Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden

in blood, separated too long ago for anyone here to know. I claim a greater family of all tribes, a blood tie to you all. I call you as brothers to my standard and we will ride as one family, one nation.’ He paused, judging the response. They had heard the idea before, whispered in the gathering from tribe to tribe. Still, it shook them to hear it from him. The bulk of the men did not cheer and he had to crush a sudden spike of irritation. The spirits knew he loved them, but his own people were maddening at times.

      ‘We will pile spoils enough to equal the mountain at your backs. You will have ponies and wives and gold, oils and sweetmeats. You will take lands for your own and you will be feared wherever they hear your names. Every man here will be a khan to those who bow to him.’

      They cheered that, at least, and Genghis risked a small smile, pleased he had found the right tone. Let the lesser khans worry about the ambition of those around them. He meant every word of it.

      ‘To the south is the great desert,’ he called to them. Silence fell on the instant and he could feel their attention like a force. ‘We will cross it at a speed the Chin kingdoms cannot imagine. We will fall on the first of them like wolves on lambs and they will scatter before our swords and bows. I will give you their riches and their women for your own. That is where I will plant my standard and the ground will shake as I do. The earth mother will know her sons and brothers have found their inheritance and she will rejoice to hear thunder on the plains.’

      The cheering came again and Genghis raised his arms for quiet, though it pleased him.

      ‘We will ride into the dry country, taking all the water we need for one sudden strike. After that, we will not stop until the sea bounds us in every direction. I am Genghis who say this and my word is iron.’

      They roared in appreciation and Genghis snapped his fingers at Khasar, who stood waiting on the ground below. Khasar handed up a heavy pole of silver birch onto which eight horsetails had been tied. The crowd murmured as they saw it. Some recognised the black of the Merkit, or the red tail of the Naimans, bound with the others. Every one of them had been the khan’s standard for one of the great tribes and Genghis had them all on the plain. As he took the staff, Khasar handed up a horsetail dyed with Uighur blue.

      Barchuk’s eyes narrowed at this most potent of symbols, but with the host at his back, he was still filled with excitement and the vision of the future. As he felt Genghis’ eyes flicker over him, he bowed his head.

      With nimble fingers, Genghis bound the tip of the last horsetail to the others and planted the butt on the wood at his feet. The breeze caught the coloured standard, so that the tails whipped and twisted as if alive.

      ‘I have bound the colours,’ he called to them. ‘When they are bleached white, there will be no differences between them. They will be the standard of a nation.’

      At his feet, his officers raised their swords and the host responded, caught up in the moment. Thousands of weapons jabbed the sky and Genghis nodded to them, overwhelmed. It took a long time for the noise to end, though he held up his free hand and patted the air with it.

      ‘The oath you will take is binding, my brothers. Yet it is no stronger than the blood that binds us already. Kneel to me.’

      The front ranks dipped immediately and the rest followed in ripples outward as they saw what was happening. Genghis watched closely for hesitation, but there was none. He had them all.

      Kokchu climbed the steps back up to the cart, his expression carefully blank. In his wildest ambition, he had not dreamed of such a moment. Temuge had put in the word for him and Kokchu congratulated himself on bringing the young man to the point where he would make the suggestion.

      As the tribes knelt, Kokchu revelled in his status. He wondered if Genghis had considered he would be the only one amongst them who did not take the oath. Khasar, Kachiun and Temuge knelt on the grass with all the others, khans and warriors alike.

      ‘Under one khan, we are a nation,’ Kokchu called over their heads, his heart pounding in excitement. The words echoed back to him, filling the valley in waves as those behind repeated them. ‘The khan offers gers, horses, salt and blood, in all honour.’

      Kokchu gripped the railing of the cart as they chanted. After that night, they would all know the shaman to the great khan. He glanced upwards as the words came in surges from further and further back. Under those clear skies, the spirits would be writhing in wild and simple joy, unseen and unfelt by anyone but the most potent of his calling. In the chant of thousands, Kokchu sensed them swirling in the air and he exulted. At last, the tribes fell silent and he let out a long breath.

      ‘Now you, shaman,’ Genghis murmured at his back. Kokchu started in surprise, before falling to his knees and repeating the same oath.

      When Kokchu had rejoined the others around the cart, Genghis drew his father’s sword. For those who could see, his eyes glittered with satisfaction.

      ‘It is done. We are a nation and we will ride. Tonight, let no man think of his tribe and mourn. We are a greater family and all lands are ours to take.’

      He dropped his arm as they bellowed, this time as one. The smell of roasting mutton was strong on the breeze and his step was light as the warriors prepared for a night of drink and enough food to make their bellies swell. There would be a thousand children begun by drunken warriors before dawn. Genghis considered returning to Borte in his tent and masked the discomfort at the thought of her accusing eyes. She had done her duty to him, no man could deny it, but the paternity of Jochi remained a doubt, like a thorn in his skin.

      He shook his head to clear it of idle thoughts and accepted a skin of black airag from Kachiun. Tonight, he would drink himself to insensibility, as khan to all the tribes. In the morning, they would prepare to cross the dry lands of the Gobi Desert and walk the path he had chosen for them.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      The wind screamed around the carts, carrying a fine mist of sand that made the men and women spit constantly and wince at the grit in their food. Flies tormented them all, tasting the salt from their sweat and leaving red marks where they had bitten. During the day, the Uighurs had shown them how to protect their faces with cloth, leaving only their eyes to peer out at the bleak landscape, shimmering with heat. Those who wore armour found their helmets and neckpieces too hot to touch, but they did not complain.

      After a week, the army of Genghis climbed a range of rust-coloured hills to enter a vast plain of rippled dunes. Though they had hunted in the foothills, game had become rare as the heat increased. On the blistering sand, the only sign of life was tiny black scorpions scuttling away from their ponies and vanishing into holes. Time and again the carts became bogged down and had to be dug out in the full heat of the day. It was backbreaking work, but every hour lost was one that brought them closer to running out of water.

      They had filled thousands of bloated goatskins, tied with sinew and baked hard in the sun. With no other source, the supply dwindled visibly and, in the heat, many of the skins were found to have burst under the weight of the rest. They had carried only enough for twenty days and already twelve had passed. The warriors drank the blood of their mounts every second day, as well as a few cupfuls of warm, brackish water, but they were close to the edge of endurance and became dazed and listless, their lips dry enough to bleed.

      Genghis rode with his brothers at the head of the army, squinting into the glare for some sign of the mountains he had been told to expect. The Uighurs had traded deep into the desert and he depended on Barchuk to guide them. He frowned to himself as he considered the endless flat basin of rippled black and yellow, stretching all the way to the horizon. The heat of the day was the worst he had known, but his skin had darkened and his face was seamed in new lines of dirt and sand. He had almost been glad of the cold on the first night, until it grew so biting that the furs in the gers gave little protection. The Uighurs had shown the other tribesmen how to