Chapter 1

An End and a Beginning

I was born without a name. A name can define a person who they are, what they are like, how they will react to certain situations. My search throughout all my life had two purposes: to make a name for myself and to avenge my kin.

My quest began at the age of six when my family was slaughtered. I had once belonged to the now deceased Arula tribe; Jelmi Sengun had been my father and the khan of my tribe. I have wished to avenge my father's tribe ever since.

I do not remember much else about my life before the incident. I was born in early spring, right after one of the coldest winters my ancestors ever had, and even though it was spring the temperature had not varied much. When the midwife threw the horse bones to see my fate it was told that my life would be as cold as the winter. My mother and father scoffed at this saying that she was mistaken. I grew up well cared for as any Mongol child though treated rough enough to grow up tough.

My father was strong-willed in spirit and guided his tribe strongly with the dedication with which he cared for his family. He knew how to be harsh when he had to be and would discipline my brothers and I severely when we disobeyed him or were caught fighting.

It was an early June morning when it happened; I had just woken and was still a little groggy from sleep. With the sun just starting to creep over the horizon people were still getting up in their yurts and starting to do their tasks.

The place that we camped was not too far from a stream from which we got our water. I got down to wash my face when a cloud of dust off to the south caught my attention. A moment later two blows from a scout's horn blew to alert the warriors, a third would mean the incoming party was hostile.

The few warriors that were present made their way to the south side. It was most likely to be my father returning from his mission but one could never be too cautious. Four days prior to this my father had taken most of the men of our tribe to raid another tribe, the Oronar, which had stolen several heads of cattle and Mustang ponies. They were due the previous night but one more night was not enough to cause worry.

As the riders came into view amongst the dust it was apparent that they were not from the Arula tribe nor were they Oronar. They were Chinese. The third horn blew but it was too late the riders had notched arrows in their bows and shot a volley that rained down upon the village as the horn blew. Most of the warriors were cut down within the first two volleys and those that were left fell to the horsemen.

As soon as the first two horns had been blown my mother came out of our yurt and started to look for me. When she found me the Chinese were almost to the village. She hid me in some bulrushes by the water's edge and told me to stay there. After that she left me and ran back to the yurt, I did not see her leave but rather a passing rider set the tent ablaze. I waited, watching as the riders mercilessly killed all of my tribesmen; without any warriors left to protect them, the women and children could only run.

I could hear the cries and screams of the slaughter. After the sounds reached their apex, I could not stand it any longer; I was the son of a khan, I had to do something. I ran into the open towards the man that I took to be the leader by the banner that he carried and grabbed a metal poker from a fireplace. I got within a few meters from him when I was spotted. The sight of a small boy running with a poker must had amused him at first for he did nothing to me except call to his friends and point at me- then I buried the tip of the poker into his ankle. He yelled with pain but quickly recovered and turned the horse around to get an angle from which to strike at me. I backed up a bit to avoid the horse but did not see the sword, the sharp blade cut a deep slash in my face in reaction to the wound I staggered backwards and tripped on a corpse, I hit my head against a rock and went unconscious.

When I woke, the rides had long since left and it was nearing midday. That which remained of the yurts was still burning and the birds already had started to clean the carcasses. The only trace that the Chinese left was the banner, the one the man I charged carried, that had been stuck in the ground. As soon as I got my bearings, I felt a sharp pain on my face. I painfully felt a gash traveled from the center of my forehead down at an angle over my left eye till it reached the left end of my jawbone. By sheer luck there was no damage done to my eye and the only permanent damage was that the scar never faded.

I got up and walked through the village towards my father's yurt, or at least what remained of it. Only because of how long we had spent at that location could I differentiate one pile of ashes from another. I shifted through the remains of the yurt pulling things that though they did not burn offered no value after being exposed to the fire. Tears mingled with the blood that still dripped from the gash on my face and fell on the dry ground. My feet dragged as I searched I hit something soft. It took only a short moment for me to realize what it was; the smell of burning flesh is unmistakable, especially when up close. Still in shock I tried to wake my mother by pushing against her, the flesh had been badly burnt and parts scraped off under my touch, it was enough to make me stop. But before leaving I saw a small glint of metal underneath my mother's corpse; a sword, my father's sword. Whenever he would leave the village he left the sword there as an assurance that he would return, this was the first time that it failed.

I was soon to find out that I was not the only survivor of the attack, Kasar, one of my father's bondsmen had been out checking his marmot traps, on the other side of a nearby hill. He heard the cries and stayed hidden on top of the hill. After the raiders left, he came down to see if there were any survivors.

"I thought that you were all dead. It appears that the son Jelmi Sengun is as resistant as his father." He held my head up while looking at my newly acquired scar, being one of the elders he knew much about curing injuries and such. "Let me see that, it looks like you got a souvenir there."

For the next nine years I found myself several times wishing that the riders had killed me and not left me lying there, then I would not have to endure the torture of having no family left in the world, alone with nobody or nothing save that sword, my father's sword. The same sword with which he had entrusted to me to protect the tribe when he left and the same sword has always been strapped to my back since.

During that time, Kasar taught me all I know about survival techniques, fighting, and the use of the bow and of the sword. We stayed there in the village, or at least what had not been burned down, living off what we could catch or find. All of the survival techniques I know I learned for him.

"What do I have to live for?" I asked him one day.

"You have your family to avenge. And if you do not achieve this, you have no honor. He said firmly grasping my shoulders."

Those words changed my life forever and gave me a new purpose in life. I lived by my father's sword and swore that by it would be the means by which the men who raided my village would die. I marked the insignia, with help from Kasar, shown on the red banner by engraving it into the skin of my left arm, though I knew not what it meant. I assured myself that should I see them again I would recognize them and obtain my revenge.

During that time, I forgot my name. Not by any accident or by the knock on my head, rather I did so purposely. Kasar made me forget my name so that I would have no honor till I had obtained my revenge.

"A man without a name cannot have any honor," he said one night over a fire "When you have obtained your revenge return here and I will tell you what it is."

One bright spring day, just after the snows of my fifteenth winter had melted, I decided to leave the steppes. For all it held were bad memories and scaring thoughts of the relatives long dead. Kasar told me that it would be best to head south towards China.

It was all I had, I had no reason for going in any other direction, for what would I do except wander, survive, maybe find a wife in another tribe- a wife with whom I could start a family. Family, the relation I most desired while also being the hardest thing for me to achieve. I could not settle down and have a family, at least not until my enemies had none themselves, until their remains were forgotten on a battlefield. Till they lay on the ground and crows picked at their decaying flesh. Then my family would be avenged, than I would rest.

The next few months were spent, for the most part, wandering the steppes. I did the best that I could to avoid any other tribes least they take me for an intruder and kill me; upon leaving Kasar I joined the lowest class amongst the Mongolians: the drifters. Drifters where people who had been banished from their tribe or, like myself, was the only survivor of a tribe that had been attacked. Most drifters were just trying to survive, but every now and then one would be hostile or try to rob a village. The vast planes that seemed to stretch forever eventually gave way to marshlands then in turn to forests.

After a few months of wandering along the steppes, the vast deserted planes that seemed to stretch forever eventually gave way to marshlands then in turn to forests. In the steppes there were very few types of animals that could be found: wolves, marmots, dogs, and birds of prey formed the majority of the food chain. But here in the woodlands there were a vast assortment of creatures, most of which I had only heard about. The plants were different as well, in the steppes trees could only be found in groups some two kilometers thick, but with very little variety. The forest however yielded fruit in almost every bush.

But this was not the extent of my discoveries, on the seventh month of my wanderings I came upon what I could only describe as a rock wall. It seemed to stretch on indefinitely in either direction and had to be at least ten meter tall if not more. Since I could no longer go south I decided to head east.

The next several hours were spent walking along the Wall, I was wondering if I would encounter any sign of life or a way to cross over the Wall otherwise than climbing it. All of a sudden, I almost walked into what seemed a camp of a band of merchants. By the clothes that they wore, I could tell they were not Mongols but Chinese. I hid in the bushes nearby, not knowing if I should trust them or not.

I lay there till dark not making a noise. After some time I realized that one of them had left without my noticing. Suddenly I was grabbed from behind and struck; I tried to fight back but was stuck again. I was too limp to lift up my arms the man dragged me into the light of the firelight. I passed out after that.

When I woke up my head was aching. I slowly opened my eyes to give the impression that I remained asleep. One of the Chinese men motioned towards me. Either I was a horrible faker or he had been watching me for any signs of movement. Since I could not continue my ruse, I decided to have a look around. I found that one of my legs had been chained to a group of young Mongols about the same age as me. The chains kept going until they reached a covered wagon loaded over with coats, furs and treasures. A few feet away a small campfire was burning with three people around it. The man closest to me was holding in his hands my father's sword!

"Get your hands off my father's sword you Chinese filth! I yelled in rage. How dare he dare even touch that sword?" The man responded in what I took to be Chinese. It had not occurred to me till then that maybe they did not speak Mongolian.

As I was still looking when around another man came out of the shrubs near me carrying a bow, arrows and the evening's catch. I shot out my free leg and struck the man's shin, causing him to fall in pain. I quickly picked up the fallen weapons and aimed it at the closest of the three remaining men.

"Give me the sword," I figured they did not understand me so I motioned them to do my bidding, "Give me the sword and the keys for the chains now!" Stupid Chinese, thinking that they could imprison me that easily and take my father's sword. When I managed to escape I would teach them to think twice before trying to capture me again. They did nothing but sit there looking at me, this started to get annoying. They were just sitting there as if they thought that I would not shoot them. I was about to, "This is your last chance." Suddenly a fifth man came from behind me, he struck me sharply from behind. The last thing I remember was the ground growing closer and closer till we joined.

I woke with the sharp pain in my head doubled since when I woke the first time. The Chinese man who I had assaulted came over and kicked me hard in the stomach, increasing my pain to the lower portion of my body. After he joined his companions by the fireside, the oldest of the youth chained with me crawled over towards me.

"That was a brave move, my brother," he commented to me, "too bad two others and me have already tried it before. I almost got as far as you did but did not have the courage to do it, that's when the guard struck me." I ignored him at first; I focused my attention instead on the fact that my legs and arms had been tied separately.

"First," I replied, choosing my words with care so to not offend him, "I am not your brother and I would appreciate it if you left me alone."

"Fine," he replied as if he were used to getting such a reply.

I looked over at the other boys and counted a total of seven other than the one who had spoken to me. I ventured a question after a while.

"Who are these men? Certainly not merchants?" I asked. I was getting curious. I figured that it was good to know the most I could about my captors.

"From the best I can gather," began the youth. "They are slave drivers but cover as merchants. I was the first of the eight of us to be captured."He went on to tell how he was on his first hunting trip alone on one of his father's prized horses. The slavers had attacked him from behind and dismounted him with their lassos. As he grew accustomed to the life of a slave, others joined him in his imprisonment. He explained that the slavers never strayed more than a few miles from the Wall (it was he who told me the name of it) and took kids from the nearby tribes trading goods and on the side selling Mongol children as slave to the Chinese on the other side of the Wall. As he told me his story, I wondered what it must be like, to have a family to care for him and now worry for him.

"One by one, when the others were caught I helped them stay alive, after some time they started to look to me as their leader. If what I think is right you were the last one of us that they could take, they did not even have chains for you so they used rope." he remarked with a sigh, "we will probably head back toward wherever they pass over the Wall tomorrow. Soon we will have no chance for any attempt to make an escape."

He joined the others, I started to pity for the sorry band that lay chained next to me. Many of them could not have been older than eight or nine years old. Taken away from their family at the same tender age as I had but probably without the skills for survival. I started to think back on that day, when everything I held dear was taken away in a few hours. Slowly I drifted into sleep.