David Cook: Horselords

"Look!" Koja cried as he glanced back toward the Dragonwall. He pointed to the great fortification.

A great, taloned claw burst through the soil, then another, gouging into the dirt along the structure's foundations. The wall split and cracked, revealing a spiny, scaled back arching and pushing upward. The scales glistened blue and brown along the length of the reptilian hide. Far to the right, away from the gate, the fortification exploded, scattering shards of brick and granite across the plain. Broken men hurtled off the battlements and fell, crushed, to the ground. A coiling tail, forked and pointed, thrashed free of the shattered battlements. Clouds of dust began to roil away from the stone wall, driven forward by the collapsing stone.

The grinding roar of cracking stone and the faint screams of men and horses were overwhelmed by a new sound, a howling cry of tremendous volume. It was part animalistic roar, part shouted cry. Koja wondered if this was the true voice of the dragon spirit.

Suddenly, the great gate shivered. Wood shrieked as the massive doors warped and bent. There was a popping crack as the hardwood valves split, the force of the sudden release blowing the wooden gates outward. The stone gatehouses to either side twisted and heaved. The immense gate of the Dragonwall was shattered.

"Standard-bearer! Get ready," Yamun shouted, barely heard over the destruction. "We ride forward now!" The khahan ran back and mounted his unruly horse.

Koja also ran to a horse. Over his shoulder, he looked back at the wall. There, in the yawning gate, the lama saw a pair of eyes, glistening with a lambent blue fire, fringed by the ornate carapace of a great dragon. It was the same set of eyes he had seen last night.

The vision lasted only a second. Driven by the sudden rush of wind, a column of dust spiralled into the air, explosively pushing the gatetowers to the side. The blockhouses splintered and fell, crashing onto the remains of the wall to either side of the gate. The banners of Shou that once adorned the tower peaks were snatched away by the wind and carried into the sky. Koja watched, too numb to be amazed, as the writhing column solidified to become the twisting serpentine shape of a majestic dragon. Before the priest could see any more, a choking cloud of dust and sand swept over the Tuigan line.

The whirling sandstorm passed in no more than a few minutes. Even before the dust cleared, the thunderous crashes of rock died away. After the chaos that came before, everything now seemed still. Coughing and gagging, Koja struggled with his horse.

"It worked, priest! Better than you promised!" Yamun shouted. Koja turned and looked where the khahan pointed.

Ahead, where the Dragonwall had been, with its imposing gate and towering walls, was a gaping breach. The gatehouses were shattered, the heavy wooden doors in splinters. The towers had fallen away from the road, leaving the opening clear. At other points to the left and right, the wall was also breached, tumbled into rough piles.

Yamun barked out commands as he gestured toward points along the wall. "Standard-bearer, signal Chanar. He is to take the Kashik through the center. He will lead the attack! Hurry! Hurry, before they can recover!" Yamun yelled at the dazed khans around him, shouting them into motion.

It dawned on Koja that he stood in the path of two hundred thousand warriors. Quickly he tried to move his horse to the side, but there was no safe escape. He could either charge forward into battle or risk being trampled where he stood.

"Signal the khans to be ready!" Yamun ordered. The white yak tails dipped, giving the signal the warriors waited for. As the command was relayed through the army, the men of each tumen raised their war cry. Once again the air thundered with the voice of destruction.

"Attack!" shouted the khahan, nodding to the drummers.

The war drums sounded, signaling the Kashik to move. Chanar, for a second, reined in his horse, almost refusing to charge. The Kashik began to advance behind him anyway. Finally the general stood in his saddle and whipped his horse forward. The mount leaped into motion and behind it swept the black-robed mass of the Kashik, eight thousand strong. Before the first men had even reached the crumbled wall, Yamun was shouting orders for the other tumens to charge and whipped his own horse forward.

Yamun charged at full gallop, surrounded by his khans. Koja rode in their midst, dragged along by the wave of men around him.

In a moment the Tuigan reached the shattered gate; in another they poured through the breach. The Shou garrison that once manned the walls and filled the towers was shattered. Generals and troopers alike had been lost. Those who survived were already streaming back from the broken fortification, some forming ragged units of several thousand, many more fleeing the mounted doom that poured through the gaps. With a howl of triumph, the Tuigan horsemen swept down upon the routed enemy. The great battle of the Dragonwall was won before it had even begun.

Koja sipped on a cup of tea brewed in the Shou style. On his throne, Yamun drank the vile salted brew favored by the Tuigan. In front of the warlord was spread a map of the Mai Yuan province of Shou Lung, which had been found in the rubble of the gatetower. On it Koja had carefully marked the movements of Yamun's scouts in broad, red arrows. They fanned out from a single point on the Shou frontier, reaching like fingers into the interior. The scouts had been riding for many days, some harrying the fleeing enemy and others shadowing the small garrisons that were now on the move. The scope of the Tuigan success had come as a surprise to the khahan, and, Koja suspected, to the Shou emperor, too.

"Yamun," Koja asked, as he blew the steam off his cup, "what will you do now? Continue the invasion?"

Yamun looked up from slurping his tea. "First we'll wait for Hubadai and his men. Then we must fatten the horses. When this is done, I'll conquer Shou Lung," Yamun answered confidently.

The priest didn't doubt the khahan's resolve. Already Yamun had done more than Koja thought was possible. "Shou Lung is huge, Khahan. You do not have the men to rule all of this land."

"Before I worry about ruling it, I must conquer it," Yamun pointed out. "Besides, I have men like you to manage my empire." The khahan rolled up the map. "Now, there is business to attend to." The khahan set his tea aside and called to the quiverbearer near the door. "Bring the prisoners in."

The man quickly stepped outside. There were a few muffled commands and then the door flap was pulled open. Sechen, now a khan, and several Kashik entered the yurt and took positions by the walls. Immediately after came Chanar and Bayalun. The general was still dressed in the clothes he had worn into battle several days ago. They were dirty, bloodstained, and torn. Bayalun wore a simple brown and yellow robe. The sleeves were long, hiding the bonds on her wrists. On Koja's advice, the khadun's hands were bound to keep her from casting spells. The priest did not see any need to gag her. Both conspirators moved slowly, reluctantly. They obviously dreaded this audience.

The guards led the pair to the center of the yurt and roughly pushed them down to their knees. Chanar kept his eyes to the floor, but Bayalun glared venomously at her stepson.

Yamun rose from his throne and slowly circled the two. Finally, he spoke in solemn tones. "You've been proven guilty of treachery against your khahan. Now, I must give my final judgment." At this Chanar raised his head, stubbornly ready to meet whatever doom Yamun might name.

"By law," Yamun continued, "you should be taken into the wilderness and strangled. This would satisfy the ancient codes of our people." He paused and let the prisoners think about their fate.