The Khan Series 5-Book Bundle: Genghis: Birth of an Empire, Genghis: Bones of the Hills, Genghis: Lords of the Bow, Khan: Empire of Silver, Conqueror (243 page)

KUBLAI’S NECK HURT FROM STARING OVER HIS SHOULDER
as he rode, his frustration clear to see. He felt Uriang-Khadai’s gaze on him and his frown eased.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn the tumans around and charge them. I’ve never seen so many soldiers on the move. With Bayar gone ahead, we have what, a tenth of their numbers? A twentieth? I’ve learned enough to know when to attack and when to tuck in my tail and run.”

He spoke lightly, but Uriang-Khadai could see the glances back were calculating, watching for flaws in the Sung lines. They were too far off to read accurately, but Kublai had spent a long time facing those very soldiers. He knew their strengths and weaknesses as well as his own.

“Do you see how the center is protected?” Kublai said. “That formation is new. So many, Orlok! It has to be the emperor, or at the least one of his relatives. Yet I must leave them behind to fight my own brother.” He leaned over in the saddle and spat as if he wanted to rid himself of the taste of the words.

“Still, we go on,” he said. “Do you think they will stop at the border?” His question was almost hopeful, but Uriang-Khadai answered quickly.

“Unless they are led by a man like your grandfather, almost certainly. They have put everything they had into a short campaign in their own lands. I doubt they have food enough to feed so many for more than a few weeks.”

“If they cross the border, I will be forced to take them on,” Kublai said, watching the older man closely. He laughed as Uriang-Khadai winced. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I’ll fight a running battle back to Xanadu and wear them down in my lands. I’ll scour the ground before me and keep them hungry and on the move. We could do it, Orlok. What are tenfold odds to us?”

“Destruction, I suspect, my lord khan,” Uriang-Khadai said. He thought Kublai was only teasing him, but there was an underlying hunger in the younger man. He had given much of his prime to the task of defeating the Sung. It had hurt Kublai deeply to break off, and for all his banter, the orlok thought he might welcome the chance to end it against the emperor himself.

As they crossed the border into Chin lands, marked by a series of small white temples, more and more of the men began looking back to see if the pursuing forces would follow. It was a bittersweet moment for Kublai when he saw the Sung vanguard halt. He had deliberately slowed his pace by then, so that they were barely a mile behind. He could see the front ranks standing in perfect stillness as they watched the Mongols depart and he imagined the jubilation in their ranks. The border darkened with standing men and horses for miles to the east and west, a clear statement of strength and confidence. We are here, they were saying. We are not afraid to face you.

“I will have to leave tumans here with such an army this close,” Kublai said to Uriang-Khadai.

“There is no point. No small part of our forces could resist such a host,” Uriang-Khadai replied. “The Chin dominion has its own tumans. You are now their khan, my lord. They are yours to use. Yet if the Sung invade while we are riding against your brother, your cities could be sacked. You could lose Xanadu and Yenking.”

“I am too old to do it all again! What do you suggest?”

“Make Salsanan your orlok for Chin lands. Give him the task of defending the territory and your authority to raise and lead armies in your name. You have ten times the land of this Sung emperor. He will not find it easy, even if he is foolish enough to enter your domain.”

Kublai nodded, making a quick decision.

“Very well. I will also leave one tuman here, to patrol the border and make it look as if we are ready for them.”

“Or to carry the news if the attack begins,” Uriang-Khadai said, refusing to give up his dour tone.

Kublai sighed as he rode further and further away from the border. It was the end of his campaign against the Sung. He prayed to the sky father that he would see the southlands again before he died.

By crossing, Kublai knew he had passed into territory that linked right back to Karakorum. He would not have been able to move his tumans without yam riders reporting it, galloping off on the first leg of a journey that would take them into Arik-Boke’s presence. There had been only one way around the problem and he had discussed it with General Bayar as well as Uriang-Khadai. Only Salsanan had spoken against the idea and Kublai had ignored him. Salsanan had not been there for the years of war among the Sung and he had not yet earned the respect of the others. Kublai was satisfied at the idea of giving the man orders to defend the Chin khanate.

They found the first yam station on a crossroads some ten miles in from the border. It had been looted, the riders taken as warriors for Bayar, the stables empty. Kublai rode past the way station with a sense of misgiving. It would be the first of many as his general broke yam lines right across Chin territory. In that single act, Kublai knew he had declared war on his brother. It could not be taken back. He had set a path that would end with his death or in Karakorum. He clenched his jaw as he rode on and a sense of relief swept over him. Xanadu lay north, where he would leave the rest of his camp followers, as well as Chabi and his baby daughter. His son, Zhenjin, would stay with him, strong enough at last to endure the distances. Kublai nodded to himself. From Xanadu, his warriors would ride with just spare horses and provisions, enough to last a month. They would go out almost as raiders, moving as fast as any force Genghis had commanded. It felt good to take his own fate in his hands. The choice was made; the doubts were past.

ARIK-BOKE DREW HIS BOW BACK TO HIS LIPS, LETTING THE
feathers touch him before he loosed. The arrow soared where he had aimed, taking a fallow deer buck through the neck and sending it tumbling, its hooves kicking wildly. His bearers whooped at the shot, kicking their mounts forward and jumping down to cut the animal’s throat. One of them raised the buck by its horns, the long neck arching as he showed Arik-Boke the spread. It was a fine animal, but Arik-Boke was already moving on. The circle hunt arranged by
Lord Alghu was at its zenith, with animals driven to the center over dozens of miles. It had begun before dawn, as the heat of the region around Samarkand and Bukhara made the afternoon a time of quiet and rest. The sun was high overhead and Arik-Boke was sweating in streams. Everything from snorting hogs to a carpet of sprinting hares ran under the hooves of his mount, but the khan ignored them all when he heard the coughing roar of a leopard somewhere close. He spun in the saddle and cursed under his breath as he saw Alghu’s daughter already on the charge, her lance held low and loose in her hand. The girl, Aigiarn, had a name that meant beautiful moon, but in private, Arik-Boke thought of her as the hainag, a muscular yak with a short temper and thick, matted hair. She was a freak of a woman, so large and bulky across the shoulders that her breasts were mere flat sacks on muscles.

Arik-Boke shouted for her to ride clear as he saw a flash of dark yellow in the press of animals. Only a Persian leopard could move so swiftly and he felt his heart leap at the glimpse. He lunged forward and almost collided with Aigiarn as her mount danced in front of him, spoiling his shot. The noise of roaring men and screaming animals was all around them and she had not reacted to his shout. As he yelled again, she lowered her lance and leaned into a blow as a flash of gold and black tried to dart under the hooves of her horse. The leopard snarled and yowled, seeming to curl around the long birch spear as it punched into its chest. Aigiarn cried out in triumph, her voice as ugly to Arik-Boke’s ear as the rest of her. While he swore, she leapt down, drawing a short sword that resembled a cleaver as much as anything. Even with the lance through its chest, the leopard was still dangerous and Arik-Boke shouted again for her to stand clear for his shot. She either ignored him or didn’t hear and he muttered in anger, easing the bow. He was tempted to send a shaft into the young yak herself for her impudence, but he had traveled a long way to flatter her father and he restrained himself. In disgust, he saw her cut the leopard’s throat as he turned his mount away.

With the burning sun so high, the circle hunt was almost at an end and there were no great prizes left in the swarming mass of fur
and claw all around the riders. Arik-Boke dropped a warthog with a neatly aimed shaft behind its shoulder, cutting into its lungs so the animal sprayed red mist with every breath. Two more deer fell to him, though neither had the spread of horns he wanted. His mood was still sour as a shout went up and children ran in among the warriors, killing hares and finishing off the wounded beasts. Their laughter only served to irritate him further and he passed over his bow to his servants before dismounting and leading his horse out of the bloody ring.

Lord Alghu had known better than to take the best animals. His servants were already dressing the carcasses of deer for the night’s feast, but none of them had a great spread of antlers. The only leopard had fallen to his daughter, Arik-Boke noted. She had waved away the servants and taken a seat on a pile of saddles to begin skinning the animal with her own knife. Arik-Boke paused as he walked past her.

“I thought the shot was mine, for the leopard,” he said. “I called it loud enough.”

“My lord?” she replied. She was already bloody to the elbows and once again Arik-Boke was struck by the sheer size of her. In build, she reminded him almost of his brother Mongke.

“I didn’t hear you, my lord khan,” she went on. “I haven’t taken a leopard pelt before.”

“Yes, well …” Arik-Boke broke off as her father strode across the bloody grass, looking worried.

“Did you enjoy the hunt, my lord?” Alghu asked. His eyes flickered to his daughter, clearly nervous that she had managed to offend his guest. Arik-Boke sniffed.

“I did, Lord Alghu. I was just saying to your daughter that she came across my shot as I was lining up on the leopard.”

Lord Alghu paled slightly, though whether it was anger or fear, Arik-Boke could not tell.

“You must take the pelt, my lord. My daughter can be blind and deaf in a hunt. I’m sure she meant no insult by it.”

Arik-Boke looked up, realizing the man was genuinely afraid he
would demand some punishment. Not for the first time, he felt the thrill of his new power. He saw Aigiarn look up in dismay, her mouth opening to reply before her father’s glare made her drop her head.

“That is generous of you, Lord Alghu. It is a particularly fine pelt. Perhaps when your daughter has finished skinning the animal, it could be brought to my quarters.”

“Of course, my lord khan. I will see to it myself.”

Arik-Boke walked on, satisfied. He too had been one of many princes in the nation, each with their own small khanates. Perhaps he’d had a greater status than most as the brother of the khan, but he had not enjoyed instant obedience then. It was intoxicating. He glanced back to find the daughter glaring at him, then quickly looking away as she realized she had been seen. Arik-Boke smiled to himself. He would have the skin tanned into softness, then make a gift of it to her as he left. He needed her father and the small gift would reap much greater rewards. The man obviously doted on his yak of a daughter and Arik-Boke needed the food his khanate produced.

He rubbed his hands together, ridding himself of flakes of dried blood. It had been a good day, the end of months touring the small principalities that made up the greater khanate. He had been feted wherever he went and his baggage train groaned under the weight of gifts in gold and silver. Even his brother Hulegu had put aside the strife of his new lands, though General Kitbuqa had been slaughtered there by Islamic soldiers when Hulegu came back to Karakorum for the funeral of Mongke. His brother had carved a difficult khanate for himself, but he had paraded his men for Arik-Boke and given him a suit of armor shaped from precious jade as a gift and token of affection.

In the company of Lord Alghu’s court, Arik-Boke entered the palace grounds in Samarkand, walking under the shadow of a wide gate. On all sides were carts covered in the heaped carcasses of animals they had taken that day. Women came out to greet them from the palace kitchens, laughing and joking as they stropped their knives.

Arik-Boke nodded and smiled to them, but his thoughts were far away. Kublai had not yet replied to him. His older brother’s absence was like a thorn in his tunic, pricking him with every movement.

It was not enough to have men like Alghu bowing to him. Arik-Boke knew the continuing absence of Kublai was being discussed all over the small khanates. He had an army with him that had not sworn allegiance to the new khan. Until they did, Arik-Boke’s position remained uncertain. The yam lines were silent. He considered sending another set of orders to his brother, but then shook his head, dismissing the idea as weakness. He would not plead with Kublai to come home. A khan did not ask. He demanded—and it was done. He wondered if his brother had lost himself in some Chin ruins, oblivious to the concerns of the khanate. It would not have surprised Arik-Boke.

KUBLAI RODE IN POURING RAIN, HIS HORSE LABORING AND
snorting as it plunged through thick mud. Whenever they stopped, he would change to a spare horse. The sturdy animals were the secret of his army’s power and he never envied the much larger Arab stallions, or the Russian plow horses with shoulders higher than his head. The Mongol ponies could ride to the horizon, then do it again the next day. He was not so sure about himself. His numb hands shook in the cold and he coughed constantly, sipping airag from a skin to ease his throat and let a trickle of warmth spread down his chest. He did not need to be sober to ride and it was a small comfort.