Authors: Conn Iggulden
“We have many things to discuss with the khan. Claim your horse another time.”
Tsubodai’s face fell with disappointment and Khasar snorted, catching him by the shoulder as he turned away. He recalled the boy’s courage in leaping among the sons of the Woyela. It was a favor he could repay.
“Perhaps there will be a moment when we are done. Come with me, then, if you can be silent.”
Tsubodai regained his grin on the instant, tinged with nervousness at meeting the great khan himself. With a dry mouth, he climbed the steps of the cart and followed the brothers into the shadowed interior.
Genghis was ready for them, his young messenger still panting at his side.
“Where are the scouts?” he demanded, taking in their serious expressions.
“Dead, brother. And the pass is guarded by a wall of black stone as high as a hundred gers, maybe more.”
“We saw perhaps fifty archers drawn out,” Kachiun added. “They were not skilled, as we know it, but they could hardly miss. The wall lies at the end of a narrow pass, a gorge between steep sides of rock. I could not see a way to flank them.”
Genghis frowned, rising from his seat. He made a clicking sound in his throat as he stepped across the ger and passed out into the bright sun. Khasar and Kachiun followed him out, hardly noticing the wide-eyed Tsubodai on their heels.
Genghis stood on the blue-green sand below them, looking up. He held a stick in his hands and gestured with it, drawing a line on the ground.
“Show me,” he ordered.
It was Kachiun who took the stick and drew in neat strokes. Khasar watched in fascination as his brother re-created the canyon he had seen a few hours before. To one side, Kachiun drew a copy of the arched gate and Genghis rubbed his chin in irritation.
“We could tear the carts up to make wooden shields to get men close,” he said doubtfully.
Kachiun shook his head. “That would bring us to the gate against their shafts, but once we were there, they could drop stones on us. From that height, a few planks would be smashed to pieces.”
Genghis raised his head, gazing over the ranks of the families to the treeless expanse of the desert in all directions. They had nothing with which to build.
“Then we will have to draw them out,” he said. “A staged retreat, with valuable items left in our wake. I will send in men in the best armor and they will survive the arrows, but be driven back by them in panic, with much shouting.” He smiled at the prospect. “It will teach our warriors a little humility, perhaps.”
Kachiun rubbed his boot along the edge of the drawing. “It might work if we could know when they open the gate, but the canyon twists. As soon as we are out of sight, we’ll have no way of knowing when they come out. If I could get a couple of boys onto the crags at the sides, they could signal to us, but it is a vicious climb and there’s no cover on those rocks. They would be seen.”
“May I speak, lord?” Tsubodai said suddenly.
Khasar started in indignation. “I told you to be silent. Can you not see this is important?” The gaze of all three men turned on the young warrior, and he blushed darkly.
“I am sorry. I thought of a way we might know when they come out.”
“Who are you?” Genghis asked.
Tsubodai’s voice wavered as he bowed his head. “Tsubodai of the Uriankhai, lord.” He caught himself in embarrassment. “Of the nation, lord, I—” Genghis held up a hand. “I remember. Tell me what you are thinking.”
With a visible effort, Tsubodai swallowed his nervousness and told them. It surprised him that they had not thought of it. The gaze of Genghis in particular seemed to bore into him, and he ended staring away into the middle distance.
Tsubodai suffered in silence while the three men considered. After an age, Genghis nodded.
“That could work,” he said, grudgingly. Tsubodai seemed to grow a little taller.
Khasar flashed a smile at the younger man, as if he were responsible for his cleverness.
“See to it, Kachiun,” Genghis said. He grinned at Tsubodai’s pride. “Then I will ride to see this place you describe.” His mood changed as he considered destroying some of the carts that had carried the families across the desert. With wood so scarce, each one was much mended and handed down through the generations. There was no help for it.
“Take the first ten carts you see and join the wood into a barricade that can be held and moved.”
He saw Kachiun’s gaze drift over the khan’s ger at his back and snorted.
“Begin with the next cart you see, brother. Do not think to have mine.”
Kachiun moved quickly away to gather the men and materials he would need. Genghis remained, facing the young warrior.
“I have promised you a horse and armor. What else would you have from me?”
Tsubodai’s face paled in confusion. He had not thought to add to the khan’s debt, only to solve a problem that had intrigued him.
“Nothing, lord. It is enough to ride with my people.”
Genghis stared at him and scratched the side of his face. “He has courage and intelligence, Khasar. Give him ten men in the attack on the wall.” His yellow eyes flickered back to Tsubodai, who stood rooted in shock. “I will watch to see how you lead more experienced warriors.” He paused for the news to sink in, then added a barb to prick the young man’s swelling confidence: “If you fail them, you will not live beyond the sunset of that day,” he said.
Tsubodai bowed deeply in response, the warning barely denting his excitement.
Genghis grunted to himself, “Have my horse brought, Khasar. I will see this wall and these archers who think to stand in my way.”
CHAPTER 5
T
HE
X
I
X
IA DEFENDERS COULD HAVE NO IDEA
how many Mongols had crossed the desert against them. Though Genghis rode up to the edge of bow range with a dozen officers, he kept the main army well back in the twisting canyon. He had decided against sending climbers up the slopes. The plan depended on the defenders thinking of them as unsophisticated herdsmen. Watchers on the peaks would reveal at least some talent for planning and make the fort soldiers suspicious. Genghis chewed his lower lip as he stared up at the Xi Xia fort. Archers clustered like ants on the wall and at intervals one would send a shaft high into the air to get the range for any assault that might follow. Genghis watched the last of them sink into the ground a dozen paces ahead of him. His own men could fire further and he spat contemptuously in the enemy archers’ direction.
The air was thick and still in the canyon, where no winds could blow. The heat of the desert was still strong while the sun crossed overhead and cut their shadows almost to nothing. He touched the sword of his father for luck, then turned his pony in place and rode back to where a hundred warriors waited.
They were silent, as he had ordered, but excitement was visible in their young faces. Like all Mongols, they relished the idea of tricking an enemy even more than overwhelming him by force.
“The wooden shield is lashed together,” Khasar said at his shoulder. “It’s rough, but it will get them to the foot of the wall. I have given them forge hammers to try the gate. Who knows, they might break in.”
“If that happens, have another hundred ready to charge in support,” Genghis said. He turned to Kachiun standing nearby to oversee the last details. “Hold the rest back, Kachiun. It would be an easy killing ground for them to be packed in tight while only a few can climb through. I do not want them running wild.”
“I’ll put Arslan at the head of the second group,” Kachiun replied. It was a good choice and Genghis nodded assent. The swordsmith could follow orders in a storm of arrows.
At their backs, the wall seemed to loom still, though it was lost to direct sight. Genghis had no idea what lay behind the dark stones, or how many men defended the pass. It did not matter. In less than two days, the last water skins would be empty. The tribes would start to drop after that, dying from thirst and his ambitions. The fort had to fall.
Many of the men carried beautiful swords and spears to leave on the sand, anything that might catch the eye of the defenders and make them come out. To a man, they wore the best armor, copies of a Chin design. In the heat, the finger-width iron scales stung bare skin, and their silk undertunics were soon sour with sweat. They gulped from skins of the dwindling water supply. Genghis had imposed no ration on men about to risk their lives.
“We have done all we can, brother,” Khasar said, interrupting his thoughts. Both men watched as Kokchu appeared among the warriors, scattering precious water over them and chanting. Many of the men bowed their heads to receive his blessing, and Genghis frowned to himself. He imagined Temuge doing the same thing in the future and could find no glory in it.
“I should be among the attackers,” Genghis murmured.
Kachiun heard and shook his head. “You cannot be seen to run from anything, brother. Perhaps the plan will go wrong and the tribes will be routed. You cannot be seen as a coward, and not half the army knows the plan here, not yet. It is enough for them to see you watching. I have chosen most for nerve and courage. They will follow orders.”
“They must,” Genghis replied. His brothers moved apart to clear the trail for the assault group and the wide wooden shelter. The men bore it above their heads with pride and the tension built in silence.
“I would see this wall brought down,” Genghis said to them. “If not with blades and hammers, then with guile. Some of you will die, but the sky father loves the warrior spirit and you will be welcomed. You will open a way to the sweet kingdom beyond. Sound the drums and horns. Let them hear and worry in their precious fort. Let the sound carry right to the heart of the Xi Xia and even the Chin in their cities.”
The warriors took deep breaths, readying themselves for the sprint to come. In the distance a bird called shrilly, high on the thermals above the hills. Kokchu exclaimed that it was a good omen, and most of the men looked up to the blue bowl above their heads. A dozen drummers began to pound the rhythms of battle, and the familiar sound lifted them all, making hearts beat faster. Genghis swept his arm down and the army roared and horns wailed. The first group jogged to the point where they could turn into the main canyon and then accelerated, calling a raucous challenge. Echoing back came the warning cries from the fort.
“Now we will see,” Genghis said, clenching and unclenching his sword hand.
The voices of the warriors crashed against the sides of the pass as they ran. They were suffering under the weight of the barricade above their heads, already half blind with sweat. It proved its worth in moments as it bristled with black shafts, the colored feathers quivering. The archers were well disciplined, Genghis saw, loosing together after a barked order. One or two shots were lucky and by the time the barricade reached the wall, there were three still figures lying facedown on the sand in their wake.
A dull booming filled the pass as the hammer men attacked the door in the wall. Archers swarmed above, leaning over to send their arrows straight down at the smallest gaps. Men cried out and fell away from the edges of the wooden shield, their bodies jerking as they were hit again and again.
Genghis swore under his breath as he saw heavy stones being raised to the parapet. He had discussed the possibility with his generals, but still winced in anticipation as an officer wearing a plumed helmet raised his arm and screamed an order. The first stone seemed to fall for a long time, and Genghis heard the crack as it hammered those below to their knees. As they struggled up, the hammer men struck even harder, their blows coming as fast as the beats of the drummers they had left behind.
Two more stones fell before the wooden barricade broke apart. The hammers were thrown to the sand and a great roar of panic went up as the archers above found fresh targets. Genghis clenched his fists as he watched his men scatter. The door in the wall had held and they could do nothing but shake their weapons in rage at the enemy over their heads. Man after man fell, and without warning, they broke back down the pass, racing each other in desperation.
As they ran, more of them were knocked from their feet by waves of buzzing arrows. Barely more than a dozen made it out of range, resting their hands on their knees and panting. Behind them the pass was littered with everything they had dropped in the retreat, the bodies marked by shafts sticking out of them.
Genghis walked slowly to the center of the path, staring up at the jubilant defenders. He could hear their cheering and it was hard to make himself turn his back to them. When he did, the sound intensified and he walked stiffly away until he knew he was lost to sight.
On the highest point of the wall, Liu Ken watched him go, his satisfaction straining the impassive mask he showed the soldiers around him. They were smiling openly and clapping each other on the back as if they had won a great victory. He felt his temper rising at their foolishness.
“Change the shift and get five Sui of fresh archers up here,” he snapped. The smiles vanished. “We’ve lost a thousand shafts in the gorge, so make sure the quivers are full once again. Give every man a drink of water.”
Liu rested his hands on the ancient stone, looking into the pass. They had killed almost all of those who had come into range, and he was pleased with the archers. He made a note to congratulate the officer of the wall. The sound of hammers had worried him, but the door had held. Liu Ken smiled tightly to himself. If it hadn’t, the Mongols would have run straight into a high-walled compound with archers on every side above them. The fort was beautifully designed and he was pleased his tour of duty had not ended before he had seen this test of its construction.
He frowned at the broken pieces of wood on the sand. Everything he had been told of the tribes suggested that if they came at all, they would attack like wild animals. The barricade showed shrewd planning and it nagged at him. He would be sure to put it in his report to the governor of the province. Let him decide how best to respond. Liu mused to himself as he looked down at the scattered dead. The stones had never been used before. Most were moss-covered from years of lying ready on the wall. Those too would have to be replenished from the stores, though there were clerks for that sort of mundane activity. It was about time they did more than allocate food and water for the men, he considered.
Liu turned at the clatter of sandals and swallowed his dismay at the sight of the fort commander coming up the steps to the wall. Shen Ti was an administrator rather than a soldier, and Liu braced himself to answer his inane questions. The climb up to the wall had left the fat man gasping, so Liu had to look away rather than acknowledge his superior’s weakness. He waited without speaking as Shen Ti joined him at the wall and looked down with bright eyes, his breathing still labored.
“We have sent the dogs running,” Shen Ti said, recovering. Liu inclined his head in silent agreement. He had not seen the commander during the attack. No doubt he had been cowering with his concubines in his private rooms on the other side of the fort. With wry humor, Liu thought of the words of Sun Tzu on defensive war. Shen Ti was certainly adept at hiding in “the recesses of the earth,” but only because Liu had been there to scatter the attackers. Still, he owed courtesy to the man’s rank.
“I will leave the bodies for the rest of the day, lord, to be certain none of them are faking death. I will send men out to gather weapons and collect shafts at dawn.”
Shen Ti peered down at the bodies in the canyon. He could see boxes lying on the ground as well as a beautiful spear as long as a man. He knew that if he left it to the soldiers, anything valuable would vanish into private collections. Something sparkled in the green and gold sand and he squinted at it.
“You will supervise them, Liu. Send men down now to check the gate is not damaged. Have them bring anything valuable to me to examine.”
Liu hid a wince at the fat commander’s naked greed. The Uighurs never had anything of value, he thought. There was no reason to expect more than a few bits of shiny metal from those ragged tribesmen. Yet he was not a noble and he bowed as low as he could in full armor.
“As you command, lord.” He left Shen Ti still staring down, a faint smile touching his fleshy lips. Liu snapped his fingers to attract the attention of a group of archers who were taking turns drinking from a water bucket.
“I am going out to strip the dead.” He took a deep breath, aware that he had allowed his bitterness at the shameful order to show. “Get back to your positions and be ready for another attack.”
The men scurried to obey, the water bucket landing with a clang and spinning untended as they rushed back to the wall. Liu sighed to himself before concentrating on the task at hand. No doubt the Uighurs would be made to pay for the attack when the king heard about it. In the peaceful lands of the Xi Xia, it would be the talk of the court, perhaps for months. Trade would be strangled for a generation and punishment raids would be sent out against every Uighur settlement. Liu had no taste for that sort of war, and he considered asking for a transfer back to Yinchuan city. They always needed good guards with experience.
He gave crisp orders to a dozen spearmen to follow him and walked down the cool steps to the outer gate. From the inside, it looked untouched by the assault, and in the shadow of the walls, he considered the fate of anyone foolish enough to break it down. He would not like to be among them, he thought. It was second nature to him to check the inner gate was secure before he raised his hand to the outer locking bar. Sun Tzu was perhaps the greatest military thinker the Chin had ever produced, but he did not consider the difficulties of greedy men like Shen Ti giving the orders.
Liu took a deep breath and pushed open the door, letting in a beam of hard sunlight. The men behind him shuffled in readiness and he nodded to their captain.
“I want two men to stay and guard the door. The rest of you are to collect usable shafts and anything else that might be valuable. If there is trouble, drop it all and run for the gate. There will be no talking and not one of you will go more than fifty paces, even if there are emeralds the size of duck eggs lying in the sand. Acknowledge my orders.”
The soldiers saluted as one and their captain tapped two on the shoulder to remain on guard. Liu nodded, squinting out into the sun as his eyes adjusted. He could not expect high standards from the sort of soldier who ended up in the fort. Almost to a man, they had made some error in the standing army, or offended someone with influence. Even Shen Ti had made some secret error in his political past, he was sure, though the fat man would never unburden himself to a common soldier, no matter what rank he held.
Liu let out a long, low breath, checking a mental list of the defenses. He had done all he could, but still there was a feeling in his bones that he did not like. He stepped over a body, noting that the man wore armor very similar to his own. He frowned at that. There was no record of the Uighurs copying Chin armor. It was rough, but of serviceable quality, and Liu found his sense of unease growing.
Ready to leap back, he trod heavily on an outstretched hand. He heard a bone break, and at the lack of movement, he nodded and went further out. The dead lay thickest near the gate and he could see two sprawling men with arrows through their throats. Heavy hammers had fallen near them and Liu picked one up, propping it against the wall to be taken in on his return. It too was well made.
As he narrowed his eyes on the end of the pass, his men fanned out, stooping to pick up weapons from the sand. Liu began to relax a little, seeing two of them yanking arrows from a body that resembled a porcupine for the density of the strikes. He strode out of the wall’s shadow, wincing at the sudden brightness. Thirty paces ahead of him lay two boxes, and he knew Shen Ti would be watching to see if he found something of worth in them. Why the tribesmen would have brought gold or silver to an attack Liu could not fathom, but he walked across the baking sand toward them, his hand ready on his sword. Could they contain snakes or scorpions? He had heard of such things being used to attack cities, though usually they were thrown over the walls. The tribesmen had brought no catapults or ladders on their assault.