Wolf of the Plains. Conn Iggulden

the reins of one dark rider.

      ‘Basan, you ride to the Olkhun’ut, and find the truth of this.’

      ‘Is it war, then?’ the man answered.

      ‘Perhaps. Tell them that if you are not allowed to leave freely, we will be riding behind you and I will see their gers burnt to ashes.’

      The warrior nodded and trotted away, the drumbeat of hooves fading quickly in the night.

      Yesugei groaned and opened his eyes, feeling a sudden panic at the shadows moving around him.

      ‘Eeluk?’ he whispered.

      Eeluk crouched at his side. ‘I am here, my Khan.’

      They waited for another word, but Yesugei had passed back into unconsciousness. Eeluk grimaced.

      ‘We must get him back to have his wound tended. Step away, boy; there’s nothing you can do for him here.’

      Bekter stood stunned, unable to comprehend that it was his father lying helpless at his feet.

      ‘He fell,’ he said again, as if dazed. ‘Is he dying?’

      Eeluk looked down at the slumped man he had followed all his adult life. As gently as he could, he took Yesugei under the armpits and heaved him onto his shoulder. The khan was a powerful man, made even heavier in chain mail, but Eeluk was strong and he showed no sign of discomfort.

      ‘Help me to mount, Bekter. He’s not dead yet and we must get him to warmth. A night out here will finish it.’ A thought struck him as he draped Yesugei over his saddle, the long limp arms reaching almost to the ground. ‘Where is his sword?’ he asked. ‘Can you see it?’

      ‘No, it must have fallen when he did.’

      Eeluk sighed as he mounted. He had not had a chance to think about what was happening. He could feel the blood warmth of Yesugei against his chest as he leaned forward to speak to the son.

      ‘Mark the spot somehow, so you can find it again in the light. He won’t thank you for losing his father’s blade.’

      Bekter turned without thinking to another one of his father’s bondsmen, standing nearby in shock at what he was witnessing.

      ‘You will stay, Unegen. I must return to the gers with my father. Search in circles as soon as you can see, and bring the blade to me when you find it.’

      ‘I will do as you say,’ Unegen replied in the darkness.

      Bekter moved to his pony to mount and did not see Eeluk’s expression as he considered the exchange. The world was changing in those moments and Eeluk did not know what the day would bring for any of them.

      Hoelun wiped tears from her eyes as she faced her husband’s bondsmen. The men and women of the Wolves had come, hungry for news, as soon as word spread of the khan’s injury. She wished she had something more to tell them, but Yesugei had not woken again and he lay inside the ger in the cool shadows, his skin burning. Not one of them had stirred from their watch as the day wore on and the sun rose high above their heads.

      ‘He still lives,’ she said. ‘I have cleaned his wound, but he has not yet woken.’

      Eeluk nodded and she could not miss how the other warriors looked to him. Kachiun and Temuge were there with Khasar, standing shocked and pale after seeing their father helpless. Yesugei seemed smaller under the blankets, his weakness frightening his sons more than anything they had ever known. He had been such a force in their lives, it did not seem possible that he might never wake. She feared for them all, though she did not mention it aloud. Without Yesugei to protect them, she saw the glint of greed in the eyes of the other men. Eeluk in particular seemed to be hiding a smile when he spoke to her, though his words were deliberately courteous.

      ‘I will tell you if he wakes,’ she told the warriors, ducking back into the ger, away from their cold interest. Her daughter, Temulun, was in the cradle there, crying to be changed. The sound seemed to match the screaming voice inside her that she barely held in check. She could not give way to it, not while her sons needed her.

      Temuge had come with her into the ger, his small mouth quivering in grief. Hoelun gathered him into her arms and shushed his tears, though her own started just as strongly. They wept together at Yesugei’s side and she knew the khan could not hear them.

      ‘What will happen if he does not live?’ Temuge asked.

      She might have answered, but the door creaked open and Eeluk entered. Hoelun felt a grip of hot anger to have been seen at such a moment and she wiped fiercely at her eyes.

      ‘I have sent your other sons to the herds for the day, to keep their minds off their father,’ Eeluk said.

      It may have been her imagination, but again she thought she saw a gleam of satisfaction as he looked at Yesugei’s still form, quickly masked.

      ‘You have been strong when the tribe needed it, Eeluk,’ she said. ‘My husband will thank you himself when he wakes.’

      Eeluk nodded as if he had barely heard, crossing the ger to where Yesugei lay. He reached down to press his hand against the khan’s forehead, whistling softly at the heat there. He sniffed at the wound and she knew he could smell the corruption that tainted the flesh.

      ‘I poured boiling spirits into the wound,’ Hoelun said. ‘I have herbs to ease the fever.’ She felt she had to speak, just to break the silence. Eeluk seemed to have changed in subtle ways since Yesugei had come back. He walked with a little more of a swagger with the men and his eyes challenged her whenever she spoke. She felt the need to mention Yesugei every time they talked, as if his name would keep him in the world. The alternative was too frightening to consider and she did not dare look to the future. Yesugei had to live.

      ‘My family has been bound to his from birth,’ Eeluk said softly. ‘I have always been loyal.’

      ‘He knows it, Eeluk. I’m sure he can hear you now and he knows you are first among his men.’

      ‘Unless he dies,’ Eeluk said softly, turning to her. ‘If he dies, my vows are ended.’

      Hoelun looked at him in sick horror. While the words remained unsaid, the world could go on and she could hold back the fear. She dreaded him speaking again for what he might dare to say.

      ‘He will survive this, Eeluk,’ she said. Her voice quavered, betraying her. ‘The fever will pass and he will know you remained loyal to him when it mattered most.’

      Something seemed to break through to her husband’s bondsman and he shook himself, the guarded look in his eyes disappearing.

      ‘Yes. It is too early still,’ he said, looking down at Yesugei’s pale face and chest. The bandages were stained with dark blood and he touched them, coming away with a red smear on his fingers. ‘Still, I have a loyalty to the families. They must be kept strong. I must think of the Wolves, and the days to come,’ he said, as if to himself.

      Hoelun could hardly draw breath as the certainties of her life came crashing down. She thought of her sons and couldn’t bear the calculating expression on Eeluk’s face. They were innocent and they would suffer.

      Eeluk left without another word, as if the courtesies no longer mattered to him. Perhaps they did not. She had seen the naked desire for power in his face and there was no taking it back. Even if Yesugei sprang healed from the bed, she did not think things would be the same again, now that Eeluk had woken his heart.

      She heard Temuge sob and opened her arms to him once more, taking comfort from his desperate clasp. Her daughter cried in the cot, untended.

      ‘What will happen to us?’ the little boy sobbed.

      Hoelun shook her head as she cradled him. She did not know.

      Bekter saw the warrior he had left to look for his father’s sword. The man was walking quickly through the gers with his head down in thought. Bekter hailed him, but he did not