Editing Batu (section)

==The Ambush==

It was early spring, and the skies were crystal clear.  Batu could see for miles, down the slopes of the foothills and across the Steppe to the mountains, hundreds of leagues to the east. As a Prince, it was unusual for Batu to ride with a caravan, but today was different. Today was Tsagaan Sar (White Moon), the New Year, and this year was the Year of the Tiger.

Two springs ago, the Grand Master had encountered a female white tiger cub on his annual travel to the monastery at Cron (mouth in common parlance).  She was hidden in a cave close to the river and, by all accounts, the Grand Master had heard her cry as he passed by.  It had lost its mother, so the monks brought her back to Batuhan, where she had been kept in the palace’s cherry orchard ever since. She was the gentlest creature and, according to the monks, wise beyond her years.

As happened every year, the Batuhani would meet at the top of the sacred valley, known as Khöndii, which was believed to be where the first settlement was erected, long before the Great War.  All would be dressed in their finest robes and there would be a huge feast.  Before the Khan built Kran Ghul, this would be the place where all the nomadic peoples of the tribe would meet to celebrate New Year.  Now, the whole tribe would simply have a day of rest. A male and female member of each household would be invited to the Feast.  (This was normally the eldest living couple of a single lineage, which could mean that numbers gathered might exceed one thousand.) It was custom to bring effigies of the animals the year had been named after, made from the element of that year.  The effigies would be offered to Shang-Ti and placed in twelve caves – six in the steep slopes to either side of the narrow fluvial plane.

The Batuhan scholars worked out a 12 luna cycle in a 12-year cycle which repeated (table opposite), which meant that this was the 160th year after the end of the Great War and the beginning of the new era of peace. There were great portents about the significance of the year and even more so given the Batuhani had a female white tiger to venerate.

Batu knew that, as he approached the top of the valley, he would be met with a stunning vision of hundreds of brightly dressed humans in the valley below, all busying themselves to make ready for the day-long feast.  There would be plays and games, drinking and dancing well into the night.

For now, he just had to focus on leading the small party south from the castle to Khondii, along the precipitous mountain paths that had only just been freed of their winter snows. He rode his trusty steed, Khusher, with Grelt (a friend since childhood) riding just behind.  They were followed by two monks who had been entrusted with the safe keeping of Tsagaan Khatan (Khat for short), the majestic white tigress.  She had no lead and was very happy to walk along behind and occasionally nuzzle her keepers.  Batu was very surprised at how calm everyone was in the presence of such a potentially dangerous animal.

Grelt had more confidence than Batu about his safety.  Yesterday evening, when they discussed this short trip, he was full of humour and teased Batu that such a majestic animal would only eat highborn; so, Grelt reasoned, that he would be safe after Khat had gorged herself on a Prince. Batu chuckled at this happy memory; admittedly, he had begun to relax, even though some of the paths had deteriorated over winter and were barely passable. He even began to enjoy himself when they finally rounded Kurun Ghul (a huge spur that pointed like a massive finger accusingly to the east), as its southernmost slopes were much gentler and the path became considerably wider.

Just as he admired the beauty of the Steppe, which stretched out to his right, there was a shout from higher up the slope to his left and he was conscious of something striking him in the neck.  The sharp stabbing pain soon subsided into a dull realisation that something was wrong. Batu looked urgently around; firstly, at Grelt - who seemed to have also been struck and was slowly sliding to the right, eventually falling from his horse.  Secondly, Batu saw the Kharash infantry who had leapt down the slope towards them.  Then he saw Khat charge up the slope to engage, her mouth wide and her teeth ready to inflict massive wounds.  Finally, before he too fell from his mount, Batu saw both of Khat’s keepers die, shot many times with poisoned, sharply barbed arrows.
 
After falling, Batu, rolled repeatedly, down the slope to the east of the path. When momentarily looking back to the mountains, he saw that the Kharash had expected Khat’s assault and had thrown a net over her.  The net was weighted at the edges making it impossible for the tigress to go far before being completely incapacitated.  Even as he struggled to maintain his consciousness, it dawned on Batu that he had not simply been killed – he and Grelt did not suffer the same fate as the monks.

Just as that realisation crystallised in his mind, he woke (apparently having been unconscious for a long time).  Clothed only in his silk trousers and shirt, he was cold.  He seemed to have been jolted to consciousness as the wagon he was in struck a rock.  His hands were bound, which he thought unnecessary as he was in an iron, padlocked cage.  Sitting up he realised immediately where he was.  Death was all around – the metallic smell of blood was unmistakable.  His wagon was crossing the river Ghorki, which flowed left to right across his direction of travel, from the mountains out to the Steppe; its water – normally crystal clear – was crimson with blood.  Strewn all around were the brightly dressed bodies of his people, who had gathered for the celebrations, slaughtered as they lay out their feasts and offerings.  Hundreds lay all around, peppered by arrows, punctured by lances or mutilated hideously by sword and axe.

Batu forced himself to look further up the valley at where his family would have been.  He would never again be able to remove the image of what he saw there from his mind.  All his family had been impaled on ten-foot-long poles, which entered the anus and appeared again at the base of the skull, stopping the body falling forward.  It was an art, he knew, that the Kharash had taken years to perfect.  Centre most of the line was his father and all of his family – even the children – were there.  The slaughter was unimaginable and Batu thought, hoped, he was in a nightmare from which he would soon awake.

Next to him, in the cage, was Grelt, who had not yet gained consciousness.  Why did they keep them alive he wondered?  Then he caught sight of the tiger; she was in another cage, alone, similarly mounted on a wagon.  She looked miserable.  Grelt grunted and shook his head.
“What happened?” he asked without yet having open his eyes.  The cart had left the river and was climbing the slope as it continued to head south.  
“We have been caught by the Kharash.” Batu answered plainly.
“What?” shrieked Grelt now with eyes wide open. He was immediately silent again as he took in the enormity of the situation.  Then he seemed to panic.  “They have got it!” He yelled, before hurriedly whispering, “the Runestone…”

Batu understood – Grelt had been given the Sacred Runestone to take to the festival.  That explained why he had accompanied them and why Batu was given the otherwise mundane task. The Runestone would have been placed in front of the shrine to Shang Ti  to proclaim the tribe’s respect to the God.  Grelt was a devout follower and a trusted disciple of the Temple to Shang Ti; he would have seen this as a great honour.  The Runestone had mystical powers too. Both knew well the stories of the miraculous cures that the stone had performed.  They fell into silence, both consumed in misery.

Later that evening, after the Kharash had stopped to make camp, there was a considerable kerfuffle.  More Kharash arrived bringing prisoners, although the deafening, high-pitched howling and wailing coming from the nets the Kharash had slung across their horses, signalled that these prisoners were not human.  Eventually, and with much brutality, two wolves were deposited into a spare cage and hoisted onto the back of a wagon.  One was white as the clouds that hurtled across the wide, endless sky; the other was as grey as the mountain slopes.  Few slept that night as the howling continued despite the guards’ abundant use of the rod. (The Kharash hit their prisoners with iron rods, designed to fit through the bars of the cage.)

Grelt and Batu had spoken little to one another the next day – mostly to avoid being hit with a metal rod – but, as a Kharash horseman rode past, Grelt whispered, “He’s the leader.”
“Oh?” grunted Batu, not terribly interested as he’d long given up hope of escape – at least while the carts were moving.  He had considered attempting to break the lock last night.  Using the howling to mask the sound, he tried to prise open the padlock when the guard that was assigned to his cage had gone for a shit.  Unfortunately, it proved too strong.  But that was definitely the time – if escape was even a possibility that was.

“He is wearing a Runestone, look.”  Grelt nodded at the leader as the Kharash turned to look over their cage into the distant Steppe beyond.  True enough, there was a Runestone hung around the Kharash’s armoured neck on a black-metal chain.  It was subtly different though – the same gold marking on black stone, but the marks were different, Batu was sure, from their Runestone.
“It’s different,” whispered Grelt who had come to the same conclusion.

There were rumoured to be 6 stones – each a key to the entrance to some great temple somewhere.  Batu cursed himself for not paying attention at religious studies.  What was it..? Ah yes, there was one for each religion – or was that one for each region of Minnerwe or was it Khagul Gurung?  Batu dug his nails into his arm trying to recall those endless summers of time wasted in tedious lectures, but little more sprang to mind.  Grelt could not take his eye off the leader, which drew unwanted attention.  The leader shouted for the caravan to stop and he ordered that Grelt be brought out of the cage.  Batu did his best to protest but received such a blow to his head with the metal rod that he passed out.  When he came too, Grelt was gone and the wagons were lumbering once again along the path that followed the mountains south towards the desert.  Batu was more careful now, to avoid the leader’s gaze as he moved up and down inspecting his prisoners.

Another day passed, ending with the usual routine of corralling the wagons and posting guards.   This time the evening kerfuffle brought prisoners from different directions and under the control of very different people.  The leader himself, with just two other Kharash, brought in an unconscious humanoid, the likes of which Batu had never seen.  It was taller and thinner than a human, with sharper features and a long face.  Slumped forward as it was dragged to its cage, it was alive but only just.  Batu realised that it was quite tall – easily over six feet – and was definitely skinny. As it passed Batu’s cage, heading towards its own confinement, he saw that its skin was rough and yellow and its head was shaved - save for a single braid which ran down its back. Its ears were definitely pointed. 

Pointed too were the ears of the other prisoners brought in from over the mountains.  Elves batu realised, having read about them but having never seen one in the flesh.  They were rumoured to have lived widely in these lands before the Great War but since have all but vanished to the edges of Minnerwe.  There were two – a male and a female – both too tired to struggle against their captors, who were not Kharash.  In fact, they bore more resemblance to the yellow skinned humanoid who had been thrown into the cage with the elves a moment before.  There were eight of them, all dressed in bejewelled armour and carrying huge swords and axes.  They stood apart from the Karash and only the leader of the evil troop spoke with them in a tongue Batu did not understand.  In the cold moonlight – emanating from a moon that had begun to wane since its completeness three days before – Batu saw the leader hand over the Runestone of Shang Ti.  He also noted that the strange looking creature was careful not to touch the stone; instead, he held open a bag into which the Kharash commander dropped the artefact.  Then the leader of the yellow skins noticed one of their kin had been imprisoned along with with their elves.  A rapid conversation followed but Batu was surprised to see the yellow skins seemed happy with whatever the Kharash had said.  Suddenly, these strange, yellow-skinned creatures disappeared – quite literally, disappeared!

The next day after the prisoners had been fed a meagre portion of mutton stew and weevil-infested bread, the wagons rolled off, unwinding from the circle in which they had been arranged.  Batu saw that the yellow skinned humanoid was in the second-to-last wagon, just ahead of the wolves – who had calmed their misery a little.  Batu was in the second wagon from the front (on his own) with the tigress at the front, heavily guarded.  It was still early and the sun had only just crested the mountain peaks to his left when chaos broke out.