Save the Last Bullet for God (27 page)

When we entered the fortress, we saw
enormously complex paths, passages, tunnels, overlapping houses,
and a lot of vehicles and buildings that we didn’t understand. The
channels had obviously been full of water, and now were dry lakes.
The stifled air, the crowds, and the smell of rotting carcasses was
suffocating. I couldn’t stay there for long. However, others
plundered with passion for two days and nights, exacting their
revenge for the long wait they had endured.

…

After growing bored with harvesting spoils,
everyone gathered, and we prepared to set off again. On the morning
of our departure, my father made a surprising announcement.

“Money and spoils. What are these? They were
too late. The black tent had been raised. Raze everything to the
ground. Sever every head. Not even a single cat shall stay
alive.”

The soldiers executed the orders without
question. It took two days to end the lives of those in the
fortress. No one escaped, and there were no witnesses. The streets
filled with corpses, and the empty channels overflowed with blood.
When we left, over half a million were dead.

Cuci

When does a man know that he exists? How
long is he aware of that existence? I think the answer is always
the same: You exist from the time you notice your first moment.
Your brain doesn’t belong to you before you experience your first
moment, and you don’t own yourself. In order to have individuality,
you must have your own memories.

My first memory is from when I was
three years old. I was running in the meadow near our tent among
high grasses, falling down, touching the earth with my hands and
face, and rolling over and over and turning my face toward the sky.
As I lay on my back, I could see the deep blue sky and the
brightness of the sun on the horizon. Not even a single cloud was
in the sky, the grasses around me waved with the wind, and I could
hear the
whinnies
and
mehs
of the horses and sheep. When I
straightened up and reached for my hat, now fallen from my head, I
saw the bright yellow and black eyes of a creature as thick as my
fingers.

The thing I remember most is the terror as
the creature slithered by and I screamed. Suddenly, I felt a warm
breath on my neck, and then I was being dragged. I felt the warm
fur as this new creature dragged me all the way to the door of our
tent. It set me down and I saw its deep blue eyes as the female
wolf appeared right in front of my face. It came closer and smelled
my tummy and neck many times. After walking around me twice, it
disappeared until it returned with my hat.

As masses of human bodies gathered around
me, my cries subsided and I once again felt the warmth of my
mother’s bosom—a physical reminder of my first moment of life. My
dreams from that time are mostly blank, but I can say that I was
never over the unrest I felt as the black and yellow creature
continued to visit my nightmares.

My early memories can mostly be described as
peaceful and happy. I remember playing with the other children,
running after sheep, and watching for opportunities to ride horses.
I also remember being scolded by our mothers for fighting those
same children and yelling after the wolf, cheering it on when it
fought with the dogs. I also remember getting caught playing with
my father’s sword while he was asleep, and my happiness when he
gave me my own unsharpened sword that he had the ironsmith
specially craft for me.

I remember the first time I rode a horse and
how I fell from it many times. I will never forget the night I
tried to sleep on the horse for the first time and how I gave up
when I didn’t sleep until morning.

I also remember shooting arrows--arrows that
got bigger and more difficult to handle as I competed with the
other children. I tossed and turned all night when I lost and awoke
early in the morning to stubbornly practice shooting more. Even
though I was a prince, these were the common memories of every
Mongolian boy.

The soldiers and their weapons were my
biggest fascination. Without letting them know I was there, I would
quietly watch the guards standing in front of the door of my
father’s tent. The guards would change at certain intervals, and I
would always spy on them as I waited most eagerly for Brother
Cebe’s shift. He was the tallest and strongest of the guards, and
he had the brightest armor and the sharpest sword among my father’s
men. He had a penetrating look which distinguished him among the
thousands of soldiers. It was a pleasure to watch how he remained
on guard without moving and how his muscles stiffened when he was
alerted. Like the wolf, Brother Cebe was careful in his silence and
always bore a posture that gave confidence to those around him.

If he was in a good mood he would show me
how to hold a sword, how to pull the bowstring, and how to jump on
and off a horse without falling.

I couldn’t hide my sadness when Brother Cebe
told me, “I am going to my hometown, a faraway place with a thick
forest.” Then he added, “But I will be back, and I will bring my
brother with me. He is a little bigger than you, but he is not a
warrior like you. Can you make friends with him and teach him what
you know?”

“Of course I can. But you should come back
quickly,” I said.

Days and seasons passed as I
impatiently waited for Brother Cebe’s return and thought about
teaching his brother. When the guards told me Brother Cebe had
returned, I rode my horse excitedly out to welcome him. I
accompanied him for a while and, as I circled around the group, my
eyes moved to Cebe’s brother. He was a thin child who was an
unskilled rider, and his face looked sickly and pale. His strange
clothes consisted of a thick coat and fur. The only special thing
about him was his two honey-colored eyes, which always looked
straight and bright.
So this is my
student?

I greeted the boy in disappointment and
continued riding my horse beside Brother Cebe while I asked many
questions of the exhausted cavalry. The evening sky was darkening
when we arrived at the camp. After receiving the greetings and
delivering their gifts, both brothers headed to their tent.

In the morning, after a restful night’s
sleep, I ran to the tent of Brother Cebe with fresh excitement.
Brother Cebe wasn’t there, but the thin boy was still sleeping
under the fur. An old woman was occupied with unpacking in the
tent. I talked to her in a voice loud enough to wake up the
sleeping boy. When the boy finally awoke, he was visibly surprised
by his surroundings. He looked around and smiled when he saw me.
The old woman gave us some hot soup and, as the boy and I ate, we
waited patiently for the other to break the silence.

“My name is Cuci,” I finally said.

“I’m Sobutay.” It was the first time I’d
heard the boy speak. He had a weak, strange voice, like those I had
imagined from faraway lands.

“Did you come here to be a great warrior
like your brother?” I asked.

“My father sent me. He told me it was time.
I missed my brother a lot. But I guess I can’t be as good as
him.”

“If you work hard, why not?” I said without
believing myself. “Let’s go. Let me show you around.”

When we left the tent, the wolf came to us.
Sobutay was scared at first, but, when I let the wolf get closer to
him, he relaxed and affectionately caressed its neck. He was amazed
that it was a real wolf. He said he had never seen anything that
big and blue before.

While wandering around, I spoke freely and
showed him how the tents were organized, who lived where, which
paths were best to use, and where to find the hole for the toilet.
I also showed him where the kids gathered in the plain, a safe area
shielded from the wind by the surrounding rocks.

It was the day of the solar eclipse and we
watched as dozens of children talked excitedly amongst themselves,
watched the phenomenon, and cheered.

When the event was over, the kids returned
to their activities. Some of them practiced archery and some of
them just gathered together and talked. When we got closer to them,
all the activities stopped, and several children encircled us, laid
eyes on the stranger, and began to ask questions. The magic of a
new stranger was soon broken when Sobutay couldn’t quickly answer
questions about himself, and soon the children began to make fun of
him. In order to protect my guest, I tried to answer the questions
on his behalf, but it didn’t help.

I realized that Batu, the leader of the
child gang, had noticed Sobutay’s weakness and was trying to
humiliate him in order to solidify his status in the group. He
stood next to Sobutay and began to pull at the boy’s fur. Batu was
two or three times bigger and, as Sobutay tried to brush off his
interrogator, Batu responded by getting more animated and began
shaking him.

I didn’t know what to do, but I weakly tried
to prevent matters from getting out of hand. I regretted that I had
brought Sobutay to the plain so soon. Without preparing him, I had
put him in a situation where I couldn’t protect him. I thought of
dragging him away by his arm. He was my responsibility, after
all.

Sobutay looked at the area surrounding him
with a measured expression, then, to Batu’s and all of our
surprise, he pushed away Batu’s hand and took a step back. Sobutay
used this brief moment of confusion to his advantage and threw a
sudden, shocking punch that crashed right between Batu’s chin and
ear. Everyone—including me—stopped and stared in shocked
silence.

Sobutay didn’t linger, but quickly
turned and ran away as fast as he could. I didn’t expect the punch,
and I didn’t expect his sudden escape.
If
you wanted to fight
, I thought,
then why did you run away, and if you planned to run away,
then why did you start the fight?”

Batu’s shock had worn off and was now
replaced with rage. He screamed as he chased after Sobutay, and I
stood still with the rest as I watched him run Sobutay down like a
tiger chasing an antelope. In those chases, the tiger always
won.

Sobutay ran extremely fast, but Batu quickly
closed the gap as he kicked up dust clouds from the grass. I could
only think that Batu would give the far weaker Sobutay a deadly
beating as soon as he caught him.

Suddenly, in mid-stride, Sobutay stopped,
turned and planted himself with his right shoulder lowered. Batu
could not stop as fast as Sobutay and his face crunched into
Sobutay’s shoulder, instantly breaking his nose and a handful of
teeth. Air exploded out of his lungs and sent blood and teeth
flying from his mouth.

Slightly rocked back on his heels, Sobutay
took one step and kicked Batu in his stomach. Those of us who had
been watching raced to the scene and saw Sobutay standing over Batu
with a rock in his hand and his foot on his opponent’s bleeding
mouth. Probably for the first time in his short life, Batu feared
death. We just stood still and quietly watched, waiting to see what
happened next.

His face now crooked and covered in blood,
Batu tried to say something, but the blood in his mouth and
Sobutay’s foot on his throat prevented him from managing anything
beyond a weak growl. A few of Batu’s close friends stepped forward
to intervene, but the wolf, who had been watching, stepped into
view and growled until Batu’s supporters backed down.

Sobutay stopped staring at us and looked
down at his opponent. Suddenly, he hurled the stone down with such
force that it smashed Batu’s skull. Blood and bone scattered on the
ground, and one of the boy’s eyeballs was blown from its socket.
Sobutay showed no excitement or panic. With blood spatter on his
face, he scanned us with his eyes, turned and calmly walked toward
the tents. The wolf followed him, and so did I. I wanted to turn
back and scream, “Here is your new leader!” But everyone already
knew.

Later, as we sat quietly in the tent, I
couldn’t endure the silence. “You shocked everyone…Was that
necessary?”

“With the absence of leadership, that bulky
boy unnecessarily took a risk and forced someone he didn’t know to
fight. If you take an unnecessary risk and you do so often, you
will come across an unexpected situation and get unnecessarily
hurt. I, on the other hand, took a necessary risk. I showed a
strong stance that will endure for the rest of my life. The
decision was easy: I have chosen my path.”

As he continued his calm and thoughtful
speech with his strange accent, I realized how this weak boy had
already become a young warrior in front of my eyes.

“But did you have to kill him? You had
already defeated him and won.”

“The broken nose and teeth would have
healed, but the boy’s pain would only have increased. Whenever he
saw me, he would remember what he had lost and try to regain his
lost power. He would keep trying this until one of us was dead. In
order to survive and continue, I couldn’t leave him alive. Just
like in the forest: sometimes you kill a bear in order to wander
around its territory comfortably rather than wandering around the
territory in discomfort. But all the words are empty now. It’s
done.”

Batu’s family had to submit to the
death—which happened after a fair fight. It didn’t suit them to
oppose Cebe anyway. My father had already said that he didn’t want
any feuds. Although no action was taken, the pain was still there,
and it always would be.

Days and weeks passed. We spent the days in
heavy labor, shooting arrows, stretching spreads, wrestling, and
riding horses. We did the work we were given as if it were a
competition. Sobutay, who was not very good at riding horses,
overcame his inability and started catching me—sometimes even
passing me. In exchange, he taught me the techniques he had learned
from his ironsmith father, and we tried to melt iron in a fire and
shape it. With his help, I made a dagger, albeit a crooked one.