LITMIR.BIZ

      Eeluk sat in a ger twice the size of any other in the camp, on a throne of wood and polished leather. Yesugei had disdained such symbols of power, but Eeluk took comfort from being raised above his bondsmen. Let them remember who was khan! He listened to the crackle of torches and the far-off voices of the tribe. He was drunk again, or close to it, so that his hand blurred as he passed it in front of his eyes. He considered calling for enough airag to smash him into sleep, but instead, he sat in sullen silence, staring at the floor. His bondsmen knew better than to try to raise the spirits of their khan when he was brooding on better days.

      His eagle perched on a wooden tree at his right hand. The hooded bird was a brooding presence that could be as still as bronze for the longest time, then suddenly jerk at a sound, tilting her head as if she could see through the thick leather. The red tinge to her feathers had remained, shimmering when her wings caught the light of torches. Eeluk was proud of her size and power. He had watched her strike a kid goat and struggle into the air with the limp flesh dangling. He had not allowed her more than a single scrap of flesh for the kill, of course, but it had been a glorious moment. He had given Yesugei’s eagle to another family, binding them in gratitude for a khan’s gift. He longed to show the pair to Temujin or Bekter, and almost wished them alive just to experience their anger one more time.

      He remembered the day he had been given the red bird by Yesugei’s own hand. Against his will, sudden tears came to his eyes and he swore aloud and cursed the airag for bringing on his melancholy. He had been younger then and for the young everything is better, cleaner and finer than for those who have let themselves grow thick-bodied and drunk every evening. Yet he was still strong, he knew it. Strong enough to break anyone who dared to test him.

      Eeluk looked blearily around him for Tolui, forgetting for a moment that he had not returned. The Wolves had travelled slowly, drifting further north since Tolui had left with Basan and Unegen. It should have been a simple enough matter to determine whether Yesugei’s children still lived, or at least to find their bones. Eeluk thought back to his first winter as khan and shuddered. It had been bitter even on the trip south. For those in the north, it would have been cruelly hard, on the young and the old alike. Hoelun and her children would not have lasted long, he was almost certain. Yet it nagged at him. What could have delayed Tolui and the other men? The young wrestler was a useful man to have close, Eeluk knew. His loyalty was unquestioning, in comparison with some of the older men. Eeluk knew there were those who still denied his right to lead the tribe, fools who could not accept the new order. He made sure they were watched and, when the time came, they would find men like Tolui outside their gers one dawn. He would take their heads himself, as a khan should. It was never far from his thoughts that he had won the tribe with strength – and only strength could hold it. Disloyalty could grow unchecked until they found the courage to challenge him. Had he not felt the seeds of it long before Yesugei was killed? In his most secret heart, he had.

      When the warning horns sounded, Eeluk lurched to his feet, taking his sword from where it lay propped against the arm of his chair. The red bird screeched, but he ignored it, shaking his head to clear it of fumes as he strode out into the cold air. He could already feel the rush of blood and excitement he relished. He hoped for raiders, or Tolui’s return with the children of the old khan. One or the other would bring blood to his sword, and he never found sleep so sweet and dreamless as when he had killed a man.

      His horse was brought for him and he mounted carefully rather than stumble. He could feel the airag in him, but it just made him stronger. He turned bleary red eyes on his bondsmen as they gathered and then dug in his heels, sending his stallion careering out to meet the threat.

      Eeluk whooped into the cold wind as the riders formed around him in perfect formation. They were Wolves and they were to be feared. He never felt as alive as at that moment, when disloyalties were forgotten and a single enemy had to be faced. That was what he craved, rather than the petty problems and feuds of the families. What did he care about those? His sword and bow were ready for their defence and that was all he had to give them. They could grow and increase their numbers, just as the goats did in their care. Nothing else mattered as long as the warriors rode and he led them.

      At full gallop, Eeluk lowered his sword over the stallion’s ears and called ‘Chuh!’ for more speed, feeling the airag burn out of him. He wished there could be an enemy host coming against them, a battle to test his courage and make him feel again the intoxication of walking close to death. Instead, he saw only two figures on the plain, riding dark brown ponies too heavily laden to be a threat. The disappointment was bitter in his throat, but he quelled it, forcing the cold face. The Wolves would take whatever the two men owned, leaving

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