The Plains of Ningguta
Once, a great realm had ruled all of Liaodong. Balhae.
Its capital, Sanggyeong Yongcheonbu, had been vast enough to stand beside Chang'an, the capital of the Tang Empire. Even in this barren, thinly peopled north, the ruins were enough to tell you that countless souls had once raised a mighty kingdom here. But the enormous square outer wall, nearly ten miles around, had mostly fallen in, and the sight no longer pressed awe upon a man so much as a bleak, hollow emptiness.
Clip-clop, clip-clop...
A company of cavalry passed the great wall. The plain was wide, with little on it worth guarding against, yet the eyes of the black-armored riders sweeping their surroundings were razor-sharp. These were men who had lived their whole lives as hunters, ranging mountain and forest, chasing game from horseback since they were children—soldiers tempered by years of drill and real war. They were the spearpoint of Bayan Gurun, raised by Kundulen Khan and forged by the Amba Beile. The patrols of the Kara Cho'oha knew no such thing as carelessness.
Except for the hulking man at their head, yawning so wide it looked as if his jaw might split.
"Haaaaaam.... I'm bored."
Ulgyan smacked his lips and urged his horse on.
"Maybe I shouldn't have come."
"Shall we turn back even now? There's really no need for Guchu Ulgyan to ride patrol in person..."
"No. No. Hunting's gotten dull too. Riding out this far, seeing the sights, making sure you lot are doing it properly..."
Ulgyan pulled off his helmet and scratched his head. The niru ejen leading the patrol bound north bowed without a word of protest.
At a glance Ulgyan looked pathetic. But no man of the Kara Cho'oha failed to know what a tremendous batur he was. Bayan Gurun's foremost batur—aside from Amba Beile Karaelzigen, people whispered he stood first among the guchu.
"Ah, really, at first it was good to be back home. The weather's cool, the hunting's fun, and we train by tearing all over the plain."
"I-is that so?"
"But that only lasted a little while. It's boring here, isn't it?"
Ulgyan grumbled and shrugged.
"When we were ranging the battlefields across the sea in Jiangnan, you know? On the Khan's order we'd charge straight in and smash the backs of those bastards squeaking up in the mountains! Cut across a battlefield swarming like ants and take those clumsy Nikan cavalry...."
The niru ejen didn't let it show, but inwardly he winced. That damned Jiangnan story had been repeated so often his ears were about to bleed. Still, he could not afford to earn the dislike of Ulgyan, one of only five gusa ejen in all of Bayan Gurun.
"The food down there was incredibly good, and there were so many strange things! But here everybody's afraid of our Bayan Gurun now, so there's nothing to fight, and no matter how often we go out on patrol, nobody shows up..."
In the old days it had not been rare to chase men who dared defy the Khan's commands and rise against him, or who committed crimes and fled. But the many tribes that had sworn loyalty to Bayan Gurun followed Kundulen Khan's laws of their own accord, and the judges the Khan appointed mediated disputes between the tribes, and peace had come.
At first the Jurchen chieftains, who had submitted before Kundulen Khan's endless wealth and mighty arms, had sometimes grumbled to themselves that the interference was too much. Little by little, though, they began to grasp the worth of the peace and stability the Khan's laws and the judges' mediation gave them. Iron farm tools and cheap salt, hard to come by in the barren north, warm cotton cloth and padded coats—once they could trade for such things freely, their households grew markedly better off. And for ambitious young men dreaming of wealth and advancement, the road south to Jiangnan stood open, a campaign that paid enormous rewards.
And so Bayan Gurun was enjoying its peace and prosperity.
"How much fun is that Garshakan having, I wonder? Tch—next turn is Indahun again? This time he ought to yield it to me... huh?"
Grumbling, Ulgyan drove his horse north. Quicker than any of the riders keeping their grim watch, he caught the dust cloud beyond the horizon.
"What's that? Is there another niru to the north?"
"No. I'm certain of it. No one out on patrol, and none of the hunters either."
This was Ningguta—land whose opening had begun only this year, following the Hurha River north from Guju, the third settlement. In a word, Bayan Gurun's northernmost front.
Ulgyan's nostrils flared. His face flushed red, and blood threaded his eyes.
"What sons of bitches, without a scrap of fear...."
Excited, he snorted and squeezed his horse's barrel between his legs, picking up speed. The black riders followed as a matter of course, closing on those who had trespassed upon their lord's land.
"Guchu Ulgyan! A group is being chased. It looks like refugees, fleeing from the north..."
"Refugees?"
"Isn't there still heavy fighting in Ilan Hala?"
Only then did Ulgyan recall what his cousin Darhan had told him.
"Good! Doesn't matter who they are! They set foot on the Khan's land without leave, so they'll pay the price!"
"Yes! Your orders!!!"
Ulgyan gave the command in a single breath.
"You take the niru and hold the right wing! I'll go with my own niru on the left! When I signal, both wings trample them!"
The black riders split left and right, sweeping past the refugees who fled screaming in terror.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud....
The enemy came on fast, raising a cloud of dust. Ulgyan burst out laughing and roared.
"Kahahaha!!!! This is it! This is it! The conch—blow the conch!!! Send the signal!!!!"
Bwoooooooong—————
A low, heavy note from the conch horn. Together with the drum of hooves, the cavalry of both wings raised a war cry.
Elite cavalry, ranked without even a whistle. Blue-bright spearheads to the fore, the packed formation smashed the enemy horse in a single rush.
Crash, thud, crack.
"Guaaagh!"
Neighhhh—
The riders who had come in a scatter were run through on the spearpoints and fell screaming. While terrified horses shrieked, the black cavalry hurled aside broken spears or swung the shafts back over their shoulders, wheeled, and drove in again.
Thwip. Thunk.
"Gyaaaaaah!!!"
Arrows loosed from the string buried themselves in flanks, and whenever a blue-bright blade flashed, blood sprayed. Heavy horse a moment ago, the black riders had become light cavalry, and they butchered the men in filthy skins with brutal thoroughness. Not long after the fight began, most of the enemy were dead, and the rest fled as if their tails were on fire.
Ulgyan wiped the blood spatter from his face and cackled.
"Yes! This is it! This smell! This feel in the hands! You cowards! Don't run!!! Fight! Fight!!!!"
"G-Guchu Ulgyan! Stop—please, stop!"
"Huh?"
The niru ejen urgently set his horse across the path of Ulgyan, who was about to give chase that very instant.
"What if you just go? Those—those refugees have to be checked first! Aren't we out on patrol?"
"Ah, damn it..."
Ulgyan pouted and grumbled, then led the cavalry in to ring the men, women, old folk, and children who had been fleeing in a panic. Terrified, they had set knives and bows on the ground and knelt. They did not look whole, not at a glance—faces fouled with blood and dust, expressions full of exhaustion, unease, and fear.
"Hey. What are you lot? Do you even know where you've walked into?"
Ulgyan growled at them, blood still on his face. From among the crowd a white-haired old man stepped forward and bowed his head to the ground.
"W-we came from Ilan Hala. We were living under T-Tumen Zayakan...."
"Zayakan? I've heard that name somewhere."
When Ulgyan cocked his head, the niru ejen beside him whispered.
"Isn't that the tumen of the Gilyak and Udege myriarchy, the one the Mongol Great Khan appointed? The man said to hold the strongest, largest power in Ilan Hala..."
"Ah! Right! I remember! But why'd you come here? And who were the ones chasing you?"
At Ulgyan's question the old man answered in a rush.
"Tumen Zayakan's power is gone now. After he lost the fight to Yarha—to Yarha—he was taken prisoner, or scattered, like us."
"Huh? Then what about Ilan Hala?"
"Yes. By now Yarha will have taken Ilan Hala—no, the lands reaching the Sunggari Ula and the Sahaliyan Ula, and most of the Jushen who live there."
Ulgyan's eyes went wide at a story bigger than he had expected. He had no gift for matters of this sort, but even he could tell that something out of the ordinary had happened.
"Hey. I think we'd better go back. We need to tell the Amba Beile in a hurry, don't we?"
"That would be best."
"Good! Hey! You lot are coming with us! Don't even think of running—follow! Wherever you go, this is Bayan Gurun's land!"
The old man looked up at the bullying Ulgyan with uneasy eyes.
"A-are we to become slaves?"
"Huh? Slaves? No! Anyone who doesn't dare stand against the Khan, or commit a crime, doesn't become a slave! It's the law of Bayan Gurun, the law the Khan laid down. Never heard of it?"
At Ulgyan's boast, puffed up as if he were showing the thing off, the old man swallowed hard.
"If you mean the Khan of Bayan Gurun... do you mean Kundulen Khan, who wiped out the Ochigin clan?"
"Yes! That's right! And... I'm Guchu Ulgyan, the one Kundulen Khan treasures!"
"Ooooh...."
The old man knew it from rumor. To the south there was a rich and mighty lord, a country ruled by Kundulen Khan—Bayan Gurun, where no one went hungry. And guarding that country, baturs who offered their loyalty to Kundulen Khan: rumor of a black tiger and five fierce beasts. A tenacious badger, a clever fox and a savage wolf, a valiant wild boar and a loyal hound. The batur before his eyes was that valiant boar. Ulgyan...
"Kahaha! I'm that famous? More famous than Garshakan—more than Garshakan or Indahun, right?"
He did look a bit of a fool, though.
Clip-clop, clip-clop...
Cavalry on the move, and from one rider's saddle a rope ran back. A man bound at both wrists and the neck—a filthy mess of dust and blood, but his eyes still alive.
Once he had been a powerful beile, come to the very brink of unifying the chaos of Ilan Hala. Zayakan. He had negotiated with the Liaoyang Branch Secretariat, brought the rebellion to an end, and received the post of tumen over the Gilyak and the Udege who lived along the Sahaliyan Ula, the Black River. An ambitious man, he had meant to set the authority of the Mongol Great Khan at his back, take precious iron weapons, armor, and warhorses as his reward, arm the warriors under him, and pacify Ilan Hala.
Now he was nothing but a wretched loser, caught while fleeing with nothing but the body he stood in.
"T-Tumen Zayakan has been caught!"
A crude fortress, where Gilyak, Udege, and Jurchen warriors had gathered with men, women, and children. At the sight of Zayakan being dragged in through the gate, the people who had once followed him wore complicated faces and murmured among themselves.
"Haa... so the fighting is truly finished..."
"In the end... it comes to this."
Once they were inside, figures stood there who were a little less familiar. Warriors who had come down out of the deep forests of the north along the current of the Black River. The so-called forest people.
"Ugh..."
Zayakan staggered under a hard yank on the rope and went down in the filthy mud.
"Ptui. Ptuh..."
He spat the dirt from his mouth, and as he thrashed and tried to rise, two legs appeared before his eyes.
"Zayakan. It's been a while. You've ended up looking rather ridiculous, haven't you?"
He lifted his head, and a familiar face came into view. Forest people who did not cut their hair, but braided it—and among them a man who, like Zayakan, had shaved his head and worn a queue. A hideous scar, as if flesh had clotted over one eye.
"Do you remember this wound, Zayakan?"
"Of course I remember! How could I forget. Wasn't it I who carved it into that unlucky face of yours, Jarhun?"
Zayakan spat, then broke into a cackle.
"You think that's all I remember? I remember the soft skin of your wife, and of that girl of a daughter. Even the screams those bitches let out."
"Y-you bastard who deserves to die..."
Jarhun drove a kick straight into the chest of the cackling Zayakan.
"Kagh... keh-heh-heh, hahaha!!! I remember it—how the wife and daughter you abandoned, and your kin, cursed your name!!!"
Jarhun looked down at Zayakan rolling in the mud and bellowing, and ground his teeth.
Jarhun was of a storied noble house of Kurun Hara. When he had fled to Ilan Hala with only his clan and his own guchu, he had had a plan of sorts: somehow, in the turmoil of Ilan Hala, he would build a power, bring down Bayan Gurun, and take revenge on Esenbatur, who had stolen his land and his people. But Ilan Hala was too harsh a country for a man who had already lost his strength. After beating off several raids and wandering without a destination, he went at last to Tumen Zayakan, who at least had a large following, meaning to work his tongue and lure the man in.
Zayakan, though, was no mere ignorant savage. A beile every bit as political, seasoned, and sinister as Jarhun, and brave besides. He pretended to accept Jarhun's sweet talk, said he would think on it, and sent him away—and when Jarhun returned to his camp, cavalry that had followed him fell on it by surprise.
Jarhun's family, his clan, his loyal guchu. Most died wretchedly or were taken. His wife and daughter were dragged off and made into bedmats for Zayakan and his underlings. Reduced to a slave, Jarhun swore he would have his revenge, fled alone, and was caught again. Even now the pain was vivid—the moment Zayakan, declaring he would make an example, gouged out the eyeball himself with a dagger.
But Jarhun did not give up. Not even the threat that if he ran again they would kill his wife, his daughter, and his children besides could bend him.
"You brought this on yourself, Jarhun. If you hadn't played your petty tricks and had come in under me, you wouldn't have ended up like that."
"Yes. I know. I brought it on myself. But aren't you the same? Look at the state of you."
When Jarhun sneered, Zayakan cackled and nodded.
"Yes. True. You're not wrong. I underestimated Yarha, that one. And so did you...."
"You dare speak the Khan's name so freely. Do you want to die?"
Murder filled Jarhun's voice. Zayakan gave a thin laugh and looked up at him.
"Jarhun, you viper. Does Yarha know what you are? That viper's heart of yours?"
"......"
"How cowardly a traitor you are! A man who betrayed a guest he took into his house, and cast aside the lord he swore loyalty to!"
Two men with a likeness between them glared at each other.
"I questioned your clan and your guchu. I know as much as a man can know. How you look down on us because you come from a noble house—and the things you did in the south, too..."
"......."
"You raised Yarha up as Khan? Or are you only watching for the moment to stick a knife in the back of the illiterate savage who can't even read?"
"Are you trying to sow discord now? Hoping to settle a grudge before you die?"
"Why? Did that sting, Jarhun? Are you afraid? Afraid Yarha will throw you away now?"
At Zayakan's jeering voice, Jarhun crushed the hilt at his waist in his grip until it seemed it might break. Too many ears around them, and this bastard who deserved to die...
"Enough."
A voice sounded suddenly from behind—low, deep, and full of dignity.
"You talk too much, Zayakan. If you were an opponent who stood against me, then show me a man's bearing."
Zayakan clenched his teeth and looked at the man before him.
The forest people, famed for their ferocity and valor, attended him as guards: a man in his thirties. Between the rough hides of his clothing showed a body lean, but muscled with a strength you could feel. A wild man, his long hair braided in two queues, came to stand before Zayakan.
The great batur of the black forest. The man who had ended Ilan Hala's endless war. The lord raised as Khan of the Gilyak, the Udege, and all the Jurchens. The great enemy who had brought Zayakan himself to ruin. A man as quiet and cold as the leopard his name meant.
"So we meet again, Yarha. Or should I be calling you Genggiyen Khan?"
Zayakan looked up at him and smiled a bitter smile.