At the age of 9, my father Khabul decided to take me with him to witness the Kurultai, the meeting of elders at Karakorum. While the Kurultai was a meeting point for all the tribes, the city of Karakorum was a place where trade and tradition met. Karakorum was the heartland of the Plains and was often considered a sacred place. Races and competitions were conducted amongst the tribes for the sake of honor, winning was not as important as a good showing worthy of remembering. Archery, sheep herding, wrestling and racing were just some of the events. As a 9-year-old, I wasn’t required to participate in any of the events so all I did was roam around looking at some of the things people were trading. As I walked around the place I came across a stone building which I figured was the forge from the massive heatwave I could feel at the entrance. Every year at the Kurultai the tribes would resupply their bows and sabers, I was tempted to step inside to learn from the blacksmith but I figured I could do that later on.
I ended up going further down the road until I reached a ger filled with bows, both completed and yet to be assembled. There was a rather old centaur on the floor of the ger, with his legs tucked under him busy shaping the wood for a recurve bow. Recurve Bows, unlike straight bows, had greater power, speed, range and more importantly, could be used far more easily in rough terrain or on horseback. Since centaurs were technically always on horseback, recurve bows were extremely convenient for them. As I looked around I could see strings, wood, and sinew. The old centaur was rather happy for the company I think and glad when I showed interest in making bows, he helped me make a smaller bow without the sinews for the added tension. I ended up practicing with my bow for the rest of the day, the feeling of successfully hitting the target was addictive. It felt purifying as if with every arrow I was forcing out all that negativity and just listening to the twang of the bowstring. It was pretty dark by the time I realized I’d been out way longer than was safe. I trotted back to my father's ger as fast I could, took the obligatory shouting I deserved for being out that late and finished up the day with dinner. The next few days were centered around the competitions with the meeting itself being held on the first day. I saw firsthand the Khans of the other tribes on the last day of the Kurultai. The Olkhunut and Borjigin tribes were currently amidst a feud. The Olkhunut, the master archers of the plains believed in Jasmeen and believed her to be the sole true Goddess, while the Borjigin believed that Tomás was the creator and the followers of Jasmeen mere heretics. The conflict had only worsened when two Borjigin warriors were found dead, shot at by arrows belonging to the Olkhunut, branded with a crescent moon. It seemed like the conflicts were worsening. However, there was nothing I could do immediately and while Jasmeen and Tomás could have interfered I wanted the Centaurs to work through this by themselves, I didn’t want them relying on the Gods to tell them how to live.
As we reached home my mother Borte, immediately took to our ger and thoroughly inspected me to ensure I hadn’t been hurt in any way. While it was kind of annoying to be babied so, I felt warmth and love from Borte that I’d never gotten before and as much as I wanted to deny it, I’d come to accept her as my mother. For the rest of the spring, I practiced my archery and was slowly trained by the warriors on how to shoot while running. With the coming of winter, the tribes all began the migration south. It was at this time that news came from the Borjigin that would shake the tribes. Yesugai, Khan of The Borjigin was dead, ambushed by Olkhunut warriors, his sons, and his wife exiled to preserve the strength of the tribe. The Centaurs while a familial people had only ever respected the strong and three young foals and middle-aged female centaur were far from commanding any respect. The Borjigin had decided to migrate further South, committing to an exploration of new lands. Not since the founding of the Kurultai had any of the tribes chosen to migrate further away from the sacred land. For 7 years little to no news came from the Borjigin, their people long gone. The Olkhunut, however, had also lost the trust of the other tribes. Many of their people deserted the tribe until finally, only one great tribe remained amongst the plains of Karakorum. The Kerait were undisputed rulers of the plains, for years I trained with both bow and saber. I took part in the coming of age ceremony, a hunt in which I was given nothing but a bow and arrows along with my saber and made to survive for three days in the wilds. I lived off of the marmots and squirrels for the first day, having seen no sign of anything bigger. On the second and third days, I saw a wildcat, a wolf and lastly a wapiti. I failed to hunt the wildcat, its sharp hearing enabling it to escape from me before I could get close enough to shoot. The other two, however, were enough for me to make do for the rest of the hunt. My mother broke out into tears when I finally got back, while my father slapped me on the back. It was a wonderful feeling knowing I had a home to come back to and that I wasn’t alone. Having come of age I was assigned the task of helping my father at Karakorum for the coming Kurultai, and I eagerly went along with him planning on finally starting my plan of grooming a leader that could unite the tribes. As we, started along the route to Karakorum we bumped into the Naiman tribe's convoy and they had shocking news. “The Borjigin have returned, stronger than ever and with greater numbers than even you possess Khabul. I wouldn’t mind as much if this was still Yesugei’s tribe but Hotula is not half the man Yesugei was and he may very well choose to force the Council to bend to his will.” said the Naiman convoy leader. “I do not speak for the Kerait, Chanai but knowing Togrul he will not bow down to the will others. These last 7 years have changed him, he will not take such humiliation lying down.” My father replied. Togrul Khan, the khan of the Kerait was my uncle. He had seemed like a decent enough person when I was a kid, but over the last 7 years he had become the single most powerful person of the plains, and as a wise man once said: “Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.” And that was what Togrul had had for all these years, absolute power. With the return of the Borjigin, it seemed as if a violent conflict was inevitable.
Patreon
