Читать книгу Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection - Conn Iggulden - Страница 29

Temujin held himself very still as he sighted along the line of the shaft. Although the marmots had all scattered at his arrival, they were stupid creatures and it was never long before they returned. With a decent bow and feathered arrows, he would have been confident in taking a fat buck home for his family.

The closest warren to the cleft in the hills was still dangerously exposed. Temujin would have preferred a few small bushes for cover, but instead he had to sit perfectly still and wait for the timid animals to risk coming back. He kept watch on the hills around him at the same time, in case a wanderer came over a crest. Hoelun had fed them with her warnings until they were all fearful of shadows and watched the horizon whenever they left the shelter of the cleft.

The wind blew into Temujin’s face so that his scent would not alarm his prey, but he had to hold the bow half drawn as the slightest movement sent them all diving back into their burrows like brown streaks across the ground. His arms were quivering with fatigue and always there was the little voice in his head telling him that he needed to make the kill this time, spoiling his calm. After four days surviving on tiny scraps and a handful of wild onions, Yesugei’s sons and wife were starving to death. Hoelun had lost her energy and sat listless as her daughter pawed at her and screamed. Only the baby had fed well for the first three days, but then Hoelun’s milk had begun to fail and her sobbing had been pitiful to the boys.

Kachiun and Khasar had climbed far up the cleft, scouting the land and looking for any animal that might have strayed away from a herd and gone wild. Kachiun had made himself a small bow and three arrows with tips hard and black from the fire. Temujin wished them luck, but he knew he had a better chance of saving them, if he could only make a good strike. He could almost taste the hot meat of the marmot as it sat up twenty paces away. It was a shot a child could have made if the arrows had been flighted. As it was, Temujin was forced to wait while the agony built in his arms. He dared not speak aloud, but in his mind, he called to the nervous creatures, willing them to wander a little further away from safety, a little closer to him.

He blinked stinging sweat from his eyes as the marmot looked around, sensing there was a predator nearby. Temujin watched as the animal froze, knowing the next movement would be a vanishing scuttle as the alarm went up. He released his breath and loosed the shaft, sick with the expectation of seeing it wasted.

It hit the marmot in the neck. The strike had been without any real force, remaining stuck as the animal struggled in a frenzy, pawing at it. Temujin dropped the bow and leapt to his feet, running towards his kill before it could recover and disappear underground. He saw the lighter belly fur and the legs jerking manically as he ran, desperate not to lose his chance.

He fell on the marmot, gripping it frantically. It went berserk and, in his weakened state, he almost lost it as it writhed in his grip. The arrow fell away and blood spattered on the dry ground. Temujin found there were tears of relief in his eyes as he pulled the neck out and twisted it. The marmot still kicked and jerked against his leg as he stood panting, but they would eat. He waited for dizziness to pass, feeling the weight of the animal he’d caught. It was fat and healthy and he knew his mother would have some hot meat and blood that night. The tendons would be ground into a paste and layered with fish glue onto his bow for strength. His next shot would be at a longer range, the kill more certain. He placed his hands on his knees and laughed weakly at his own relief. It was such a small thing, but it meant so much, he could hardly take it in.

Behind his back, he heard a voice he knew.

‘What did you get?’ Bekter said, walking across the grass towards his brother. He carried his own bow on his shoulder and he did not have the pinched and starving look of the others. It had been Kachiun who first voiced the suspicion that Bekter was not bringing his kills back to the family. He accepted his share readily enough, but in the four days since they had come to that place, he had brought nothing of his own to the fire. Temujin stood straight, uncomfortable with the way Bekter’s eyes drifted over the prey he had taken.

‘A marmot,’ he said, holding it up.

Bekter leaned closer to see and then snatched at it. Temujin jerked backwards and the limp corpse fell sprawling into the dust. Both boys grabbed for it, kicking and punching wildly at each other. Temujin was too weak to do more than hold Bekter back before he was thrown off and left looking up at the blue sky, his chest heaving.

‘I will take this one back to our mother. You would only have stolen it and eaten it yourself,’ Bekter said, smiling down at Temujin.

It was galling to have Kachiun’s own suspicion thrown in his face and Temujin tried to struggle up. Bekter held him down with a foot and he could not fight him. His strength seemed to have vanished.

‘Catch yourself another, Temujin. Don’t come back until you do.’

Bekter laughed then and snatched up the limp marmot, jogging away down the hillside to where the greenery became dark and thick. Temujin watched him go, so angry he thought his heart would burst. It fluttered in his chest and he wondered with a pang of terror if hunger could have weakened it. He could not die while Eeluk ruled the Wolves, or while Bekter had not been punished.

By the time he sat up, he had mastered himself once more. The foolish marmots had returned while he lay there, though they scattered as soon as he rose. Grimly, he returned to his arrow and notched it into the braided string, settling back into the stillness of the hunter. His muscles ached and his legs threatened to cramp under the strain, but his heart slowed to beat with force and need.

There was only one marmot to feed the family that night. Hoelun revived as Bekter brought it to her and made a larger fire to heat stones. Though her hands shook, she nicked the belly neatly and scooped out the guts and organs, filling the space with pebbles hot enough to crack. She kept her deel wrapped around her hands, but twice she winced as the heat stung her fingers. The meat was seared from the inside and then the bloated skin rolled in the embers, charring it to crisp deliciousness. The heart too was roasted in the ashes until it sizzled. Nothing would be wasted.

The smell alone seemed to put a little colour in Hoelun’s cheeks, and she hugged Bekter, her relief turning to tears she did not seem to feel. Temujin said nothing of what had happened. She needed them to work together and it would have been cruelty to accuse his smiling brother when she was so weak.

Bekter basked in the attention, his gleaming gaze falling on Temujin at regular intervals. Temujin stared darkly back when his mother was not looking. Kachiun noticed as the evening faded to night, and he jogged his brother with an elbow.

‘What’s wrong?’ the little boy whispered, as they settled down to eat.

Temujin shook his head, unwilling to share his hatred. He could hardly think of anything else except the steaming scraps of meat pressed into his hands by Bekter, who chose the portions like a khan feeding his men. Temujin saw he kept the shoulder, the best piece, for himself.

None of them had ever tasted anything as fine as that meat. The family became a little happier, a little more hopeful, as it warmed them. One shot with the bow had brought about the changes, though Kachiun had added another three small fish and a few crickets to the fire. It was a feast that ached and burned inside them as the younger boys forced the morsels down too quickly and had to drink water against the heat. Temujin might have forgiven the theft if his brothers had not been so generous in their praise. Bekter accepted it as his due, his small eyes filled with an inner amusement only Temujin understood.

There was no rain that night and the boys slept in the second of the rough shelters they had constructed, a tiny part of their hunger laid to rest. It was still there, hurting, but they could hold it back once more and show the cold face to discomfort as they retreated from a ragged edge where no control was possible.

Temujin did not sleep. He rose on silent feet and padded out into the darkness, looking up at the moon and shivering. The summer would not last much longer, he realised as he walked. The winter was coming and it would kill them as surely as a knife in the chest. The marmots slept in their burrows in the cold months, far underground, where they could not be reached. The birds flew south and could not be trapped. Winter was hard enough for families in warm gers, surrounded by cattle and horses. It would be murder for the family of Yesugei.

As he stood and emptied his bladder onto the ground, he could not help thinking of the Olkhun’ut and the night he had crept out after Koke. He had been a child then, with nothing better to do than settle scores with other boys. He ached for the innocence of that night and wished Borte were there to hold. He snorted to himself at that thought, knowing Borte was warm and well fed, while his bones were showing.

Temujin sensed a presence behind him and spun, dropping low and ready to lunge or run.

‘You must have good ears, brother,’ Kachiun’s voice came. ‘I am like a silent breeze at night.’

Temujin smiled at his brother, relaxing. ‘Why are you awake?’

Kachiun shrugged. ‘Hungry. I’d stopped feeling it all day yesterday, then Bekter brings in a handful of marmot meat and my stomach has woken up again.’

Temujin spat on the ground. ‘My marmot. I killed it; he was just the one who took it from me.’

Kachiun’s face was difficult to read in the moonlight, but Temujin could see he was troubled.

‘I guessed it. I don’t think the others noticed.’

He fell silent, a tiny grim figure standing in the dark. Temujin saw he had a bulge in his tunic and he prodded it with a finger.

‘What’s that?’ Temujin asked, curious.

Kachiun looked nervously back towards the camp before he pulled something out and held it for Temujin to see. It was another marmot carcase and Temujin felt the bones in his hand, already angry. They were split exactly as a hungry man would break them to get at tiny scraps of marrow. Bekter hadn’t risked a fire. The bones were raw, no more than a day old.

‘I found it over where Bekter has been hunting,’ Kachiun said, his voice troubled.

Temujin turned the fragile little bones over in his hands, running his fingers along the skull. Bekter had left the skin on there, though the eyes were gone. He had killed it on a day when there was nothing else to eat in the camp for any of them.

Temujin knelt and searched for any small scrap of flesh. There was a smell of rot on the bones, but it would not have spoiled too much in a single day. Kachiun knelt with him and they sucked each of the broken bones again, teasing out even a whisper of flavour. It did not take long.

‘What will you do?’ Kachiun asked when they were done.

Temujin made up his mind and felt no regrets.

‘Have you ever seen a tick on a horse, Kachiun?’

‘Of course,’ his brother replied. They had both seen the fat parasites as large as the last joint on their thumbs. When they were pulled free, they left a trail of blood that took an age to clot.

‘A tick is a dangerous thing when a horse is weak,’ Temujin said softly. ‘Do you know what you must do when you find one?’

‘Kill it,’ Kachiun whispered.

When Bekter left the camp the following dawn, Temujin and Kachiun slipped out after him. They knew where he preferred to hunt and let him get far ahead, where he would not sense he was being watched.

Kachiun shot worried glances at Temujin as they crept along between the trees. Temujin saw the fear and wondered that he felt none of it himself. His hunger was a constant pain in his gut and twice he had to stop and strain greenish liquid from his bowels, wiping himself with wet leaves. He felt light-headed and weak, but the starvation had burnt any sense of pity out of him. He thought he might have a light fever, but he forced himself on, though his heart bumped and fluttered weakly. This was what it was to be a wolf, he realised. No fear or regret, just a single drive to rid themselves of an enemy.

It was not hard to track Bekter on the muddy ground. He had not tried to conceal his path and the only danger was that they would stumble across him when he had settled to watch for prey. Temujin and Kachiun padded silently behind, every sense straining. When they saw a pair of larks in a tree ahead, Kachiun touched his brother lightly on the arm in warning and they walked a circle around the spot rather than have the birds cry an alarm.

Kachiun stopped and Temujin turned to him, wincing at the way his brother’s skull was perfectly visible beneath the stretched skin. It hurt to see it and Temujin assumed he too looked as close to death. If he shut his eyes, it seemed to rob him of balance, so that he swayed and had to fight dizziness. It required an effort of will to take a long slow breath and lower his heart’s frantic pounding.

Kachiun raised an arm to point and Temujin stared ahead, freezing as he saw that Bekter had taken position a hundred paces further on, overlooking the stream. It was hard not to be frightened of the figure kneeling like a statue in the bushes. They had all felt the force of Bekter’s fists and his weight on them in childish games. Temujin watched Bekter, wondering how to get close enough to take a shot. There was no doubt in his mind. His vision seemed bright and slightly blurred and his thoughts were cold, slow-moving things, but his path was set.

Kachiun and Temujin jerked as Bekter loosed an arrow into the water from where he hid. Both boys stepped back into cover as they heard a flurry of wings and panic and saw three ducks take off wildly, calling their warnings too late.

Bekter jumped up and waded into the stream. He was lost to sight then behind a tree, but when he came back to the bank, they saw he held the limp body of a red duck.

Temujin peered through a tangle of branches and thorns.

‘We’ll wait here,’ he murmured. ‘Find a spot on the other side of this path. We’ll take him on his way back.’

Kachiun swallowed a lump in his throat, trying not to show his nervousness. He did not like the new coldness he saw in Temujin and he regretted showing him the marmot bones the night before. In the light of day, his hands shook at the thought of what they were intending to do, but when Temujin looked at him, he did not meet his stare. The smaller boy waited until Bekter’s back was turned and darted across the path, his bow ready.

Temujin narrowed his eyes as he watched Bekter retrieve the arrow and shove the duck into his tunic. He felt a pang of disappointment as Bekter stretched aching muscles and then strode away in the wrong direction, further up the cleft. Temujin raised a flat palm to where Kachiun was hidden, though he could not see him. He thought of Bekter devouring the fat duck somewhere private and he wanted to kill him right then. If he had been strong, with good milk and meat in his belly, he might have gone after him, but as weak as he was, only an ambush stood a chance of succeeding. Temujin eased his legs before they could begin to cramp. His gut sent a spasm of pain through him that made him close his eyes and curl up against it until it passed. He dared not drop his trousers while he waited, in case Bekter’s sharp nose smelled it. Yesugei had raised them all to be aware and Temujin did not want to lose his advantage. He shut out the discomfort and settled down to wait.

The worst moment was when a wood pigeon came to light on a tree not far away from where the two boys crouched, hidden in the damp undergrowth. Temujin watched it in agony, knowing he could make the shot easily at just a few paces. The bird seemed unaware of them and his hunger made him cramp again and again as he tried to ignore it. For all he knew, Bekter was coming back already, and every bird nearby would rise out of the trees and give away their position if Temujin shot the pigeon. Still, he could not look away, and when it flew, he followed its flight as far as he could, hearing the clapping of its wings long after it had gone.

Bekter came back when the sun had crossed above the cleft and the shadows were lengthening. Temujin heard his footsteps and dragged himself out of a near trance. He was surprised to find so much time had passed and wondered if he had even been asleep. His body was failing and the stream water could not fill the aching pain in his stomach.

Temujin nocked his arrow and waited, shaking his head against dizziness and to clear his vision. He tried to tell himself that Bekter would kill him if he missed, to make his body come alive and serve just a little longer. It was hard, and he rubbed angrily at his eyes to sharpen them. He could hear Bekter’s closeness and then the moment had come.

He stepped out into the path only a few paces from Bekter. Temujin drew the bow and Bekter gaped at him. There was an instant where Bekter scrabbled for the knife on his belt and then Temujin loosed, seeing the bone point punch into his brother’s chest. At the same moment, Kachiun fired from behind and to one side, rocking Bekter forwards with a second blow.

Bekter staggered and roared in rage. He drew his knife and advanced a step, then another before his legs went and he fell face down in the leaves. Both arrows had struck him cleanly and Temujin could hear the great bubbling hiss of a punctured lung. There was no pity in him. In a daze, he stepped forward, dropping the bow and taking Bekter’s knife from his fingers.

He looked across at Kachiun’s horrified face, then grimaced, reaching down and shoving the blade into Bekter’s neck, releasing his blood and his life.

‘It is done,’ Temujin said, looking down at the staring eyes as they glazed over. He could not feel his own weight as he patted Bekter’s deel and tunic, searching for the duck. It was not there, and Temujin kicked the body and staggered away from it, so dizzy he thought he would faint. He pressed his forehead against the cool wetness of a birch tree and waited for his pulse to ease its throbbing flutter.

He heard Kachiun approach, his steps soft on the leaves as they skirted their brother’s body. Temujin opened his eyes.

‘We had better hope Khasar brought something back to eat,’ he said. When Kachiun did not respond, Temujin took Bekter’s weapons, pulling the drawn bow up around his shoulder.

‘If the others see Bekter’s knife, they will know,’ Kachiun said, his voice sick with misery.

Temujin reached out and held his neck, steadying himself as much as his brother. He could hear the panic in Kachiun and felt the first echo of it himself. He had not thought about what happened after his enemy was dead. There would be no revenge for Bekter, no chance to win back their father’s gers and herds. He would rot where he lay. The reality of it was only beginning to sink in and Temujin could hardly believe he had actually done it. The strange mood before the shot was gone, and in its place, he had only weakness and hunger.

‘I will tell them,’ Temujin said. He felt his gaze drawn down to Bekter’s body once more as if pulled by an unseen weight. ‘I will tell them he was letting us all starve. There is no place here for softness. I will tell them that.’

They walked down into the cleft once more, each taking comfort from the other’s presence.