GuangZe stamped his hooves nervously, but to his credit stood his ground. Long heard horses’ hooves pounding against the rocky ground around a bend ahead, and he fought to free himself. It was no use. The more he struggled, the worse he got tangled in the coarse webbing. He realized that GuangZe’s head and legs were unobstructed, so he squeezed his thighs to get the horse moving and steered it back out of the pass, onto the sand.
Long fought gravity, motion, and the ever-shifting sand itself to remain balanced atop GuangZe as his mind raced for a solution. Then he remembered the knife NgGung had given him.
Long managed to wriggle his right hand free of his heavy glove, and he reached behind his sash with two fingers, pulling the small knife from its sheath. It was amazingly sharp, and he made quick work of the webbing. He sliced enough of the net away to free his arms and head, then he resheathed the knife, gripped the reins tightly, and squeezed his thighs together a second time.
GuangZe began to gallop away from the pass, and whoever was on those other horses had not made it out of the rocks yet. Long thought he was doing well until he heard a strange, drawn-out bellowing, and an arrow zipped past his ear. He glanced over his shoulder to see two black-turbaned archers on horseback clear the pass and come at him from his left flank. A third man cleared the pass and came at him from the right, only this man sat high atop a double-humped luotuo. A camel!
A second arrow whizzed past Long’s head. The archers were on stout, stubby-legged Mongolian horses, which Long knew were relatively slow on normal ground but appeared to be better adapted to running through the sand than GuangZe. GuangZe was now wearing the hoof boots, which had filled with sand and were making it difficult for him to keep in a straight line. The two horsemen were gaining on him.
As for the camel, it was faster still. Its gigantic foot pads spread its weight over a much greater surface than the horses’ hooves, and it loped effortlessly after him, complaining loudly as its rider swayed wildly back and forth atop it like Malao atop the mast of Charles’ sloop. The camel rider was the one who had dropped the net, and he had a large musket slung across his back. Fortunately, he was moving around so much there was no way that he would be able to unsling it, let alone fire it accurately.
A third arrow zinged past Long’s left shoulder, and one of the archers called out, “Stop! These are only warning shots. Give us your horse and we will leave you with your life. Attempt to flee and we will hunt you down!”
Long was not about to stop for anyone. He looked back over his right shoulder and was shocked to see the camel nearly upon him. More surprising, the rider was now standing precariously between the camel’s massive humps. The fool was going to jump! Long’s eyes widened and he steered GuangZe away from the camel, but it was too late. The camel rider leaped through the air, his shoulder hitting Long square in the back.
Long sailed off his horse into the cold sand; the man landed on one side of him, and Long’s water skins slipped off the horse to the other side. The sand was deep here, and it softened Long’s fall. He heard the camel scream and caught a glimpse of the beast tumbling end over end. The force of the man’s jump must have caused it to stumble.
Long looked over and saw that GuangZe had stopped.
The camel rider shouted beside him, and Long turned to see him staggering to his feet while reaching behind his back for his musket.
“I don’t think so,” Long hissed. He jumped to his feet and spun toward the man, snapping his fist outward and catching the camel rider on the chin. The man went down hard on his backside and Long leaped at him, but the man was still alert enough to turn away so that Long ended up landing on his back. Long ripped the musket from his attacker’s sling and stood, backing away.
“Face me,” Long commanded, and he heard a shrill whistle.
Long risked a glance in the direction of the sound and saw that one of the mounted archers had stopped roughly thirty paces from him with his bow drawn and an arrow nocked. The arrow was aimed directly at Long. Long glanced over at GuangZe and saw the second mounted archer take the horse by the reins and begin to lead him toward the first archer. GuangZe went along without a fuss, and Long’s heart sank.
As the rush of battle began to wear off, Long noticed something else. There was a pain-filled bellowing in the frigid afternoon air. He looked over at the camel and saw that it was trying to stand, but it kept falling over because one of its front legs no longer worked. The leg dangled limply from its shoulder, obviously broken.
Long lowered the musket. He wasn’t sure who he felt sorrier for, the camel or himself.
The camel rider took a step toward him, and Long raised the musket once more. “Keep your distance,” he said.