The Tiger-Headed Horseman (29 page)

Once Elder Chuluun and Lily's supporters had reached a safe distance, they stopped. Tears rolled down their faces. The old man turned back towards where they had come. ‘The winner has many friends; the loser has good friends.’

27

Lily opened her eyes. There was no sign of the battle, which came as an enormous relief. There was little sign of anything unusual. Slowly she came to realise that she was standing in the spirit world, though she wasn't certain whether she was here by choice or not. She walked towards the bridge where she normally met Tsara. She hadn't seen her spirit friend for some time. She was excited at the prospect of catching up with her again. Her spirit friend had been the only person Lily had ever been able to talk freely with. Among the herders, sentiment was seen as a luxury. Friendship was based upon one's ability to be useful to and help another; not empathy. Lily had always loved her father but she would never have described their relationship as close. Lily's spirit friend had been there to lean on whenever darkness had come; she hoped that she would be somewhere nearby now.

Lily tried to figure out if she had come to the spirit world in a trance or some other way. She could not bring herself to consider what that other way might have entailed. She hoped beyond hope that she was in a trance. The puppies that she had come to care for were in the spirit world. There were various odd-looking spirits walking around, although, much to her dismay, there was no sign of Mark Anthony. Lily knew that it could only be a matter of time before her friend would turn up. She knew there was no point in fretting over it. Her friend had obviously been busy doing something else recently. In the
meantime Lily decided she would make herself look presentable. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken a proper wash. She walked down the side of the bridge towards the water. Her bare feet felt soothed by the cool grasses that grew there.

As she bent down towards the river, she thought she caught a glimpse of Tsara. Sitting upright, she looked up and down the river for a sight of her friend. She decided she must have imagined it. She cupped her hand and drank deeply from the cool water. It tasted heavenly. Lily dangled her feet into the river. The gentle current washed away her worries and she was bathed with a feeling of rest. She stooped over the riverbank to wash her hair. As she leaned in close to the water she opened her eyes. Lily screamed and moved away from the river. She edged her way closer to the edge. She took a deep breath and looked over. She let out a short cry. Staring back from the riverbed was the face of her friend. She sank back away from the water's edge. Shaking her head, she tried to find a rational explanation. Lily knew that her spirit friend was just that, a spirit; she knew that spirits were already dead. What she couldn't understand was why her friend was lying at the bottom of the river. She peered over the edge once more. It was definitely Tsara. As she began to move away she noticed that Tsara's face moved with her. She closed one eye. Tsara did likewise. Lily opened her mouth as wide as she could. Tsara followed her every move. Finally Lily reached out to the water and shook its surface. It became evident that there was nothing beneath it. Lily was looking at her own reflection but her own reflection had taken on the appearance of Tsara.

Lily was confused. She may have been a shawoman, but she was no conjurer nor was she a philosopher. Whatever had caused Tsara's face to be reflected from her own had to have some straightforward explanation. Much as Lily explored every
possibility there was only one that made any sense. She and Tsara must have had some link more profound than simply being friends. As the sun rose higher into the sky, Lily continued to look for an explanation. Presently she saw a man walking up the riverbank towards her. He was walking with purpose. When he was close to her, his face lit up. Tears began to well in his eyes.

‘How long I have waited to see you,’ said the man. He stretched out his arms and approached Lily, who backed away.

‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘I have never seen you before.’ Lily knew this to be true but there was something about this man that seemed somewhat familiar. Again he tried to embrace her and again she side-stepped his advances. He laughed at her.

‘You really don't recognize me, do you?’ he joked. ‘After all we've been through and you say you don't know me. Have you any idea how much that hurts? Especially after all these years?’

‘No,’ replied Lily. ‘Who are you? I think you must have me mistaken for somebody else. My name is Lily. I am a herder and shawoman. I am here to speak to my good friend Tsara. I need her help urgently. An evil man is threatening to destroy my nation, my father is missing in prison somewhere and I have a stupid riddle that doesn't seem to mean anything.’

‘Tell me about this friend of yours,’ asked the man. He stood leaning against a tree, one hand in his pocket. He was not taking the situation nearly as seriously as Lily.

‘Tsara?’ asked Lily.

‘Yes,’ replied the man, ‘that's the one.’

‘Tsara is the closest friend I have ever had,’ said Lily. ‘She has been my friend for as long as I can remember. We have grown up together, although with her being a spirit she hasn't really changed very much. She is kind and wise. She believes in justice, like I do, and she has been helping me as I strive to destroy the criminal that is threatening my country.’

‘Tell me,’ said the man, ‘is she beautiful like you?’

‘Please, stop being childish,’ said Lily. ‘I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. Though yes, Tsara is beautiful. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met.’

‘Does she have a husband or boyfriend, this Tsara, this friend of yours?’ asked the man.

‘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 Odval'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.