Temujin saw the adult eagle coming as a flicker of darkness above his head. It was moving faster than he would have believed possible and he only had time to raise an arm before he heard Kachiun yell and their single stone thumped into the bird’s side, knocking it off its strike. It screamed in rage as real as he’d ever heard from an animal, reminding Temujin that this was a hunter, with a hunter’s instincts. He saw the bird try to flap its huge wings, scrabbling at the ledge for balance. Temujin could do nothing but crouch in that confined space and try to protect his face and neck from the lunging claws. He heard it screech in his ear and felt the wings beat against him before the bird fell, calling in anger all the way. Both boys watched the eagle spiral down and down, barely in control of the descent. One wing was still, but the other seemed to twist and flutter in the updraught. Temujin breathed more slowly, feeling his heart begin to slow. He had the bird for his father and perhaps he would be allowed to train the red bird for himself.
Bekter and Khasar had joined Temuge with the ponies by the time Temujin made his slow way down. Kachiun had stayed with him, aiding where he could so that Temujin never had to scramble for a hold, or risk his precious cargo. Even so, when he finally stood on the flat ground and looked up to the heights, they seemed impossibly far away; already strange, as if other boys had climbed them.
‘Did you find the nest?’ Khasar asked, seeing their answer in their pride.
Kachiun nodded. ‘With two eagle chicks in it. We fought off the mother and took them both.’
Temujin let his young brother tell the story, knowing that the others would not understand what it had been like to crouch with the world under his feet and death beating against his shoulders. He had not been afraid, he’d found, though his heart and body had reacted. He had experienced a moment of exhilaration on the red hill and it disturbed him too much to talk of it, at least for the moment. Perhaps he would mention it to Yesugei when the khan was in a mellow mood.
Temuge too had spent a miserable night, though he had been able to shelter with the ponies and had occasional squirts of warm milk to sustain him. It didn’t occur to the other four to thank him for his sighting of the eagle. Temuge hadn’t climbed with them. All he had from his brothers was a hard clip from Bekter when he discovered that Temuge had emptied the mare’s teats during the night. The little boy howled as they set off, but the others had no sympathy. They were all parched and starving, and even the usually sunny Khasar frowned at him for his greed. They had soon left him behind as they trotted together across the green plain.
The boys saw their father’s warriors long before they were in sight of the gers of the tribe. Almost as soon as they were out of the shadow of the red hill they were spotted, the high-pitched horn calls carrying a long way.
They did not show their nervousness, though the presence of riders could only mean their absence had been noticed. Unconsciously, they rode a little closer together as they recognised Eeluk galloping towards them and saw that he did not smile in greeting.
‘Your father sent us out to find you,’ Eeluk said, addressing the words to Bekter.
Temujin bristled automatically. ‘We’ve spent nights out before,’ he replied.
Eeluk turned his small, black eyes on him and ran a hand over his chin. He shook his head. ‘Not without warning, not in a storm, and not with your mother giving birth,’ he said, speaking sharply as if to scold a child.
Temujin saw Bekter was flushing with shame and refused to let the emotion trouble him. ‘You have found us, then. If our father is angry, that is between him and us.’
Eeluk shook his head again, and Temujin saw the flash of spite in his eyes. He had never liked his father’s bondsman, though he could not have said why. There was malice in Eeluk’s voice as he went on.
‘Your mother almost lost the child through worrying about the rest of you,’ he said.
His eyes demanded Temujin lower his gaze, but instead the boy felt a slow anger building. Riding with eagles next to his chest gave him courage. He knew his father would forgive them anything once he saw the birds. Temujin raised a hand to stop the others and even Bekter reined in with him, unable just to ride on. Eeluk too was forced to turn his pony back to them, his face dark with irritation.
‘You will not ride with us, Eeluk. Go back,’ Temujin said. He saw the warrior stiffen and shook his head, deliberately. ‘Today we ride only with eagles,’ Temujin said, his face revealing nothing of his inner amusement.
His brothers grinned around him, enjoying the secret and the frown that troubled Eeluk’s hard features. The man looked to Bekter and saw that he was staring into nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Then he snorted. ‘Your father will beat some humility into your thick skins,’ he said, his face mottling with anger.
Temujin looked calmly at the older man, and even his pony was absolutely still.
‘No. He will not. One of us will be khan one day, Eeluk. Think of that and go back, as I told you. We will come in alone.’
‘Go,’ Bekter said, suddenly, his voice deeper than any of his brothers.
Eeluk looked as if he had been struck. His eyes were hidden as he spun his mount, guiding only with his knees. He did not speak again, but at last he nodded sharply and rode away, leaving them alone and shaking with an odd release of tension. They had not been in danger, Temujin was almost certain. Eeluk was not fool enough to draw steel on Yesugei’s sons. At worst, he might have thrashed them and made them walk back. Still, it felt as if a battle had been won and Temujin sensed Bekter’s gaze on his neck the whole way to the river and his father’s people.
They smelled the tang of urine on the wind before they saw the gers. After spending winter in the shadow of Deli’un-Boldakh, the scent had sunk into the soil in a great ring around the families. There was only so far a man was willing to walk in the dark, after all. Still, it was home.
Eeluk had dismounted near their father’s ger, obviously waiting to see them punished. Temujin enjoyed the skulking man’s interest in them and kept his head high. Khasar and Kachiun took their lead from him, though Temuge was distracted by the smell of cooking mutton and Bekter assumed his usual sullen expression.
Yesugei came out as he heard their ponies whinny a welcome to the others in the herd. He wore his sword on his hip and a deel robe of blue and gold that reached down to his knees. His boots and trousers were clean and well brushed and he seemed to stand even taller than usual. His face showed no anger, but they knew he prided himself on the mask that all warriors had to learn. For Yesugei it was no more than the habit of a lifetime to assess his sons as they rode up to him. He took note of the way Temujin protected something at his chest and the barely controlled excitement in all of them. Even Bekter was struggling not to show pleasure and Yesugei began to wonder what his boys had brought back.
He saw too that Eeluk hovered nearby, pretending to brush down his pony. This from a bondsman who let his mare’s tail grow thick with mud and thorns. Yesugei knew Eeluk well enough to sense his sour mood was directed at the boys rather than himself. He would have shrugged if he had not adopted a warrior’s stillness. As it was, he dismissed Eeluk’s concerns from his mind.
Khasar and Kachiun dismounted in such a way that Temujin was hidden for a moment. Yesugei watched closely and saw in a flash that Temujin’s tunic was moving. His heart began to beat faster in anticipation. Still, he would not make it too easy for them.
‘You have a sister, though the birth was harder for your absence. Your mother was almost blood lost with fear for you.’
They did lower their gazes at that. He frowned, tempted to thrash each one of them for their selfishness.
‘We were at the red hill,’ Kachiun murmured, quailing under his father’s gaze. ‘Temuge saw an eagle there and we climbed for the nest.’
Yesugei’s heart soared at the news. There could