The Altar of Hate

by Vox Day

  And before the shattered gates of each fallen city, an immense mound of skulls was piled, a mighty tribute to the kings of death. Subutai had told Temujin that the mounds would strike fear into his enemies, that they would teach the world to quail before his armies and dread the very mention of his name. But in his ivory-and-gold mansion in the bowels of the Sixth Hell, a sated Baal-Ravana smiled and flicked his spiny tail about with anticipation.

  Yung Chu had no idea of how close Tetradates was to reaching his goal. He was reeling from the magnitude of the vicious genocide, and felt only a vague sense of surprise that the Darkmage's sacrifice had not yet been completed. He had not heard from Dag since that lonely night in Peking when the Discordian had left him awaiting capture at the hands of the Mongols. Therefore he was quite startled when he heard a familiar voice whisper to him amidst the crackling of the flames.

  Yung Chu, listen to me. It's Dag.

  Yung Chu couldn't help a reflexive glance around the room, then, angrily, he returned his attention to the fire before him.

  “Where in Chaos' name have you been? Why haven't you contacted me? Why…”

  Because there hasn't been a reason to do so! Dag interrupted. My master is more powerful than you know, and he could be listening right now. Where is he?

  “He's with Jebei besieging Tus, at the foot of the Elbuiz Mountains. It's safe to talk now, I think.”

  Good. What do you think he plans next?

  “Well, the Khan was talking to me today about coordinating the logistics of crossing the Indus. He must be planning to invade the Punjab, I suppose. I tried to discourage him, but I think Tetradates has him under his spell. Not literally, of course, I mean, I've been keeping a close watch out for that, but I think the Khan's blood has been up ever since he destroyed the Shah. Whatever Subutai says pretty much goes nowadays.”

  Hmmmm. Well, regardless, you absolutely have to keep him from India. There's too many people there, and he'll finish the sacrifice in no time. Do whatever you have to, even poison the Khan if you must…

  “Dag!” a shocked Yung Chu exclaimed. “I can't do that! You know we're sworn never to kill!”

  Except, of course, for the occasional wizard of whom your Assembly doesn't approve, the Discordian replied drily. Ah well, I'd hoped your time with the savages had taught you a bit more flexibility by now.

  “Besides, he named Ogodai heir now, and Ogodai practically worships Subutai.” Yung Chu ignored the sarcastic rejoinder. “Killing Temujin wouldn't change much.”

  So poison the heir too. Look, you have to keep the armies out of India. If you can't kill, then think of something else. But there are five Assembly Adepts coming in less than two weeks, so if you can hold off Tetradates for that long, we should be okay. Now I've got to go. Good luck.

  “You too, Dag,” Yung Chu whispered to the fire, feeling suddenly heartsick and scared, caught out of place and time. “You too.”

  His hands still coated with greasy animal fat, Yung Chu strode rapidly to the Great Yurt, escorted by an honor guard of the Khan's elite bodyguard. He had protested when the Khan assigned the four men to guard him, but the rumors of a failed assassination caused Temujin to insist upon Yung Chu's acceptance. Fearing treachery, or a malevolent ensorcelment courtesy of Tetradates, the young disciple of Order no longer slept without first setting an exhaustive series of painstakingly woven wards to protect against any demonic or metaphysical assault. Fortunately, his precautions only helped cement his reputation among the barbarian warriors as a potent Astrologer.

  Having become accustomed to their strange charge's dabbling in the mystical arts, none of his enforced companions thought anything of the working he had performed that morning. It wasn't a Discordian spell, quite, but it wasn't one that his Assembly instructors would approve of either. But since his only other altenative was quite beyond the pale, he could only hope that the stern god of Harmony and Order would understand his dire straits and relent when the Day of Judging came. Putting his guilty misgivings behind him, Yung Chu entered the Khan's goatskin tent, knowing that in only two days the nine-tailed white banner of the Emperor of the Steppes was scheduled to cross the Indus.

  “Ah, Yeh Che'lyu! My eyes brighten with your presence,” the Khan said, openly pleased at his Prime Minister's arrival.

  Kasala, the Khan's beautiful Merkit concubine, was lying at her lord's feet but as Yung Chu drew closer to the Khan's pillowed seat, she rose gracefully and quietly made her sinuous way towards the back of the huge tent. Yung Chu's eyes couldn't resist following the exquisite swing of her retreat, and Temujin chuckled.

  “Yeh Che'lyu, your wisdom is such that I often forget how young you are. You need a wife!” At the stunned look on his Khitan minister's face, the barbarian ruler relented. “Well, at least a woman to call your own. You need one. A good woman is like a smooth-riding horse, Yeh Che'lyu; once you get in the saddle you don't want to get off!”

  He sniggered lewdly and smirked as he glanced back to where the lovely Merkit girl had disappeared. “You like her? She's yours.”

  “The Great Khan is too kind to his miserable servant!”

  Teumjin only laughed again. “You won't be miserable long!”

  Once more, Yung Chu noted the Khan's unusually playful demeanor, in very much the same way that the autumn still calmed the grass just before the storm winds of the Mongolian winter began to sweep the steppes. If he had any questions about the immanency of the invasion, they were gone now.

  “So why are your hands covered with fat?” the Great Khan wanted to know, pointing to Yung Chu's lard-dripping hands.

  His Prime Minister bowed respectfully, extending his arms palms-up for the Khan's review.

  “For you, Great Lord. I would anoint you with the Sky's blessing before your ride today.” Yung Chu held his breath, awaiting the superstitious Khan's response. He felt a chill inside as Temujin arched a slender eyebrow and shook his full head of hair that was still, for the most part, as black as the ravens that fed upon the slain.

  “And how did you know I planned to ride today?”

  Yung Chu swallowed and took a deep breath.

  “It is said that in two days the toumans begin the Indus crossing. This humble servant has noticed that the Great Khan often enjoys a ride before battle.”

  “Yes…heheheheh, a ride of one sort or another,” the Khan joked cheerfully, slapping the younger man's shoulder. “Anoint me then, Yeh Che'lyu, for I will ride long and hard tonight!”

  Letting out a slow sigh of relief, Yung Chu drew two vertical lines down the Khan's cheeks with his fingers, then connected them with a single horizontal stripe curving across the broad forehead. “Ride well, Great Lord,” he said quietly. He bowed once, and departed before he could repent of his actions.

  Late that night, a flash of green light exploded above the young Prime Minister's head. A man's voice shouted, more in surprise than pain, and Yung Chu heard feet pounding as he struggled to open his eyes. He muttered a few words to release the wards and sat up quickly, glancing about the tent. Shadows danced strangely in the smoky torchlight that illuminated the inside of the yurt as his nervous bodyguards kept their respectful distance. Outside the entrance, a guardsman clad in the Khan's imperial whites was clutching at his burned right hand, cursing violently, and keeping a wary eye on him.

  One of his personal bodyguards bowed respectfully.

  “Wise Lord, forgive us. We warned him not to wake you….”

  Yung Chu brushed his apologies aside. “It's okay, Ulgunai. Is anything amiss with the Emperor?”

  The Khan's man bowed even more deeply than Ulgunai. “The Khan of Khans requests your presence, Lord. He is… troubled.”

  Yung Chu nodded in understanding. “Go then, and tell the Khan I will attend him.”

  “I saw… a strange beast. Like a horse, but not a horse, standing on the banks of the Indus. Its skin was green like the spring plains, and it had a single horn, a horn like that of a goat, growing from the center of its sk
ull. It… it spoke to me, saying 'Temujin, strong you are, but no man can battle the Sky. This passage is forbidden. Return, or death will follow!'”

  The Khan's yellow face was pale, even by the crackling reddish light of the fire. “Tell me what it means,” he insisted feverishly. “Yeh Che'lyu, tell me the meaning of my dream!”

  “Peace, Majesty, peace…. What you saw was a unicorn, one of the magical shapes that the Sky sometimes takes in the dream-world. When a man dreams, his soul leaves his body and goes to another place, where things of this world exist in different forms, and where things not of this world may appear too.”

  Yung Chu took a closer look at the older man's face. Clearly the spell-dream he had woven had frightened the dread ruler of the Mongols badly, even worse than he had intended. He'd forgotten just how superstitious these primitive pagans could be.

  “The green color indicates sickness and disease, perhaps to be visited upon the toumans should we cross the river, or perhaps, may the Sky forbid it, to be visited upon your own person, Great Khan. But whatever the meaning, Lord, know that what is foretold in the spirit world will always come to pass.”

  His voice dropped lower as he strove to drive his point home.

  “And the message to you is clear, Great One. Not even one warrior may ride across the river into the Punjab! The Sky forbids it!”

  Genghis Khan nodded, beads of sweat dripping from his brow. “You are right, Yeh Che'lyu. We will not cross the Indus!”

  The Mongol captain was in a foul mood. A week ago the invasion of the rich empire of the Punjab had been called off for reasons unknown, and he shook his head bitterly at the thought of the plump, langorous women whose embraces he would never know. He smashed a callused fist against the worn leather of his saddle, infuriated by the knowledge that the wealthy, unwalled cities of the lower Indus valley remained safe and inviolate in their innocent splendor.

  The knowledge that the Tanguts of Hsi Hsia had revolted again against their Mongol overlords gave him little cheer despite the promise of a good fight sure to be offered by the proud eastern tribes. It was going to be a long, cold winter, and the captain had been looking forward to spending it in the sensual surroundings of a fallen Punjabi city, not warring against a familiar enemy on the frozen steppes.

  The captain scowled as one of his lieutenants rode up alongside him, and he glowered at the sallow-skinned young man as he made his report. He paid little heed as the lieutenant droned on and on, until the mention of an unusual party traveling south captured his attention.

  “…and Gogido said they did not even try to hide or run away!” The young man paused and reflected a moment. “Perhaps they are spies?”

  The captain's narrow eyes almost disappeared as he squinted at the horizon. “It is a strange thing,” he mused aloud. “Five men, dressed as Kin peasants, traveling far from their homeland. And taking little note of our patrols… I do not like that!”

  Thoughtfully, he chewed at his lower lip, reflecting on the possibilities as his horse continued its easy canter north. At last, he reached a decision.

  “They cannot be peasants. If they are not merchants attempting to avoid our taxes, they must be Tangut spies. Either way, we will take no chances. Take a troop of archers and ambush them as they crest a hilltop. Bring me their heads.

  An hour later, hearing the sound of onrushing hooves, the captain looked up and saw the young lieutenant galloping excitedly towards him, holding a heavy sheepskin bag slung before him.

  “You were wise, lord, to take precautions!” the lieutenant exclaimed. “For as they reached the top of the hill, we greeted them with a hailstorm of arrows, and the Sky guided our shafts! Look!”

  He lifted the bag from his horse's back and disgorged its contents upon the ground. Five severed heads lay there, still oozing blood and ichor. Three were Kin, but one appeared to be burned to a black crisp by the sun. And the last was hairless, its skin a strange pink color similar to that of the red-haired slaves the captain had seen once in the conquered cities of Khorasan.

  “A demon, then,” he grunted, nodding approvingly at the lieutenant. “Well done!”

  The Mongol cavalry rode on towards the great army assembling in Balkash. Behind them the sightless green eyes of the Master of Order stared fixedly at the endless horizon of the Transoxian plain.

  “Where are they!” Yung Chu whispered urgently into the fire. He wanted to release his anxieties by screaming at it, but didn't dare for fear of waking Kasala. Although like his bodyguards she had started to become used to his strange customs, he had no doubts that shrieking at nothing but burning kindling would manage to terrify the sleeping beauty. “You said they'd be here a week ago!”

  They should have arrived by now, Dag responded. The Discordian sounded worried. Has Tetradates been out of the camp?

  “No, he and the other generals have been closeted with the Khan for the past ten days. The Tanguts are proving a harder nut to crack this time around, and Temujin's recalled all of our top strategists from the field. I think they're trying to come up with a new plan of attack.”

  Well, that's good. Where in Eris's name can they be? Did you just say, our? You're starting to think like a Mongol!

  Yung Chu snorted, and they both fell silent for a minute or two, until a dark thought occurred to Yung Chu.

  “Dag, remember the reading?,” he asked. “The one that led us here in the first place?”

  Yeah, of course. Why…. oh, devils! the Discordian exclaimed. That's not good.

  “No, I don't think so. The only question is, are they the friends in the East or the North?”

  Cursed if I know. The voice inside the crackling flames fell quiet again, but Yung Chu knew the irritable Discordian was swearing under his breath. Looks like I'll have to contact the Assembly again and see what's taking them. In the meantime, take advantage of any opportunity to… you know, shake things up in the camp.

  “Perhaps,” Yung Chu said wearily. “I'll see what I can do.”

  Dag's sigh was audible. All right. Well, the Tanguts don't have any cities worth speaking of so I doubt Tetradates will bother there, which should buy us the time we need. Sit tight, and I'll keep you posted. Adios!

  The flames rose momentarily with a greenish flare then settled down and continued to lick hungrily at the firewood. Yung Chu sat and stared at the glowing reds and golds of the fire, silently wrestling with his conscience as he listened to the hissing and popping sounds of the wood being devoured.

  “Who were you talking to, Yeh Che'lyu?,” he heard a sultry voice behind him murmur.

  Unsettled, he spun around on his buttocks to see Kasala's almond eyes staring at him. She blinked once and licked painted lips with her dainty tongue, carefully studying his face. Though he doubted the Khan had ordered her to spy on him, he was loathe to put anything past the wily Mongol ruler.

  “Only a fire demon, lovely one,” he lied easily. “His name is Sivarodai and he roams the hells like a wolf upon the steppes, preying on the damned souls there.”

  He was amused to see her eyes widen as a look of alarm crossed her lovely face. Her fear almost made him burst out laughing.

  “Now I must go and tell the Khan of the evil secrets he has whispered to me.”

  “But it is late to call upon the Great One!” the captured courtesan protested.

  Yung Chu slowly stood up and surveyed the kneeling woman, her splendid golden body covered meagerly by the captured Turkish bedsilks, her high breasts quivering only slightly as she strove to hide her fear of him. The young apprentice licked his lips as a warm heat began to rise below his belly.

  “Perhaps you are right, it is late, yes!”

  He smiled in anticipation and took her slender hand in his own. He had broken so many of his vows already. What was one more?

  As the cool night breeze froze the glistening sweat into miniscule salt crystals upon his body, Yung Chu walked noiselessly across the Mongol camp to the Khan's great tent. He passed several bodyguards
, but the keen-eyed warriors in white never saw him, not even when he ducked his head and slipped through the entrance. He was invisible thanks to the masking spell he'd cast after Kasala had drifted safely off to sleep.

  Two hours after midnight, most of the tent's inhabitants were sleeping also, although soft cries and grunting noises betrayed the activities of a few tireless couples. Stealthily, Yung Chu made his way towards the Khan's usual place at the back, tip-toeing around the slumbering bodies of two pretty young Kin slave girls and a fat, elderly general sprawled between them.

  Finally he spotted the burly figure of the Emperor, stretched out in front of his throne of white horse-skins near the glowing embers of a dying fire. Although four young women slept nearby, it appeared as if the Khan had abjured his usual sport in favor of a solitary drinking bout, for three empty goatskin flasks at his side indicated a prodigious night's consumption. Standing over the unconscious man, Yung Chu's fingers fumbled at his belt for the jeweled dagger that had been the Khan's own gift to him. Quietly, he drew it forth from its sheath, and he felt its keen edge with his thumb. Bile rose in his throat as a wave of guilt crested inside his mind, but shaking his head determinedly, he bent down towards the sleeping man. There was no other choice.

  Suddenly, the Khan's eyes snapped open, and Yung Chu stifled a startled cry as the Emperor's yellow orbs stared up in the direction of his face. Though he knew the Mongol ruler could not see him, he held his breath, afraid to move, as Temujin grunted and rolled over, reaching blindly for his nearest concubine. As the bleary-eyed girl began to respond obediently to her lord's blandishments, Yung Chu softly sheathed his weapon and carefully made his way back towards the exit.

  For a man whose mission had just failed, he felt strangely exhilarated. Perhaps the gods did not ordain that he should forsake the most sacred of his vows and become a murderer. He might be guilty of many things, but at least his hands would not be stained with blood. Satisfied with the decrees of Fate, Yung Chu returned, unseen, to the warmth and safety of his own dwelling. He did not notice as one white-clad soldier standing in front of the Khan's yurt turned towards his companion.