David Cook: Horselords

"What? Explain yourself, priest. I've no time for puzzles. The army must attack soon." The khahan got up and paced, occasionally slapping his hand against his side.

"I am not sure I can, Yamun," Koja apologized before he began. "Do you remember the story I told you about the making of the Dragonwall?"

Yamun grunted.

"I'm not sure it was just a story. The dragon spirit I spoke to is the Dragonwall. The Shou did not build the wall from ordinary earth and stone. The Dragonwall was built with the body of an earth spirit." Koja swiveled as he spoke, trying to face the khahan as the warlord stalked about the yurt.

"But what's the point?" Yamun snapped.

"The power of the wall comes from the dragon spirit. Somehow the builders bound the spirit to the wall so it cannot leave, even though it wants to. It is trapped inside the wall."

"So?"

"So, it seems to think that you-and I-are special. In particular, it expects you to obtain its vengeance by crushing Shou Lung."

"This spirit is wise. After all, I will conquer Shou Lung." Yamun rubbed at his chin, considering the spirit's words.

Yamun's boastfulness didn't phase the lama. He knew the khahan was unshakable in his conviction. "Yamun," he continued, "we might be able to free it, at least in this area. Once the spirit leaves, the Dragonwall becomes nothing but an ordinary wall, perhaps even less. Remember, the spirit's power is part of what the builders used to hold the wall together-like mortar for stone."

"You're saying that if the spirit goes the Dragonwall could be torn down?" Yamun considered the information, trying to make sure he understood everything.

"There will need to be a sacrifice," Koja added.

"Of what?"

Koja thought back to the night in the thunderstorm. "Horses, I think. Fine ones. Isn't that the offering you make to Teylas?" Koja shivered at the thought, uncomfortable at being part of such a rite. Such sacrifices were not the way of the Enlightened One.

"Horses will be no problem," Yamun stated flatly.

"There was something else," Koja added, his voice calmer. "The spirit hinted something about a woman of great magical power. Perhaps he meant the second empress. The spirit said that she was … not to be trusted." He looked at the floor, partially out of respect to the khahan and partially out of fear.

"She's never to be trusted," Yamun said, dismissing the lama's concerns.

Koja would not be put off. "No, it was more than that. It was how the spirit said it. I'm worried that someone-probably Bayalun-is planning something."

Yamun continued his pacing, showing no sign of surprise. "If I ask her, she'll only deny this."

Koja looked at the khahan. "I may have a way to check," he offered hesitantly. "You remember the guard and the Shou who were found dead before the battle?"

"What of them?" the khahan asked from across the yurt.

Koja stood up. "The spirit said something about looking to the dead for answers." The priest paused, then added, "Something didn't seem right about those bodies. The guard had his throat cut as if someone had surprised him. If that happened, who killed the Shou?" Koja found himself pacing in time with the khahan.

"Odder things have happened, priest," the khahan cautioned, stopping his stride. He set a hand against the tent post, examining the wood.

"Perhaps, Lord Yamun, but I had the bodies hidden away. I think it would be wise to speak with them."

"Do you really think these two have anything to do with Bayalun?" Yamun asked skeptically.

Koja scratched his head. "I don't know. Spirits often mislead people," he admitted, "but it is all I can think to do. I am ready. We could find out right now."

The khahan looked at the priest without really seeing him, his eyes focused on something intangible. One hand unconsciously played with the tips of his mustache. "Very well. Try. But you must be quick."

"Certainly, Yamun," Koja answered with a bow. Going to the tent door, the lama gave instructions to Sechen. The wrestler again stood watch, having arranged for Bayalun's guard.

It didn't take long for Koja and Sechen to set everything up in a secluded yurt where their activities would not be noticed. The bodies had been stored carefully, packed in snow to slow their decay. Working quickly, Koja stayed alone in the tent. While Sechen stood guard outside, the lama cast his spells. When he emerged, Koja looked drained. The night's activities were taking their toll on him.

"Remove the Tuigan warrior, but bring the Shou's head to Yamun's yurt," the priest ordered as he hurried past Sechen. "I must see the khahan."

Arriving back at Yamun's yurt, Koja wasted no time in describing what he had learned.

Grimly, the khahan looked toward the priest. "Chanar, too?" he asked, his amazement coloring his words.

"I am sorry, Yamun," the priest automatically mumbled.

"Sorrow is for the weak," Yamun suddenly growled.

Koja only nodded. "What will you do now?"

"Confront them," the khahan said. His face was set in a grim scowl. He called for a quiverbearer to summon Chanar and Bayalun. The servant hurried away with the message.

Neither Koja nor Yamun spoke while they waited. The khahan sat brooding, chin on hand. Koja tried to imagine the dark thoughts passing through Yamun's mind. He couldn't. Yamun's grim mood was beyond him. With a tired yawn, the lama resigned himself to waiting.

The servant returned and pulled back the door flap. "Khahan, they are here."

Yamun lifted his head. "Enter." Bayalun and Chanar came into the yurt. "Sit."

Leading the way, the second empress, leaning heavily on her staff, took her place. Chanar followed behind, then Sechen. The two plotters seated themselves on the respective sides of the tent, Bayalun alone at the head of the women's row, Chanar opposite her. Koja moved from his seat, out of Chanar's way. The general eyed the lama warily, then sat down at Yamun's feet. Quietly, Koja slid to the back of the yurt to stand alongside the impassive Sechen. The wrestler quietly opened the door, motioning an arban of soldiers to enter.

When all had taken their place, Yamun ordered a basin of black kumiss brought forward. Taking the ladle from the bowl, he held it high, presenting it to the four points of the compass, "Teylas grant us victory today."

The offering finished, Yamun took his seat. "Today we go to conquer a great enemy. Let the men be ready."

"May Teylas grant us victory!" Chanar said in response.

"He will, General," Yamun promised, glaring down at Chanar.

Slowly, Yamun extended the ladle to the last of the seven valiant men. Just as the general reached for it, Yamun tipped it, pouring the black kumiss onto the rugs.

"You were my anda," the khahan snarled, flinging the ladle out of reach.

Chanar was white-faced, and his mouth hung open in shock. "But, Yamun. I-"

"Quiet! I know of your treachery. You meet with the Shou. You plot with them."

"This is a lie, Khahan!" Chanar shouted, trembling where he stood. Yamun stepped forward on his dais, his broad frame towering over the ashen general. The khahan's eyes smoldered with fury.

Koja realized that Yamun, enraged with Chanar's deception, had momentarily forgotten Bayalun's presence. The priest looked her way. She had stepped back from the confrontation. The khadun's face was pale, but no fear showed in her eyes, only hatred and fury.

Bayalun took another step back, as if trying to distance herself from Chanar. Her hands reached into the sleeves of her robe. She withdrew a small stone and began to trace small figures into the air.

Koja realized that Bayalun was casting a spell. There was no one close enough to stop her in time.

The lama felt his pockets for some kind of weapon, something he could throw. He hit something hard at his chest, the paitza, his symbol of authority. Frantically, he yanked at the cord, pulling the heavy metal plate free.