Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden
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back from its bent position, wincing in anticipation. It did not snap and both boys breathed a sigh of relief. Bekter touched his thumb to the taut cord, making a deep twanging sound.
‘Have you finished the arrows?’ he said to Temujin.
‘Just one,’ Temujin replied, showing him the straight birch twig with a needle of bone set firmly into the wood. It had taken for ever to grind the shard into a shape he could bind, leaving a delicate tang that fitted between the split wood. He had held his breath for part of the process, knowing that if he snapped the head, there could be no replacement.
‘Give it to me, then,’ Bekter said, holding out his hand.
Temujin shook his head. ‘Make your own,’ he replied, holding it out of reach. ‘This is mine.’
He saw rage in Bekter’s eyes then and thought the older boy might use the new bow to strike him. Perhaps the time they had spent on it prevented him from doing so, but Bekter nodded at last.
‘I should have expected that, from you.’
Bekter made a show of placing the bow out of Temujin’s reach while he found a stone to grind his own arrowhead. Temujin stood stiffly watching, irritated at having to cooperate with a fool.
‘The Olkhun’ut do not speak well of you, Bekter, did you know that?’ he said.
Bekter snorted, spitting on the stone and working the bone sliver back and forth.
‘I don’t care what they think of me, my brother,’ he replied grimly. ‘If I had become khan, I would have raided them the first winter. I would have shown them the price of their pride.’
‘Be sure to tell our mother that, when we go back,’ Temujin said. ‘She will be pleased to hear what you were planning.’
Bekter looked up at Temujin, his small, dark eyes murderous.
‘You are just a child,’ he said, after a time. ‘You could never have led the Wolves.’
Temujin felt anger flare, though he showed nothing.
‘We won’t know now, will we?’ he said.
Bekter ignored him, grinding the bone into a neat shape for the shaft.
‘Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like finding a marmot burrow?’
Temujin did not bother to reply. He turned his back on his brother and walked away.
The meal that night was a pitiful affair. Hoelun had nursed a flame into life, though the damp leaves smoked and spat. Another night in the cold might have killed them, but she was terrified the light would be seen. The cleft in the hills should have hidden their position, but still she made them cluster around the flame, blocking its light with their bodies. They were all weak with hunger and Temuge was green around the mouth where he had tried wild herbs and vomited.
Two fish were the product of their day’s labours, both of them captured more by luck than skill in the river trap. As small as they were, the crisping black fingers of flesh drew the eyes of all the boys.
Temujin and Bekter were silently furious with each other after an afternoon of frustration. When Temujin had found a marmot hole, Bekter had refused to hand over the bow and Temujin had flown at him in a rage, rolling together over and over in the wet. One of the arrows had snapped under them, the sound interrupting their fight. Bekter had tried to snatch at the other, but Temujin had been faster. He had already decided to borrow Kachiun’s knife and make his own bow for the next day.
Hoelun shivered, feeling ill as she held the twigs in the flames and wondered who would starve amongst her sons. Kachiun and Khasar deserved at least a taste of the flesh, but she knew her own strength was the most important thing they had. If she began to faint from hunger, or even died, the rest of them would perish. She set her jaw in anger as her gaze fell on the two older boys. Both of them bore fresh bruises and she wanted to take a stick to them for their stupidity. They did not understand that there would be no rescue, no respite. Their lives were in two tiny fish on the flames, barely enough for a mouthful.
Hoelun prodded at the black flesh with a nail, trying not to give in to despair. Clear liquid ran down a finger as she squeezed it and she pressed her mouth to the drip, closing her eyes in something like ecstasy. She ignored her complaining stomach and broke the fish into two pieces, handing one each to Kachiun and Khasar.
Kachiun shook his head. ‘You first,’ he said, making tears start in her eyes.
Khasar heard him and paused as he raised the fish to his mouth. He could smell the cooked meat and Hoelun saw saliva was making his lips wet.
‘I can last a little longer than you, Kachiun,’ she said. ‘I will eat tomorrow.’
It was enough for Khasar, who closed his mouth on the scrap and sucked noisily at the bones. Kachiun’s eyes were dark with pain from his hunger, but he shook his head.
‘You first,’ he said again. He held out the head of the fish and Hoelun took it gently from him.
‘Do you think I can take food from you, Kachiun? My darling son?’ Her voice hardened. ‘Eat it, or I will throw it back on the fire.’
He winced at the thought and took it from her at once. They could all hear the bones breaking as he crunched it into a paste in his mouth, savouring every last drop of nourishment.
‘Now you,’ Temujin said to his mother. He reached out for the second fish, intending to pass it to her. Bekter slapped his arm away and Temujin almost went for him again in a sudden rage.
‘I do not need to eat tonight,’ Temujin said, controlling his anger. ‘Neither does Bekter. Share the last one with Temuge.’
He could not bear the hungry eyes all round the fire and suddenly stood, preferring not to watch. He swayed slightly, feeling faint, but then Bekter reached out and took the fish, breaking it in two. He put the larger half in his mouth and held out the rest to his mother, unable to look her in the eye.
Hoelun hid her irritation, sick of the pettiness that hunger had brought to her family. They all sensed death was close and it was hard to remain strong. She forgave Bekter, but the last piece of fish went to Temuge, who sucked busily at it, looking round for more. Temujin spat on the ground, deliberately catching the edge of Bekter’s deel with the clot of phlegm. Before his older brother could rise to his feet, Temujin had vanished into the darkness. The damp air cooled quickly without the sun and they prepared themselves for another freezing night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
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