The Tiger Queens Page 8

  “My son uses you well,” Hoelun said, straightening to stretch her back. Temulun played at her feet, her fingers tangled in a skein of brown yarn. In the distance Temujin and his younger brother, Khasar, practiced shooting arrows at a bag of feathers strung from a tree. The occasional lucky shot would send a puff of white feathers into the air, like downy leaves twirling to the earth.

  “We use each other well,” I said, flushing and adding a bit of precious salt to the stew. My arms ached from a morning spent churning butter, turning blocks of fragrant white cheese in the sun, and mixing a cauldron of salt tea with Hoelun’s giant iron ladle. Other parts of me ached pleasantly from my night spent in Temujin’s arms.

  She chuckled. “I pray you will always bring such joy to him. We all hope you will soon gift him with a strong foal.”

  I’d just buried the bloody rags from my monthly bloods; unclean blood was never burned inside a ger because it would offend the spirit of the fire. Hoelun and I both knew there was no child in my womb yet. Hoelun rose then and shuffled past Mother Khogaghchin. “A woman with your gifts would be a prize for any man. A child of Temujin’s would mark you as his so other men would be less tempted to lay claim to you.”

  Mother Khogaghchin raised an eyebrow at me while Hoelun made a great show of sorting through her meager box of dented and mostly broken skinning tools. I ducked my head, recalling the way she’d watched Jamuka ride off only days ago.

  I knew then that I’d have to watch myself around my new mother. Hoelun’s eyes missed nothing.

  Chapter 6

  W e made plans to break camp and leave the barren cliffs of the Sengur River in search of fresh summer pastures for the animals. The few sheep in Temujin’s pitiful herd were sheared, the carts packed, and all the tents save the largest lay dismantled in preparation. We would drink traditional salt tea in the morning before packing everything—including the ger poles and the weakest lambs and kids—on the backs of our strongest animals to travel south. I was among the last awake on that fateful night, tormented by the others’ snores and the constant pressure of Hoelun’s eyes on me.

  I drifted toward the world of dreams until a woman’s high-pitched scream ripped me back to reality.

  At first I thought it was Temulun screaming during a child’s nightmare, but then I realized it was Mother Khogaghchin, frantic, her white hair streaming loose behind her like tendrils of the wind.

  “Get up,” she shrieked. “They’re coming to kill us!”

  I heard the rumble of approaching horses then, felt the fearful shudder of the Earth Mother. Temujin’s enemies had raided his clan countless times during the years we’d been separated, but I’d assumed the alliance with Ong Khan would protect us despite the clans’ constant jostling for control of the herds and the spoils of war that would help them survive each winter. My knees trembled as my bowels threatened to turn to water.

  “Don’t stand there, girl,” Khogaghchin yelled, shaking me. “The Tayichigud will slaughter us in our beds!”

  Hoelun leapt from her blankets, and our meager army of men and boys snapped awake in the face of an assault. The Tayichigud had attacked Temujin before our marriage and weren’t likely to forget the insult of his escape from bondage. Temujin slung his bow and arrows over his back, tucked a knife into my boot, and shoved me toward the herds. “Get to the horses!”

  I pulled Sochigel toward the wide-eyed animals. The horses pawed nervously at the ground, throwing their manes and snorting as Teb Tengeri pulled himself onto his thick-legged mount without a thought for anyone else. Still running, I realized that Hoelun had fallen behind, dragging Temulun after her. The girl’s face was red, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Sochigel—”

  The old woman nodded, released my arm, and hobbled toward the horses as fast as her old legs could carry her. I ran back to help Temulun, tucking the girl under my arm so Hoelun could clamber onto a dun-colored mare. I passed her daughter up to her.

  The first hint of daylight formed a golden backdrop for the growing haze of dust in the east. I turned to find my mount, then gasped at the awful realization.

  There weren’t enough horses.

  “Borte,” Temujin hollered, offering his hand. “Let’s go!”

  “No!” Hoelun yelled, her horse prancing and straining against the reins. “The Tayichigud are after us. They’ll steal her if they catch us, just as your father did me!”

  “I’d hunt down every last one of them if they did,” Temujin shouted.

  Cold dread spiraled down into my stomach and filled my mouth with the metallic tang of fear as Temujin echoed the words of my curse. War—and the prophecy of blood and death—would be inevitable if Hoelun spoke the truth.

  A silver-white gelding stepped between us, and its rider addressed Temujin, his voice crisp and steady amidst the chaos.

  “Your wife will return to you.” Teb Tengeri placed one fist over his heart. “I swear it.”

  “No!” Temujin shouted, shaking his head. His warhorse sidestepped the shaman to stand before me. “My wife comes with us, or we stay and fight.”

  Nothing in the bones could have prepared me for the decision I now had to make. I couldn’t watch Temujin and his family being slaughtered before me, their blood feeding the grasses and their eyes glassy with death.

  Bells tinkled behind me and I turned to see Mother Khogaghchin harness a speckled ox to a rickety old cart loaded with wool.

  “Borte is safest if she’s not with you,” she said. “I’ll hide her. No one will search an old woman’s cart.”

  “Leave me,” I said to Temujin, shocked at the evenness of my voice. I stepped back, lengthening and filling the space between my husband and me with cold air. “I’m safe with Khogaghchin.”

  The battle in Temujin’s heart was written plain on his face. I’d slow his horse if I went with him, and then be forced to witness the inevitable bloodshed. If I stayed behind, at least there was hope for everyone else.

  “I won’t leave you.” He leaned down from his mount, grabbed my hand, and tried to haul me onto his horse’s bare back, wasting precious time.

  I stood on tiptoes and clasped his forearm. “Everyone here depends on you.”

  He glanced at his family waiting on their horses, the resolve crumbling on his face. “Wait for me at the Tungelig River,” he said, the words hot in my ear as he crushed me to him from atop his horse. “I promise I’ll find you again.”

  My eyes stung, but I took a deep breath of man, earth, and horses. The scent of my husband of only a few days, and the last piece of his soul I might ever possess.

  He squeezed my hand, and I felt his deep inhale in my hair. “I love you, Borte Ujin.”

  “Go!” I choked on the word. “I’ll see you soon.”

  My husband kicked his heels and tore toward the forest with the rest of his family, leaving me alone with an old woman and a speckled ox. Sochigel already lagged far behind the others, and I offered a quick prayer to the Earth Mother for her protection. Temujin glanced back once and for a moment I both hoped and feared he’d return for me. Instead, he spurred his horse in the ribs and galloped away.

  “Hurry, girl!” Mother Khogaghchin waved me toward the cart. “Hide under the wool!”

  I dug my way down into the pile of downy wool, as soft and warm as a womb, just as the cart jerked into motion in the direction of Temujin and his family.

  “Not that way!” I shoved the wool from my face. “You’ll lead the Tayichigud straight to everyone. Go toward the raiders!”

  Khogaghchin gaped at me as if I’d lost my mind. The dark dust cloud aimed at us grew bigger, hundreds of horses headed toward us as if chased by wolves. “It’s their only chance,” I said. “Please.”

  The old woman gnawed her lip with fleshy gums, then flicked the reins. “You’re mad as an ibex in mating season,” she said. “But you may be right.
”

  The cart turned in an agonizingly slow circle, pointing away from my husband and into the unknown. I ducked under the wool, my heart threatening to break loose from my chest when the thunder of hooves finally surrounded us.

  “What’s in the cart?”

  My throat constricted at the man’s accent, the words broken and bent in at least three places. These were not the Tayichigud, but the Merkid, blood enemies of my husband’s family and the same people from whom Yesugei had stolen Hoelun. Yet there were three clans of Merkid; I could only hope this wasn’t the one Yesugei had wronged.

  “Who are you?” the leader shouted. “And where are you going?”

  “I’m an old servant of Temujin’s mother, with one foot already in my grave,” Khogaghchin said. “I helped shear his sheep, and now I’m returning home with my portion of the wool. That is, unless one of you boys would care to remind a dried-up old woman what it’s like to have a young man between her legs.”

  The soldiers laughed and I choked on my shock. “We heard Temujin just filled his bed,” the man said. “Is that true?”

  “It is, although the girl has the face of a horse.”

  I scowled at that but bit my tongue.

  “We’ve come to revenge the kidnapping of Hoelun by Yesugei the Brave,” the leader said. “Is that Temujin’s tent over there?”

  I would have snorted had I not been so terrified, but I managed to curse the spirits that these weren’t the other two camps of Merkid. Hoelun’s kidnapping had likely taken place before these men were born; this was simply a convenient excuse for a raid to steal horses and exert their strength over a weaker clan.

  “It is.” Khogaghchin smacked her gums and the horses pawed the ground. “I left before the others woke, having helped myself to some extra wool.”

  The men laughed again and the leader gave the command for them to spread out to find Temujin. Khogaghchin waited until the raiders were behind us to whip the ox. My stomach lurched along with the cart. There were only two remaining outcomes once the Merkid discovered the empty tent: They’d follow Temujin’s trail or come back for us. Or both.

  I mumbled prayers to the Eternal Blue Sky and the nearby mountain spirits, tasting the wool amidst the smell of my own fear. This was no usual raid. It was revenge.

  We heard Temujin just filled his bed.

  And I was the target.

  There was a delicate balance of power on the steppes that was upset when men from the lesser clans thought to grab power from those with better grazing lands and stronger herds. It was an unfortunate and terrifying truth that women were often stolen along with the horses they’d once herded, and were raped and forced to live as wives to the thieves who had ripped them from their hearths and families. Yesugei had raided the Merkid years ago to steal Hoelun and had set into motion a spiral of revenge and hatred that continued even now that his bones had turned to dust.

  These men came to avenge Hoelun, yet it was she who had suggested Temujin abandon me. I wondered for a moment which trickster spirit had a hand in this game, but there was a crack and the cart lurched again. I swallowed my scream, wondering if the Merkid had redoubled to attack. Mother Khogaghchin’s blood might be feeding the grasses of the steppe now.

  “Horseshit!”

  My relief at Khogaghchin’s curse was short-lived. I peered through the downy cloud of black wool and moaned in horror at the sight before me.

  Dawn was beginning to stretch fully across the sky, illuminating the hopelessness of our situation. Built for strength and not for speed, the rickety old cart had snapped its axle. The crossbar had splintered and one wheel was askew.

  Before us lay the open steppe, and behind us, the abandoned tents and the raiders. Beyond that was the security of the forest. We might as well wish for a friendly north wind to swoop down and carry us to safety.

  There was only one choice, impossible though it was.

  I clambered out of the cart. “We’ll have to run for the woods.”

  Khogaghchin squinted in the direction of the mountains and gave a strangled laugh. “These old legs of mine won’t make it halfway there.”

  “I’ll carry you.”

  It was hopeless and we both knew it, but perhaps some ancestor spirit would send the Tayichigud in the opposite direction if we made a wide enough circle. It was the only option save waiting for their inevitable attack.

  The old woman stared at me in disbelief. “The face of a horse and stubborn as a goat. I don’t know why Temujin married you.”

  I crouched and motioned for her to climb onto my back. “We don’t have much time.”

  The storm of hooves and dust changed direction, doubling back toward us.

  “Too late,” Khogaghchin hissed, throwing wool at me. “Get back in the cart and don’t make a sound.”

  I huddled down into the wool, breathing in the heavy scent of lanolin and my own terror. The rumble of horses surrounded us, and then came the muffled grunts of a struggle.

  “I told you—I’m just carrying wool,” Khogaghchin said, but panic threaded her voice.

  The man from before barked at his men. “Get off your horses, you lazy yaks, and see what—or who—is in there.”

  Men dismounted and stomped toward me. The cart door creaked and hands pulled off the precious wool, as if digging me out of a cave. But instead of the light of freedom, they pulled me into the darkness of the enslaved.

  “She’s here.” Greedy eyes and two lines of brown teeth leered at me. The soldier yanked me out by my hair, but I gritted my teeth against the pain. I would never let them see my fear.

  Another raider held Mother Khogaghchin, her spindly arms pinned behind her back. A third woman was slung over a Merkid horse, her feet hanging down so I could see her beaded moccasins. Silent Sochigel, so proud of her needlework.

  “Two old women and a useless slave,” I lied, stumbling as the brown-toothed raider pushed me from the cart into the dirt. I scrambled to my feet. “I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”

  Three men looked down at me from their horses, their feathered helmets and tasseled gold belts proclaiming their positions as chiefs. “I am Toghtoga, chief of the Merkid,” one said. His nose was big and flat, as if he’d been hit in the face with a heavy pan, and his belt was decorated with the imprint of golden arrows and tied with thick knots of black leather tassels. “Long ago, Yesugei the Brave stole Hoelun from our brother Chiledu. It’s taken a generation, but we’ve finally found revenge on the clan of Yesugei and Temujin.”

  “I care little for the history of your clan’s petty squabbles,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Only that you release us.”

  His grin made me shudder.

  “No slave speaks with such fire and surety.” The flat-faced chief leaned down to caress my cheek, ignoring my recoil. “You were Temujin’s wife, at least until today.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m still Temujin’s wife.”

  “Not anymore, girl,” he said. “Now you belong to the Merkid.”

  * * *

  They gave me to a thick-necked warrior named Chilger the Athlete.

  He was the youngest brother of Chiledu—Hoelun’s first husband, whom she’d been stolen from—so the Merkid claimed that justice had been done as they bound my wrists and gagged me with a horsehair rag. Chilger plucked me from the ground onto the saddle before him and backhanded me when I struggled, leaving me with white spots in my eyes and a ringing in my ears. “You’re a sweet little thing,” he said, squinting so his eyes gleamed like black beetles. He twisted my hair around his hand like a guide rope, as the other slipped to my breast and gave it a painful squeeze. “I’ve a mind to brand you right now.”

  “Enough, Chilger.” The flat-nosed chief glared. “We don’t have time for games. You can enjoy your prize later.”

  Mother Khogaghchin was flung over a hors
e as well, claimed as a slave like Sochigel, and together we set off in Temujin’s direction again, galloping so that my backside rubbed against the hardness of Chilger’s desire.

  We rode through thickets and swamps toward the khan of all mountains, Mount Burkhan Khaldun, with its forest so dense that a snake could barely slip among the trees. Three times we circled the mountain in pursuit of Temujin, until the sun set and wolves howled in the distance. Mother Khogaghchin slumped against her captor, a grizzled old warrior, her pink mouth open in sleep. Sochigel still hadn’t regained consciousness. I sat as stiff as a tent pole, trying to avoid contact with Chilger despite his arm tight around my waist. Although I was bound and helpless, the cold length of Temujin’s knife in my boot reassured me, overlooked by the Merkid in their haste to track my husband.

  “We have what we came for.” The flat-nosed chief spoke to the other two, the wind carrying his words. “There’s no point in further pursuit. Revenge is ours.”

  The three conversed for a moment more, then separated and raised their fists in a salute. Every Merkid warrior lifted his voice in a chilling victory cry that shook the sleeping crows from the trees and made my mouth go dry.

  I wondered if Temujin heard the shout, if he would come for me.

  Or if I could escape.

  As if reading my thoughts, Chilger’s arm around me tightened. We turned and galloped away from the mountains, each step taking me farther from my family. The horsehair gag muffled my cry of pain when we finally stopped and Chilger dragged me from the saddle of his brown warhorse. The men hooted and leered, many of them already guzzling airag from their leather flasks and gnawing thick strips of dried horsemeat between their teeth. I hadn’t eaten since the night before—nestled under Temujin’s arm and laughing while his sister tried to juggle balls of felt—and now my stomach roiled with fear and hunger.