The Mongoliad: Book Three

Knight’s spear pierced the throat of his opponent with a well-aimed thrust; he folded the man in half with a powerful kick to the abdomen, and then proceeded to leap over the collapsing man to smash through the guard of a second Mongol, who screamed as Kim’s blade cut through his arm and lodged in his chest.

On Zug’s left, Lakshaman parried a spear thrust with his sword, cutting at the guard’s hands as the weapon went past him. The stroke took too long, and he didn’t get his sword around in time to block the thrust from a second man. He let out a low grunt as the spear point entered his right shoulder. As Zug watched, Lakshaman grabbed the shaft of the spear and wrenched the spear-wielding Mongol closer to him. He rammed his blade through the man, and as the Mongol died, he let go of his sword and pulled the spear out of his shoulder. A hard cast knocked the remaining guard off his feet, and only then did Lakshaman retrieve his sword.

The last guard hesitated, and Zug glanced at the young Rose Knight standing next to him. Zug tilted his head toward the Mongol, and the boy grinned as he darted forward to engage this last guard.

Zug turned his attention to the Khan, but Lakshaman was already moving. The scarred fighter bounded to the top of one table, jumped between two divans, and then took an immense leap toward the reclining Khan. His sword was raised high above his head, and he let out an animalistic scream as he brought his sword down in a mighty swing.

The whore screamed, her voice a thin echo of Lakshaman’s cry, and there followed a muffled thud that caught everyone’s attention as Lakshaman’s sword buried itself deep within the mass of pillows and furs.

But not the body of Onghwe Khan.

Zug felt his sweat go cold on his brow. He had never seen a man move so fast.

Onghwe was standing now, a plain sword in his hand as if had been summoned by some arcane magic. The girl was still screaming, her lungs not yet having run out of air. Lakshaman was frozen, the muscles of his arms and back standing out in plain relief. Onghwe’s face was no longer soft and his eyes were bright and fierce. He swung his arm, and Lakshaman’s head, expression of surprise and disbelief permanently frozen on the scarred man’s face, separated from his body and bounced across the rugs, leaving bloody blotches as it rolled.

Onghwe smiled, and Zug found himself staring at the face of a tiger who had just cornered its prey. “Over these many years, I have enjoyed watching you suffer,” Onghwe said, shaking Lakshaman’s blood from his blade. “Time and again, I thought you would lie down and die, but you were like an incredibly stupid and faithful dog. You never gave up. No matter how badly I abused you or beat you or pushed to the brink of madness, you never quit. You two are, without a doubt, the most impressive specimens I have ever captured.”

He smiled and beckoned Zug and Kim to approach. “Come to me, my most faithful dogs. Your new friend too. You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Guiding the Empire

The first arrow pierced the man standing in front of Ogedei through the hollow of his throat. The arrow buried itself to its fletching, and to Ogedei it seemed as if the man had suddenly sprouted a white flower at the base of his neck. The hunter jerked, a spatter of blood erupting from his mouth, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he clawed frantically at the feathers and shaft sunk into his neck. The arrow, longer than any Ogedei had ever seen, protruded from the hunter’s back.

The second arrow punched through the skull of the man standing behind him, the broadhead point of the arrow sticking out of the man’s face below his left eye. This man was dead as he collapsed, his arms flopping forward as if attempting to embrace Ogedei as he fell.

Namkhai slammed into Ogedei, shoving him against his horse. Ogedei’s face was smashed against the horse’s flank, and his exclamation of surprise turned into a muffled sputter through a mouthful of horsehide. Ogedei heard the meaty thunk of another arrow hitting flesh and Namkhai grunted, and then the Torguud captain hauled him down to the ground.

One of the long arrows had gone through Namkhai’s left shoulder, and as soon as the Khagan was down on the ground, Namkhai reached over his shoulder and, gritting his teeth, snapped off the back half of the arrow.

The hunting party was in complete disarray. The Darkhat and the shaman were the only ones who had remained on their horses when they had reached the end of the valley. The rest of the party had dismounted while Alchiq and Gansukh had scrambled up the slope to investigate the entrance of the Great Bear’s cave. From the ground, Ogedei could only see a confusion of legs-of both men and horses-as the hidden archer continued to rain death down upon them.

“Spread out,” Namkhai shouted at the men. “Get to cover and find those archers!”

Archers? he thought dumbly, imagining a host of giants hurling these long arrows at the hunting party. He groveled on the ground, his legs shaking, and he would have stayed where he was, clutching the dry earth, if his horse hadn’t screamed and reared.

A shorter arrow stuck out from the animal’s neck, and as it staggered and swayed toward him, he was forced to move. The horse collapsed on its side, nearly pinning Namkhai to the ground. Ogedei froze for a moment, blinking in shock at the sight of the long arrow that suddenly sprouted from the ground beside his outstretched leg, and then Namkhai grabbed his sleeve unceremoniously and shoved him in the direction of a cluster of leafy bushes.

Ogedei scrambled as fast as he could on his hands and knees. He threw himself around the edge of the bushes, clawing at the dirt and dragging his legs quickly to reach shelter. There were two men already hiding behind the screen of bushes, and as Ogedei crawled behind them, one of them cried out and fell on his ass. A long- shafted arrow stuck out of his gut, and he whimpered pitifully as he tried to gather his courage to touch it.

A pair of Darkhat riders passed behind his position, guiding their horses with their legs as they fired their bows. Ogedei didn’t dare peek out to see what they were shooting at; he was relieved they were fighting back. Someone was shouting his name, but he couldn’t make out who it was with all the chaotic noise from the men and the horses.

“It hurts. I can’t feel my legs.” The wounded man tugged at his sleeve. “My Khan,” he moaned. “Help me.” There was a lot of blood, and as the wounded man struggled to sit up, Ogedei spotted more blood on the ground beneath him. The arrow had gone completely through the man’s body.

The other man tried to shush the wounded one, and his entreaties were cut short. The leaves of the bushes shivered, and the man jerked to the side, toppling into Ogedei. He writhed and wailed, and Ogedei took one look and shoved him away in horror.

The arrow had passed through the man’s face, from one side to the other. He couldn’t open his mouth very far, and his cries quickly became a choking gurgle as his mouth and throat filled up with blood.

The bushes offered no shelter against the long arrows. Ogedei might as well be standing in the middle of an open field.

They crouched behind the crucified bear, able to see the devastation wreaked by the long arrows below and still scan for the location from which the mysterious archer was shooting. Trying to track the arrows, Gansukh watched as the assassin-with deadly accuracy-slew three men. The Khagan was nearly hit several times before he managed to scramble into shelter, and each time, Gansukh felt his heart leap into his mouth.

“There,” Alchiq said, pointing to a clutch of boulders on the southern hillside.

Gansukh squinted at the rocks, trying to ascertain the distance. “That’s too far-” he started. His argument was cut short as he saw movement behind the rocks. A man stood, his bowstring drawn back to his ear. He loosed his arrow and vanished again. Gansukh tried to make sense of what he had seen: the bow had been nearly as tall as the man.

The arrow arced across the valley, seeming to gain speed as it plummeted toward the ground. It flashed