Anshi: The Lost Eagle of the Steppes

High Minister Han

***Please note, dear Readers, that this chapter deals with Han's childhood, in part. That means that he was once a normal child in a normal life. Then he was sold to eunuch makers and his life was unalterably changed forever. It deals with that transformation, under the knife of adults who reduced him physically and socially into the lowest of despised slaves. This is harsh but did happen in the history of our planet. It may disturb, but hopefully it will also remind us to be kind to our fellow human beings in our own time.

Thank you.***

High Minister Han

Han woke in a cold sweat, his throat constricting, never allowing the screams, wrenched from childhood nightmares, to escape into sound. His breathing was labored and the terror he felt was as all-encompassing as the moment when all he had been, was ripped away from him by the sickle-shaped knife of the eunuch makers. He had been four years old at the time.

He walked to the corner of the room and stood to pass water. The stoma had been preserved well by his executioners (he refused to see them as anything else) and he had no problems in that respect. He had been taught to act pleased at how well he had healed. The gods and the fact that his first purchaser had mercifully insisted on the best to mangle the child's body instead of the common brutes that usually performed these sorts of services, was considered a great and caring act. Of course, that mercy was added to his overall cost at the time he was sold. Nothing in this life came without a price.

These nightmares had plagued him since that trauma, his emasculation. It was commonplace at the schools he attended with others like himself. Slaves with potential, and children like himself, were educated and sold to the highest in the land for their exclusive use, all suffered the same night terrors, and all had been altered in the same fashion. All had watched in shaking fear as 90% of the children who had been neutered at the same time, died of blood loss, infection, or, as the build-up in urine from stomas that did not heal with a clear passageway, became constricted and their own bodies' waste fluid poisoned them. They, that survived, were considered blessed. He doubted that any of them would have agreed with that assessment. But it was the terror of the procedure itself that woke him every night, sometimes driving him to near suicide with their constant torment.

He had never been given pain medication, and bandages were wrapped tightly around his abdomen and each thigh to cut off the blood flow. The knife was wielded with remorseless precision. He endured the agony, the sheer unending agony of the incision. Then followed stitching and the forced walks around the room to keep his body circulating. The worst may have been the three days of unending thirst and their refusal to give the children one single drop of water. This nearly drove him to the brink of madness, a relief denied by his own cold intellect and his spirit that would not allow him to give up. It was why he was never without a pitcher of fresh water by his side. Feeling parched was the feeling of impending death to him to this day.

He wandered his room, as usual, until he sat at his desk and began to pour over reports and petitions, filtering out the trivial from the ones important enough to be presented to the Childe King and the Dowager Queen. One report caught his attention. Two months ago the Lost Eagle Caravan had left Cloud Recesses. His heart leaped.

Anshi...was coming...

Anshi was seeking his roots at last, and part of his mission would be a stop for the winter in Qian, to finalize normalization between the two territories.

Somehow, he felt calmer at the news. His Singer was returning, and he remembered those eyes the day the child had been dragged into the palace courtyard, emerald eyes blazing with anger and fear, yet trying to still murder the brute who, at the cost of the child's family and tribe. had had thrown him to the ground before the Crown Prince and himself.

He remembered trying to remain stoic and calm when he saw them the first time. He had made an enemy out of Anshi, in the only ways he could find to save him. He trained him hard, was remorseless, and frightening in the ways of teaching through discipline, made even more so when the trainer was a mere six years older than the pupil. The Crown Prince would have had him, and his pupil, beheaded if he failed, so he did the only thing he could and that had made the younger child as perfect as possible, as quickly as possible, and he accepted the hatred and anger that followed as Anshi became the perfect attendant. It was the price he paid for being a eunuch, already balancing on the only precarious grounds a eunuch could be expected to navigate, especially one who had also made the secret but still traitorous mistake of falling in love with his student.

A mere six years separated them during the time he trained the young boy and guided him. As Anshi aged and began his change into puberty at 13, Han was now 19. He had been transferred to the service of the Old King and Anshi had been moved to a new palace built for the Crown Prince as his training to reign intensified.

He was relieved to see Anshi go. He found was already in love with the young teen, deeply and hopelessly. His own condition ensured that a relationship between them was impossible, but the emotions stirring were those of a first love for the taciturn young slave, who had never before allowed himself to be cornered in such a dangerous situation. Han agonized as he struggled for a cold and rigid rule over his emotions. Pain filled him as he watched the teen Anshi become just as emotionally involved as he developed the hero worship for the Crown Prince who ultimately destroyed him.

After Anshi faked breaking his voice when he heard the rumors that the Crown Prince ordered the murder of everyone he loved, Han had been dragged to the punishment hall. He had been forced to watch the beating of Anshi at a distance and heard the screams that tore the boy's voice. Then after Anshi had been dragged away to be sold, the whip was presented to the Crown Prince who sat, stroking it between his fingers. Then the torturer was handed the bloody thing and turned it on Han. After it was over the Prince had the whip taken to his quarters and said,

"You talked me out of neutering that brat years ago. He might die, you said. Why not use that voice for as long as you can, you said. It may not change in the long run, you said. You said you said, you said. What do you have to say now, Eunuch Han?"

He had no words to answer the Crown Prince with because all Han could see was his precious Anshi being dragged away. It played endlessly through his tortured mind. His efforts throughout the years as he had begged the Crown Prince not to send Anshi to the butchers who wielded the curved knives, had only bought the time for it to ensure that the victim would be too old for the procedure. At least Anshi would grow up to be a man, not a despised non-person like himself. Sadly, he had not had time and now was too injured, to plead for Anshi's sale to be canceled.

He did not see him again until the grown Anshi appeared to reap his vengeance on the Crown Prince. Strong, beautiful, ruthless yet compassionate. Han felt his heart break open as the emerald eyes looked at him with barely concealed contempt and accusation. "You do not want another visit from me," he had warned as he disappeared into the darkness.

The new Dowager Queen was the only one he had told the entire story to, withholding nothing. It was part of his bid to become the Great Eunuch and then later the High Minister. She had wanted every detail of his life in the Palace. He had suggested approaching the Lan Sect with the offer of alliance and the troops to help quell Meng Shi's army. And he had stood helplessly aside as the Lans sheltered the mentally injured young man after he slaughtered thousands in his loss of control, the Voice sparing none of the enemy force. He was happy that he had them, grateful for their care of him and he was left alone, to choke on the frustration of having, once again, to swallow his devotion and turn his back.

Sometimes, this life was unbearable. Beyond unfair. Impossible to survive. Yet survive he did because that was the only option that he seemed to be able to choose.

Now, finally, Anshi would return. He would have to endure his hatred and contempt. But seeing this person survive as well, watching from a distance as he thrived and flew into the northern skies, was his only joy. He would add this visit to the edge-worn memories of the past and would be happy to bring them out with the others when his Emerald-eyed boy departed once more. It was the only fate he could see for himself. It would have to be enough.