiled. ‘Of course.’

Then he mounted and pulled the horse’s head towards the slope. He kicked and rode up the valley’s side, pausing once to see Arkal reach the wood. At the top, he reined in and looked out at the vast connected shadow of land and sky. The stars blinked and shimmered and fell like snow over the steppe. Luke patted the neck of his pony and leant down.

Which way did they go?

There was wind here, a soft, soothing thing that came from far, far away and had begun in the east. Luke lifted his head and breathed deeply. The smell of horse was faint but unmistakable.

They have gone east .

He looked again at the stars and turned his pony into the wind and pressed his heels to its sides. The land was flat and the grass new and the going easy. He rode with his head low on the animal’s neck and he talked all the while as it covered the ground in its short, uneven strides.

*

It was halfway through the night when the raiders stopped to rest. The Germiyan horses were spread out across the plain and being herded together. Luke could see them quite clearly in the light of the moon that had risen above the mountains to the west. He dismounted and slapped his horse away and lay down on the dark side of a low hill to watch. The riders were erecting a makeshift pen around the horses, their bows slung across their shoulders. They were many miles from the camp by now, too far for anyone to reach them without horses, and they spoke in loud, excited voices.

Some of them had made a fire and food was being taken from saddlebags to cook. Luke heard song and saw the silhouette of an airag sack being passed around. He looked over to the pen where there were men posted at each corner. One of them shouted to his friends and the airag was brought over. Laughter rose into the night, the smell of spiced mutton rising with it, and drink was passed between men who laughed louder as it did its work.