Munokhoi howled as Gansukh ground his thumb into the open wound. Gansukh bucked again, and Munokhoi’s weight lessened on his chest. Gansukh heaved, rolling onto his side, finally throwing Munokhoi off.
He scrambled for his knife, found it, and then lunged after Munokhoi. As Gansukh charged, Munokhoi braced his hands against the ground and lashed out with a foot, but Gansukh twisted his body enough so that the foot struck him on the shoulder instead of the face. He grabbed at the leg, shoving it to one side so that he could more readily stab at the other man’s stomach with his knife.
Munokhoi brought his other leg up, attempting to trap Gansukh between his thighs. He batted Gansukh’s outstretched hand aside, and as the pair collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs, he began to squeeze with his legs.
Gansukh struggled to free himself. Munokhoi’s legs were constricting his range of motion-one of his arms was pinned at his side-and he was going to have trouble defending himself from Munokhoi’s blade. Gansukh lashed out blindly with his knife, feeling the blade cut fabric and flesh. Munokhoi grunted, and his legs loosened. As Gansukh scrambled out of Munokhoi’s grip, he kept slashing with his blade. Munokhoi began kicking, and Gansukh retreated before one of the other man’s boots connected with his face. There was blood on his knife and on his hand.
Munokhoi rolled away too, using the motion to propel himself into a crouch and from there to an upright position. He favored his left leg, and there was a bright wash of blood running down the side of his pants. Munokhoi’s gaze was charged with feral rage, his mouth contorted into a savage grimace. He stood ready to fight, oblivious to the wounds he had received.
Gansukh had seen this blindness to injury before. Men who refused to lie down and die, no matter how many arrows stuck out of their bodies or how many times they had been stabbed or cut. He had even heard of a man who continued to fight with a severed arm until his heart had pumped nearly all of the blood out of his body.
He wasn’t surprised that Munokhoi would be filled with this invincible bloodlust. In fact, he was prepared to call upon it himself. After everything, Munokhoi was not going to walk out of the forest. Gansukh was going to be the survivor of this fight. “You are nothing,” he hissed. “I will leave your corpse for the scavengers.”
Munokhoi’s response was a snarl of raw hatred and a lightning-fast lunge. Gansukh darted to the side, staying away from Munokhoi’s knife and keeping to the other man’s wounded side, but Munokhoi grabbed his left arm and tried to pull him close. He slashed at Munokhoi’s neck with his knife, and Munokhoi tumbled forward, shoving his shoulder. He stepped back, stumbling slightly, and Munokhoi slipped behind him, making ready to slit his throat like a sheep.
Gansukh contorted his body, trapping Munokhoi’s arm with his own. They were locked together now, each straining to overpower the other. Whoever lost control first would lose his life. Their faces reddened with anger and effort as they twisted in a macabre dance, trying to break each other’s hold. Trying to drive their knives deep into flesh. They were evenly matched, unable to gain the advantage while keeping the other’s knife at bay. Munokhoi slipped his arm over Gansukh’s wrist, attempting an arm lock, and Gansukh wriggled free and nearly managed to throw Munokhoi in return.
Munokhoi recovered and stabbed at Gansukh’s side, but there wasn’t enough speed or force to his blow, and Gansukh was able to stop the blow by grabbing Munokhoi’s wrist and pushing his hand away. Growling with frustration, Munokhoi hurled himself forward, thrusting with his chest. He snapped at Gansukh’s cheek with his teeth. Gansukh pulled his head back, and Munokhoi lurched farther up his chest, still straining to bite. He latched onto Gansukh’s ear, grinding his jaws together. He shook his head back and forth, like a dog worrying a piece of raw meat.
Gansukh felt blood flowing down his neck. He wanted to jerk his head away, but he knew if he did it would only increase Munokhoi’s blood rage. But letting Munokhoi gnaw on his flesh wasn’t helping either. He twisted his body, trying to slip his shoulder against Munokhoi’s chest, and he felt Munokhoi’s grip loosen on his right wrist.
The hand holding the knife.
Gansukh jerked his hand up, wrenching his wrist free of Munokhoi’s grasp, and he drove his blade swift and deep into Munokhoi’s neck.
Munokhoi shivered and jerked his head back. His jaw had locked, and he tore a piece of Gansukh’s earlobe free. Gansukh retaliated by yanking his blade forward and then pulling it back, tearing a deep slash across Munokhoi’s throat. Munokhoi started to choke, and when he spat the piece of Gansukh’s ear out, blood spattered from his mouth.
Gansukh tried to shove him away, but Munokhoi, eyes bright with spite, clung to him like a leech as he staggered and fell. Munokhoi coughed up a gout of blood when Gansukh landed on top of him, and he weakly tried to fend off Gansukh’s blade. Gansukh stabbed Munokhoi again and again-in the chest, in the neck. Blood flowed freely from the copious wounds, and Munokhoi’s motions became more and more feeble. His skin paled, his mouth went slack, and finally his eyes lost their mad gleam. Only when he no longer showed any reaction to being stabbed did Gansukh finally stop. Leaving his knife imbedded in Munokhoi’s chest, Gansukh slid off the dead body and crawled a short distance away. Bent over, he threw up again and again until the bloodlust was purged from his being.
At last the bloody work was done.
Late in the afternoon, the hunting party rested by a stream that gurgled happily along a rock-strewn course. The horses drank their fill and quietly nosed around, cropping the tender grasses that grew along the bank. Ogedei had been only too happy to get out of his saddle, and he moved a little stiffly as he walked back and forth along the river’s track.
Namkhai took the opportunity of this rest to check on his men, and he walked among them, making small talk and inquiring of what they had seen (or hadn’t, in the case of bear sign). Of all the host, only the old rider-Alchiq- didn’t dismount. He stayed in his saddle, quietly chewing on a piece of salted meat.
“Where’s Gansukh?” Namkhai asked.
Alchiq nodded past Namkhai’s shoulder, his expression unchanging, his mouth moving slowly around the jerky.
Namkhai turned and spotted Gansukh emerging from the forest. Ogedei’s young pony raised a hand in greeting when he saw Namkhai looking at him, and he angled his horse toward the two men. “Hai, Namkhai,” he said.
“Hai, Gansukh,” Namkhai said. “You fell behind.” He looked around and spotted the short shaman and his equally tiny pony. “Even the old wizard got here before you.”
“I saw a squirrel,” Gansukh offered as an explanation.
Namkhai stared at the young rider, considering what he saw. Gansukh sat stiffly in his saddle, and his clothing was rumpled and ill fitting. The left side of his face was turned away, a posture that seemed forced and awkward-as if he were hiding something from Namkhai’s view. Though he seemed both dazed and exhausted, his face was at ease, with a tiny satisfied smile. There was a blotch on his neck, a dark stain that hadn’t been completely wiped away.
“It was a very big squirrel,” he said in response to Namkhai’s quizzical eyebrow.
Namkhai nodded thoughtfully as he let his gaze roam over Gansukh’s mount. It was a darker color than he remembered, and both the saddle and the cloak bound to the cantle were much finer and less travel-stained than he would expect of a horse rider like Gansukh. “I do not like squirrels,” he said finally.
Alchiq chuckled, and then spat a chewed bit of meat on the ground. “Who does?” he said innocently. “Nasty rodents. That one will not be missed.”
Namkhai laughed. “No,” he said. “Not in the slightest.” He bowed his head to Gansukh once more. “That is a beautiful horse,” he said. “I suspect such an animal would cost… fifty cows or so. A suitable payment for outstanding debts, don’t you think?”
Gansukh patted the horse’s neck. “Suitable enough,” he said. “I am satisfied.”
“As am I,” Namkhai said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
