Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden

      With no sign of opposition, the younger warriors under Genghis spent their days riding as close as they dared to the city, testing their courage. The bravest of them galloped under the shadow of the walls as arrows whipped overhead. Their whooping cries echoed over the fields in challenge, yet only one Xi Xia archer managed a clean strike in three days. Even then, the tribesman recovered his seat and rode clear, pulling the arrow out of his armour and throwing it contemptuously to the ground.

      Genghis too rode close, with his generals and officers. What he saw brought him no inspiration. Even the canals into the city were protected by iron bars as thick as a man’s forearm, set deep into stone. He thought they might still batter their way in, though the thought of crawling down dank tunnels was unpleasant to a man of the plains.

      As night fell, his brothers and generals gathered in the great ger to eat and discuss the problem. Genghis’ mood had grown dark once more, but Arslan had known him from the beginning of his rise and did not fear to speak bluntly.

      ‘With the sort of wooden shield we used against the fort, we could protect men long enough to hammer through the canal openings,’ Arslan said, chewing. ‘Though I do not like the look of those constructions on the walls. I would not have believed a bow could be so large. If they’re real, they must fire arrows as long as a man. Who knows how much damage they can do?’

      ‘We cannot stay out here for ever, while they send messages to their allies,’ Kachiun murmured, ‘and we cannot pass by and leave their army free to strike at our back. We must enter the city, or return to the desert and give up everything we have won.’

      Genghis glanced at his younger brother, his expression sour.

      ‘That will not happen,’ he said with more confidence than he felt. ‘We have their crops. How long can a city last before the people are eating each other? Time is on our side.’

      ‘We are not hurting them yet, I think,’ Kachiun replied. ‘They have the canals to bring water and, for all we know, the city is stuffed with grain and salted meat.’ He saw Genghis frown at the image, but continued. ‘We could be here for years, waiting, and who knows how many armies are marching to support them? By the time they are starving, we could be facing the Chin themselves and be caught between them.’

      ‘Then give me an answer!’ Genghis snapped. ‘The Uighur scholars tell me that every city in Chin lands is like this one, or even larger, if you can imagine it. If they have been built by men, they can be destroyed by men, I am certain of it. Tell me how.’

      ‘We could poison the water in the canals,’ Khasar said, reaching for another piece of meat with his knife. He speared it in sudden silence and looked round at the others.

      ‘What? This is not our land.’

      ‘That is an evil thing to say,’ Kachiun chided his brother, speaking for all of them. ‘What would we drink ourselves, then?’

      Khasar shrugged. ‘We would drink clean water from further up.’

      Genghis listened, considering.

      ‘We need to sting them into coming out,’ he said. ‘I will not see clean water poisoned, but we can break the canals and let the city go thirsty. Let them see the work of generations being destroyed and perhaps they will meet us on the plain.’

      ‘I will see it done,’ Jelme said.

      Genghis nodded to him. ‘And you, Khasar. You will send a hundred men to break through the bars where the canals enter the city.’

      ‘Protecting them will mean more carts taken apart. The families will not like that at all,’ Khasar said.

      Genghis snorted.

      ‘I will build more when we are in that cursed city. They will thank us then.’

      All the men in the ger heard galloping hoofbeats coming closer. Genghis paused with a piece of greasy mutton in his fingers. He looked up as a clatter sounded on the steps outside and the door to the ger opened.

      ‘They are coming out, lord.’

      ‘In the darkness?’ Genghis said incredulously.

      ‘There is no moon, but I was close enough to hear them, lord. They chattered like birds and made more noise than children.’

      Genghis tossed the meat down into the platter in the centre of the ger.

      ‘Return to your men, my brothers. Make them ready.’ His gaze flickered around the ger to Arslan and Jelme, the father and son sitting together.

      ‘Arslan, you will keep five thousand to protect the families. The rest will ride with me.’ He grinned at the prospect and they responded.

      ‘Not years, Kachiun. Not one more day. Get the fastest scouts riding. I want to know what they are doing as soon as dawn comes. I will have orders for you then.’

      So far south, the autumn was still hot, the uncut crops drooping under their own weight as they began to rot in the fields. The Mongol scouts shouted challenges to the red army that had marched from the safety of Yinchuan, while others rode back to Genghis with details. They entered the great ger in groups of three, passing on what they had learned.

      Genghis strode back and forth, listening to each man as he described the scene.

      ‘I do not like this business with the baskets,’ he said to Kachiun. ‘What could they be sowing on this ground?’ He had heard of hundreds of men walking together in patterns before the host from Yinchuan. Each had carried a basket on his shoulders while a man behind him reached into it, over and over, casting his arms wide.

      The khan of the Uighurs had been summoned to explain the mystery. Barchuk had questioned the scouts closely, demanding every scrap of information they could recall.

      ‘It could be something to slow our horses, lord,’ he said at last. ‘Sharp stones, perhaps, or iron. They have sown a wide band of these seeds outside the army and they show no sign of crossing it. If they are intent on drawing us in, perhaps they expect the charge to founder.’

      Genghis clapped him on the shoulder.

      ‘Whatever it is, I will not let them choose the ground,’ he said. ‘You will have your scrolls yet, Barchuk.’ He looked around him at the bright faces of his most trusted men. None of them could truly know the enemy they faced. The slaughter at the fort to enter Xi Xia lands bore little relation to the fighting formations of the king’s own city. He could feel his heart beating quickly at the thought of finally standing against his people’s enemies. Surely they would not fail, after so long in preparation? Kokchu said the stars themselves proclaimed a new destiny for his people. With the shaman attending him, Genghis had sacrificed a white goat to the sky father, using the name in the most ancient shaman’s tongue. Tängri would not refuse them. They had been weak for too long, made so by the Chin in their cities of gold. Now they were strong and he would see the cities fall.

      The generals stood perfectly still as Kokchu reached into tiny pots and drew lines on their faces. When they looked at each other, they could not see the men they knew. They saw only the masks of war and eyes that were fierce and terrible.

      The shaman left Genghis until last, dragging a red line from high on the khan’s forehead, over the eyes and down on each side of his mouth.

      ‘Iron will not touch you, lord. Stone will not break you. You are the Wolf and the sky father watches.’

      Genghis stared without blinking, the blood somehow hot on his skin. At last, he nodded and left the ger, mounting his pony with the lines of warriors drawn up on either side. He could see the city in the distance and, before it, a blurry mass of red men waiting to see his ambitions humbled. He looked left and right along the line and raised his arm.

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