Conn Iggulden - Bones Of the Hills

He saw many faces turned to him, looking for some words of encouragement as the hated enemy formed horns on either wing. His brothers were there among them, their faces bright with faith. Jelaudin fought with despair.

‘We have shown they can be beaten!’ he bellowed to them. ‘They are many, but not so many that we cannot gut them again. Kill this khan for me and you will know paradise. Let Allah guide your swords and let no man turn away from the fight so that he cannot face God with pride. They are just men!’

he shouted. ‘Let them come. We will show them this land is not to be taken.’

Those who heard turned back to the Mongol khan with new fire in their eyes. They raised shields and curved swords as the ground trembled under their feet.

At full gallop, Genghis slashed down with his sword. Arrows came in a ripple down the lines on either side, slightly delayed as each tuman registered the command and loosed. Ahead, he saw Jelaudin’s ranks drop to a crouch, holding the shields high. Genghis grunted irritably, sending another volley buzzing towards them. Many of Jelaudin’s men survived the first and then rose to their feet too soon, so that the second flight of shafts caught them. Arrows that could punch through an iron scale rocked them back.

The tumans on his wings jammed their bows onto saddle hooks, drawing swords as they reached the enemy. On his right, ahead of him, Genghis saw the tumans of Kachiun and Khasar smash into the standing lines, while Tolui and Jelme drew up almost on the river banks on his left. From there, they loosed shaft after shaft in a constant hail. Arabs fell, struck from the side as they raised their shields blindly to the front.

Genghis smelled the river and the fear sweat of thousands of men as he raced his mount straight at the centre. He hoped he would find the prince there, waiting for him. Jelaudin’s men were ten deep, but the Mongol ponies had been trained for such an assault and did not hesitate as they plunged into them. Genghis swept through the first three ranks, swinging his sword as men were knocked down by the impact. With his knees, he turned the mount on the spot, feeling the solid connection as she kicked and sent someone reeling. A wedge of his best warriors came with him, protecting the khan with their ferocity as they cut their way into the mass.

Genghis saw a turbaned prince in bright fabric and lunged at him before Jelaudin’s soldiers drove him back with sheer weight. He saw a shield loom at him, its owner cracking it into his horse’s face and turning her. Genghis killed the man, but he was forced back another step as more came in, using their shields well and punching blows around them.

Very few reached the khan to be killed. A thousand warriors moved with him, each the veteran of more battles than they could recall. The pointed wedge they formed dug its way deeper into Jelaudin’s ranks until they could see the river ahead of them. Jebe and Ogedai moved in the centre of two other arrowheads on either side of the khan, forming three sharp tines that speared the army they faced. Whoever faced the leading edges were cut down, while those they passed were killed by men behind.

The noise was terrible in the press, a roar of sound that battered at the ears. Genghis felt his arm grow tired and missed a sword that slid along the layered scales of his thigh until it gashed him above the knee. It would be one more scar on his legs to add to the mass of ridged skin. The pain improved his speed and he whipped his sword across the face of the attacker.

Jelaudin’s men did not break, perhaps because they had nowhere to go. Genghis was content at first to let the three wedges move in together, clawing strips in the enemy lines. From horseback, they loomed over men on foot, using the weight of the swords to swing down with greater force than those below and always seeing the next attack coming. Even so, Genghis felt hemmed in by the enemy and knew his men would be feeling the same. He saw a horse collapse as its front legs were cut, the warrior remaining in the saddle until a sword jabbed into his throat. Roaring warriors came through the gap in the wedge, fighting to reach Genghis himself. He turned, ready for them, but his men were fast and young. They blocked the path almost before it could form. He stood in the stirrups as they too were gashed and knocked from their mounts.

The rear of Jelaudin’s army was swirling, with more and more men converging on the khan. They stared up at him as they pushed through their own in reckless fury. Genghis saw the left of his wedge pushed back, crumpling under the chopping blades of the enemy. Some even used their shields in threes or fours, heaving together so that the horsemen were turned in on themselves. More and more spilled into the wedge, coming straight at him. Genghis had time for a glimpse over at Ogedai, but the pressure there was nowhere near as great.

Genghis moved his horse back three quick steps, giving him room as the wave of Arabs reached him. His horse answered every command from pressure of his knees, dancing round so that the first blow swung wide. Genghis took a man’s head, but the next struck at his mare’s foreleg. As she moved, the blade turned, but the weight of iron was enough to snap the bone. The horse screamed and Genghis fell badly, hitting the ground with his sword arm outstretched. He felt a sickening thump and struggled to get up without understanding he had torn the joint from its socket. There seemed to be yelling enemies everywhere and he was disorientated.

His wedge fell in on itself as his men struggled to protect the khan. More and more fought through from behind as a warrior dismounted and tried to shove Genghis into his own saddle. He died for his efforts, stabbed in the back as Genghis found his seat again. The khan’s sword had gone and his arm hung limply, every movement an agony. Genghis drew a dagger from his boot with his left hand and wheeled the fresh horse away. His men roared into the space he left behind, using their strength in a mad rush that would see many of them cut down as they grew slow from weariness.

Genghis pulled back through his own ranks, raging at the weakness of his arm. For a fleeting moment, he wished Kokchu was there to put him right, but there were other men who knew battlefield injuries. He caught sight of one of his own minghaan officers and shouted to him, calling him by name across the lines of fighting.

The officer almost lost his head as he turned to the khan, responding with a quick cut at a man’s legs before he yanked his horse around and forced his way through.

‘My lord?’ the officer said, gasping.

‘Put my arm back in,’ Genghis replied.

The pain by now was excruciating. He sat the horse calmly as warriors streamed around them both, staring curiously at the khan. Genghis put his dagger back in his boot and held the saddle pommel tightly with his left hand as he heaved a leg over and slid to the ground. The officer stopped gaping, his face becoming set.

‘Lie face up on the ground, my lord,’ he said, sheathing his sword.

Genghis did so with a grunt and kept his face cold as the officer took his loose arm and pressed his fingers into the joint.

‘Quickly!’ Genghis snapped.

The officer put his boot into Genghis’ armpit and heaved, twisting at the same time. There was another dull thump and Genghis saw white for an instant before the pain vanished. He allowed the officer to help him to his feet and tested the arm.

‘You can still cut downwards, but avoid lifting the arm away from your body, understand?’

Genghis ignored him. The arm felt weaker than before, but he clenched his fist and smiled. He could grip a sword.

On his right, Kachiun and Khasar had destroyed Jelaudin’s cavalry, sending a few dozen survivors running as they turned their swords and arrows on the centre. Jelaudin’s men were caught between pincers, but they fought on, seemingly intent on taking as many with them as they could. The pace of the battle had slowed as both sides tired and Genghis saw he would lose many more men as the day ended. He flexed his arm, looking ahead to where Ogedai and Jebe still fought. Their wedges were intact, the enemy falling back from them. On a clear plain, he might have pushed on, knowing that they would break soon. Against the river, Genghis shook his head and reached for the scout horn that dangled on his chest.