Tags:
Biographical fiction,
Fiction,
Historical fiction,
General,
Historical,
Historical - General,
Fiction - Historical,
Asia,
History,
Epic Fiction,
English Historical Fiction,
Genghis Khan,
Mongols - History,
Warriors,
Mongols - Kings and rulers,
Betrayal,
Kings and rulers,
Mongols,
Mongolia,
Conquerors
to the rock as the wind grew in force, tugging at him. It also helped to imagine Bekter’s irritation if Temujin reached the top first.
A gust made his stomach drop with a sudden feeling that he would be plucked and thrown from the high rock, smashing into the ground by Temuge. He found that his fingers were shaking with each new grip, the first sign of weakness. He took strength from his anger and went on.
It was hard to guess how far he had come, but Temuge and the ponies were only specks below and his arms and legs burned with effort. Temujin came to a ridge where he could stand out of the wind and gasped there, recovering. He could see no way to go farther at first, and craned around a shelf of rock. He would surely not be stuck there while the others found easier routes up? Only Kachiun was a better climber and Temujin knew he should take time to rest his aching muscles. He took a deep breath of the warm air, enjoying the view for miles around. He felt as if he could see all the way to the gers of their tribe and wondered if Hoelun had given birth. Surely many hours had passed since they had arrived at the red hill?
“Are you stuck?” he heard above him.
Temujin swore aloud as he saw Kachiun’s face peering over the ledge. The boy met his gaze with the beginnings of a smile crinkling his eyes. Temujin shuffled along the ledge until he grasped a decent handhold. He had to hope it would lead to another above. With Kachiun looking on, he controlled his breathing and showed the cold face of the warrior. He had to jump up to reach for a second grip, and, for a moment, fear overwhelmed him. On the ground it would have been nothing, but on the ground he would have fallen only a little way. With the wind moaning around the crags, Temujin did not dare think of the emptiness at his back.
His arms and legs blurred as he shoved himself up by sheer strength and energy. To stop moving was to begin to fall, and Temujin roared as he made it to where Kachiun was kneeling, calmly watching his progress.
“Ha! Khans of the mountain do not get stuck,” he told Kachiun, triumphantly.
His brother digested this in silence.
“The hill breaks apart just above us,” he said. “Bekter has taken the south col to the peak.”
Temujin was impressed at his brother’s calm. He watched as Kachiun walked to the edge of the red boulder he’d climbed in panic, going close enough to have the wind pull at his braided hair.
“Bekter does not know where the eagles are, if they are here at all,” Temujin told him.
Kachiun shrugged again. “He took the easier path. I don’t think an eagle would build a nest where it could be so easily reached.”
“There’s another way, then?” Temujin asked. As he spoke, he scrambled up a shallow slope to get a better view of the summits of the red hill. There were two, as Kachiun had said, and Temujin could see Bekter and Khasar on the one to the south. Even from a distance, both boys could identify the powerful figure of their eldest brother, moving slowly but steadily. The northern peak that loomed above Temujin and Kachiun was a spike of rock even more daunting than the initial sheer slope they had climbed.
Temujin clenched his fists, feeling the heaviness in his arms and calves.
“Are you ready?” Kachiun asked him, nodding toward the northern face.
Temujin reached out and caught his serious little brother around the back of the head in a quick clasp. He saw that Kachiun had lost a fingernail from his right hand. There was a crust of blood running right along his forearm to the sinewy muscles there, but the boy showed no sign of his discomfort.
“I am ready,” Temujin said. “Why did you wait for me?”
Kachiun grunted softly, taking a fresh hold on the rock. “If you fell, Bekter would be khan one day.”
“He might be a good one,” Temujin said, grudgingly. He did not believe it, but he remembered how Bekter had wrestled his father’s bondsmen. There were aspects of the adult