2 comments/ 7066 views/ 9 favorites The Great Khan Ch. 01 By: BiscuitHammer Forward: This story was given to me as a challenge. Think of it as an alternate history to some degree. There are historical personages represented who interact with my invented characters. Feel free to ask which is which. There is plenty of graphic sex in this story, along with a lot of combat and violence. Just warning you now. Reviews and genuine critiques are welcome. Flames will be snickered at. Enjoy! *** Chapter 1- Bos, saaral chono, 'Grey Wolf Rising' Boldbator 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. "Come then, I would celebrate my return," he announced, taking both his wife and his sister around the waist and holding them close. "To my ger, I shall tell the people of Tengger about my battle come the morn." Kula and Turkina both nodded and returned to their ger. Boldbator, 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 Kalkha-Mongol language now, so he honoured her as his wife, always certain to make sure that Sarantuya understood that she still came first. "What will you drink tonight, husband?" Sarantuya asked. "Do you desire koumiss, airag or your süütei tea?" He smiled at her inference- she generally referred to sexual congress with his sister as koumiss, that being fermented mare's milk mixed with blood, herself as airag, the same milk without the barbarous notion of blood or to Galina as salted milk-tea, which was meant to disparage her delicacy. "I would have all three after tonight," he declared, grinning wolfishly. "And let not my drinks run dry!" The three women all bowed, even more excited than they were jealous of one another. They had achieved a sort of harmony between the three of them, even if they Sarantuya and Khorijin occasionally still came to blows when no one was looking. It suited them and a rough affection had developed over the course of time, one that Boldbator saw no reason to interfere with. They were all devoted to him and he would have it no other way. Besides, when his bloodlust was up upon returning from battle, it sometimes took all three of them to satiate his desires. The wise ones had not been in best when they predicted that the spirit of Daichin Tengri, the red god of war, resided within him. The three woman all disrobed one another, finally standing naked before the lord of the Tengerr tribe- Sarantuya was the tallest, coming from a family Arslan had allied with to secure his hold over their people. She was fairer-skinned than Khorijin, her build slender and somewhat girlish. Boldbator's younger sister was more ample, although far from being either fat or solidly built- Khorijin had always wanted to fight as a warrior alongside her brothers, until her star-vision declared that she would be his wife. She often acted as his bahatuur, his bodyguard, if only in an unofficial capacity. Her bust was large, her hips strong and her legs athletic. Her dark hair was offset by her unusually light brown eyes. Mai, or Galina, was the shortest and slightest of build, almost seeming to bend like a reed before the other two. But she was fair-skinned and her raven hair was sumptuous and beautiful, like midnight silk. Her breasts seemed large against her tiny frame and she took especial care of herself to remain Chinese-looking, at her husband's command. It intrigued him and made her stand out as a great prize. These three now stood before him, naked and waiting. Behind them, near the back of the ger, awaited the kang, the great wooden-framed bed, on which were piled endless furs and silk blankets. Every ger relied on this bed and entire families slept on it together to preserve their body heat against the merciless winters. Below the elevated frame of the kang was a yak-chip fire smouldering and helping to keep everyone warm. Kula's bed was easily big enough for the four of them. And it had the battle scars to show it. The women approached and began to undress him, removing his undergarments until he too was naked- Galina shivered at the sight of his powerful body. Most of these northern nomads, these Yěmán rén as her people called them, were squat, brutish and ugly, but Boldbator was somehow different. In all his barbaric splendour, he seemed somehow like a dignified warlord rather than a mere uncultured chieftain. She had taught him letters and how to read, something none of his peers could do. He had been smart enough to keep this a secret, however, lest the advantage be lost. His body was strong, clean-limbed, with muscles and sinews like ship's cables. Unlike most of the Tengger men, he was not bow-legged from spending so much time in the saddle and was swift as a deer when he ran. His hair was thick and black as the night, as were his eyes, which glinted like stars in his bronze face. Scars stood out on his skin, like symbols of his valour and fearlessness in the face of death. To have so many scars at so young an age... Then she remembered he had been riding and fighting since before he was fifteen. He was little more than sixteen when the Tengger had come across the Wall and destroyed her town, taking her prisoner. She had been with him for three years now and in spite of how much she hated the Tengger, she had come to appreciate Boldbator and perhaps felt genuine affection for him. She maybe even looked forward to bearing his child one day. They surrounded his body with theirs, pressing against him sensuously. Sarantuya kissed her way along his jaw and nibbled at his ear while Khorijin caressed his chest and abdomen, tracing her fingers between his rippling muscles. Galina knelt humbly in front of him, kissing his waist and strong hips before pressing her lips to his manhood and slowly taking it inside her mouth. She felt him swell as she slid her tongue around his length and he grew hard, clearly full of ardour. Her dainty hand wrapped around the thickening shaft as her lips formed a seal. She bobbed back and forth slowly, humming gently and feeling him tremble at her touch. She alone of the three women had recieved any training during their youth at being a competent lover and it showed. For all their eagerness, Khorijin and Sarantuya could not match her bedding skills. Khorijin now nudged Galina aside, taking over sucking on her brother's cock while the Chinese girl snaked herself around behind and kissed and nibbled her way up his back. Boldbator had pulled Sarantuya close, kissing her deeply. She moaned as their tongues explored one another's mouths and she shuddered as he put a strong hand on her breast and squeezed. His sheer power sometimes cowed her but more often than not enthralled her, she reveled in it. Sarantuya stepped over Khorijin's kneeling form, planting her legs on either side of her rival-lover. This nestled her already moist womanhood against her husband's throbbing shaft as his sister sucked ardently on it. She shuddered and moaned as Khorijin's tongue snaked against her slippery lips and was thankful that Galina had taught them both how to trim or even shave their thick bushes, making the experience more pleasurable for all of them. Galina was the only one who went completely hairless, as this was apparently an affectation amongst the noble class of her people. The two Tengerr women simply kept their thatches neatly trimmed and managable, which Boldbator liked. Galina bit at his trapezius while reaching around and raking her nails across his chest. One of his arms reached behind and squeezed her cheek while the other hand gripped Sarantuya's breast, causing her to moan into his mouth in pain and delight. "You are very strong tonight, ezen," Sarantuya murmured through the kiss. "Great must your victory have been if your need is so powerful." By way of response, Boldbator pulled back from the kiss and tossed her to the bed with an almost casual brutality. She tumbled into the piles of furs and sheets where she waited, spreading herself wantonly and pleading to be joined. He next took Galina by the hair and directed her toward the kang, where she crawled between Sarantuya's legs and began kissing and lapping at her pussy hungrily. Boldbator was the only man she'd ever known but she was no stranger to the love of women. Spending her time in the stately Song court, ruled over stale Confucian values, she was to remain sacred to one man, but there were no morals about sexuality and love between women. She and her sisters and other courtiers had idled away countless hours in one another's embraces before the storm from the north had destroyed their entire world. Boldbator took hold of his sister's thick black hair and pumped his hips back and forth eagerly, sliding his throbbing cock in and out of her mouth. She had clasped onto his buttocks to steady herself and she fought him for control of the pleasuring. She slid her tongue around his shaft and hummed, sending tingles through him while she fondled his sac. When he could take no more, he pulled her to her feet and put her on the bed with her sister-wives. He made her clamber over Sarantuya's body and she laid down on top of her, kissing the taller girl fiercely. Galina now licked and nibbled at both their slits as they ground their bodies together in deep need. Boldbator kept the Chinese girl pinned down while he lay over her and spread her legs wide. She moaned loudly as he pressed his cock to her dripping entrance and pushed deep inside. Her fingers gripped Khorijin's thighs as he stretched her mercilessly. Without waiting, he began pumping back and forth inside her, her tight tunnel squeezing him. She squirmed back and up against him, shuddering deliciously at his raw power. Sarantuya and Khorijin were still kissing greedily, groping one another's breasts and grinding their wet pussies together as Galina licked at them. She tongued Khorijin's clit, causing the woman to groan. She slid a finger inside Satantuya, her slippery slit gripping tight. The woman's salty tang thrilled her, bringing back heady memories of her life in the enclosed compounds of her father. Then Boldbator pulled out of her and pushed her forward roughly. With practiced skill, Galina squirmed over Sarantuya while Khorijin moved aside. The Chinese girl turned around and sat lightly on Sarantuya's face. The tall woman wrapped her hands around Galina's thighs and snaked her tongue deep inside the proferred slit. Galina cried out lustily while Khorijin straddled Sarantuya's hips and then leaned forward. She kissed Galina hungrily, their tongues plunging as she ground her hips down into Sarantuya's, their pussylips mingling wetly. She mauled the prostrate girl's breasts as she felt Boldbator part her legs and slide his cock inside her. He thumped his hips against his sister's ass while he fucked her hard, just how she liked it. She may have been a submissive wife in most respects, but she was sexually competitive, even with him. She squeezed her muscles around him, flexing and contracting in a wicked rhythm. If she could, she would make him cum inside her, leaving none for Sarantuya, a small triumph over first wife. Sarantuya pushed up with her hips, mushing her pussy into her rival's, eager to feel her husband's cock. The shaft slid along her lips as it moved in and out of Khorijin, sending shivers of pleasure through her, desperate for more. She gasped and shook as he finally pushed deep inside her, pressing down on his sister's body. Khorijin's back arched as she sucked wilfully on Galina's breasts. The Chinese girl whimpered and cradled her sister-wife's head, loving the feel of Khorijin's teeth biting on her nipple while Sarantuya lashed her pussy. Boldbator gripped his sister's hips, thrusting as he felt her clench him. She fought him for control but he knew that she was distracted by Sarantuya's ministrations beneath her. His sister was the strongest of the three women, though not the most skilled at lovemaking. Of the three, she had been his lover the longest, almost since he'd learned to ride a horse and fight. But Khorijin would not match him if she relied on strength. She was proving resistant to Galina's advice on sexual matters, moreso than Sarantuya was, always eager to keep her rank as first and preminent wife of the Tengger orkhan. But the long road and the savagery of the battle he'd fought meant his ardour was high and he was not terribly interested in prolonging his climax. He could feel his stomach stiffening and the tensing of his thighs. The bubbling buildup in his loins was beginning and he knew it would not be long. He began a series of concerted thrusts, gripping her hips hard. Khorijin gasped and then moaned, knowing that he was about to cum, desperate to feel his essence inside her. She bit down on Galina's nipple, causing the Chinese girl to keen in shameless delight. She squirmed down hard on Sarantuya's face, shuddering as she got wetter, feeling her pussy beginning to contract... Boldbator growled as he slammed his hips forward and held them, pumping his seed deep inside his sister. Khorijin sighed almost in relief as she came, pressing her sticky pussy down onto Sarantuya's, but then whined in protest as he pulled out of her and slid into his first wife, releasing his cum into her as well. Sarantuya pressed back against him desperately while Galina smothered her face with her womanly essence. Galina screamed into Khorijin's mouth as she came, shaking as the orgasm gripped her. Saruntuya collapsed back into the bed, shaking like a leaf on the wind or ripples on the waters of Baigali nuur. She felt Khorijin stretch out beside her while Galina clambered forward, sucking hungrily on Boldbator's cock, draining the last of his offering. She hummed contentedly as she pumped her tiny hand along his length, twisting gently, a technique some of the most refined courtesans in the Song had taught her. Finally, Boldbator laid down, between Sarantuya and Khorijin while Galina stretched out on top of him. The three women caressed him gently, expressing a dutiful gratitude. He was the orkhan of the proud Tengger people, conquerors of the Adalji clan, scourge of Xinhetou and horse-lords of the Namdan Plains. The Great Khan Ch. 01 The howl of the wolven winds from the north did not reach them inside the ger. *** "And with the coming of dawn, we shall see the Tengeriin dor dain, the War beneath Heaven." Boldbator stood atop the stout outcropping of rock, a singular anomaly in these wide, flat lands, looking eastward. The winds of the previous night had retreated before the goddess Sun, her warming light kissing the endless plains. Her wan rays were only just beginning to warm the steppe but he was wearing only a light del, enjoying the crisp morning air. This outcropping had traditionally delineated the easternmost boundaries of the Tengger tribe's territory, though Arslan had expressed a desire to expand their control over lands belonging to weaker tribes. The orkhan had taken swathes of land to the north from the Kichar people, leading a determined press through the heart of the enemy holds. Boldbtor had fought by his father's side, slaughtering any who resisted. In spite of his youth, he had proven an exceptional and deadly warrior, even taking command of a whole zuun of warriors when their commander had been killed. Arslan had ambitions, intent on becoming the ilKhan of the region, creating a strong protectorate or confederacy of the tribes, strong enough to defend themselves from the Kirghiz or Uhlans, even against any Chinese armies that engaged in occasional punitive raids across the Great Wall. But Arslan was gone, murdered by the treachery of a rival tribe. And now that Boldbator, his eldest son had avenged him, he would serve as an honoured member of the bahatur, the sworn bodyguards of the red god of war. The onus of leading the Tengger people now fell to him. Supported by his brash, aggressive younger brother and a network of alliances, the kurultai confirmed his ascension to the position of orkhan. But new dangers would now assail him and his valiant people- he was young for a tribal khan, and others would certainly see this as a libility and seek to wrest control of these lands from him, by force if necessary. Some might not even attempt negotiation and simply come to destroy the Tengger clan. Arslan's death would be known from one corner of the steppe to the other before long, and his lands in the central plains would be a tempting prize for many a warlord. That would be their downfall, because Boldbator was not only fierce in battle but a subtle tactician and very well-educated for a steppe nomad. Even his father had been impressed with his grasp of battlefield strategy and how to destroy an enemy with minimal risk. Perhaps unusually, he knew he needn't worry about venal treachery on the part of his younger brother, for although Kula was a ferocious warrior, he was not overly intelligent and he knew this about himself. He was content to make sure that his brother carried out the family's destiny, awaiting whatever instructions were given to him, as long as they involved killing. The only other person Kula respected and perhaps even feared was their mother, Turkina. Now there was a dangerous woman. Related to the distant Kereyit tribe, she was solemn and wise, as well as exceptionally beautiful. Boldbator had known her embrace and very much enjoyed coupling with her, although she seemed reticent about such unions. Maybe she would change her mind now that he was the khan. "What do you look for, akh düü?" Kula asked as he squatted nearby, carving out abstract patterns in the tough soil nearby. "You have hardly said a thing since dragging me out here, when by all rights you should be back in your ger, fucking your wives." "Some things are more important than fucking, brother-mine," Boldbator said coolly. To be honest, he'd been so intent on his observations that he had almost forgotten Kula was there. "Only fighting is more important, than fucking, Boldbator, and if you brought me with you, that means you are thinking about battle. You believe that the Sukh tribe will attempt to avenge themselves soon?" "I would," replied the older brother simply. "But they will not come without help, because they know the Sukh tribe alone will be no match for us. They will gather allies, promising them a part of the plunder once we are utterly annihilated." Kula grunted. "Who would ally with those snakes?" "Maybe the Changara, possibly the Sangyr-Bulak... there are many conniving and greedy tribes who would jump at a chance to plunder our riches from the Song empire and control our lands." "The Sangyr-Bulak are a large tribe, they could have as many as a thousand warriors to ride against us," Kula mused. "We might have that many if all the families support us. And if we include the Sukh and Changara, there might be as many as three thousands. Do you have a plan, then?" Boldbator nodded, his eyes harder than flint. "Aye, a daring one. A plan that will not only defeat our foes but cause fear in any who seek to do us harm. Galina gave me the idea when she showed me old scrolls she had brought with her. They spoke of a distant empire she called Daqin and how one of their greatest armies had been destroyed by a shrewd enemy general with a deadly feint." He sighed and folded his arms over his chest. "Play now, Kula, while I call to the spirits of our ancestors." Kula nodded and retrieved a wrapped object from his mount. Within the stout covering was a morin khour, a long-necked, two stringed instrument with a carved horse's head on top of the wooden neck. Kula settled himself on the side of the outcropping and drew his horsehair bow across the strings, tuning the instrument. The thin, wailing notes carried on the light, morning breeze. Whatever his impediments might have been considering his intellect, Kula was superlative on the morin khour, a trait Boldbator had always found very useful. Facing the sun as it climbed into the sky, the older brother growled in his throat and started to sing in the sacred khoomei, the ancestral oral traditions of the steppe tribes. "Dakhin neg udaa tulaan duu duulsan baina. Tsag khugatsaa ir khurtsalj bolon sum ni Ösgiitei jingenesen tengeriig shok . Khürd ayanga delkhiig gazar khödlölt Döl ni manai gazar nutag shataj baikhad , ta nar muu temtsekh khangalttai zorigtoi baina Ter ch baitugai olon myangan morin mökhöj baina, bidnii duu nd khiine Döl ni manai gazar nutgiig doosh tülegdsen üyed tenger üürd alga baina Gekhdee bodoj , esvel ergelzekh chadakhgüi baina Als khol ekhlen tulaan duu mönkhöd bidniig khürgedeg!" It was a supplication of war. *** "You are the orkhan now, son," Turkina said quietly as she sat next to the hearth with her eldest son. "You have brought glory with your victory, but also set in motion a series of events that may doom the Tengger people." He looked into the fire, his eyes studying the seemingly random, crackling flames that sprung up. He wondered if they were as random as they appeared, or if every single, stabbing tongue was part of a larger whole, a great karmic wheel he could not fathom or ever hope to understand. They only certainty about them was that they consumed everything they touched, be it the dead and useless wood, the yak chips they threw on or even the very air that they breathed. Fire was the Great Consumer and cleanser. "Do you think this is my fault, mother?" he asked, curious rather than defensive. He knew her to be wise and he always valued her council. "Not for acting, no," she replied. "Your father's murder required vengeance since there was now a reckoning between our clans. But it was your audacity, Boldbator, the unmitigated audacity you showed by attacking the Sukh and defeating them single-handed that is the source of my concern. Your actions will be answered with all the force they can muster, honour demands it. The Sukh and all their allies will come against us, not merely to defeat the Tengger but to destroy us utterly, to erase all trace and memory of us, such is the stain you left upon their integrity." "I see what you mean," he admitted, nodding his head, yet not ready to concede the problem. "But to my mind, this is the opportunity we need, mother, to be rid of these venal foes once and for all. I will admit to you now, my audacity does not end with avenging my father's death." Turkina looked up into the dancing shadows on the ceiling of her opulent ger, lost in thought. "So it had always been your intent to force a pitched battle with them, yes? With the demise of the Sukh, you can force a peace with the other central tribes, perhaps even compel them to swear fealty to you, which your father had always aspired to." He nodded his affirmation. "As you say. I do not mean to live with this uncertainty. Mother, great treasures lie within our reach south of the Wall, but we cannot risk our strength in such endeavours if we are always watching our backs. If I must beat them down, if I must grind the other steppe peoples into the dust, so be it. But then I will lift them up and point the way to the future of the Mongol people." She still looked into the darkness, preferring it to the steely gaze of her son. "You would unite the tribes? There is indeed a touch of the divine in the way you speak and see things, then. You would be the ilKhan of the central plains, Boldbator?" He nodded. Turkina said nothing. "And now I am orkhan of our people, mother," he said quietly. "What does this mean for us? For you and I?" She closed her eyes. "I obey the khan, as do all people blessed to be Tengger. You need but say your decree, my son and lord, and it shall be done." He felt a tinge of frustration because she did not say that she would willingly give herself to him, but by saying she would obey any wish he made, Turkina now told him that she would not resist if he pillowed with her. It was not as if they had never done this before, she was indeed the one who had taught him how to make love and pleasure a woman. He stood and looked down at her. "Then I would have you tonight, for tomorrow I ride forth, perhaps to my doom." Turkina stood and looked deep into her son's eyes. "I will make love with you, lord of the Tengger." She took his hand and led him to the kang, which was covered in blue and yellow silks. There, she turned to him and waited expectantly. Boldbator slowly undid his mother's robes and let them fall to the floor. Shadows from the firelight danced over her naked skin. She was fairer in colour than her children, having been Behichi, the daughter of a noble family and never having had to attend to strenuous labour. Turkina was indeed considered one of the fairest women living, comparable to the great beauties of China. Boldbator placed his hand on her breast and she trembled, sighing at his touch. Though she could not bring herself to tell him, she had missed her eldest son's caress. Boldbator was a skilled lover, she had seen to it. Slowly, almost reverently, she undressed him until he stood as naked as she was. She gazed at his strong body, noting the magnificent scars that crossed his chest and powerful shoulders. "I serve only you, my lord." Turkina murmured as she knelt slowly before him. She kissed his taut skin on the way down, pressing her lips lightly against him. Her fingernails grazed lightly over his skin and Boldbator shuddered at her loving touch, caressing her face with his hands. She nipped at his stomach, pinching the skin gently between her teeth. One hand gently came to rest on his already-hardening cock. She caressed it slowly, marveling at the length as it stood in front of him, twitching with desire. Without another word, she kissed the throbbing head and pressed on it with her tongue. Slowly swirling it around the head, she teased him, eager to feel like she had some tiny measure of control over this powerful, extraordinarily dangerous man. He groaned as she took his cock head into her mouth and then slowly slid down the shaft. She shuddered in quiet thrill as his hands flexed in her hair. She started to slowly bob back and forth, keeping him measured and rapt. If she was going to make love to her son, she did not want it to be over quickly. She felt like a willing captive, both unable and unwilling to escape her imprisonment. Her hands came to rest on his muscular buttocks, bracing him against her. His mannish, almost brutal scent permeated the air around her. She could feel herself growing wetter as she dared imagine what he would feel like inside her once again. It had been so long, it seemed. The warmth of the ger now showed on their skin, a glistening sheen of sweat that also spoke of mutual desire. When he felt that he might peak, Boldbator lifted his mother and laid her back on the bed. He gazed on her porcelain skin, shining in the dim, flickering lights of the hearth and braziers. Slowly, with all the control he could muster, he took her ankles and spread her legs. Turkina had, seemingly, taken after the fashion of his Song concubine and shaved her womanhood completely. He felt maybe a twinge of irritation of Galina's influence over his mother but could not stop looking at her in fascination. He laid between her legs and began kissing her pussy, He felt her shudder at the touch of his mouth. He pushed her thick outer lips apart gently, exposing a delicate, almost unreal shade of pink within, a colour unlike any he had seen elsewhere in the wide lands around with any woman. Not even his Chinese bride could claim this. His tongue snaked deep inside her and Turkina moaned loudly. He shivered as he tasted her, a treat he had so long missed. Massaging her pussy while squeezing her inner thighs, her felt her squirm and twist, gripping the sheets in her fists. "Yes, my love..." she breathed, her limbs tingling with pleasure. "Boldbator, I have missed your tongue..." He pushed deeper inside her, thrilling to how he made her feel. He had hoped his mother had missed their congress, barely dared to dream of it. She grew wetter around his willing tongue, her body almost fluttering beneath his ardent touch. Her legs hooked behind his back, helping to pulling him deeper into her. Turkina could take no more and pulled her son up to her, kissing him greedily as he laid atop his mother. She kept her legs spread wide for him, yearning for him to enter her. Their tongues snaked and tangled lustily as she writhed beneath him. His cock pressed to her entrance and without another word, slid inside. His mother groaned loudly, pushing her hips up against Boldbator with a dreadful eagerness. Turkina panted shamelessly, lost to the forbidden pleasure of lovemaking with her son. The casual power of his body drove her to exquisite heights. His cock lanced in and out of her, feeling like he was about to tear her apart from within before leaving a deep, aching emptiness. She needed more. She wrapped her arms around his back as her rocked against her, his cock finding her deepest reaches. Shr squeezed around him, caressing his cock with her inner walls, practiced and perfect in her motions. Boldbator, for his part, thrust in and out of her with a relentless strength that she loved and needed, even if she could not admit it to anyone. Though people knew it was she who had taught the young orkhan how to couple, she did not think anyone outside their immediate family knew of this current congress. She kissed him greedily again and looked deep into his eyes, her own flashing. "If you would truly possess me, lord," she hissed, her fingernails in his back. "Then you must truly take me in all ways..." Boldbator understood and nodded, taking his mother by the back of the neck and turned her over, moving Turkina to her hands and knees. He reached over her body and pushed her face down into the silken sheets while her ass stayed poised in the air. She moaned wantonly as she felt him pull her ass cheeks apart and pressed his cock head against her puckered knot. Turkina groaned guttaraly as she felt him push inside. She shuddered and went rigid as he slid his whole length deep inside her ass. Knowing that Turkina wanted to feel his authority if he was to be lord of their people, Boldbator did not spare her strength in fucking her now. As refined and dainty as she might have acted, he knew his mother to be a woman of great endurance and formidable in her own right. He gripped her hips tightly and thrust with vigour, determined to compel his mother to admit that he alone was worthy of the title of orkhan amongst the Tengger. Turkina panted and ground back against her son, matching his thrusts with her own wanton grinding motion. He felt so good inside her secret passage, a matchless and taboo pleasure she feared might get her struck down if the gods saw her enjoying it too much. She bit and tore at the sheets with her teeth, willing herself not to scream. Her hands clenched the silken fabric, shaking with the effort of fucking her son. His cock felt like it was getting bigger and harder inside her ass, a stretch that caused her to almost faint. His hips slapping against her cheeks and the back of her thighs carried a rhythm she tried to match and ride out with her contractions, squeezing him tightly. Boldbator's body was slick with sweat and felt like it was somehow on fire. His breath was heavy now, his muscles trembling as his core tensed up, the tingling spreading through him. With a snarl he grabbed his mother under her arms and pulled her upright onto her knees, pinning her back against him. He thrust with demonaic strength up inside her and she jammed her lips against his, kissing her son to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs as he came inside her. Their bodies heaved and ground in sensuous unison while they climaxed. He shot ropes of thick cum deep into her while she squeezed and clamped around him. "Thank the gods," Turkina thought. "I shall not bear him a son, whatever my desires might be. We are safe from that peril." Boldbator held her pinned against him, still squirming together as her tight ass milked the last of his essence from his cock. His hands groped her breasts roughly and her arms flopped to her sides. She was like a rag doll in his arms, her eyes shut as he held her upright by his own strength. Slick bodies pressed and undulated, luxuriating in the afterglow of their lovemaking, their frenzied fucking. Boldbator finally released his mother and she sighed languidly as she laid down on her back, caressing her body while she looked up at him, her eyes shining with a seductive pleasure. She felt deliciously and dangerously fulfilled, like a dangerous game was being played, one she had no intention of stopping or losing. "Yes, my lord," she purred, reaching up and using her feet to caress his still-hard cock as it twitched and oozed over her molten pussy. "You are indeed the one and only orkhan of our great people..." *** Aimshigt ayanga! Shuurga khödölj! Mön shüültiin ödör duudaj baina Setgel mini gan khücheer edgersen baina, Aldar duudlaga Bi gazar uruu bi olson bükh ilgeekh bolno Alkh duu unaj Tiim muu khümüüs ni Bi tedniig bügdiig doosh ni tsokhij bolno, Unakh bolno Mön ta nar minii duudlagyg medekh bolno Er zorig minii neriig duuddag Shönö salkhiny chimee ni Tsus uukh bolno Minii ild Mön bi temtsekh , tiim bi temtsekh bolno bolno Tulaldaany üür ni! "And I will fight in the dawn of battle." Boldbator mused to himself as he looked over the endless, flat steppes, his keen gaze pointed east. Distantly, great clouds of dust were to be seen, indicative of movement. The Great Khan Ch. 01 "That's a lot of horses," Kula rumbled, scowling as he watched the cloud. "Must be thousands of them." "It's a ruse, my brother," said the older sibling simply. "Their ponies are fixed with rakes behind them, meant to kick up excessive amounts of dust and trick us into thinking that their numbers are greater than they are. It's an old trick, but not without its merits to the unintiated foe." "So what do you believe they number, then?" asked the younger son, fidgeting with the yak-horn and wood grip of his yataghan. Boldbator closed his eyes, thinking of the damnable mathematics Galina had taught him, at his request. While perhaps unbecoming a traditional warlord of the steppes, he needed every advantage her could get, including literacy and numbers. "They look like twelve thousands," he said quietly, finally opening his eyes. "So they number no more than three." "That's still... three to one..." Kula muttered, his expression darkening at the supposedly good news. "You're sure we are ready, brother?" Boldbator nodded. "We're as ready as we can be. They attempt to decieve us, but we have seen through their lies. They will now encounter our subterfuge, but the difference is that ours will work. Go now, take our two heaviest zuuns and make your way around the far left flank at speed. They won't expect this, since they know we are outnumbered. Daichin and Pierroun watch over you, brother." Kula grinned wolfishly and nodded, turning his horse about and galloping away. Boldbator had put his brother in charge of their two heaviest cavalry units, men wearing heavy armour and carrying sturdy lances, along with the wicked axes and curved swords that steppes warriors used. That left Boldbator with just over a thousand warriors to recieve the enemy charge, when it came. He did not expect much tactical trickery from his enemy in this battle, since the Sukh would assume he could not be dislodged from his position and this was a war of vengeance. They would come at him, hard, with everything they had. And he would meet them with a deadly, cold ferocity that the Tengger people were renowned for. Now that he had been officially recognized as orkhan of the tribe, none of the families that made up the Tengger clan refused his summons to battle. All the families that made up this complex social unit came- the Daidukul and Chuluun familes were the first to rally, followed by the hardy Bodonchar people who lived along the western banks of the Orhon Gol, and the swift, merciless Erdeni clan, warriors renowned for their bloodlust on the hunt. Other minor families sent all the warriors they could and they'd gathered here, at his command, to end the Sukh threat once and for all. He'd had little choice in terms of prosecuting the battle, though he was determined to not let it happen as the enemy desired. Great had been the protests of several families and their tachii, their ruling figures, but they eventually relented before his determined logic on the issue. Of the thousand men he had to fight with, a full five hundred would fight unmounted. Mounted behind him were twenty men, acting as his personal guard. They were young and fierce in battle, not always the most skilled warriors yet, but they were loyal even unto death. They were his keshig. He knew he could rely on them at all costs once the fighting had begun. It was no small thing to declare that you had a keshig- it meant you considered yourself a lord of importance, a warrior of magnitude and that such suicidal loyalty was essential to the well-being of your people. The Tengger people were a comparatively small tribe, perhaps well-known for their skill in battle, but for Boldbator to form a keshig, many would take exception to his claim. Many more still would be watching. And that's what he wanted. Before long, the tanguul, his scouts and outriders, had returned bringing news of the enemy's movements. The lead man nodded hastily as he reported. "Urjliiin, the Sukh and their allies are not far off," he said, still breathing heavily. "We encountered many scouting parties and managed to destroy them, but I lost three men in the process. They'll have little or no advance warning of our dispositions." "Well done, Aldan," Boldbator said, nodding. "What of their numbers and their approach?" The scout smirked. "Some three thousands. As you predicted, sire, there is no true thought or art in their approach or tactics. They intend to run roughshod over you, destroying everything in their path utterly as quickly as possible. They know their numbers are superior to yours and seem content to let brute force do the work for them." "That will prove their undoing." Bolbator said, his mood darkening. "Send the word across the lines to prepare the positions and keep alert. No pity. I will kill any man I see with pity in him." There was nothing to do now but wait. To occupy himself, he checked his armour and weapons one more time. His lamellar armour was bright and well-fitted, the metal scales carrying the slightest sheen of a coat of protective oil made from yak fat. His keen yataghan, the curved sword he fought with, glinted in the wan sun. He had sharpened the blade after his raid into the Sukh lands, concerned that maybe it had been dulled in the savage battle. He had cleaved much bone and soft flesh in his fight to escape, even once getting the sword caught in a thick wooden pillar when a foe ducked a surely fatal swipe of the weapon. But the edge was keen again, waiting to let blood flow. He opened a boiled leather pouch and examined his bow, checking the tensile strength of the horsehair and sheepgut string and then examining the body of the weapon for warping or cracks in the sinew and glue. He had always treated this weapon reverently, as it was crafted for him when he was just old and strong enough to draw a bow. It had served him well and would honour him today, taking the lives of many foes. A signal arrow shrieked overhead. He gazed out toward the approaching enemy, noting that they approached rapidly, in disorder. He had chosen this position carefully, because he knew the foe would see the flat ground as ideal terrain for their cavalry-heavy forces. But what they failed to note, in their fury, was that the brittle, crackling salt flats they were charging across were narrowing subtly, herding them into almost a corridor that helped to reduce the danger of their numbers. Boldbator had also set up sutble markers on the wide flats, allowing him to guage the position and distance of the enemy. He needed to be alert, though, if he wanted the to be effective, because the dust raised by the foe's headlong charge obscured the sight of the markers. "Five hundred ald..." "At three hundred ald, begin a sustained fire!" he called loudly to his infantry. These men were accomplished archers, but he had also selected them for their prowess with the lance and steady nerves, since they might have to receive a cavalry charge. The men readied their composite bows. He was thinking they might get five solid volleys in before needing to take up their lances to defend themselves. There were five groups of one hundred men, spaced twenty ald apart. Behind the infantry were warriors on horseback, waiting to counter-attack wherever they were needed. "Gerel, prepare the fire." Boldbator grunted to the men who commanded his keshig. The fierce-looking warrior nodded and barked out his lord's order. Boldbator intended to do everything possible to whittle down the enemy's numbers before battle was joined. Even if he was successful, every man he'd brought with him would have his share of blood and battle. "Brother!" Khorijin called out, approaching while sitting atop her stout pony, her bow in hand and a blade on her hip. Her eyes flashed defiantly. "You will not let me ride with your keshig, yet you dishonour me by giving me no position at all! I have come to fight, I will not be sent back home!" Boldbator sighed. He didn't have the time to argue with his sister. "Stand with me, then," he replied, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "When I fight, so will you." She nodded brusquely and rode up beside him, gazing out toward the approaching enemy. Boldbator watched silently until the Sukh cavalry finally reached the red ald. He raised his hand. Gerel shouted and hundreds of broad-headed arrows shrieked into the sky, arcing toward the blue vault before lancing down into the masses of teeming cavalry that now thundered towards them. Dozens of men and horses tumbled and crashed to the ground, disrupting the already tight formations. Another volley of arrows landed in their midst and the leader called for an all-out charge, desperate to close the distance. Hundreds of Sukh warriors began firing their composite bows ahead, hoping to whittle down the defenders' numbers before contact was made. Another loud call across the Tengger line and now hidden rows of stakes were pulled up from the ground at a menacing angle to greet the attackers. Dozens died as they impaled themselves on the stakes while those behind them struggled frantically to get by. Herded into themselves, they pressed on desperately. The ground gave way before them now, a series of trenches covered in dun hemp sheets having concealed the traps until it was too late. Horses collapsed and men were thrown, limbs, necks and backs broken as they crumpled to the hard earth. Arrows continued to land amongst them mercilessly, creating a sense of entrapment and panic. The Sukh were less than one handred ald away when Boldbator sprang his final surprise. Naptha bombs were tossed into the enemy, who cried out in fear and agony as the liquid fire exploded in their midst. What remained of their relentless charge now made contact with the infantry, who stood their ground, long lances braced to receive the assault. And all hell broke loose. *** Boldbator blocked the strike with his round shield and then slashed with his yataghan, the blade biting deep into the man's neck and sending him spinning to the ground in a spray of blood. His lancers had held their line, with the enemy cavalry pouring between the gaps between their formations and into the waiting reserve units. A relentless hail of arrows greeted the Sukh warriors not entangled with the lancers as the Tengger cavalry archers backed away steadily, firing into the wad of men with deadly accuracy. Sensing that the enemy leader had called for a retreat in the face of speed and determination, the Sukh continued to charge, their formations becoming long, almost thin streams or columns of cavalrymen who now could not support one another and had an enemy in their rear. The attack had foundered and a confused brawl broke out, rather atypical of the fleet and mobile style of warfare preferred by the warriors of the steppes. Boldbator knew he could not win in a traditional manner, that a different method would be required to overcome these odds. Once the enemy cavalry had supposedly broken through, he allowed them to charge into the shallow depression he had been defending while his own horse archers fanned out in a wide arc, forming a semi-circle around the enemy. He then had drawn his sword and led his keshig and other warriors in a savage charge. Though the Sukh and their allies had numbers, this superiority was of little use when they were bunched together in the depression and the enemy had them hemmed in. Horns now blared in the east, signalling the arrival of Kula and his heavy cavalry, who thundered into the foe's rear, sweeping all before them, though they numbered only two hundred. Boldbator's careful planning and iron nerves made sure that the Sukh numbers counted for as little as possible. A pushing match developed, men on horseback crowded into maddeningly small areas wrestling with one another. Horses whinnied and screamed in panic, barely able to move and never knowing who or what they were pressed up against. Hundreds of men died in the frenzy, lances and swords flailing about, trying to find a target. Then Boldbator was through. His keshig burst the enemy cluster wide open and he thundered in, heading straight for the Sukh commander. Boldbator grabbed the lance from a Sukh man as he rode by and threw it, burying the tip in a bahatur's skull and knocking him back off his mount. Moments later, he felt his horse judder and then squeal as a lance pierced its flank. He leaped aside quickly as the beast pitched over, thrashing. He would mourn its passing once the battle was over. His steely gaze passed over the wild melee and he saw now the pole and horsetail banner of the Sukh commander. He tromped forward, his eyes never leaving his prey. He ducked a desperate thrust from one warrior and bashed his shield into the man's face, sending him tumbling, his nose shattered. Another Sukh warrior confronted him and he batted the man's shield off to the side and kicked him in the midriff. As the man doubled over, he plunged his yataghan down through the warrior's shoulder and neck, skewering him. He whirled about as he pulled the blade free, slashing another foe across his lamellar armour, creating a wide rent, a ribbon of scarlet vitae following the sword. Beside him, Khorijin fought fiercely, proving herself the equal of any man. Though slight of build compared to most of her foes, she was lithe and swift, able to dodge many blows and she was deadly in her accuracy, finding weak points in armour and exploiting them. She reminded Boldbator of a viper, precise, flowing and measured in her strikes. Most people compared him to a great tiger or savage wolf in battle, and Kula to a bear. The three of them as a unit were lethal. He heard his brother now, laughing loudly as he rode in, having routed and slaughtered the Sukh cavalry facing the infantry. His heavy horsemen rode up now, trampling anyone unlucky enough to be in their way underfoot and the ground turned purple with blood. Unlike his older brother, Kula preferred to use an axe in close combat, hacking and slashing savagely and with a wild abandon. Kula's strength rivalled Boldbator's and even stout shields were not proof against his blows. Boldbator saw his sister now facing off against the Sukh bannerman, a hulking brute who glowered at her, holding a huge, studded club in one hand on the Sukh horsehair banner in the other. He moved to assist her when the enemy keshig charged, diverting his attention. He dodged wildly as one man rode up, striking with his sword. Boldbator surged up, slamming his shield into another foe, knocking him from his horse. He grabbed the horse's reins and pulled it around violently, interposing the beast's mass between himself and his attackers. As the warriors of the keshig broke left and right to get around the horse, he charged again, taking the fight to the unprepared Sukh on the left. He drove his sword into the face of the first foe and then dodged left. He caught a blow on his shield and counterstruck, creasing the enemy's shoulder and sending him staggering away. He exchanged furious blows with another man before the tip of his blade bit into the man's ribs. He wrenched the sword loose and charged on, relying on his own keshig to have his back. He battled forward, looking once again for the enemy commander when he heard his sister shout. He whirled about and saw her rolling on the ground with the huge man, fighting desperately to not be pinned. He was about to charge in when he saw her manage to writhe out from beneath her foe and scramble onto his back. She had lost her sword but now had her slender khirris in hand. She reached down and pulled the straps of his helmet tight, restricting his breathing and pushing the iron and leather cap down over his eyes. He struggled wildly, trying to throw her off, but she would not relent. She gripped his chin and pulled up, every muscle contorting with the effort, exposing his neck. There was a ragged tearing sound as her knife raked across the skin and severed his jugular. She screamed triumphantly as he died, standing tall and holding her bloody blade aloft. "I, Khorijin of the Tengger, have slain Dogar of the Sukh clan!" she called loudly. Hundreds of voices called back, lauding her impressive victory. Boldbator took a moment to look around at the battle, getting his bearings when he noticed the enemy commander- the warrior seemed frozen in place, gazing at Khorijin and the slain bannerman in shock. A black swathe of silk wrapped their head, not unlike a Buddhist priest would do. Their sword was almost limp in their hand. Boldbator wanted to charge but a sense of almost lethargic calmness came over him suddenly. The air seemed almost thick and the sounds of battle dragged by, like a droning khoomei chant in a monastery. The movement of those about him seemed almost suspended in time. He heard the howl of the wolf and saw its ethereal form loping across the battle plain, so real to him and yet so intangible. These moments seemed so strange to him, since he never knew when they would happen, but they always led to moments of perfect clarity and flawless judgment and action. In spite of the fluid nonsense around him, Boldbator lunged in. He saw the strikes of his enemy before they happened, cutting men down with ease, as if they were no more than Chinese paper before his blade. The galzuural, the battle frenzy that took over him, made everything feel and seem effortless. Within moments, the bodies of the Sukh keshig lay in bloody, ruined heaps and he trudged toward the commander, who stared him down fearlessly. The world now consisted of the two of them alone. He struck and his foe took the blow on their shield before counter-attacking. Boldbator parried with his blade and thrust in, the tip of his sword not piercing the shoulder armour but forcing his enemy back. His follow-up blow was caught on the shield again and he realized that his enemy was reliant on it for protection, considering it the only defence available, not an option. He struck again, one again forcing the shield to be raised. As he did so, he slid over to the outside and then bashed the shield with his own, spinning his foe and exposing their back... He thrust out his foot in a brutal kick, right into the Sukh khan's lower spine and sending them to their knees with a grunt of pain. He knocked aside the shield and stepped on his foe's hand as soon as they'd gripped their sword again. His blade came to rest just below their chin and he grinned wolfishly, daring his foe to make a move. "I am Boldbator, khan of the Tengger," he said levelly. "And this victory is mine." "You have indeed triumphed, lord of the Tengger," replied his foe in a rapsing voice, a higher-pitched one than he would have expected. "Well done." The defeated leader unwrapped the silk covering from their head, exposing themselves to him. Eyes glinting with intelligence stared back up at him. "I am Toragana, daughter of Delger and khan of the Sukh confederacy," she declared, panting, her eyes never leaving his. "And I am your prisoner..." *** Author's Notes: In case you're wondering, the name of Boldbator's tribe, the Tengger, is borrowed reverently from the Mongolian folk metal group 'Tengger Cavalry'. Give them a listen, they're quite phenomenal. They are my music of choice when writing this story. You'll find their lyrics spread throughout the narration, when they might be appropriate. If you've read my other works on this site, you'll notice it is quite a bit different from the rest. There's an overall story and plot, and the graphic sex/erotica happens to just be one prominent aspect of it. Notice also, if you will, some themes of incest, romance and fetish. It'll be difficult to figure out what category to put this particular offering in.