Soundless(55)
It can’t be, I think. There can’t be horses up here!
As the noise grows louder, I search around, trying to discern its source. I still have some difficulties gauging the location and distance of certain sounds. But as I get my bearings, I’m almost certain the horses are coming from the same direction as the initial boom. It’s a part of the mountain we rarely go, a place that was once used because of the narrow pass that led to a fertile valley and a path down the back of the mountain. Avalanches buried that narrow gap, creating an impenetrable, high wall that none have been able to get through . . .
. . . until now.
A feeling of dread builds within me, growing as the sound of the hooves gets closer and closer. Through the tumultuous crowd, I catch another glimpse of Zhang Jing, still waiting for me. But there is no time, not anymore. Go, I sign to her. Go and hide! Something terrible is about to happen!
To my relief, she turns and runs just as a new burst of noise surges behind me. I spin around in time to see a veritable army of soldiers on horseback galloping into the village’s center. With weapons raised, they ride in, uncaring of what or who is in their way. What I thought was chaotic earlier is nothing compared to what now ensues. It’s not just the soldiers and their weapons that cause the panic: The horses are equally terrifying. Like me, my people have never seen them outside of pictures. Equally rare and frightening is the sight of outsiders in our village. We’ve all seen the same faces our entire lives. New ones are a shock—especially when it’s clear these aren’t friendly.
On top of all this, I have new sounds to cope with: the sounds of war. The soldiers scream harsh battle cries as they descend upon us, the noise ugly and hateful to my ears. Around me, cries and moans from my people also rise, born instinctually from high emotion. They don’t even realize they’re making these eerie sounds, which raise the hair on the back of my neck. For a moment, as those cries fill the air, I have a strange flashback to that first dream when my hearing began. In it, my people all cried out at the same time—almost like this but less chaotic. Still, I feel something tug inside me, that same stirring I’ve felt in other dreams, like I’m being called to. It’s the first time I’ve truly felt it while awake, but I have no time to ponder it, not with what’s happening.
The people around me stampede in different directions, everyone trying to find a way to save themselves and their loved ones. There is no strategy, no unity. I try to see what the soldiers are doing, to get a sense if they’re capturing or killing, but it’s all I can do not to get trampled by my own people.
I manage to climb back up on the stage, giving me a limited view of the scene as well as a brief respite from the stampede. No one wants to be here; everyone is trying to get away. The soldiers are riding around the center, trying to trap my people within it. If some flee, the soldiers herd them back in. One man—the tall, intimidating one I encountered earlier—stands up to a soldier, but his brawn is no match for the sword that runs him through. I’ve never seen anyone killed that way, and the horror of it leaves me frozen for a moment. Another villager doesn’t challenge the army, but he also doesn’t get out of the way when a soldier comes thundering down on him on a large black horse. The man wavers, too petrified to move, and the soldier simply runs him down, trampling the man under those powerful hooves. That thoughtless killing is almost more gruesome than if he’d used his sword. It spurs me back to action.
Even those who are simply captured are subject to brutality, struck and herded with dispassionate force. I don’t know what it all means, but I know I can’t be caught here. I hop down, relying on my smaller size to weave through the panicked crowd. I head in the opposite direction the soldiers have come, hoping I can escape from the village’s heart there. As I glance back, gauging the soldiers’ position, I am shocked to see a group of people entering behind them: a group of thin, ragged people in chains. Even more shocking is when I recognize one of them: Li Wei.
He can’t be here. He can’t. It’s impossible.
We’re pretty good at the impossible.
Incredibly, despite the pandemonium filling the gulf between us, he spots me as well. Our eyes meet, and in a moment I have changed direction and am heading back into the heart of the village. I don’t care that it’s the most dangerous place to be right now, not if Li Wei is there. He’s standing on the fringe of the chained prisoners, where there are fewer guards. There also aren’t many villagers there, as most of them are running in the opposite direction. I have to do a fair amount of dodging as I make my way across the center. A number of times I am shoved and kicked in the frenzy of capture-and-flee going on. A soldier on horseback eyes me as I run past him but then decides a larger, muscled miner is a better prize to go after.
Breathless, I reach the chained prisoners and find Li Wei, my heart lifting at the sight of his beloved face. I throw my arms around him, unable to believe he’s real and in front of me, particularly after all the terrible outcomes I’d been imagining for him. He looks worn and tired, and there are new bruises on him, but the fire in his eyes glitters as fiercely as ever when we finally break away to regard each other. He can’t speak easily to me, not with his hands chained, but suddenly a cry escapes his lips as his eyes focus on something behind me. I don’t need to understand any spoken language to get his message, and I spin around in time to see a foot soldier waving a sword at me. Li Wei hurls himself forward, swinging his manacled hands up to intercept the blade coming toward my head. The soldier isn’t prepared for Li Wei’s considerable strength, and as chain and blade hit, the soldier is thrown backward, stumbling. His sword slips from his hands in a flash, and I pick it up, aiming it for the soldier’s neck.