LITMIR.BIZ

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hear he has gone from the plains. This Eeluk is weak where Yesugei was strong. I will not have my beautiful swords in his hands.’

      ‘I knew it,’ Jelme said. ‘You did not give him your oath, and I guessed. He did not even hear the words you used. The man is a fool, but you know he will not let us go.’

      ‘No, he will not,’ Arslan said. ‘I should have listened to the rumours about the new khan. I should not have brought you into danger.’

      Jelme snorted. ‘Where else would I go, father? My place is at your side.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Shall I challenge him?’

      ‘No!’ Arslan said in a harsh whisper. ‘A man who could leave children on the plains to freeze with their mother? He would have you taken and beheaded without even drawing his own blade. We have made a mistake coming here, but now all we can do is watch for a time to leave. I will build my forge with new bricks of clay and that will take time. I will send you out for wood and herbs, anything to get you away from the camp. Learn the names of the guards and have them become used to you foraging for materials. You can find a place to store what we need and, when the time is right, I will bring the ponies out.’

      ‘He will send guards with us,’ Jelme answered.

      Arslan chuckled. ‘Let him. I have not met a man I cannot kill. We will be gone from here by the end of summer and the forge I will leave them will be useless for anything except scrap iron.’

      Jelme sighed for a moment. It had been a long time since he had seen the inside of a ger and part of him did not relish the thought of returning to hard nights and the bitterness of the winters.

      ‘There are some pretty women here,’ he said.

      His father sat up as he heard the longing in his son’s voice. He did not reply for some time.

      ‘I have not given thought to it, my son. Perhaps I am being foolish. I will not marry again, but if you want to remain and make a place amongst these people, I will stay with you. I cannot drag you behind me for the rest of my life.’

      Jelme reached out in the dark to find his father’s arm.

      ‘I go where you go, you know that. Your vow binds me as much as it does you.’

      Arslan snorted. ‘A vow to the dead binds no one. If Yesugei had lived, or if his children survived, I would go to them with a clear heart. As it is, there is no life for us but here or on the plains with the real wolves. Do not answer me tonight. Sleep and we will talk again in the morning.’

      Eeluk rose at dawn, his head hammering with pain and slick sweat foul on his skin. He had called for more airag after Arslan and Jelme had gone to the ger and at most he had slept for a hand’s-breadth of the stars moving on the sky. He felt terrible, but as he came out of his ger and surveyed the camp, he was startled to see Arslan and his son already awake. The two newcomers were exercising together, their swords drawn as they stretched and moved in what looked like a dance, to Eeluk’s sleepy eyes.

      Already, a few of the bondsmen had gathered around them, some of them laughing and making crude comments. The two men ignored the others as if they did not exist and, for those with an eye to see, the balance and agility they practised revealed a very high level of skill. Arslan was bare-chested and his skin was a patchwork of scarring. Even Eeluk was impressed at the markings, from the white lattice of old cuts on his arms, to knots of burns and arrowheads on his shoulders and chest. The man had fought and, as he spun in the air, Eeluk saw only a few wounds in the paler skin of his back. The pair were impressive, Eeluk admitted reluctantly. Arslan shone with sweat, though he was not breathing heavily. Eeluk watched glowering, trying to recall the conversation of the previous night. He noticed that the bondsmen had fallen silent and he snorted to himself as father and son finished the routine. He did not trust them. As he stood and scratched himself, he saw two of his bondsmen engage Arslan in conversation, clearly asking questions about the exercises they had seen. Eeluk wondered if the newcomers could be spies, or even assassins. The older man, in particular, had the look of a killer and Eeluk knew he would have to force a little obedience, or have his authority questioned in his own camp.

      Despite his misgivings, their arrival was a blessing from the sky father, at a time when he planned a campaign against the Olkhun’ut. The Wolves were growing and he felt the spring tide in his gut and blood, calling him to war. He would need good swords for every young warrior of the families, and perhaps Arslan was the man to produce them. The armourer they had was an old drunk and only his valuable craft prevented him being left out in the snow each winter. Eeluk smiled to himself at the thought that Arslan would make chain mail and blades for the Wolves to grow in strength.

      When Eeluk dreamed, it was always of death. The oldest woman had cast the bones in his ger and prophesied a great blood-letting under his banners. Perhaps Arslan was a messenger from the spirits, as the legends told. Eeluk stretched, feeling his strength as his bones cracked and his muscles tightened deliciously. He had woken his ambition after the death of Yesugei. There was no telling where it would take him.

      It was four days after the arrival of Arslan and his son that Tolui and Basan returned to the gers of the Wolves, dragging a battered figure behind them. Eeluk rode out with the others and he yelled hoarsely when he saw his men had returned with a live captive. He wanted it to be Bekter, but somehow it was sweeter still to see Temujin staring back at him through swollen eyes.

      The journey had been hard on Temujin, but he stood as straight and tall as he could as Eeluk dismounted. He had been dreading the moment ever since they had caught him and, now that it had come, exhaustion and pain made him numb.

      ‘Am I granted guest rights, then?’ he said.

      Eeluk snorted and backhanded a blow across his face that tumbled him to the ground.

      ‘Welcome home, Temujin,’ Eeluk said, showing strong white teeth. ‘I have waited a long time to see you with your belly on the ground.’ As he spoke, he raised his leg and pressed Temujin face-down into the dust. Little by little he increased the pressure, and there was a light in his eye that made the other warriors silent.

      It was Basan who broke the silence. ‘My lord, Unegen is dead. The others escaped.’

      Eeluk seemed to drag himself back from far away to answer, releasing the silent figure under his boot.

      ‘They all survived?’ he said, surprised.

      Basan shook his head. ‘Bekter is dead. I understand the others still live. We found their camp and burned it.’

      Eeluk did not care that Unegen had fallen. The man had been one of the old bondsmen. None of them could truly see Eeluk as khan, he knew. As the years passed, he was slowly leavening their numbers with younger men, hungry for blood and conquest.

      ‘You have done well,’ he said, addressing Tolui and seeing how he swelled his chest with pride. ‘You may have the pick of my own horses and a dozen skins of airag. Get yourself drunk. You have earned a khan’s praise.’

      Tolui was pleased and bowed as low as he could.

      ‘You honour me, my lord,’ he said, stealing a sideways look at Temujin. ‘I would enjoy seeing him humbled.’

      ‘Very well, Tolui. You shall be there. The spirits need blood to feed their hunger. He shall be the stain on the ground that sends us on to victory and greatness. We have a swordsmith come to us. The son of a khan will be our sacrifice. The sky father will bring us sweet women and a thousand tribes under our feet. I can feel it in my blood.’

      Temujin struggled to his knees. His body was raw and aching from the journey and his wrists felt as if they were on fire. He spat on the ground and thought of his father as he looked around him.

      ‘I have known sheep shit with more honour than you,’ he told Eeluk slowly. He tried not to wince as one of the bondsmen approached and used the hilt of his sword to batter him unconscious. It took three blows before he fell, his eyes still open on the dusty ground.

      Temujin woke again with warm water spattering his clothes and face. He gasped and struggled to his feet,

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