Mongolian Interlude II
Karakorum
The Zeppelin descended towards the ruins of Karakorum.
The Countess of Tunguska was faintly amused at the commotion her arrival caused among the band of Mongol cavalry that made camp there. Exactly how Bastable had manage to sneak up on them with a huge airship over an open steppe was beyond her but his skills were undeniable and invaluable.
Even before they had gotten to the makeshift mooring mast and the ladders have been lowered the green skinned Countess leapt elegantly from the door. Her black Cossack greatcoat flared out behind her like the wings of a dark angel, which was of course the effect she hoped for. This band of Mongolians were not easily impressed by anything less than the supernatural.
Her landing was perfect, like that of a gymnast and barely without breaking stride she went straight towards a band of Mongol warriors who'd come hurrying up to the landing site.
"You there! Take me to your chieftain!"
To her annoyance the Mongolians only bowed slightly. She knew they considered her odd looks and capabilities to be signs of mystic powers but she also knew they considered themselves led by a war chief possessed by some spirit of the steppes.
She was shown to a tent with two burly guards outside and as she approached to enter she found the entrance blocked by the carbines of the sentries.
Unnaturally green eyes narrowed dangerously and a faint crackle of fire was heard as alien flames flared up around the hands of the Countess.
"Step aside, fools or die where you stand."
"Don't threaten my warriors, Countess." The voice was young and clear but held the tone of someone who was used to giving orders and be obeyed.
The tent flap was pushed to the side and the guards presented arms to the young woman that stepped out. She was half a head shorter than the Russian Countess but no less striking a figure.
Red hair fluttered in the cool autumn winds and her unbuttoned blouse partially exposed a tanned and battle scarred body, lean and powerful like that of a young she-wolf. An eye patch made from lacquered wood where her right eye had been had a demonic eye painted on it to replace the missing one. The left eye was a greyish green that could glitter with playful warmth or fiery anger but now it was a cold green gaze that met and matched the emerald glare of the Countess.
They had met on several occasions in service of Baron Ungern-Sternberg and since both women were beautiful, fierce and strong willed they had come do dislike each other with a passion from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other.
"About time you came to greet your betters, Fire Princess." the Russian woman said, making sure her tone held no respect whatsoever for the title she'd used.
The red headed woman shrugged.
"I don't see any of my 'betters' around. I see my brave equals." She swept her hand out to encompass the camp of warriors. " and I see you but no betters in sight." She pretended to shade her eye and spied out across the steppe.
A growl of outrage escaped the Countess who raised her still flaming hand as if to lash out at the younger woman.
"Douse that flame or lose the hand." the redhead said in a mock-carefree voice as her fingers toyed with the pommel of the cavalry sabre at her side. "What do you want Countess? I thought you were supposed to be in Urga."
The Russian woman doused her flame, not because she was afraid of the Fire Princess but because she knew her news would hit harder.
"I've just come from Urga where I've just gassed a few thousand men."
That got a reaction from the war chief.
"You did what?"
"Gassed a few thousand Bolsheviks. The Baron is defeated and the Communists will consume this land too. You have no cause left, Princess, nothing to fight for at all."
"That rattled the little vixen." the Countess thought as she saw the look in the other woman's eye.
The Fire Princess soon regained her composure.
"Neither have you, Countess so what will you be doing now?"
"Oh I don't know. I could take whatever wealth I have and live a life of luxury in Shanghai, Macao or Istanbul."
"But you won't." A statement, not a question.
"No. No I won't. You see there's the difference between us, Princess. I don't need a cause to hide behind, I don't need to justify my actions. Unlike you I am honest when I steal, raid and destroy. I don't do it to stop Bolshevism, free the people of Mongolia or play little games of Robin Hood to aid ungrateful peasants. I do what I want because I simply enjoy it."
"That makes you evil, Countess."
"Yes. Yes it does." She threw her head back and laughed long and loud at her confession of her nature. "Well, enough of this chit-chat. My men have unloaded the last supplies I'll ever send you so from now on you are on your own. I doubt we will ever meet again, Princess without a Cause."
The 'Princess without a Cause' watched the tall Russian woman spin around and walk back to her airship. She buttoned her blouse and turned to her guards. "Have the crates carried over here. I will inspect them later."
As the Zeppelin sailed off into the distance the war chief walked to the outskirts of the camp to be alone with her thoughts.
"I can't hide behind a cause any more. She was right and I hate her for it. Now I must face myself again."
It had been a strange set of circumstances that had made her leader of this war band. She had staggered through a snowstorm away from the fires of The Betrayal that had stolen the love of her life from her. Injured, one eye ruined and festering with infection and close to freezing to death she had stumbled into the dirty camp of outcasts and rejects of Mongolian society.
These men were the shirkers, the cowards and losers of the land and were disdainfully known merely as The Mongrel Dogs. The butt of jokes and insults they had no dignity and no honour left and so drifted across the steppe to eke out a miserable living until the day when the Fire Princess came to them.
At first they had thought her a Russian exile who could be exchanged for ransom but her mumbled words were not in Russian. They talked about slitting her throat as she lay feverish and helpless in their camp but none of them had the courage to do the deed and so they finally decided to consult a soothsayer. That way, if they were told to kill her it wouldn't be their fault but the will of the Gods.
They found a holy man who could read fortunes and in exchange for a freshly stolen lamb he agreed to do so. Bones were cast, prayers were offered and the seer spoke.
"Dredge the impure of her dead eye and it will see the road to victory through the mists of the Spirit World. If you follow her into battle she will be the undoing of your flesh and the rebirth of your honour. Your destiny in this life and the afterlife are now bound together. Victory, death and glory will be yours if you kneel before her. Your ancestors will welcome you in the afterlife after your inevitable end."
The holy man would say no more and the Mongrel Dogs knew that this was Fate.
To a man they vowed to make the red headed strange woman their leader and serve her, if only to at least bring some joy to their ancestors.
Now the few score of warriors that remained were all loyal beyond doubt to their Fire Princess. She had taken these filthy men and reincarnated them while still alive. She cheered them on where others spat at them. She learned from them the ways of the horse and the bow and the steppe and taught them the ways to avoid the fields of fire of machine guns and to understand the dangers of modern artillery. She gave to them the will to fight as men and she gave them plans and raids so daring and clever that all Mongolia would marvel.
"They fight like mad dogs!" people would whisper and so the Mongrel Dogs became the Mad Dogs.
They had named her the Fire Princess because of the colour of her hair, her fierce temper and because she must be possessed by a powerful spirit of the Outer World.
That was four years ago.
Since then she had lead them to battle against the Chinese Warlords who would occupy Mongolia, against Russian Bolsheviks and against Japanese raiding parties. The Mad Dogs had suffered their share of losses but never known defeat.
When the Mad Dogs had followed her to the banner of The Baron and only her voice could stay the savage hand of that sacred lunatic when his cruelty became too much to bear. She alone dared to stand up to the Green Countess, another woman obviously possessed by spirits.
To the Fire Princess nothing was impossible.
Now that Princess looked out across the steppe, her back against the camp feeling very alone and very tired.
Slowly she made her way back to her warriors who had gathered around the crates the Countess had delivered.
She tried to hide her gloomy disposition as well as she could but her warriors sensed it and they too became increasingly morose. The mood became darker as the evening progressed and the Mad Dogs fell as silent as their Princess.
As night fell they withdrew to their tents with a sense of impending Destiny despite, or perhaps because of, the strangely mournful silence of their war chief.
The munitions and the carbines that the Countess had delivered were wrapped in old newspapers and the young woman sat by her fire, tossing page after page on the fire while staring into the flames.
The night passed and still she could not sleep.
"Wherever shall I go? Whatever shall I do?"
She was about to throw a page of the Shanghai Times on the fire when her eye fell upon something that almost made her heart stop.
Scarcely daring to believe what she saw she began to read.
"Wanted, dead or alive. For actions of piracy, smuggling and destruction of private property the Chinese, British, Japanese and US governments are paying the sum of 25'000 Pounds Sterling at the successful capture of Captain Ronald Dean Stoppable."
She felt faint, intoxicated, invigorated, reading the words again and again. Then she saw the date at the top of the page. A mere month ago!
Ron was alive!
As the sun rose over Karakorum the Mad Dogs were awakened by a wild war cry of joy unlike anything they had ever heard before from the Fire Princess.
"Rise up my Mad Dogs! It is time to ride!"
They hurried to break camp and mounted the horses.
"Where to, Khan? Where to Princess?" they called, elated at the sight of the wondrous smile of their leader.
"We ride south and east! To China! To fields of glory and hope thought lost!"
Kimberly Ann Possible thrust her sabre towards the rising sun as the wind caressed her face like the touch of a lover.
"Mad Dogs!" she shouted over the cheers of her brave warriors. "Mad Dogs, go!"