Conn Iggulden - Conqueror (2011)

His four generals were close by and he whistled to bring the most senior man to him. Ferikh was a solid officer, with white hair and twenty years of experience under three khans. He trotted through the ranks at the summons, his expression serious.

‘You have new orders, orlok?’ he asked as he came up.

‘Not yet. It feels like a trap, Ferikh.’

The general turned automatically to stare at where Kublai’s tumans had been sighted, racing along a pass between two valleys. The contact had been brief, but just long enough to send Alandar’s scouts pounding back with news. In relays, the news would be stretching out to the blocks in the long sweeping line.

‘You do not have to respond, orlok,’ Ferikh said. Alandar winced slightly to see the disappointment on the older man’s face. ‘The khan can decide when he has brought up the middle tumans.’

‘Which will not happen until dark,’ Alandar said.

Ferikh shrugged. ‘Another day will not make a difference.’

‘You think it’s a trap?’ Alandar asked.

‘Perhaps. A brief sighting of a small group, no more than six or seven thousand. They might want us to go charging in after them and then stage an ambush. It’s what I would do.’

Alandar rose as tall as he could manage in his saddle, looking at the hills all around them.

‘If it’s an ambush, they will have a large force somewhere near, ready to spring out as soon as we move.’

He was in a difficult position and Ferikh appreciated his dilemma. The men expected their officers to show courage and quick thinking. They had heard the news and they waited for the order to ride hard and fast, but Alandar had not spoken. If he fell for some ploy, he would risk the tumans with him and Arik-Boke’s anger. Yet if he came across the tail of Kublai’s army and failed to take the chance, he would look like a fool or a coward. He was caught between impossible choices and so did nothing, letting time make his decision for him.

In the distance, on his left side, his attention snagged on a blur in the air. Alandar turned round to stare and his expression changed slowly as he realised what he was looking at.

‘Tell me I’m right that I can see dust beyond those hills, Ferikh.’

The general squinted. His long sight was not as sharp as it had once been, but he made a tube with his hands and focused down it, an old scout’s trick.

‘Has to be a large force to send up a cloud like that,’ he said. ‘Judging by where we saw the first ones, they’d be in about the right position to hit our flank.’

Alandar breathed out in relief. He would have a victory to report to the khan after all.

‘Then I think we’ll see some fighting today. Send five thousand between the hills after the ones we saw first. Let them think they’ve fooled us. The main tumans can cut through … there.’ He pointed to a break in the green hills that would allow him to swing round and attack the army making the dust rise. ‘Go slowly, general. If it’s Kublai’s main force, we’ll stay out of range, ready to disengage. It will be enough to hold them in place until the khan reaches us.’

Alandar looked east, behind him, where the rest of Arik-Boke’s army would be riding in support. ‘We should have four more tumans coming up soon, then the khan’s own tumans. The last will be here sometime after noon tomorrow. I’ll give new orders as they arrive.’

Ferikh sensed the relief in the orlok at being able to make a decision. He bowed his head briefly, already enjoying the thought of confounding those who had tried to fool the khan’s own army.

Five minghaans pushed forward towards the first valley and then Alandar gave the order for his main tumans to swing round and dash for the break in the hills. They surged into a gallop and the expressions of the warriors were cheerful with anticipation. They had all seen the faint trace of dust by then and they were already imagining the false khan’s confusion as they appeared from a different direction, falling like wolves onto his flank.

Alandar was in the first line that entered the cleft, his tumans thundering behind him. He thought he had seen through whatever ruse Kublai was intending, but he was still aware that Kublai’s entire force outnumbered his. Even so, he could not shake the sense of satisfaction that he could spring a trap on those who sought to fool him. He had not risen to command the khan’s armies by making mistakes. For a moment, he thought of Mongke’s orlok, Seriankh. He had been removed from authority for losing his master and fought somewhere in the ranks. Alandar still thought the man was lucky to have kept his life.

Alandar passed into the shadowed ground, with steepening slopes rising on either side. Somewhere ahead and to the right would be a force of warriors riding to surprise his tumans. He leaned forward in the saddle, his hand dropping to the long sword that slapped against his mount’s flank. The land began to open out and in the sunlight he could see a green valley before him. In the distance, he thought he could hear sounds of battle as his minghaans met and clashed with the false group he had been meant to attack. Bows bent on either side of him as his warriors prepared a crushing volley of shafts. For a time they would ride without reins, using only their knees to guide the ponies at full gallop. Alandar could feel the moment when all four hooves left the ground as a rhythm beneath him. He would not use a bow that day, though he had one strapped to his saddle. He felt the excitement of the men around him, the quick breaths of air that seemed suddenly cold as the hills fell away and his front rank plunged out into the sun. His tumans feared nothing on earth and he led them. It felt glorious as he craned forward for the first glimpse of the enemy.

Surprise and disappointment flashed through Alandar’s tumans as they rounded the foot of the hill and were able to look down the valley stretching to the east. They shouted and pointed to each other as they rode further in, so that thousands of throats made a growling wail that fell away.

There were horses in the valley, thousands of them. It did not take a soldier of Alandar’s experience to see they were not mounted by Mongol warriors. He gaped at the sight of Arab boys whooping and kicking at a milling mass of animals. Each one seemed to have some wide branch tied to its tail, so that it dragged on the dusty ground.

Alandar felt his stomach tighten in fear. If these were the distraction, where were Kublai’s tumans? Almost without thought, he slowed his pace and the tumans matched him, coming down to an easy canter and then a trot. They were nervous at the sight of the trap, knowing they had been drawn in, but not yet seeing the danger.

Alandar jerked round in the saddle as he heard yells and warning horns sound behind. His tumans were still in the cleft between hills, stretched out. Something was happening half a mile behind him and he cursed aloud, yanking the reins savagely to halt. He could hear the sound of bows thrumming at the entrance to the valley, echoing back like the buzzing of bees.

For a moment, he could not think. The valley was too narrow to turn his tumans. The enemy was hitting them and he could not bring his force to bear. He raised his arm and ordered his men forward. If he could bring them all out of the valley, they would be able to manoeuvre once again. The lines surged forward with him, ignoring the boys on their horses as they whooped and jeered. His lines stretched out and Alandar saw movement on his left. He almost cried out in frustration as he realised the position. With a dozen of his personal guard, he pulled his horse out of rank. Behind the knot of men, his tumans kept going, clearing the valley behind as his heart sank.

Mongol warriors were riding at full speed out of the hills there, straight for his flank. Alandar could only roar a warning and even then his men were exposed, under attack from the rear and the side at the same time. He showed his teeth in a grimace, then drew his sword. The enemy had worked him into the spot they wanted, but the games were over and it was time to fight. His generals bellowed orders and the first volleys soared out to meet the flanking force, blurring through the air. It was his one advantage over a flying column, that he could bring more bows to bear on their front rank.