The Khan Series 5-Book Bundle: Genghis: Birth of an Empire, Genghis: Bones of the Hills, Genghis: Lords of the Bow, Khan: Empire of Silver, Conqueror (238 page)

“Why would the Sung go to battle with such elderly soldiers?” he muttered. His foot was on a yellow banner and he reached down and picked up the torn cloth. Part of a painted symbol was revealed, but Salsanan did not recognize it. He let the crumpled cloth fall.

“Whoever they were, they should not have fought against us.”

His gaze fell on the center of the dead, a corpse with short-cropped gray hair surrounded by a ring of many others, as if they had died trying to protect him. A much younger man lay almost across the body, the only youthful face Salsanan could see. Arrow and sword wounds marked them all, the shafts themselves wrenched out from their flesh.

Salsanan shrugged, letting the small mystery go. “We cannot be far behind them now. Tell the men to make a good pace. And make sure the scouts show themselves early. I do not want to be attacked by my own people.”

SALSANAN CAUGHT UP WITH KUBLAI’S TUMANS ON THE OUTSKIRTS
of Changsha city. Like wolves entering another’s territory, both
sides were cautious at first. The outer scouts overlapped and raced back with messages for those who led them on both sides. The armies halted far enough away for there to be no sense of threat. Kublai rode out with Bayar and Uriang-Khadai, breaking off his negotiations with the prefect of Changsha almost in mid-sentence when he heard.

He and General Salsanan met on a spring afternoon, with just a few mare’s tails of cloud in the sky above and a warm breeze blowing. Between them, sixteen tumans faced each other. On Kublai’s side, they were veterans, fierce and grubby with old blood and dirt. On the other, they were fresh, their armor shining. Both forces looked at the other side in astonishment and there were many jeering calls.

Kublai was flushed with pleasure at the sight of so many tumans of the nation. He let Salsanan dismount first and bow before he climbed down from his horse.

“You do not know how welcome you are,” Kublai said.

“My lord, it seems to have fallen to me to bring the worst news,” Salsanan said.

Kublai’s smile vanished. “I already know my brother is dead. Yam riders found me, two of them.”

A crease appeared on Salsanan’s brow.

“Then I do not understand, my lord. If they found you, why have you not begun the journey home? The nation is gathering at Karakorum. The funeral of the khan …”

“My brother Mongke gave me a task, General. I have made the decision to finish it.”

Salsanan did not respond at first. He was a man used to authority and comfortable in a chain of command. With the khan dead, it was as if a vital support beam had been removed and his habitual certainty was gone. He stammered slightly as he tried again, unnerved under the pale stare of the khan’s brother.

“My lord, I was given the task of escorting you home. Those are my only orders. Are you saying you will not come?”

“I am saying I
cannot
,” Kublai snapped, “until I have brought the Sung to heel. The sky father has sent you to me, Salsanan. Your tumans are a gift, when I thought there could be none.”

Salsanan saw Kublai’s assumption and spoke quickly to head him off before he gave orders that could not be undone.

“We are not reinforcements, my lord. My orders were to bring you home to Karakorum. Tell me where your camp is and I will begin the preparations. The khan is dead. There will be a gathering in Karakorum …”

Kublai had flushed again as he spoke, this time in anger.

“Are you deaf? I have said I will not come back until my work is finished. Until I have the Sung emperor’s head. Whatever your orders were, I countermand them. You
are
my reinforcements, sorely needed. With you, I will complete the khan’s wishes.”

Salsanan clenched his jaw, seeking for calm and finding it difficult to grasp. He found his own anger rising and his voice hardened as he replied.

“With respect, I am not yours to command, my lord. Neither are the tumans under me. If you will not come home, I must leave you here and make my way back. I will carry whatever messages you want me to take to Karakorum.”

Kublai turned away, taking a moment to wrap his reins around his hand. He could see Salsanan’s tumans in silent ranks stretching into the distance. He hungered to have them with him, doubling his forces at a stroke. At his back, his veterans were waiting in good spirits, certain that this new army had come to bolster their strength. To see them march away would be a small death, abandoned at the moment of triumph. Kublai shook his head. He could not allow it. Every mile to the east had brought a greater density of towns, better roads, and teeming people. Hangzhou was barely five hundred miles on, but already he could see the wealth and strength of the outlying cities. He
needed
Salsanan’s men. They were the answer to prayers, the sign of benevolent spirits bringing him aid when he needed it most.

“You leave me no choice, General,” Kublai said, his eyes glinting with anger. He mounted his horse easily, leaping into the saddle. “General Bayar, Orlok Uriang-Khadai, bear witness.” Kublai raised his voice, making it carry to both sides of waiting warriors.

“I am Kublai of the Borjigin. I am grandson to Genghis Khan. I am eldest brother to Mongke Khan.”

“My lord!” Salsanan said in shock, as he realized what was happening. “You can’t do this!”

Kublai went on as if he had not spoken.

“Before you all, in the lands of my enemies, I declare myself great khan of the nation, of the khanates under my brothers, Hulegu and Arik-Boke, of the Chagatai khanate and all others. I declare myself great khan of the Chin lands and the Sung. I have spoken and my word is iron!”

Deep silence followed his words for a beat, then his tumans bellowed in joy, raising their weapons. On the other side, Salsanan’s men responded in a great roar of acclamation.

Salsanan tried to speak again, but his voice was lost in the tumult. Kublai drew his sword and held it high. The noise seemed to double in volume, crashing against them.

Kublai looked down at Salsanan as he sheathed his sword.

“Tell me
again
what I can’t do, General,” he said. “Well? I have the right. I claim it by blood. Now I will take your oath, or I will have your head.” He shrugged. “It is nothing to me.”

Salsanan stared, slack-jawed at what he had witnessed. He looked around at his cheering men and the last of his resistance faded. Slowly, he knelt on the grass, looking up at the khan of the nation.

“I offer you gers, horses, salt, and blood, my lord khan,” he said, glassy-eyed.

AT DAWN, ARIK-BOKE STOOD ON THE PLAINS BEFORE KARAKORUM
. Mongke’s two oldest sons had been granted a place close by their uncle. Asutai was sixteen and Urung Tash fourteen, but in their wide shoulders they showed signs of what would become their father’s massive strength. They were still red-eyed from grief. Arik-Boke had been kind to them in the days after the terrible news had come home and both young men looked up to him in simple hero worship.

Hulegu stood at his brother’s right hand, still darkly tanned from his time in Persia and Syria. He had left only a small force behind with General Kitbuqa to guard the new cities, the new khanate he had won there. Arik-Boke could practically feel his brother’s pride. Hulegu had done well with Baghdad, but the region was far from pacified. He could not stay long in Karakorum.

Arik-Boke rubbed the scar across his ruined nose. He caught himself in the habit and took his hand away, determined to be dignified on this of all days. He looked out at the massed tumans of the nation, the princes who had crossed half the world to be there when they heard of the khan’s death. They had come a long, long way from the fledgling nation Genghis had created from far-flung tribes. It showed in their numbers and in their obvious wealth.

The body of Mongke Khan lay hidden in a huge covered cart, specially
built for that task, for that day. It was to be drawn by forty white horses and followed on foot by thousands of men and women. Their tears would salt the ground as they returned to the last resting place of Mongke’s grandfather. Proud princes would walk in its wake, putting aside the signs of their rank as they mourned the father of the nation.

Arik-Boke watched as the sun began to set. In the dark, torches would be lit along a path that stretched away from the city and they would begin. Before that, they waited for him. He turned to Hulegu and his brother nodded to him. Arik-Boke smiled, recalling the first tense meeting after Hulegu’s return. For the first time in years, they had walked out of the city like a pair of poor herdsmen, bearing skins of airag on their shoulders. There were many fires around the city, many men and women huddling around them against the cold. Hulegu and Arik-Boke had sat down to join the vigil, talking all the while of the khan and brother they had lost. They had honored Mongke with mouthfuls of airag spat into the air and both of them had drunk themselves into a bleary stupor.

Hulegu had been burned dark under a harsh sun. He even smelled different, an odor of cloves and strange spices coming off his skin. As that first night had gone on, his eyes were bright as he described the lands he had seen, with sunlit mountains and ancient secrets. He told Arik-Boke of kohl-eyed Persian women he had seen dance to exhaustion, flinging sweat like bright jewels in the light of feast fires. He spoke of the great markets; of snakes and magicians, of brass and of gold. His voice had grown hoarse with recollection and awe.

Before the sun had risen, Arik-Boke had understood that Hulegu did not want the empire of the great khan. His brother had fallen in love with the desert lands and itched even then to return to them, begrudging every day spent on the cold plains of home. In the morning, they had risen to their feet with groans and creaking joints, but they were at peace with each other.

Arik-Boke breathed slowly, forcing himself to relax. It was time: The nation waited for him to speak. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the incense that lay strongly on the air.

“My brother Mongke entrusted the homeland to me, the plains
where Genghis himself was born. In his absence, he entrusted Karakorum to my hands. I will continue his work, his ambitions, his vision for the small khanates. The nations cannot be left unattended, this we have agreed.” His heart pounded and he took another breath.

“I will be great khan, in the line of Genghis, in the line of Ogedai, Guyuk, and my brother Mongke. Speak your oaths to me and honor my brother’s wishes.”

Hulegu knelt first at his side and Arik-Boke rested a hand on his shoulder. Mongke’s sons followed, for all to witness. Arik-Boke had offered them lands and wealth and had hardly needed to explain the alternative. After such a public display, there would be no one whispering to them that they could have taken the khanate.

As far as the eye could see, the tumans followed suit. In a ripple like a rock dropping into a still pond, the assembled princes knelt and offered gers, horses, salt, and blood. Arik-Boke shuddered slightly, closing his eyes. Only Kublai was missing from the great host before Karakorum. His brother would hear the news from the yam riders waiting to gallop away, but by then the whole world would know there was a new khan. At least Kublai was not a man of great ambition, or he would surely have challenged Mongke when they were all still young. Arik-Boke tried to ignore the itch of his doubts. Kublai should have come home when he heard Mongke had died, but he had not. He was a dreamer, more suited to libraries and scrolls than leadership of the nation. If his older brother chose to challenge him, Arik-Boke would answer with all the force of the risen nation.

Arik-Boke smiled at the thought of the scholar riding to war. Kublai had sent home the women and children of his tumans. They too had given their oaths to him, kneeling in the dust before Karakorum. As Mongke’s sons had chosen their path, Kublai would be forced to accept the new order. He sighed with pleasure at the sight of so many tens of thousands on their knees before him. The youngest son of Tolui and Sorhatani had dared to stretch out his hand when the people needed a khan. It was Arik-Boke’s day and the sun was still rising.