Horselords (33 page)

It was late in the afternoon of that sixth day when Koja saw the khahan’s banner finally reach the top of the First Pass Under Heaven. The yurtchis responsible for the day’s march met the khahan there and, after presenting themselves, explained what their scouts found. Koja was too far away to hear them, but his eyes followed their sweeping gestures as they pointed down toward the plain that spread out from the base of the mountains.

From the top of the still snow-covered pass, the plain appeared to be nothing but a smooth expanse of green and brown, broken only occasionally by the darker cuts of gullies and streams. From so far away, in this realm of rock and ice, it looked like a promised land, though it was nothing but grassland, sparsely dotted with stands of trees. In the distance, the smooth ground gave way to rugged terrain. The horizon rose and fell several times, hinting at the chance of more mountains somewhere beyond.

The dark line of what seemed to be a ravine crookedly traversed the scene far out on the plain; the yurtchis were pointing at it with some excitement. Studying it closely, Koja realized that it was the shadow of the Dragonwall. Fascinated, Koja traced it with his finger. The wall rose, fell, twisted, curved, and disappeared from sight, only to reappear farther away.

This is what Yamun proposes to attack with men alone, the priest thought sadly. He was suddenly certain that the task was hopeless, whether Yamun had fifty thousand or five hundred thousand warriors. The khahan had no heavy equipment—towers, catapults, and rams—needed for a siege. He had no way to break the masonry wall. Whatever protective magic the wall might possess only made matters worse.

The shouted commands of the Kashik officers roused Koja out of his reverie as the horde started moving again. Carefully, the priest picked his way down the darkening eastern slope toward the campsites chosen by the yurtchis, leaving behind the First Pass Under Heaven.

*

Chanar was not sleeping well. For the past several nights there had been dreams, dreams he couldn’t remember but knew were somehow disturbing. Another had just passed, so forceful that he tossed and turned, nearly awake.

Just then, the door flap to his yurt, which wasn’t really his, opened by itself. The slight motion was enough to bring him to consciousness. The general’s hand darted to his sword, carefully laid beside his bed. Glaring through the open door, he could not see any sign of an intruder. Just as he was about to rise and investigate, the flap closed, again by itself. There was a quick shimmer and suddenly Bayalun, dressed in a dark fur cloak, was kneeling by the doorway, fastening down the ties. She quickly looked up and pressed her fingers to her lips, silencing Chanar before he could even react to her sudden appearance.

“Quiet,” Bayalun quickly whispered, crossing to his side. “Prepare to leave.”

Chanar looked at her and blinked as his sleep-choked mind tried to sort out what was happening. Clumsily he groped for her, thinking she came to join him at his bed. Fiercely Bayalun pushed aside his advances and jabbed him in the side with her staff. “Get up!” she hissed sharply, clearly not in the mood for romance.

Startled as much by the pain as the widow’s ferocity, Chanar sat straight up, ruefully rubbing his side. Awake, the general looked at the khadun, his eyes clearer and his mind starting to function. “What’s going on?”

“We must go somewhere, tonight—now,” she said with passionate urgency. “Get your robes on.”

“Are we under attack? What’s going on?” Chanar demanded, making no effort to keep quiet as he scrambled out from under the blankets.

“Quiet!” she ordered. “We must go to a meeting, you and I. A meeting with the Shou.” Bayalun walked to the tent door, preparing to leave.

Chanar pulled on his trousers and boots, feeling an unaccountable sense of dread. “Where?” he asked.

“Just come with me.” The woman didn’t wait to explain more, but stooped to undo the door fastenings. Chanar hastily pulled on his mail shirt and grabbed the sword and belt nearby, buckling them on as Bayalun peeked out through the opening. “Keep quiet,” she instructed. “We don’t want the guards to see us leave.”

Chanar shrugged, trying to get his armor to settle into place. “Why don’t you cast a spell like you did when you came?”

“Too risky. You do not know how to move invisibly. You’ll trip over your own feet. That will certainly attract attention.”

Chanar started to rebuke Bayalun, but she slipped out through the door before he could get a word out. Angrily clapping his mouth shut, Chanar followed her into the camp.

The moon was waning, casting a faint light over the camp. With the brilliance of Anjar dimmed, the sparkling points of the Nine Old Men, the stars that trailed behind the moon, showed brightly. Chanar and Bayalun carefully picked their way through the small cluster of tents in the royal compound. They stopped short once, narrowly avoiding the notice of a Kashik guard who was relieving himself just beyond the confines of the khahan’s ground.

Once outside Yamun’s camp, the two moved much more quickly. Hosts of men lay stretched out on the ground, wrapped in thick blankets, sound asleep. Horses on long tethers wandered among the dozing soldiers. A few men hastened to and fro, since the business of the camp never really stopped. Picking their way past the clumps of sleeping men, the conspirators took an hour to reach the edge of the camp, but no sentry challenged them along the way.

Bayalun softly released a sigh of tension, thankful for avoiding discovery. “Quickly. This way,” she whispered, pulling Chanar toward a ravine that cut across a nearby slope. Bayalun set off at a brisk pace, adroitly avoiding stones and clumps Chanar could barely see. Behind her, Chanar cursed under his breath as he stumbled to keep up.

Bayalun was even more surprised than Chanar when a shadowy shape rose in front of them. At first she thought it was a Shou soldier sent to escort them. Then the figure spoke. “Stop!” the shape commanded, speaking perfect Tuigan.

Bayalun jolted to a halt, Chanar almost crashing into her.

“A sentry!” she hissed under her breath. “Quickly, speak to him.” She pulled Chanar ahead of her.

“I’m Chanar Khan. Do you challenge me?” the general demanded. “Advance and name yourself.” Behind the general, Bayalun slipped off to the left, disappearing into the darkness.

The sentry came forward cautiously, his sword drawn, until he was close enough to recognize Chanar’s clothes. The man was only a common trooper. Flustered and nervous in the presence of a khan, the sentry finally remembered his place and dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Do not be angry, Chanar Khan,” he stammered. “I was only following the instructions of my commander.”

“Good work, soldier … What lies beyond?” Chanar was at a loss for what he was supposed to do now. Bayalun left him stranded there, and he was beginning to think that she’d used him for a fool.

“General, this leads—” Suddenly a black shape sprang out of the darkness onto the sentry’s back. The attacker struck with a knife. The guard gave a muffled, bubbling gasp. The two bodies crashed to the ground. Chanar sprang back, drawing his saber, ready to strike. The bodies thrashed about, and then the guard stopped moving.

“Help me up,” commanded Bayalun from on top of the sentry. Chanar started, then recognized the black shape as the second empress. He was amazed she could move so quickly and with such strength.

Chanar pulled her up. Her hands were warm and slippery. Panting from the exertion, the khadun leaned against the general to catch her breath. The sentry’s blood dripped from her fingers onto Chanar’s gleaming mail.

“Help me find my staff,” she said weakly.

“You killed him,” Chanar said, still disbelieving the speed with which she had struck. He found Bayalun’s staff and handed it to her.

“He saw us. Now drag his body into that ravine, out of sight,” Bayalun commanded, pointing ahead into the darkness.

Startled into motion, the general grabbed the dead man’s heels and pulled the body, facedown, through the dirt, leaving a trail of blood behind. There was a thud and then a clatter of rocks as the body slid down the slope into the gully. Rubbing the blood off his hands with a fistful of dust, Chanar stood at the top of the gully. He was looking into the thick shadows when Bayalun joined him.

“This is a bad omen,” Chanar cursed as they wound their way along the bottom of the gully. He fumed quietly. “The guard’s death’ll be noticed. It’s certain to betray us.”

“Listen,” Bayalun said, her fiery spirit rising, “they’ll think the Shou did it. No one knows we are here.”

Chanar’s tension eased, seeing the wisdom of her words. “It’s too bad that man had to die,” he finally allowed, “but it was his fate.”

Bayalun said nothing, carefully picking her way through the stones. The tumbled slopes of the ravine widened, creating a small, level circle of ground, free of broken rocks. The weak moonlight cast a dim radiance at the center of the clearing, leaving heavy, dark shadows along the edges. Bayalun stopped in one of these shadows, holding Chanar close alongside her. He could tell the second empress was excited; she trembled slightly and her breath came in rapid gasps.

They stood still, waiting. The air was chill, threatening to leave a heavy frost. Chanar thrust his hands into the wide sleeves of his robes to keep them warm and shifted uneasily, trying to maintain his patience.

A whispery voice sounded from the deep shadow on the other side of the clearing. “Welcome, Second Empress Eke Bayalun of the—”

“Enough greetings,” the widow interrupted with a sharp thump of her staff. “I’ve come. Is Ju-Hai Chou here?”

“I speak for the Minister of State,” answered the shadow, speaking with the shaky voice of an old man.

“Then know that if Ju-Hai Chou seeks our help to destroy the khahan of the Tuigan he must come himself. We do not deal with kharachu,” Bayalun noted angrily. Chanar doubted the speaker on the other side knew he’d just been called a slave by the khadun.

“The second empress and her general seek our help to gain the throne of the Tuigan. She will talk to whomever Ju-Hai Chou sends,” the voice whispered back in icy tones. Although softly spoken, the words were clear. Bayalun’s first demand had failed, and she now considered her next course of action.

“Ju-Hai Chou’s representative is acceptable,” she conceded, abruptly changing to a gentler tone. “We will stay.”

“Ju-Hai Chou will be greatly honored,” the voice said politely.

“Listen then,” Bayalun began once more, seizing the initiative. “Soon the khahan will ride against the Dragonwall. Perhaps your wall is strong, but he might break through.”

“Unthinkable,” the old man’s voice replied in utter confidence.

“Perhaps, but he is wily and has many men. The unthinkable might happen—especially if the wizards were to help him.”

“Their help will make no difference. No one can break the might of the Dragonwall; it is made of more than simple brick and mortar,” the voice boasted. “Do you think your khahan is the first to crash himself against it? Other armies have tried and failed.”

Bayalun raised her eyebrow in interest as she listened. The Shou hinted at secrets concerning the wall she did not know. Choosing her words carefully, she tried to goad him into revealing more. “Secrets can always be discovered,” the khadun suggested ominously, thumping her staff again for emphasis.

There was a sharp hiss from the other side of the ravine. The meaning of her words was not lost on the speaker. “You know?” the Shou snarled.

“I have many sources, kharachu,” Bayalun lied. She knew nothing of the wall, except what the Shou had let slip. Still, she paused to let the man worry. “Even if the khahan cannot break through, he will forever raid your caravans and strangle your trade with the western lands. All you can do is hide behind your wall until he goes away. You must get rid of him.”

“The second empress has some plan?” whispered the voice, somewhat rankled by her observations.

“Indeed. The armies of Shou Lung will destroy the khahan and his bodyguards.”

“What will you do while we risk all?” the speaker snapped.

“We will aid you, but we cannot act so directly. We cannot be suspected, or the throne will fall to one of the khahan’s sons. If that happens, nothing will be gained,” Bayalun explained patiently. “You must attack the khahan.”

“Very well. I will,” the hidden speaker across the clearing agreed. “What is your plan?”

“You will bring your army out of the Dragonwall and defeat the khahan. In the battle, he will be killed.”

“That is all?” the voice asked sarcastically. “And how are we to defeat him?”

“Chanar, explain the khahan’s plans,” Bayalun commanded, seating herself on a rock.

Chanar stepped forward, standing on the edge of the light. “Yamun Khahan will bring part of his army in front of the Dragonwall. He will attack with this group and then seem to retreat in great confusion. We’ve done this many times,” explained the general. “You must not pursue him. It’s a trap. When you don’t follow he’ll return to attack again. That’s when you must be ready to charge.”

“He outnumbers the troops we’ll have available. To attack then will be suicide,” whispered the Shou speaker.

“Only if you attack alone,” countered Chanar, “and you won’t. Send your army out onto the plain in front of the wall. The khahan won’t be able to resist. He will charge. When he does, break to your flanks and let him pass through toward the wall. My men will fall upon him from the rear, and you can strike from the sides. Trapped between the wall and our men, he’ll be destroyed.”

“And you will become khahan,” the voice concluded with a trace of sarcasm.

“And, if the tribute is paid to the khans, there will be peace between the Tuigan and Shou Lung,” Bayalun pointed out.

“The bribe will be paid. I will tell Ju-Hai Chou of your plan. You will not hear from us again until after the battle,” the voice said flatly. There was a scraping noise from the shadows as the stranger prepared to leave.

Bayalun called out, “Hold one moment, speaker for Ju-Hai Chou. A request.”

“What?”

“Send us one of your men to be a runner in case we need to communicate.”