The black horses’ hooves pounded through the night, the six carriers of a burden yet to be hidden, yet to be kept safe. Across the darkened plain an orange sap rose from the sky, lending itself to the approaching dawn. The travelers quickened their pace to the east, facing their enemy head on. Red robes flailed in the wind like streams of blood.
The men were monks, you could see from the few whose hoods had been blown down that their heads were shaved. They were riding on stallions larger than most men had ever seen, but the steeds were weary, they had been galloping at full speed for days now and had barely stopped for water. They foamed at the mouth and steam bellowed from their flaring nostrils. The monks rode as a triangle and all held the reins with both hands, urging the horses on, all but one, who clasped something small to his chest. It looked like a tightly drawn bundle of brown rags, but the monk held it close and kept darting his eyes downwards. His eyes were blue, and there was a fear in them, his name was Wei Min.
Suddenly, the rider in front let out a call and Wei Min looked up sharply. There, on the horizon, were black shapes, larger in number than their own and travelling at great pace. A cloud of dust rose from behind the approaching figures.
“Are they men?” a monk rasped, drawing up beside him. “They could be men.”
However not a moment later the first rider turned his neck and screamed, “Spirits!”
The monks changed formation now; they rode in a straight line so as to hide their numbers. Wei Min dropped back so that his horse was last. He tightened his hands on the bundle and the reins and wished he had yet another spare to find his dagger.
“A river!” a call went up from ahead. “Look there’s a river between us!”
Wei Min did not look, but kept behind the other horses so as to continue hiding his from view. He waited and heard cries of agreement and relief from the others. A river - that would buy them time.
‘Please don’t let it be a mirage,’ he prayed, ‘please Almighty let there be a river so wide and fearsome not even Spirits could cross it.’
He stared at the hooves of the horse in front and kept murmuring his frantic prayers. Eventually Wei Min could hear rushing water, he looked up to see the line in front of him swerving to the left, so they had chosen to chase the river, but where to? Surely the abbot had a plan.
The horses began to quicken and steeling himself Wei Min leant out from the line, towards the approaching riders. He gasped in surprise, they were so close now he could almost make out their faces, they were indeed Spirits - but of the lower echelons. They wore black breastplates, shiny and hard like beetle shells, and on them was painted a design in white - the symbol of servitude.
Outrunning the Spirits was the only thing on the monks’ minds as they rode hard and fast under the dazzling light of the day’s sun. Wei Min fell into third place as they rode, his mouth was dry and parched, his nose clogged with the dust kicked back from the horses in front. He didn’t dare look across the river which sounded less fast and powerful than before.
Eventually the dry, endless plains began to give way to softer earth and odd clumps of scrub and bush. Two hours more hard ride and they were racing past trees and could see mountains in the distance. The horses inevitably began to slow.
“We need to stop!” cried a voice from behind. “The animals won’t cope, we need to stop.”
“Not now,” shouted back the lead rider, “there are towns up ahead, we must seek cover.” Wei Min glanced down again, the bundle in his arms seemed stiffer than before. Looking up anxiously, he rode faster so as to catch up with the front rider. The leader sensed his presence and immediately turned round to look at him and then down at the bundle. “I know,” he called out before Wei Min could voice anything. “We will stop as soon as we can.”
At the sight of the first town a collective sigh of relief was let out from the travelling party. They reached the wooden gates, which were immediately swung open; the days of dust and dirt had still not disguised the recognizable red robes of the monks. The horses limped in and the men dismounted, several collapsed as they hit the ground, their legs bent and worn from the saddle. Groaning, Wei Min clambered to the ground from his horse, slipping down her side, helped by the sweat. He fell over backwards but clasped the bundle in front of him, shielding it from the hard cobbled street. Yelping with pain he clenched his teeth and struggled forwards. He caught sight of the first rider a few feet away and staggered towards him.
“What now?” whispered another robed monk, coming forwards to stand between them. “Are we staying here?”
“We must,” replied the first rider, “we have to hope that we are sheltered.”
“What if there are servants about? They will send word we are here,” hissed the other monk, his eyes darting down the street with worry.
“This is just a market town; no one here knows what is happening. Let us find water and supplies," the leader instructed firmly.
The monks walked slowly and gingerly through the streets, the light seemed to be fading already. Wei Min had stopped a few times, checking on the bundle in dark corners where he could not be seen, whispering and drawing a flask from his breast pocket. The leader had stopped a young couple to ask for somewhere to stay and had been directed to the northern part of the town. The travelling party found themselves walking on and on, the alleys becoming narrower and quieter.
They turned a final corner when one of them put up his hand to stop the others; he had seen something move up ahead. It was a shape in the semi darkness.
“It’s just a man,” the voice of the monk beside Wei Min cracked hoarsely. “There are many men in this town.”
“But can’t you smell it?” whispered another, his voice breaking in fear. “Persimmon”
“Spirits,” snapped the leader loudly as the dim light in the alley reflected off of a shiny black breastplate at the other end of the passageway.
‘Run, run now’, the words screamed inside Wei Min’s head. He frantically stumbled around corners, desperately searching for the way out, a way to emerge from the chaos of shouts and screams of his companions.
He burst out from the dark maze onto the main street, torches blazed from on high and men, women and merchants chattered inanely going about their business. He drew attention in his robe and knew he would have to find a way to separate himself from his cargo soon; he was like a beacon drawing them to it, to her. Wei Min began rushing up to people asking them if they knew any convoys leaving town that night, no one did. He felt faint with desperation and had to sit down behind a large cart selling flasks of a strong smelling liquid.
“I know of someone leaving the town tonight,”
The voice was strange, almost as if Wei Min had imagined it. He turned to see a toothless old man staring at him.
"But he’s a collector,” the man continued with a shrug. Wei Min shook his head to indicate that he didn’t understand.
“A collector from the court," the man explained, "he comes by these parts once a year, only picks up a few girls and takes them somewhere special.” The toothless man looked downwards to the bundle of rags as Wei Min edged away.
“If you need to hide her, give her to him. It would be safe, for a while.”
Wei Min snapped his head up to truly look at the old man. That smell, that familiar scent, he realized now - it wasn’t from the cart.
“Do not fear monk, some of us are on your side,” the old man snorted before rising up and turning to go before calling back. “He is called Zheng Li by the way and he’s about to leave.” With that the man limped off into the crowded street.
Wei Min clambered up in dazed shock and promptly turned to look down the main road, he saw a flash of blue robes in the distance, pure satin - no common town-merchant could be dressed like that. Wei Min instantly broke into a run, pushing past people, tripping over his own robe before finally he reached the wooden gates. However, to his utter dismay the gentleman in blue was not there – he was too late! Gasping for air, Wei Min staggered towards the town’s entrance.
“You’re in my way monk. What are you doing so far from home?”
A high voice came from behind and turning round Wei Min saw the blue robes draped over a white horse. Behind that were men with a cart, a round faced woman poked her head out and said something to the gentleman in a low whisper that the monk could not hear.
“What is that you are carrying?” Zheng Li asked suspiciously. Wei Min clasped the bundle protectively to his chest but the woman climbed off of the cart and prowled towards him. She reached out her hand towards the rags and pulled them back, a small pink face was revealed, fast asleep with hands clenched in fists. The woman turned triumphantly to Zheng Li, “It’s a girl!” she announced.
“I thought I asked all girls to be brought for inspection?" Zheng Li sniffed disapprovingly. "Anyway it’s too late now, I can’t take her.” He trotted his horse forward but Wei Min instinctively moved into his way, barring the path to the gate.
Zheng Li sighed, “I won’t give you a good price for her, and you won’t receive any paperwork.”
Wei Min shook his head mutely before he fell to his knees and proffered the bundle forwards.
“Oh Just take her Zheng Li," snapped the round-faced woman, "if a monk wants rid of a child, who are we to ask questions?”
Zheng Li smirked at this and nodded to her approvingly. The woman bent down to Wei Min and lifted the baby from his shaking fingers before turning to walk promptly back towards the cart. Zheng Li threw a small purse at Wei Min’s feet and manoeuvred his horse around him.
“Open the gates!” Zheng Li called, before they swung back with a resonating creak. The party rode out quickly from the market town and the cart followed, clattering off of the cobbles. Wei Min remained kneeling, hunched on the cold street cobbles, his eyes turned down, his hands still outstretched.
“Goodbye,” he whispered.
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