Moon tip

One.

Drawing his hands back quickly, nearly gasping with pain, Nasir cursed himself and sat back. These Mongol night guards, the ‘khevtuuls’, really were hidden devils. They are unseen yet would not allow you even a move. You imagine that they would lie low, hidden amidst the terrains of the land, and yet, seconds within setting foot outside of the camps’ borders, the faint rasps of swords drawn from leather sheaths would softly fill your ears.

Nasir blew his hands, pulling back to check them in the sliver of moonlight invited in from the tipi’s entrance; thankfully the skins were intact. He was not sure the cause, a boot’s kick or the end of the spear rod. He would not dare to check - there was no need as he was caught now. He made out distantly the flecks of light from Subeedei’s marquees, his chachir, that indicated his Lord was not asleep at this hour of late. Naturally, if his old scribe were sleepless from empty worry, it follows that the general who has every worry in the world would not join slumber. Nasir was surprised at his own foolish acts, drawn from the sheer curiosity concerning his young Lord’s planning and thoughts.

The six by six foot tipi, small but cosy, was his alone. He had chosen and brought it with him out of his then decent fortunes, some years ago after he leaving the Khar Kidan. It was one of very few items brought with him and had been so much of a comfort for years on end, that he had grown to hold it dear. A brave Syrian warrior, fifty years of age, collected considerable riches over the years of battle victory between Red and Yellow Sea, and the spoils could feed several families, yet he never had any interest in those riches, along with the endless comforts they might have offered. He never had the time or need for such indulgence, he had thought. Beginning as a hired guard to merchants’ camel camps and various carriages on the Silk Road, his first trip took him from Basra to Iskandir and cost two broken spears. Subsequently he rose the ranks to the chief of the guards and after several voyages and lives of few good men, he finally received the substantial tip that opened the door to become one of the Sultan Saladin’s royal guards. Nasir was particularly lucky as from there a few battles with Christian crusaders, he earnt himself the title of the ‘Desert Panther’. For him the Christian knights’ long sharp spears, or the Saxon warriors’ heavy lances were no cause for worry. It was but a single gaze of a beauty’s eye, witnessed by the palm trees and the Eastern moon one fateful night, that undid twenty years of hard work. One fateful night that brought his apparent castle of content and stability crumbling down.

Poor Nasir fell prey to love, to one of the Saladin’s favourite courtesans and alas he would not know that the faintest light of the moon would show his face to spying eunuch eyes. Of course, this ended badly for Nasir and thanks only to the loyalty of his guards he managed to escape, with nothing more than the clothing on his back that night.

Knowing the long reach of the Saladin’s power, he travelled with caution for the next two years. Upon crossing the Abeskun Sea, he ended up in the Khorezm Sheikh’s land. Thankfully, with these new lands with plenty of political unrest, his courage and resourcefulness led to a careful and delicate journey into the heart of the powers at play, and Nasir found himself in the centre of the intricate triangle forged between the Khorezm Sheikh Mohammed, Khar Kidan’s Lord Djur and Naiman’s Quchulug Khan. This was six years ago.

His service to the Great Saladin on top of the encounter that had drawn the Saladin’s wrath (Nasir let that detail remain unhidden) painted him as an exceptional asset to Mohammed and Nasir got another break. His contributions, in particular for his service to Khorezm, which in itself helped them to gain independence from Khar Kidan, were highly valued and led to great appraisal. Nevertheless, not unusual for his own destiny, it was by no mistake of his own but a woman’s eyes that again brought him to ruin and another flee. However, for the next occasion, Nasir did not reveal these details to anyone. He only vaguely spoke of these events once to Dogolkhu Cherbi , a great Mongol Khan’s close adviser, when he visited Khar Khorum, a year ago. This was the very reason, he believed, that has ensured his employment to the Cherbi and Nasir now rides as Subeedei’s interpreter. With this title, he has travelled through two Altai mountains – the great (Ikh) Altai and Dzungar Altai and now lies in the third Altai – Ilkanat’s mountain passage, joined by Subeedei’s vast army.

Both the chief Boorchi and the cherbi Dogolkhu made it clear that demonstration of his past life’s successes would be demanded by participating in this journey and so the outcome too held great consequence. As a result Nasir is worried about the deal that lay ahead and it was primary source of his restlessness on this night. This was the very reason that made Nasir to break the rules tonight of all nights, in attempt to figure out what is taking place in his General’s chachir and that attempt would nearly cost him his fingers, even possibly his old head.

What exactly had led to the transpiration of these events? The answer was found in a traveller that was captured by lookout guards and brought to Subeedei’s attention. The lone traveller looked like a lowly nut and fruit merchant, despite knowing not a single Mongol word, it was apparent that he had been promised enough silver in order to take this risky endeavour into invader’s war camp. Nasir was brought in to interpret the message. It was not that difficult as the man repeated simply:

‘Our messenger has been murdered’.

He proceeded to then procure a small object from his wide belt, wrapped in a piece of cloth. Subeedei unwrapped it discreetly and replied with a barely perceptible nod of confirmation. Nasir could guess that it was proof of the intel, although he could not read Subeedei’s reaction to it in, which surprised him. His usually amenable Commander, who enjoyed visiting his soldiers’ camps and joining their bantering in the evenings and downtimes, had not emerged from his chachir since. This made Nasir worried.

Well, he thought to himself, if one Subeedei’s many spies were caught by chance or through their own faults at any time, it should not be such a cause for Subeedei’s concern by now. The targets of the Mongol army; Merkit brothers Qudu and Chuluun, were just a half day’s ride away in the small settlement on Chu River. Nasir knew that Subeedei had a very detailed map of every road in and out of the small town and surrounding area, the exact number of his enemy’s army they would face, and also their leaders’ names and locations. What more could be needed?

Sounds of gongs, a total of four, softly drifted away across the camp. One hour till dawn. Nasir, who had been aiding many great kings of his time, as well as the one who had used a dagger between them, knew well that this was the time to make his use for Subeedei. This life was like a dishonest courtesan, the moments of opportunity rare, and should one present it, it must be grasped without hesitance. Nasir knew this well too.

Now, the first light of dawn began to thin the night’s darkness and all was very quiet in camp. Suddenly, Nasir caught the muffled sounds of conversation in his ear, and got up quickly, carefully opening the cover of his tipi. So stunned by what he could see, Nasir forgot all caution he should carry.

Subbeedei’s chachir, made of a fine white tapestry made from Tangut wool, was the backdrop for two human shadows sitting opposite each other, outlined by sharp lantern light. One passed a small object to the other, momentarily crossing the light, and for a split moment Nasir could made out a moon shaped arrow tip.

Suddenly he felt he should move; the instinct that kept him alive all those battles kicked in and without knowing why he let go of the cover and withdrew his body. A split second later, he heard the thunk of an arrow flying through the thick cover that had been held by him moments ago and it sank deep into the soft ground.

Fear re-instilled, Nasir only just managed a quick roll onto his bedding, before the tipi split open and the two shadows entered. With no hesitation or word or light; it was clear they had no trouble seeing, one of them grabbed Nasir’s shoulder and pulled him up, whilst the other rested the sharp spear tip under his chin. Feeling the sharp edge of the weapon that may invade his skin at any moment, Nasir managed quietly utter,

‘Wait I have a word for the Lord’.

Knowing that if he screamed for help or made any harsh movement, the Mongols war rule of ‘kill without a sound’ would be surely satisfied, Nasir felt the pressure of the spear tip slightly ease.

‘I have a message for the Lord’

He repeated clearly this time with a little more conviction. They must have noticed the tone; the spear tip was retracted wholly now. Nasir sat back on his knees and was trying with all his might to read the two khevtuuls. Still without a word both soldiers glanced each other a moment or two and reached an agreement. One of them softly kicked him. Nasir read this as a sign to get up and quickly got onto his feet grabbing his belt. He felt the overwhelming gratitude that comes with getting out of danger with your life, so much so he moved like drunk and nearly hit a pole of the tipi before finding the entrance.

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