Beyond the Great Wall

BEYOND THE GREAT WALL:

THE LAND OF THE HUNS

Judy Lu

Prologue

31 B. C.

Mingfei knew they were trying to steal her soul. She was determined to resist. A metallic wind howled across the grassy steppes under a hazy blue moon.

The High Shaman of the White Wolf Clan paced before her, decked in the magic silver wolf skin worn for secret spirit ceremonies. Mingfei tasted his herb-laden breath as he panted out the mystical incantation. A line of sacred dancers, faces and limbs streaked with white ash, moved to the rhythm of their goatskin drums. Under the pale moon, their silhouettes merged into a shadowy encroaching line, undulating to the beat of the drums, slowly encircling Mingfei’s soul with an icy edge.

Mingfei realized they were bent on “freezing” her soul as a prelude to its imprisonment. At the shaman’s signal, the drum beat and dance pace picked up. The rhythm of the drums, the hypnotic chant, the pounding of the dancer’s skin-wrapped feet against the hard earth, intertwined to produce an other-worldly harmony, designed to summon all the powers of the almighty White Wolf. Mingfei struggled against their fervent call, focusing all her energy on her third eye, the gateway to her eternal soul.

Zuzu, leader of the People of the White Wolf, had captured Mingfei following the defeat and capture of her husband, his younger brother, the Great Huhanya Khan. The Great Khan, overlord of the Huns, had lost his final battle for control of the Hun Empire. Zuzu dragged him out onto the vast plain, had his body strapped to five warrior ponies and slowly split asunder. He threw the carcass remnants to a horde of rapacious vultures circling overhead.

The shaman's incantation turned to a high-pitched howl, like a wolf that had just captured and is about to devour its prey. The sound of the wind coursing through the endless grasslands brought a tart taste to the tip of Mingfei’s tongue. The bright purple ball spinning in the center of her third eye began secreting a familiar odor, the unique scent of the village where she was born. She dove deeply into this comforting, hometown aroma.

But the shaman’s piercing howl and the dancer silhouettes kept moving closer, desperate to entrap her soul, an elusive spirit from a far-away land to the south, the mystical land called China. They wished to transform that magical essence to their own cause.

Suddenly, a mixed feeling of warmth and cold sprang from Mingfei’s pelvic region, gradually coursing its way upward through her body into her throat. She knew this new sensation was the effect of the “soul-inducing” mare’s wine the shaman had poured down her throat, to drive her into the involuntary trance.

At lightning speed, the feeling jumped to her brain. She soon lost all sense of body, but at great effort still managed to retain control of her mind. To combat the shaman’s mind-altering techniques, she dove deeper into that purple ball in the third eye, until the ball had consumed her, soul and body. From childhood, she had possessed this uncanny mind-altering ability, long before her unexpected journey into the Hun grasslands.

Magically, a red door opened. She glided into a thick, white mist. As she passed through the pearly layers, she began to feel light, lighter than the clouds around her. Drifting beyond the mist, she approached a green jade arch, pure and perfect. Under the arch, she saw a strange but inviting place, exquisite in shape and appearance, seeming to hold familiar faces and voices. A woman’s gentle hand stretched forth and guided her through open-air markets filled with fragrant odors and soothing sounds. She heard people calling her by her maiden name, “Chiang, Chiang!”

She had been in this place many times before.

Mingfei’s mind trips to this fantasy land had become more frequent since she arrived in the land of the Xiongnu, the barbarian Huns. As she dreamed on in her spirit tours, the life in that other world unfolding before her at times astounded her. She knew this world was not from her present life, for she could not relate it to any current happenings or surroundings. She thought it might be her past life, from what little she could remember of her mother’s tales. But at times it seemed that it was a totally different life, with its own past, present and future. She kept returning, time and again, and had developed a deep emotional attachment to that remarkable trance world.

The shaman signaled the drummers and dancers to slow their pace. His chanting reduced to a low, monotonous moan, like the agonized wail of a lost soul. Hun warriors scurried forward and lit two bonfires in front of Mingfei, an oversized cart wheel spinning behind each, in opposite directions. As the wheels to the right and left spun, alternatively clockwise and counterclockwise, they contorted the flames into a myriad of ghostly patterns. The shaman felt this would provide the final blow, transforming her mind, dragging it to the deepest level.

The chanting became guttural, gruntlike, dull but forceful, like a giant mallet driving stakes into the hard earth, each loud thump evoking powerful vibrations in Mingfei’s body. She had now descended into a deep coma.

Suddenly, all trembling ceased. Her eyes shot open wide, blazing forth incandescent flames. Her unbraided tresses, now white as the snow that covered the barren steppes in winter, streamed forth in all directions.

“Her soul is out!” the shaman shouted. The sacred dancers let forth a protracted, keening howl.