by Troy Denning
Yet, that had never been an option he would have chosen. The first time he had picked up a sword, Batu had decided to become a soldier. He had never known anything else, and had never wanted to. Instead of laying his weapons aside, Batu realized, it would have been better to harden his heart against love-as he hardened it against the death and agony of those who served under him.
As he reflected on his past blindness, Batu slowly realized that the time had come for him to command again. It was true that he had been wrong to take a family. Having taken one, it was equally true that he had been wrong to continue life as a soldier. But those were errors that he had made in the past. By refusing to face them now, he was shaming himself and minimizing the sacrifice that his family had made on his behalf. If Batu was to venerate his wife and children properly, he had to stop using their memories to shield him from his own guilty feelings. He had to start living again.
The renegade waved the quiverbearer to his side, then gave the servant his kumiss cup. "Take this away and get me some water."
The khahan raised an eyebrow. "Are you feeling ill?" he asked.
Batu shook his head. "No. It's time I started keeping a clear head."
The khahan smirked. "Don't get carried away. Chanar Ong Kho isn't that much of a rival."
Batu snorted. "I'm not worried about Chanar," he said. "I want to be ready for command when it's time to fight."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," the khahan warned. "You will have to deal with Chanar."
Yamun remained silent for several moments. Finally, he changed the subject and said, "Since you have decided to keep a clear head, let me make use of it and ask your advice."
"Certainly."
"I am thinking that if Chanar had found anything beyond the mountains, we would have heard about it by now." The khahan absentmindedly swirled the contents of his cup.
Batu did not hazard his own opinion. It was clear that the Mighty One's mood had shifted, but he did not know to where. Undoubtedly, Yamun was leading up to something.
"While we sit here, the snows only grow deeper and the men feel more restless," the khahan added, looking into his cup.
"This is true," Batu agreed. In the last week alone, more than ten thousand men had left camp, claiming the need to return to their clans, their ordus, to see that their families were fed through the winter. Although both Yamun and Batu knew that the real reason for the exodus was sheer boredom, the khahan had allowed them to go. He was a perceptive commander who knew that resentful men made poor warriors. Besides, once he sent word back to the plains that the battle had been joined, recruits would come streaming across the snowy waste by the thousands.
"I am thinking we should take the army and follow Chanar through the gap," Yamun said, still studying the contents of his cup.
"It is certainly possible that nothing lies beyond the mountains," Batu ventured. "But I would not want to gamble all my armies on it. After passing the gap, we could easily be cut off and destroyed."
"By what?" the khahan snapped, looking up from the study of his kumiss. "Since you advised me to leave Shou Lung, we have not seen a hundred men in one place, much less a kingdom that could field an army. The men are saying that I am lost or afraid."
"There is a great difference between fear and caution," Batu countered.
Yamun pointed at the renegade, then thumped his own chest. "You and I know this," he said. "But our soldiers do not. To them, inaction is cowardice."
Batu knew that the khahan spoke the truth. The men in most armies would have been elated to rest for a week, but not so with the Tuigan. They seemed born to ride and to fight, and were at their most miserable when not doing one or the other.
"Great Khahan," Batu said. "The courage of the Tuigan warrior is legend, but he is no less vulnerable to an ambush than any other soldier."
"Then you advise against following Chanar through the gap?"
Though he knew his answer would not please the khahan, Batu did not hesitate. "I do, though I appreciate your uneasiness at letting Chanar out of sight for so long."
The khahan allowed himself a wry smile at the remark, then returned to the business at hand. "You have always been cautious, Batu. While you scheme and reconnoiter, I attack. That is why I drove all the way to Shou Kuan when I invaded your country."
Batu saw no purpose in telling the khahan that letting the Tuigan reach Shou Kuan had been part of his plan. He also saw no purpose in arguing, for Yamun had decided to move through the gap long before summoning his Shou general. By debating further, Batu stood to gain nothing. A better approach was to help the khahan develop a plan that allowed for the possibility of escape if trouble arose.
"Khahan," Batu said, "your wisdom is infinite, and if you think the time to move has come, I cannot argue-"
Batu was interrupted when a Kashik stepped through the yurt's entrance. "General Chanar returns," the guard reported.
The man who followed the Kashik hardly resembled the arrogant khan who had left camp seven days ago. Chanar's hat was missing, and the shaven circle atop his head was red and peeling from sunburn. His face was haggard and drawn, with a grayish complexion and deep circles beneath his eyes. The tattered remnants of a del were draped over his shoulders, and Batu saw a piece of yellow metal glittering through the ripped left pocket. The khan lacked several pieces of armor. What remained had been so severely beaten that it was full of gaping holes where metal plates had fallen off.
Chanar stepped forward and kneeled, filling the yurt with the unmistakable stench of sulfur and smoke. "I have returned, Khahan."
When he saw Yamun frown at the sorry sight, Batu dared to interject, "Barely, from all appearances."
Chanar's face reddened, but the khahan paid no attention to the affront. "Rise and report," the Tuigan ruler said, neglecting to offer his weary subordinate a seat or a cup of kumiss.
Casting a sinister glance in Batu's direction, Chanar returned to his feet. "There is a rich kingdom beyond the mountains," he began.
The khahan looked annoyed. "It took seven days to report this?"
Chanar grimaced and looked away for an instant. When he turned his gaze back to the khahan's, he said, "No, Great Khahan. I was exploring the kingdom in order to make a more complete report."
"Your orders were to scout and report," Yamun Khahan snapped, "not to explore. By your appearance, I would say your disobedience got you in trouble. What happened?"
Chanar immediately pointed at Batu. "It was his fault," the Tuigan said. "He sent us into a trap!"
The khahan raised an eyebrow. "What kind of trap?"
"Magic!" Chanar hissed. "It was everywhere-stinking clouds that choked man and beast, fire falling from the sky, wolves that walked and used swords like men. It was only through my great skill that I escaped with a jagun."
"A jagun!" the khahan roared, hurling his cup over the general's head. "I send you into the mountains with five thousand men and you return with a hundred!"
Chanar weathered the storm gracefully, and Batu realized the Tuigan had been expecting it. After the khahan stopped yelling, Chanar said, "As I said, the Shou sent us into a trap. We were ambushed as soon as we left the valley."
"On whom did you blame your failures before I joined the khahan's armies?" Batu countered.
"I didn't mean to offend you," Chanar responded smugly, barely sparing a glance for the Shou. "I only meant that you made a mistake and did not appreciate the position you were placing us in."
The renegade understood the khan's insidious plan. It had been Yamun, not Batu, who had sent the scouts into the pass. Nevertheless, Chanar was blaming the Shou, hoping to provide the khahan with a convenient scapegoat for what appeared to be a disastrous decision. In addition, he had constructed his arguments in such a way that Batu either looked like a traitor for sending the patrol into an ambush, or an idiot for not realizing that there might be one. At the same time, the Tuigan general had neatly sidestepped the central issue, which was that he and his men were th
e ones who were supposed to be searching out the ambushes.
Batu suspected that Yamun was as aware of Chanar's tactic as he himself. Nevertheless, bearing in mind the khahan's earlier comments about Chanar's rivalry, the renegade decided to turn the tables on the haggard khan. "General Chanar, you are a liar."
"How dare you!" Chanar responded. He turned to the khahan. "Must I continually endure this dog's abuse in your yurt?"
The khahan silenced the angry general with a gesture, then turned to Batu. "It is a terrible insult to call a man a liar to his face," he said. "Perhaps you wish to rethink your words?"
"No," Batu responded, staring straight at Chanar. "I can prove what I say, if you will ask Chanar to empty his pockets."
Chanar frowned. His hand drifted toward the left pocket of his del and he seemed worried. Batu knew he had caught his rival off-guard. The Tuigan had clearly not expected to be searched.
"Will you do this, Chanar?" the Mighty One asked.
Although the khahan phrased the request as a question, Chanar had no choice except to comply. Biting his lip, he reached into his pocket. He withdraw a handful of gold coins and a four-spoked golden wheel beset with rare gems-the crest of some religious or military order. Even from several yards away, Batu could see that the thing was worth a fortune.
"I brought these for you, Great Khahan," Chanar said, thinking on his feet. "They are but small samples of the wealth beyond the mountains."
"How did you come by them?" Yamun demanded, motioning Chanar forward.
"I took them off an enemy," the haggard man responded, giving his commander the golden wheel.
"Only a fool would take something so heavy and of such value into battle," Batu declared.
Hefting the wheel, the khahan said, "So it would seem."
"You took it while looting," Batu continued, his eyes fixed on Chanar's snarling form. "No doubt, that is when you were really ambushed."
Chanar turned back to the khahan. "Nobody calls me a liar. I demand the right to avenge this insult!"
"Gladly," Batu responded, rising.
The khahan flung the golden wheel aside. "No!" he stormed. "I will not be dishonored by such behavior!" The Tuigan ruler stood. "We have been sitting too long. Our tempers have grown short with boredom, and we all long to feel the wind in our hair. It is clear that a strong enemy lies in our path, for five thousand Tuigan do not die easily, whether they are ambushed or not."
Yamun looked from Chanar to Batu, scowling at each man in turn. "Chanar is a Tuigan khan and a cunning leader. Batu has earned my respect on the battlefield, something no enemy has ever done. You are both my honored generals, yet you are more concerned with fighting each other than our enemies."
The khahan shook his head and walked away from the pair. "How should I choose between you?"
"I know," Batu said.
"How?" demanded Chanar.
Smiling confidently, Batu said, "I will take five minghans, the same number of troops as Chanar had, and blaze a trail through the mountains. If I and my five thousand troops fail, I will be Chanar's quiverbearer, honor-bound to follow his orders even though it means death."
"And if you succeed?" the khahan asked, turning around to face his quarreling subordinates.
"I will be Batu's quiverbearer," Chanar said, grinning confidently, "honor-bound to serve him even though it means death."
"Good," the khahan said. "I bear witness to your challenge and the wagers placed on it. Let all who question you know that this is done by the word of the khahan."
19
The Illustrious Battle
A tremendous crack sounded from the mountainside, and a bright light flared to Batu's right. Kicking free of his stirrups, he leaped out of the saddle just as a blinding flash struck the horse. A shock-wave jolted the renegade so hard that his teeth snapped together. As he slammed to the ground, the breath fled his lungs and a deafening boom set the earth itself to trembling. The discordant smells of ozone and scorched horse-hide filled the air, then his mount's carcass collapsed across his lower body.
At first Batu thought that his legs had been crushed, then that he was blind, and finally that he was deaf. For several moments, he lay motionless and isolated, his only connection to the world the cold mud beneath his face and the dead weight of his horse across his thighs. Finally, the pressure on his legs eased, his ears started to ring, and the white before his eyes faded to shades of gray. A pair of hands grasped his shoulders and dragged him to his feet.
"Commander! Are you hurt?"
Though it seemed muffled and distant, Batu recognized the voice. It belonged to Jochibi, the grisled veteran whom Yamun had assigned to him as second-in-command. Jochibi's true task, the renegade knew, was to act as the khahan's spy and insure that Batu did not betray his Tuigan master. Fortunately, the task did not conflict with serving as an advisor and adjutant, and the two men had developed a respect for each other.
As Batu regained his feet, he said, "Nothing feels broken." His vision had returned to normal, and he could see his subordinate's face. Jochibi's braids were streaked with gray. On the Tuigan's cheeks were parallel, self-inflicted scars that prevented his beard from growing.
"Another near miss," Jochibi observed.
"Yes," the Shou replied. A hundred yards away, fifty of his bodyguard had already reached the base of the mountain and dismounted. They were alternately firing arrows and clambering up the steep slope in pursuit of Batu's attacker, one of the enemy's red-robed wizards.
The wizard was supported by a dozen of the huge dog-men that the prisoners called gnolls. Easily eight feet tall, the furry brutes stood on their hind legs and used their hands as men did. However, they had the ferocious faces of huge, heavy-snouted dogs, complete with wet black noses, pointed ears, and long, vicious teeth.
As Batu watched, the red-clad wizard left his hiding place and fled along the mountainside, leaving the gnolls to cover his retreat.
"I wish I knew how they were picking me out," Batu said. Though he was dressed exactly the same as his subordinates, it was the fifth time an enemy wizard had appeared behind the lines and tried to assassinate him.
"Magic," Jochibi responded. He grabbed a handful of earth, then kissed it in a superstitious attempt to neutralize the effects of the unnatural art. "The enemy has too much of it. It scares the men and makes them fight like women."
"They may be afraid of magic, but they're hardly fighting like women," Batu replied, pointing at the guards charging up the mountainside. The gnolls were raining arrows down on them, using bows so long and powerful that a normal man could not draw one. The deadly shower did not slow the Tuigan at all.
Jochibi observed the charge for a moment, then spat on the ground. "Tuigan can run faster."
"Perhaps," Batu responded, admiring his subordinate's spirit. "Get me another horse. I want to be at the front of the column when we break out of this deathtrap."
Jochibi bit his lip. "The khahan's orders were to bring you back alive."
"My orders are to get a horse!" Batu snapped.
Jochibi looked away.
"I don't want to miss the real fighting. Do it!"
The Tuigan officer flinched under the sharpness of Batu's command, then said, "By Teylas's breath, you don't have to get so angry. I don't want to miss the fun any more than you." He turned to obey.
While Batu waited for his officer to return, he studied the battlefield. He was in the same pass that Chanar had explored. The gap was sixty miles long and between five and fifteen miles wide. It had taken less than a day to ride through the first half of the canyon, but enemy ambushes had slowed their progress through the second half. It had taken more than two days to cover the last thirty miles.
The army was now within a half-mile of the gap's end. The scouts had reported that an enemy force twice as large as Batu's blocked the exit. As it was still early afternoon, the renegade intended to destroy the defending army before evening. By nightfall, he would be riding into the plains beyond.<
br />
Batu smiled at the audacity of his plan. If he had been commanding a Shou army, he would never have tried to do so much. When he had suggested his bold tactics to Jochibi, however, the horsewarrior had simply shrugged and asked why his commander thought there might be a problem.
Even allowing for their horses, the nomads were different from any pengs Batu had ever commanded. What other men considered impossible, the nomads took for granted, and what the Tuigan considered impossible did not exist. Batu was thrilled to command even a small force of such troops. He could hardly wait until he led them into the main battle.
Jochibi returned with an extra mount. It was a black stallion with fiery eyes and barding covering its shoulders and flanks. Patting the horse's armor, the scar-cheeked warrior said, "Judging from the attacks on you so far, your horse is going to need all the protection it can get when we reach the front lines."
"No doubt," Batu said, climbing into the beast's gilded saddle. "Where did you get this?"
"It belonged to one of the khahan's sons," Jochibi replied. "He won't be needing it."
"Dead?"
Jochibi nodded. "He was in the point jagun."
Batu grimaced. That entire patrol had been wiped out by an enemy ambush. "You should of told me!" he snapped, anticipating the khahan's wrath.
Sensing Batu's thoughts, Jochibi shrugged. "There's no need for worry. Odelu died in battle," he said. "Besides, the khahan has many sons. If he blamed a general every time one fell in battle, there would be nobody left to command his armies."
Shaking his head, Batu said, "Let's see what's happening up front." He spurred Odelu's horse forward.
