In her hands Sparetha held the woven design of a ten-spoked wheel done in the twelve colours of magic. Each arm of the wheel denoted one of the tribes and, looking closely, one could see the totem animal of each tribe embroidered along its arm. As was traditional the top-pointing arm had the motif of a dire wolf done larger to denote the home tribe of the wearer.
“My son, here is the cover for your shield, so that all the tribes may know of your wanderjahr and make you welcome and give you immunity unless you should choose to remove it. Here also is a band marked the same to bind about your forehead. You are my youngest child and now, with your leaving, your father and I can relax and become ancients.”
A mischievous smile played on her lips and her eyes twinkled to show her amusement with the idea.
She laughed. “What I really mean is that now you are all moved to your own ger, we can have ours to ourselves again.” She batted her eyes at Hulagu’s father, who grinned and patted her bottom as Hulagu blushed.
Parents should not be thinking about such things. It was wrong.
Togotak was shorter than his wife and his rolling gait and slightly bowed legs spoke of a life spent in the saddle. Few riders were better than Sparetha, and Togotak was one. He had often joked that the only way that he could win her was to out ride her and Sparetha had never contradicted him in this. Togotak wore baggy golden silk trews of the Khitan pattern, when standing the crutch came down to his knees for its comfort under him in a saddle. His equally baggy shirt was red raw-silk and his waistcoat made of white walla. Like his son and most of the men around, his head was shaved, except for a braid coming from the top of his head and hanging down over his left ear. His cheerful face bore a scar down the left cheek from a sabre cut and the tip of his right ear was missing.
“My son, you have always shown that you are more interested in the world outside the camp than in the camp and its people.” He held up a hand to stop Hulagu protesting, leaving him with an open mouth. “Do not say anything. This is often the case with our greatest hunters and warriors. Maybe while you are away you will add to the legends of the tribes. Your mother and I wished to give you something to mark this time that would best help you.”
Here he reached behind his back, as if expecting something to be there. It obviously wasn’t. He clicked his fingers and Sparetha gave a start, lifted a cloth lying on the ground to uncover something and put it in Togotak’s hand. Bringing it around the front he presented it to Hulagu.
“Take this. It is time you had a newer and stronger bow. Nokaj and I both crafted spells of accuracy into it and it shows some of your Uncle Tolan’s best work in its construction. Your mother made you a full quiver of arrows to go with it.”
The bow was a beautiful curved sinew and horn horse bow around a pace-and-a-half long. It had the typical long straight arms extending from its re-curved shape and when fully drawn would be only half-a-pace high. Many of the town dwellers could not use these bows. In particular, they could not master the thumb draw that enabled a much higher rate of fire than could be had from their far longer, single-piece weapons that were useless on a horse.
Hulagu took the bow. Its grip felt right in his left hand, the waxed string smooth and new. “Thank you my parents. This is a beautiful gift and I will treasure it and remember and thank you every time that I use it. May I try it now?”
“Boys and their playthings,” said Sparetha. “As they get older, their games just get deadlier. No, it is time for your leave-taking celebration. You will have enough time to try it as you set out. Besides, you should first use a horse bow when you are mounted.”
“Yes,” said Togotak. “Besides, I believe that Nokaj has set upon you a task. Go now, enjoy yourself and think on it.”
Hulagu smiled and touched his forehead with the first finger of his right hand in respect. “You speak wisdom my parents. As always I obey.” With that he bowed and, still carrying his bow to show it to his relations he went towards the others. He first sought out Tolan, a master bowyer, and thanked him for the workmanship. He then proceeded to display it until all had seen it, then unstrung it and put it away.
Hulagu enjoyed his celebration feast and got marvellously drunk but, just before dawn, while dancing in a circle with the other men, he realised that, much as he loved his family and their way of life, he had always wanted to see more of the world and what it could give. He realised that, if he had a possible destiny ahead of him, he should take the chance it offered. Most people were never given the opportunity to have the bards sing of their adventures and he had this prospect in front of him. Having made this decision, he threw himself into the celebration with renewed vigour. It may be his last chance to enjoy himself this way with the tribe.
He was nearly the last to collapse among the other bachelors—sleeping well clear of the ger on rugs, as was tradition in such cases.
~~~
After only a few hours’ sleep he awoke to the warmth of the autumn sun with the feeling he was drowning. Spluttering and gasping for air he struggled to stay afloat to discover that he was on dry land and that Sparetha was pouring water on his face.
“It is now time for you to break your fast and pack what you wish to take with you. This should sober you enough to make your second choice,” she said. “Hurry though. Nokaj has been hopping from foot to foot waiting on an answer since dawn.”
Even through the fog that was filling inside his head, Hulagu smiled at this unlikely thought.
Once he had moved to start packing, Hulagu realised that he could end up anywhere in this year and so he had to be prepared for the heat and dampness of Haven as much as the bitter cold of the northern forests. As he was packing he thought on his decision of last night, the packing going almost automatically. By the time he was done his saddlebags were bulging with items tied outside them and a pair of sacks tied across his horse as well. He was starting to regret not having spent his money on getting a packhorse, but it was too late for that now.
It was not until he was leading his horse towards his grandfather’s ger that Hulagu realised he had already made his decision. In choosing practical gear that would be useful away from the plains, instead of an array of fine clothes for showing off around the tribes meant that his body had chosen to take the path of destiny instead of that of safety and comfort. It was now up to him to carry out what his body had already accepted and wanted him to do.
Nokaj was sitting cross-legged in the sun in front of his tent. He had been smoking a pipe of somniofulgio brought from Haven. The aromatic smoke still drifted sweetly on the air teasing the nose. From the smile on his face and unfocussed eyes it was obvious that he was in a trance—conversing with the spirit world. Hulagu cast his horse’s reins over its head, confident that the well-trained horse would stay nearby browsing, and sat down, with the patience of a shepherd, cross-legged opposite his grandfather to wait on his return. It was dangerous to disturb someone whose soul was wandering. The shock might cause the body to lose focus and the soul may not be able to find it again.
While he waited, the sounds and smells of his people around him, Hulagu reviewed his decision in his own mind. Every way he looked at it, he was comfortable with the decision that he had made. His way was clear. Now he wished that his head would stop pounding and that the light from the sky were not so bright. He closed his eyes and waited.
~~~
The sun had nearly reached the zenith when his grandfather’s eyes began to focus and he shook his head. “Ah Hulagu, you are here to tell me that your decision is to go on the quest are you not?”
“Yes grandfather,” said Hulagu.
“I was soaring as an eagle over the next few days,” continued Nokaj, almost without noticing that Hulagu had spoken. “Something happened last night along your path. It is a terrible wrong and I must rouse the tuman to deal with those who committed it. It will not directly affect you, but as a result you will meet friendship and you will meet enmity. I cannot see in what form these will come to you, but
they will come. It will not be from the same people. The friendship and the enmity may indicate that the first is one who is on the same quest as you—although they may not know this. The second is probably implacably opposed to your quest and may, indeed be the first test you will face.”
“Do you know how many people I will meet? What tribes will they be from? I mean will my enemies be Bison?” The questions came tumbling out. The natural reticence of the Kara-Khitan tribesman to discuss the real spirit world when in the shadow world was overcome by what Hulagu was seeing happen in front of him.
Nokaj’s powers as a seer were legendary but, even if he was his ancestor, it was overawing to see them practiced in front of him and, not about a general tribal matter, but specifically about himself and his future. It added to his conviction that the choice he had made was the right one and increased his eagerness to be off—even if he started to feel himself unworthy of such an interesting future and just a little nervous.
“I can see little else,” continued Nokaj reluctantly. “Something or someone, perhaps among the sky spirits, is casting a veil over time and fighting my efforts to see. In fact there are two forces fighting. One is determined to twist things in its own path, but is not necessarily hostile. It just wants to hide what it does, but does not seem to have much ability in this path. The other is definitely hostile, and evil, and responsible for most of the fog. It knows what it is doing and it actively fights any attempt to see its actions.
“Its presence is like a thick blanket over the streams of time. I can sense the shapes under the blanket, but I can see no detail. I should have seen what happened last eve well before now. It is in the lands of our tribe and so it is our responsibility. However, the people who committed the acts that I sense have travelled through the lands of other tribes and no one else along their way has even caught a glimpse of their evil or of the evil that has sent them. I was only able to see it briefly now for the blanket could only be lifted for an instant. It seemed that the attention of the power that blankets and smothers vision was elsewhere for a brief time.
“Now go and say your goodbyes. Do not now head straight for Evilhalt. You must head north until you meet what you must meet and only then should you turn east to Evilhalt. I will try and keep track of your destiny through the thickness of the blanket. If you meet me in your dreams I will have words for you to heed. Now I must rouse the tuman.” With that Nokaj unfolded himself and rose, hurrying to the hetman, Ordu’s, ger. His body showed little effect from the herbs that he had smoked—they had all been burned up in his getting of his vision.
Hulagu touched his forehead and then rose and led his horse, Kurghiz, to where his parents waited by their ger. He told Togotak and Sparetha of his decision to follow his more dangerous destiny, come what may, and exchanged embraces with them both before respectfully taking his leave. Feeling nervous, he mounted and rode away to the north.
Looking back after a few paces he thought that he saw tears on his mother’s face. Togotak took her hand and leant over and said a few words to her.
When he looked back from the first rise, near the ovoo, the camp looked as if it were an ant’s nest that had just had hot water poured on it. People were running everywhere, gathering horses and donning armour ready for combat. In the centre of all of the turmoil, his parents still stood silently watching him go.
~~~
Having again circled the ovoo, Hulagu was soon swallowed up by the vastness of the plains. The seemingly endless grasslands rose and fell, as if subject to very long and very slow waves. On a crest it seemed like you could see forever; the horizon being broken by only the occasional gum tree or small clump of wattle.
The next crest was only the height of a mounted man, but it took half an hour of hard riding to reach it. Sometimes there was a small outcrop of weathered rocks and some shallow valleys had small creeks or still ponds. Sometimes there was a small patch of olive trees, wattles or some other tree, sometimes a patch of mallee or blackberry or some other small shrub. Of people there was no sign, although one who knew how to read the indications could see occasional signs of their passing.
Feeling tired from the night before, Hulagu decided to camp early for the night and take advantage of a nearby small creek and a patch of acacias, to give him cover. He unsaddled and rubbed down Kurghiz, giving him a small handful of grain and putting on his hobbles. He looked around his grove and laid a few snares before laying out his bedroll. Once this was done he climbed the nearest crest, making sure that he did not silhouette himself against the sky. He took a long look around, checking also the birds above and looking at the sky itself before going back down.
Once at his camp he prepared a cold meal before wrapping himself up in his blankets and going to sleep, his weapons beside him, but with his bow unstrung. Although Hulagu was used to sleeping on his own when out hunting or tending flocks, this time he thought that he might find people actively wishing him harm, so he tried to sleep lightly. Light or not, his sleep was undisturbed by intruders or by dreams from or of his grandfather.
~~~
In the morning he awoke soon after first light when a squealing announced that one of his snares had caught a victim. While he was hurrying off to see what it was a further noise announced a second snare had been successful. Finding a rabbit in each, Hulagu dispatched them and gathered in his snares. As he went around the traps he saw the prints of many small animals, as well as the prints of a rare meerkat, which had avoided where he slept. A view from a rise showed nothing visible moving on the plains around him. The air was crisp and clean and the sky cloudless.
Returning to his sleeping place he packed up and cleaned his catch. After a light breakfast he set out again, reconciled to another quiet day on the plains. He was not disappointed. Apart from the tracks of animals and old sign of other Khitan, the day was without event. He kept his bow strung out of habit and occasionally took a practice shot at different ranges, recovering each shaft he fired and only breaking one. He discovered that his father was right and that he was ready to handle the extra pull of the new bow. He also found that the spells wrought into the bow made it more accurate, particularly at long range. Whereas his old bow, and indeed all other tribal bows, normally lost accuracy when they made a long shot, his new bow didn’t seem to. This was an advantage.
Each shaman had a limited number of charms that he could learn and use and this was a new one. He was sure that his grandfather or his father must have just developed it. He had never heard of either of them using it before. Admittedly it would be used again and again, but it was quite a complement to think that one of them had done this first for him.
The land rolled along under Kurghiz’s hooves with the grass sea below parting before, and occasionally bowing to, the light breezes. Above all a light blue sky was peppered by an occasional puff of cloud scudding along from the southwest.
~~~
As changes in the light signalled the approaching advent of dusk, Hulagu saw some way ahead, there were two riders outlined on a crest. At first they appeared to be looking for tracks or something on the ground, but upon seeing him ahead they changed what they were doing and started moving towards him. These may either be friends or enemies, or indeed one of each.
Hulagu grunted. With two of them he had to put himself in a position to gain an advantage if they meant him ill. Digging in his heels he sped up and rode faster towards the point where he had decided to spend the night. It was a place known to him as a common campsite, and there was usually a supply of fallen timber to burn there, as well as fresh water.
As he entered the low valley of the campsite he lost sight of the two. It was deeper here than the usual dip and rise and the trees in it could not be seen from the nearby crests and the creek it contained was on the way to becoming a real stream. He rode up beside the brook’s bed quickly towards the fire area, looking up at an ovoo on the skyline and checking the hills and looking for tracks. The fire pit was long disused, although wood stood read
y near it and it seemed that he was the first person to visit there for well over a week. The rare grove of trees that ran up the hill from the campsite and provided the firewood seemed to be free of movement, but he could not be sure of that. He felt no sense of threat from it at any rate.
After dismounting and tying his horse to a small branch, Hulagu stretched his body a few times to loosen the muscles that had been made tight by his ride. After that he just had time to innocently start looking like he was setting up a camp when the two riders rode into sight atop the low ridge ahead of him, less than a hundred paces away.
Hulagu had made sure that his preparations were more cosmetic than real—at need he could just jump on Kurghiz and ride him away without leaving anything important behind. He noticed neither of the approaching riders showed any sign of their tribe—something that was unusual on the plains where all except those who were on the wanderjahr proudly displayed their totems.
As the first at the campsite, by tribal custom, Hulagu became the host and it was up to him to either welcome the newcomers or, by not mentioning it, to force them to move on. For a while he was tempted to take the second course of action but, if the riders were simple travellers, then it would be needlessly offensive. Even worse, if they were those who could be his friends then he might destroy the friendship before it had a chance to form. On the other hand, if they were to be his enemies, a great Kha-Khan of the past, Khirghat, had supposedly once said that one should keep one’s friends close, but keep one’s enemies closer and it was better to know where they were than to risk them creeping up on him while he slept. He noticed that they were still looking around as they approached, as if to see if they were alone with him or if there were any others nearby. This made him even more suspicious of their motives.
Intimations of Evil (Warriors of Vhast Book 1) Page 13