Conn Iggulden - Lords of the Bow

Khasar shook his head. He did not want to think of that. As he hesitated, Kachiun gripped him by the shoulders, almost shaking him.

"I don't know!" Khasar replied. "If he dies, we will return home to the Khenti mountains and lay him out for the hawks and vultures. He is a khan; what would you expect me to say?"

Kachiun let his hands fall. "If we do that, the emperor will claim a great victory against us." He seemed almost to be speaking to himself and Khasar did not interrupt. He could not begin to imagine the future if Genghis were not there.

"The emperor would see our army retreat," Kachiun went on grimly. "In a year, every Chin city would know we had been turned back."

Khasar still said nothing.

"Can't you see, brother?" Kachiun said. "We would lose everything."

"We could return," Khasar replied, yawning. Had he slept at all? He wasn't sure.

Kachiun snorted. "Within two years, they would be attacking us. The emperor has seen what we can do and he will not make the same mistakes again. One chance we have made for ourselves, Khasar. You cannot wound a bear and run. It will chase you down."

"Genghis will live," Khasar said stubbornly. "He is too strong to fall."

"Open your eyes, brother!" Kachiun replied. "Genghis can die like any other man. If he does, who will lead the tribes, or will we see them splinter apart? How easy would it be then for the Chin army when they come hunting?"

Khasar saw the first pink light of dawn behind Yenking in the distance. He welcomed it in a night he'd thought would never end. Kachiun was right. If Genghis died, the new nation would break apart. The old khans would assert their authority over the quarreling tribes. He shook his head to clear it.

"I understand what you are saying," he told Kachiun. "I am not a fool. You want me to accept you as khan."

Kachiun stood very still at that. There was no other way, but if Khasar could not see it, the new day would begin with bloodshed as the tribes fought to leave or remained loyal. Genghis had bound them together. At the first hint of weakness, the khans would taste freedom and fight to keep it.

Kachiun took a deep breath, his voice calm. "Yes, brother. If Genghis dies today, the tribes will need to feel a strong hand on their necks."

"I am older than you," Khasar said softly. "I command as many warriors."

"You are not the man to lead the nation. You know it." Kachiun's heart was racing with the strain of making Khasar understand. "If you think you are, I will take an oath to you. The generals will follow my lead and carry the khans with them. I will not fight you for this, Khasar, not with so much at stake."

Khasar knuckled the tiredness out of his eyes as he thought it through. He knew what it must have cost Kachiun to make the offer. The thought of leading the tribes was intoxicating, something he had not dreamed of before. It tempted him. Yet he was not the one who had seen the dangers to the fragile nation. That remained like a thorn in his flesh to worry him. The generals would come to him expecting him to solve their problems, to see a way through difficulties that they could not. He would even have to plan battles, with triumph or failure resting on his word.

Khasar's pride warred with the knowledge that his brother was better able to lead. He did not doubt that Kachiun would give him complete support if he became khan. He would rule his people and no one would ever know this conversation had taken place. As Genghis had been, he would be father to all their people. He would be responsible for keeping them all alive against an ancient empire bent on their destruction.

He closed his eyes, letting the glowing visions drain from his mind.

"If Genghis dies, I will take an oath to you, little brother. You will be khan."

Kachiun sighed in exhausted relief. The future of his people had hung on Khasar's trust in him.

"If he does, I will see every Chin city destroyed in fire, beginning with Yenking," Kachiun said. Both men glanced at the looming walls of the city, united in their desire for vengeance.

Zhi Zhong stood on an archery platform, high above the plain and the Mongol camp. A cold breeze was blowing and his hands were numb on the wooden railing. He had been standing there for hours, watching the tribes for some sign that the assassin had been successful.

Just a little while before, his vigil had been rewarded. Points of light sprang up among the gers and Zhi Zhong had gripped the railing tighter, his knuckles whitening as he squinted into the distance. Dark shadows raced through the flickering pools of light and Zhi Zhong's hopes rose, imagining the spreading panic.

"Be dead," he whispered, alone in the watchtower.

GenghisLordsoftheBow

G ENGHIS OPENED BLOODSHOT EYES, finding both of his wives and his mother at his side. He felt appallingly weak and his neck throbbed. He raised a hand to it and Chakahai caught his wrist before he could disturb the bandage. His thoughts moved sluggishly and he stared at her, trying to remember what had happened. He recalled standing outside the ger, with warriors rushing around him. It had been night and it was still dark in the ger, with only a small lamp to banish the gloom. How much time had passed? He blinked slowly, lost. Borte's face was pale and worried, with dark circles under her eyes. He saw her smile at him.

"Why… am I lying here?" he asked. His voice was feeble and he had to force the words out.

"You were poisoned," Hoelun said. "A Chin assassin cut you and Jelme sucked out the filth. He saved your life." She did not mention Kokchu's part. She had endured his chanting, but not allowed him to stay, nor anyone else to enter. Those who did would always remember her son this way, and it would undermine him. As wife and mother to a khan, Hoelun knew enough of the minds of men to know the importance of that.

With a vast effort, Genghis struggled up onto his elbows. As if it had waited for exactly that moment, a headache slammed into his skull.

"Bucket," he groaned, leaning over. Hoelun was just fast enough to shove a leather pail under his head as he emptied black liquid from his stomach in a series of painful spasms. The action made his headache almost unbearable, but he could not stop, even when there was nothing more to come out. At last he slumped back on the bed, pressing a hand over his eyes to shut out the dim light that pierced him.

"Drink this, my son," Hoelun said. "You are still weak from the wound."

Genghis glanced at the bowl she held to his lips. The mixture of blood and milk was sour on his tongue as he swallowed twice, then pushed it away. His eyes felt gritty and his heart thumped in his chest, but his thoughts were clearing at last.

"Help me to rise and dress. I cannot lie here, knowing nothing."

To his irritation, Borte pressed him back onto the bed as he tried to rise. He lacked the strength to push her away and considered calling for one of his brothers. It was unpleasant to be so helpless and Kachiun would not ignore his commands.

"I have no memory," he said hoarsely. "Did we catch the man who did this to me?"

The three women exchanged glances. It was his mother who replied.

"He is dead. It has been two days, my son. You were close to death for all that time." Her eyes filled with fresh tears as she spoke, and he could only stare at her in bewilderment. Anger surfaced without warning in his mind. He had been fit and well, then suddenly awoke to find himself in this state. Someone had hurt him: this assassin that they mentioned. Fury seeped into him like smoke as he tried again to rise.

"Kachiun!" he called, but it was just a breath in his throat.

The women fussed around him, laying a cool wet cloth on his brow as he lowered his head onto the blankets, still glaring. He could not remember both of his wives being in the same ger before. He found the idea uncomfortable, as if they would discuss him. He needed…