The Eleventh Tiger Read Online Free PDF

pulled himself free, gorging himself on smoke-scented air until he thought he might be sick with it.
    He let himself relax as his breathing steadied. To one side he saw two men standing by his grave. A four-legged, hoofed grave. He coughed, tasting blood, but the tingle in his gums told him it came from there, not further down. The nearest man knelt. He was short and lined, but tough-looking, with a nose that surely hadn’t started its life in the shape it now was. Like the other man, this one wore a uniform: black trousers, dark tunic, and white belt and gloves. His tunic was dirty and torn, his face scratched in several places.
    ‘Are ye all right, Major?’ the man asked.
    So, he was a major. ‘I think so,’ the major said slowly.
    The man turned to talk to a younger, leaner man with lighter hair and a Vandyke beard that didn’t belong on someone so baby-faced. ‘Captain Logan, sir,’ he reported, ‘I think the major’s all right.’
    ‘Very good, Anderson.’
    The major rolled over and drew his knees up under him, preparing to stand.
    ‘Sir,’ Anderson protested, ‘d’ye really think you should be standing up? The way that horse rolled, your legs...’
    The major stood. His legs ached, but they supported him.
    They weren’t broken, which was good enough for him. In any case, his head felt so bad that he doubted a broken bone would even be noticeable by comparison.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ Anderson exclaimed. ‘How can you stand up?’
    ‘I’m all right, Anderson.’ He tried to focus on the bearded officer. ‘Logan, what...?’
    ‘We broke them, sir,’ the young captain said, quietly and reassuringly. He beamed. ‘You were magnificent, sir. But one of them shot your horse down. When he rolled over on you I feared the worst.’
    The major was tempted to ask who ‘they’ were, but some instinct stopped him. He’d said he was all right, and didn’t want to worry these men who were so concerned about him.
    ‘Well, it isn’t the worst. Not for me, anyway. The horse?’
    ‘Neck broken, sir,’ Anderson burred.
    The major nodded his understanding, though he could barely feel his head move. He could barely feel anything beyond the burning agony that throbbed between his ears.
    He might not remember what had just happened, but he knew a concussion when he felt one. He turned, and saw the source of the smoke that tainted his every breath.
    The flames were visible several miles from the town, casting an angry glow against the smoke overhead. The smell of burning clay as well as wood smoke was already in the air.
    On the gentle slope leading to the town the earth was churned and damp, and a few injured or dead horses were slumped where they had fallen. A number of boxes, baskets and weapons were scattered around, though there was no sign of bodies.
    ‘Any fatalities?’ the major asked.
    ‘Only you, we thought,’ Logan said. ‘The bandits decided discretion was the better part of valour, and ran for their lives.’
    ‘Better than nothing, I suppose. Lucky we were here.’
    ‘Too late for Qiang-Ling,’ Logan said sadly, indicating the town. ‘God alone knows where their militia was.’
    ‘Wi’ the bandits, probably,’ Anderson muttered, just loud enough to be heard. ‘Sleekit buggers, they are.’
    Logan shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. But they certainly would have been no match for a bandit column that size.’
    ‘Perhaps we should go and ask them,’ the major suggested.
    ‘I’ll need a new horse anyway.’
    ‘You can take mine,’ Logan offered.
    ‘No, that’s all right. I think the walk will help me get going again.’
    Logan nodded curtly and turned to Anderson. ‘Form up the column, and follow us in. I’ll go with the major and find him another horse for the journey back to Kwantung.’
     
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Anderson walked back to where the major could now make out two horses. He mounted one and led the other by the reins back into the darkness.
    Logan handed the major a