Free Lords of the Bow by Conn Iggulden Page A

wither. Khasar made his decision, knowing it could mean the lives of the two scouts.
    “Ride to the foot of the wall, then come straight back,” he said to them. The two men bowed their heads, exchanging a glance in expressionless faces. As one, they dug in their heels and called “Chuh!” to make their mounts run. Sand spattered into the air as they began their race to the foot of the black wall and Khasar and Kachiun watched through eyes slitted against the glare.
    “Do you think they will reach it?” Kachiun asked.
    Khasar shrugged without speaking, too intent on watching the wall.
    Kachiun thought he saw a sharp gesture from the distant guard. The scouts had the sense not to ride together, taking a split path at full gallop and veering right and left to spoil the aim of any archers. For a long time, there was no sound but the echoes of their hooves, and the brothers watched with held breath.
    Kachiun swore as a line of archers appeared on the wall.
    “Come
on,”
he urged under his breath. Dark specks flashed down at the two scouts riding wildly in, and Kachiun saw one of them swerve recklessly as he reached the great gate. They could see him slam his fist into the wood as he turned his mount, but the archers were loosing in waves and an instant later he and his horse were pinned with a dozen shafts. The dying man cried out and his mount began the trip back, missing a step and stumbling as it was hit again and again. They fell at last almost together, lying still on the sand.
    The second scout was luckier, though he had not touched the wall. For a time, it looked as if he might escape the shafts, and Khasar and Kachiun shouted to him. Then he jerked in the saddle and his horse reared and collapsed, its legs kicking as it rolled over him.
    The horse made it back to its feet and limped back to the brothers, leaving the scout’s body broken behind it.
    Khasar dismounted and took the loose reins. The leg was broken and the pony would not be ridden again. In silence Khasar tied the reins to his saddle. He wasn’t going to leave the animal behind with so many mouths to feed in the camp.
    “We have our answer, brother,” Khasar muttered, “though it’s not the one I wanted. How are we going to get through them?”
    Kachiun shook his head. “We will find a way,” he said, glancing back to the dark line of archers watching them. Some of them raised their arms, though whether in mockery or salute, he could not tell. “Even if we have to take it down, stone by stone.”

    As soon as Khasar and Kachiun were sighted riding alone, the forces of Genghis were halted in their tracks. Before they could reach the outer lines of mounted warriors, the brothers passed skirmisher groups who remained staring outwards at the mountains they left behind. Genghis and his officers had learned hard lessons in the years of building the tribes into a single army, and galloping boys raced ahead to tell him they were coming in.
    Neither man replied to those who called to them. Grim and silent, they rode to their brother’s ger, sitting like a white limpet on its cart. When they reached it, Khasar dismounted in a jump and glanced at the man who stepped forward to take the reins.
    “Tsubodai,” he said in greeting, forcing a smile. The young warrior seemed nervous and Khasar recalled he had been promised armor and a good horse. He grimaced at the timing.
    “We have many things to discuss with the khan. Claim your horse another time.”
    Tsubodai’s face fell with disappointment and Khasar snorted, catching him by the shoulder as he turned away. He recalled the boy’s courage in leaping among the sons of the Woyela. It was a favor he could repay.
    “Perhaps there will be a moment when we are done. Come with me, then, if you can be silent.”
    Tsubodai regained his grin on the instant, tinged with nervousness at meeting the great khan himself. With a dry mouth, he climbed the steps of the cart and followed the brothers into the shadowed