Wolf of the Plains

‘Mark the spot somehow, so you can find it again in the light. He won’t thank you for losing his father’s blade.’

Bekter turned without thinking to another one of his father’s bondsmen, standing nearby in shock at what he was witnessing.

‘You will stay, Unegen. I must return to the gers with my father. Search in circles as soon as you can see, and bring the blade to me when you find it.’

‘I will do as you say,’ Unegen replied in the darkness.

Bekter moved to his pony to mount and did not see Eeluk’s expression as he considered the exchange. The world was changing in those moments and Eeluk did not know what the day would bring for any of them.

Hoelun wiped tears from her eyes as she faced her husband’s bondsmen. The men and women of the Wolves had come, hungry for news, as soon as word spread of the khan’s injury. She wished she had something more to tell them, but Yesugei had not woken again and he lay inside the ger in the cool shadows, his skin burning. Not one of them had stirred from their watch as the day wore on and the sun rose high above their heads.

‘He still lives,’ she said. ‘I have cleaned his wound, but he has not yet woken.’

Eeluk nodded and she could not miss how the other warriors looked to him. Kachiun and Temuge were there with Khasar, standing shocked and pale after seeing their father helpless. Yesugei seemed smaller under the blankets, his weakness frightening his sons more than anything they had ever known. He had been such a force in their lives, it did not seem possible that he might never wake. She feared for them all, though she did not mention it aloud. Without Yesugei to protect them, she saw the glint of greed in the eyes of the other men. Eeluk in particular seemed to be hiding a smile when he spoke to her, though his words were deliberately courteous.

‘I will tell you if he wakes,’ she told the warriors, ducking back into the ger, away from their cold interest. Her daughter, Temulun, was in the cradle there, crying to be changed. The sound seemed to match the screaming voice inside her that she barely held in check. She could not give way to it, not while her sons needed her.

Temuge had come with her into the ger, his small mouth quivering in grief. Hoelun gathered him into her arms and shushed his tears, though her own started just as strongly. They wept together at Yesugei’s side and she knew the khan could not hear them.

‘What will happen if he does not live?’ Temuge asked.

She might have answered, but the door creaked open and Eeluk entered. Hoelun felt a grip of hot anger to have been seen at such a moment and she wiped fiercely at her eyes.

‘I have sent your other sons to the herds for the day, to keep their minds off their father,’ Eeluk said.

It may have been her imagination, but again she thought she saw a gleam of satisfaction as he looked at Yesugei’s still form, quickly masked.

‘You have been strong when the tribe needed it, Eeluk,’ she said. ‘My husband will thank you himself when he wakes.’

Eeluk nodded as if he had barely heard, crossing the ger to where Yesugei lay. He reached down to press his hand against the khan’s forehead, whistling softly at the heat there. He sniffed at the wound and she knew he could smell the corruption that tainted the flesh.

‘I poured boiling spirits into the wound,’ Hoelun said. ‘I have herbs to ease the fever.’ She felt she had to speak, just to break the silence. Eeluk seemed to have changed in subtle ways since Yesugei had come back. He walked with a little more of a swagger with the men and his eyes challenged her whenever she spoke. She felt the need to mention Yesugei every time they talked, as if his name would keep him in the world. The alternative was too frightening to consider and she did not dare look to the future. Yesugei had to live.

‘My family has been bound to his from birth,’ Eeluk said softly. ‘I have always been loyal.’

‘He knows it, Eeluk. I’m sure he can hear you now and he knows you are first among his men.’

‘Unless he dies,’ Eeluk said softly, turning to her. ‘If he dies, my vows are ended.’

Hoelun looked at him in sick horror. While the words remained unsaid, the world could go on and she could hold back the fear. She dreaded him speaking again for what he might dare to say.

‘He will survive this, Eeluk,’ she said. Her voice quavered, betraying her. ‘The fever will pass and he will know you remained loyal to him when it mattered most.’

Something seemed to break through to her husband’s bondsman and he shook himself, the guarded look in his eyes disappearing.

‘Yes. It is too early still,’ he said, looking down at Yesugei’s pale face and chest. The bandages were stained with dark blood and he touched them, coming away with a red smear on his fingers. ‘Still, I have a loyalty to the families. They must be kept strong. I must think of the Wolves, and the days to come,’ he said, as if to himself.

Hoelun could hardly draw breath as the certainties of her life came crashing down. She thought of her sons and couldn’t bear the calculating expression on Eeluk’s face. They were innocent and they would suffer.

Eeluk left without another word, as if the courtesies no longer mattered to him. Perhaps they did not. She had seen the naked desire for power in his face and there was no taking it back. Even if Yesugei sprang healed from the bed, she did not think things would be the same again, now that Eeluk had woken his heart.

She heard Temuge sob and opened her arms to him once more, taking comfort from his desperate clasp. Her daughter cried in the cot, untended.

‘What will happen to us?’ the little boy sobbed.

Hoelun shook her head as she cradled him. She did not know.

Bekter saw the warrior he had left to look for his father’s sword. The man was walking quickly through the gers with his head down in thought. Bekter hailed him, but he did not seem to hear and hurried on. Frowning, Bekter ran after him and took him by the elbow.

‘Why have you not come to me, Unegen?’ he demanded. ‘Did you find my father’s sword?’ He saw Unegen’s eyes flicker over his shoulder, and when he turned, Eeluk was there, watching them.

Unegen could not meet his gaze as he looked back.

‘No, no, I did not find it. I am sorry,’ Unegen said, pulling his sleeve away and walking on.

CHAPTER NINE (#u15ab7801-f82a-532f-8adb-eb524d7e5f35)

Under white starlight, Temujin peered through the long grass. It had been simple enough to walk away from Sholoi’s ger, his urine still steaming behind him. Sholoi’s wife and daughter slept soundly and the old man had staggered out to relieve his bladder only a short while before. Temujin knew he had only a little time before they noticed his absence, but he had not dared go near the horse pens. The Olkhun’ut guarded their mounts, and even if they hadn’t, finding his own white-footed pony in the dark amongst all the others would have been almost impossible. It did not matter. His prey was afoot.

The plains were silver as Temujin moved gently through the grass, careful not to kick a stone that might alert the older boy ahead. He did not know where Koke was going. He did not care. When he had seen a figure moving through the gers, he had watched closely, standing completely still. After seven days among the Olkhun’ut, he knew Koke’s swagger well. At the moment of recognition, Temujin had slipped silently after him, his senses heightening for the hunt. He had not planned his revenge for that night, but he knew better than to lose a perfect chance. The world was asleep and, in the pale gloom, only two figures moved on the sea of grass.

Temujin watched the older boy with intense concentration. He loped along on light feet, ready to fall into a crouch if Koke sensed him. In the moonlight, he fancied for a while that he was following a ghost, lured out to where the darker spirits would steal the life from him. His father had told stories of tribesmen found frozen to death, their eyes fixed on some distant horror as the winter reached in and stopped their hearts. Temujin shivered at the memory. The night was cold, but he drew warmth from his anger. He had nursed it and sheltered it through the hard days with the tribe, through insults and blows. His hands ached to hold a knife, but he thought he was strong enough to beat Koke with his bare hands. Though his heart thudded, he felt exhilaration and fear together. This was being alive, he told himself as he followed. There was power in being the hunter.

Koke did not wander aimlessly. Temujin saw him make for a solid shadow at the foot of a hill. Whatever watchers the Olkhun’ut had posted would be looking outwards for enemies. They would not see either boy in that deeper dark, though Temujin worried he would lose his prey. He broke into a trot as Koke crossed the black line and seemed to vanish. Temujin’s breath came a little faster in his throat, but he moved with care as he had been taught, allowing no more sound than the pad of his soft boots. Just before he crossed the shadow boundary himself, he saw a pile of loose stones by the path, a cairn to the spirits. Without a thought, he stopped and picked up one the size of his fist, hefting it with grim pleasure.

Temujin blinked as he passed into complete darkness, squinting for some sign of Koke. It would not do to stumble across him, or worse, some group of Olkhun’ut boys out with a skin of stolen black airag. Even more disturbing was the thought that Koke was luring him deliberately to another beating. Temujin shook his head to clear it. His path was set and he would not turn from it now.

He heard low voices ahead and froze, straining to see the source. With the mountain blocking the moon, he was almost blind, and sweat broke out on his skin as each careful step brought him closer. He could hear Koke’s low laugh and then another voice responded, lighter in tone. Temujin smiled to himself. Koke had found himself a girl willing to risk the anger of her parents. Perhaps they would be rutting and he could catch them unawares. He mastered the desire to stride in and attack, deciding to wait until Koke took the path back to the encampment. Battles could be won with stealth as well as speed and strength, he knew. He could not tell exactly where the couple lay, but they were close enough for him to hear Koke begin to grunt rhythmically. Temujin grinned at the sound, leaning back against a rock and waiting patiently to strike.

It did not take long. The moon shadow had moved a hand’s breadth, lengthening the dark bar at the foot of the hill as Temujin heard the sounds of talking once more, followed by the girl’s low laugh. He wondered which of the young women had come out into the darkness, and found himself imagining the faces of those he had come to know during the felting. One or two were agile and brown from the sun. He had found them strangely unsettling when they looked at him, though he supposed it was only what all men felt for a pretty woman. It was a shame he couldn’t feel it for Borte, who seemed only irritated in his presence. If she had been long-limbed and supple, he might have found some small pleasure in his father’s choice.

Temujin heard footsteps and held his breath. Someone was coming along the path and he pressed himself against the rock, willing them not to sense him. He knew too late that he should have hidden himself in the long grass. If they came together, he would have to attack them both or let them pass. His lungs began to pound and he could feel his pulse like a great drum in his ears. The breath seemed to expand inside him as his body cried out for air and the unseen figure came closer.

Temujin watched in excruciating discomfort as the walker passed within a few feet of him. He was almost certain it could not be Koke. The steps were too light and he sensed that the shadow was not large enough to be his enemy. His heart hammered as the girl passed and he was able to release his breath slowly. For a moment, he felt dizzy with the exertion and then he turned to where he knew Koke would come, stepping out into the path to wait for him.

He heard more steps and let the older boy come close before he spoke, relishing the shock his voice would cause.

‘Koke!’ Temujin whispered.

The moving shadow jumped in terror.

‘Who is it?’ Koke hissed, his voice breaking in fear and guilt.

Temujin did not let him recover and swung the fist with the stone. It was a poor blow in the dark, but it made Koke stagger. Temujin felt an impact, perhaps an elbow into his stomach, and then he was punching in a wild fury, released at last. He could not see his enemy, but the blindness gave him power as his fists and feet connected again and again in a flurry until Koke fell and Temujin knelt on his chest.

He had lost the stone in the silent struggle and scrabbled for it while he held the dark figure down. Koke tried to call for help, but Temujin hit him twice in the face, then resumed his search for the stone. His fingers found it and curled around. He felt his anger surge as he lifted it, ready to smash the life out of his tormentor.

‘Temujin!’ a voice said out of the darkness.