Bo-Jing Follows His Wife

Satisfied that he had established himself as the new protector of the Master’s Palace, mourning his lost beauty, and missing his wife, Bo-Jing concluded that it was time to return home, using the wondrous teleportation room in the Master’s sanctum. In addition to his trusted henchmen, he invited two natives of Hunza to join his retinue, a crafty carpenter named Nagar Ahmar and a farmer who took a new name, Lin Zhou. Lin Zhou’s parents had emigrated from Zhou-Deng to Hunza when he was infant, attracted by tale’s of the Master’s wisdom and entrusting their son into his care. Having known noting but toil, Lin Zhou was strong and brave, and eager to see the world beyond the Master’s wheat fields. Bo-Jing promised that Lin Zhou would meet his consort, the Khatun, and then they would travel together to the “island of angels” where Bo-Jing hoped he would regain the youthful appearance he had lost in an instant in his encounter with the true spirit of Hosadas. Salt also invited two of the Master’s former followers to join her—Zhak-Shi a former red-robed enforcer skilled in both swords and sorcery and Wu-Jin-Fen, a young man from Zhou-Deng who had traveled to Hunza and joined the Master’s ranks as a scribe. Wu-Jin-Fen had learned much about Hunza and was eager to learn magic from Salt. Finally, Hu-Fei, the longtime resister to the Master’s tyranny who had assisted the party in evading the enforcers was happy to accept Tetsukichi’s invitation to accompany him to the “land of horses.” Hyamsam and Bangqiu, meanwhile, elected to remain in the Master’s palace, experimenting with the various strange objects which Hosadas had accumulated over the centuries.

It was a strange homecoming for Bo-Jing. He read in the faces of his people their discomfort with his changed appearance. Or so he believed. Soon, his protege Batu revealed the truth. The Khatun, despairing of  the long and unexplained absence of her her unnaturally handsome husband, had gone to look for him. For almost a year she had waited for news of her husband’s success or failure in his fight against the Master. For almost a year, she had waited for her husband to return and give a name to the son whom she had borne him. And then, five weeks ago, she had entrusted the boy to a nurse and selecting as her companions only Altani the holy man and Narnuteng the woman warrior, Narantsetseg the unhappy Khatun had set off for the Land of Hunza, determined to learn the fate of her husband.

And so Bo-Jing wasted no time going after his wife. He called for Tses-Hami, his flying horse and within an hour was flying toward the mountains and the monastery that would have been Narantsetseg’s most reasonable intermediate destination on the way to Hunza.

Bo-Jing, on Tse-Hami’s back, flew through stinging rain, reaching the lights of the Monastery as night was falling. The monks confirmed that they had sheltered the Khatun, they had encouraged her to wait with them where it was safe, but that she had been determined to find him. The monks that, after a good night’s sleep, they would show Bo-Jing the maps of Hunza by which Narantsetseg had planned her route.

The next morning, with the monks’ help, Bo-Jing made his plan to find Narantsetseg. The next stage of the journey would be much easier for him than it was for her. A hundred leagues of undeveloped wilderness lay between the monastery and the steep ridge that marked the edge of Hunza. No towns, no inns, no roads—nothing but thick pine forests and deep meadows in this unclaimed territory. The monks had directed Naransetseg to simply rid west, keeping the pinnacle of Mt. Baltistan in the middle of her horizon until she reached the snowpack, then cutting southwest into Hunza by way of the Green Pass. Bo-Jing would do the same, but traveling by air, would bypass the many obstacles that his wife likely encountered and also without the risk of losing sight of his landmark. The sky was clear and the moon would be full; Bo-Jing decided to fly at night, expecting to be nearly invisible on his jet black steed.

And so Bo-Jing set out. What an exhilarating night. The snow-capped Mt. Baltistan shone like a beacon in the moonlight and the small lakes below shimmered like dropped coins. Bo-Jing wrapped himself in furs against the cold and urged Tse-Hami onwards. As dawn broke and the peaks of Mt. Baltistan turned pink, Bo-Jing and Tse-Hami glided downwards, seeking the break in the ridge that would be the Green Pass. They found their way, passing over the ridge and into the warmer air of the Hunza Valley. With additional plans buts to seek out a large settlement, Bo-Jing decided that he and his steed should first rest and eat. Rather than land on the flatlands, Bo-Jing identified a pile of boulders atop a steep-sided bluff as a place where he could sleep soundly with little fear of being discovered.

As Tse-Hami circled the identified refuge, seeaking the past landing site, Bo-Jing spotted an enormous, bright red reptilian monster—a dragon! At the same moment, the dragon noticed the uninvited guests and blasted them with a storm of fire. Before Bo-Jing could react, Tse-Hami took evasive action, diving steeply. The flames licked Tse-Hami’s flanks but thanks to the barding gifted him by the King of the East, Tse-Hami suffered no harm. The khimori raised his head and flapped his wings hard, but Bo-Jing urged him into a diving, counter-attack. Bo-Jing leapt off of Tse-Hami and onto the back of the dragon, drawing his sword and driving it into the tender flesh under the dragon’s wing. The dragon rolled slashing out with its claws, striking Tse-Hami as the Khimori climbed back into the sky. Bo-Jing landed heavily on the rocks. Bo-Jing leapt to his feet parrying a series of lashed from the dragon’s tail. Once again, Bo-Jing climbed onto the dragon’s back, running up its spine, and jumping from one side of its back to the other as the dragon rolled one way and the other. He stabbed the dragon between the shoulders and then slid off as the dragon twisted its neck to come at him with jaws wide enough to fully engulf him. Bo-Jing dropped to his knees, then sprang up with his sword above him; the dragon lifted its chin and Bo-Jing’s blade sank through its scales and into its throat; Bo-Jing made a single clean slash and opened an enormous wound, releasing a torrent of blood. The dragon fell to the earth and was still.

Tse-Hami landed and, after confirming that his rider was alive, turned his attention to the long, thick grass. Bo-Jing unsaddled his mount and then rifled through his saddlebags, making a quick uncouth meal of dried yak meat and mare’s milk. He then set upon butchering the dragon.

Its anatomy was different from that of a mammal or bird, but Bo-Jing, relying on half-remembered lore, took the tongue, the heart, and what he thought were the lungs. And then he noticed the sounds of wild animals below him. He saddled Tse-Hami and they flew down to investigate. There were four bears. And they were not friendly. Their growls sounded like speech and when Bo-Jing attempted to command them using one of his magic rings, the bears’ speech took on an obscene and insulting tone. Bo-Jing returned to the top of the bluff. He cut off one of the dragon’s legs and threw it down. The bears descended and began to tear off and devour its flesh.

Bo-Jing spent the next several hours deskinning the dragon, while listening to the sounds of bellowing bear. He listened to them fight over the dragon’s leg and when the bone had been cleaned, the bears began to climb the steep bluff again. The bears were nimble and determined, but it was an arduous climb. Bo-Jing finished his work of flaying and packing the scaly hide, and then took to the sky. He was exhausted and Tse-Hami also need to rest.

Spotting a lone farmhouse, he landed about a mile away, then repacked his burden to obscure Tse-Hami’s wings and the dragon hide under a tarp. They hobbled toward the farmhouse and were met with blank stares. The residents, young but haggard farmers said nothing. Bo-Jing muttered a few words in Hun-Yi and offered them a handful of silver coins. They nodded and showed him to their woodshed. They brought him water for washing and he fell asleep.

He was awakened by the sound of laughing children. “Bird Horse! Bird Horse!”

Tse-Hami, unburdened and uncovered, was lying on the ground, allowing three small children to climb on him, taking turns running their fingers through his mane his tail and his feathering wings. When Bo-Jing emerged from the shed, the children’s mother made of show of horrified anger, shouting and slapping. Father gave Bo-Jing a dark stare. Bo-Jing smiled and produced a gold coin, while saying some friendly words to the children. Bo-Jing’s hosts took the coin, killed a chicken ,and began preparing a delicious meal.

Bo Jing napped, eat heartily, and then slipped all the next day, leaving as the sun set, after a hasty good-bye. He flew westward, looking for the lights of isolated farmsteads to roughly follow the course of a road. When he saw the lights of a larger settlement. He landed, , repacked his burden to conceal Tse-Hemi’s wings and once again wrapped a tarp over the dragon parts, and approached the town on foot.

He received an uneasy welcome. It was the town of Magden, which he had visited with his friends nearly a year ago on their mission to track down and defeat the Master. He remembered the town and the guards at the gate remembered him.

They looked excited at first, and then surprised, even embarrassed as he drew closer. One of them spoke Zhou and asked what Bo-Jing was carrying. He refused to answer them and asked for information about his wife. Some red-robed Guardians of Knowledge were summoned. They demanded to know why Bo-Jing had come and brushed off his questions about his wife. “No, what is the real reason.” In the ensuing bitter exchange of words, the Guardians revealed that they had seen some foreigners a few weeks ago, but “They did not comport themselves in a civilized manner” and had not stayed long. Reading the Guardian’s body language, Bo-Jing surmised that his wife and her companions had taken the south road out of Magden. Preparing to leave, Bo-Jing glared at his interlocutors and informed them that he was telling the truth. “Last year, I came to kill your Master, but I have done that, so I don’t need to do it again.”

He leapt onto Tse-Hemi’s back and galloped away. Without making any friends, he managed to gather enough scraps of information about his wife to know she had, followed his trail from the year before and traveled from Magden to Gilgat. He was met there with open hostility, but just before any weapons came out, a Guardian appeared. His name was Batar and he had encountered Khatun the week before. Seeing her dedication to her husband and based on the rumors about the “”one with a face like the morning sun,” he had offered her his assistance, even though he considered her mission a risky one.

“She said that you had gone to seek the Master’s Palace. And someone had told her that, without the Master’s invitation, there was no way to reach his palace except by way of the Dark Wall. So I told her how to get to the Dark Wall.”

Bo-Jing demanded to know the rumors. “What are people saying?”

“That it was time for the Master to choose a successor. And that you were the one he had chosen.”

“No. I killed the Master.”

Batar collapsed in grief, and the guards once again reached for their swords. But Batar ordered them back.

“So, you are not the Chosen One. The clouds are gathering, and the seal will break. But still there is a woman who loves you and I have likely sent her to her death as she is going to the Dark Wall and among the ones who will meet her, there will not be one whose face is like the morning sun.

“Before you release your wrath on me, allow me to give you the same advice I gave her, I can tell you the way to the Dark Wall. Perhaps you will reach her before she reaches the Wall.”

Bo-Jing relented and heard Batar’s directions: “Go now, if you hope to reach her in time. No reason to wait as you are not welcome in Gilgat. If you survive long enough to remember your time, remember me as the one who helped you when no one else would.”