LITMIR.BIZ

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‘It is behind. For now, I will say you do not know me, but you will learn my word is iron.’

      Temujin snapped a glance at the man, looking for mockery. Instead, he found only stern control.

      ‘Your father used to say that, yes,’ Arslan went on. ‘It drew me to him and I believed it. If you are half the man he was, my son and I will take oath to you and bind ourselves in honour to your line.’

      Temujin stared back at the man, sensing the quiet strength in him. He carried no weapons, but the mare had taken three steps away from Arslan while they talked, aware like her rider of a predator under rigid control. He wondered if Arslan thought there was a host of warriors waiting for Temujin’s return. The thought occurred to him that a man who weighed himself by his word might remain bound even when he discovered there was nothing but a few scrawny brothers hiding in the hills. The temptation was there, but Temujin ignored it, unable to play false with one who had saved his life.

      ‘I have no tribe, nor wealth, nor anything but my own family in hiding,’ Temujin said. ‘I have nothing to offer you, or your son. If you choose to ride on, I will make my own way back to them and still bless you for your help.’

      ‘You said you were the land and the bones of the hills,’ Arslan said softly. ‘I believe you were speaking with the words of your father. I will follow you.’

      ‘Call your son to me, then,’ Temujin said, suddenly exasperated. He did not want to begin to hope, but he had been changed in his captivity. He could no longer be satisfied with mere survival. He looked down at Arslan and he imagined a trail of fire and blood across the tribes that would end in the gers of the Wolves. He had seen it in the darkest days in the pit. While the flies had buzzed around him, his imagination had been in flames.

      As Jelme approached, Temujin dismounted and hobbled to the two men.

      ‘If you will call me khan, your will is no longer yours,’ he said, remembering his father speaking the same words. ‘Kneel to me.’

      Both Jelme and his father went down on one knee and Temujin pressed his damaged hands on their heads.

      ‘I ask you for salt, milk, horses, gers and blood.’

      ‘They are yours, my khan,’ both men said together.

      ‘Then you are kin and we are of one tribe,’ Temujin said, surprising them. ‘I call you brothers and we are one people.’

      Both Arslan and Jelme raised their heads, struck by his tone and everything it meant. The wind picked up, rushing down from the mountains. Temujin turned his head in the direction of where his family would be hiding. He knew he could find his tribe among men scorned by all the others, among the wanderers and the herdsmen. Men like old Horghuz and his family, killed by Tolui. They were few, but they were hardened in fire. They had been cast out and many would hunger as he did: for a tribe, and for a chance to strike back at a world that had abandoned them.

      ‘It is begun here,’ Temujin whispered. ‘I have had enough of hiding. Let them hide from me.’

      When Kachiun saw the three men riding south, he did not know who they were. He took careful note of their path and slipped back into the cleft in the hills with his bow and quiver ready. He knew the lie of the land better than anyone and he raced down the inner slopes, leaping over fallen trees and old wood until he was panting.

      He took his position close to where they would pass, well hidden in the undergrowth. There was murder in his heart as he prepared himself. If Tolui and Basan had returned with their captive, Kachiun would risk two long shots and trust his skill. He had trained for it and neither Khasar nor Temujin were his master with the bow. He waited in silence for the clop of hooves, ready to kill.

      When they came into sight, Kachiun’s heart pounded with excitement as he recognised his brother. Just seeing Temujin alive lifted his spirits from where they had sunk in the days alone. He pressed his lips tight and only then realised he had been murmuring his brother’s name aloud. He had been too long on his own, he admitted to himself as he sighted down the arrow at the older of the pair riding with Temujin.

      Kachiun hesitated, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the three men. Temujin sat tall in the saddle and there was no sign of ropes or a rein tied to the other men. Would they trust a captive not to gallop away at the slightest chance for freedom? Something was wrong, and he adjusted his grip on the drawn bow, the powerful muscles of his shoulders beginning to quiver. He would not let them past – he could not – but if he fired a shot in warning, he would have lost his chance to kill them swiftly. Both men were armed with bows, though he saw they were unstrung. They did not ride like men in hostile territory. Kachiun saw they carried long swords like the one Yesugei had worn on his hip. Nothing about them made sense, and while he hesitated, they had drawn level with his position in the trees.

      He risked it all.

      ‘Temujin!’ Kachiun roared, rising from his crouch and pulling the bowstring back to his ear.

      Temujin saw the figure out of the corner of his eye.

      ‘Hold! Hold, Kachiun!’ he shouted, raising his arms and waving.

      Kachiun saw the two strangers vanish from sight in the instant of his warning, as fast as cats. Both dropped on the far side of their ponies, using the animals to shield them from attack. Kachiun breathed in relief as Temujin nodded to him, leaning over to dismount with a terrible awkwardness.

      Kachiun’s heart thumped at the sight. The Wolves had hurt his brother, but he was here and he was safe. Temujin limped visibly as they ran together and Kachiun embraced him, overcome. It would be all right.

      ‘I did not know if they were friends or enemies,’ Kachiun said breathlessly.

      Temujin nodded, steadying him with a clasp around the back of his neck.

      ‘Bondsmen, brother,’ Temujin said. ‘Arslan and Jelme, who brought me out of my captivity. They have come to us from our father’s spirit.’

      Kachiun turned to the two men as they approached.

      ‘Then you are always welcome in my camp,’ he said. ‘I have a couple of ducks to feed you if you are hungry. I want to hear the tale.’

      Temujin nodded and Kachiun realised he had not smiled since he had first caught sight of him. His brother had changed in his time away, grown darker somehow under the weight of his experiences.

      ‘We’ll stay the night here,’ Temujin confirmed. ‘But where is my mother and the others?’

      ‘They have ridden west. I stayed alone in case you could make it back. I … was almost ready to leave. I had lost hope of seeing you again.’

      Temujin snorted. ‘Never lose faith in me, little brother. My word is iron and I will always come home.’

      To his astonishment, Kachiun found there were tears in his eyes. He blinked them away, embarrassed in front of the strangers. He had been too long alone and had lost his cold face completely. He struggled to bring his soaring emotions back under control.

      ‘Come. I will make a fire and cook the meat,’ he said.

      Temujin nodded. ‘As you say. We have ground to cover at first light. I want to catch up with our mother.’

      The three men followed Kachiun back to his camp, a damp place barely worthy of the name, with a litter of old bones around a small firepit. Kachiun set about starting a flame, his hands clumsy as he knelt over old ashes.

      ‘There is a wanderer family half a day’s ride to the west,’ he said as he worked the flint and steel. ‘Three men and two women. They came past here yesterday evening.’ He saw Temujin look up with interest and misunderstood the light in his eye.

      ‘We can avoid them if we take a line directly south before cutting through the black hills,’ he said, grunting in satisfaction as the flame licked up around his tinder.

      Temujin stared at the little fire.

      ‘I do not want

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