as to challenge his brother in the camp, with a vast army at his call. Yet the man watched him like a snake ready to strike and Khasar wondered if it had been chance that put the brothers and the wild stallion in his path that morning. There would always be those willing to test men who presumed to lead them in war. Khasar shook his head to clear it. Kachiun enjoyed politics and manoeuvring, but he had no taste for it, nor for the posturing of the khan and his sons.
‘I will not spill blood here,’ he began, seeing the triumph in the khan’s eyes, ‘but I will not need my brother’s shadow.’ As he spoke, he slammed his fist into the chin of the nearest brother, knocking him cold. The others roared and leaped at him almost as one. Blows rained on his head and shoulders as he moved backwards, then braced his legs and struck hard into a face, feeling the nose break. Khasar enjoyed fighting as much as any man who had grown up amongst brothers, but the odds were impossible and he almost went down as his head was snapped back and hard thumping blows crashed against his armour. At least he was protected there and as long as he remained on his feet, he could duck and slip their punches while hammering back at them with everything he had.
Even as he formed the thought, one of them took him around the waist and dumped him on the ground. Khasar kicked out hard, hearing a yelp as he covered his head against their stamping boots. Where was Kachiun, by the spirits? Khasar could feel blood pouring from his nose and his lips had begun to swell. His head was ringing from a kick to his right ear. Much more of this and he would be permanently injured.
He felt the weight of one of them straddling him, trying to pull Khasar’s arms away from his face. Khasar peered through a gap at the man. He chose his moment and shoved a thumb hard into his attacker’s eye. It seemed to give under his strike, and he hoped he had blinded him. The Woyela son rolled off with a cry and, if anything, the kicks intensified.
A shout of pain came from somewhere close and, for a moment, Khasar was left alone to try to get to his feet. He saw a stranger had leaped among the Woyela brothers, knocking one to the ground and kicking another hard in the knee. The newcomer was little more than a boy, but he could punch with all his weight behind a blow. Khasar smiled at him through broken lips, but he was too dazed to rise.
‘Stop this!’ ordered a voice behind him and Khasar knew a moment of hope before he realised Temuge had not arrived with a dozen men to help him. His younger brother ran straight up to the struggling mass and heaved one of the Woyela men away.
‘Get Kachiun,’ Khasar shouted, his heart sinking. Temuge would accomplish nothing but getting himself beaten and then there would be blood. Genghis might accept one brother fighting, but a second would be a personal attack on his family too great to ignore. The khan of the Woyela seemed oblivious to the danger and Khasar heard him laugh as one of his sons smashed a fist into Temuge’s face, knocking him to his knees. The young stranger too had lost the advantage of surprise and he was suffering under a rain of kicks and punches. The Woyela sons were laughing as they transferred their efforts to the two newcomers and Khasar raged to hear Temuge cry out in pain and humiliation, fending off their kicks as he struggled to rise.
Another sound came then, a series of hard cracks that had the sons of the Woyela yelping and falling back. Khasar continued to protect his head on the ground until he heard Kachiun’s voice, tight with fury. He had brought men with him and it had been their sticks Khasar had heard.
‘Stand, if you can, brother. Tell me who you want dead,’ Kachiun snapped to Khasar. As Khasar lowered his hands, he spat red phlegm onto the grass and levered himself to his feet. His face was a mass of bruising and blood and the khan of the Woyela stiffened at the sight, his amusement fading.
‘This was a private matter,’ the khan said quickly as Kachiun glared at him. ‘Your brother claimed no formal rank.’
Kachiun looked at Khasar, who shrugged, wincing as his bruised body protested.
Temuge too had regained his feet, looking as pale as milk. His eyes were cold and his shame made him angrier than Khasar or Kachiun had ever seen him. The third man straightened painfully and Khasar nodded to him in thanks. He too had been battered, but he grinned infectiously as he rested his hands on his knees and panted.
‘Be careful,’ Kachiun murmured to his brothers, barely loud enough to hear. He had brought a bare dozen of his workers, all he could grab when he heard of the fight. They would last only moments before the armed men of the Woyela. Hard eyes in the crowd watched the scene and the khan regained some of his confidence.
‘Honour has been satisfied,’ he declared. ‘There is no grudge between us.’ He turned to Khasar to see how his words had been received. Khasar stood smiling crookedly. He had heard the sound of marching feet coming closer. All of those who stood there stiffened in alarm at the jingling approach of armoured warriors. It could only be Genghis.
‘There is no grudge?’ Kachiun hissed at the khan. ‘That is not for you to decide, Woyela.’
All eyes turned to see Genghis coming. He walked with Arslan and five other men in full armour. All carried drawn blades and the Woyela sons glanced at each other in dawning worry at what they had done. They had talked of testing one of the brothers of Genghis and that part had gone beautifully. Only the arrival of Temuge had dragged them into deeper water and none of them knew how it would be resolved.
Genghis took in the scene, his face a mask. His gaze lingered on Temuge and, for a moment, the yellow eyes tightened at the sight of his little brother’s trembling hands. The khan of the Woyela spoke before anyone else.
‘This is already settled, lord,’ he said. ‘It was merely a diversion, a fight over a horse.’ He swallowed dryly. ‘There is no need for you to rule on this.’
Genghis ignored him.
‘Kachiun?’
Kachiun controlled his anger to reply in a calm voice.
‘I do not know what started it. Khasar can tell you that.’
Khasar winced at hearing his name. Under Genghis’ stare, he considered his words carefully. The entire camp would hear eventually and he could not be seen to complain like a child to his father. Not if he expected to lead them in war afterwards.
‘I am satisfied with my part in this, brother,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘If I have need to discuss it further with these men, I will do so on another day.’
‘You will not,’ Genghis snapped, understanding the implied threat as well as the Woyela sons did themselves. ‘I forbid it.’
Khasar bowed his head.
‘As you say, lord,’ he replied.
Genghis looked at Temuge, seeing the shame at his public beating, coupled with the bright rage that had surprised Khasar and Kachiun before.
‘You too are marked, Temuge. I cannot believe you were part of this.’
‘He tried to stop it,’ Kachiun replied. ‘They knocked him to his knees and …’
‘Enough!’ Temuge snapped. ‘In time, I will return every blow.’ Blushing red, he seemed close to tears, like a child. Genghis stared at him and his own anger suddenly broke free. With a grunt, he shook his head and strode through the brothers of the Woyela. One of them was too slow and Genghis barged him down with his shoulder, barely seeming to feel the impact. The khan raised his hands in a plea, but Genghis grabbed his deel and yanked him forward. As he unsheathed his sword, the Woyela warriors drew their own in a rasp of metal.
‘Hold!’
