"Chanar Ong Kho," Yamun said solemnly. "In a few moments we will ride among the army. I will give you the place of honor for our coming battle—leading the first charge against the Shou. I give you this because you are my anda, and only because of that. Do not dishonor yourself before the entire army." Chanar made no attempt to answer. "Give him his weapons," Yamun said, then spurred his horse forward.
The khahan's route took him and his entourage through the heart of the two hundred thousand. Koja marveled at the men's discipline. It reminded him just how well trained Yamun's soldiers were. Their insouciance on the march belied their rigid discipline on the field of battle. Two hundred thousand men waited on their horses in strict lines: ten men to an arban; one hundred to a jagun, which in turn formed minghans of one thousand; and the minghans were grouped into massive tumens. Each tumen formed a block of riders ten riders deep and one thousand men across. At their center was the tumen's standard, while the banners of the minghans formed a line of signal flags each man could see.
Two hundred thousand men and animals made enough noise for their presence to be known. As the khahan passed, the men hailed him with a mighty cheer. Even the ranks far from the khahan were not silent. There was a constant rumble as nervous men and horses waited for the signal to attack.
At last, Yamun, Koja, and Chanar reached the head of the army. Yamun's Kashik were set in the center of the line, at the forefront of the army. The khahan rode out to address them. "Men of the Kashik, finest of my warriors! Today, we will crush the armies of the Jade Throne. Ride under the banner of Chanar Ong Kho, the finest of my valiant men. Go forward and fight bravely, for here we will succeed or die!"
The Kashik raised a mighty shout, beating their lances against their swords. Hearing the clamor, the rest of the army took up the cry. The roar echoed in the valleys and across the plain. Koja could not imagine what it must have sounded like to the Shou defenders on the walls.
At a signal from Yamun, Chanar rode to the head of the Kashik. Two standard-bearers galloped behind, one carrying Chanar's banner and the other the standard of the Kashik. The riders took their positions behind the general. The command assigned, Yamun galloped back to where Koja waited.
Taking a position next to his white-tailed battle standard, Yamun surveyed the length of the line. On one side were Chanar and the main body of the Kashik, eight thousand strong. To the other side of the khahan was a line of one hundred white horses, each led by a Shou prisoner, some of the few taken in yesterday's debacle. Next to each horse was a quiverbearer. The Tuigan's black robes stood out starkly against the white mares.
"Everything is ready, Lord Yamun," a khan said.
"Good. Koja, begin."
The priest swallowed nervously and nodded. Giving his horse a gentle whip forward, he rode out ahead of the army. The prisoners, followed by the guards, led the hundred horses after him. Slowly, the lama rode across the plain, closer to the towering front of the Dragonwall. He continued to ride forward, entering the area that was shattered yesterday in Goyuk's attack. Bayalun's wizards had done a superb job of removing the rubble, their magic cutting avenues through the broken ground. There were still, however, grisly reminders of the men and horses that fell there only a day before.
The priest stopped when he got as close as he dared to the wall. He could see Shou archers training their arrows on the Tuigan procession. Only the presence of the Shou prisoners prevented them from firing. Koja lowered his head, took a deep breath, and then looked up. He felt calm, too preoccupied to be afraid. "Spirit of the Dragonwall," he called out, "hear me! Yamun Khahan, Illustrious Emperor of All People, gives to you a sacrifice of blood. Accept it and go in freedom and peace." Koja whispered a prayer beseeching Furo's forgiveness for what he was about to do. The priest gave the signal as soon as the prayer was done.
Knives in hand, one hundred guards reached out and slashed the throats of one hundred horses. The death screams of the beasts rang in Koja's ears. His own horse pranced and reared, forcing the priest to open his eyes. He could barely keep the mount under control. All around him the mares stumbled forward or lashed at their grooms, blood streaming down their white breasts, soaking the ground. Quickly they fell, one by one, into the dirt.
Koja was dazed. He heard a roar. At first the lama thought it was the war cry of the two hundred thousand men lined up behind him. Then, suddenly, the ground trembled. The shock waves built in strength, and Koja's horse reared and bolted, throwing the priest to the ground. All around Koja the guards struggled to keep their mounts under control.
Scrambling to his feet, the priest looked toward the Dragonwall and stopped in amazement. It was buckling, heaving upward, the foundations tearing from the earth. The brick masonry fell away in sheets, sweeping guardsmen off the battlements. The nearest watchtower heaved outward, rising up before settling into a crumbled heap. Koja looked to the gates. The huge wooden doors groaned against each other. The tall gatehouses swayed. There was a piercing crack as the span between the two towers shattered, raining stone onto the Shou garrison below.
Koja, surprised and terrified, sprinted for the safety of the khahan's banner. The guardsmen around him were also galloping for the safety of the Tuigan line. The ground heaved again, hurling the panting lama into the dirt. Sweat and dust running into his eyes, Koja stumbled to his feet and reeled forward. Unexpectedly, a hand thrust under his arm, squeezing his chest. With a jerk the priest was pulled from his feet and hauled on the back of a galloping mare.
"Hold tight, little lama," Koja's rescuer announced. The Kashik looked back at the priest with a snaggle-toothed grin.
Gasping, Koja clung to the man's waist. Behind him he could still hear the rumbling crash of masonry. "What's happening, priest? What did you do?" shouted the rider over his shoulder.
"More than I thought," Koja shouted back. The guard reined the hurtling steed to a stop just in front of the khahan's banner. Koja tumbled to the ground, and the horseman easily swung his mount around and galloped to his position in the battle line.
"We cannot fight in this madness!" Yamun shouted over the building noise. "Hold the signal for the attack until the wall stops moving!" The khahan sprang from his horse and stormed over to where the lama was sprawled.
"Look!" Koja cried as he glanced back toward the Dragonwall. He pointed to the great fortification.
A great, taloned claw burst through the soil, then another, gouging into the dirt along the structure's foundations. The wall split and cracked, revealing a spiny, scaled back arching and pushing upward. The scales glistened blue and brown along the length of the reptilian hide. Far to the right, away from the gate, the fortification exploded, scattering shards of brick and granite across the plain. Broken men hurtled off the battlements and fell, crushed, to the ground. A coiling tail, forked and pointed, thrashed free of the shattered battlements. Clouds of dust began to roil away from the stone wall, driven forward by the collapsing stone.
The grinding roar of cracking stone and the faint screams of men and horses were overwhelmed by a new sound, a howling cry of tremendous volume. It was part animalistic roar, part shouted cry. Koja wondered if this was the true voice of the dragon spirit.
Suddenly, the great gate shivered. Wood shrieked as the massive doors warped and bent. There was a popping crack as the hardwood valves split, the force of the sudden release blowing the wooden gates outward. The stone gatehouses to either side twisted and heaved. The immense gate of the Dragonwall was shattered.
"Standard-bearer! Get ready," Yamun shouted, barely heard over the destruction. "We ride forward now!" The khahan ran back and mounted his unruly horse.
Koja also ran to a horse. Over his shoulder, he looked back at the wall. There, in the yawning gate, the lama saw a pair of eyes, glistening with a lambent blue fire, fringed by the ornate carapace of a great dragon. It was the same set of eyes he had seen last night.
The vision lasted only a second. Driven by the sudden rush of wind, a column of dust spiralled into the air, explosively pushing the gatetowers to the side. The blockhouses splintered and fell, crashing onto the remains of the wall to either side of the gate. The banners of Shou that once adorned the tower peaks were snatched away by the wind and carried into the sky. Koja watched, too numb to be amazed, as the writhing column solidified to become the twisting serpentine shape of a majestic dragon. Before the priest could see any more, a choking cloud of dust and sand swept over the Tuigan line.
The whirling sandstorm passed in no more than a few minutes. Even before the dust cleared, the thunderous crashes of rock died away. After the chaos that came before, everything now seemed still. Coughing and gagging, Koja struggled with his horse.
"It worked, priest! Better than you promised!" Yamun shouted. Koja turned and looked where the khahan pointed.
Ahead, where the Dragonwall had been, with its imposing gate and towering walls, was a gaping breach. The gatehouses were shattered, the heavy wooden doors in splinters. The towers had fallen away from the road, leaving the opening clear. At other points to the left and right, the wall was also breached, tumbled into rough piles.
Yamun barked out commands as he gestured toward points along the wall. "Standard-bearer, signal Chanar. He is to take the Kashik through the center. He will lead the attack! Hurry! Hurry, before they can recover!" Yamun yelled at the dazed khans around him, shouting them into motion.
It dawned on Koja that he stood in the path of two hundred thousand warriors. Quickly he tried to move his horse to the side, but there was no safe escape. He could either charge forward into battle or risk being trampled where he stood.
"Signal the khans to be ready!" Yamun ordered. The white yak tails dipped, giving the signal the warriors waited for. As the command was relayed through the army, the men of each tumen raised their war cry. Once again the air thundered with the voice of destruction.
"Attack!" shouted the khahan, nodding to the drummers.
The war drums sounded, signaling the Kashik to move. Chanar, for a second, reined in his horse, almost refusing to charge. The Kashik began to advance behind him anyway. Finally the general stood in his saddle and whipped his horse forward. The mount leaped into motion and behind it swept the black-robed mass of the Kashik, eight thousand strong. Before the first men had even reached the crumbled wall, Yamun was shouting orders for the other tumens to charge and whipped his own horse forward.
Yamun charged at full gallop, surrounded by his khans. Koja rode in their midst, dragged along by the wave of men around him.
In a moment the Tuigan reached the shattered gate; in another they poured through the breach. The Shou garrison that once manned the walls and filled the towers was shattered. Generals and troopers alike had been lost. Those who survived were already streaming back from the broken fortification, some forming ragged units of several thousand, many more fleeing the mounted doom that poured through the gaps. With a howl of triumph, the Tuigan horsemen swept down upon the routed enemy. The great battle of the Dragonwall was won before it had even begun.
Epilogue
Koja sipped on a cup of tea brewed in the Shou style. On his throne, Yamun drank the vile salted brew favored by the Tuigan. In front of the warlord was spread a map of the Mai Yuan province of Shou Lung, which had been found in the rubble of the gatetower. On it Koja had carefully marked the movements of Yamun's scouts in broad, red arrows. They fanned out from a single point on the Shou frontier, reaching like fingers into the interior. The scouts had been riding for many days, some harrying the fleeing enemy and others shadowing the small garrisons that were now on the move. The scope of the Tuigan success had come as a surprise to the khahan, and, Koja suspected, to the Shou emperor, too.
"Yamun," Koja asked, as he blew the steam off his cup, "what will you do now? Continue the invasion?"
Yamun looked up from slurping his tea. "First we'll wait for Hubadai and his men. Then we must fatten the horses. When this is done, I'll conquer Shou Lung," Yamun answered confidently.
The priest didn't doubt the khahan's resolve. Already Yamun had done more than Koja thought was possible. "Shou Lung is huge, Khahan. You do not have the men to rule all of this land."
"Before I worry about ruling it, I must conquer it," Yamun pointed out. "Besides, I have men like you to manage my empire." The khahan rolled up the map. "Now, there is business to attend to." The khahan set his tea aside and called to the quiverbearer near the door. "Bring the prisoners in."
The man quickly stepped outside. There were a few muffled commands and then the door flap was pulled open. Sechen, now a khan, and several Kashik entered the yurt and took positions by the walls. Immediately after came Chanar and Bayalun. The general was still dressed in the clothes he had worn into battle several days ago. They were dirty, bloodstained, and torn. Bayalun wore a simple brown and yellow robe. The sleeves were long, hiding the bonds on her wrists. On Koja's advice, the khadun's hands were bound to keep her from casting spells. The priest did not see any need to gag her. Both conspirators moved slowly, reluctantly. They obviously dreaded this audience.
The guards led the pair to the center of the yurt and roughly pushed them down to their knees. Chanar kept his eyes to the floor, but Bayalun glared venomously at her stepson.
Yamun rose from his throne and slowly circled the two. Finally, he spoke in solemn tones. "You've been proven guilty of treachery against your khahan. Now, I must give my final judgment." At this Chanar raised his head, stubbornly ready to meet whatever doom Yamun might name.
"By law," Yamun continued, "you should be taken into the wilderness and strangled. This would satisfy the ancient codes of our people." He paused and let the prisoners think about their fate.
With a heavy sigh, the khahan continued. "I'll not do this." Yamun stopped at his scribe's table and motioned for the man to write down his words. "General Chanar, I've not forgotten the battles where you stood at my side when all were ready to run. My anda, once I swore that I would forgive your crimes though they were nine times nine. This I have done. General Chanar, I let you live. But you will no longer command the tumens of the Tuigan. I banish you from my sight, to the command of a minghan of scouts." The pained look on the general's face told everyone that he considered that fate worse than death.
Yamun looked down at the scribe, who was furiously writing. "A jagun of troops are to be Chanar's guard. If any evidence of further treachery comes to my attention, Chanar will be put to death." The khahan turned to his once-loyal friend. "Perhaps you may work your way back to a command, but do not think to cross me again."
The khahan scowled as he turned to his stepmother. "Bayalun Khadun, you've done much and deserve a painful, long death." The woman stiffened. "However, I have no guarantee that death will end your plotting. Your sorcerous powers could strike from beyond the grave. At the suggestion of my anda, you are to retire from worldly life and renounce your claim to the title khadun. Your guards are disbanded. You will spend the rest of your days in the magic-deadlands of Quaraband. Sechen Khan is your jailor. Do you object to this, Mother?"