LITMIR.BIZ

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moved up the centre group with Arslan.

      Temujin rode ahead as the line re-formed, swinging his mount across to the left wing. He allowed them to catch him and Yuan saw his face was flushed with excitement, his eyes bright.

      ‘Send the scouts on ahead, Yuan,’ Temujin called. ‘We will rest the ponies while they search.’

      ‘Your will, my lord,’ Yuan replied automatically. He caught himself as he turned in the saddle to two young warriors, then shrugged. He had been a soldier too long to change his habits and, in truth, he was enjoying the task of shaping the tribesmen into a battle group.

      ‘Tayan, Rulakh, move ahead until sunset. If you see anything more than a few wanderers, ride back.’ By now, he knew all sixty names, forcing them to memory, a matter of personal habit. Both of the men were from Temujin’s raiders. They bowed their heads as they passed him, kicking their mounts forward. Yuan showed nothing of his hidden satisfaction, though Temujin seemed to sense it from the grin that came to his face.

      ‘I think you have missed this, teacher,’ Temujin called. ‘The spring is rising in your blood.’

      Yuan did not respond as Temujin rejoined the line. He had been two years with Wen Chao on guard duty. The oath he had given to the emperor bound him to follow any order given by a lawful authority. In his deepest heart, he acknowledged the truth of Temujin’s words. He had missed the comradeship of a campaign, though the tribesmen were nothing like the men he had known. He hoped the brothers would live past the first clash of arms.

      The moon was full again a month out from the Kerait. The exuberance of the first weeks had been replaced by a grim purpose. There was not so much chatter round the fires as there had been and the scouts were on edge. They had found the site where Temujin and his brothers had seen the large group of Tartars. The blackened circles of grass brought back dark memories for the men who had been there. Kachiun and Khasar were particularly quiet as they remounted. The night they had rescued Borte had been burnt into them, too deep to forget Temujin’s chant, or the burst of light they had felt as they swallowed the flesh of their enemies. They did not speak of what they had done. That night had seemed endless, but when the dawn had finally come, they had scouted the area, trying to see where the small group had been taking her. The main Tartar camp had not been far away. The last of the raiders could have reached it in a morning’s ride and Borte would have been lost for months, if not for ever.

      Temujin pressed his hand into the ashes of a fire and grimaced. It was cold.

      ‘Send the scouts out wider,’ he said to his brothers. ‘If we catch them on the move, it will be quick.’

      The Tartar camp had come prepared for a season, perhaps with the intention of hunting the raiders who had troubled them all winter. They moved with carts laden with gers and large herds whose droppings could be read and counted. Temujin wondered how close they were. He remembered his frustration as he lay with Tartar blood on his mouth and watched a peaceful camp too large to attack. There was no question of letting them escape. He had gone to Togrul as one having no other choice.

      ‘There were many people in this place,’ Yuan noted at his shoulder. The Chin warrior had counted the black circles and noted the tracks. ‘More than the hundred you told Togrul.’

      Temujin looked at him. ‘Perhaps. I could not say for sure.’

      Yuan watched the man who had brought them to kill across a wilderness. It occurred to him that fifty of Togrul’s best men would have been better than thirty. The newcomers would have outnumbered Temujin’s people, and perhaps that was not to the young man’s liking. Yuan had noticed how Temujin had mixed the groups, making them work together. His reputation for ferocity was known – and for success. Already, they looked on him as a khan. Yuan wondered if Togrul knew the risk he had taken. He sighed to himself as Temujin moved away to talk with his brothers. Gold and land would buy great risks, if used well. Wen Chao had shown the truth of that.

      Temujin nodded to his brothers, including Temuge in the gesture. His youngest brother had been given the smallest set of armour. Wen Chao’s men were given to lightness of frame, but it was still too big for him, and Temujin repressed a smile as he saw Temuge turn stiffly to his pony, testing the straps and reins.

      ‘You have done well, little brother,’ Temujin said as he passed him. He heard Khasar snort nearby, but ignored it. ‘We will find them soon, Temuge. Will you be ready when we ride to the attack?’

      Temuge looked up at the brother he revered. He did not speak of the cold fear in his stomach, nor of the way the riding had exhausted him until he thought he would drop from the saddle and shame them all. Every time he dismounted, his legs had stiffened to the point where he had to hold the pony tightly or drop to his knees.

      ‘I will be ready, Temujin,’ he said, forcing a cheerful tone. Inside, he despaired. He knew his own archery was barely worth the name and the Tartar sword Temujin had given him was too heavy for his hand. He had a smaller blade hidden inside his deel and he hoped to use that. Even then, the thought of actually cutting skin and muscle, of feeling blood pour over his hands, was something he dreaded. He could not be as strong and ruthless as the others. He did not yet know what use he could be to any of them, but he could not bear the scorn in Khasar’s eyes. Kachiun had come to him the night before they left, saying that Borte and Hoelun would need support in the camp of the Kerait. It had been a transparent attempt to let him out of the fighting to come, but Temuge had refused it. If they needed help at all, fifty warriors could not save them in the heart of the Kerait. Their presence was a surety that Temujin would return with the heads he had promised.

      Of all the brothers, only Temuge had not been made an officer. With Jelme, Arslan and Yuan as well as his brothers, Temujin had the six he needed and Temuge knew he was still too young, too inexperienced in war. He touched the blade of his long knife as he mounted, feeling its sharpness. He dreamed of saving their lives, over and over, so that they would look at him with astonishment and realise he was truly Yesugei’s son. He did not like to wake from those dreams. He shivered as they rode out once again, feeling the cold more than the other men seemed to. He looked inside himself for the easy courage they displayed and found nothing but terror.

      The scouts found the main force of the Tartars only two days after Temujin had visited the old camp. The men rode in at full gallop, leaping from their horses to report to Temujin.

      ‘They are moving, my lord,’ the first blurted out. ‘They have outriders in all directions, but the army is moving slowly through the next valley, coming this way.’

      Temujin showed his teeth.

      ‘They sent out thirty men to find us and not a single one made it back alive. They must suspect a large tribe is in the area. Good. If they are cautious, they will hesitate.’

      He raised his arm to bring his officers in close. They had all watched the excited actions of the scouts and they came in fast, expecting the news.

      ‘Tell your men to follow their orders,’ Temujin said as he mounted. ‘We ride as one, taking your speed from me. If any man breaks formation, I will leave him for the hawks.’

      He saw Khasar grinning and glowered at him.

      ‘Even if he is my own brother, Khasar, even then. Loose your arrows on my call, then draw swords. We will hit them as one line. If you are unhorsed, stay alive long enough for the rest of us to finish the killing.’

      ‘You will not take prisoners?’ Arslan asked.

      Temujin did not hesitate. ‘If any survive our attack, I will question their leaders to learn more. After that I have no use for them. I will not swell our ranks with blood enemies.’

      The word spread quickly through the warriors as their officers returned to them. They walked their ponies forward in a single rank. As they passed a ridge, each man could see the Tartar formation, with riders and carts moving slowly across the plain.

      As one, they began to trot towards the enemy. Temujin heard distant alarm horns sound and he untied his bow, fitting a string and testing it. He reached back to open the quiver strapped to his saddle, raising

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