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Escorts Barnet rode west now, intent on beating the wolf-winds home. He knew better than to be caught in the open, where the flesh could be stripped from one’s bones like meat under a sharp knife and not even the sturdy ponies of his people endured the trials easily. The endless blue sky had given way to nearly black night, the firmament above ablaze with stars and the glow of Sar, the moon, illuminated his way. The steppe gave way before his tireless mount, bringing him ever closer to home and his family.Before long, he could see fires flickering in the darkness and he gave in to the urge to shout in triumph at having outrun the winds. Moonlight eventually revealed the silhouettes of clusters of gers, the homes of his people. He blew a loud note on his horn, announcing his arrival. His pony snorted as he gently kicked the heels of his stout boots into its flanks and rode faster, eager for the comfort of its herd.The small village, a collection of gers arranged in a circle, remained quiet, although a few people gathered inside the common area to greet him- at the fore was Kula, his younger brother and a fine warrior. Behind him stood Turkina, their mother, Boldbator’s sister, Khorijin and his first wife, Sarantuya. The women all bowed respectfully, while his brother called loudly at his approach, holding a skin of koumiss overhead in salute.”Brother!” Kula shouted in his gravelly voice, as if to defy the noise of the mighty north winds. “You have returned to us! You were victorious, then?”Boldbator rode up and slipped easily off his horse, smacking it on the rump and sendig it trotting off to its covered pen, where the other ponies were gathered. He held up a sturdy leather bag, the bottom of which was browning and sticky. He patted the hilt of his sword with his free hand.”My yataghan tasted Delger’s neck, the dog barely put up a fight.” Boldbator replied, tossing the bag to the ground. The end opened and a grisly severed head rolled out, the face still registering the victim’s shock at having been liberated from its body.”Then your father is avenged,” Turkina said solemnly, poking the head with the toe of her shoe. “Arslan’s spirit will know peace now, and serve in the celestial army without distraction. Well done, my son. You honour the Tengger people.”Boldbator sighed in satisfaction, mostly thankful to have outrun the winds. He had set forth to avenge the murder of his father, Arslan, at the hands of the Sukh tribe, refusing any escort, even from his brother. He had recieved a vision from Umay, the goddess, instructing him to take on this great task alone, lest the birth of his destiny and a new world be prevented.He had infiltrated the Sukh lands under cover of night, killing silently until he found Delger, orkhan of his treacherous tribe. Their fight had been brief but fierce, ending only when Boldbator managed to slash Delger across the knee, sending him to the ground. He then removed the man’s head before Delger’s warrior’s arrived. Boldbator used a thunderbomb to scatter his foes and then fled from the ger. He set fire to several structures in the ensuing panic, making sure they did not have the time or resources to follow him.
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Kula and Turkina both nodded and returned to their ger. Escorts Barnet, as orkhan of the Tengger people since his father’s death, resided in his own ger, separate from his immediate family except for his sister, whom he had claimed due to a vision and was now his concubine. It was said in ancient lore that any woman who counted one hundred stars on a bright night would receive a vision of her husand-to-be. Both Khorijin and Sarantuya had recieved these visions although it caused bad blood between them. They had nearly killed one another several times before Boldbator intervened, taking Sarantuya for his wife and making his sister his official first concubine, their ranks now equal in the eyes of the Steppe Peoples.A servant opened the flap of his ger and closed it hastily, making sure to keep out the draft. The sting of the cold night air was replaced by the heavy, deep scent of the hearth, burning with the cloying, pungent smell of yak chips. He pulled off his fur-lined hat and sturdy boots, stretching his toes after the hours of riding. Thewomen helped him remove his del, the heavily-lined jacket his people wore to keep out the cold. Beneath this he wore raw silk breeches and a tunic, which covered his powerful frame.His ger, that of the orkhan, was more ornate than most, the walls lined with thick, insulating rugs and treasures of successful raids against other tribes or daring incursions across the tsagaan kherem, that mighty wall that separated the Steppe peoples from the empires of China. Gold, silver and weapons had been brought back, along with women and skilled artists or artisans. His Chinese bride, whose name had once been Mai but was now Galina, knelt and bowed low at his approach.”Welcome home, nökhör,” she intoned humbly, an exquisite trait that his wife and sister-concubine could not stand. “I am glad to see you are safe.”However much she might have hated the Tengger for taking her away from her civilized people, Galina was now genuinely grateful to always see Boldbator alive, because her death was certain if he was ever to perish. These were the realities of life on the steppes and she had learned them well, seemingly. She was once the daughter of an important minister in the Song empire but the city they had resided in was sacked and burned to the ground in a single night by a Tengger army led by Boldbator’s father, Arslan. Boldbator himself had slain her father and his guards, earning him the right to keep her as part of his plunder.But she had proven literate, even more so than the Uyghur scribes they’d captured and she had a strong command of the Escorts Barnet, so he honoured her as his wife, always certain to make sure that Sarantuya understood that she still came first.