The Mongoliad Book Three

Luo’s face was ashen. “Idiot,” he hissed. “We only needed the sprout. Why didn’t you take it?”

 

 

“It wasn’t there.” Seeing Luo’s expression, he shook his head. “It had been harvested already,” he explained. “We had no choice but to take the banner. Otherwise—”

 

Luo cut him off with a wordless hiss. “Do not think you know what is best. The banner is too old to sustain life. What we need—”

 

“Commander,” one of the soldiers interrupted Luo. He pointed toward the rise that blocked the caravan from view. The light was softer now, no longer the harsh radiance of hungry fires. White plumes of smoke hung in the night air. “The Mongols are putting out the fires,” he said.

 

Luo’s companion swayed unsteadily. “If they know why we are here, they will not negotiate.” He pointed toward Gansukh. “Your hostage will not save you.”

 

The soldiers guarding Gansukh shuffled uneasily.

 

“I cannot run,” the man said softly, indicating the dried blood on his head. “I can barely walk...”

 

Luo lowered his head briefly in acknowledgment; then, with a swift jab, he ran his sword into the belly of the wounded Chinese man. The look of confusion on the other man’s face faded, and the tension in his face eased. His gaze remained locked on Luo, and he grunted lightly as Luo pulled the sword free. Something akin to a smile came to his lips.

 

All the air had fled from Lian’s lungs. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t scream. She could only stare in horror as the dying Chinese man tried to speak, failed, and crumpled to the ground.

 

Luo whirled, his face twisted into a demonic mask. “Kill them both,” he snarled. “And then run. Run as fast as you can, for the Mongol dogs will be at your heels.”

 

His sword was red with blood, and as he strode toward them, the paralysis that had held Lian vanished. “Wait,” she cried.

 

Luo didn’t slow down. He raised his sword.

 

“Let me do it.” Lian was as surprised as Luo to hear the words come out of her mouth.

 

Luo hesitated. “What?”

 

“If I kill him,” she said, letting the words run out of her mouth of their own accord. She didn’t think about where they were coming from or what they meant. All she knew was that if she wavered, if she showed any fear or hesitation, this sudden resolve would vanish. “If I kill him, will you take me with you?”

 

Luo’s mouth twisted, finally shaping itself into a nasty leer. “You want revenge on this dog?”

 

Lian stood firm, pushing her chin out and throwing her shoulders back. “This one. All of them.”

 

Luo examined her, letting his eyes roam over her body. His sword dipped slightly, but his body was still rigid.

 

“Commander,” one of the guards interrupted.

 

“Go,” Luo shouted, the muscles in his neck standing out. “Run, you cowards!” His eyes remained locked on Lian.

 

Two of the four guards took him at his word, dropping their spears and sprinting away into the darkness. One of the remaining pair lingered, unwilling to turn his back on Gansukh or leave his weapon. The gap-toothed one stayed, and Lian’s gaze fell on the dagger in his belt again.

 

“Let me do it,” she said again, and pointed at the dagger. “That’s his dagger. I want to kill him with it.”

 

Luo laughed, and Lian tried to not flinch at the sound, though it made her skin crawl. He nodded to his man, who pulled the blade free of his belt and tossed it to the ground. “Go,” Luo said to the remaining pair. “I...we,” he amended with a curt nod at Lian, “will meet you at the second camp.”

 

The soldiers needed no other prompting, and they too fled.

 

“Pick it up,” Luo said, indicating the knife as he walked toward the captive Mongol.

 

Gansukh hadn’t understood any of their conversation, but the look on Luo’s face was plain enough, as was the bloody sword. As the Chinese commander approached him, Gansukh strained at his bonds while moving slowly backward, giving himself some room to maneuver. He wouldn’t be able to dodge Luo’s attack, but his expression said he wasn’t going to make it easy for the Chinese man.

 

Lian crouched, and with a shaking hand, reached for her dagger. Was she going to go through with this? Could she actually kill a man? In his own way, Gansukh had tried to warn her at the feast. He had said she would be punished if she were caught with the weapon, which was true, but there was another message behind his admonition. Why carry it, he had implied, if you aren’t willing to use it? She slipped the blade from its sheath, and wrapped her fingers tightly about the handle.

 

She had no choice.

 

Neal Stephenson & Erik Bear & Greg Bear & Joseph Brassey & Nicole Galland & Cooper Moo & Mark Teppo's books