'What did it see?'
'The woman who had been its wife.'
'Is that it?'
'Yes. Is that helpful?'
'I don't know,' said Tenaka. 'It may be.'
'Then I shall leave you,' said Aulin. 'I shall return to the Grey.'
Tenaka watched him shuffle away into the mist. Then he stood and turned as Ulric stepped forward.
'The war has already begun,' said the Khan. 'You will not arrive in time to save your friends.'
'Then I shall be in time to avenge them,' answered Tenaka.
'What was the old man trying to tell you about the Fall?'
'I don't know — something about ice spinning. It wasn't important,' said Tenaka
The old shaman bade Tenaka sit down and the new Khan obeyed. His eyes closed. When he opened them, he was sitting before the tomb as before, watched by the massed ranks of Nadir generals. To his left lay Shirrat Knifespeaks — his chest ripped apart, blood staining the dust. To his right was Saddleskull, a small trickle of blood on his temple. Before him was the helm of Ulric.
Asta Khan stood and turned to the generals.
'It is over and it has begun. Tenaka Khan rules the Wolves.'
The old man took the helm, returned to the brazier, swept up his cloak of ragged skins and walked from the camp. Tenaka remained where he was, scanning the faces before him and sensing the hostility. These were men prepared for war, supporters of Knifespeaks or Saddleskull. Not one man among them had considered Tenaka as Khan. Now they had a new leader and from this moment on Tenaka would need to walk with extreme care. His food would have to be tasted… his tent guarded. Among the men before him would be many who would desire his death.
And swiftly!
It was easy to become a Khan. The real trick lay in staying alive thereafter.
A movement in the ranks caught his eye and Ingis rose and walked towards him. Taking his sword from its scabbard and reversing the blade, he handed it hilt-first to Tenaka.
'I become your man,' said Ingis kneeling.
'Welcome, warrior. How may brothers do you bring?'
'Twenty thousand.'
'It is good,' said the Khan.
And one by one the generals trooped forward. It was dawn before the last backed away and Ingis approached once more.
'The families of Saddleskull and Knifespeaks have been taken. They are being held near your campsite.'
Tenaka rose and stretched. He was cold, and very tired. With Ingis beside him, he walked from the tomb.
A great crowd had assembled to watch the deaths of the prisoners. Tenaka looked at the captives as they knelt in silent ranks, their arms tied behind them. There were twenty-two women, six men and a dozen boy-children.
Subodai came forward. 'You wish to kill them yourself?'
'No.'
'Gitasi and I will do it then,' he said with relish.
'No.' Tenaka walked on, leaving Subodai baffled and surprised.
The new Khan halted before the women, the wives of the dead warlords.'
'I did not kill your husbands,' he told them. 'There was no blood feud between us. Yet I inherit their property. So be it! You were part of that property and I name you as wives of Tenaka Khan. Release them!' he ordered.
Muttering under his breath, Subodai moved along the line. A young woman ran forward as he freed her and threw herself at Tenaka's feet.
'If I am truly your wife, then what of my son?'
'Release the children also,' said Tenaka.
Only the six men remained now, close relatives of the dead warlords.
'This is a new day,' Tenaka told them. 'I give you this choice. Promise you serve me and you live. Refuse and you die!'
'I spit on you, half-blood,' shouted one man. Tenaka stepped forward, held out his hand for Subodai's sword and with one sweep severed the man's neck.
Not one of the five remaining prisoners spoke, and Tenaka moved along the line, killing them all. He called Ingis to him and the two men sat quietly in the shadows of the tent.
There they stayed for three hours while the Khan outlined his plans. Then Tenaka slept.
And while he slept twenty men ringed his tent, swords in hand.
20
Parsal continued to crawl, dragging himself through the long grass. The pain from his mutilated leg had faded from the searing agony of the previous afternoon to a throbbing ache which occasionally flared, causing him to lose consciousness. The night was cool, but Parsal was sweating freely. He no longer knew where he was going, only that he had to put as great a distance between himself and the horror as he could.
He crawled over an area of earth pitted with pebbles, and a sharp stone dug into his leg. Groaning, he rolled over.
Ananais had told them to hold on for as long as they could, then to draw back and make for Maga-don. He had then gone to another valley with Galand. The events of the afternoon kept flooding Parsal's mind and he could not push them away. . With four hundred men he had waited in a tiny pass. The cavalry had come first, thundering up the incline with lances levelled. Parsal's archers had cut them to pieces. The infantry were harder to repel, well-armoured and with their round bronze shields held high. Parsal had never been the swordsman his brother was but, by all the gods, he had given a good account of himself!
The Skoda men had fought like tigers and Ceska's infantry were forced back. That was the point when he should have ordered his men to withdraw.
Foolish, foolish man! '
But he had been so uplifted. So proud! Never in his life had he led a fighting force. He had been turned down for the Dragon, while his brother had been accepted. Now he had repelled a mighty enemy.
And he waited for one more attack.
The Joinings had surged forward like demons of the pit. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget that charge. The beasts sent up a terrifying wall of sound, howling their blood-lust as they ran. Giant monsters with slavering maws and blood-red eyes, sharp talons and bright, bright swords.
Arrows scarce pierced their flesh and they swept aside the fighting men of Skoda as a grown man scatters unruly children.
Parsal gave no order to run — it was unnecessary. The Skoda courage vanished like water on sand and the force scattered. In his anguish Parsal ran at a Joining, aiming a mighty blow for the beast's head, but his sword bounced from the thick skull and the creature turned on him. Parsal was thrown back and the Joining dived, its great jaws closing on Parsal's left leg and ripping the flesh from the bone. A gallant Skoda fighter leapt to the beast's back, driving a long dagger into its neck; it turned away from Parsal to rip the throat from the warrior. Parsal rolled clear over a rise and tumbled down and down into the valley. And so his long crawl began.
He knew now that there was no victory for the Skoda men. Their dreams were folly. Nothing could stand against the Joining. He wished he had stayed on his farm in Vagria, far away from this insane war.
Something seized his leg and he sat up, waving a dagger. A taloned arm smashed it from his grip and three Joinings squatted around him — their eyes gleaming, saliva dripping from open maws.
Mercifully he blacked out.
And the feeding began.
Pagan edged forward until he was less than one hundred yards from.the western quarter of the city. His horse was hidden in the woods behind him. Smoke from the burning buildings was swirling like mist and it was hard to see for any distance. Bodies were being dragged from the city by groups of Joinings, and the feast started in the meadows beyond. Pagan had never seen the beasts before and he watched them in grim fascination. Most were over seven feet tall and mightily muscled.
Pagan was at a loss. He had a message for Ananais from Scaler — but where would he now deliver it? Was the dark-masked warrior still alive? Was the war over? If it was, then Pagan must change his plan. He had sworn to kill Ceska and he was not a man to take an oath lightly. Somewhere among this army was the tent of the emporer — all he had to do was find it and gut the son of a whore.