Chapter 4: The Deceased

“Oh c’mon. If I were one of my siblings, I’d leave you in a heartbeat, and you know that.” My mind mulled over the only options I had left: reason with her one more time or have her rolled up in her mattress and carried out? She’d hate me for the latter, but the harder I pressed her, the less reasonable she became.

“-- you can do that.” I’d entirely missed what she had said before, but when I heard those words, my head buzzed until my ears thrummed with a rhythmic beat.

In a stunned silence, I looked away from my mother and took in my surroundings.

A look away from the clutter on her bookshelves to the two standing dressers --

-- a gaze across the room to my dear mom’s bed --

-- and a passing glance across the rugged floor to the many faces on the wall.

Generations of our family. Most still alive and well. Each with their own families branched around our world, but not beyond. Our homeworld… after the climate was modified and all had been terraformed, every one of our family members remained on a once-desolate ice world.

A lush tundra now. We nurtured and cultivated the land until it suited our needs. There were whole regions of the planet that we left alone. Those regions had a natural beauty that I had always found joy in when I paid them a visit.

One of those photos on the wall had been taken in a vacant region. The field was entirely blanketed in wildflowers as far as the eye could see. We cared about our world very much, and for those regions still in need of a bit of color, we applied our green thumbs where we could.

We were traditionalists. That meant we had sentimental value all over our world. And I meant it. Our family had a relative of some kind living in every inhabited patch of tundra -- like only one small continent, which was within the arctic circle. We had a history wherever we looked. And we were always there for each other in times of need.

A very rare quality in our era.

I shook my head. “You’re not staying --”

“Go. You said you’d leave. Leave.” My mother walked away from me to sit down on the edge of her single bed. She looked up at me and waved me off. “Go. No one will blame you. There won’t be anyone here when it hits.”

Imploring her to yield to reason, I held out my hands and began yelling: “That’s my point! Come with --”

“That’s not the point.” She leaned forward and gave me a mockery of a smile. “Your father dropped you on your head far too often; that’s why I’m not getting through to you, isn’t it? Or maybe you two are too much alike. Too thick.”

I shook my head at her and tried reason once more. “Oma, c’mon --”

“No, you come on! Who’s going to be left when you leave? Who’s out there?” She pointed out the door, but I knew she meant beyond and into the burning galaxy. “Where will you go? How far are you going to run until you realize who you are leaving behind?”

She left me with no choice: the mattress it would have to be!

“I’m not! You’re coming with me…” I watched my mother flip a gesture at me in refusal. While I admired the outstanding birdy she showed me, I began to work next to her bed in preparation to safely roll her up -- more for my safety than hers. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“Because your family is here. If I leave.” Her chest was harshly jabbed with her thumb as she enounciated her next two words firmly. “I’m leaving.” She waved behind himself to indicate all of the framed smiles and waves on the wall. “I’m leaving them. Your family.”

I took another look around to gather what she’d said, but in the end I just shook my head. “I’m not leaving -- what did you do?”

She tapped the side of her tensely clenched jaw. The pigment of her skin had darkened under the makeup. Not like a tan, but pinkish. Then a reddish tone.

Her shoulders squared and I caught the sight of her throat impulsively swallowing. Her nostrils flared as her face turned purplish… blue.

“No!!” I reached out to her --

-- and she raised her delicately pampered hands to push me away. Despite her millennial age compared to my bicentennial, she was equally fit, and her unrestrained strength had been desperately magnified with adrenaline.

I crashed through the door as I was literally thrown out of my only parent’s room. When I sat up, the color of her skin had already blackened.

She really did it. She’d activated her necrosis.

I got up, but there was nothing I could do at that stage.

That didn’t stop me from going back in her room. I didn’t know what to do when I approached her. What could I do?

What should I do?

Unable to just leave her like that, I reached out to hold her. Halfway through a deathstroke, she somehow managed to raise her hand up to my face. After she grabbed my attention, she pointed beyond me.

The last word I heard my mother breathlessly whispered in my ear was: “Go.”

Her final wish was said and she fell backwards on her bed.

The scenery blurred, but I know I eventually turned from her and obeyed.

I abandoned our home. 

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There were noises disturbing my sleep.

Very noisy… I was sleeping.

The rest was welcomed, but I could have done well without the dreams. Either way, I wasn’t to return to my slumber with that noise… voices?

I listened.

“-- enough to kill an Ussuri mojihiyan?” The voice was familiar, but the words he used were funny. If the girl didn’t recognized the words, I certainly would not. At least, until I obtained a definition or some details to learn?

“Yes, Nangjang. Straight here.” I recognized that voice of the man who’d rescued me from the Xi… but I didn’t appreciate my sternum being poked. “Hm?” After a second, he tapped me in the sternum again.

Despite not knowing what he was doing, I smacked his hand off.

There was a loud sigh as I opened my eyes. I looked and found the one who’d sighed was the Nangjang.

He turned his gaze away from me and to the man that inspected me. “Mutengge. Had it not been for so many eyewitnesses --”

“I know.” The voice changed to a more stern one and clarified: “We knew.” The man, Mutengge, turned his gaze up to the Nangjang. “The Xi took her for a reason. Now we’ve seen it.” Both turned their eyes to me. “She’s a national treasure.”

“A treasure we almost lost.” Nangjang took a step forward and laid a hand on Mutengge’s shoulder. “I entrusted you with the responsibility.”

“Yes, Nangjang.” He kept his eyes off of his superior and down on me. The grip on his shoulder looked like it had became tighter. Painfully so. He repeated: “Yes, Nangjang.”

Then the Nangjang let go and walked away from us. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

It wasn’t until the Nangjang ducked and left that I realized we were in a tent. Nothing appeared any different from the last tent I was in, so I assumed it was the same.

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Mutengge’s tent.

He gave me a smile. Something was wrong with the way he smiled at me. I didn’t have time to figure the smile out before I felt something warm pulled up over to cover my chest. My hand slipped out from under, to feel what was on me.

I felt the sleek fur and knew right away I was blanketed in tigerskin.

The thought made me blurt out: “Tasha?”

“Yes.” He patted my hand on the blanket. “Tiger… they say Sagujin called you Tasha. Is that your name?”

I ended up going quiet in wonder what a Sagujin was and what the girl’s name might be. I supposed Sagujin was the decorated Xi horseman. But the girl apparently hadn’t a clue what she once was called.

“Don’t you...? Tasha. Your name from now on is Tasha.” Mutengge smiled down at me. A different smile that had become more proud. He then stated: “The Xi fear Tasha. Now they fear Tasha more than ever.”

For some reason, I smiled at his analogy.

After a moment, my smile faded as a thought occurred to me. I pointed out: “Nangjang wrong.” I lifted my hand off the fur and pointed at Mutengge. “Ordered back.”

He settled and covered my hand back down on the fur blanket with his own large hand. “The Nangjang must save face. It is natural, or consequences will follow us all.” I was confused, but I didn’t shake my head that time.

I learned to use my voice. “Why?”

He looked over me and took a deep breath before he explained: “The Nangjang is one of many. They command a garrison for a single city. The surrounding region is under the city’s protection. By association, the Nangjang is appointed protector of the region.” He grasped and ripped grass up by the roots from the open floor of the tent. He shook the dirt from the roots and said, “Kirin is under our protection.”

Kirin? That was what he had been shouting at me when we sorta first met. I still had a sack over my head at that time, so the introductions were a bit awkward. At least now I had an idea what the word Kirin had meant: the province.

Mutengge resumed to conclude his explanation. “The Nangjang knows us all well, and we know him. He has a handle on how to utilize our numbers. But if we begin to acknowledge his mistakes, we also begin to question his commands. Not a good trait for the Nangjang to carry.”

“Bad.” When I understood the circumstances for Mutengge taking the fall, he patted me on the head.

“Yes, it was. This was a tragic afternoon. Many lives were lost because of my own mistakes.” Mutengge’s smile had become sad once more. “I didn’t return in time to prevent the breech... many Xi escaped.” His eyes became vacant for a moment as he reflected: “Many lives were lost because of my absence.”

His absence was because of me… but he left as soon as he could! Once he had been substituted by --

-- what was his name? I sat up immediately. “Ah -- ha, where -- ah…” I swallowed sorrowfully hard when I realized I never asked for the young soldier’s name. Instead of guessing what to call him, I gestured with my hands an imitation of eating from a bowl.

He appeared confused. Then smiled in amusement as he guessed: “Hungry?”

“Mutengge’s friend!” I was gesturing at the flapping open tent, where the cooking took place, when he finally understood me.

His smile faltered, but it returned sadly as he informed me. “His name was Songgotu. Everyone will be brought back with us.”

The name… I understood what it meant. Someone that was good at crying. The name indicated a baby. I felt there was a story now behind his name, why he brushed away my tears, and his mother’s word of advice that he’d passed onto me. But I would never hear his tale…

I wondered what they would do with him. I decided to ask, but first I concentrated on how I wanted to word it. “What will happen to Songgotu?”

“He will be buried with the others.” When he said that, a dense lump formed in my throat.

I confirmed: “Buried --”

“Together -- as brothers.” What he said sounded very wrong. A mass grave?

Not to show disrespect to Mutengge, but I had to find out why a burial like that would take place. “Why?”

“If he were of higher station, he’d be given a ceremonial funeral, but he was nobi.” Now that he had informed me of Songgotu’s status, I could make sense of his odd behavior when he treated me.

He wasn’t crawling backwards and out of the tent to be funny. He was repeating a gesture he’d perhaps had done thousands of times: groveling.

And they intended to sink him lower than the dirt!

“...no.” I pulled the blanket off to stand up.

“No?” Mutengge questioned me as he picked the fur blanket back up and pulled it quickly around my shoulders. My bare shoulders.

My train of thought was sidetracked as I took a look down and saw my ruined robe had been stripped down to the waist. Mutengge and the Nangjang must have wanted a closer inspection of my chest for that final wound I received.

I felt no shame of being exposed. There had been pity instead of that shameful sense of vulnerability. The girl’s body -- I could see the subtle definition of my ribs before they descended down to the concaving disappearance of my tummy... I was so thin.

And bloodied.

When I lifted my gaze back up to Mutengge, I noted he was no cleaner than I had been. His own robe may have once been white or tan, but the darkened color that stained it now had surely come from the battle’s ordeal.

But we could bathe ourselves… the dead could not.

As I pulled the yellow-striped blanket securely around my neck, I elaborated. “Wash Songgotu.”

Mutengge repeated: “He will be buried when --”

“Not bury,” was my quick reply.

His eyes narrowed. “Tasha, listen to --”

“No!” My gaze locked onto his in defiance. “I wash Songgotu.”

He kept his eyes on mine until a sigh escaped him. “Tasha. The Nangjang will order for all the dead to be buried. Songgotu is no exception.” Mutengge laid a hand on my shoulder and leaned in to softly ask: “Do you intend the yolo and giyahun to feast on him after you went through the trouble of cleansing his body?”

Birds. I thought of big, raptor-like, razor-sharp taloned birds. The image of them circling in the sky filled me with dread. They would come for the dead.

My voice quieted as I said, “No.”

The soldiers. The nobi. They were so filthy from their march through the burned farmland and the mountain that opened way to the plains of the Xi people. I kept replaying the same image of Songgotu’s robed uniform puffing dust in the air.

And I knew now he would remain that way forever.

A surge of hot blood rushed to my head. “No!”

Muttenge tried again to reason with me: “Tasha --”

“No!!” I had understood him, but I was no longer calm or rational.

I smacked his hand off of my shoulder and pushed past him to escape the tent.

He called after me. “Tasha!”

And I ignored him as I exited his tent and looked across the hill in search for Songgotu --

-- to find laid-out rows of many dead. So very many dead…

Just as before, I stared at the numerous laid-out soldiers and felt an expectation from them: to roll over, itch their cheeks, twitch their noses, snort and snore, cross their arms or legs, or something. Anything to signal me they were only asleep!

I knew better. They didn’t have my abnormal background… they had all had their own tales before those ended here.

Many had on display different stories of their terrible conditions before their deaths.

The nobi.

But they all were in the same robed uniform. As brothers in arms... I couldn’t tell the difference between them with a distant glance.

My vision blurred as I ran to the deceased in search of a familiar face.

Their faces were layered in dust, or smeared with blood, or caked in dirt, or... right in front of my very eyes, I still wouldn’t know who I was looking at!

How was I to find...?

My mind rationally worked and I instantly felt around my waist.

There, I felt the hard-outlined shape buried under my rolled down robe: the canister that contained my water. He had told me the water was for drinking only.

In a quiet voice, I said, “Sorry.”

As I removed the container and opened it, I knelt down by the first of the fallen soldiers. My fingers dipped into the water and I began to rub the first man’s face clear.

It wasn’t him. I moved onto the next. And the next one… and the next.

I kept cleaning their faces, but after awhile I worried I wouldn’t find him. My lips trembled when I realized daylight was in short supply. I had to hurry, but inspecting everyone quickly to find Songgotu would slim my chances to notice him before nightfall.

Hope faded when a shadow fell over me.

Mutengge knelt down by my side and began to rinse the face of the next soldier. I stared at him for a moment before I decided not to question him. I stood and passed him to cleanse the man after.

A soldier approached my other side and knelt with me. I stopped what I was doing when he removed a blade from under his apron. He tore a ragged band of cloth off of his thick robe with that blade and dipped the cloth into his own container of water.

He cleaned the man’s face for me. I had an inclination why Mutengge had joined me, but not the aproned soldier. When he lifted his irritably pinkened eyes up to meet mine, I understood then and there he was in search of someone too.

How many other soldiers wanted to know who lived or not?

My gaze drifted back to Mutengge. He looked baffled for a split second, as if we both had the same question on our minds, but caught my look and quickly his face appeared stern.

And his voice loud and confident.

“Juhyunwul! Get over here!” As he called someone over, my blurred vision shifted from Mutengge to a robust soldier with one of those thick aprons on. “Rally the men and have them identify everyone. Write down their names.”

The man called Juhyunwul exclaimed: “Yes, Mutengge!”

“No one rests until everyone is accounted for. Understood?” When Mutengge clarified his additional order, Juhyunwul appeared confused or unsure for only a moment.

I barely managed to hear Juhyunwul question his orders quietly. “Mutengge… we march to return before daybreak --”

Mutengge asked a simple question: “Must I repeat myself?”

The response to Mutengge was resolved. “No, Mutengge.”

After I witnessed that, I understood what Mutengge meant by commands being questioned and the result: hesitation. A soldier who hesitated too long wouldn’t live long.

Then Juhyunwul straightened and exclaimed: “Yes, Mutengge!” He raced off and began to shout for everyone to gather before the orders were announced.

When it appeared the whole population of the encampment had gathered, Juhyunwul began to call names. I watched as someone answered a name and hurriedly run to the deceased. They began to either scan those dead that had been cleaned or knelt and cleansed the corpses’ faces for identification.

I caught a glimpse of some soldiers who would run back to Juhyunwul. Without intention, I overheard names.

Names of a fallen comrade here. And there...

A census had begun for the living and not.

“Tasha.” I looked away from what had happened here, up to Mutengge. “They will find him, but you mustn’t be out here any longer.” He knelt down by my side and explained. “The Xi know and fear you. Maybe you cannot die, but you can be stopped. Taken.” He gestured to all the dead and said, “We are sorely without the numbers to deal with another advance party.”

I didn’t quite understand his logic. If the Xi knew I was here and wanted to take me, but the Nangjang’s forces lacked the strength to repel them -- how would secluding me in a tent change anything?

My confusion must have been expressed clearly on my face for Mutengge to see as he explained: “Not all Xi openly challenge us. The Xiang are one tribe, but large and powerful.” He laid a hand on my shoulder and stated: “You parading around the camp could change their attitudes toward us. It is best you stay out of sight until we safely return.”

After taking a deep breath to calm down, I stood and turned to face the direction of the quiet battlefield. Mutengge stood behind me and placed both hands on my shoulders as I stared out at the countless fallen Xi.

Mutengge tugged me away from the dark and grim scenery. “Come.”

In one last attempt to search for Songgotu, I scanned the many cleared faces of those fallen soldiers I had passed on my way to Mutengge’s tent.

The young soldier’s death would forever remain in my memories, but not because of how he died, but why. My hesitation when he told me to run. To go…