Conn Iggulden - Conqueror (2011)

Xuan turned to the incredulous smiles on the faces of his men. His son could only stare and shake his head in amazement.

‘None of us thought today would end like this,’ Xuan said. ‘We will grow strong in the months to come. We will eat well and train again with sword, pike and bow. It will be hard. None of us are young men any longer. When we are ready, we will leave this place for the last time. It does not matter whether we ride against the Mongols. It does not matter if we ride into hell. What matters … is that we will leave .’

His voice broke as he said the last words and they cheered him, their voices growing stronger and louder until they echoed across the parade ground and the barracks beyond.

In the gers of the camp healers, Kublai sat in grim silence as the wound on his arm was bandaged by a harried shaman. The man’s hands were deft and practised, working by instinct. Kublai grimaced in pain as the shaman tied off the knot and bowed briefly before moving on. General Bayar was just two cots down, wearing the cold face of indifference as another shaman worked to sew a gash on his leg that slowly dripped dark red blood.

Yao Shu approached, bearing a sheaf of paper with hastily scrawled figures.

‘Where are the Sung guns?’ Kublai asked Bayar suddenly. He did not want to hear the numbers of maimed and dead from Yao Shu, not then. He was still shaking slightly from his own fight on the hill, a quivering deep inside him that had lasted far longer than the swift struggle itself. Bayar stood to answer him, flexed his leg with a wince.

‘We found them still being brought up, my lord, a mile or so back. I have our own men looking them over.’

‘How many cannon?’

‘Only forty, but enough powder and balls for a dozen shots each. Smaller shot than the ones we had.’

‘Then abandon our own. Have oil wiped over them and cover them with oiled linen, but leave them where they are until we have a respite or we make more shot and powder.’

Bayar looked wearily at him. They had received news of two more armies approaching the area, marching hard and fast to support the ones that had gone before. Their only chance was to ride to the first and smash it before they faced a battle on two fronts.

‘Have you retrieved the arrows?’ Kublai asked.

Bayar was swaying as he stood, utterly exhausted. Kublai saw him summon his will to answer, a visible effort that reduced him to awe.

‘I have a minghaan out among the dead, collecting any that can be re-used. We’ll get perhaps half of them back. I’ll have more sent to the camp to be repaired. They’ll bring them up to us when the work is done.’

‘Send them with the wounded men who can’t fight,’ Kublai said. ‘And check the stocks in the camp. I need the fletchers working day and night. We can’t run out.’ He clenched his fist and looked at Yao Shu, waiting patiently. ‘All right. How many men have we lost?’

The old man did not need to consult his lists for the total.

‘Nine thousand and some hundreds. Six thousand of those dead and the rest too badly cut to go on. The shamans say we’ll lose another thousand by morning, more over the next week.’

Bayar swore under his breath and Kublai shuddered, his arm throbbing in time with his pulse. A tenth of his force had gone. He was sore and tired, but he knew the dawn would bring another fight against fresher soldiers. He could only hope the long march had taken the edge off the Sung troops.

‘Tell the men to eat and sleep as best they can. I need them ready before dawn for whatever comes. Send Uriang-Khadai to me.’

‘Lord, you have been wounded. You should rest.’

‘I will, when I am certain the scouts are all out and the wounded are being taken back to the main camp. It will be a cold meal tonight.’

Bayar bit his lip, then decided to speak again.

‘You need to be alert for tomorrow, my lord. Uriang-Khadai and I have everything else in hand. Please rest.’

Kublai stared at him. Though his body ached and his legs felt weak with weariness, he could not imagine sleeping. There was too much to do.

‘I’ll try,’ he promised. ‘When I have spoken to the orlok.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ Bayar said.

A scout came through the camp, searching the wounded and those tending them. Kublai saw him first and his heart sank. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye, seeing him ask someone who pointed in Kublai’s direction. As the scout came up, Kublai glared at him.

‘What is it?’

‘A third army, my lord. Coming from the east.’

‘Are you sure this isn’t the same report I had before?’ Kublai demanded. The man paled to see him angry and Kublai tried to get a hold of himself.

‘No, my lord. They have been marked. This is a new one, around sixty thousand strong.’

‘The wasp nest,’ Bayar murmured at Kublai’s side. He nodded.

Kublai wanted to ride again immediately, but Uriang-Khadai came to him as he was spooning a bowl of cold stew into his mouth and chewing, his eyes glazed.

The orlok had a strange expression on his face as he stood before Kublai. In less than a week, they had survived two major battles, each time outnumbered. Uriang-Khadai had expected the younger man to falter a hundred times, but he had always been there, giving calm orders, shoring up a failing line, sending in reinforcements as necessary. The orlok saw exhaustion in the khan’s brother, but he had not broken under the strain, at least not yet.

‘My lord, the third army is smaller and won’t be in range until tomorrow or the day after. If we ride towards them now, we can rest before the battle. The men will be fresher and if we have to fight twice tomorrow, they have a better chance of living through it.’

Uriang-Khadai was tense as he waited for an answer. He had grown used to the younger man ignoring his advice, but out of a sense of duty, he still gave it. He was ready to be rebuffed.

‘All right,’ Kublai said, surprising him. ‘We’ll ride east and break contact with the large force.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ Uriang-Khadai said, almost stammering his answer. It did not seem enough. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

Kublai put down the empty bowl and rubbed his face with both hands. Apart from being unconscious for a time, he could not remember when he had last slept. He felt dizzy and ill.

‘I may not always listen, orlok. But you have more experience than me. I don’t forget that. We’ll move the main camp out of their range as well. I need to find a safe place for them, a forest or a valley where they can rest. We have to keep moving and they can’t match our pace.’

Uriang-Khadai murmured a response and unbent enough to bow. He wanted to say something to raise the spirits of the young man who sat with his legs sprawled, too tired to move. Nothing came to mind and he bowed again as he withdrew.

Bayar had seen the exchange and strolled over, his mouth quirking as he watched Uriang-Khadai begin to issue the new orders.

‘He likes you, you know,’ Bayar said.

‘He thinks I am a fool,’ Kublai said without thinking, then chewed his lips irritably. Tiredness made it hard to keep his mouth shut. He had to lead without any show of weakness, not invite confidences.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ Bayar replied. He nodded to himself, still watching Uriang-Khadai. ‘Did you see him this morning when the Sung overran the wing? He didn’t panic, just pulled back, re-formed the men and shored up his position. It was good work.’

Kublai wished Bayar would stop talking. The last thing he wanted was to invite one officer to comment on another.

‘He isn’t a natural leader, Uriang-Khadai,’ Bayar said.

Kublai closed his eyes with a sigh, seeing green lights flash across the darkness.