Nova Patria

By Les Stone

David, a man of the future from the planet Galaxias is time Warped to Earth in the Year 229CE as an investigative Geologist who falls out of favor for failure to comply with protocol and is left to die. He escapes to China and begins a reign of Piracy in the China Sea. He returns to Galaxias and takes vengeance only to return once more to China in the Song Dynasty and saw the armies of Genghis Khan Take control. He returns to Galaxias only to find discord so relocates to a new planet he called Nova Patria with his Elite Military forces.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543753394

Les Stone

The Author is an ex-Rhodesian from Africa raised in a time of conflict and unrest when Afica was in the throes of decolonization. Fought in its wars and subsiquently has seen the demise of Democratic processes in African Political The Author is an ex-Rhodesian from Africa raised in a time of conflict and unrest when Afica was in the throes of decolonization. Fought in its wars and subsiquently has seen the demise of Democratic processes in African Political arenas

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Copyright © 2019 by Les Stone.

ISBN:       Softcover               978-1-5437-5338-7

                 eBook                     978-1-5437-5339-4

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1     Stranded

Chapter 2     Court Advisor Tai

Chapter 3     Formosa

Chapter 4     New Innovations

Chapter 5     Empress Yuan

Chapter 6     Galaxias

Chapter 7     Return to China

Chapter 8     Formosa Revival

Chapter 9     Settlement

Chapter 10   Aliens

Chapter 11   Pay Back

Chapter 12   New World

Chapter 13   Last Journey

INTRODUCTION

I opened my eyes to bright moonlight filtering through dark pine trees casting their eerie shadows on the shimmering snow covered forest floor. For a brief moment the pain at the back of my head was forgotten admiring this spectacle of nature. But both head and the freezing cold brought me back to reality with a jolt. The vein effort to wrap my arms around myself was merely a symbolic gesture to induce warmth. Far off a wolf’s howl into the night sky echoed the loneliness of my own desperation emphasizing with clarity my predicament as being neigh to hopeless unless able to rid myself of my shackled ankles to an embedded iron stake. This was someone’s idea of a cruel joke knowing my options were two fold, Death by cold or the lesser attractive, bait for a hungry predator. Either way I was having none of this if I could help it. My mind raced, the stake and chain were of a very poor quality metal signifying early to middle Iron Age. My valiant and trust worthy comrades who betrayed me, then banished me to meet my demise in this, the most contemptable of manners. Yet, they did not know the full extent of my capabilities and this was going to be their demise should I ever meet up with them again.

ONE

Stranded

My name is David, this is my story. My serial number given at birth was 6591204736 engraved like an offending number of doom on my left temple, was born in the year2760 CE. Not that it meant much as a growing boy, but this number designated me to a particular predetermined occupation once basic education was completed by the age of sixteen. I am from the plant Galaxias, word derived from Greek for the Milky Way galaxy. Descendants of Earth people way back in the distant past who found a way to warp travel to inhabit a new planet they called Kepler 440, some 850 light years from earth. Survivors fled the terrible and final fourth world war which obliterated and destroyed almost everything on Earth in the year 2305 CE. Since Galaxias was colonized in 2340, over time was extensively over mined and exploited by unscrupulous co-operatives by 2780 CE, four hundred and forty years later they embarked on seeking an alternative to long space travel by an invention of a new and controversial technology, time warp. This gave them the ability to go back into the past of civilizations with the sole purpose of mining valuable minerals on massive scales, unconcerned by the consequences of their subsequent actions. Hence my role in this whole morbid scenario as I soon discovered, being an investigative Geologist, came to an abrupt conclusion when I, for the first time in my life, questioned the validity of this practice whilst on a mission to a then pristine Earth. The sheer beauty of planet earth, its wildlife and its peoples in the year 220 CE was for me a wakeup call and I just could not condone the actions of my Committee to devastate this wonderful primeval planet in spite of the fact its own inhabitants destroyed it, many centuries later. Well, my rebellious refusal to submit my reports of mineral deposits concluded my fate and landed me in my current predicament. Being rendered unconscious then banishment to parts unknown was a far better option for Galaxia’s Correctional Squads, the so called Police of Galaxias. They did just that by handing me over to a very aggressive and warlike Turkic tribesmen of eastern Siberia in an area south east of the Baykal Lake and employing them do the committees dirty work. My punishment was meant to teach me humility and obedience before death. Some lesson, yet I had to be grateful they did not execute me outright. Primitive iron became brittle in extreme cold and offered a possibility of escape if I could find large enough rocks with which to beat the hell out of the crude chains. With numbing fingers I searched beneath the snow in a 360 degree arch and was soon rewarded with two large granite rocks. Draping the chains over one rock, used the other as a two handed hammer with all the force I could muster. Score one for me, the chain separated and I was off blindly running deeper and deeper into the surrounding forest. I was not naïve and knew my footprints were a dead giveaway and sooner or later the Turkic’s would be on my tail. A while later a hunting horn sounded, my escape had been discovered and now it was a matter of time before they found me. Sometimes nature has its own agendas and this night proved to be one of those with a raging blizzard blowing in almost knocking me off my feet. Great, but not great, this was freezing to death not great, and to get out of the killer wind chill the only way was in a snow cave. I burrowed like a frantic mole into a snow drift and took cover. My hands were numb and I feared frost bite so I did the only thing I could to warm them, urinate on them. I must have been there for a good few hours and kept kicking the snow cave entrance free of snow, built up by the wind for fear of being buried alive. My stroke of good fortune proved successful and no sign of pursuance, I exited my snow cave and braved the residue blizzard knowing my tracks would be obliterated. My executioners as primitive as they were did not realize the body suit covering my torso was designed for missions off Galaxias where weather and most other conditions could protect the wearer against. Although it did not keep out extreme bitter cold it was water proof supported by a good pair of knee high rugged boots. Now all I had to do was to remove the shackles as the remnant chain pieces were a dead giveaway when walking, clanking iron on iron.

Finally, I dispensed with those irritating shackles, which left my ankles bruised and tender after pounding iron with rocks until they parted even though the boots offered a protective layer. Come morning I found myself heading west which did not make me happy at all so I changed course to north east. The going was tough in the mountains and hesitated travel by day. Being mindful of predators such as Wolves, Bears and Tigers was constantly on guard and cautious. I became very proficient at killing rabbits with well-aimed rocks which kept me sustained and gave me furs for warmth. Armed with a wooden pointed staff which proved to be a great asset for a number of reasons yet was not quite adequate enough protection so it became apparent I needed to equip myself with some better defensive weapons. One thing in my education as a youth was traditional weapons accumulated in our science museum over millennium and before my location to earth, I made a study of such weapons and their manufacture. Being a geologist knew rock formations and rocks usable as sharpened instruments for cutting. Well, my staff transformed into a spear with a flint spear head. I added a flint knife, made flint arrow heads and built a very powerful bow. Making fire was a breeze with flint and iron chain pieces struck together to produce sparks. This off world individual was reverting to caveman status dressed in overlaid skins and hunting to survive. One day however, I came face to face with a huge bear. It raised itself on its hind legs and voiced its displeasure in no uncertain terms. Not in the mood to become bear lunch, I dispatched that creature to life here after and enjoyed the bounty of its flesh for a long while. It also provided me with a warm and very welcomed long coat or blanket with crudely sewn hand mittens. Tanning the hide was a mission in itself and many hours of grind to scrape and soften the hide to a point where it became flexible enough to use effectively. However, this did not change the aroma at all and I began to smell like the hide. Although bathing was shied away from due to the freezing water and nothing to boil water in I was relegated to hobo status and soon was sporting long hair and a full beard to match.

By now I had figured out my bearings and knew Mongolia lay in the direction of travel and behind it the land of China. For some unknown reason I was compelled towards that direction. Then came the day when winter was in full retreat magnifying natures amazing diversity and the prolific transformation which took place. Spring had arrived and with it the hordes of mosquitos and flies. Mud and swamps added to life’s irritations and became quite unbearable. I followed a river course which led me in an easterly direction for a month and when it began to change direction northwards I headed south across hills and valleys. Gradually after weeks of travel the terrain began to take on a more ominous appearance until the desert loomed vast and desolate before me. Mongolian Gobi desert lay ahead and one thing became apparent, water. To cross this hell in summer without water was an invitation to self-extinction in less than a week. I knew this desert was extreme both in summer and winter with temperatures ranging in fifty degrees Celsius either way. Fortunately I was not without common sense and realized to carry a large quantity of water was just not feasible, so it was a priority to come up with an alternative. If I could not physically carry, I would drag. Backtracking to a bamboo grove I had spotted on my journey cut lengths of bamboo for water storage and was able to collect a total of eighty pieces with a carrying capacity between two to three liters of water each. So I became a human horse and dragged behind me a crudely fashioned bamboo sled. My destination could be days, could be weeks or months depending where my point of entry was located. If due south in the middle of the Gobi desert, game over, but if on the eastern sector chances were favorable. Having no choice, took the course north eastwards. Walking at nights only, I was able to cover a lot of ground at risk, but a risk worth taking. The heat was something else and during the day I hibernated out of the sun as much as possible. Middays were the worst and this was when one had to exercise extreme discipline not to drink precious water reserves. Nobody is infallible and the body only able to withstand so much in spite of driving stubborn determination. So it was with me. I emerged out of the desert onto a grassy tundra spent and exhausted. Hunger had taken its toll leaving me weak and emancipated to the point of collapse.

They found me slumped on the ground and took me to their settlement and so began my recovery in a Mongolian Yurt. A week later gradually I began my life as a new Mongolian community member and lived with these people for five years. During which time my debt was paid in full as hunter and provider. I was on Earth now an estimated three years when I joined the Mongolians. There were the fond moments, the humor of those people and their approach to life which was fatalistic to say the least. Constantly threatened by bandits one had to be on guard as the prize sought was to take possession of livestock and that meant yaks and horses. My skills soon proved a saving grace with the spear and bow which neutralized many an instance of provocation either by dialog or just sheer brute force resulting in a reputation for myself which was unintentional. My first task was very apparent, horsemanship. Having never ridden a horse in my life this turned out to be a mission to beat all missions in spite of my natural physical abilities. Mongolian horsemen were exceptional riders and made it look so easy. Well, after numerous collisions with terra firma I got the message through trial and error and soon was riding with the best of them. Next came my weapons education which primarily focused on the bow, a Mongolian recurve bow, small but very powerful. Repeated ride pasts on horseback firing at full gallop until I became proficient enough to hit targets in the desired point. The days were filled with training and tending to the herds of horses and yaks which was Mongolians primary subsistence on the steppes. Their homes were called Yurts, circular tent like dwellings easy to dismantle and re-erect somewhere else. Most Tribes were fairly nomadic within their own territories and although during this period Mongolians were in constant conflict with China and had been for a long time then with the collapse of the Han Dynasty in 226CE and the beginning of the Three Kingdoms era where China was divided into three parts. An extremely violent period in China’s history. The Mongolians in the Inner Mongolia at that time period were made up of Yue Ban tribes.

My host’s name was Gantulga, chief of his small tribe of three hundred persons of mixed sexes. The men were the hunters and defenders and all men were obliged to be warriors and handle themselves with both bow and sword. Their national pastime of course was wrestling Mongolian style for which, my part was expected and be worthy of my size and height. It was fun all the same taking on their champion and using my martial arts skills to gain advantage in such away it brought forth shouts of awe. All in a day’s amusement and won me a huge respect among the warriors who insisted I teach them some offensive moves useful in battle in hand to hand combat situations. I was highly proficient in the art of Tai Chi Chuan, the fighting Tai Chi and a fore runner of Dim Mak, the touch of death which only emerged onto the martial arts scene in China in the 1800’s CE. During the Han Dynasty the Chinese practiced a style called Shou Bo which was still being practiced prior to earth’s demise. The captain of the warriors, Ganbold aptly named Steel, Steel, lived up to his name as being a fearless and brave man to whom I was drawn to out of our relationship with tactical interests. I would spend a lot of time with him during my stay with these people and he gained my utmost respect. His wife was something else. Tough as nails and could take on any men on a one to one basis and knock the hell out of them. This did not translate to her name which was Narantsetseg meaning, Sun Flower. The Chief’s oldest son was more of a diplomat than a warrior which did not seen to go down well with his Father who expected him to lead the tribe on his death as a warrior rather than a diplomat, no room for diplomacy on the steppes. Yet like all Mongolians on the steppes, hospitality was paramount if one came in peace although it was a case of self-preservation against marauding bandits bent on taking possession of prized live stock. Diplomacy got your head cut off with those degenerates. One day he called me aside and asked me to intervene and do something to persuade the son to commit more to his warrior obligations.

Ganbaatar. He called. This was my given Mongolian name meaning, Steel Hero.

I sat down beside him in front of his Yurt and waited.

Ganbaatar, you are a warrior I have come to trust and admire. It has taken us some time to trust you, but you have more than proved yourself to be an intelligent and clever man. I need to ask you about my son and I want you to be open and completely honest with me in your assessment of his character.

I studied his face before responding searching for any hidden agendas, finding none but, with an open expectant expression, replied.

Gantulga, honored and respected Father, I realize this is a hard thing for you to do, as we discuss after all, your Son. What I have to say may offend you, or perhaps not. From my observations of your son he is a dreamer, a poet with no stomach for violence. In a confrontation, which he has yet to face, he will piss his pants and end up dead.

Pausing for the words to sink in I watched his reaction. His weather beaten face did not flinch he just nodded in understanding accepting my description for what it was.

What do you suggest should be my solution to this problem? He asked.

Time for me to be very cautious, we are discussing his blood and blood is thicker than water.

My suggestion is this. Put him in charge of the tribe’s logistics and the negotiation of trade between tribes on the understanding he does so with all of your interests in mind and any sign of treachery, betrayal or double standards will be dealt with by tribe judgement. In this way his sense of belonging as an important part of the tribe will keep him loyal to your cause. In addition, give him what he wants, to be diplomatic. You can deal with his lack of warrior status by assigning one of your other sons as his body guard when on diplomatic business and in this way you will retain control and command of the overall wellbeing of your tribe for a time to come.

There was a few moments of contemplation then the man gave his answer.

It will be done.

That was it, no more words needed and I went about my business. So life on the steppes passed as usual with a few minor changes. One day Altantsetseg, [meaning Golden flower] the chief’s wife approached me with a question would I be interested in a wife of my own as she knew of a young woman from another tribe who was a widow without children who could be a good candidate for me. Well you could have blown me over, that was unexpected. The look on her face was dead serious so I shifted uncomfortably under her stare. Marriage, to a Mongolian woman, most of whom did not quite meet my criteria of beauty. This was awkward. To refuse her suggestion would mean her wrath and that was not wise at all. So to play along I agreed in principle to meet her but, did not have a dowry to offer for her. The woman laughed and jested.

A childless widow does not qualify for a dowry to her parents. That was paid by her deceased husband before he deflowered her.

Jeepers this was not going to be easy at all to get out of, so like a sheep being led to the slaughter the arrangements were made by messenger. A return message came and with it a price attachment. Five horses for the tribe otherwise forget it. Chief Gantulga didn’t even flinch and agreed. Tribe Captain Ganbold with five fully armed men leading five horses, set out with Altantsetseg, the chiefs wife and me alongside across the vast steppes to the neighboring tribesmen a good distance away. The journey took three days and on approach were surrounded by warrior horsemen yelling and whooping in fierce displays of strength. We were led to the main Chieftain’s Yurt where we dismounted and waited. I was the object of fascination. None had ever seen a blond, blue eyed man before, especially one my size a good almost two meters in height and weighing in at 120 kilograms of sheer muscle. The Chief, dressed in full battle regalia, a man in his late seventies, grizzled and as ugly as sin, emerged accompanied by his council members.

Greetings wife of Gantulga, how is that old goat these days? So, you bring this giant to my Yurt looking to take the hand of my daughter Balarama [crystal woman]?

Yes great and honorable Monkhbat [eternal firmity] and my husband says greetings you old horse fart, here are the five horses as was the price for the bride. Bring forth the woman so that we may conclude this transaction and then old man, you owe me a feast to see me off on my return journey.

Why you cheeky woman, still the same old vixen hey?

With that he called out and a young woman emerged out of the Yurt looking very uneasy at the sight of David and stood next to her Father in silence. I studied her closely. Under the furs one could not judge physical posture, her face was young, perhaps twenty to twenty four, actually very attractive for a Mongolian with nice facial features. Taller than most around her. Not at all what I expected yet the price of five horses for a chiefs daughter was puzzling unless the woman was barren in which case human female value depreciates somewhat out here in the steppes. Bolormaa was roughly shoved forward in my direction where she stumbled to a halt in front of me. Altantsetseg immediately removed the fur head cap and opened the front of her fur coat to reveal a very wholesome set of breasts beneath a flimsy linen undervest. Like bartering at a horse sale the deal was concluded and I found myself suddenly married Mongolian style and to seal the deal a feast and a wrestling challenge with as much Mongolian Arkhi, fermented mares milk, to consume. We slept it off on the ground outside the chiefs Yurt and thank heavens it was summer. The next day after bidding farewell we rode for home. My new bride rode next to me in silence all the way home her eyes constantly watching my every move as I did her, trying to gauge her ability. She rode very well, sitting abreast the horse like a man and I could see she was well accustomed to hard riding. When we arrived home there was the usual greetings and exchanges of news then it was back to business as usual. This was too much, so I rode out into the steppes with Bolormaa in tow to a place out of sight away from the encampment where there was a small stream and consummated our marriage. She was lovely and smelt good which was surprising and I knew then she and I would travel a long way together through life given the opportunity. Sometime later the noise of conflict drifted to my ears and with it the warning bells rang, the encampment was under siege. Wasting no time we mounted and too my amazement my wife primed her bow and galloped full stride next to me. The settlement was indeed being attacked by a large group of bandits.

Galloping full speed, I let rip with well-placed arrows into a group that were trying to round up part of the horses and my wife was there in support firing arrow after arrow finding their mark with unerring accuracy then when the arrows were no more she went for it with sword in hand and it was then that I saw the full extent of the battle raging. Ganbold and his warriors were not flustered by this assault and well versed in counter attacking and before long repulsed the bandits and were in hot pursuit inflicting many casualties. Possession is nine tenths of the law and bandit horses became a prize. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Bodies were burnt to avoid disease. Chief Gantulga took stock. All in all his defenses were a success but, had lost a few men and women in the conflict, sad as it was. We had gained valuable horses, weapons and by their success at repelling the attackers conveyed a message to whomever we were a force to be reckoned with. My new wife was something else. She never minced her words just did what had to be done. My knowledge of the Mongolian dialect was limited, but improving every day. I did not have my own Yurt so Bolormaa and I had to share with Ganbold and his wife which for me was not very pleasant. We opted for another alternative and I think in all the history of ancient Mongolia they had never seen a thatched A-frame home large enough to accommodate a standing person.

Winter would be another problem for which a solution had to be found and quickly. The solution was simple. Gather as much long grass as possible, bind it into long lengths so that it formed a skirt like appearance, then bind those lengths onto a wooden frame forming the thatched roof which made it water proof and kept the cold out. Side walls were dealt with in the same manner and so we had a house, not movable as a Yurt, yet equally if not better insulated. Winter came and with it the freezing cold winds of the steppes. Horses were corralled, thanks to the thatched walls with a good supply of grazing grass I had all the kids gather throughout the summer. Winter was not a time to be off guard and one had to be constantly vigilant taking turns to do scouting patrols. Once again life during the winter months was mostly spent tending livestock. Winters were freezing cold and one had to take care not to be careless by catching fever from over exposure to the elements.

I lost my wife the following winter to pneumonia. What a tragedy it was for me and completely devastating. I could no longer be with these people and had to move on. After a lengthy discussion with the elders, I rode out of the Mongolian life and headed for China. My accomplishments with the Mongolians was admittedly astounding for a man from off world whose life was governed by technology. Life was primitive in all aspects and survival depended on your ability to be completely flexible. Lessons well learned. My entry into China through rugged mountains and deep forests was a welcomed break from the endless tundra of the Mongolian steppes. Wild game was abundant and concealment a priority. I kept constant vigilance avoiding any towns, settlements and travelers. Once again night offered coverage as best as possible. Here was I dressed in Mongolian attire, armed to the teeth on a horse all knew came from the steppes with a Mongolian re-curve bow and this alone would raise more than one eyebrow. Not good resulting consequences should I be caught. A little hard to explain a man dressed as a Mongolian, looking anything other than a slant eye and bigger than the general size of man around about plus built like an Olympus god. Fortune favors the brave and I took the bull by the horns and went for it. Sadly, my horse decided it was time to move on and passed away much to my grief. I buried her out of respect, she had served me well, the least I could do. This was a little disconcerting, No more one way conversations around a camp fire with a dumb horse. Yes she would be sorely missed. It became extremely difficult to blend in so had to change my appearance. Came across a territorial garrison one night and was able to ‘borrow" some cloths and cooking utensils so covering my face with a turban moved on and travelled onward closer to the ocean I was sure was within reach. One day I happened upon a road where a family being confronted by an armed guard of sorts numbering four individuals who demanded payment for access to territory of what sounded like Xiangping. From my limited understanding of Chinese dialects was able in a roundabout way to fathom out what was going on. What was going on was not at all above board. The family consisted of the parents and three children, two boys and a young girl around seventeen years of age and very attractive. The guards were of the same opinion and had other thoughts on their minds. Body language was very apparent as too their intent. My approach hopefully would be the catalyst to stall any further action on their part until my presence was either ushered on its way or terminated on the spot as was their prerogative or attempted to, which was my right to defend myself.

This was the first time since on earth that I physically and willingly crossed the threshold of reason and engaged others in combat to one conclusion, deliberate calculated extermination. The Guards never saw it coming. Gathering the family together I ushered them in shocked silence forward along the road eastwards making as much distance from the scene as possible before somebody discovered those dead bodies. We travelled together for two days then parted company when a nearby settlement came into view. I was satisfied, done what I had to do, avoided a child gang rape and felt good about myself. The next few weeks were uneventful knowing my discovery was inevitable at some stage of the game and strived to make sure it was delayed as long as possible. Time passed, and much distance later finally reached the ocean through a vast thick natural forest. I estimated it had taken me roughly two years to reach this point and breathed a sigh of relief because detection in here would be that more difficult. No time to rest as I traversed the seashore which began to arch southward on its eastern face. Two weeks later not seeing a single soul convinced me it was time to rest, it had been a long and arduous journey so far. Scouting the forest found a small stream and an ideal place for a camp site then settled down to replenish my energies. This was a good time to hone my skills. The forest was an excellent provider of building materials of which bamboo proved its reputation, very versatile and strong. Concealment was the name of the game and moss provided the coverage for my small hide out in keeping with the surroundings and an ideal insulator from the cold. There was no shortage of wild game either which made me a little suspicious as to where exactly I was. Some Imperial or War Lords property which meant poaching had a singular end, headless. So I became super cautious and ultra-sensitive to my habitation and developed an awareness or sixth sense as it were. One of my chief concerns was tigers wondering around on my turf and often heard their calls. They left me alone and for that, one had to be thankful having no stomach for a confrontation I knew was one sided, the tigers. The other concern was people. Not having come across any did not mean they weren’t somewhere around or would inadvertently stumble on my footnote. My daily excursions would take me along the sea shore, deep into the forest searching for telltale signs yet found none. For the time being, my security was intact.

However, a month later that all changed in a way which took me by complete surprise. Conducting a deep reconnaissance due north of my home base was alerted to the sound of running feet on the forest floor still fairly far away. Listening deduced someone was in a great hurry and heading straight towards me. I poised and waited concealed in the under growth. What transpired next must have been so damn funny to see my jaw drop in disbelief? A young woman came bounding down an animal track with a baby clutched tightly in her arms. Instinct persuaded me to stay put and let her pass as she was running from something either human or animal. I waited and watched until sunset satisfied nothing was chasing I returned following her footprints and came across her nestled against a tree looking absolutely spent with eyes closed against the dark gloom of evening. Clothed in silk clothes of numerous colors and patterns worn by either a rich person or a concubine. Long black hair tangled with traces of twigs and leaves embedded therein. The baby was suckling from an ample bosom no doubt blissfully unaware of its predicament. She could not stay here for the night so I made my move. Knowing vital points on the body, could render a person within slit seconds unable to move or utter any sound and yet remain fully conscious. Poor thing must have wondered what in the world was going on when I took the child in one arm and hefted her over a shoulder then high tailed it to my camp careful not to leave tracks.

By the time I reached camp it was dark and the baby fast asleep. Laying the pair on my bear coat with the baby nestled against her, I lit a small fire so she could watch me with those terrified eyes as I went about preparing an evening meal for two. This was a first for me having this new found role dumped on myself, but my curiosity was aroused by this woman and her infant out here in the middle of nowhere. Understandably I too would freak out seeing this wild man with a full beard and long hair and to top it all, not Chinese, who had immobilized me and there was nothing I could do about it. I could imagine what was going on in her mind. Sex slave or something worse.

My culinary skills were not the best, yet could whip up a mean stew with natural plants and game meat. I propped her up to spoon feed her all the while watching those deep black eyes. She was a beautiful woman under all that disarray. A little on the thin side, but looking good. She was hungry and indicated for more which I obliged. Washing her food down with a long drink of water I moved back to feed myself and considered my plan of action. I knew if I released her from the immobility she would be off like a jack rabbit. On the other hand could not keep her like that because of the baby, beside what I knew of babies other that they screamed for food and crapped a lot. Not my idea of fun at all washing babies rear ends. For this night anyway I would play daddy and plug the kid into its mother’s breast to silence the wails. I did not sleep, but kept vigilance, the woman was in and out of slumber at times her eyes would shoot open in stark fear then relax recognizing her surroundings and seeing me watching her. Dawn was approaching and it was time for me to do my camp security rounds. The baby had not moved for a while happy in its slumber land having fed an hour prior which was somewhat embarrassing hooking the babe onto the breast with my clumsy hands all the while she watched me never taking her eyes off mine and for a very brief moment I thought I saw a feint flicker of a smile there. Two hours later I returned with a bundle of fresh edible vegetation and decided to release her. She obviously needed to relieve herself and tidy up a bit. By hand signals I attempted to indicate to her that out there was danger so she needed to be alert and not run away because the baby would stay with me to ensure she returned so I hoped. With a calabash of water she creeped out away from the camp to perform her necessaries and returned a while later looking so much better and tidier under the circumstances. Once again she sat on the bear skin cross legged with the baby in her lap. I was busy creating new arrow shafts from bamboo using heat to manipulate the bends to straighten the shafts. Arrow heads made of iron were hard to come by for me so I used the next best thing, bamboo to fashion fire hardened wicked arrow heads that were barbed down both edges. She watched me at my task with keen interest noting the way the arrows were flited using wild fowl feathers and bound with soaked animal tendon strips, a very effective trick learned from the Mongolians. Next I uncovered my sword to do blade cleansing and saw her reaction. She knew the origins of that sword and from the look on her face was trying to fit the pieces together and just could not. I was not Mongolian.

I smiled setting the sword back into its scabbard and tucked it away within my bundle of furs. Looking her straight in the eye indicated to myself and tapped my chest repeating the word

Da-vid.

She involuntarily mouthed the silent word then spoke my name. I laughed and repeated the chest tap with my name to which she retaliated.

Yu-an

Now we had gotten somewhere, basic communication on a name basis. Well for the moment that would do to break a little of the ice and for her to relax a bit more. I rummaged through my bundles and came up with a plan to make her new clothes. Yuan was quick to catch on what my intension was and jumped in choosing items from clothing I had "borrowed’ from a garrison settlement for disguise purposes. Selecting what was good for her she simply stripped naked and got dressed without inhibition. Must say I was taken aback and my eye balls had a hard time remaining in place, she was gorgeous. That now finalized she appeared happier, but to surprise her even more I extracted a homemade comb and placed it in her hand. Well that was the cherry on the top and she became totally engrossed in running the comb through her long hair. My ears were listening constantly identifying forest noises noting what was active around about and what alarm signals might be sounded by bird or insect alike. Up above the forest canopy a fish eagle screeched into the air celebrating a recent catch. Elsewhere a tiger on the prowl was voicing its discontent, but mostly the bird’s constant chatter was comforting in the knowledge all was well on the forest floor. For a number of days I would take her on my rounds and point out strategic places near the camp where she was not to walk. Booby traps of a very nasty kind coming in from above, below and ground level making for a very piercing and terminal point. She began to get the message and nodded her head confirming what I was trying to convey to her. My first line of defense, enabling valuable time to escape to make a clean getaway. Sadly though a young tiger fell fowl to the traps. I did not have the heart to skin it so buried it deep.

That was the extent of my life for those first weeks. Then the worst of my fears was realized at the end of the fourth week. The baying of hunting dogs. Time to take evasive action. The Cave, my alternate refuge point where we could lay low and avoid detection giving Yuan and the baby a safe place to be where dogs would not follow, neither for that matter, most humans. Seeing my haste she understood and grabbed what she could and the both of us ran north along the cliff edges for about a kilometer to a point where I had discovered a cave situated some twenty feet down from the edge of the cliff face and about fifty meters above pounding waves below. Hefting Yuan and the baby, climbed down over a slight overhang which obscured the cave entrance and deposited the two, returning to topside to retrieve the rest of our belongings. We would be safe as long as we lit no fires and remained hidden. Making sure she was secure I retuned topside fully armed and doubled back to my camp. Pandemonium. The dogs had ran into the booby traps and their handlers fell to the horrible traps coming at them from the trees. A bloody mess and it was then I saw the dead Grut and became acutely aware Yuan was being hunted by the most vicious of hunters. Ground reconnaissance urban terminator. These were employed only by the wealthiest, to do their dirty work for them and this could only mean Yuan was either royalty or a high class concubine of an imperial member. Alarm bells rang because Grut hunted in pairs. Where was the second Grut? No sooner had I thought about it when the hackles stood up on the back of my neck. That evil excuse of humanity was somewhere behind me. I lay motionless barely breathing, listening, gauging and calculating. Suddenly off to my right it appeared crouched low studying the forest floor looking for