The Mongoliad Book Three

“An opportunity for what?”

 

 

“The Torguud captain—Namkhai—is a very large man,” Alchiq said. He held up his fist, showing it to Haakon. “He has a big hand, yes?”

 

Haakon raised a hand and touched his bruised cheek. “Big hand,” he echoed.

 

Alchiq walked up to the cage, his hand still clenched in a fist. “I know you, Skjaldbr?eur.” He opened his hand and slapped the bars of the cage, grinning at Haakon’s reaction.

 

Alchiq gestured for Gansukh to follow him, and when Gansukh opened his mouth to ask a question, Alchiq shook his head. The gray-haired man waited until they had passed the last cage before he spoke. “The boy listens too intently,” he said by way of explanation. “He spies on us from his cage.”

 

“That word you said. Skold—”

 

“Skjaldbr?eur,” Alchiq corrected.

 

“What does it mean?”

 

“How long did Kozelsk hold Batu Khan at bay?” Alchiq asked, seeming to not hear Gansukh’s question. “Seven weeks?”

 

“Something like that,” Gansukh replied, somewhat flustered by the change in topic. “I don’t recall exactly.”

 

“And how many experienced fighters did that city have? Once the gates were open, how many hardened warriors did we find?” He poked Gansukh in the chest. “How many did you kill?”

 

Gansukh rolled his tongue around his mouth. “A handful,” he lied.

 

Alchiq pursed his lips. “A handful? Batu let his army raze the city so that the West would know his anger at being denied, but the damage was done. There was a tiny garrison in that city, and the rest were old men, women, and children. They held off the entire might of the Khagan’s army for nearly two moons. Batu sent word back to Karakorum that he needed more men, that the West was so bountiful that his army could not carry all the wealth they were plundering. But that wasn’t the truth, was it? The armies of the empire had gotten soft. They had become accustomed to their enemies running in fear when they saw the banners of the Mongol Empire. Subutai recognized the danger, but Batu did not. The other Khans did not.” Alchiq jerked his head in the direction of Haakon’s cage. “There are others like him. Other Skjaldbr?eur. They will not yield to us. They will never stop fighting us.”

 

“You’ve fought them,” Gansukh said, realizing Alchiq had answered his previous question in a roundabout way.

 

Alchiq nodded. “Ten of them took on an entire jaghun. They lost one man. I killed him. I snuck up on him and broke him when he was collecting water.” He let out a short laugh that was void of any humor. “And then I ran.”

 

“There is no shame in that,” Gansukh said.

 

“I was not seeking your approval, boy.” Alchiq poked Gansukh in the chest again.

 

Gansukh caught Alchiq’s finger and pushed his hand away. “I wasn’t offering any,” he snapped.

 

Alchiq brayed with laughter, and he slapped Gansukh with good humor on the arm. “Try not to confuse your enemies with your friends, young pony,” he said. “I spent many years being angry at the wrong people, and now those years are gone. What do I have to show for it?”

 

Gansukh recalled the disarray in his ger, and his irritation subsided. “My apologies, venerable goat,” he said, his tone only slightly mocking.

 

“The Khagan begins his hunt in the morning,” Alchiq said. “You and I will be joining him. We must be wary of being hunted ourselves.”

 

“Of course,” Gansukh nodded. “It would be an honor to join you.” Internally, his guts tightened. Hunted. If he hadn’t dealt with Munokhoi by then, he would be leaving Lian unprotected. He had to warn her.

 

It was only some time later that he realized Alchiq had been talking about something else entirely.

 

 

 

 

 

I will kill them both—pony and goat.

 

Munokhoi sat cross-legged in his ger, calmly chewing on a slice of salted meat. His mind was restless, buzzing with plans and ideas. In a metal brazier, a tiny flame danced, the only illumination in his ger. Shadows danced all around, a capering festival of spooky figures that moved in accordance with the shivering delight Munokhoi felt inside.

 

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