David Cook - Horselords
The whirling sandstorm passed in no more than a few minutes. Even before the dust cleared, the thunderous crashes of rock died away. After the chaos that came before, everything now seemed still. Coughing and gagging, Koja struggled with his horse.
"It worked, priest! Better than you promised!" Yamun shouted. Koja turned and looked where the khahan pointed.
Ahead, where the Dragonwall had been, with its imposing gate and towering walls, was a gaping breach. The gatehouses were shattered, the heavy wooden doors in splinters. The towers had fallen away from the road, leaving the opening clear. At other points to the left and right, the wall was also breached, tumbled into rough piles.
Yamun barked out commands as he gestured toward points along the wall. "Standard-bearer, signal Chanar. He is to take the Kashik through the center. He will lead the attack! Hurry! Hurry, before they can recover!" Yamun yelled at the dazed khans around him, shouting them into motion.
It dawned on Koja that he stood in the path of two hundred thousand warriors. Quickly he tried to move his horse to the side, but there was no safe escape. He could either charge forward into battle or risk being trampled where he stood.
"Signal the khans to be ready!" Yamun ordered. The white yak tails dipped, giving the signal the warriors waited for. As the command was relayed through the army, the men of each tumen raised their war cry. Once again the air thundered with the voice of destruction.
"Attack!" shouted the khahan, nodding to the drummers.
The war drums sounded, signaling the Kashik to move. Chanar, for a second, reined in his horse, almost refusing to charge. The Kashik began to advance behind him anyway. Finally the general stood in his saddle and whipped his horse forward. The mount leaped into motion and behind it swept the black-robed mass of the Kashik, eight thousand strong. Before the first men had even reached the crumbled wall, Yamun was shouting orders for the other tumens to charge and whipped his own horse forward.
Yamun charged at full gallop, surrounded by his khans. Koja rode in their midst, dragged along by the wave of men around him.
In a moment the Tuigan reached the shattered gate; in another they poured through the breach. The Shou garrison that once manned the walls and filled the towers was shattered. Generals and troopers alike had been lost. Those who survived were already streaming back from the broken fortification, some forming ragged units of several thousand, many more fleeing the mounted doom that poured through the gaps. With a howl of triumph, the Tuigan horsemen swept down upon the routed enemy. The great battle of the Dragonwall was won before it had even begun.
Epilogue
Koja sipped on a cup of tea brewed in the Shou style. On his throne, Yamun drank the vile salted brew favored by the Tuigan. In front of the warlord was spread a map of the Mai Yuan province of Shou Lung, which had been found in the rubble of the gatetower. On it Koja had carefully marked the movements of Yamun's scouts in broad, red arrows. They fanned out from a single point on the Shou frontier, reaching like fingers into the interior. The scouts had been riding for many days, some harrying the fleeing enemy and others shadowing the small garrisons that were now on the move. The scope of the Tuigan success had come as a surprise to the khahan, and, Koja suspected, to the Shou emperor, too.
"Yamun," Koja asked, as he blew the steam off his cup, "what will you do now? Continue the invasion?"
Yamun looked up from slurping his tea. "First we'll wait for Hubadai and his men. Then we must fatten the horses. When this is done, I'll conquer Shou Lung," Yamun answered confidently.
The priest didn't doubt the khahan's resolve. Already Yamun had done more than Koja thought was possible. "Shou Lung is huge, Khahan. You do not have the men to rule all of this land."
"Before I worry about ruling it, I must conquer it," Yamun pointed out. "Besides, I have men like you to manage my empire." The khahan rolled up the map. "Now, there is business to attend to." The khahan set his tea aside and called to the quiverbearer near the door. "Bring the prisoners in."
The man quickly stepped outside. There were a few muffled commands and then the door flap was pulled open. Sechen, now a khan, and several Kashik entered the yurt and took positions by the walls. Immediately after came Chanar and Bayalun. The general was still dressed in the clothes he had worn into battle several days ago. They were dirty, bloodstained, and torn. Bayalun wore a simple brown and yellow robe. The sleeves were long, hiding the bonds on her wrists. On Koja's advice, the khadun's hands were bound to keep her from casting spells. The priest did not see any need to gag her. Both conspirators moved slowly, reluctantly. They obviously dreaded this audience.
The guards led the pair to the center of the yurt and roughly pushed them down to their knees. Chanar kept his eyes to the floor, but Bayalun glared venomously at her stepson.
Yamun rose from his throne and slowly circled the two. Finally, he spoke in solemn tones. "You've been proven guilty of treachery against your khahan. Now, I must give my final judgment." At this Chanar raised his head, stubbornly ready to meet whatever doom Yamun might name.
"By law," Yamun continued, "you should be taken into the wilderness and strangled. This would satisfy the ancient codes of our people." He paused and let the prisoners think about their fate.
With a heavy sigh, the khahan continued. "I'll not do this." Yamun stopped at his scribe's table and motioned for the man to write down his words. "General Chanar, I've not forgotten the battles where you stood at my side when all were ready to run. My anda, once I swore that I would forgive your crimes though they were nine times nine. This I have done. General Chanar, I let you live. But you will no longer command the tumens of the Tuigan. I banish you from my sight, to the command of a minghan of scouts." The pained look on the general's face told everyone that he considered that fate worse than death.
Yamun looked down at the scribe, who was furiously writing. "A jagun of troops are to be Chanar's guard. If any evidence of further treachery comes to my attention, Chanar will be put to death." The khahan turned to his once-loyal friend. "Perhaps you may work your way back to a command, but do not think to cross me again."
The khahan scowled as he turned to his stepmother. "Bayalun Khadun, you've done much and deserve a painful, long death." The woman stiffened. "However, I have no guarantee that death will end your plotting. Your sorcerous powers could strike from beyond the grave. At the suggestion of my anda, you are to retire from worldly life and renounce your claim to the title khadun. Your guards are disbanded. You will spend the rest of your days in the magic-deadlands of Quaraband. Sechen Khan is your jailor. Do you object to this, Mother?"
Bayalun paled. Yamun's sentence was as good as death. However, Bayalun knew that any protests would be futile. "No," she whispered. "I welcome a fate that removes you from my sight."
"Then let all those who oppose these orders know that they are by the khahan's will." Yamun said. "Get them out of my sight. Sechen, see that the orders are carried out." As the two were led out, Yamun scooped himself a ladleful of kumiss. He stood breathing deeply, letting the anger flow out of him. "What do you want to ask, Koja?" he suddenly inquired, seeing the priest still quietly sitting in the corner.
Koja looked at Yamun in embarrassed surprise. Bowing his head to hide his reddened face, the priest finally spoke. "Yamun, I do not understand why you let Chanar and Bayalun live. It is commendable in the eyes of the Enlightened One, but it is very dangerous, isn't it?"
Yamun set down his cup and rested his chin on his hand. "I've given it much thought. For Bayalun, loss of her magic is a horrible fate."
"What about Chanar?" Koja asked, setting his own cup of tea aside.
"Chanar is my anda," Yamun answered sadly. "I cannot change that, so I cannot kill him. Once, he loved me." He looked away from the priest. Koja sat quietly, waiting for Yamun to continue.
"He'll have a small command, somewhere my Kashik can easily watch him. Chanar is ambitious, but not that clever. Bayalun was the one behind these plots." The khahan picked up his tea once more and sank back onto his throne.
"What will you do now, Khazari?" Yamun finally asked. "Will you stay with me or go back and be a priest?"
Koja rubbed his itching scalp. The stubble on his pate was getting long enough to irritate. Ruefully, he sighed. "Do not call me Khazari. I know I am no longer that. I might not be priest much longer either. I have not served Furo well. I fear the temple will not have me anymore." He forced a wistful smile, thinking of what he had lost.
"If neither your country nor your god want you, anda, who will you serve?" Yamun asked, although he already knew the answer.
Koja took a large swallow of tea. "You, my anda. If you will let me stay."
"You can become Tuigan," the khahan offered. He set his cup aside and waited expectantly for the priest's answer. "Watch me conquer Shou Lung. Write your history so that all the world will know of my greatness."
Koja looked at the khahan. It was impossible to ignore the hard, sure confidence in his eyes. Shou Lung was huge, its armies were numerous, but this time the priest did not doubt Yamun's words.
"Yes," Koja said after a while. "The world will certainly come to know your greatness."
