The Secret History of the Bargas

filcat · Jul 22, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - III

The Followers, The Bear, and The Others

I never heard that fame, Friend, but I have been living among the people of your lands, and I have heard the whispers in the tales. Just as the Bargas, except the name in Toghun Khan you said before, they are lost for us in their name.

I told you all of them, and yet you keep asking for them. Toghun was unique, for he was the cheerful in his mind, unaware of his life when he died. Of the Bargas we left in the past, but the mothers we had will live forever for they must. It was first The Wolf who howled, then was The Owl who cared, later was The Fox who aided, last came The Warrior who loved. They were, and many more there were, but this was the sacred line. Yet the ancestor was to lie, and their children were lost in their ezens, hunted by yors, haunted by irshis, for they were never to yield and ever to wrath, but all to destroy.

But Friend – who was The Seeker?

She came from the steppes, not one of us, ever without a father nor a mother, but still a daughter of the All-Sky ruling his eternal skies of blue, and a daughter of the All-Earth shining her glorious braids of sun, just as anyone never to have ancestors nor names. She rode with her baatars of the four, came to the ordo of Ariq Khan on her kneels to bow. She was the one known by the fame The Seeker, and she was the one who proclaimed him the khan to rule. She called for the blessings from Tengri, and she relinquished her power for she had no envy. The Seeker rode to the lands of the brother to khan, known by Aldar, ruled as Noyan, she became the woman and the guide for him in the young. She brought aid and guidance, bestowed fortune and advice to brothers and sisters, told the tales of mothers and fathers. She declared the rule of the steppes, for the tales to be told to all, for the wounds to be healed for all.

No one listened at first, but she did not yield, thus Aldar Noyan followed her. The young ruler earned his fame as The Tempest, and he would lead all the baatars and the riders for his khan. Aldar Noyan the Tempest was the first to follow her, for the name of the Bargas, in the name of Tengri the Eternal Blue. The Seeker was already and always followed by the four; Achigh of the Borogchins, for he was the man of Temyulen the Black Tiger; Dergun of the Hokhots, for he was the man of Saran the Restless Heron; the other two were Kubasar of the Sartlans, and Inancha of the old tengris; and all were once baatars for the ruler in Khasagt Khairkhan. Others have already forgotten the tales. Only the names remained. I remember her, I remember the words of her, I remember the tales told by her.

Friend, did her tales capture the interest of Ariq Khan? Did Ariq Khan listen to her words?

Ariq Khan listened to her words in his sharp mind, with his narrowed eyes, through his thundering heart. He heard of her tales, he took her advice of the wise, yet he was not persuaded for the first suns of his age. But Aldar Noyan the Tempest would seek her guidance, Achigh of the Borogchins would remember all her words, Dergun of the Hokhots would accept all her blessings, Kubasar of the Sartlans would defend her from all dangers, for the coming days Inancha of the old tengris would carry her vision in the questions. The words of her were to heal the wounds in the minds, Ariq Khan would receive comfort in those tales delivered from the past. Yet he was not persuaded by her words, but Phongma would listen to her wisdom.

I – I heard of the name, Friend.

Yes, I know you, Rhomaios. I know you heard of the name, for it is obvious.

I – I am afraid to speak, Friend.

No. I have gifted my patience to you, and I deliver the words of the forgotten past for you to hear and deliver for the coming ages, but you do not need to be afraid to know that name, and I will not degrade to apologise for my anger to your transgressions. Speak true, tell your knowledge.

Friend, I am grateful for your forgiveness. Then I shall say, Friend, I do know the name Phongma, yet I only know the remaining might from Ariq Khan of the past, but not of his tales. How could this be possible?

Women of the sacred sea, daughters of the deepest water, we came from them, for their blessing was from the truth. I told you the blessing, and that is the reason of us for whom to remember. Phongma came from the red in the far, on the edge of the Indus realms, but from the mountains of their holy lands. They called Nepal to those peaks, and her ancestors ruled in Limbuwan with bows and arrows, and her family roamed the mountains with their khukuris. She came from the mountains in the deepest red, but her clan of the Belpas, descended from the Sumpas, would follow old tengris of the moon and the sun, thus she regained her kut in the deepest sea.

Friend, I would like to ask for more of the tales about Phongma. She was y –

Silence.

As you wish, Friend.

…

Friend?

She was the betrothed of Ariq Khan, and she arrived in Karabalgasun when he was proclaimed as the khan. She was the light of his days, she was the only one to know his mind, she would accept and honour his fears hidden in the veil of the nights, she was the greatest ally by his side, and this was just after their love. She did not need him for her to be mighty, for she was strong in the mind, she did not need him for her to be worthy, for she was the meaning of honour. He would not dare to challenge her, and she would ride her horse as free and soothing wind, cold and wild storm, warm and loving breeze of the steppes. She was the khanum of Mongolia, she ruled the ordo in her fame and with her name.

I do not wish further exhausting your patience, Friend, thus I will ask the tales of your mightiest ruler. How did Ariq Khan and Phongma Khanum fare in their tale?

He was the khan of Mongolia, and she was the khan of Ariq, of his descendants, of his ordo. Ariq Khan ruled the realm together with his siblings, and Ariq Khan ruled the lands together with Phongma Khanum. She confirmed his choices in the right, she showed him the words of the truth, and she corrected his mind when he was in the wrong.

Friend, I would like to ask, but I am afraid.

Speak true, ask in your mind, but abiding the words of these tales, and you have my patience.

I am grateful, Friend. I would like to ask if – if they had children of their love.

I know you, Rhomaios. You are quick to adapt to the tunes of the songs, the harmony of the poems, the words of the tales, especially when it is among your wishes. It is fine, for now. Yes, Phongma Khanum bore Ariq Khan mighty daughters and sons, for you know it well.

Friend, I ask only as I am curious, but not to insult your mind. Hers was the name Phongma, but was she known by any fame?

You are quick in the mind. Yes, for it was her right, and more, she earned it in her might. Hers was to be sung by khöömis in the winter nights, in the summer days, thus she earned her fame, but all learnt and awed, for she repeatedly proved her might. One day, when the sun was fiery, she ordered her retinue to bring her ordo to the steppes. She gathered her daughters and sons, she guided them into the vast grasslands. The suns were chased by the moons, they cherished the winds and the warmth of the days, they played and danced under the stars of the nights. One night, when the moon was half, she was in her ordo with her daughters and sons asleep, but for one. A son was curious of the Evren the Ever-Divine, and he would sacrifice his sleep to look at the shining rays in the skies, searching for the secrets of the dragon might possess in the stars, but unaware of the steppes. The watchers of the ordo were keen in the eye, sharp in the ear, but they missed the son for he was invisible in the far dark. The wolfs of the wild gathered, they howled and hungered, they surrounded the son in the young, for his eyes were fixed.

But howling was enough, the scent of the hunger was more, for Phongma was the mother of the son, and she would awaken that moment from her deepest sleep, protecting her children by her side. She got out of the ordo as a lightning, her gaze burned where she looked, the watchers were trembling and frantic, fire torches, sky arrows, snow blades, they ran towards the sound of the fray. The thundering scream of the mother was faster, but the running legs of the mother were of the giants, she reached her son before the watchers.

Jumped into the middle of the circle, the hunger of the wolves was never-seen and ever to devour, she braved herself before her son. One wolf jolted, but it was unaware of Phongma and her might, for she grabbed the wolf by its head, hurled it into the sky. Another wolf made its attempt, its teeth shining under the lights of the Evren, but Phongma grabbed it by the jaw, she teared it in her rage, the wolf shrieked in misery for one moment, then silenced suddenly in mortal pain. Two wolves howled and ran away, one wolf remained in the night. She grabbed the forearm of the mutilated wolf before her, put her feet on its head, she roared and pulled, disgusting sound of breaking bones was heard, from the tearing flesh came out the forearm. The remaining wolf was with the threatening eyes of the night, she was holding the limb in her hands.

The wolf ran towards her, and she ran screaming at it, dashed the torn-limb against its head. Fallen onto the ground, the wolf was dazed with the hit it got at its head. She ran and hit at the head of the wolf, and she hit repeatedly until the eyes of the wolf were covered in dark, the skies were covered in her screams, the grass was covered in blood.

Unfortunate for her and for her son, the ran away wolves came with three more companions, but fortunate for her and for her son, they were scattered with the shrieks of arrows falling from the skies. The watchers hurled fire torches, shot sky arrows, drew snow blades, and the flames and the storms and the steel sounds dispersed the incoming pack right away. Phongma embraced her son, cleaned the blood off his head and off his hands, carried him back, surrounded by the watchers of the ordo.

This was only one of the tales for her fame, many more there were, they escaped my ages, but this was the first tale I can remember. Thus I learnt of her fame, The Bear.

Friend, she was –

Careful. Choose your words wise. I do not dispute your mind further, for now, and you should ask as I am able to tell, not more, for now.

Yes, Friend, I will ask only as you speak of the tales, to be delivered for the coming days. Did Phongma the Bear follow the words of The Seeker?

She listened to the wisdom of The Seeker, but she did not use the tales to persuade the khan. Phongma Khanum protected Ariq Khan from the words of the wrong, from the dangers of the false gods, yet she knew the words of The Seeker were in the right, her wisdom was of the truth, for they needed to heal the wounds of the old. All children, all mothers and fathers should learn the tales of their own ancestors, of their past, and more, so to live in safe and care for the coming days, to know the wounds of the old, so to heal them and ride for the coming ages. Thus respected Phongma Khanum the teachings of The Seeker, thus appreciated Ariq Khan the words of The Seeker. He acknowledged the wisdom of her, but the vision of her, the persuasion of her followers, the protection of The Bear, the bond with his siblings were not enough for him to follow, for his mind and so his path were different from them. They respected and followed The Seeker, but all accepted and knelt before the khan.

Friend, how was Ariq Khan persuaded in the end?

None would see the sun, none would enjoy the moon, but the greatest of us rose from the ashes of the forgotten, for he was born to reign all. Falling from the sky of the ever-blue, reborn on the earth of the forever-grey, now everyone shall kneel before the storm, for it is never to cease away. He was persuaded to follow the teachings of The Seeker, but in his mind and for his path. She could not predict it, and that was beyond her powers, for it was by the others who opposed them, by defying their rule, by challenging Ariq Khan in his tales, thus began his path, changing the fate of all.

Friend, to whom do you refer in your words? Who were the others to oppose them, to defy Ariq Khan’s family and his rule, to challenge him in his tales, thus he changed the destiny?

The rest of the world.

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Jul 27, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - IV

Monsters and Men

I understand, Friend. Everyone opposed them, they defied the rule of the Bargas, they challenged the might of Ariq Khan, thus he became the mightiest khan.

No. Your understanding is in the wrong. One cannot point one reason and accept it as the act that hurls boulders down the hill.

I hear your words, Friend. If my humble words may suit your patience, I shall tell you, the creation of us dictates our nature and its path. It is the fate of ours we follow. Friend, since the creation, this is the way all lived with, for all people abide the rules of the wild, for all of us can fall in sin, whereas we should follow the words of our Lord Saviour, thus we can redeem ourselves.

Amazing. Your mind is even sharper than the mind I have, yet you hide behind such weak words to conceal your shining. This is your reason, Rhomaios, now you are saying this. You have claimed you were not in this mind you have now, and you say now more, that you have changed, is this true?

But these are the true words of my mind, as you say Friend. In my words, I am showing you the salvation of my soul. Your words may not be in the harmony of the bards so you claim, but my words are definitely not in the wisdom of the priests for my God. I assure you, my heart was and is, pure and honest from the beginning, so I was told at the monastery to seek guidance, for I confessed and be done with my sinful life. I was a sinner, as all we are. I was cleansed of my burden, I was forgiven for my sins, I was reborn to live in the name of my Lord Saviour.

I know you, Rhomaios. You insist on the change you have achieved, so you could reach the salvation for your soul, in your words. You think you cleared all the foul ezens from your mind, and I will not oppose you in that regard. I will not take your absolution from you if you have found it. Know that while keeping your peace, your path of salvation is by your mind, not by following the guidance of the priest you call, not by believing in the words of your Iesous-tengri you love. This is even more true for the ones that lead. People follow them without any choice, and the leaders gain more power through their trustful following. Then the sins fade away from the eyes, they will be silenced for the ears, their taste melts, their spirits evaporate, no one is able to touch them any more, and the rest will be forgotten for the tales.

Friend, is this the limit of your patience? These words are troubling.

Be on your path, I will not stop you Rhomaios. Hear the words of the truth, for I will tell you: One needs to eat to live the good life. One needs to find the purpose of its life to clear the mind from foul ezens. One needs to ask to learn the reason, to create the purpose, to hunt for the food.

Friend, there is only one Creator.

Keep your faith in your redemption, Rhomaios. I will not take that from you, I do not need to cast cruelty on anyone, not any more. Instead, unburden yourself for the words you hear now. Even if one hunts for the food and eat, despite asking to learn the reason, although one seeks the purpose of being, one has to have a gracious mind, a strong trust, a benevolent hope. The mind is the only source to empower one’s dreams, to tame its heart, to lead the way on its path. Yet there is the world the one lives in, living on its own, riding independent from the ambitious mind, flying in the skies always unknown for the one. Surrounding the one with its enormous reach, throwing the fortune, good of nature, bad of spirit, at the one who can never predict. Mind of the cordial can face the challenges, trust of the iron can brave against the hardship, hope of the love can prevail all the difficulties. Unfortunately…

Unfortunately, Friend, you said unfortunately, but by what, but for whom? For the one who has all the skills and the good fortune, what happens to those unskilled and unfortunate? The course of the world will change the fate of those, are these the words you have in your mind? Is not that course the will of the God?

No. You know how the monsters come alive, do not excuse them with the unlucky circumstances, never be loved, forsaken from good spirits. That is a foolish reason to pardon them, for they exist the monsters we call them, gods and spirits, even among the living, men and animals.

D – Do you mean, Friend, the mightiest ruler of your lands, of your realm, of your tales, became a monster, else he was born a monster?

None of them, but not for the reasons you expect to be. For us he was the mightiest, and forever he shall be. Unfortunate for the others he will be cursed and hated, as they can breathe.

Then Friend, what was he, if neither of them, else both for everyone?

He was of the name Bargas, from the sacred line proclaimed as the khan he was, he was for all Mongolia Ariq Khan, the one to rule in the steppes. The Bargas never wore crowns, and will never need such fame, and will never do so as you see. That was not enough for him, thus he was bold enough to challenge his father in his reign, that was the reason his kin terrified of him. That was the reason The Seeker wished to guide him. That was the reason the rest of the world defied him. None would satisfy him, no one could help him, anyone could challenge him. Unfortunate for all the living, for we are the living-kind, and we follow the leaders for the reasons I will never know.

But Friend, it is natural and benign, it is expected and honourable, to follow the ones that lead. I told you, if everyone would follow the words of the God, everyone could –

Spare me your naïve absolution. You want to be free of nightmares and be loved and be saved, thus you find the peace in your path. You do not accept the truth I tell you, yet it is you, through your mind you save yourself. So be it, do not accept it, and call it the miracle of your God. Know that the sun does not rise as you wish. The moon does not shine as you want. Kün Ana will chase Ay Ata until the end of the days, and regardless of them the living will follow those who lead them. I will never understand, they will never see the doom the leaders bring onto them. I will never find the truth behind it, for we follow whoever leads.

Yes Friend, those weak in the mind, they follow everyone, be it magnificent rulers, else monsters alike. I can only hope my words can sooth you for your pain, as fortunate for us, there are many more magnificence and benevolence, than maleficence and monstrosity.

You still insist on the greatness and the kindness of the tales, the love and the bravery in the names. It is pitiful to see such a mind in the sharpness, falling into the madness of foolishness.

Friend, I do know my words, and I do know my mind, as you say. It is from the truth, my words are honest, but your words are hurtful.

Is that so? Then tell me Rhomaios, tell me the greatest ruler of yours, what did he do?

Alexandros? He was the greatest conqueror, true to his sword, honest to his friends, brave to his enemies.

What kind of treachery do you believe, so it makes you to say these words you think all real, I will never understand.

Friend, do you think that rulers are good for themselves, but evil for the ones they defeat?

This is the most naïve excuse one can think. Such will lead one to absolve the monsters of their vile sins.

Friend, it is true that only God All-Mighty forsakes and forgives –

Enough of your Iesous-tengri, other’s Allah, their Shiva-tengri, another’s Buddha-tengri, our Tengri All-Sky. One cannot oversee the wild cruelty when it is done. This is the consequence of hearing the words of the past, but to glorify them by their unreality. Alexandros the great King of Dayuan, no one can challenge him, his bravery for the legends! Amazing!

But, Friend –

Well, was he? Speak true!

Friend, he was also unfortunate due to the false gods he believed, but he was venerated numerous times by our words, for he was still beloved by our Lord.

Is this the truth you want to believe in? After all the conquest and plunder and murder and savagery he did, brought, and caused?

Lord save us! You are talking lies about Alexandros! The greatest conqueror ever be!

…

A – Apologies Friend, I did not intend to yell, forgive my ignorant attitude, forgive my pathetic words.

No. On the contrary, for once again you have spoken true. The truth of your mind. So be it. His name had the greatest fame ever be, so you say. Did he ride his horse from the sea in the middle of the earth to the deepest jungles of the Indus by himself, for he was the greatest?

No, Friend. He was… He was followed by his army and his companions, by his people and his subjects.

I know you, Rhomaios. You still do not want to see the monster in that tale. You wish to hear and live in the peace of the greatness and the kindness, so you expect them from the tales. Tell me of those armies of this greatest conqueror. Did he order them to follow him, to bring flowers and music, honey and love with themselves to the lands between the rivers? To the mountains of the Pars? To the jungles of the Indus?

No… He did not, Friend.

No, indeed no. They brought doom and agony, they ravaged and pillaged, they murdered and conquered. There was your Alexandros, greatest for your kind, a monster for those fell before his army of spears.

But Friend! Even those people you say, they call him the great conqueror! They mourn for him and remember his tales! They cherish and love his fame!

Truly the most childish tale you want to live in. When one conquers and murders to leave no one behind, the remaining every other will follow the one. Yes, that is one of the closest reason I could find, yet it fails most of the times. It does not matter if others respect your mightiest as Iskandar, else sing his tales as King of Dayuan, you cannot absolve the demise of so many lives. All the tales are lost from those that fell. All the songs we never heard from those that died for these conquerors. All the names are forgotten of those who perished by those armies of doom.

Friend, this is just gloom-cast on the mind, you do not say yours and others’ rulers are monsters as they lived, do you? How could you judge your past with such anguished mind?

Gloom-cast on the mind, so you have very well learnt by living among us. Speaking to you to deliver the words of mine for the coming ages is the greatest decision I have ever made. Yes. But to answer your question, no, it is not the gloom, but the need for the truth, for it is to your benefit to see the battle of monsters and men in our minds.

Friend, do you think such evil beings live among us?

I know you, Rhomaios, for you think it is true.

Friend, I assure you I have seen monsters, but not the ones you spoke of. Your mightiest ruler cannot be one of them.

Oh, now you have returned to the ill words of the lies. You regard us highly for we are the riders from steppes, yet we are all raiders from the steppes for your kind always say. Tell me then, who was the Scourge of the God?

I – I...

Well, speak true!

A – Attila, I hope I remember the name correctly, Friend.

Lies again, you do recall and know and say it in the truth, but shadowing your words as if it is blurred to your mind. You do know the name, and you do see all people of the steppe as his kind, in his savage nature, so you call us all barbarians. Well, speak true!

Y – Yes Friend, but I do assure you, after I have lived among your people –

Save me the trouble to condemn your words once again. It is even engraved in your tales for Alexandros, for he was the one to seal the mountains against Gog and Magog. Do not look in such misery, those are the words I heard their sounds as shaped on your scrolls. Then came the Scourge of the God, pillaging and plundering, murdering and conquering, Attila the rider from the steppes. I heard those tales, your kind names them for nightmares. That was the name for the monsters but reserved for us. There were others to claim his descent, yet you call us, the riders of the steppes, again your monsters to be afraid.

Yes, Friend. I cannot deny the cold words you say and I suffer to hear now. I have realised what you are telling me. Yes, Attila was the terrible monster in our tales. Yet he was followed, and even after his age, he was the respected ancestor of the many in the plains of Oungroi. They called themselves Magyars, they came from Almos of the Arpads. There were also the Bolghars, they claimed to descend from Kubratos of the Dulos, they claimed to rule after the Huns. But I suffer from your words, for I need you to know my true mind, for I do not see you as barbarians.

Cease the suffering you have. I do not say the monsters shall be regarded as the mighty rulers to embrace. That is a disease of the mind, possessed by ezens, left behind by iyes. There are ones that are remembered as such, yet there are ones that deserve truly the fame of villainy as such. Ariq Khan was none of them, yet he became else to be terrified.

The lure of the rule can corrupt the purest hearts, Friend.

No. Such nonsense is the excuse of yours, once again to ease your suffering from the sins left in the past, else your sorrows of the agony lived now in your days. Leaders rule with the dread of eternal fear else the honour of immortal love, yet the people have no other choice but to follow. They provide the power, not tengris of yours, else others’. Yet it is known as such, for the rule is divine to follow, honourable for the many as you say, and the rulers will live and order as their minds tell. That temptation you call, the taste of ruling, the might of reign, it can only bolster the true spirits hidden in the mind. That is what I have found for I asked to learn, but unable to name.

Friend, if the rule is not divine, how come – No Friend, I cannot accept this. This is not the mind to fall into, these questions you ask will poison your mind.

Remarkable. Believe the life you have seen, however you want to live. But I need your mind to deliver the words of mine, thus they can be heard in the coming ages, to understand the reasons of the past, but not to glorify those tales.

Friend, was Ariq Khan your mightiest ruler, who became as such in your words, who does not deserve any songs of his victories in his name?

I told you, he was the mightiest ruler ever to be, forever to rule, ever to remember. The famous victories with the thousand spears, the grand loyalty of the honourable warriors, marching from the sea in the middle of the earth conquering the unknown, just as the suffering and glory your Alexandros left, but more than he could ever be as you said. The fiery clouds with the burning arrows, the screaming horses of the wild steppes, riding from the grasslands descending upon the cities, just as the horror and valour Attila left, but more than he could ever be as I say, and I say this as the unfortunate.

Un – Unfortunate for whom, Friend?

For the others that opposed. For you and your kind. For the rest of the world.

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes. Correction on format.

filcat · Jul 27, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - V

Ten Suns of War

F – Friend? Unfortunate for m – my kind?

Yes, for you, for everyone, for the rest of the world. I told you, for his path was different from the ones surrounding him. He was opposed by all, that is the rest of the world. However you live with us, your kind will be the other for us. Those opposed him were the others for his rule. Yet he heard the tales of The Seeker, he appreciated her words to heal the wounds inherited from the days of the old. He ruled with the dread of his ancestors, he ruled with the love for his honour. He heeded the advice given to him, he fought against the ones that acted dishonourable towards him, he conquered the lands neighbouring his realm. The grass grew rich, the cattle grew fat, the people were happy, the kin was loyal. But the life of conquerors is spent on the battlefields, away from the ordo, far from the hearth. The ordo of Ariq Khan’s riders was safe from the dangers, for the rule of Phongma the Bear was ever to be admired. The Borchigin lands of his ordo were in the prosper, for the rule of Temyulen the Black Tiger was ever to be respected. Yet Tuyana the Moon Sable was still in the envy, yet Kublai Darqan was unhappy. Tuyana would be jealous of his kin, Kublai Darqan would fight the Buryat irgens for his brother, but he would disapprove Ariq Khan’s appreciation of the words from The Seeker. Aldar and Sambuu wished to be darqans in his rule, Altana the Silent Seal would be ever to fear, hesitant to challenge. Saran the Restless Heron wished more for her man, but the Four Khishigs followed however The Seeker would tend. Ariq Khan had the gracious mind, the strong trust, the benevolent hope. His mind ruled his heart, for he was aware of the power of his mind. He did not become the fallen of the tales as you simplify, but he was always in the ambition, so began his rule with wars, lasted for ten suns.

Which wars were they, that Ariq Khan had to fight, that lasted for ten years, Friend?

Every challenge he faced, he had to fight with his honour, every other ruler opposing him would try his valour. The Seeker told him to spare the Bajandaj clan in Tagul lands, for not only they were his distant kin, yet more, for their name also preserved the reasons for a dreaded fame left in the past, known only to The Seeker. She was the keeper of the tale, bringer of the wisdom. Thus he appreciated the words of her, so he left the lands of the Bajandaj without the horrors of wars.

Friend, if the conquest follows a reason of just and honour, it cannot have horrors as you call.

This is utter nonsense, for you to say and thus trying my patience. I know you, Rhomaios, you are sharp in the mind, you must know the truth when one faces a war.

I am in the deepest regret of your hurtful words for me, Friend. I do know the horrific side of the battles, but when they are done in the name of benevolence, thus they bring greatness and kindness.

Incredible nonsense. I have to struggle in my mind to keep my patience for you. When you face the foe on the battlefield, the song for who wins and who loses you will hear. The tales you hear do not have the words for how warriors of the honour cry in the pools of blood and filth, they do not speak of the rotten bodies of the dead, the agonising screams of the orphans, the severed heads that never to sing, the torn limbs of the loved ones to break the hearts and doom the remaining minds, the fathers and the mothers burying their sons and their daughters, the children looking for their parents, the burning horses fallen to feed the vultures, crows and ravens in the skies hunting the flesh of the ones that will never rise, that will never see the beauty of the sun, that will never taste the breeze in the warming summer, that will never hug the beloved to embrace the icing winter, while the survivors all together trying to breathe in the stench of the unspeakable, undefinable, unthinkable horrors. None is of love and of bravery so you say.

I – I do not have the experience of your wisdom, Friend. Forgive me for my convictions. Were the wars of Ariq Khan of such nightmares?

All wars are such, no matter the ruler’s might. His fortune was the good ezens he had, with loyal baghaturs he rode, with loving people he ruled, the strongest bond between his kin, thus he was victorious. Ariq Khan fought against the Karagas for the lands of Jerjul, for that was the wish of Sambuu Noyan. The Seeker supported the wish, for the Karagas were in the wrong, ever to cleanse the tales of their neighbours. Ariq Khan rode with his baghaturs to conquer the lands of Kizir, for that was the right of Aldar Noyan. The Seeker did not approve, but she persuaded the khan to let the child of Yenisei Kirgiz to live, let him learn and tell of his ancestors’ tales, let the wounds of the past to heal.

Friend, did Ariq Khan always ask the advice from The Seeker?

I told you, he did not follow her words, to bring the tales to all people, whoever they are, whether friend else foe. Phongma the Bear respected her wishes, his kin followed her teachings, thus Ariq Khan appreciated her words, so he heeded the advice in her tales. But the rest of the world would not listen to her, for she was the disciple of Tengri the Eternal Blue, just as the Bargas as well as Ariq Khan. People have different tengris, just as you have, and the Karagas were many in the numbers enough to follow many more in the wrong. One of them was the Chadzakh Darqan daughter of Bady-Drozhu, and she assembled her riders to reconquer the lands of Yenisei in the name of her tengris. The sacred river of the people was ruled by the Bargas of Dayan Noyan since the age of The Owl, and it was clear to Ariq Khan for he could not leave his kin alone. He called his banners, riders from all corners, entire Mongolia followed his lead to conquer.

What did The Seeker do when he rode for Yenisei, Friend?

It was the day The Seeker would agree with Ariq Khan, for she was loyal to Tengri, for she could not let the Karagas of the other tengris to rise, for she could not allow to lose the tales of Yenisei people. Thus began the war for Chulym, and later continued for five suns, now remembered as the Yenisei Battles. The Seeker supported Ariq Khan, thus thousands followed his lead to Yenisei.

Which battles were they, that Ariq Khan fought and won, Friend?

You assume victory, for he was the mightiest khan. Yes, he won the war in the end, but they were not all glorious victories. He rode to Chulym to siege the ordo of the Kokuns, for he was a lightning from the Ülgen when it came to decide on his targets. Chadzakh Darqan would not yield, so lasted the war for five more suns. Phongma would ride by his side, the Four Khishigs would follow him to all the battles as The Seeker agreed, nine baghaturs that would always answer his call, five jaghuns of riders from the steppes, five jaghuns of riders of the spears, one mingghan of riders fighting on foot, along with them seven mingghans of harans heeding the call of khan by the words of The Seeker. Chadzakh Darqan sent words to her ally, Zamso of the Bargas, descendant of Erdeni, Darqan of Arkhangai from Ariq Khan’s own realm, so gathered their force of only four mingghans for conquest, thus clashed the armies from plains to the hills of Taskyl.

His own kin would oppose Ariq Khan’s rule, was this true, Friend?

Yes, just as they attempted to rise against his rule with the support of Tuyana the Moon Sable his own sister, his kin would still wish to topple Ariq Khan. His was the vast khanate that reigned over the Mongolian lands, and there could be only one khan to rule the steppes. Zamso Darqan was one of those, you spoke before thus I told, for theirs were truly sinful by marrying own kin to keep their right to rule unlike the sacred line, he envied the following Ariq Khan would receive by the words of The Seeker. The war was inevitable, so Ariq Khan rode his riders to the battle, but he was a thunder from Ülgen to disrupt and divide and tire his foes on the fields. When your Lord was of the age nine hundred and eighty four, Zamso Darqan succumbed to his wounds from other battles, Galsan son of Zamso of the Bargas would ride with the baghaturs of his late father.

They were exhausted and disparate, three mingghans of warriors were theirs when they were ambushed, on the hills of Taslyk by the riders of Ariq Khan. Armies clashed to decide upon the dispute they had over Yenisei. The column of Ariq Khan rode slowly in the centre towards his foes, then he hastily retreated. Galsan son of Zamso was blundered to chase him, the two columns of Aldar Noyan were on the opposite sides, they rode within the flash of the breath, the arrows rained from the sky onto the heads, thus were the warriors of Chadzakh Darqan and her allies surrounded. The clash lasted from the day until the eve, horses screamed, arrows flew, swords clanged, all to end in the song of the doom for the fallen. Cries for Tengri and for other tengris sounded on the hills, so had to flee the alliance of Karagas from Ariq Khan’s forces.

Was this the end of Yenisei Battles, Friend?

No. Then followed the slaughter. Two moons shined in the sky of the nights, Chadzakh Darqan gathered her remaining forces to descend from Altai mountains. Only one mingghan was left for her cause, when they had to face the riders of Ariq Khan. They had nowhere to run away, thus Ariq Khan’s riders crushed them within the day. None was left alive but only three, they were led by Chadzakh Darqan but could not flee. The Seeker told Ariq Khan to spare the Karagas daughter, for she fought valiantly and never to yield. He appreciated her words, and for the honour of the tales to live, Ariq Khan spared the life of Chadzakh Darqan daughter of Bady-Drozhu. She accepted the defeat in her rage, she returned to her ordo with her wounds.

Friend, this tale is not of monsters, for you are telling the magnificent justice of your mightiest ruler. I do think you were unfair in your words. Did Ariq Khan return his ordo to Karabalgasun, to ride in fame and joy of his victory?

So be it. I will tell you the tales of the wars that lasted for ten suns, and those I have told so far were only the first ones. No, he could not return, for they could not pass the Khakas lands. He left the rule of Chulym to his kin Toq Noyan son of Dayan Noyan of the Yenisei Bargas, but he received ill words from the Karagas, from the lands of the Khakas. Belek Darqan of the Karagas was his name, The Flayer of Khakas lands was his fame, and he scorched the steppes before the return of Ariq Khan, he slaughtered the cattle before Ariq Khan could provide his ordo, he sent the herders to Ariq Khan from those lands he raided. Those he sent were bereft of their life for they lacked their skin, they were flayed by Belek Darqan for this was his fame.

This is… This is evil, Friend, a terrible end for a soul.

The minds of the families were devastated, for they lost their sons and daughters, fathers and mothers to such an end. It was a villainy of Erlik-wise, yet it was the vision of Belek Darqan to exhaust the ezens of Ariq Khan. This was the ambition of High King Deryab, for it was him to persuade Belek Darqan to act as such, despite the animosity between all of them. Yet Ariq Khan was not alone, for he had the support of his kin, the advice of The Seeker, and the love of Phongma. Thus he gathered his remaining riders far from Karabalgasun, and he rode to fight Belek Darqan in his lands of doom.

How was Ariq Khan supported by his kin, Friend? What was the advice of The Seeker? Did Phongma ride with him to all his battles?

The bond between the siblings was never to surrender, yet the wars to last for ten suns were ever to try that kinship. Kublai Darqan was holding the Buryat mountains, but he was unable to reach his brother khan to aid in the wars, for he was fighting against the rebelling herders. The ordo of Karabalgasun was moved to Karakorum under the orders of Temyulen the Black Tiger and Saran the Restless Heron, for it was safer to keep the hearth in the deep of the steppes, closer to Gobi, at the footsteps of Övörkhangai mountains. Unfortunate for them, neither could send any rider to deliver their words to each other, for it was Belek Darqan killing the messengers of örtöö. Ariq Khan was in the dark, for he was away from his hearth, and none of them knew the silence from the red.

What was the reason to receive no words from their kin in Tibet, Friend?

It was silent all from the lands of red to the Gobi, for the passes were held by the Güchügüds in Gobi-Altai. It was thought as the greed of Naiman tribes, but it was the Erlik-wise plan of High King Deryab. To keep the Mongol Khanate out of reach from its hearth, from its people, from its kin. Thus was the reason Ariq Khan attacked Belek Darqan, to bring his ordo of riders back to the hearth now in Karakorum. It was advised by The Seeker, to release the anger before the battles, so it can be justified for the coming days, for the wrath is always to blame when it comes to mistake. Ariq Khan was comforted by the tales of The Seeker, but more than the words he was with his ever-loving wife Phongma by his side. The ordo of the riders moved sun after sun, fought sun after sun, yet it would not be possible without the love of Phongma, else he would succumb to gloom and defeat of exhaustion.

Those years were fruitful for their love, for it was first Alan Gua of the Bargas, then one sun after her Khulan of the Bargas be born to Phongma and Ariq Khan. Four suns passed, another child was born, in the ordo that moved from battle after battle since eight suns. The son was named Chagatai, born to Phongma from Ariq Khan, when your Lord was nine hundred and eighty eight in his age.

Friend, should I –

Silence. Do ask your questions as in your mind, do keep the words as I tell from my mind.

As you wish, Friend. How did the war against Belek Darqan end? Was Ariq Khan victorious in the battles?

Yes, but the battles he won were slaughters, not glorious victories, in the lands of Kyzylkul, bringing the warriors of Belek Darqan to their ends. This land of yellow grass was to the red of the forests from the lands of Aldar Noyan, thus Bargas of the Mongol Khanate could swiftly gather their forces before Belek Darqan. His foul allies from Siri-Derya, Khozel Khan of the Karakhanids, black khans from the Karluk lands, were afar, so ambushed Ariq Khan the protectors of Khakas hearth. In Kyzylkul surrounded the warriors of Belek Darqan, and Ariq Khan ordered his riders to trot and loose, to rain arrow and cause despair, thus the battle became a massacre. None but two from one mingghan remained alive, thus was their noyan Todogen of the Betegins set free after the battle by the words of The Seeker. She could not predict, but he would be punished by Belek Darqan, for it was his nature, his mind was filled with ezens of ill-bringers, possessed by blood-cast of Erlik-tengri.

Ariq Khan ordered his troops to ride until the Tannu mountains in the blue, to siege down the yurts, to capture the cattle, while Khozel Khan of Karakhanids was marching with his army towards them. Ariq Khan was far in the steppes, ordered his ordo to rest, yet the defeat was imminent once should they meet, but his baghaturs were ever capable and swift, capturing the peaks. Belek Darqan yielded, thus ended the war of Khakas, with the conquest of Kargassia by Ariq Khan.

I hope thus he returned his ordo of riders, to the hearth in Karakorum in safety, Friend?

No, for they were blessed by Ülgen in the battles, but they were at the mercy of the winter. Few moons passed, they could gather whoever left to follow Ariq Khan in the white of the Khakas, but they could not even send a rider to Karakorum, for Belek Darqan’s raiders were still on the fields. High King Deryab realised his vision divined from Erlik, so they were in the silence from all the corners of the steppes. Tsymzidma Noyan the Wise Karsak heard the plight of her brother, urged her man Asalup Noyan to send his riders from the mountain onto Belek Darqan, to subjugate him to forever silence him. Nine hundred and eighty nine was the age of your Lord, hearing the words of the war once again over the remaining Khakas lands, Ariq Khan ordered his ordo to ride yet again. This was the only fortune he could have, for he could not ride for Karakorum in the winter days. Even his sister Temyulen the Black Tiger was visiting the lands of Aldar Noyan, only she was able to return to Karakorum for she had a retinue but low in the numbers. Kublai Darqan was now furious for the never-ending wars in the steppes, but his was the bond of the blood, the oath of the honour, thus he accepted the decision of his brother.

How long did Ariq Khan and his ordo fight in this war, Friend? Were they ever to see their steppes in Borchigin lands?

Yes, but not as one would wish. He was able to order some of his riders to return their yurts, for that was the advice of The Seeker. Iturgen Shaman was able to secure the steppes even during the battles, but the ordo of Ariq Khan was diminishing in the numbers, he listened to the words of The Seeker. For two suns on the hills, in the plains, in the mountains, they fought and clashed, ambushed each other at the nights, for Khozel Khan of the Karakhanids would send all Karluks to support Belek Darqan. It was a war that no one would be victorious, the battles were far from glorious. They became the butchers for each other’s peoples, no land was left without blood. Ariq Khan was in the unknown, just as Temyulen the Black Tiger, along with Kublai Darqan, even Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak, with Saran the Restless Heron, Sambuu and Aldar were riding from battles to battles, with no fortune to get any words from the lands of the red. This was the vision of High King Deryab, for he wanted to drain all the patience and vigour from the ordo of the Bargas.

It was after the winter of the third sun for the war, High King Deryab sent his words of foul spirits to his irgen Asalup Noyan man of Tsymzidma Noyan, ordering him to return to his mountain, barring him to fight any longer. High King Deryab declared his dominance over the Khakas lands, for his was the greater ambition to rule Mongol lands. He used Belek Darqan with his words in shadow-cast, he succeeded to weaken the riders of Ariq Khan by wars lasting for ten suns, then it was his day to go to battle and seize the Khakas lands. Thus ordered Ariq Khan, after hearing such words of treachery, his kin was to never wear any crowns, for he would never yield against the Kirghiz. The Seeker persuaded Phongma, Phongma begged Ariq Khan, it was the day to return not to fight.

What did Ariq Khan say to the words of his wife Phongma, Friend?

He listened to them, he squinted his eyes, he looked at his loyal Four Khishigs, he ordered his honourable riders to return after so many suns.

Friend, I am happy to hear that he was able to return to rejoice the victories and the life of his.

No. It was not to rejoice and to feast, for it was a rider from the lands of the red to reach. One rider was able to pass the Gobi, after losing many companions, never to yield but to deliver the words from Tibet, from Ariq Khan’s kin to him. The rider reached Karakorum, Temyulen the Black Tiger received the devastating words that were unable to reach them for the past eight suns. She was able to keep her mind in the sane with however ezens she could find before the irgens and her children, Iturgen Shaman advised her to ride for Ariq Khan, he promised her to keep the hearth for the Bargas. She mounted her horse, she sent words to Kublai Darqan, even to Tuyana the Moon Sable, to ride and meet at the ordo of Ariq Khan. She rode for days, Ay Ata chased Kün Ana for many nights, she reached the ordo of Ariq Khan before their return.

All Bargas were in the steppes, at the ordo of Ariq Khan, in the lands of Tunka ruled by Altana the Silent Seal, Temyulen the Black Tiger arrived as if the storming Burkut, she saw Ariq Khan in the end, she jumped from her horse, she stood on the ground, and she let the ezens leave her on that day. She began to scream, and she screamed to tear her throat, birds were shaken, horses were trembling, steppes were resounding, tears from her closed eyes were falling to the earth as if hails of eternal sorrowing. Ariq Khan was cast into ice, he could not predict those words as he heard, High King Deryab could not predict what his Erlik-wise plans would bring, The Seeker could not predict what would happen to the Bargas. Temyulen the Black Tiger was screaming, and all Bargas were paralysed with the malicious spirits, Ariq Khan was only able to squint his eyes, embracing his sister. That scream was heard from Tunka to Buryatia, from Mongolia to Yenisei.

F – Friend, why was she – what was Temyulen screaming of?

Pain. She was screaming of their eternal pain.

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Aug 5, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - VI

Never a Farewell

I do not know how to ask, Friend, for I fear the tale of the scream, the reason for their pain you said.

You fear to hear it, but I dread to remember it. The words reached the hearth of the Bargas in Borchigin lands, and Temyulen was to hear them first. The steppes were open, safe from the raiders, free from the dangers, thus could the clan gather in Tunka lands, uniting the ordos of the Bargas, waiting for the words of Temyulen. She was able to deliver them to the ordo of Ariq Khan. When she arrived, she could only scream. The words were pain, to speak was terrible, the tale was ominous. Many moons and many suns later only, to hear all the tales they were able. That was too late, forbidding them to prevent, making their wishes vanish. Wishes of hope and dreams, of joy and happiness, of love and peace.

The scream of Temyulen tore the sky after the ten suns of war Ariq Khan fought hard. It was the nine hundred and ninety second age of your Lord, but the scream was for their pain from many suns already in the old. The reason of the pain was from many suns before, it was the Erlik-wise vision of High King Deryab, it was the act of Kuchuguden Darqan of Gobi-Altai, it was the villainous greed of Belek Darqan the Flayer, and the Bargas of Mongolia were left in the silent for all those suns.

Were the words delivered from the Barga lands in Tibet? From whom they were delivered, Friend?

Yes. I remember, I remember all the tales, the words, and the names, for I heard them from The Seeker.

Ngamo Bilduu of the Ariksar lands, The Crow Master for her fame, sister of Ariq Khan, for Barga clan by the name she ruled the lands of her mother The Warrior of the Red. She was visiting her sister, Ngamo Byorte of the Maowün lands, The Red Tiger for her fame, sister of Ariq Khan, twin of Temyulen the Black Tiger, for Barga clan by the name she ruled the lands of her mother The Warrior of the Red.

How could this be possible, Friend? Were the sisters of Ariq Khan alone without any allies nor friends in their lands?

Bilduu took her man from the Ngawa clan of the Tibet lands, Byorte took her man from the Galzuud clan of the Buryat lands. Together they ate, they fought, they ruled the lands left from their mother, but with joy, happiness, and peace in their minds, for they were away from their father. When their father rode for the Great Raid, the blue sun and the white doom were brought upon the lands of red. The sisters were wary, mandated to support their father, yet wishing it soon to be over. Together they ate, they fought, they survived.

When their father died, they rode to the hearth in Borchigin lands for the kurultai, as they praised the rule of their brother, thus the age of Ariq Khan began. All siblings asked the two sisters of the red to return to Mongol lands, for the fear of their father was no more, but the sisters devoted themselves for the rule of their lands, so they did not accept. Ariq Khan respected their choice, he praised her sisters’ rule, the honour was high, the funeral of their father and the feasts for their brother lasted to the end, the sisters rode back to their lands in the red.

I understand, Friend. They did not want to leave their own rightful lands, but they could not send any words after their return, is this true?

Yes, you speak true, Rhomaios. When the wars of Ariq Khan began, they lasted for ten suns, the Bargas of Mongolia were never to hear from their kin, for the riders of words could not pass the Altai, for the ways to the red were taken. This was the Erlik-wise vision of High King Deryab of Kirghiz Khanate, it was the act of Kuchuguden Darqan of Gobi-Altai.

Friend, what were the words of the rider bringing them from Tibet lands?

Only many moons and many suns after the scream, to hear all the lost tales they were able.

It was the nine hundred and eighty second age of your Lord, Ngamo Bilduu was visiting the hearth of her sister Ngamo Byorte. Bilduu of the Bargas would not bring her retinue, for it was her sister she met in the lands of Maowün, but she was The Crow Master, for her crow warriors would forever hunt in the dark, for they would never yield in the dark, thus they followed her. Bilduu the Crow Master met her sister, she brought presents for her nephews and nieces, they ate, they sang, they danced together. It was the age of peace, it was the feast to cherish, for the horrors of the past to be forgotten in the dust. Theirs were the lands of the modest, they were the rulers of the honest, but they were of the Bargas, for everyone ever to fear, no one never to forget, they were the daughters of The Warrior of the Red as their mother and their raging father, but they were of the Bargas, for everyone to know, no one to challenge, they were the sisters of Ariq Khan of Mongolia.

Yet the night was slow, but their enemies were sleepless.

Who were these enemies of Barga sisters, Friend?

Ngapo Wangdak of the Ngawas was near, for he was jealous of their riches, for he was envious of their lands, but most of all, for he was furious of their father.

Summer after summer, Kün Ana chased Ay Ata, winter after winter, they would fight each other, they would ravage the lands of each other, they would bleed each other. The vicious violence ended abruptly, for it was the father of the sisters rode to the red with unbelievable, unseen, unforgettable fury. The Great Raid was the blue sun and the white doom for the lands of Tibet, a devastation never believed to happen, an obliteration never seen before, a destruction never to forget. Ngawas, Gers, Lingtsangs, and many more dreaded the beast of rage, for the khan from Buryatia destroying each and every one of his enemies they feared to engage, the people could not even count their fallen, they could not even mourn their dead, they could not regain their ezens from their own tengris. Only the Gyalrong lands were safe, only the daughters of the Bargas were saved, for it was their father, thus they were to obey him forever. When the raid ended, the Mongol raiders left the red behind, the riders rode back to the black of Gobi.

Not many moons passed, the death of the khan from Buryatia was heard. It was rejoiced by the remaining people of the red, but more by the sisters ruling Ariksar and Maowün. The sisters did not know however, how agonisingly furious was the vengeance felt by the survivors of the clans. Ariq Khan was proclaimed the true khan, but he was in the black of Gobi, ruling in the Borchigin lands of Mongolia, thus the Ngawas and the Gers gathered for their own justice to bring.

I understand the reason of their enemies, Friend –

No. You are still assuming the wind is the only reason to shake the barley. That requires winds of the many, to culminate and to gather, to erupt and to explode, but we are not grass living in the wild. We are the beings of Tengri, and we have our minds to devise and to find our reasons. A mind can challenge it to find the true reason, otherwise it may just accept the already happened as it is. If it is unjust, then we call it unfair, regardless its truth. Only Tengri may know the truth, for it is us to ask to learn. None of this can absolve monsters, for they do not need, for their minds are devoured by ezens, for they do not reason.

As you say, Friend, I will keep your words, for the reasons were many, unseen and unknown by any, only to be discovered when asked truly. The night of feast in the lands of Maowün, the Barga sisters were at peace; why were their enemies sleepless, Friend?

The night was slow, when the sisters were feasting in Maowün, thus were their enemies sleepless. Ngapo Wangdak rode from his lands of Sungqu, for he was angry of his own kin to marry a Barga, Bilduu the Crow Master descendant of khans from Buryatia. He gathered his warriors, he rode past the villages, he terrified all people of his enemies, thus they dreaded to defend, left their ruler in the end. Ngapo Wangdak ambushed the night when it was long before the twilight.

Maowün was under siege, before the Bargas would go to sleep. Fiery stones flew in the sky, they crushed the walls without try. A fierce battle ensured beyond the fallen walls, but Ngamo Byorte was determined at her stone house in the high. She was not a fighter, nor a rider, but she was able to close the eyes of those opposing her forever, for she was ever the planner. The children would be given to the riders of the best, to bring them to the mountains of safe, through the gates unknown to many, but she was to remain, for it was her lands, for she was Ngamo Byorte the Red Tiger, blood of The Wolf, descendant of The Warrior, sister of Ariq Khan of the Bargas.

Byorte urged her sister Bilduu to leave with her children, thus she could survive the night without worry. The riders took the children, but the night was ever darker, Ngapo Wangdak was ever fierce, for he surrounded the stone walls completely, he took all roads with great fury, thus Bilduu could not reach, thus the children would not escape.

Byorte was unaware, she was commanding the fight in the yard to be over, for she was waiting her warriors to triumph. Unfortunate cries she heard, Byorte called her warriors back to the hearth of the stone house. The inner walls were of the stone, but they were not high enough to fend off the raiders. The raiders of Ngapo Wangdak breached them easily, they fell by tens trying to reach the house without mercy, but they gathered once again, thus they took the gates without more difficulty. The warriors of Byorte took shelter in the stone house, she climbed the stairs of the hearth, closing the wooden gate behind.

Byorte was still unaware of the cries she heard, but she could not reach them before defending the hearth. Her bowmen were already positioned, the remaining warriors escaped from the doors in the dark to regroup in the backyard. The wooden gate was rammed once, Byorte did not even hold her breath. The wooden gate was rammed twice, the cracks were heard, Byorte raised her hand, she held the rope hanging beside her with the other hand, her bowmen knocked the arrows. The wooden gate was rammed third, it fell before the eyes of the defenders, the raiders of Ngapo Wangdak entered the hearth, frenzy in the eyes, shrieks from their mouth.

Wh – What did Byorte do, Friend?

She smiled.

How, Friend? Why did she smile?

She smiled, for she was Byorte of the Bargas in her name, The Red Tiger she was known for her fame. She pulled the rope with the other hand, thus came kegs of brew, casks of oil from the ceiling, falling down the stairs, crushing many of the raiders, splashing all their content. She lowered her hand, bowmen loosed, arrows flew, many raiders fell on the stone floor, but they did not disperse.

Then she took a torch, Byorte hurled it towards the raiders. She was Byorte of the Bargas in her name, The Red Tiger she was known for her fame, all the raiders invading her stone hearth were burning in the flame.

Was she able to escape, Friend?

Yes. Byorte was ever the planner, for she knew one can rebuild the stone house, but one cannot bring back the dead ones. She left the raiders burning, she regrouped her warriors, she led them to the doors in the dark, thus they gathered in the backyard. They looked for the gate to evacuate, and then Byorte saw the blood in her own eyes, the reason of the cries.

What did Byorte find out for the cries she heard, Friend?

There were two groups of her own people, one already able to rush, but the other was in the melee. The fast ones were trying to escape, for the other ones were trying to defend. The crow warriors of Bilduu were defending her, so the riders could flee with the children of Byorte. Ngapo Wangdak was commanding, the raiders were overcoming. Byorte shouted back, yelling at Bilduu to retreat. The crow warriors surrounded their Ngamo, they defended Bilduu to run back.

How did Bilduu escape, Friend?

She… Bilduu was unrivalled in close fight, but she was carrying her wounds many suns before, and she was carrying her unborn child, yet she was the daughter of The Warrior of The Red. One raider made pass through two crow warriors, she hurled her spear into his guts. As the raider fell with agonising screams, other crow warriors helped Bilduu to run further. Another raider came through, but this time he was struck with the arrow from Byorte’s warriors. They were close to escape, but Ngapo Wangdak’s warriors were many, they reached them hastily.

One raider was from the Ger clan, his name was Mangpoje the Veteran, thus he knew how to fight the crow warriors in the dark. He threw a dagger at one crow warrior, he drew his sword and cut from the neck of another, thus he reached before Bilduu the Crow Master. Bilduu was ever the able warrior, she knelt without any mind, she drew and pushed her dagger, Mangpoje was wounded with the blood spurting out from his belly.

Did Bilduu run after that blow, Friend?

Bilduu was ever the fierce warrior, but it took more than enough to get up for her. She turned her back, she saw her sister, Byorte looked at her back, yelling with joy to reach victory, but still in the hurry to retreat, for it was better to defend once they escape, once they reach the mountains, once they gather all their forces. Bilduu was in the same mind, sharing her sister’s joyous gaze, then the sound of the pierce was flashed, the crack of the bone was heard, the red of the blood was seen.

F – Friend? Whose sword – who was cut?

The sword came through her belly, slashing through her spine, cutting through her unborn child, dooming both their lives. Bilduu looked at the sky, her brows lifted, then she looked at Byorte, thus her eyes froze, so fell The Crow Master on the ground.

I... I do not know how to express my sorrow, Friend. Who… Who did this?

Mangpoje of the Gers was faster than Bilduu to get up, he was ever filled with anger, he was able to pierce through his opponent, now lying on ground, thus he roared. He did not know however, how much he would suffer, for his wounds were mortal. It would take one summer and one winter for him to die, for his opponent was Bilduu of the Bargas in her name, The Crow Master she was known for her fame, thus she would cover all her blades with poisons.

What did Byorte do, upon seeing this vile killing, Friend?

Her warriors told, for her scream was ever to cold, filling the sky, shaking the stars, for she was never to behold. Her warriors struggled to pull her, holding her arms, making through the carnage, reaching the escaping riders of the best. Her scream was not to fade away, by what Bargas heard from the tales they could find many suns later, but it was the same as the scream of Temyulen they understood. The warriors of Maowün, together with remaining crow warriors, made it through the night, reached the mountains of safe, Byorte could embrace her children, but with gaze of the beast. She sent words to all corners of Gyalrong lands, she sent words to Ariksar lands, she sent words to Borchigin lands. Nothing was in her mind but to gather her forces with her allies, to march on Sungqu lands, to ravage and to eradicate Ngapo Wangdak of the Ngawas.

Was she able to gather all her allies, Friend?

Her allies, yes, but her words to Mongolia never reached Ariq Khan, never reached the hearth of the ordo in Borchigin lands, for the roads were taken by Kuchuguden of the Güchügüds, for Ariq Khan was fighting the wars in the Mongolian steppes, for it was the Erlik-wise plan of High King Deryab to leave them in the silent, to silence them in the dark, to prevent them help their kin in the red. Byorte never heard back from her brother, Ariq Khan never received any words from her sister. For two summers she waited and gathered her forces, for two winters she chased down and hunted the raiders, for two suns she rebuilt her stone house and walls. She heard nothing from her brother, he received nothing from her sister.

This is terrible, Friend, to be left far from one’s kin, with such fate. How did Byorte fare in her tale?

Yes. She thought as you said, she was the only one to avenge her sister, to bring justice. It was the nine hundred and eighty fourth age of your Lord, she gathered her forces, she led them to Sungqu lands. She was the daughter of The Warrior of The Red, she was Byorte of the Bargas in her name, she was ever the planner, but she failed against her fury, for Ngapo Wangdak’s forces were far too many. They ambushed her forces before reaching the lands of Sungqu, thus they clashed in the mountains.

Why did she not retreat, Friend?

Hers were the people of the stone houses, not of the steppes. Hers was the force of warriors, not an ordo of riders. They could not retreat, for she was to bring justice, they could not retreat, for she was leading warriors on foot. They manoeuvred to a hill, to defend and to clash, but Ngapo Wangdak was waiting for this, for he was also gathering his warriors, for he was also an able hunter, for he was also fortunate by his allies, for he was ever to shine on the battles. They surrounded the hill Byorte was holding, they loosed their bows, the arrows fell to bring doom, they drew their swords, the blades clashed to tear down the living. The battle was fierce, Byorte’s warriors were loyal, but Wangdak rushed towards the shields, broke many hands, cut many heads, thus he faced his opponent. Byorte pierced Wangdak’s shield with her spear, but she was not an able rider, nor a fighter. Wangdak was saved by the shield, he cut the spear with his sword, he pushed Byorte with his shoulder. Her warriors surrounded her, one hurled his sword, but he cut the air, for Wangdak was able to kneel, piercing the guts of the warrior with his sword. Another warrior jumped on the back of Wangdak, but he was able to tumble, thus he rose again on his knees. Then came the dagger of Byorte, slashing his arm, spurting his blood out.

She did kill him, right, Friend? Byorte then killed Wangdak, avenging her sister, right?

The sword came from the down, piercing on the side, slashing through the thin armour and the flesh, spurting even more blood on the face. No.

Friend, I – I…

Silence.

…

The sword of Wangdak pierced deep into the left of Byorte, her eyes locked at him, but the shining of her eyes was ever to burn mightier than the blood coming from her chest. Byorte fell on her knees, Wangdak was hardly breathing, then she fell onto her side, her eyes froze in rage, they were fixed in the sky, never to say her mind, but to whisper a faint scream.

Friend, I am… I am in remorse. I do not know what to say for your -

Silence.

As you wish, Friend.

…

You asked for the tale of the scream, the reason for their pain. However I dreaded, however it gave you the remorse, I have to tell all as I remember. That was the tale of Byorte the Red Tiger, that was the tale of Bilduu the Crow Master, and the tales were heard altogether not until many suns later, for the rider from the red brought only the words of their death. The reason of the scream was the pain of Temyulen, paralysing the Bargas gathered in Tunka waiting for her, forcing Ariq Khan to embrace his sister, not to stop her scream, but to live her pain together, for it was eternal. Ariq Khan’s brows were knitted, his eyes were fixed on an unknown place, to an unknown day, for an unknown mind.

The scream of Temyulen was tearing the sky, for they were left in the silent, never knowing the demise of their sisters for eight suns. She was screaming for her twin Byorte, she was crying for their sister Bilduu, for they could not be with them any more, they could never see them any more, they were taken from them forever, without ever to say a farewell.

Note on the link without ever to say a farewell: Max Richter - Never Goodbye - from soundtrack of Hostiles - 2018

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Aug 14, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - VII

All of Them

How could they heal from these ill-words, Friend? No – this must have been devastating for them; how did the Bargas and Ariq Khan survive their pain?

Indeed, the words were devastating. Temyulen was in her borther’s arms; Ariq Khan embraced her to live the pain with her, and she was still screaming after she delivered those words, until her sound silenced, until her throat bled, until her eyes drowned in red, her head buried on the shoulder of her brother, her shriek deafening the ears of her brother, she was unable to stand any more but supported only by the arms of her brother. I remember, I remember all of them, for I saw the tears of all, I heard the cries of all, I cried with all of them.

Saran was on her knees, trying but failing to keep her tears, yet holding the children altogether. As if she could prevent the screams and cries and shrieks reaching the children, as if she could protect them from the pain, as if she could make them forget what they heard, saw, cried. Her man Degun was behind her, along with Achigh and the Khishigs and the baghaturs beside him, holding and covering the children, standing and frowning on their faces, shaking and hesitating to say any word, they were waiting their khan to react, they were waiting The Seeker to speak.

Tsymzidma was holding the hands of her man Asalup, urging him to give her support but not stop her, yet she was without any words, trying to reach her sister and brother to embrace them, yet she was unable to walk even one step. Speechless, soundless, powerless, he was able to overcome her attempts, thus she began shrieking in whispers, prevented by his arms, supported by his love, they fell down on their knees together.

Sambuu was frozen as the words hit him, Aldar was restless when the words reached him. Sambuu was standing, unable to move, aching to breathe, not giving a single sound. Aldar held his own head, then his hands reached his own hair to pull, to tear them until blood came, to scream by the pain only he could cause onto him, as if he could forget the pain of the words that were out of his hands. Yet he was already crying, thus he reached Sambuu, embracing him by his shoulder, shouting at him to return back, from the darkness he succumbed, begging him to awake, crying at him they would get their revenge, but to no avail for Aldar, the open eyes of Sambuu were wide, they were lost in afar.

Tuyana was the only one, baring the words in her coldest looks, making her silent moves, placing her hand on his brother’s shoulder. She was the only one to reach Temyulen and Ariq Khan, thus she embraced the two altogether. She was squeezing her own eyes as if she could gouge them, then opening them as if she could awake from the nightmare of the words, yet unfortunate for them the nightmare was the life they lived in, the truth they endured, the real they were surrounded with.

Altana was on the ground, as soon as Temyulen uttered those horrible words, fainted into darkness, closed her eyes as if not to open until the end of the day, succumbed to her agony, she was unable to bare. Her man Khermen was frantic, begging and crying, trying to wake her up, screaming to his shaman for help, yelling at the sky, asking Tengri for mercy, holding his beloved, clueless how to bring her back.

Kublai… Kublai Darqan was cast into ice, by those words he was drowned, but able to come back within the flash. He could not take it any more, for he was angry and raging and in the frenzy. He was holding his head at one moment, then he was running back and forth at the other moment. The silence bloated, the words choked his throat, his legs were never to stop. Then he exploded in his yelling, pointing his finger towards his brother Ariq Khan, shouting at him, cursing at him, furious at him.

Why was he, Friend – what was Kublai Darqan yelling at his brother Ariq Khan?

I remember, I remember all of them, for I heard the words of him, cast as the thunders of Ülgen. “You!... You, my brother!... I warned and told and begged, and you did not listen, my brother! I warned you not to listen those words of The Seeker! I told you not to hurry into those meaningless wars! I begged you to return the ordo to the hearth! You did not listen! We did not hear any words from our dear beloved, our blood, our sisters! Now we hear they are dead, and we did not even hear one word from them, not even how and why! You did nothing! You were in the dark! We were blind! You!... They are dead now, they are taken from us forever! Now we can do nothing! What is your purpose, if you cannot protect your kin? For what are you the khan? You!... You are Ariq, you are my brother, but you are the khan of dead kin, the khan of failure! You are the khan of nothing!”

Friend. I… Friend, these words are unacceptable, despite from a brother, and especially from a brother. How could Ariq Khan, let alone any khan, receive such words and not get angered? What did Ariq Khan do when he was accused by his brother Kublai Darqan?

Yes. Those words were unacceptable, but Ariq was not any khan. Yes, those were the words of his brother Kublai Darqan, but their bond was not of any other but of the strongest, although they were the children of different mothers. Yet the death of their sisters was more than enough for Ariq Khan to fly into a mind that could not be seen by anyone, and the hurtful words of Kublai Darqan were not reaching him, at least not as they were intended, at least not as they were perceived, but they were heard also by everyone.

Temyulen was by then on her knees, trying to scream even after her voice was lost to silent growls, silently howling, holding the leg of her brother, now embraced by her sister Tuyana. The words of their sisters’ death were devastating already, but what Kublai Darqan saying to Ariq Khan was heard by them and the others, causing dismay, spurring despair, creating unrelated anger, as if the words would push Ariq Khan into an ice-cast, a fire-realm, a darkened-nothingness. Every step of Kublai Darqan was closing in towards Ariq Khan, every word of him was thundering with more anger, thus he was held by baghaturs, for they would protect their khan no matter what happens, whoever threatens. They held the approaching brother, growling in his agony, lost in his words but only screaming: “Bilduu! Byorte! Where are you, my sisters? Where are my sisters! Tell me my brother Ariq! The khan of nothing! Tell me where my sisters are!”

Then the baghaturs of Kublai Darqan jolted, they backed their darqan, they supported him against the baghaturs of Ariq Khan. The struggle resumed by the arms of the strong, yet the moment was imminent to draw the sword.

Friend, did they…?

No. The bond between the siblings was not of any other, despite their father, or I should say, in spite of their father. That did not matter any more, for it was The Seeker to tell them, they might be the children of The Warrior of The Red, else The Shaman of The White, but they were all the descendants of The Wolf. Yet the bond was reminded not by these words of The Seeker from many suns in the past, but by the roar of Ariq Khan at that moment.

Friend, what did he… What did Ariq Khan say roaring?

The eyes of Ariq Khan were fixed on an unknown place, to an unknown day, for an unknown mind. He was succumbing deeper to the sight that he was looking at, known to no one but only to him. Every word hurled from his brother Kublai Darqan was as what you said, unacceptable, but for Ariq Khan, it affected different, and no one could predict it. His eyes were lost in that sight, his mind was in the place unbeknownst to no one, his vision was never to be seen by anyone. When the baghaturs acted to hold Kublai Darqan, and his baghaturs acted to protect him, Ariq Khan roared: “Release my brother!”

Did they listen to him, Friend?

You are naïve, Rhomaios. When a khan orders, baghaturs do it. There is no question, for there is no greater honour for them to have. Yet this order was not from a khan, but from Ariq Khan. He was the khan of the Bargas, son of The Warrior, descendant of The Fox and The Owl, he was the blood of The Wolf. Thus did his roar stop all the screams, all the shrieks, all the cries. Temyulen was breathing slowly, still embraced by Tuyana. Sambuu would return from his own ice-cast, even Aldar would be shaken. Altana would wake up from her faint, her man Khermen was holding her in silence. Saran would jump to her feet, still holding the children with her man Degun. Tsymzidma stood up decisively, holding on her man Asalup, still on his knees. Kublai Darqan was released at that moment, leaving him into agonising growls in the silent. The roar of Ariq Khan was of thunder, his eyes were of lightning. He said nothing more, but looked at The Seeker one more. She slowly gathered her voice, and called upon the Shaman of Mongolia.

Thus reached Iturgen Shaman, shrieking through his throat, filling the sky with his chant, silencing the mourning steppes, calling Tengri The Eternal Blue, ordering his disciples to bring the woods, calling for the khöömis, preparing the greatest fire ever seen until that day. The sisters Bilduu and Byorte were taken from them, they were lying in a faraway land, but the cords from their birth were always with the shamans of the hearth, for they are the keepers of tales, they are the healers of minds, and they are the bringers of newborns.

The flames erupted before them on that day in Tunka lands, the smoke covered the sky, from the fire through the smoke the ashes reached Tengri. Iturgen Shaman threw the cords of the sisters, helping them to be one with the fire, leave their remains, rise up to join The Eternal Blue. The flames danced until the deepest night, the khöömis sang until the stars conquered the sky, the Bargas cut their faces for the blood to flow into the flames, they stayed until the dawn arrived. The forty riders would prepare their horses, the forty would trot seven times led by Ariq Khan around the fire, the forty would unite the earth and the sky with their screams, the forty would ride on the remains of the fire until the light of Kün Ana would be chased by the light of Ay Ata. Ariq Khan was riding his horse with the lightnings in his eyes, fixed on an unknown place, to an unknown day, for an unknown mind, but he was riding as if to reach the sky with the rising ashes, as if to touch the sky by the flames, as if to embrace his sisters Bilduu and Byorte, now in The Eternal Blue.

By the light of Kün Ana, the khöömis were joined by the uzans and the kaichis, their sound joined the throats of all, their morin khuurs were joined by the igils, the topshuurs, and the doshpuluurs. The mourning was screamed into songs, the Bargas mourned their sisters, for they could not be with them any more but in The Eternal Blue, they could never see them any more but through The Countless Stars, they were taken from them forever but they hoped the children of their sisters would survive until they could reunite, and only then they could say their farewell. The earth turned blue, the sky turned red, the flames rose with the lament to resound by all.

Only the light of Kün Ana would wake them from their mourning, thus the orders were given. In the light of the day, the forty would ride into the black, carrying the remains of the fire, with the earth under the sky, back into the grounds near Baikal, to bury them in Buryat lands, but the ordo with Ariq Khan would return to the hearth in Borchigin lands, save for the forty riders.

Friend, if the ordo of Ariq Khan returned to the hearth after the funeral, what did the other Bargas do?

They rode with him to gather again but in the hearth.

Who, Friend, which sibling of Ariq Khan did ride with him back to the hearth?

All of them.

Note on the link the lament to resound by all: Huun Huur Tu - Orphan's Lament - from the album with the same name - 1994; newer recording also in 2008

Publishers'-Edit 10.12.2021: Corrected major publication mistakes.

filcat · Aug 16, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - VIII

Never to Cease

All of them, Friend? But why?

All of them rode with him, returning to Borchigin lands. It was the khanate of the Bargas, for Ariq son of The Warrior was the khan, and he was not affected when the words of his brother Kublai Darqan were resounded, as every other sibling dreaded, yet those words were said, thus it was certain, by whomever they were said. There had to be a kurultai for the words, if not war by the arrows and the blades.

I understand, it must have been very difficult times, Friend. After such losses, the surviving family turning on each other; was this what happened to the Bargas, Friend, by forcing a kurultai?

Difficult times. Such words are meaningless, for I will never understand their intention when they are uttered. Irrelevant thoughts of the empty-minds, futile attempts of the ill-knowings, worthless sayings of the unable-beings. Every day is difficult, if one looks at the life itself, but with every rise of the sun is brought another day, ending the former. Those in the blind would curse on the day they live in, yearning for their days of the youth as if they were pure golden, yet the coming days are always forgotten. I would expect better from a mind as yours, Rhomaios.

I understand, Friend, but it is hard to follow your steps, for your experience is vastly immense compared to my short life, and as your words are now diving into hurtful judgements, I would also expect better from a mind as yours, to show me the wisdom of yours.

…

Friend, I may have the words of an irrelevant thought, talking in a futile attempt, failing due to my unable-being, but I would still assume it must have been very difficult for anyone surviving their losses, while accusing each other. For the Bargas, for the siblings, for Ariq Khan, after their meeting in Tunka, those must have been the most difficult days of their lives, riding in agony, only to reach their lands but to clash with their words. I speak true as my mind, Friend, but you are smiling with your piercing eyes looking at me. Is this the limit of your patience?

No.

Friend?

I know you, Rhomaios.

Friend, I assure you, for my intention is truly –

No, you do not need to further elaborate your intention. Amazing. I am amazed by the words of your inquiry, that is the only explanation for my hesitation. You are right, as you would say Rhomaios. I am in the joy to smile, but for it is truly the greatest decision I have ever made, choosing you to deliver the words of mine for the coming ages. You are right Rhomaios, and I shall keep my promise to bestow my patience at your service. However pointless and ambiguous it is to declare days as difficult times, however I despise such sentiments, however I condemn your words be it truly else unfairly, for those days after the funeral it was the extreme weight of a burden one could barely carry.

Then Friend, I shall continue to ask, for my thirst for your tales is endless, thus I am still and more curious.

On the contrary to what you would assume, they reached the hearth faster than their ordo of riders, for it was of utmost importance, to clash with the words to decide upon at the kurultai. For your question though, the answer is bright as the snow on the steppes in winter. Those were the most difficult days and nights, that return was, for I remember, I remember all of them.

What do you remember, Friend, of those days and nights?

Phongma would stay and ride by the side of Ariq by the lights of the days, for it was her decision to support her man, to show him strong, to declare him defiant, but in the shadows of the nights they would remain silent. I remember the smile of Ariq, whenever his children would climb to his lap, playing with their father, asking for the reason of the light from the candles, else the source of fire in the hearth, smiling and laughing with him to share their joy, for they were in the young. Ariq Khan would only smile back, but he was without any words. His eyes were still flashing in the lightnings even while smiling, I remember, I remember those lightnings in the eyes of Ariq Khan, I remember the silence of Phongma Khanum.

Children are quick to live the pain, leaving the sorrow within the day, Friend, for they are in the young. I understand.

No, not all of them are as you say, Rhomaios. You must have forgotten the younger days of yours, else you never had such young days, and I would further question you, if you ever had any children of yours.

No, Friend. No, I was not blessed with such happiness.

I have lost my patience again, yes, now I notice it. I will not ask for forgiveness though, for the cruelty I have just caused on you, I must remain responsible without escaping by words, begging for mercy.

Friend, that is far greater than an apology I can expect as my humble being before your presence, and I am truly in awe of your wisdom despite the pain caused by your question.

Do not indulge such words again, Rhomaios. Ask in your mind, and I will tell all I remember, for I have to tell all of them for all to remember.

As you wish, Friend. I wish to know the reason behind the silence of the nights in the yurt of Ariq and Phongma, while they were returning after the funeral.

The return would take three days and nights for the Bargas, with the ordo of the riders behind but slower than them. They were in the Mongolian steppes, travelling safe with no one to challenge them, but they were carrying their losses in their minds after the funeral. Phongma Khanum would remain silent towards Ariq Khan for two nights, but only to speak on the third night. Her look was iron, her words were sharp, but her voice was mild, for she would consider the innocent sleep of their children, as if to protect them from the crashing lightnings in the rain.

“Ariq, you are the khan of the Bargas, you are Ariq Khan of Mongolia, and this is true by the blessing of Tengri, for you are the son of The Warrior, The Fox, The Owl, your ancestor is The Wolf. If you do not see it, so be it, then follow your path however the kurultai decides. If you do accept it, then fight for it, for it is your right. Do not remain in the silence as such since the funeral. It is your right to lead, it is your right to decide, and it is your right to listen to whomever you deem worthy. Do not forget, however, for I live in my right, and I will protect my children by the blessings of Umay, by the power of Ülgen, by the will of Tengri.

“But listen to my words, Ariq: I did not leave you, for I will never abandon your side, even when you chose other women by your right, for Pekşen is your woman since two suns by now. Your children by her do belong to our hearth too. I did not leave you, for I will never abandon your side, even when you battled for more than ten suns by now, for it is your rule to decide whom to fight. Your conquests by those wars do belong to your people too.

"I did not leave you, for I will never abandon your side, even when we heard those horrible words from the red, when we learnt the demise of Bilduu and Byorte, when you said nothing, but secluded your mind out of pain. Your losses do belong to me, to your children, as well as every other Barga too.

“And listen to my words, Ariq: I did not leave you, for I will never abandon your side, even as I do not need you, but my love is eternal for you. For two days, I have watched your silence, for I understand you, but your children do not know you as I do. I watched your smile for them, for your joyous calm I am grateful, yet I saw the shining in your eyes, from that mind everyone is forsaken but I. I know you Ariq, you are my man but belong to no one else, and I shall remind you, should you have forgotten, you are not as your father.”

That word was enough to bring back Ariq Khan from the unknown place he was looking at, from the unknown day he was living in, from the unknown mind he was thinking of since the scream of Temyulen. Ariq Khan was awaken, and he was waiting for the hesitation of her, after she saw how her words affected him, but she was Phongma Khanum of Mongolia, and she was never to fear, even of Ariq, let alone a Barga.

“You are not your father, Ariq, but however you decide, however the kurultai ends, however the path is chosen by you to follow, do not ever think that you can be your father, for I heard of him, of his rage, of the fear of him. Do not ever think that you can turn into your father, and you can do to your children as your father did to his: To raise them in his beastly rage, to shape them in absolute fear of him. Do not ever think that you can do anything to your children for your path, for I am Phongma, and I will protect them from whomever threatening their life, their happiness, their coming days. Do not ever forget, they are my children. Mine!”

Her words were uttered in a mild sound, they were spoken through an iron look, they were piercing ears as sharp arrows. Ariq Khan was looking at Phongma the Bear, for he awoke from the deepest sleep, the gloom-cast by the loss one could say, but it was more than such spells, known to no one. He gathered all his vigour to speak, for it was his first since days. His words were uttered in a gentle sound, they were spoken through a lightning look, they were blasting ears as shrieking arrows.

“Phongma. You are my khan, and this is true by the blessing of Tengri, by the blessings of the sun and the moon. However I follow my path, however the kurultai decides, it is your right to forge your path, it is your right to decide, it is your right to listen to whomever you deem worthy. I know this, for your words follow the teachings of The Seeker. I do not oppose them.

“Phongma. It is your right to lead the children, for they are your children, but do not ever forget: They are our children, and no one can dare to say I would do anything to harm them, and no one can even claim I would raise them in almost Erlik-wise villainy as my father raised his children; I and my siblings. No one! Not even you!”

They looked at each other for the longest while in the eyes of a child, for their love was incomprehensible to those in the young. I remember, I remember that look, but it always ended in the warmest embrace of minds. That time it ended in the passion of hesitation, slowly closing to each other, falling in the arms of each other, culminating in the kisses forging them into one, their night ended in the lust for each other, but to heal their wounds before the troubles they expected to happen.

Friend, this is a sincere tale warming the heart, but I am not sure if you truly want these words to be delivered for the coming ages, for they are telling the intimacy sacred for Ariq Khan and Phongma Khanum.

Silence. Every sound of every word of every tale I tell, they are of the truth, and it is necessary to know them, to show the results of them, however they are to be interpreted, for that is the responsibility of those who listen to them. Ask in your mind, for I will tell you only the truth.

As you wish, Friend. Did Ariq Khan hold his promise to Phongma Khanum, was he true to his words?

…

Friend?

I know you, Rhomaios, and I know what you are trying to learn but in the shortest possible way, for you are still thinking the rain is the only reason for the leaves to get wet. Unfortunate for you, the tale of the khan is longer than you can expect. Yes. He was true to his words, Ariq Khan held his promise to Phongma Khanum, he obeyed her ruling, the children would be raised not by the fury of the past, but by the love of their parents, by the kindness for their kin, by the teachings of The Seeker.

Friend, did the children of Ariq Khan – were they –

Enough. I know you, Rhomaios, and what you would ask, had I not stopped you. That would be another tale… but the children always surprise their parents, for it is Tengri creates the world of one, for it is the parents shape their children, for it is the nature bestows the fortune else curses, yet the children forge their own paths to follow.

I understand, Friend, I will not try your patience any more on that matter, but I shall ask you about the kurultai, for it was the trouble you told of the Bargas would face when they returned.

It was the second kurultai ever to assemble during a reign, thus it was shocking for most of all. It was the first kurultai ever to assemble but only with the siblings of a khan, thus it was troubling for all. Yet it was the shortest kurultai, and it would not be the last one for the reign of Ariq Khan.

How could it happen, Friend? A kurultai of the khanate for the second time while a khan is still ruling, and yet during the reign of Ariq Khan, to be also the shortest, and not the last one?

The reasons to give would be repeating what I have told you so far, for the boulder does not fall just by a kick, for the barley is not shaken by only a wind, for the leaves do not get wet by only rains. Those are the tales we know of, we see, we hear, we taste, we smell, we feel, but many more may be there before our eyes, ears, tongue, nose, and hands, but we have not yet discovered. Yet the days we reduce to a single moment, we sum the tales only to reach a single point, for it is the serenity we seek when we face the giant of life itself, to overcome the burden of the incomprehensible, thus to swim in the sea of the simplicity. Sharper mind than the most you have, but still desiring the simplest words for the questions you have. So be it. I shall provide my patience for you, I shall name the kurultai for you, for it was the first one to divine the coming days, to spark the coming suns, to call for another but the great one, and to rise the…

To rise what, Friend? What did it give way to rise?

The wind. To rise the wind over the ashes, to hurl the boulders and to shake the grass and to bring the rains, to ride the wind to become the storm. All shall kneel before, the storm never to cease.

Note on the link to ride the wind to become the storm: Godspeed You! Black Emperor - The Sad Mafioso... - from the album F♯ A♯ ∞ - 1998

Publishers'-Edit 28.06.2024: Fixed the broken link. Corrected major publication mistakes. Corrected the image locations.

filcat · Oct 2, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - IX

Kurultai of the Wind

Of the kurultai the wind rose from, Friend, I heard the name in the lands I travelled.

I know you, Rhomaios. You heard about it, you speak true as you ask to confirm it. You are here for it, however you wished for it to be a hopeful tale for you and your people. You still have the futile hope of it be the favourable as opposed to what you dread.

Friend?

I have told you countless times by now. I know who you are, Rhomaios. You do not want to face the truth of yours, of the mirror you avoid your being, for the words you want to hunt you keep your mind hidden, only to trust in the ambivalent nature of my patience, but I have told you, I already know it.

Friend, your words are crushing the sanctuary I have been bestowed as I am before you, for now I must beg you to stop further accusing me of the past that I left in the life I abandoned. I have told you that my soul is salvaged through the path of the All-Mighty, even though you may not accept it.

Your guilt is not the old days of yours, that you wish it to be cleansed of your existence, Rhomaios. Your guilt is not the salvation that you dare to speak of, and I tell the futility of embracing such a path achieved not by yourself but bestowed by the others. You have it, so be it. Your guilt is not even the conflicting nature of your convictions, seeing your God to create you as you are, but you run towards the light in order to free yourself, while arguing and disagreeing what I say, the ability of us mortals to change our path by ourselves.

Friend! I am free of my guilt! I suffered the punishment for it, and All-Merciful God heard my plea!

Your guilt is not the deliverance you achieved after your confession, Rhomaios. I do not accuse you of the path you took, to free yourself from the guilt you had, to live the day without the burden of the remorse, to see the coming days in the company of the serenity.

Friend! I have been asking and hearing and speaking for your words to carry them for the coming days, as you wish! There is no need to repeat what I had done, my burdens do not belong in your tales! I beg for mercy! You do not know who I am!

On the contrary, Rhomaios, it is the guilt of false admission to this, it is the guilt of yours to even think you could persuade me that you are no one in the tales of others. I know how you heard about Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak, for you wanted to learn the sacred mountains she ruled upon. I know how you heard about The Seeker, for you wanted to learn The Shaman of the White, thus you found out about her son Kublai Darqan. I know how you heard about Phongma the Bear, for you heard about the blessing of others for the wind becoming the storm, thus you learnt the legacy of the storm never to cease. You may be no one, you may claim living only to hear the tales, but you know who you are looking for, and you are afraid to find another one. You wished for a hopeful tale, that is true, a tale of hope to fulfil more than what you would provide, to seek an answer for the inevitable storm from the plains of the unknown that your people dread, but you kept the shadow-cast to conceal yourself in the words you have chosen to ask, to define your being, to redeem your suffering, as if you could persuade me to trust them. I know you, Rhomaios.

Friend!

You were already living by the words of others, to hear them before the others, to carry them for others, that are your masters, whoever they would be. Then your deeds did not satisfy them, and you were tasked with another, you thought you could face with its consequences, but your mind failed under its weight.

Friend!

You murdered one, Rhomaios. You took the life of one, on the orders of your masters, you ended the life of one, before minding what that would bring upon you. So were you in remorse, eternally damning yourself without seeing the light ever again. So began your path of salvation, as you said in your words. The priests you sought refuge, they provided your redemption, however you want to believe in, so be it. Thus were you tasked at the end of it, to hear the words of the lands beyond your realms, to see the realms of us, the barbarians riding their horses as your people see us, to learn the tales of the khans they have been receiving from the blue. A spy on the run, for the light he is searching, seeking the tales of the desperate hopes.

ENOUGH! ENOUGH OF YOUR WORDS! ENOUGH OF YOU ROTTEN CURSED MAN!

…

Friend! I… I apologise, I beg for mercy, I could not hold my tongue, I am at your service until the end of days, please save me from your wrath, I cannot believe my words, I do not know what I am speaking of, please Friend, I am begging you, I am only a foolish servant, no one for you, irrelevant to you, worthless to be before you! Please Friend, I –

No, Rhomaios. You do not need to apologise. Clean up your face, dash away the tears you pour.

Friend? Thank you Friend, I am at your service until the end of days, Friend. I am your humble servant until the Heaven arrives.

You do not need to pledge with such words, Rhomaios. I know the pain I have caused, but it had to be done, as now you should understand the meaning of this.

What, Friend, what is it?

Sharper mind than the most, but modest. Humbled by the burden you carry yourself, despite the salvation you had as you claim. The words I have to speak of, you will listen to, as I count on you. You do not need to hide behind your words, and this is my patience for your lies. I know you, Rhomaios.

Yes Friend, then yes, I was a keeper of the words, conveyor of the hidden thoughts, listener of the unheard whispers. I… Then I did a terrible sin. I assure you, my soul is saved by the mercy of God All-Mighty. This was my penance, as I was travelling your lands to learn the tales of the dreadful khans that we heard about, but I assure you, for I am truly enchanted in these lands as I heard of you and I learnt of your magnificence. When I was captured by your Khishigs, I was certain to meet your sublime presence, to see your benevolence, to receive your patience, so was I brought to your ordo. When you ordered me to listen to your words, I was delighted to be of your service, to carry on this duty but as you wished, to provide my humble skills for your needs. I am not hunting for the tales of wrathful rulers of the steppes, for those are the words the people of my realm are looking, but I am truly honoured to be serving you, keeping the words of your people, to deliver the stories of great khans untold to us for the coming days.

Finally, you speak the truth of your mind, Rhomaios. Even though you do not realise the reason, although you hope for tales of a contender to meet the horrors all your people dread, I will still reward your words. I have been telling those you sought, for whatever purpose you convince yourself, but I am only an ailing old man, but nothing more, waiting to rest in the eternal sky, enduring the days and the nights in pain, although a great khan for my people as you have attempted to address. That is another tale but much later to be told than the one I have been speaking of. Ariq Khan was… He was the greatest. These words shall be delivered to the coming days exactly as I say, as you hear now, and if you wish to learn for more, do ask exactly in this way.

I am eternally grateful for your mercy, Friend. I am at the patience of your great presence, Friend. I apologise for my being, unable to show the respect that your highness deserves, Friend. I shall once again attempt to repeat, as I am truly in awe of your tales, eager to learn more, ready to hear more, for I trust the tale of your people is the hopeful one for the sake of the others. I shall continue as you wish, for I am asking you the kurultai of the wind, for I only heard of it, never knew how it proceeded.

You want to trust in the hope you have, so be it. It was the most worrying for it to ever assemble, and it would not be the last one. Bargas of the Falcon, Bargas of the Dove, and Bargas of the other lines were not there, thus it was shocking. Not even the irgens of other clans, and not even The Elders were there, thus it was troubling. All siblings of the khan were there to speak, together with their children but for them only to listen. It was therefore The Seeker first to speak, for it was the horror of the old she desired to prevent before it would reoccur in their age.

“You the one who was bestowed the kut of Tengri, you the one who rules over the realm, you the one who hears the words of wisdom, son of the khans, Khan of the Bargas, Ariq Khan of Mongolia, I beg you to listen my humble words, for I can only hope you hear my mind. It is the most vile act, it is the most villainous end, it is the most dreadful words we heard of, the demise of your sisters now remains in the old, for we heard them as delivered by Temyulen the Black Tiger, and she heard by that brave rider from the red. I beg you to listen my humble words, for I can only hope you remember the tales I told. The words of the old, they would be forgotten if not told, yet they are living with us, for all I have told. Now that you shall decide what is your right, for you are the true khan, but I beg you to listen my humble words, for I can only hope you do not repeat the mistakes of before, to open the wounds that were healed, to doom the coming days yet again. It is my duty to remind you, should you listen, for this is the age of Ariq Khan, and I can only wish you a glorious reign, but be free of the beast of rage, not be deceived in the bliss of happiness, never remain in the silence of fury, rule without being estranged to your kin.” The reticence followed the words of The Seeker, but before she could continue, it was cut with the words of Ariq Khan, surprising her, shocking everyone.

What did Ariq Khan say, Friend?

“You the one who delivered the tales for us, you the one who knows them of all for every children, every mother and father to remember, you the one to shape the words, to heal the wounds, to restore the happiness for the coming days, for all the people, for all the mothers and fathers, for all the children, The Seeker of the unknown tales. I hear your words, yet I have to say that is not the trouble we face on this day Kün Ana provided us.”

His words were ever to match whomever he would speak, for he was Ariq Khan, and his was the sharpest mind, of the silver-tongue, of the golden words. This was already apparent since his youth, and yet it was still astonishing for the ones that heard him on that day, for it was the first time Ariq Khan interfered while The Seeker was talking, for it was the first time he would take the wind risen from her, but to ride it himself alone. At that moment, Ariq Khan was the one the Bargas were listening to, regardless they were the followers of The Seeker’s teachings, else despising even her being.

How did Ariq Khan continue after that, Friend?

He stood up after those words, not even a whisper was heard, I remember, I remember the fear of the unknowing endured by all on that day. He decisively walked towards his brother Kublai Darqan, and he drew his sword. The baghaturs afar gasped, the Four Khishigs froze, unable to move, hesitating to act, drowned in the unknown what they should do.

Friend, did they – did Ariq Khan – Friend, what did –

…

Friend, your eyes – your look is frightening, I feel the ache deep in my soul.

And that was the look as Ariq Khan had for all, telling them with his eyes to stand still, for it was the matter between the khan and the irgen. He then turned his eyes towards his brother, their eyes met in the clash of thunderous looks, thus it became the matter between the two brothers, they were at that moment only Ariq and Kublai, just as they were in their young. Ariq threw his sword before the feet of Kublai however, the blade hit the ground, the siblings shrieked silently, the birds flew into the sky. He spoke with the words freezing the light of the day: “We heard the scream of Temyulen, we suffered the demise of our sisters Bilduu and Byorte, but all heard your words of the anger. Take the sword, if I am the khan of dead kin, rise up Kublai, if I am the khan of failure, say again if I am the khan of nothing.”

Kublai was in the ice-cast by then, his look at Ariq was darkened, his mind was paralysed, but he slowly gained his ezens for his mind, yet he was still hesitating. Then came the roar of Ariq: “Take the sword! Rise and say again if I am the khan of nothing!” Kublai took the sword, jumped to his feet, pointed at Ariq.

What did Kublai do, Friend? What did he decide to do?

He stopped. The sword was touching Ariq, but it was not moving. Kublai was looking at Ariq in the eyes, but he was not moving. I remember, I remember the fear of the uncertain heartbeats endured by all on that day. Yet the arm started to shake lightly, then the sword was lowered slowly, then the blade fell on the ground abruptly.

Friend, I must say it is inconceivable to my knowledge, a subject be it kin, let a sibling, otherwise not bound by blood, to challenge its ruler without severe punishment. As in the tale you speak of now, it is incredible for me to even think of drawing a blade. Did Ariq Khan forgive his brother, Friend?

To your knowledge, yes, a severe punishment. But for us, drawing the blade to challenge a khan means certain death, from whomever it comes. Yet it was not any other kurultai, neither it was any other challenge, nor it was any khan. Ariq took one step towards Kublai, he embraced his brother, for Kublai was violently shaking by then. The words of Ariq resounded again in the steppes on that day: “You heard on that day the death of our two sisters but many suns now in the old, Kublai. We suffer together, for they were our sisters, our beloved, our blood, but I am not going to be the khan losing also a brother on this day.”

Then followed the silent tears of Kublai, for it was the first he let them free, since the demise of their sisters heard by them. Kublai conceded, but it was to be decided, should Ariq be the khan of all.

Truly the bond between the siblings was victorious on that day, Friend.

You may think as such, but I will never understand why Kublai hesitated on that day, why he stopped to drive the sword, why he conceded from the clash, for it was still his right, as a khan was challenged at a kurultai. Alas, I never had the chance to ask the truth of Kublai’s mind, and I will never know the reason behind. But of the khan… Much later I understood what the khan did achieve. It was not any other kurultai, neither it was any other challenge, nor it was any khan. His name was Ariq Khan, and after he released his arms, the khan turned his eyes away from his brother towards his siblings, his family, his children.

Phongma Khanum was holding the children together with Pekşen of the Kutays, but one hand was at her dagger, only to unclench when Ariq Khan looked back. Tuyana was the only sibling to stand up when the sword was first drawn, and she did not stop her threatening looks until it hit the ground once again. Tuyana the Moon Sable was on her path of the shadows, for she would act upon any madness had Kublai Darqan attempted, but she was still aware of her sister Temyulen, as she was waiting for her to move, as she was the only one who could take her attention upon, as she was in the hate of her, and only her, even on such a day. Temyulen the Black Tiger was silent, ready to utter the words, holding the order for her baghaturs to act, but only to stop her sister, had she moved one more step.

The impending rage of the moment was cut with the shriek however, for it was Altana to ascertain the decision, seeing her sisters and brothers. “Stop now! Halt your acts! We are in the presence of son of the khans, Khan of the Bargas, Ariq Khan of Mongolia!”

I understand, Friend. The kurultai after the tragedy brought the troubles in the minds altogether. The bond was strong, but tested under heavy circumstances. But they did listen to the call, did they not, Friend?

Altana the Silent Seal shrieked to announce the decision, for it was the embracing brothers after the fall of the sword. Saran the Restless Heron agreed by shaking her head, Sambuu and Aldar confirmed by holding each other’s shoulders. Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak accepted by releasing her breath. Tuyana the Moon Sable was in the shadows, and Temyulen the Black Tiger was ever eager to shed blood by taking the order to bring her down, no matter what the tradition forbids. Ariq Khan, on other hand, was still looking towards his siblings, his family, his children, in silence, and only to speak after knowing their stance, only to bewilder them yet again, only to break the sky into winds. Your words are true, but what Ariq Khan did was entirely different as you understand.

What was it, Friend? How did he break the silence of the kurultai?

It was the unknown of his mind, seeking the unknown place, longing for an unknown day. He realised who would be with him, had it dared to be the question, despite the shriek of Altana. He spoke ominously, his words were confusing, his eyes were in the deepest sky: “I am the khan of the Bargas, but after those words were said, after that sword was drawn, I am the khan of the dead kin. Our sisters are in the eternal sky, and I could not save them. The words of my brother are true, and how could I be Ariq Khan of Mongolia, if I cannot reach my siblings when they need, if I cannot save my irgens when they need help, if I cannot bring the justice when the others commit such villainy?”

Friend? Did he not assert his reign? What did his siblings say upon his words?

The Seeker spoke before everyone else, for hers was the greatest fear, as the words of Ariq Khan indicated one path, and the most dreaded one it was. The justice to meet the crime, the vengeance to satisfy the rage, the violence she tirelessly endeavoured to avoid, it was the blue sun and the white doom, it was to bring the forever-night upon people innocent of the crime, and hers was the vow to prevent it happening ever again. Hers was the most innocent intention, the most noble purpose, the most respectful position. She could not predict what it would cause, for it was the khanate of the Bargas, and he was Ariq Khan.

Friend?

From hesitating sound to assertive presence, The Seeker spoke: “Noble Khan, blood of The Wolf, hear my words! If the path you seek is of vengeance, but not justice, if it is for the ones who are innocent of this crime, but not for the villains, then it is the path of destruction, the end of your mind, the damnation of the sky for the Bargas! Wise Khan, hear my words! Your father was the one to disrespect the tales, to forsake them from everyone, to cleanse them without mercy, thus it is the pain now we live in! Fair Khan, hear my words! Know the truth of your old days! Bring the virtue to the coming days! Be the khan greater than your blood!”

These words are the grace of nobility, the wisdom of mercy, the honour of fairness, Friend. How could these words cause an ominous path that you claim?

Every word of The Seeker were as you said, Rhomaios, I agree. I remember, I remember the serenity of hearing them, as if it was yesterday. But it was Ariq Khan they were addressed, and he was already determined what to say, for he was certain to hear them. He agreed upon those words, but not as you would expect: “That is the trouble we have, The Seeker of the unknown tales, since the beginning. I seek your guidance, I hear your words, and I accept the path of your wisdom shows us, but the trouble is to hear the tales. I agree that if I ride to the red as my father did, I would not satisfy our hunger for the justice, but only to fool ourselves with the blood for vengeance to the coming days.”

Those were his words, and Ariq Khan was speaking as his look was in dismay, but that was his wish for that unknown mind. Sambuu jumped to his feet, but the screaming words of Aldar would best his speed: “No! We will ride to the deepest red, we will raid until the sky falls upon the earth, we will teach those whoever envied our beloved, even those who know the ones taking our blood from us, and we will not ride back until their sun turns blue never to shine again!”

Terrifyingly malignant words, Friend, what Aldar Noyan said.

He was indeed Aldar the Tempest, yet only in the words during the kurultai, but I have to tell you, as those were nothing when you would know what their father would do. I have to add it, for he would never give away his rage in the words, but he would rather execute it, in the ever beastlier way possible. The Seeker would feel fortunate, for it was the age of Ariq Khan, and the father of the siblings was no more.

Was she right, Friend? Did it end as she would hope for?

No.

But Friend – ?

I have told you countless times, Rhomaios. He was Ariq Khan, and not any other one. He agreed with The Seeker as opposed to what Aldar Noyan screamed, and it was exactly abiding his mind, to reach the place known only to him, to seize the day known only by him. “Aldar my brother, calm your words, for you are chasing the path of the days in the old, and they failed over us just as The Seeker prophesied. She foresaw the vengeance by the raid, however we would succeed, no matter how many tümens we would ride with, and as she warned now we suffer the consequences. What we will achieve, when we cast the forever-night upon those lands again, it will not satisfy the justice, nor it will bring back our beloved back to us from the eternal sky.”

This was the path of Ariq Khan, and its response was just as he expected. It came from Kublai Darqan, in wrath after his tears: “Now you want to tame your riders, only after those wars we dived in since you were declared the khan! You are still following the words of The Seeker! She is nothing to you! If you are the khan, bring the justice for our sisters!”

Ariq Khan was calmer, for his eyes were not in the deepest sky but narrowed, nor his words were confusing but simple, not even he spoke ominous any more but brief: “I will not ride anywhere to bring a false justice, only to return back, leaving all the turmoil for the coming days to face them again, Kublai my brother.” Thus rose the wind, silenced were all, and no one was able to stop him.

How, Friend? How did Ariq Khan rise over his lands as the wind, without anyone to prevent?

His words were pouring as hails, convincing every faction in the kurultai, thus was his wind unstoppable: “It is pointless to battle our enemies, whoever they are, only to return as they are left still reigning over their realms. We will still be ruling Mongolia, but we will not be able to reach our irgens when they are so faraway, in need of our help. But I will ride, Kublai my brother, I will ride with the tümen I inherited, for I have to show who I am, instead of only claiming who I am. The kurultai twelve suns before chose me the khan, but now I am the khan with two sisters in the eternal sky, for you contested it as I would be the khan of nothing. This kurultai shows it is uncertain if I am the khan, but wishes for it. I say no, if we do not even know who took the lives of our sisters, if we cannot decide upon how to bring the justice for them, if we cannot send even one rider to deliver words when our örtöös are in danger, even within our realm. Riding to red to face the unknown enemies is foolish, and it will bring the white doom upon us, not them, for The Seeker warned us, and her words are of the truth.

“But I will ride, Kublai my brother, but not into the red for the nameless enemies, but into the blue, for they are the Yelü clan of Khitan, and the Song clan of Han, and I will be sending my riders as I establish örtöös from Karakorum to Nanjing. I will show that, as The Seeker pleas, our tales can travel from the farthest lands back to the hearth in Borchigin lands, without casting the forever-night, but by bringing the serene-peace. I will ride not to rage over lands, but to bring their tales back to our ordo. I will ride to bind the tales, of ours and of others, with only one tümen by the share of my inheritance. The rest is yours until I arrive, for you are the Darqan of the Bargas. If you think you can rule in my stead, without breaking the sacred kurultai of the line, so beware, ride wise, and rule fair, for you are still weak in this kurultai of us, Bargas of The Wolf.

“And you will not rule alone, Kublai my brother, for you will have my ordo, and the support of our siblings. I declare hereby, Tsymzidma our sister will hold the sacred mountains of Tavan Bogd; Aldar and Sambuu will hold the passes of Altais to the white. Altana will hold our ancestral lands to the black; Saran will protect our children, the reason we live for. Temyulen will reign over the Borchigin hearth, and Tuyana will bring the words of the enemies we have to face, to bring the justice sparing the innocents. I will ride, Kublai my brother, as I send my riders by the safe örtöös from the sea to the sea. When I return, I will see you, and we will assemble the kurultai once again, but for everyone to decide upon who I am.”

What did Ariq Khan mean by everyone, Friend? How did Kublai Darqan respond to his khan’s decree?

His look was the coldest, but ready of the moment. He knelt before his khan, as the tradition of kurultai demanded, but his was the question that was bothering: “Ariq my brother, now that you entrust the lands, the ordo, the hearth to my being, then I have to accept, for your words are sharper than the arrow. I will respect your rule, but I will rule while you are faraway. I will protect your ordo, and Phongma Khanum along with your children will be safe. I have to ask, in that case, what The Seeker will do, as I do not respect her, nor I need any of her teachings.” It was the moment of the wind. Kublai Darqan could not predict it, The Seeker could not anticipate it, no one could. No one. You ask for who everyone is. It was in the reply of Ariq Khan to his brother’s question.

What was the reply of Ariq Khan, Friend?

…

Friend?

His reply was the soaring wind: “You cannot protect Phongma, for she does not need it, for it is her wish to ride as she deems, and no one can dare to question her. But The Seeker will ride, for that is her duty since the days of our father. You will not oppose her, however you despise her. The Seeker will ride to all corners of our realm, for this is her wish, but for this time, she will bring the tale of this kurultai, and she will call upon everyone to bring their tales with them, to meet when I return from the blue. Every darqan and noyan will hear this call, to bring the tales and bind them together, thus everyone will decide, if they want to relive their tales until they are conquered by their enemies, else they want their children, and their children to hear them, without fearing their enemies, but riding in the peace to last for ages, until the end of days. The peace of ours. The peace of uls, bound by the tales, against the enemies who want to unleash the fire upon all tales.”

Did The Seeker accept this duty from Ariq Khan, Friend?

You still have the hope. Unfortunate for you, for the others, and for everyone, she gladly accepted it, unknowing its consequences. Yes, she accepted the mind of Ariq Khan with gratitude. Thus the rising wind soared, and Ariq Khan rode the wind. Unfortunate for you, Rhomaios, you are still unaware of the wind.

Wh – What was it, Friend? What is the wind you are speaking of, Friend?

Mongols.

Note on the link Mongols: Khusugtun - Mongol - from the album Khusugtun - 2009

Publishers'-Edit: 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Oct 19, 2021

[The parts between IX and X are missing according to the sources I could salvage. The tales of Ariq Khan of the Bargas, along with his wars against the Song dynasty of the Han, and the Liao dynasty of the Khitan are lost in these accounts. – The Author]

Publisher's Note: The note, added by The Author, is the only one found for the volumes of Book II. It indicates historical account of the sources, but they are not disclosed in any part of the tome. The tome does not include any illustrations regarding the Song and the Liao, but they are mentioned only within the text as Ariq Khan conquered these dynasties between the two kurultais.

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - X

The Khagan

Friend, I heard of it, for your officers from the Han lands treated me well, but they did not disclose the realms they came from, nor the kingdoms you spoke of.

Yes, Rhomaios, but you heard them. The words you received were ours to resound, for their tales became ours, for it was the mind of the true khan, for he rode the storm until reaching the sea in the deepest blue.

But Friend, you spoke of the storm as if it was the fire raining on the lands, yet you say it now, for I know it from before, for their tales remained. This was the promise of Ariq Khan, so you told. I see the greatness in this story, and –

No, Rhomaios. The demise of the Khitan, and the fall of Nanjing marked their ends.

But… how, Friend? How could this be possible?

Because, Rhomaios, you follow the words, they were created in the minds of the rulers, and these are from one of them. The end of the realms in the blue of the steppes is in the words I have told you, despite the life the tales are breathing in them. Ariq Khan rode the storm, all the while sending his words through the örtöös he established from the bluest rich sea to the sea in the deepest blue. His riders were feared, his rule was asserted, his words travelled from one sea to another, thus the tales from the Han and the Khitan realms were heard in the ordo of the Borchigin lands. Kublai Darqan ruled the khanate, all the while struggling to keep the Mongol realm in the name of his khan, for his rule was fair, but it did not satisfy anyone, nor could he bring the justice he promised. This was the exact mind of Ariq Khan, to ride away from his ordo, to leave the khanate to his brother, to show what he could and not do when he would reign, to once again ascertain his own mind to be yearned, to be wished, to be longed. The mind of Ariq Khan was in the farthest and in the highest and in the widest, whereas Kublai Darqan failed all his promises under the rule he wanted, but the turmoil it was he inherited.

What did the other Bargas do, Friend? Did they abide and support the rule of Kublai Darqan, else did they follow their khan, for his brother failed?

They supported Kublai, in the eyes of others. They did not, however, in their own minds, for they had already bent their knees, for they had heard and agreed to the mind of Ariq Khan, once in the kurultai of the wind, they thought they were the masters of their own fates, but it was far late they realised. The storm gathered, and it was ridden until the land ended, reaching the sky, taming the sea. They would not accept it, they would not say a word on it, they would not show any discontent for it, for they chose the reign of Kublai Darqan, else remained back, but they rode as their khan ordered them, for it was far late when they realised.

Friend, I cannot accept such a conclusion from the kurultai you spoke of. It was the decision Ariq Khan declined, for he ordered his siblings what to do before leaving, yet he chose Kublai Darqan, for his brother wanted the justice for their sisters. If Ariq Khan had another mind, how could his siblings not realise it?

You follow the words, Rhomaios, without looking at the consequences, seeing the obvious as the only end, not understanding the true mind. It must be the hope you desperately have. Even the sharper minds than the most do this, now I have to admit, for I am in the end days of my life, I cannot escape it any more. I am tired of questioning it. Yes, he declined to rule even though it was his right, yet he chose Kublai, not the mourning Temyulen, not the distant Tsymzidma, and certainly not the restless Aldar. This was the mind of Ariq Khan, for he foresaw it. The need for justice would turn into revenge without any mercy, however he would rule against it. The need for healing would turn into uprising without any compromise, however he would want it. Besides the possibilities of the sides in the kurultai, there was the inevitable failure of the both to reach. He left the ordo to Kublai Darqan, for he would do as he deemed. He ordered The Seeker to ride away, for she would do as she deemed. Kublai would fail, for not the screams of Temyulen, nor the plans of Tsymzidma, not even the boldness of Aldar could change it. Ariq Khan knew it, for one cannot fight against the unknown, without exhausting self. The Seeker would never yield, for not the anger of Kublai for her, nor the disdain of Aldar for her, not even the loss of trust for her could change it. Thus caught them the words with every rider Ariq Khan sent from the Han realms. Every battle he fought, every victory he had, he was able to tell them from the faraway lands. It was… conquest, for he appointed noyans and darqans to all those lands as he rode the storm, for it was his promise to keep their tales, but only to become ours.

The promise of Ariq Khan was held true, it soared as the storms of victory, whereas the promise of Kublai Darqan failed, it sailed as the empty clouds of summers in the sky. However, Rhomaios, your words are still carrying the wisdom of a sharp mind. It is true, not all the siblings were in the mist of the unknown when facing against the broken promises, against the unstoppable ambition, for one of them was in the true loyalty for Ariq Khan. The most unexpected, and changing the nature of the storm.

Who was it, Friend?

Among the Barga siblings, Altana brought the words of the wind to the mountains of Barga, thus obeyed they the rule of the kurultai, instead of rebelling. Aldar and Sambuu rode their horses from one pass to another in the Altais of the white, thus bowed the steppes before the Bargas, yet they were trying the Altais of the red, to pass for another raid, the greatest no one had ever seen, but failing to gather even one mingghan of riders to follow them. Tsymzidma would protect the sacred mountain, yet she made her decision to be away from the steppes, to devise the revenge who deserved, but failing to find even one name to punish. Temyulen would rule the Borchigin lands, but her ezens would leave her by the day after the loss. Saran would care for her sister, but Phongma would rule the ordo, for she would care for her children be it during the soothing peace, else while the unforgiving wars, and the stars of those nights were the brightest, one could not notice the wolves when they gathered.

But for your question, Rhomaios… Of the siblings with the Barga name, the most confusing loyalty came from Tuyana, for she was The Moon Sable, for she was the rebellious, for she was the outcast. Yet she provided the most inspiring loyalty, for her mind was in the doom of ezens, for her furore was never-ending towards her sister Temyulen, for she was in the grudge for her brother Kublai, thus hers was the uttermost surprising.

This is beyond my perception, Friend, for Tuyana to behave as such so you say, and I am questioning her act. Why would she be ungrateful for Kublai Darqan, for his was the only ordo among the Barga siblings to accept her after the uprising attempt?

Your curiosity is just, Rhomaios, for it is the sudden change amazes the most, yet it was the growing sentiment in the mind of Tuyana, for I was able to learn. I remember, I remember all words she spoke, for she was the honest when asked for the true questions. Her mind was filled with ezens of the sour, for she took her chance against the odds, yet she was beaten before even have time to think. Her hatred for Temyulen exhausted her mind, her mind against the rule of Ariq Khan was weak, her weakness caused her exile in the lands of Kublai Darqan. She was in the anger, but more for Kublai than Ariq. The Khan of Mongolia had bested her in the never-fought war for the reign, but the Darqan of Dauria showed her the pity, for she was the banished, despite forgiven by Ariq Khan, thus fled she to the ancestral lands, but only to be accepted as an exile by Kublai Darqan. Her thundering mind was not against Ariq Khan, but against those despising her, reviling her, deploring her, but for the most vile crime against her in her mind, by not supporting her against Temyulen. This was the choice of Tuyana, thus was she the most loyal to Ariq Khan after the kurultai, and she served for his mind, to unprecedented consequences no one could foresee, not even The Seeker.

Friend, how did she serve Ariq Khan, when he was away in the Han realms?

Tuyana rode to the lands of her brothers, where Aldar and Sambuu were roaming with their riders, to punish those trying to pass the Altais, to gather more riders for their never-be justice, only to find the way to ease their pain. She requested their help to enter the Kirghiz lands, for her mind was the most dedicated, for her deduction was the most truthful, for her vision was the most useful. They rejected her with the harsh words of the indifference, for their mind Tuyana was only a miserable Barga sister. The Moon Sable was cold in her eyes, brief in her words, swift in her mind. She rode in the dark to the red, reaching the sacred mountains of Tavan Bogd, arriving at the ordo of Tsymzidma. She asked for her help to ride into the Kirghiz lands, to find the people to hear the words, to stalk in the dark to find the whispers, to deliver the tales to reach the truth.

Did Tsymzidma help Tuyana in her quest, Friend?

Yes, Rhomaios. In her words of the cold, The Wise Karsak said to her sister: “Tuyana, you are the one hurting the most, for you were the one challenging the rule of our brother first. You are the one harming the most, for you were the one bringing the hatred into our family first. You are the one wounding the most, for you were the one betraying the trust between our sisters and brothers first. You should tell me the reason should I help you, for I suspect your request is in the wrong mind.”

Before she could continue in her accusations, Tuyana cut her breath of anger, replying her even colder than she could ever be. I remember, I remember the ice in her words, for she told me all: “Tsymzidma, you are hurting my mind, you are challenging my being, you are wounding my trust. My troubles with Temyulen should not precede the pain we have. It was my anger for her to drive me into the steppes against the rule of our brother, but it is now in the winds of the old. We are now struggling in the sky of the dark, for our sisters Byorte and Bilduu were killed, for we were helpless to protect them, for we were blind as what happened to them. Do not tell me what I did in the old, for I do know what I did was foolish, for your support was more for Temyulen than for me. She cannot even ride a horse now, she cannot even pull a bow now, she cannot even utter a word now, for she is drowning in her pain, yet you chose her in the days of the old. Ride to Borchigin lands if you do not trust my words, then see her with your own eyes. Now I am here, for I may be the scorned Barga, but I am a Barga, do not ever forget, Byorte and Bilduu were my sisters. No one can change this, not you, not Aldar and Sambuu, not even the pitying looks of Kublai for me, when he accepted my exile in his lands. I need to ride into the white, for I not suspect but know it, for the pain we have was caused by it, for the Kirghiz are responsible for it.”

What was Tuyana looking for, Friend? I do not understand as she persuaded Tsymzidma to help her, but she was already in the bright of the mind what she wanted, so your words tell.

Yes, Rhomaios. Sharp minds, able hearts, brilliant thoughts, all may distinguish once one is defined as such, but this is the view of others for the one, and the opposite of them is also true when it comes to the maddening skill we call perception. This is the futile attempt we pathetic beings have, to brand the others as we do for the cattle, for it is our mind to think what they are, for it is our audacity to see the others before their truth. Tuyana was in the right, for her brilliance was driven by her unpredictable mind, by her hateful heart, by her never-yielding thoughts, despite not being the sharpest. She was in the right, for she realised before everyone. The passes to the red were held, for they were attacking whoever wanted to cross the Altais, else it was the unforgiving Gobi, preventing them to reach Tibet. Kuchuguden Darqan of the Güchügüd would see the demise of any rider trying, for his warriors ambushed them without hesitating. Tuyana was in the right, for she knew Darqan of the Naimans was only a fool, an unable being to devise such a vision, a pitiful darqan to attempt such a villainy, a fearful mind to show such a courage. She knew it, and she had to find the reason behind, thus found out she the Erlik-wise vision of High King Deryab agreed upon in the days before his ascension. The help Tuyana received from Tsymzidma allowed her to lurk, to hear, to see, the rumours and the shadows and the whispers in the Kirghiz realm, thus was she able to deliver them to the true khan.

What did Tuyana learn by lurking, hearing, seeing in the lands of High King Deryab, Friend? What was the evil vision of him?

The truth was in the words she learnt. The words of the old, before the reign of Deryab began, when your Lord was at the age of nine hundred and eighty one. It was Buyana Khanum daughter of Aydin to gather them in the Tuvan lands, to cast the words of Erlik, to curse the lands of Barga, to bring the fire into the Borchigin lands.

Buyana Khanum of Tuva invited Deryab, for she was in the fear of the Bargas. Her words were shivering, calling for the mercy, requesting the benevolence of the Kirghiz: “O mighty Deryab, soon to be King of the Hokhots, soon to be Khagan of the Kirghiz, soon to be the saviour of the steppes! I am grateful for your presence, for you answered my calling, for you are the only khan I would accept! Your right is to rule the steppes, the forests, the mountains, from the white of the Altais to the blue of Baikal! The usurper Bargas stole your lands, thus I demand your return, for it was the Kirghiz we bowed, yet they were driven from these lands in the cold!”

Deryab listened to her, but he was not to wait for the words to realise themselves, for he was in the brash of the moment to make them happen: “Buyana Khanum of Tuva! Your respectful loyalty shall be rewarded, as your true allegiance shows the might of the old ways! The demand shall be fulfiled, thus you should kneel before my right, as I will be the High King of the steppes, the forests, the mountains! Hear my words, my father High King Kuaz is in the old, he is still hesitant to take what is ours, he is embarrassing our blood, and my brother Mosheg is in the oblivion, he is unable to lead for greater days, he is insulting our line, but I will show the might of my ancestors, as I will be the one, the Khagan of the Kirghiz!”

Kuchuguden Darqan was a fool, but not in the bliss of indifference: “O Prince Deryab, be the King of Kings, be the Khan of Khans! Your words are soothing, they are bringing the peace to our minds, for the days of the Kirghiz were the peace for us, but now it is the Bargas of the war. Their irgens raid our lands, their riders ravage our cities, their spawns murder our brethren. I shall bow to your magnificent crown, but I must say these words in great pain: The villainous Bargas usurped your lands, and their khanate is powerful without any ends. How could we bring the swine down, if we are to live under your benevolent rule?”

The question of the Naiman brought the nervous thoughts to the gathering, in the heat of the beginning, for the coming days of the hoping. Yet it was the Hokhot prince to master his fate, for he was the able of the Hokhots to bring friends, knowing the many allies can bring the victory.

Who were the allies of Deryab in this gathering to conquer the Barga lands, Friend?

Conquer? You are still desperate for the tale of Ariq Khan to be the hopeful dreams of greatness and kindness, the peaceful thoughts of love and bravery from the words, thus you are failing to distinguish, for you are still the ill-knowing, Rhomaios.

I do not understand, Friend. The villain of your story is known as evil to my lands, so you accuse me of the dread I have, of the duty I do, of the faith I carry. Why would you show such hostility, if I am looking for the inspiring brotherhood from the tales of your people, for the hope of my people?

I am sorry, Rhomaios.

Friend? I must beg for your mercy, as I do not understand why you are apologising. I do not deserve such a regard from a mighty ruler as yours, I am only a humble servant for you and your words, thus I –

I am sorry, for you, Rhomaios. I pity your pathetic hopes, I am almost in remorse for the pain I cause to you. I told you I am neither that. I told you not to call me that. I told you the tales of my blood, now riding in the sky of the old days, they are not the ones you are looking for. Deryab was in such a pitiful mistake, as you are, yet more than you assuming the weak for his enemies, for they were us for them, and his vision of Erlik-wise did succeed, for he had many allies, yet he had the terrible fortune. Deryab called for his irgen, Gzi of the Yenisei Kirgiz, for he was the descendant of the old khagans, for he was in the fury for the Bargas, thus he listened to Deryab.

Gzi of the Yenisei Kirghiz told him: “O Prince Deryab, mighty Hokhot, noble son of Kuaz. Do not despair, for I do know the riders in the steppes, as I do know Belek Darqan the Flayer! I will urge him to raid and savage the lands of the Bargas, to keep them in the turmoil, to disrupt the peace of their khanate! All you need to do is make sure they cannot receive any help, from wherever Barga spawn reaches, so they will fall into the darkness, they will crumble in the hopeless, thus you can cast the fire-rain upon their sky.”

Thus concluded the gathering, so rode Buyana Khanum back to her Tuvan realm joyous, so rode Kuchuguden Darqan to his stone yurts in Altai happy, yet Deryab did not satisfy with it. He ordered his rider, thus spoke he in his words: “Tuhan of the Ubaganors, you serve my father, but you are my dearest friend! Ride to the Altais, see the duty of that rotten Kuchuguden executed for our needs! I count on you, for your courage will show us the coming days of our khaganate!” Thus served Tuhan with eager eyes, for he listened to his prince without any doubt, yet he would ride with even greater passion, for he despised the Bargas. They were the many whispers Tuyana the Moon Sable heard, for Tuhan of the Ubaganor personally slew most of the riders of the Bargas.

Yet this was not enough for Deryab, thus he looked at his servant, thus spoke he in his words: “Virdyan, my closest friend! Your silence worries my mind, for you kept your words off the gathering we had, for you distanced your thoughts from the vision we have!” Virdyan was the weak in the sword, but lurking in the shadows, never trusting his masters, for he had a darker mind than the most, but only to serve his friend Deryab, thus spoke he in his words: “Deryab, you are a fool if you think kings can have friends. There are only servants and foes for you, and I will serve you as I had been since that day I was born. You are a fool if you think your vision can work, for the mad riders of Belek, for the meek warriors of Kuchuguden, for the puny khanate of Buyana, none can satisfy what you wish for. Your brother Mosheg must learn his lesson to step aside, and the dogs of Bargas in your realm must be leashed. We must make sure you get the crown you deserve, and we must make sure that worm of Tavan Bogd, Asalup and his woman Tsymzidma, they must not descend from their mountains to the Hokhot forests. They must feel entrapped, they must feel alone, just as the Barga arse riding in the Mongol steppes now.”

Those words sealed the end of the gathering, thus realised the vision of Deryab. Not many suns passed, High King Kuaz deceased, but not before his eldest son Mosheg was no more breathing, thus was proclaimed Deryab the High King of the Hokhots, Khagan of the Kirghiz. Not many suns passed, Belek Darqan the Flayer unleashed his madness over the Mongolian steppes, thus started the Ten Suns of War. Not many suns passed, Kuchuguden Darqan succeeded to ambush every rider to cross the Altais, thus remained Bargas in the steppes alone, far from their brethren and friends. None of them could foresee what the Ngawas of the Tibet realm could do, none of them could know how Byorte and Bilduu would be killed, no one could expect what the collapse of the bond between the Bargas would bring. It was unfortunate for them, for High King Deryab, and for you, for your people, for everyone.

How, Friend? I am deeply saddened to hear the reasons of the demise of the Bargas, but I want to know. Tell me, Friend. What was the misfortune you spoke of?

So be it. You should listen to my words, but carefully, Rhomaios. It was the return of the storm, for its nature was changed with the misty whispers, the silent words, the grey tales Tuyana the Moon Sable learnt, and she was able to deliver them to the Borchigin lands. Phongma the Bear would listen to them, yet she ordered riders to deliver them to the storming Ariq Khan. His return was in his words for Kublai Darqan, for the struggling darqan truly hoped for his brother to fail even more than him. Ariq Khan received the words, thus he declared his return, abruptly ending his victories in the Han and the Khitan realms. This was the moment of false happiness for Kublai Darqan, for he could not foresee what was happening beyond his fair rule. He truly thought his brother failed to bring any hope for the demise of their sisters, thus thought he Ariq was returning in shame. It was, unfortunate for him, too. For it was the blind wishes without ambitions his demise came from, for it was The Seeker to return at the same days of her khan, just as he ordered. Yet she was far from failure, for she was determined to bring the tales of all to every mother and father, to every children, to all to hear and to tell for the coming days. All Mongols, Keraits, Naimans, Oirats, and Buryats; all Turks, Uriankhais, Laktans, Kimeks, Kipchaks, Uyghurs, Yughurs; and even all Kirghiz, all Han, all Khitan, they heard the calling, to bind their tales, to protect their words, to hear from the pedestals, to speak to them to deliver for the eternal sky. All of them. Unfortunate for them, for you, for everyone, it was Ariq Khan waiting for them, and fortunate for them, for us, and now you, he showed them the laws to gather in happiness, to herd in joy, to ride in safe, for he showed what their foes were. The enemies to bring the flame, to unleash the fire upon their tales, to ashen their words for their children. All people gathered by the passion of The Seeker, the enemies revealed by the shadows of The Moon Sable, the unsatisfied bonded by the failure of Kublai Darqan, the mourning caused by the villainy of High King Deryab, only to follow the words of Ariq Khan. He assembled the Kurultai of the Storm on his return, to a consequence no one could foresee, but to ease the eternal pain all of them have, the need for the happiness in the coming days. They rode with him to the white, they crossed the Altais to reach the Yenisei lands, to look at the realm of the Kirghiz, the lands of High King Deryab, it was the nine hundred and ninety fourth age of your Lord. He demanded they should kneel before him for a crown, and Ariq Khan replied brief, “I am the khan of the Bargas. We do not wear crowns.” All of them cheered his name, yet it was a different one, thus you never heard of him, you never learnt for whom you were looking, you never expected for what you would achieve, when you succeeded to come before my presence, Rhomaios.

Friend… Friend, what are you saying? Friend!

They were cheering for the khagan, for a name that you heard, you dreaded, your masters sent you to find anyone to oppose that name, to learn who could fight against that name stormed in the old days, yet you only reached the lands conquered by that khagan many suns in the old. You never heard the tales of Ariq Khan, for he was the greatest khan, for he was proclaimed the Khagan of Mongols.

Friend!

In the land of the Pars, they called him Padsah-i Jahan, Xan-i ‘Alam. Rhomaios, I told you following the words blindly is hopeless of you.

He – this tale – it cannot be possible!

In the land of the Oghuz, they called him Kür Ulugh Ulusnun Taluinun Qan. Rhomaios, there is no escape for you.

This cannot be! This is impossible!

In the land of the Han, they called him Hai-nei huang-ti. Rhomaios, I told you it is unfortunate for you.

NO!

...

Please Friend, tell me this is not true!

...and we called him, Chinggis Khan.

Note on the link Chinggis Khan: The HU - The Great Chinggis Khaan - from the album The Gereg - 2019

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes. Correction on format.

filcat · Nov 6, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XI

The Storm

What is this place? Why are we here?

Rhomaios, it is encouraging to hear your words again. I was afraid, for you might have lost your voice, for the words were scarce since the day you opened your eyes again. Silence of a mind can conceal the truth, yet it may hinder the ones to realise the possibility of a disease. It is pleasing to know, for you are not in the foul ezens I was afraid of.

I do not remember.

It is a pity if you lost the words we had over the course of months, Rhomaios.

I remember them. All those words you told as a tale, and it was everything I dreaded, however I blindly listened to you in the darkest clouds of evil crushing the hope I had. You were right. I was a fool. I am a pathetic fool. Yet, I do not remember how we have arrived at these hills, for I cannot name the plains we are looking at from these highlands. We were at the yurt, as the last moment I can surmise.

I must say now the regret I have, but it is not a sudden curse I receive, for the ezens have been defiling my mind for such a long time now. I should have been more careful with you, Rhomaios.

What happened?

You heard the tales I told, you heard the words you suffered, and you heard the name for it resounded, thus started your screams to deny the truth surrounding you. You screamed for the denial, you screamed for the help, you screamed until the darkness covered your eyes, for your screams ended in a crushing sound for a heart to hear. We moved my yurt, so could I bring you to the steppes, for seeing the vast ocean of grass can cure every mind in the eternal struggle of pain, the pain of consciousness. You opened your eyes on the third day, unable to speak, hesitating to eat, never moving unless forced to. The fourth day on these highlands cured the mind, now I can see. Rhomaios, do you see the cattle and the sheep, do you see the hunters and the herders, far over the steppes to the white?

Yes. I see the oxen, I see the sheep, I see the horses, I see the people. It is not clear, for the wind is mild, but floating enough to hide their voices, for they are afar.

It is encouraging to see the recovery of a mind, Rhomaios. Your sight is just as good as before, and the words are understandable.

Why am I here? Why did you bring me here? It would be easier to execute me where I passed out.

The sharp mind may need more time to adjust, I understand now. What you are saying is utterly nonsensical, Rhomaios.

Why would it be inconceivable, since the horror I heard is real, I am in the yurt of the dread, I am in the presence of the wrath, I am in the possession of the fear, for I am before you? I was fooled by the futility of my hopes, however I did not deserve the victory for achieving them, yet I ended up in the failure of my life.

The dread is the mind I can comprehend, the wrath is in the tales I can remember, but the fear is unnecessary, Rhomaios. I told you, for I told you many times before, the words I remember you will listen to, for you are the one to carry them for the coming days.

The yurt I remember we were in, it was the modest of the steppes, for it had only a mattress of the poor, chairs of the ordinary, a hearth of the miserable. I recall; a strange helm of the ancient times, unknown and unprecedented; a wooden horse of the smallest kind, but darkened through the ages it survived; a mirror of the murky shades, unable to reflect any more; a blade of the curved shape, showing the bloodstain baring the brutality it inflicted, but now broken and rusted; and a pole with the dark long hairs attached, yet worn out, unable to brandish its majesty. I have never heard of the name Barga, thus I was in the unknown for Ariq Khan, but the dread lies in the name of Chinggis Khan. How could I believe the mercy I am given now, for my hopes were absolutely in the false dreams I had, for I have been cursed by them since months without any grace?

If you are telling me the words you heard were embroiled in lies only to fool you, Rhomaios, I may lose my patience, and I do not behave the benevolent way you experienced.

I am in the fear for my life, for I know it is the end for me. After the fear crushed my soul by the tales I fell for, these words mean nothing.

Rhomaios, it is true when one faces the eternal fear, the clash can shatter the mind. You cannot be unaware of yourself, for you just have told yourself, as the roaring horror tormented you, yet you survived, looking at it as it passes through, asking to challenge the one you are speaking to. This is good for your mind, Rhomaios.

I… I will live?

Yes.

I… Your words… I do not… How could it be possible to conceal the name of a khan from the tales, storming from the seas at the end of the world to the seas in the known world?

Rhomaios, it is true the yurt I live in is not the lavish home one may expect, for that is the least important matter in my mind. I banished the thoughts of the grandeur one may lose self in when the reign of thousands depends on that mind. I banished the name of Barga, for they were in the wrong. Ariq Khan, however, was aware of every mind, for he was foreseeing what he wanted, thus he rode to the day he wished for, the mightiest ruler ever to be, forever to rule, ever to remember, yet he could not change what would happen once his mind reached The Eternal Blue. No one can. Thus the name shall be Baigaljin, for we are the children of the daughters from Baikal, for they were the names we wish to remember. Yet it is the tale of the sons we suffer, since the days of The Wolf. Ariq Khan rode his horse with thousands following him, for he was able to show them what they wanted to achieve. This is the closest explanation I can summon, Rhomaios.

When one wishes all to follow, some may, others may not, thus definitely not all will. So shows the one the snow of the blade, the fire of the arrow, thus all will. However, Rhomaios, this may not end as the wish of the one, for ordering all to a different mind will bring the resentment. It is inevitable, thus thousands can, and will, rebel. It is at that moment we judge according to what the one does, if it is the great saviour, else the terrible monster. Ariq Khan was different, for I told you, for he was more than the mighty hopes, just as you had, yet he was more than the monstrous wrath, just as you feared. Chinggis Khan Ariq, for he showed all what they could achieve, when they would ride with him, but more than his wishes. He was riding to bring what all wished for, Rhomaios. This is the reason I could find out after so many suns I thought about it, yet I know it is not sufficient.

What was it?

Ariq Khan knew what all wished, to live the day for their coming days, to carry their tales for their children, to bind them together against those wishing to bring fire upon their words. He showed them to protect their ancestors in the words of their own stories, to make them the tales of all, to fight for them, to pass them on their children. For that, Rhomaios, one needs a villain each and every other can accept, thus was Ariq Khan able, for he told them who the monster was for their tales. The Erlik-wise evils of High King Deryab. Not for Ariq, but the doom came upon Deryab, for it was inevitable. You must know what happens after a monster is defeated in a tale, Rhomaios.

It is the serenity of the salvation.

No, Rhomaios. After a monster, another one emerges. That is the reason how one can lead thousands, thousands will follow one, for the monsters do not end, for yet another becomes the villain.

But this is damnation for eternity. Darkest mind for a cursed life one would have, if you lose the hope for the love of God.

Do not fall for the bliss again, Rhomaios. Your greatest fortune is the age you live in, for Ariq Khan is in The Eternal Blue, for his age stormed many suns in the past. I… I am different, but soon I also will join the sky to ride for eternity. Daritai, however, is the truth you absolutely need to run away.

I… I know him.

Yes, Rhomaios.

Why would you torment my mind in the ways of the monsters you speak of? I was sincere when I said your words concealed the truth, for I am in the awe of a khan surrounding himself in such poverty, even with the bed to sleep in, yet even more by the tales of all before him. A shadow-veil, successful in achieving the secrecy over the greatest khan you had, for the name of Ariq Khan escaped the tales I heard. It was only a great storm I was told, an unnamed mist of the past, if spoken in whispers at all, yet the mighty in the old, thus I was lured by them. Unfortunate for me, when I was captured by your Khishigs, I was still in the hope of meeting the benevolence of that line I was dreaming. Now I see how foolish it was, to hear my words from your mind, for I am the simpleton of your torturing amusements. How could you achieve such a sovereign power?

Rhomaios, it is the answer you know very well, yet your mind is blurred by the mud of it. I told the wrong in the tales, for the people to understand, yet this would be inadequate, thus I ordered to engrave them on the pedestals. The words on them can speak, all can hear the tales they tell, so will even the children see the days of the dark, the ways of the deviants. It was the stone to keep the tales, but even this would be inadequate, thus I ordered to shape them on the heavy scrolls, just as your people do, Rhomaios. It was inevitable, for Ariq Khan was mighty, but no one can resume such a reign while riding in The Eternal Blue, thus the words of the sky shall fall on the ones, for they always despair once the storm leaves them, but they will follow once again they hear them, for the words on the pedestals, on the heavy scrolls, they can speak, for they bind the tales of all.

However, Rhomaios, I do not need to cast shadow-veils as you insult me, for it is your fault to suffer by the tales.

How could you be such merciless? For I am in pain, but it is my soul in flames as you accuse me for it. I do not insult you, for I remember your words when I asked for the greatness and the kindness, the generosity and the passion, the mighty and the brave in the tales. I was grateful when I listened as you told, for every tale of Ariq Khan was of such, for he loved his kin, for he suffered for his people, for he fought against his enemies, yet the tales were surrounded with the wrathful clouds of the evil, as it ended in the name of Chinggis Khan.

It is not my intention to cause you such pain, Rhomaios, yet it is to believe you do you are suffering from. You desperately wish to save your mind from the pain, you and your people, and my people as well, for everyone to follow one is the fallen curse shared by all, but only by the hopes in a storm to sweep all the horror, yet without any struggle.

It was the madness of foolishness to try excusing the monsters, for those were your words, I remember.

And I never did, Rhomaios. You are the one looking for the serenity, just as you accept your rulers as the sacred saviours of the tales, thus we are the villains in your words. It was this hope I warned you about.

The abominable evils of the tales I heard are true, but they are not in the ones you told me. I cannot even speak of the nightmares about such villainy I dread from the tales I heard, yet the ones you told have none, and certainly never in the ones I heard for the lands I came from.

This is showing the blindness of you, Rhomaios, for I can trust the sincerity of your words. It is encouraging, for it is another shape of monstrosity, to see the darkest moments of life, and be able to ignore. At the least you are truly unaware what you had seen, from the travels you made, from the tales you heard, from the people you met.

You… Did you…?

Yes, Rhomaios, I told you, for I know you. I had seen the words all shaped by your skills, sent to inform your masters about the lands you saw. I do have scouts, just as you. You are not the most skilful one in shaping the words, it is true, but you are seeing the world you travel only to justify your own fears, while casting blind-eyes on the tales of your people, for your mind is the ill-knowing.

What do you mean?

I am talking about the victories of your beloved and just, kind and mighty Basileus, over the lands to the black of your lands. However, Rhomaios, victories are not won against lands, but people. Those were living in the steppes of the sea in the black of your lands. They do not any more, for they are no more, are they? Well, speak true!

They… they were…

So be it. Words fall from the mind when the truth in the tales is asked. Yes, they were, once, but after the great victories of your mighty rulers, they are no more. It is the hope you have, for you are desperate to have, but your mind is lost in the pit of following. I tell you this, Rhomaios, for there is none such to hope for in any tale one may ever hear.

I…

You searched for a storm, and you hoped it to be the answer, to rise above the fearful, to inspire the brave, to bring the serenity of kindness, to live the passion of love, for you hope a storm would soar in the generous might.

But it has to be –

No, Rhomaios, a storm roars with thunders, a storm blasts with lightnings, a storm sweeps all on its path with its unforgiving wrath. It was the nine hundred and ninety fourth age of your Lord when all were cheering for the name of Chinggis Khan, for he was looking at the white horizon, thus rode he into the lands of High King Deryab. The villages of the Kirghiz Khanate in Kolta lands were widespread around Erchis river, hidden in the forests, surrounded by wooden walls, and defended by fierce warriors of their people. Yet, it took mere months for the villages to fall, for High King Deryab was still struggling to return from his marauding vision, to shatter the Mongolian steppes by his invasion, to hunt for Belek Darqan the Flayer but failed in confusion, once Ariq Khan returned from the deepest blue to his lands, but thousands were following him, thousands were riding with him, thousands were fighting for him. It was the storm of tümens, for it was the greatest gathering the steppes had ever seen, for all of them were riding against High King Deryab, for he was the one to cast fire upon their tales.

The tümens of Chinggis Khan had the riders fought in all the corners of Mongolia, of Buryatia, of Angara, for he was Ariq, Khan of the Bargas, Khagan of Yekhe Mongol Uls, and they were fighting since the days of The Wolf. The tümens of Chinggis Khan had the warriors conquered the Khitan, for he was the storm from Baikal, and they knew how to bring even the stone walls down. The tümens of riders stormed the villages, for the forests were unable to stop them, for the wooden walls were unable to stand against them, for the defenders were unable to fight them.

Gzi of the Yenisei Kirgiz called upon the allies and the friends of the realm, for they were the only ones to defend them. It would not be wise to wait for the warriors of High King Deryab, thus began the desperate fight of the remaining ones. Tuhan of the Ubaganors led his warriors before the orders of his High King, to reach the Khanate before them, to meet the Mongols before them, to stop the conquests before them. High King of the Kirghiz was not satisfied, thus ordered he the shamans to denounce the name of the Bargas, so cast the curses Togli Shaman, screaming from his throat to the highest end of the sky. It was the dire moment understood by High King Deryab, but still in the hope of reaching the victory, for he was too eager to wait for his fortune, yet he was too quick to alter his mind. The words reached him, for the fall of his people’s villages alarmed him, and the words reached him, for the words of his friends abandoned him. Virdyan urged him to return, so he gathered his forces for a march of incredible anger, calling upon bands of Uriankhai and Kipchak riders to fight with him, to meet the khan of the Bargas, the puny rider of the steppes, the usurper spawn from the cursed mountains, the petty pretender of the khaganate, for it was the ambition of High King Deryab, to reach the might of the ancients, to proclaim himself as the mightiest khagan. Unfortunate for him, the age of the ancient khagans was the dust of the old days, and it was the age of Ariq Khan, for his riders, his people, his kin declared him Chinggis Khan.

Every yurt captured by the tümens of riders, Ariq Khan sent the words to High King Deryab to meet him in the battle. Every village conquered by the tümens of riders, Ariq Khan bestowed the mercy of the benevolent to bring the peace of the uls. Every victory won by the tümens of riders, Deryab hastened in his anger, while Ariq was storming in his mind. The day of the arrival occurred only in the second sun of the storm, for it was the day High King Deryab was able to reach his lands in his full might. Unfortunate for him, for he would never to wait, he rushed towards the mingghan of Ariq Khan, yet it was Ariq Khan, for he knew whom he would need for the unknown vision of his mind, looking at the unknown place, living in the unknown day, yet it was obvious only to him. He needed the thousands to ride, thus he trusted The Seeker, for her mind was filled with ezens of passion, she was able to bring the words of Ariq Khan to bind the tales of all, however she hoped in false. He needed the walls to shatter, thus he trusted Temyulen the Black Tiger, for even when her mind was filled with the ezens of suffering, she was able to raise the warriors to bring them down since the earliest sun she saw. He needed the hearth to be safe, thus he trusted Phongma the Bear and Saran the Restless Heron, for their minds were filled with the ezens of fierce, they were able to roam the Borchigin lands with only four mingghans to protect. However, Rhomaios, Hing King Deryab was able only to crave for the might, for his ambition was far superior than his fortune, thus he was in the blind to desire the victory, whereas he could bring only six mingghans of warriors. The mighty khanate of the Kirghiz, the pride of the titles, the lust for the supreme reign, but ambitions are challenged with the truth, and the truth of battles is revealed by the numbers.

Who was it Ariq Khan trusted when they met High King Deryab on the battlefield?

Even if the mind is silent against the wild fortune, to overcome the challenge one needs to be more. Thus needed Ariq Khan the storm of the hate, the tempest of the kin, for it was Aldar Noyan to be called upon. High King Deryab was able to ambush Ariq Khan, for it was the weak he could see judging by the numbers. Only one minnghan to protect Ariq, Deryab dashed over the foothills of Altais. Yet it was the blunder he failed to see, for Aldar Noyan the Tempest reached before the battle could end, but with the two tümens he was entrusted.

Two tümens… When you speak of them, I understand the might of numbers.

The might is the blind-eye to see when the tale of a battle is uttered, Rhomaios. Two tümens of riders were nothing but a detachment, and you are still in the mind of the hope against the great evil. When it was over, the tale you hear in your age becomes the victory, but for the ones fought in it, it was the slaughter they suffered, for none survived from the warriors following High King Deryab. His baghaturs and his followers, his friends and his kin were captured, his warriors were slain, the blood of suffering covered the hills, the sky was screaming the merciless end. He was brought before the great khan, but the eyes of Ariq Khan were in the mild, his words were in the silent, his mind was in the tranquillity. I remember, I remember all words he said, for it was heard by all fought at that hill: “This is the end of your reign over the lands of Kolta, High King Deryab of the Hokhots. Go now, to wherever you can, to rule whomever you can, to ride whenever you can, for I do not need your words, your blood is irrelevant, your crown is meaningless, yet your life is sacred, thus can you tell your tales for your children. I do not need your fame, for we do not wear crowns, but I wear the greatest one. My crown is The Eternal Blue, above my head rides Tengri All-Sky.”

The tale of Ariq Khan you speak of, now it has the benevolence of the merciful victor, the fair judgement of the mighty ruler, the bounteous justice of the gracious khan, yet you said he was the dread of all, Chinggis Khan of the Mongols. This is incomprehensible, for I see my hopes growing ever greater, yet I do know it must be false. How could you be such cruel, never hurting by the swords, but with the immense misery I am tortured by the words?

I do not have any desire for your suffering, Rhomaios, and it is now hurting my mind, for I look at your own demise in the mind of yours. You still dream of the saviours prevailing against the monsters in the tales. What I told you is the doom for people, for I have been speaking of conquests after conquests, yet only now you are questioning, but you should do it for all the tales I spoke of, for all the tales you heard of. You expect a storm can cure the misery, yet when it soars, it is the doom of people. For High King Deryab, it was the ultimate defeat, humiliated by his adversary, failed to achieve his ambitions, and to further his loss, he was not to be considered even as a challenge any more. It is merciful as opposed to ending the life of one, I can agree with that, for the crime of High King Deryab, with his Erlik-wise vision, was to cast the fire upon the tales of the people of Mongolia, but this is nothing to what happens to the ordinary, when the victory is proclaimed. When the battle was over, the Kirghiz Khanate was nothing more than a couple of yurts banished from the lands, and there was only Yekhe Mongol Uls.

You must understand it, Rhomaios, for a storm cannot soar with the greatness and the kindness, the generosity and the passion, the might and the bravery, but it roars with thunders, blasts with lightnings, sweeps all on its path with its unforgiving wrath, but more for the people. You see the hunters and the herders, far over the steppes to the white, just as those I am speaking of. The tales are heard by the names we dream and dread, but the nameless thousands just as them are still there, unaware of the tales told upon them. When a storm approaches, you hear the ominous sound of the might, yet to the tales they give the mystery, but the screams of thousands rise, yet in the tales they become almost a silent elegy from the skies beyond, calling for mercy, for it becomes clear they are only games in the great hunt. Unfortunate for them, for us, for you, for everyone, when the enormous blows of the storm fall on everyone, it deafens the tales, for it is the end of the many, yet inescapable, inevitable, unavoidable.

I…

…

Friend?

Yes, Rhomaios?

What happened to the ones captured, after the battle of the two khagans, Friend? What was the judgement of Ariq Khan for them?

He burned them.

Note on the link a storm: A.R. Rahman, Craig Armstrong - Storm - from the soundtrack of Elizabeth: The Golden Age - 2007
Note on the link games: Jóhann Gunnar Jóhannsson - Soccer Game - from the soundtrack of Sicario - 2015

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Nov 25, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XII

The Turmoil

Bu-bu don’t go, you promised me we would ride together to Bargujin, you promised to teach me to count the stars quickly, you promised we would herd the sheep, don’t go Bu-bu.

You are speaking of the words I do not understand. Your eyes are looking at the space no one can reach, your body is shaking no one can grasp, your mind is in the place no one can help. Should I call for others to your aid?

No, Rhomaios. I feel the end, but for now my mind is in my grasp. I must admit, it is harder as the days pass, for they are shortening, yet hopefully sooner than I fear, I will be riding in the eternal sky.

I cannot agree to hope for the end of anyone, and your words are mortifying to hear.

Are you speaking true, Rhomaios, for it is not definite to see the support of your eyes for the words you have? You speak generous, but your eyes, I see them Rhomaios, they are burning in anger.

I was able to hide my feelings for a long time, but since you told me the tales of the great khan of yours belong to the evil, I am no more. But your demise; that I do not seek. I cannot, not even for you.

So be it. All I wish is you listen to my words, yet it would be my ambitious hope to fulfil, for you to understand what you suffer is what you believe, Rhomaios. You see the undying righteousness in your tales, thus you will find the evil everywhere. The reason is not lying behind your tales, but it is the fact that you do believe. I do not oppose the existence of the monsters, I told you, for they live among us, for they ride, for they rule, and one has to be strong as the castle of stones in the mind against such to fight them, yet the trust you have for the benevolent to challenge them, it is this desperation you will always suffer from.

I cannot agree with you. Certainly not after the cursed words I had heard from you, and more did follow as you spoke, for you said days before, Ariq Khan burned them all.

I am not going to repeat what others would do, else what they already do, Rhomaios. Yet your words are true. He released High King Deryab to live in his own misery, and he burned the remaining alive.

Alive…

Yes, Rhomaios. When the storm reaches the skies of the might as Chinggis Khan, it cannot be stopped, for it will roar with the wrath of ages, unrestricted, unquestioned, unprecedented.

But that is impossible. It should have been improbable. It must have been intolerable for anyone to allow this.

You are still longing for a saviour, Rhomaios…

You told Ariq Khan was never alone! You told he was surrounded by the kin, supported by the followers, and regardless of his great might, The Seeker was there to gaze upon the madness! How could The Seeker allow this?

You are amazing, Rhomaios.

Ridicule my mind as you wish, but I may comprehend the blindness of others when they face the evil, and yet, I cannot accept as they rode with it.

So be it. Let the evil stand as you deem in the tales, but I am amazed in the truth, for your questions are showing the brilliance I have been looking for so long a time, and it is only gladness behind the amazement I have, Rhomaios, far from ridiculing. Your words are true, The Seeker was paralysed in her mind, when the tales of all she rigorously gathered only ended in the incredible horrors, despite her intentions. It was unacceptable, it was inadmissible, it was inconceivable. She was determined, the horrors of the old would never return, yet she was looking at the ones, screaming in the flames, however guilty, else innocent, devoured by the storm of Chinggis Khan. She was determined, the mindless violence of the ancient would be stopped, yet she was only one, and then she was against all, riding with Chinggis Khan. She was determined, the unruly brutality of the past would be eradicated, yet she was the bringer of the tales, only to allow the might of Ariq, for him to storm as Chinggis Khan.

And you… How could you tolerate such, when you whip my mind with the words of cold but you claim them only to be true, condemning my hopes, yet you lived all the insanity through?

I told you, Rhomaios, when Ariq claimed there was only Tengri The Eternal Blue riding over his head, everyone heard what he said, but not every mind understood what it brought. Even more, they were the men and the women, and it was beyond the mind of a child. The love of a mother is necessary for a child to survive, the love of a father is necessary for a child to thrive, but they cannot grasp the strings of the destiny despite their rigour, for a child will always be ambitious for more, and always different than the expected it will be. Then for a child seeing not many suns, there were only siblings, either playfully sharing else selfishly spoiling, there were only uncles and aunts, either stern and trustworthy, otherwise harsh and intimidating. Yet there was The Seeker, and her words were always soothing, her tales were always encouraging, her mind was always celebrating. I never told you I approved what Chinggis Khan Ariq did, and I never claimed it, but as my mind came to the age, I despised it, for it was showing the insanity of the might you said, but the might itself overshadows it many times, thus I was too late. The vision of Ariq when he heard the words of the demise of his sisters, it was the unknown mind for an unknown place in an unknown day, and he rode for it, bringing everyone with him, whether in the knowing, else unaware.

I am unable to follow the reason you provide. Was she the one you followed, so to despise Chinggis Khan? Is this the truth?

You are still looking for the simplest answer, Rhomaios, even though you know very well it will not lead you to reach the end of the darkness you are desperately struggling in.

But the tales I heard before coming to your presence, however they were nameless, be them for the past, else from our age, they were not – they could not – they should not –

The tales of my age, the ones you heard, to explain them to you would be to repeat how the boulder falls, how the barley is shaken, how the leaves get wet. But the ones from the age of Ariq Khan, I will tell them all, Rhomaios. Yet, before those tales, you need to be reminded, for a child asking a simple question, just as how to ride the horse when it does not behave as the rider wishes, the answer is important but one has to have the mind to reply, Rhomaios.

I… I do not understand.

I would speak for your mind to see, but I do not wish to hurt you Rhomaios, for I do know you never had any children of yours.

You cannot hurt any more with the words, yet I am in the anger to learn what the tales are. Even if you did not approve, you still rode with him.

Yes. Yes I did. However, Rhomaios, when a child would ask to master the ride, Altana the Silent Seal would see you never to touch a horse, for she would decide it would be too dangerous for one asking such a question. Aldar Noyan the Tempest would reply in plain words, “Ride as you would run, but do not ever cry when you fall,” as his raging eyes would crush the innocence of the question. Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak would look at you, she would detest your plea, she would pity your existence through only her eyes, for she was the coldest mountain to ask for help, however she would aid you. Saran the Restless Heron would embrace you with all her being, she would try to help you however she could, even though she could never fulfil the thirst the question brought. Kublai Darqan would laugh at you, as if you are the weakest creature of Tengri, however he would bring you the best horse of Buryat, however he would support you mounting the horse, however he would watch you tremor as you try to ride, and it was the amusement in his eyes seeing one in the struggle, to overcome the failures of his own. Temyulen… Temyulen the Black Tiger would answer, but with the eyes of sorrow, and one could do nothing but sulk, for she was lost in the agony. A child can feel all immediately, yet unable to tell, for the words require the life of many suns. Then by the undying fierceness in the love of Phongma the Bear, one would feel the safety, but a child can conceive the youthful jealousy for sharing that love with the siblings.

That is why the answers of the others were always more valuable to listen to, for it was the unmatched truth of the real, when Tuyana the Moon Sable would reply. Her words were the least to expect the empathy for the weak, yet it was hers to surprise, for her mind was able to live for one ambition only, and every other being was just the rest to be either defeated, else to be tolerated. If the challenger was out of her path, she would only tell you the truth, the unique serenity one can ever strive for. A child can see this, before anyone can notice, yet it is still unsatisfactory, for the words to cast the mystery one desires. Thus was The Seeker able in feeding the mind asking for more, for her tales would lead them to the places no one had ever seen before. They nevertheless lacked the sincere eyes, for hers were also taken by the words to those places she would speak of.

Then who?

It was Sambuu, Rhomaios. Sambuu Noyan would look at you, and you would feel the ice in the words he spoke to you, but you would know they were the truth. They would freeze you, yet you would see the meaning behind, for he would answer you in the loving intimacy, for he would grant you the eternal blessing, of allowing you to elevate to his mind. You would see the benevolent generosity, yet his was the respectful looks in the eyes, as if you were by his side, instead of looking from below. I remember, I remember for they told me all, for he was in this mind even when he was young. The life was only a breeze to cherish for him, only to ride with the greatest joy, only to change when it required at any moment, but always giving the utmost support others would need, the unbreakable, the unyielding, the unmatched faith he would create in the minds, for he had it in his mind when he knew. It was this reason also, for Aldar would be always by his side, for it was by Sambuu he could find the comfort of the kin, of being in the everlasting bond with a sibling. It was this reason, had you had the chance, you would ask to learn, none other than Sambuu.

Did you trust him?

Yes. Until the sun of Kün Ana dawns never more, I would trust him, Rhomaios, but this is irrelevant for the tales of that age. In the days of old, Sambuu was the one to reach any answer, for he would tell all asked for, in the mind a child could find the love, the safety, the confidence, the mystery, the truth. Aldar was raging in his tempest, not even Ariq Khan could tame his anger for long, but it was always Sambuu. Ariq Khan would amass the greatest might under the sky, even The Seeker would struggle to challenge him, but it was always Sambuu. When the Kirghiz Khanate fell from the eyes, there was nothing to stop the riders of Yekhe Mongol Uls. Yet it was still the age of the two kurultais, for the pain of the loss still seemed never to die, thus was Kublai Darqan in the hate, for The Seeker was questioning the aftermath. She would dare to face the khan, only to say “You, son of The Warrior of the Red! You, descendant of The Wolf! You promised to bring together all the tales! You promised never to live the horrors of the old again! Yet we are hearing the screams, the burning of lives, the flames on the flesh! You are cursing this land! You are cursing your kin, your family! You are cursing your people!”

Did Ariq Khan listen to her?

Yes.

How could this happen? You told me he was Chinggis Khan, the butcher, the evil, the greatest villain I ever know!

So be it. I will not try more to question your mind, but I will continue to tell the tales of old, Rhomaios. Chinggis Khan Ariq listened to her, for his was the greatest mind with the vision unknown to all, but Kublai Darqan would not.

What was it, you speak of the vision, for it is hidden in the tales?

To rule, Rhomaios, to rule. Yet one cannot rule all, when all are not following. Ariq Khan knew what he did was the intolerable, but it was the need for his mind, as well for the kin’s, to satisfy the justice, yet it could never bring their loss back. He knew it, he told it, his was the greatest mind to see it, but the others fell in the dark of the vengeance. Kublai Darqan was in the deepest desire for justice, in all his righteous mind, for he wished nothing else, not even he wanted any spoils from the fallen Kirghiz. He despised his kin, for Tsymzidma and Temyulen would be granted the lands beyond the white of Altais, and he was in the anger. Yet more than him, Aldar was furious, for he was screaming to resume to ride, for the justice in his mind, however it was impossible. But, Rhomaios, Ariq had the love of Phongma, the wisdom from The Seeker, and the support of the thousands. More than those, he had the support of his kin, not all, but fortunate for him, of Sambuu, even though not in the way one would assume. Kublai was himself, and he had no one else. Aldar was himself, but he had Sambuu by his side. Yet, Sambuu spoke to Ariq, “It is not the day to seek the justice over Kirghiz any more, my brother Ariq. You were the one to tell us, to ride with you to bind the tales of all, and we did, my brother Ariq. You were the one to lead us, to fight the Kirghiz to punish for their crimes, and we did, my brother Ariq. There is nothing left of them, and we need to celebrate now, for ours is the victory, people’s is the peace, and yours is the glory.”

Ariq, however he was Chinggis Khan, would listen to his brother, for his words were the love, the safety, the confidence, the mystery, the truth, even for him, as well for children. Thus forgave Ariq Khan, the challenging words of The Seeker, and the hateful looks of Kublai Darqan, thus dismissed Ariq Khan the raging screams of Aldar Noyan. “My brother Sambuu, I agree with your mind, but tell me: Your face shows the bites of loving too many women, your eyes show the frost of winters on mountains, yet your words are always the truth. How do you achieve such delight after what we lived through?”

Sambuu Noyan, with his freezing eyes, with his impeccable smile, with his iron-strong demeanour, did reply: “Ariq, I have the delight for the day of Kün Ana, and let there be the delight for the night of Ay Ata. Tengri The Eternal Blue bestows the kut for you, and I am bestowed with the eyes of the ice, for I do not need to lie. Your might will never to cease under the sky, for that is the greatest might one can have, and I will never cease to love, for that is the greatest wonder one can have.” The laughter of the joy followed the words, for it was the day of bonding, for it was the day of victory, for it was the day of justice. Unfortunately, none of it resumed for so long.

What happened to the bonding, the victory, the justice?

Simple questions will bring simple answers, Rhomaios, and they may satisfy the mind, yet they will oversee every reason in the truth. By achieving the victory over Kirghiz, Chinggis Khan Ariq was proclaimed to be the one true khagan, but only for the steppes, for the forests, for the mountains. By granting the spoils of the fallen khanate, he was supported by Temyulen and by Tsymzidma, securing his bond with the kin, assuring the Khishigs to follow him. By listening to the words of The Seeker, he was celebrated by Phongma, by Altana, by Saran, yet it was Kublai in the hateful denial, for his was the unsatiable justice, and more, he could not accept the respect The Seeker would get. Thus were the words of Sambuu the greatest help, for he was the sibling every other would accept, for Kublai could not contest. Those words of Sambuu Noyan persuaded all of them, and only many suns later I realised, how brilliant was the mind of Ariq Khan, for he was able in the listening, for those words concurred with what his vision was. Yet Aldar was not compromising, desiring for more, for there were many in the blame, but he was already lost in the vengeance rather than justice, thus was he dismissed. When he could not stop himself, he would start his tempest, one erupting within the greater one they lived in, but only causing disaster, ending in more tragedy. But it was the age of Ariq Khan, for he was Chinggis Khan, Khan of the Bargas, Khagan of Yekhe Mongol Uls, for his was the greatest storm. What happened to bonding, victory, justice, was more of them, Rhomaios. By the thousand and fifteenth age of your Lord, it was ascertained forever, Chinggis Khan Ariq was bestowed with the kut of Tengri The Eternal Blue to rule the world known to him, to his kin, to his people.

You said The Seeker… and you said Sambuu his brother… and you said not all of his kin, his family…

…and I told you Rhomaios, the storm is never to cease. Yes, there was The Seeker, and following her were The Bear, The Restless Heron, The Silent Seal, but after those victories, The Black Tiger and The Wise Karsak were to follow him fiercely, as well as the Khishigs. The Moon Sable was already by his side since the kurultai of the wind. Yet there were always Kublai Darqan and The Tempest to oppose, not just Ariq Khan, but to all, and more The Seeker. And thus, Rhomaios, you should be able, you should be in the knowing, you should realise, how could the storm remain unstoppable.

I dread to ask, yet I wish – no, I have to know.

The sharp mind always asks for more to learn, Rhomaios. So be it. When The Seeker was no more.

What could be… How?! Friend! What did happen to them when she was… when she was…?

She was the light in the darkened minds they were in, thus when she was no more, there remained no one to challenge, but the boulder does not fall just by a kick, for the barley is not shaken by only a wind, for the leaves do not get wet by only rains. To answer how, I need to rest for the day. But to what happened, I can readily answer, Rhomaios, for it is the simplest. Turmoil, Rhomaios. When the only light faints, when the pillars of the earth are shaken, when the serenity of words leaves, the storm prevails inevitable, and the life is left out of harmony.

Note on the link the life is left out of harmony: Philip Glass - Koyaanisqatsi - from the soundtrack for the (documentary) film with the same name (1983).

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected major publication mistakes. Correction on format.

filcat · Dec 12, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XIII

The Lightning in the Eyes

The reasons I enlightened in the dark of the night, under the stars I counted alone, while I was riding the horse I learnt how to by myself, now they turned into the words I utter. All would be forgotten, had I not showed the audacity to speak them. I made every effort with the last strength left in my mind, as much as I could muster, for the words be delivered to the coming days, but now my heart fails, for I do know the end is nigh. In The Eternal Blue I would be riding I told, yet I know it will not be bestowed upon me, but it is only a wish of my arrogance. You are not the only one with the desperate hopes, and I have the worst of all. My wish I know will never be true, for I will never be blessed to ride away in The Eternal Blue, and I will forever suffer in the realm of Erlik. Tamag will be the place I will be thrown into, as I have been burning in the pain of every failure of my mind. My life, the greatest failure through all suns the Earth has seen, for The Sacred Brown and The Merciful Yellow are looking at it with damning resentment.

It was for the tales I was lured by, and yes the tales I heard failed it, but I will always have the hope, Friend. You should not give up on your mind, you should not let your desire for the hope to fade away, you should not underestimate the power of the hope. Why do you think you do not deserve the mercy of your gods, Friend?

It is nevertheless encouraging to be the friend for you again, Rhomaios, for whenever you wanted to call me as such, I crushed your hopes yet again. Your knowledge on my people is immense, yet the meaning of nökör escaped you, and you would be surprised by the truth behind it. But I must return from this gracious feeling, and wonder, if this is again the pity for a miserable, from one otherwise filled with the anger of the many. However your answer is, I will ignore it for now, for I do not deserve such mercy, not from you, and certainly not from Tengri All-Sky. How long has it been, since I was lost in the slumber?

Days, Friend. You closed your eyes to rest only for one, yet at least five days have passed, in the dawn we are speaking, if it is counted.

Did they…?

No, Friend, I was treated well, you do not need to fear. I was genuinely surprised, but I should have known it better, for your baghaturs, your Khishigs, your servants, and more your family, they showed me the highest respect, just as you do, even when you were trembling in your sleeps since days. They provided all the healing herbs in my knowing for you, and all that I never heard of, while I was waiting beside you. However…

However?

Daritai. He was there, too. He did not say a word, but watched you silently. I could not see, and I still cannot tell, whether his eyes were showing the worry of a concerned son, else the enmity of an outraged one. His eyes, his face, his look, he appeared just as the horrors in the tales I heard since the thirty suns I roamed in your realms before I was brought to your presence. He was… terrifying.

Terrifying, yes, and it is my fault. It is the consequence of many tales, some from before, but ensured by one from my age. The tales in the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq, as they shaped my mind who I became to be, their winds stormed the minds of others in my age too.

But Friend, you do not deserve such furore. If the words of your gods damn you, that is not the only end for you, for it is unfair to you. The words of My Lord would help you, for I know they are shining the light of my salvation.

I pitied you, Rhomaios, but now I realise, I should envy you, for being sharp in the mind, yet forsaken from the truth by the absolution you got, so much to drown in the bliss. In that, I am unable. It is suffice to say, I do not seek taking it away from you, but the tales I must resume to tell, they will break you, for they will shatter the core of your being, the mercy of your mind, the grace of your generosity.

Friend, I listened to you, I got furious with you, I cursed on you, for I failed in my anger when I heard the name Chinggis Khan. This was a mistake, almost a sin, and for this I am ashamed of myself. I should not have blamed you for the sins, not belonging to you, but left in the past, for the villainy of the ages before you, for the evil now resides in the old. However you sinned you think, it is understandable, for the tales of your age I do know well, however you made them free of your name, however you banished the Barga fame, but I do know Baigaljin to be benevolent.

This is the misery of your mind, that you suffer for you are believing, Rhomaios. I tell you there are no such saviours in the ones you look for, for you seek it in the hands of the mighty rulers, be it ours else yours. It has many weaknesses, the belief you have, for it is the doom shared by all people, as long as they remain to be followers. One weakness is the lie it is, the untrue, the shadow-veil for the thousands of minds. The other is more sinister, for it persuades the many with the acts of one, and they fall in the hope of happiness, and yet nothing lives forever, Rhomaios. However you would say the death of flesh and the eternity of your soul, else we say the ride of the mind in The Eternal Blue, it does not matter. This is, not true, Rhomaios. You and I both know it, we are not immortals, when the one passes away, the others still breathing, their lives continue in their tales. It may seem the words can make the lost ones immortal, but no, Rhomaios. However I brought the words of Tengri from the mysteries of the tales to speak the sounds on the scrolls and the pedestals, nothing lasts forever. The other weakness, the sinister doom is this, Rhomaios: The gracious rule in my age you see, you hear, you trust, it will end. Just as the name of the Barga I removed from the tales for all, the name of Baigaljin will see the same fate, for it is the ambition of Borchigin all follow now, in that name Daritai is now gathering, opposing whoever I am, whatever I am. It is my grave mistake, it is my cursing damnation, it is my unforgivable sin.

It cannot be, for I do know what I heard, Friend. Your age is resounding with your tales of kindness more than the ones of wrath, even if you forsake your name from them, from all. It is absolutely not comparable to the tales of Chinggis Khan, however they might contain the greatness, they are truly of the evil, but yours are the forbearance.

I told you thousands perished before my eyes, Rhomaios, and you are still in the pursuit of the lie, the enemy of the truth. Never it was the greatness, for thousands died in front of my eyes, be it in the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq, else more in my age, when I was the one leading the Kara Tuğ, when all were following where I rode, and I did nothing for the innocent, I did not stop it, even though I could, for it was in my hands thousands died. Killed, murdered, massacred.

But you are suffering the pain, yet in the knowing you are, for they were the mistakes you did, Friend, you are paying the penance for the crimes you had, you are aware of your sins. You might have read the books of schismatics, Friend, for they dare to say we were born in sins, but they are in the wrong. Our Lord tells us we are the creation of Him, and He created us to live in peace, yet Devil is out, and we are tempted by Its foul acts, thus we sin. Yes, you could have saved thousands, you should have saved them, yet you fell for the lure of the rule, but you did many good deeds. Chinggis Khan might have decreed laws, but you brought the laws of your gods into the books of yours, you banished the slaying of the kin, you forbade the wrath on the ones following gods other than yours, you even freed the tales from the name Barga. You are just lost by the false gods. You only need to ask for forgiveness now. If we return ourselves to the love of the All-Mighty, we can redeem ourselves in His eyes. I know this, for I found the path of salvation. I committed a grave sin, and I was burning in remorse just as you, but Father told me I should confess, to be reborn, to live as Our Lord demands. I did, and I was delivered from evil.

It is amazing, Rhomaios, but now it is for I am losing my patience again, for you are falling from the edge of the truth, into the depths of the bliss. The bliss of your world, and it is opposed by those calling you also schismatics. I do know the words of the both, but I was born with the words of my world, under The Eternal Blue, upon me bestowed the kut of Tengri All-Sky. When the truths of many fight each other, the clash fails the words, for it is solved by arrows and swords. You fail to see the truth, but now we shall disregard this, for it belongs to tales of skies above, they are above the ones I have to tell. The words I spoke are not confessions to redeem my mind, that was not, it is not, this will never be, Rhomaios. Fortunate for you, I am out of the might I dared to claim, however I desire to fight yet more, be it by the words. I gave up struggling in the search for the truth of minds for why we follow others, but your words fire my anger, exhausting my patience yet again. Truly amazing you are, Rhomaios, in the end, trying to save my mind, daring to absolve for who I am. I am beyond that mercy, for I have told you the tales will break you.

I know what I heard before entering your presence, and I heard all the tales told by you. I am not a priest, nor can I absolve you of your sins, but only God All-Mighty can, if you ask for it. Yet I will never give up on my hope for the ones suffering as you, and you are the one suffering the most I have ever seen. Friend, I reject to yield. It is now your round, for you must have realised it by now.

So be it. I told you the words of the tales, but only the ones when The Seeker was yet there with the Bargas.

What happened to her, Friend? How could Chinggis Khan allow whatever happened to her?

When the war over the steppes ended, it was yet to be known, all realms from the white horizon to the blue horizon of Altais to be ruled by Chinggis Khan Ariq, the Bargas would wear no crown. It was the fall of the vision of High King Deryab, and from the ashes of what remained, the vision of Ariq Khan rose. He would bring the doom on the ones following the Kirghiz, but the followers of the Kara Tuğ, the riders behind the Sulde of the Khagan, the peoples of Yekhe Mongol Uls were bestowed with the riches. He was the one to decree, the spoils to be shared fairly. He would continue riding, for they would follow him, but the screams of The Seeker rose against. “You promised, Ariq of the Bargas! You promised! The mistakes of the past shall remain in the dust! You promised!” Only by the words of Sambuu Noyan he was persuaded, for the peace of the Uls to reign, instead of riding to the ends of the world to bring the blue sun and the white doom to all. The Khishigs were loyal to the khan since Ten Suns of War, yet they were the true followers of the words by The Seeker even before his time. Then Rhomaios, the unexpected happened, and Achigh of the Borogchin was the first one to remain silent. It was the first time one of the Four would openly side with Chinggis Khan Ariq, by saying no words, by seeing the unknown in the eyes of him, by riding with him, by remaining ambivalent to the teachings of The Seeker.

Was it because he was granted lands after the war, Friend?

One would see the lure to contemplate such reasons as you ask, Rhomaios, but by the tales I tell, you should be able in finding the truth. Temyulen was the lost mind among the Bargas, contrary to everyone would expect. The Black Tiger had trained many warriors, she had ruled the Borchigin lands during the Ten Suns of War, she was the fire of the hearth for the Bargas, together with Achigh of the Borogchins. Yet, the deaths of Byorte and Bilduu took her from us too, for she could not recover from the pain. She lived, she rode, she spoke, but as a shadow of a mind, not as the fierce woman she was. She needed the sight of soothing forests under snow, the smell of calming springs, the cold of the black, and this was the truth seen by her man, Achigh. He would take care of her, he would carry her duties out in her name, and after the war he would bring his beloved away from the plains of misery to the ends of the Baraba. The granted lands he gladly accepted not as a spoil, but a desperate need for his beloved. In his eyes, Temyulen should be away from the pain for her to be reborn, but more than such, she needed her sisters taken from her.

No one can provide happiness when the need is such impossible, Friend.

Yes, Rhomaios, your words are of the truth. He could never achieve to fulfil that need, no one can, there is no return when the life of one ends in our world, but he could only serve as the sword and the arrow for their khan, to bring the justice, whatever that might be, thus to follow the orders. So rode Achigh of the Borogchins, by the side of Ariq Khan.

It is heart-breaking, Friend, to lose the support of the closest ones in life. More to it, it must have been troubling for The Seeker, did it not?

Yes, Rhomaios, but it also caused the remaining Khishigs to be more protective for The Seeker, for Saran the Restless Heron would urge her man to be on his greatest attention, thus closed Dergun of the Hokhots the circle around The Seeker for every other else. Kubasar of the Sartlans would be following her steps wherever she went, even when she was addressing her khan. Her words would be heard thanks to the riders sent by Inancha of the Old tengris. Yet, Achigh of the Borogchins made his decision to remain silent when The Seeker said her words opposing the khan. However, Rhomaios, Kün Ana chases Ay Ata, a new day the world sees when a night fades, the tales do not emerge from a couple of minds, but they are born from the many.

What do you mean, Friend? Do you mean others… No. Kublai Darqan, and Aldar Noyan, it must be what you mean.

Yes, Rhomaios, it seems the days I had to rest for also worked for your mind, to hear the sounds of the words of the tales beyond the bliss and the anger one would have. Aldar Noyan the Tempest could not accept the peace in his thundering mind, but the ferocity can be extinguished when it meets a mightier fury. However, Kublai Darqan was not as such, for he was satisfied with he had, the lands of the sacred, the mountains of the ancestors, and his riders of the loyal, thus his need for justice was the righteous. His mind was the ever-changing towards his khan, for his brother would say the words to promise the justice he desired, but the vision of Ariq Khan was far greater than that, the vision to rule would best the needs of others. That is the nature of ruling, Rhomaios, for it is Kün Ana chases Ay Ata, after every night of the world, there comes a new day. However it was Sambuu Noyan to persuade all, in the eyes of Kublai Darqan, Ariq Khan would listen to The Seeker to live in the peace of the Uls, and for him that was unacceptable.

I remember, I remember the roars of Aldar Noyan, for it was frightening to the minds of those not had seen many suns, but it was nothing for one daring to stare at the stars despite the gathering wolves. “I cannot stand here, when that filth breathes, whereas my sisters are away forever. My only consolation is knowing them riding in The Eternal Blue, but hear my words Ariq my khan, Ariq my brother: Crushing the Kirghiz does not sooth my pain, yet you even let that bastard of Erlik-breed breathe, you let that spawn of damned blood flee, you let that cursed Deryab live! I want the peace for my mind, as our kin do, but for lowly pathetic reasons they silence their words, and they remain in the steppes! I know you do want it, you do know the guilty must see the punishment, you do desire it, my brother Ariq, the mighty and the just Ariq Khan, the great and the one true khan!”

But Friend, Chinggis Khan had already dismissed his brother Aldar, had he not?

Yes, Rhomaios, he did, and I told you, The Tempest could not be tamed, and I told you yet again, not every other could see the vision of Chinggis Khan Ariq. To rule, one should listen, and only then one could know when to ride, else to rest; and Rhomaios, he had the gracious mind, the strong trust, the benevolent hope. Yet agreeing the words of Sambuu Noyan could not save them from the greater conflict, but only delay it, for it was The Seeker trying to prevent them from riding, that was in the eyes of every other seen, in the ears heard, in the minds known. The vision to rule all, Rhomaios, that requires the brilliance of the mind, to know for all when to ride, else for all to rest, and his was the greatest. Chinggis Khan Ariq knew what he had to say.

What did he say to The Tempest, Friend?

I remember, I remember all of them, for I also had to hear them with all. “You do speak mean, Aldar my brother, and your words are of the truth! But the words of The Seeker have the wisdom you lack. If her words anger you, then I remind you the words of Sambuu our brother, for the Kirghiz is no more, and we must rest for the goodness of ezens to fill our minds, to cure our pain, to heal our wounds after the war. Are you not aware, else you should listen, for I am certain you will hear the suffering of all, for we are still mourning.”

The words of Ariq Khan were as I told, but The Tempest could not be tamed, Rhomaios, for he would unleash his anger. “You will not ride any more, is that what you say Ariq my brother? Cries of Temyulen, screams of Kublai, hear my roar Tengri All-Sky! I want the blood of the guilty! No, I will not listen! I will not listen to The Seeker, I will not listen to Sambuu!”

Upon hearing the yells of a sibling, one would stand against with even louder scream, for siblings share the womb, they share the life, they share the pain and the joy, and yet, Rhomaios, they were not any others, for it was Aldar Noyan The Tempest, but he was facing Chinggis Khan Ariq. The words of the one true khan followed, and they were the ice storms of frozen-winters, the fire storms of nightmare-summers: “You will listen when Your Khan speaks until all words are exhausted.” Those hearing as he spoke could not even breathe at that moment, for his eyes were fixed, staring at his brother: “I never told I would stop riding, for I will never stop, for I will forever ride to bring the justice for the ones taken from all, Aldar my brother, for I called all to gather for the tales to be one for all, to bring the peace for the coming days. You are my brother, Aldar, but I am Your Khan. You may not be satisfied with the end of the Kirghiz reign, but I do not need the filthy blood of Deryab, for I have not one, but more foes to punish. Do you see it, Aldar my brother, do you see the crimes of the ill-breed, the insanity of The Flayer, and will you let Kün Ana and Ay Ata shine upon Belek Darqan? I see it, and I say it, the lands he roams, they are ours to rule, yet he is still there, plundering and marauding, pillaging and murdering. Your words are not bearable, for they resound as if you would challenge a brother, you would defy a khan. Yet, I am not any sibling, I am not any khan, for you are my brother, Aldar, and my mind have the love for you. Do you see the mind I have, do you want to defy my words again, else do you desire the justice, as my mind is storming in that, for our sisters were taken away from us forever, not by just one, but by many foes? What say you, Aldar, do you follow my rule, do your arrows shriek for my mind, do you ride by my side?”

When the words ended, the silence reigned in the ordo, but the eyes of the one true khan were of the lightning. Through those, no one could see it, but few. Aldar Noyan would only catch a glimpse of it. However Rhomaios, I saw those eyes, never to forget, ever to remember, lightning with the enormous blasts of the determined mind.

What was it, what did you see in his eyes, Friend?

The vision, Rhomaios, the vision of the unknown place, in the unknown day, for the unknown mind, to rule all. Yet, it was not only I, but the lightning in those eyes was truly seen but by one other.

Who was it, Friend?

Phongma.

Note on the link Phongma: Chelsea Wolfe - Feral Love - from the album Pain is Love - 2013

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Dec 14, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XIV

The Last of the Tuvans

Phongma was the follower of the words by The Seeker, by the tales you told, I do understand Friend, thus what she saw in those eyes must have frightened her.

Frightened? The Bear? You are lost in the mistaken-mind, the words eluded their meanings for you, the tales are escaping from you, Rhomaios. No, she was not afraid, but what she saw made her to decide. She could never follow the storm.

But Friend, I do remember your words, and what I know of them, I can say Phongma would never abandon the side of Chinggis Khan, for their love was eternal.

Yes, Rhomaios, her love for her man was eternal, and her mind was feral in the love, yet not only for him, but more for others. You should know it, for I already told you in the tales.

But… No. The children.

Yes, Rhomaios. They are what we all beings live for, to bring our tales to them. The eyes of Chinggis Khan Ariq were of lightning, but those of Phongma the Bear were ever vigilant, never to miss, forever to ready, and it was more since that day when the Bargas heard the crying screams of Temyulen for the demise of their sisters. If even the Bargas could not reach their kin to protect them, then it would mean she had to be more on her guard than before. This never affected her mind, for she would always share all her love with her children, she would never falter in loving them, she would never yield to protect them. Yet, Rhomaios, she would use any opportunity to provide the children the freedom of the days, the joy of the sun, the fragrance of the nights, the tranquillity of the moon, while guarding and protecting, watching and nurturing, riding and living. I remember, I remember all the days and the nights, for she would provide those for the children to enjoy, even after the darkest days of the Bargas. Yet, she would even see through her slumber, to wake up and to run, to reach her child to protect against the wolves in the dark of the night. Phongma the Bear was as such, and she saw the lightning in those eyes, of the one true khan her immortal beloved was, and it was shuddering, summoning all her foresight, bringing all her vigilance, for she saw what would happen in that vision. Thus was ordered, for she decided, to bring the children away to the white of the Altais, whereas the ordo would finish its resting, to ride to invade, to conquer the mountains of Tannu, to end the villainy of Belek Darqan the Flayer.

But Friend, this would mean, she did not ride with Chinggis Khan for the war to come, would it not?

Yes, Rhomaios. So did Phongma the Bear ride, along with Saran the Restless Heron, bringing all children of the Bargas to the lands of Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak, in the white of the Altais, to keep them away from the wars to come. And Rhomaios, she was in the right, for her mind was ever vigilant, and the fortune was on her side.

Friend, what did The Seeker do, when it was decided to invade the lands of Tannu?

The Seeker did what she could do, Rhomaios, to prevent the horrors of the old, to heal the wounds of the past, thus rode she with her khan and his ordo, for hers was the determined mind too. She could not stop the ride of the storm, for it was true, the crimes of Belek Darqan the Flayer were in the steps of Erlik, for it was not only to bring the justice for the Barga sisters, for The Flayer had killed and tortured, ravaged and devastated, caused immeasurable, intolerable, unbearable pains not only for the Bargas, but for the lives of the many. She could say nothing to challenge the decision, but she would use every skill of her mind, all strength of her mind, any word of her mind, to save all from falling off the grace of justice into the doom of revenge.

Friend, I can only see the wrathful lying in the words of Chinggis Khan, even though I understand the need for justice against The flayer, for you told they were his evil crimes in causing such suffering upon the many, not only the Bargas. Friend, it is obvious of the tale you are speaking, Chinggis Khan did use the trust of The Seeker only to betray her words, but avoiding any challenge.

Yes, Rhomaios, now you are closer to understand the truth, whereas your sentiment for believing in the existence of saviours clouds your mind yet again. You do not want to accept it, for your rulers else others’, you claim there is the greatness if benevolence, but this is the fall of your judgement, for you are the blind-minded. This was the brilliance of the mind, for Chinggis Khan Ariq tamed The Tempest, while silencing any words of The Seeker, for she could not ignore the villainous crimes of The Flayer. This was his way, Rhomaios, for his was the greatest mind, but yes Rhomaios, I did not approve just as you do not, however different our reasons are.

But… But Friend, I am tired of trying, yet I want to once again say it, I do not have the inherent enmity towards your kind, as my people have for you so you claim, and –

Spare me your struggle, Rhomaios. Even if you accept us as beings just as your kind, there is the difference between you and I in the minds, for you are the one in the bliss of the beliefs. You still trust in your desperate hope, there could be, there can be, there will be saviours, among the ones ruling others. No, Rhomaios, there is not. It does not matter any more, for I have to tell all tales I remember, before it is too late, and I will cease to be.

Then I should not tire your mind any more, Friend, but I can only ask: What happened in the war for Tannu lands?

Chinggis Khan Ariq rode with his tümen to the hills of Tannu, as if a thunder from Ülgen, surrounding and forcing all tribes following The Flayer to yield, for his was the greatest mind. Aldar Noyan led another tümen, as if a tempest from Ülgen, eradicating any riders showing even a bit of resistance, for his was the glorious valour. Any herder to surrender, any rider to yield, their lives would be spared, for The Seeker was always there, her tales were in the minds of the riders, the Four Khishigs would ride from one tümen to another, they would deliver the serenity of words to all. The words of fights, the words of battles, the words of the war flew as if Burkut itself, for they reached the lands of Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak, through the örtöös in the steppes, how the riders would clash, how Chinggis Khan Ariq would share the most spoils with every one of them, for all remaining Bargas would hear the fairness in them.

It was the warming shine of the spring, the war of the Kirghiz was already in the old, but the war of The Flayer was ongoing, and we were the children of the Bargas, Rhomaios, enjoying the freedom of the days, the joy of the sun, the fragrance of the nights, the tranquillity of the moon. One would hear the laughter of Sambuu on that day, for he would embrace his beloved woman, while watching over the children trying their strength against horses of the wild. Saran would guide them how to use the stirrups, Phongma would ride her horse from afar, but her eyes were always on them, and others would herd the cattle. I remember, I remember all of them, for it was the last day I know I was the happiest of the bliss, racing against my siblings, fighting them, laughing with them. Then I saw the horses, riding from afar, bearing the sulde of Kublai Darqan, reaching the steppes. You may know those plains now by the name Kaytargan lands.

I have been there, Friend, but I feel it has been ages now.

Yes, Rhomaios, I know you have been there.

What was it, Friend, for Kublai Darqan reached with his riders, what did he want, what words did he bring?

He ordered his riders to rest and to supply for the coming days, but without saying for what end. Phongma arrived no later than he reached, and Kublai Darqan greeted Khatun of the Mongols. His words were lost in the winds, but I understood he wanted to meet Sambuu.

Why was Sambuu there, Friend, but not with his brother Aldar, riding with Chinggis Khan?

It was the love in the life, Rhomaios, what he was seeking, for Sambuu would prefer the peace of the mind, not the clash of the swords, not the shrieks of arrows, not the agonising screams of dying people. Yet, he would never shy away from wars, for he was always there when his brother Chinggis Khan Ariq asked him, and the world had to end for Sambuu not to ride with Aldar, unthinkable it was. Aldar and Sambuu shared their joy and suffering together, since they were born from the same womb, they survived the age of their father together, so much as twins, yet never could be, but unlike Temyulen and Byorte, they were blessed with the fortune, for they rode together, by different reasons yet with the same love for each other. I could never understand it, for I was forsaken from such bonding with my own siblings, despite we had our love in our minds for each other. It was not, none could be, as the bond between Sambuu and Aldar. Yet, Rhomaios, by the demise of their sisters, and by the war against the Kirghiz, Sambuu was shaken, despite never showing, thus did he remain back in the Kaytargan steppes, while Aldar was roaring in his tempest. Sambuu would still ride, I can only assume, but Aldar did not ask, for he could not wait to punish the foe, whoever, whatever, however it was. Thus did Aldar Noyan the Tempest ride with Chinggis Khan Ariq, without even waiting any words from Sambuu Noyan. Thus was he there, and Kublai Darqan rode from Buryatia to speak with him. They spoke very brief, but I never heard the words of them, yet I did understand, what Kublai Darqan said, did end the joyous laughter of Sambuu Noyan. The sun began her descend, and the day succumbed to yellowish red, we started to gather, there were yurts to bring closer, firing the hearth to feel warmer, preparing the food to enjoy. They continued to talk, however, and they retired to a different fire, far from the yurts, pursuing the veil of intimate secrecy, away from the crowd of people. Yet, Rhomaios, for a curious one, such precaution is insufficient.

Did you have a chance to know what they talked about, Friend?

Had you had the chance to ask Tuyana the Moon Sable, to learn how one can listen to the others, when they are far and secluded, but without ever being noticed, she would answer readily: “Always prefer to approach from behind, but when it is not possible, never afraid of the ones talking around a fire in the dark, for the fire is not the enemy of a hiding listener, for everyone else will be distracted by it, for they will not see the darkness beyond. Do not forget, the fire is the greatest lover, for it has the shadow as its child from whatever its light reaches, but do not surrender all your trust to it, and keep your distance.” But I suppose, Rhomaios, you are already blessed with such knowledge.

Yes… Yes, Friend, you do not need to mention my petty skills. Were you able, Friend, did you approach them without being seen, did you hear what they spoke of?

Yes, Rhomaios, I was able to catch the heated argument between the two brothers, away from their families and kin. Kublai Darqan was trying to persuade his brother, with the words of snakes: “Then you have no desire for retribution, is that what you say, Sambuu?” The brash sound of the voice still resounds in my ears, when I close my eyes, as if it was yesterday.

Sambuu would smile, but his cold eyes would brush off the accusation hidden in the words of his brother: “I do not need to listen to you, blaming my decision, for you have suffered. I suffered, Kublai my brother, we suffered. I miss Byorte, I miss Bilduu. I still miss Bukha, if you have forgotten him, I should remind you: The father was looking as you do now, but at least his words were never to be heard, yet his mind was ever beastlier. A beast of Erlik.”

To any Barga sibling it would be reason to fight, even to draw a sword, Rhomaios, for those words were the most hurting, but it was Kublai, for it was the calming sea of Baikal in his mind. His answer came in the mild sound, and I was amazed how he resembled their older brother, when he answered: “Sambuu my brother, I do miss them, for that is the reason I am here with you, sitting before you, speaking to you. I miss Bukha too, and you do not need to bleed my mind by reminding him. That happened in the age of our father, and he did what he could do best; he avenged his son. Let his mind away from us, for he is riding in the eternal sky. But Sambuu my brother, hear my words: Our sisters were taken from us, in our age, and we do sit here, idle and talking, while Ariq and Aldar are riding.

Fortunate for us, that witch of the words is with them. Unfortunate for us, they are hunting down only the filth, the cursed Belek, let his mind be devoured by ezens. But why, Sambuu my brother, why do we not get our justice from the ones that are truly responsible of the crimes against us? Belek the shit of oxen deserves what is coming for him, yet he was not the master of that villainy, but only a haran in it. Why do we sit here, idle and talking, while the rotten Buyana is still living in her wretched peace in Tuva? And what more, why are we still not passing the Altais, not riding to the red of Gobi?” Those were the last words I heard, for I was afraid, thus did I retreat from the fire.

But what happened, Friend, did Sambuu agree with Kublai in the end? Did they ride together, in their mind to bring the justice, but for the mind daring to question, they would be only seeking the revenge for their pain?

Your understanding is improving by every question, Rhomaios, showing the sharpness of the mind. Yes, they did ride together, for Kublai Darqan persuaded his brother, Sambuu Noyan declared he would fight Buyana Khanum daughter of Aydin.

How could it be? Why would Sambuu agree to this, without ever asking their khan, Friend?

I can only give the words of my mind, for I never had the chance to ask, Rhomaios. I can only assume, the demise of their sisters was devastating, but Sambuu Noyan also remembered Bukha of the Bargas, yet better than anyone. It was told they were closer than any other sibling, despite being the sons of different mothers. Those words of his brother reminding the age before them, the age of destruction and doom, the loss of the sibling seen not more than ten suns, those might have shaken him once again, for Kublai Darqan succeeded to gain his support. May be he saw the sight of Bukha in the eyes of Kublai, so did he have the fortune to ride with the lost brother of theirs, reviving his younger days with him, just as they were, and then again together they could be, the son of The Warrior of the Red, and the son of The Shaman of the White.

But the other Bargas were there, what did they do, Friend? Did they not warn them, prevent them riding, stop them fighting?

Yes, Rhomaios, but first to oppose was Phongma the Bear, for she saw their preparation in the following morning, and she did not approve. “You were ordered to rest, you were ordered to lead the cattle and the remaining tümens, you were ordered to stand and guard the back, Sambuu Noyan of the Bargas. You, Kublai Darqan, you were supposed to be riding in the mountains of Buryatia, for the irgens are looking for your lead. Where are you riding now, donning your armours, arming yourselves with swords and bows, gathering your riders and arrows?” Unfortunate for them, for us, for everyone, Kublai Darqan would not listen to her, and his words hissed at the Khatun of the Mongols, defying her rule, declining her questions, rejecting her warnings. This was the grave mistake of Kublai Darqan, Rhomaios, not only in the eyes of the others was it seen, in the minds of the others was it known, but it was in my eyes and in my mind realised too, that was the moment I knew whom to trust, whom to despise. But Sambuu would remain without any words, with his magnificent smile, yet with his freezing eyes bringing the snows of all ages known to all, as if begging Phongma not to say any words more, for he did not want to challenge the khatun, yet his desire to ride to remedy the pain they had was absolute. I saw that look, for I knew at that moment, his mind was truly persuaded by his brother, he would ride to avenge their sisters, leaving no possibility for the justice. He would not even be deterred by the words of the children, yet he was still strong enough to share his laughter, for his was the joyous mind, understanding the needs of the young ones, Rhomaios. “Why do you worry? I will return in the blink of an eye, do you know why? For I can never close my eyes for the eternity, before kissing my women one more time. And do you know, I can never miss the delight, for I will return in the flash of the moment, then we will ride together through the steppes and the mountains, I will teach you how to count the stars but quicker than others, I will be there to teach you herding the sheep. Wash your tears now, and enjoy the day!” Those were the words of him, and he kissed his beloved, mounted his horse, waved his hand, and he rode away with Kublai Darqan.

Friend, I have to ask. Did they… Were they… Did they not return?

Not before the ordo of Chinggis Khan Ariq, Rhomaios. Phongma the Bear sent her riders, carrying the words of the anger, ordering her khan to meet them in the Kaytargan steppes. I demand your return Ariq. End your ride chasing down the filth, for your family needs your lead. Those were the words she sent with riders of örtöös. When a khan orders, baghaturs do it, Rhomaios. When a khanum orders, a khan does it. Chinggis Khan Ariq received the words, halted his riders, for Belek Darqan the Flayer was ever elusive in Tannu mountains. They declared victory, but in the mind of worry, the tümens rode to the white of the Altais in the hurry. When the Bargas met in the Kaytargan steppes, fierce words were hurled at each other, while The Seeker was drowning in the ominous mind of the failure. She was able in watching over the conquests of the one true khan, but she could not reach everyone. Ariq sent his riders to scout, to learn where their brothers were, to call them back, to demand their answers for riding by their own minds without asking their brother, Khan of the Bargas, Khagan of Yekhe Mongol Uls.

Thus did they return, Rhomaios. Kublai Darqan was leading the riders, yet not all, but what remained of them. Buyana Khanum was ever the fierce mind, and her riders were masters of the plains, of the hills, of the mountains in Tuva, they shattered the riders of the Bargas. When they heard the words, families of harans and of irgens rode to Kaytargan steppes as well, reaching the plains, looking for their loved ones in the remaining band, running towards the survived yet wounded ones when they could, alas, many of them started their mourning for the fallen ones. The screams of sorrow rose to the skies.

Sambuu returned too, Rhomaios. His legs were crushed, his left arm was broken, his chest was rapid in his breathing, his face was slashed. He was covered in the blood, sloppily cleaned by others on the way, but he was still smiling. He was still smiling, Rhomaios. He did kiss his beloved as he promised. Feeling the pain with every breath, yet he would never turn away the crying eyes of the children, he was still trying to talk them, while all was tending to his wounds. He did say yet again, with his warming smile, with his piercing eyes of the ice: “I told you I would return. Why do you worry, I have seen worse, a bit of blood, do not fear, for it is the water of life, a bit of wool, then it will stop. No, do not cry. Let me rest for a while, then we will go to look for better horses, faster, more beautiful, for my dear old one is now in the eternal sky. Come later at night, then we will look high, we will find where my horse is among the stars.”

I understand now, Friend. At least he could return, however wounded.

…

Chinggis Khan must have been furious, Friend, seeing the failure of his brothers, and after defying his rule.

Your words may hold the truth, Rhomaios, but what I saw was the lightning of all ages in his eyes. Regardless, it was the moment of deafness, it was the fading of words, it was the end of peace.

But The Seeker was there, was she not Friend? She must have –

The first to speak was Kublai Darqan, Rhomaios, but his words were lingering, buried under the guilt, mixed in the mist, yet the arrogance of his righteous mind made his head revel in the sky. His eyes would not yield, yet his was the blind-minded, even if he had the fortune to have a vision, he could never see it completely, the lightning in the eyes of Chinggis Khan Ariq. When the one true khan cut the words of his brother in, the silent were the others. “You did ride without asking my rule, you did ride without listening to my words, you did ride without seeking my mind, Kublai my brother. Now I am looking at one brother, trying to conjure words to explain, and another brother, covered in blood.” Kublai was able in gaining his courage, thus could he respond louder and ever audacious: “Are you going to blame me, under this sun of Kün Ana, under the sky of Tengri the Eternal Blue, instead of our foes, for they took our sisters from us, for they mauled our brother now? Is this true, My Khan?”

How did Chinggis Khan respond, Friend? What did he say to Kublai Darqan?

A storm roars with thunders, blasts with lightnings, sweeps all on its path with its unforgiving wrath, whether you hear it, else it is silent, but that is for it deafens all ears, it blinds all eyes to see, it shuts all minds to think, Rhomaios. The moment was imminent, and he, Chinggis Khan Ariq, looked at the tümens of riders, he looked at the Four Khishigs, he looked at the baghaturs, he looked at the kin, he looked at his family. Then, Rhomaios, he turned his back, he started to walk towards his horse.

He did agree with Kublai Darqan?? But this would mean, Friend –

Yes, Rhomaios, The Seeker was there, and she was first to see what was happening, for hers was the determined mind, to prevent the doom before it was coming. “No! No! NO! You said in your words, Ariq of the Bargas! Your words hold your promise, for everyone heard them! Your brothers fought, however they were in the wrong, but they were defeated! The fair of the sword, the just of the arrow, Buyana Khanum have bested their efforts! The law of the steppes, the rule of the one true khan, the peace of the words must prevail! You had agreed with my mind! You cannot ride now for more, Ariq of the Bargas, for it would bring only eternal worry, never-ending misery, ever-happening agony!” But it was too late, Rhomaios, and when Kublai Darqan did see what his brother ruled, what he chose, what Chinggis Khan Ariq decided, he lashed out his anger against The Seeker: “You do not speak now witch! Enough of your words! Your words hold no wisdom, when our kin bleeds, our people are mourning, our minds are in the sorrow!” After his enraged words, Kublai Darqan pushed The Seeker, thus did she fall on the ground. It was a moment of distraction for the Four Khishigs, but they were quick enough to cover The Seeker, their hands ready on the swords, helping The Seeker to rise again, guarding her against the darqan.

What did happen then, Friend? Hearing this, what did Chinggis Khan do, Friend?!

He stopped, and he looked back at them. Aldar Noyan, silent for the day, furious in his mind, then fired up by the words and the fight, he was about to act, for The Seeker was still his woman regardless of the words, regardless of the tales, regardless of the kurultais and the war and the sorrows they endured, but he was held by the hand of Chinggis Khan Ariq on his breast armour. He did not even look at Aldar, for his eyes were fixed at The Seeker, yet with the storms of lightning, seeing the unknown place, on the unknown day, for the unknown mind. At that moment, Rhomaios, The Seeker was frozen. At that moment, Rhomaios, all Bargas there saw the meaning. At that moment, Rhomaios, baghaturs started to walk towards their horses, silent and determined. The riders had already prepared their mounts, swords, and bows. The arrows had been already counted. The horses had been already saddled.

The Seeker was looking back at Chinggis Khan Ariq, with eyes of demanding, ordering, angering, begging, asking for wisdom, looking for mercy, and then Rhomaios, out of the Four Khishigs, Achigh of the Borogchins stepped back, he walked towards his horse. Saran the Restless Heron held the arm of her man, and Dergun of the Hokhots stood still, before even trying to stop Achigh. Kubasar of the Sartlans and Inancha of the Old tengris remained with The Seeker. So did it happen Rhomaios, thus were the Khishigs separated.

Chinggis Khan Ariq released the breast armour of Aldar Noyan, Kublai Darqan joined them, and the brothers walked towards their horses together. When Chinggis Khan Ariq mounted, he looked back at the remaining, seeing the crying eyes of The Seeker, seeing the tears of not pain, but anger, seeing the worried looks of others. He looked at Phongma the Bear, and said, but I knew the words were roaring in his mind: “Send the riders of örtöös. Call them to ride for the Kara Tuğ. Call them. All of them.”

All of them…? All of them??

All of them, Rhomaios. All six tümens of Yekhe Mongol Uls. Chinggis Khan Ariq rode with all riders of six tümens, to fight Buyana Khanum daughter of Aydin, to hunt for the last of the Tuvans.

Note on the link the last of the Tuvans: Trevor Jones & Randy Edelman - Sachem's Decision/Alice & Uncas/Magua's Death - from the soundtrack of The Last of the Mohicans - 1992
(Track#39 of Complete Score, otherwise Track#40 (Final Confrontation) of Expanded Original Motion Picture Score, 2006)

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Dec 21, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XV

The Path

Days are shortening, Rhomaios, for I know it is not the sun I was expecting, after the last words I uttered, I closed my eyes to regain my ezens.

Friend, your health is frightening every other, for they were here for you, running in the worry, tending you desperately, begging Tengri for your recovery. Why did you order them to leave? Now you have summoned me to your presence, I should tell you they –

For how long was I away in the deepest sea of sleep? How many days has it been?

Friend, they told me you should rest more, instead of exhausting your mind, speaking the words of the tales from the sun to the moon, without getting the rest you certainly need. They are in the fear for your mind, for your vigour, for your life.

I asked for how long it has been, speak true!

Days, Friend, more than tens of days it has been since you closed your eyes, but you should not be in despair, for your people never lost the hope for you, but they are –

Then I should resume to tell what I remember, for the end is nigh. All I wish is to tell the words of true, for you to listen, for you to deliver them for the coming days.

Friend, I… I should not tire your mind, thus I will resume as you wish. Why would Chinggis Khan ride against Buyana Khanum, with all the might he mustered under the sky? I do know he had no mind in the mercy, for he was the evil of nightmares beyond any other’s mind, but did he not find it at least against his honour, to prey on the weak, to fight against the few, to hunt for the vulnerable? You told me Buyana of the Tuvans had already thwarted the Bargas, yet again she had to defend her lands against the riders of Yekhe Mongol Uls?

So be it, Rhomaios, so be it. I wish I could say it is you exhausting my patience, but no Rhomaios, it is I, who cannot wait for the fortune of the good, the day to act, to night to sleep. I was never able, despite fighting against it for all my life. Just as you are, I am another one troubled in the mind, Rhomaios. Just as you hide your mind behind the words of your God, the absolution you received but it is only to cover your wrath.

Friend, I do not deserve this. I did not say any word to anger you. I –

You are asking how the mighty could ride over the weak, for you are still the ill-knowing. The wars are always fought against the weak, Rhomaios, there is none such battle against all fortune you have. Tell me Rhomaios, what happened to the sacred city of your realms, what happened in the nine hundred and ninety fourth age of your Lord?

Friend, it was the Holy War of the Faithful you are speaking of, is it not? But how could you hear of its tale, so far beyond the sea?

It is pathetic to waste the questions for such, Rhomaios, for I do have scouts and messengers, seers and listeners, spies and traders, wanderers and tale-bringers, just as you, struggling to bring any sound, any word, any tale from one sea to the other at the end of the world. I will answer my question for you, for it was the priest-king of Rome, screaming his cry, calling for all followers of your Iesous-tengri, for the might of your God, for the glory of their realm, and they marched to the sacred city of yours, of your people, of your God. His opponent was the high-king of Arabs, yet he could not muster even a couple of mingghans. Was it not, Rhomaios, were they not, was he not? Tell me, speak true!

They were… They were answering the call of faith… But Friend! What you say was the act of the schismatics, enemies of the true book, pretenders to our realm, for our Basileus, our Patriarch, our words were already fighting against them!

How could you persuade yourself, after hearing your own words, for it is amazing to me, Rhomaios.

I… I…

So be it. You were never a ruler, holding the might in your hands, leading the people to whatever ends your mind has. I tell you, Rhomaios, the words of wars are woven in the glorious tales, yet they are the lies of obvious. You can know it only when you ride with thousands against thousands, for they are fought with the opportunity of fortune, for they are the vile acts of kings and khans, Basileis and Khagans, for they are the harbingers of doom for all fallen on the battlefields, for all waiting their beloved ones from the battlefield. You are the ill-knowing, yours is the blind-mind, you have the eyes of unaware. Some of them do fight and prevail, they tell the tales for all to rule them all. Some of them do not want it, some cannot even fight, yet they still do find any tale for all to follow them, telling them the war comes for them. There are the others, riding into the wars with the blood in the eyes, and there are others, enjoying the screams of others as they fall on the battlefields. All of them are such, Rhomaios, none of them are your saviours, they will never be, we will never be, and I was never such.

Chinggis Khan Ariq was all of them Rhomaios, yet his was the brilliant of the mind, for his mind was in the vision determined, to rule them all, all breathing under the eternal sky. Unfortunate for you, his was the storm to soar in the eternal sky, and Rhomaios, fortunate for you, his was the world only known to him, never hearing about you, only until the very end of him. The world known to him was the steppes of Mongolia, the plains of Khitan, the mountains of Altais. He ruled the steppes, he conquered the plains, but the mountains were held, even though the high King Deryab was no more a threat. Remaining were Buyana Khanum of the Tuvans, and Kuchuguden Darqan of the Guchuguds, but Rhomaios, life cannot be drawn on the ground, beings cannot be shown as stones, wars cannot be fought by wishes and orders. Chinggis Khan Ariq knew it, for his was the sharpest mind to see it, by ordering six tümens he was able in only securing the trust of others following the words of Kublai Darqan. Yet Rhomaios, he also knew it, for his was the greatest mind to realise it, not all would follow him, not all could pass those peaks, not all were even able to survive the winters while fighting in the mountains. Only three tümens answered his call, but that was enough for him to hunt for Buyana Khanum.

I understand, Friend, now my mind grasps what you mean.

I hope you do, Rhomaios, but it is too late to recover my patience to you, for now I know how relentless is your mind. This does not matter, by the end of it, you will abide, but I cannot help you, for the tales will break you. A wish of arrogance, for the tales to be delivered to the coming days.

You do not need to be such, Friend. You are not the cruel mind as you see yourself. I will brave myself. I have the faith in My Lord. I will prevail.

You should look into the mirror, to see your mind and what it tells you about yourself, Rhomaios. Chinggis Khan Ariq did it, but his was the fearless mind, for he was the only Barga sibling, able in defying their father, while following him. When his age came, his was the fear, his was the love, thus was he able, thus could he understand, thus would he accept it. He rode with six tümens, arriving at the hills of Tuva with only three, for it was the choice of the brilliant mind.

I hesitate to ask, for I can presume how it fared, but… What happened in the war against the Tuvans, Friend?

When the truth challenges the ambitions of the visions, the numbers reveal the exact end of them, Rhomaios. None of the warriors fighting for Buyana Khanum survived, but five. She was able to fight yet without falling, she had to ride from Tuva, passing the mountains of Tannu, retreating to Ulaangom, sending the words of her surrender, relinquishing her rule over the mountains.

Did Chinggis Khan chase her after she retreated? Did he not resume to ride? Were there not the others, for he was never alone? Friend, what did the others say?

Your questions are pursuing the truth, Rhomaios. He did not resume, for it was the summer, the riders had to rest, and yet Chinggis Khan Ariq knew, it was not only the boons of the nature for him to ride with six tümens, yet not all of them but only three. The Seeker would never yield to prevent the misery spreading over ages, for she was the one to persuade others to hesitate. Yet there was the Kublai Darqan, able in building the castle of righteousness in his mind, making all to follow the path of his justice. It was never the justice, Rhomaios, for the blade cannot provide the fair rule, for the arrow cannot give the peaceful mind all beings strive for. They can only silence the words, they can only shatter the minds, they can only end the dreams. Despite the anger was shared, Chinggis Khan Ariq would know it, for it was their father already did it, and he achieved none but white doom to happen, he caused none but blue sun to dawn. Yet his son's was the mind with the vision, his son's was the right to rule all Rhomaios. Do you see it, Rhomaios, what Basileis and Khagans do, for they are able to know how others would follow them? No more words I can conjure to explain it, yet only the tales we have, only the names remain. It should not be as such, thus I removed them from the tales. It was not enough, Rhomaios, the misery I could not prevent. Even The Seeker could not do it, for it was the end of the wars she expected, yet riders from Kaytargan reached.

Who were they, Friend? What did they do, the riders you said?

They brought the words from Kaytargan steppes, Rhomaios, for they were led by Phongma the Bear, for she was the only one able to bring those ill tidings, the end of the tales, ushering the song of the storm never to end.

Friend, was that for… No…

I told you Rhomaios, I had to learn to count the stars but quickly, yet by myself for there was no one left to teach. Saran the Restless Heron would still help to ride, Phongma the Bear would still show how to fight, yet the stars I was also curious for, and I saw and I counted and I learnt their names, yet by myself.

I am sorry for you are in the pain, Friend. I wish… I wish I could muster words to ease your suffering.

No, Rhomaios, you do not need to. Beware for whom you are feeling sorry. When Phongma reached the ordo of riders, bringing the family behind her, all were in the sorrow unable to speak, only she could mount off her horse. Ariq had received only the words of her departure, yet he awaited the band to arrive, only then he emerged from his yurt, thus did their eyes lock on each other. Her eyes were telling him to embrace the pain, but she saw in those eyes were the lightning. The Seeker reached there, but not before Kublai Darqan understanding the meaning of the silence. When he succumbed to his own remorse in the faraway corners of the mind, The Seeker was in the hurry, for she had to find Aldar, for she had to speak to him, for she had to prevent the horror to come, once he would hear the demise of his brother.

Did she succeed, Friend?

No, Rhomaios. Aldar Noyan the Tempest had already arrived from his morning ride, then he saw the arriving riders, then he saw Phongma Khatun mounting off but without any words, and then Rhomaios, he howled. Aldar Noyan, howling in madness, growling in pain, screaming in cries, calling for Tengri All-Sky: “Tengri be my witness, Tengri be my strength, Tengri be my guide! I will not sleep until I find, for the murderers of Sambuu will never ride!” The Seeker was too late, Rhomaios, she could not sooth the already crushing pain, for The Tempest was in the path of rage, none different but resembling their father.

But what did Chinggis Khan do, Friend?

He embraced her, for he needed the love of Phongma, yet she knew Rhomaios, this was not what he strove for, for he was the Khan of the Bargas, he was the Khagan of Mongolia, he was the storm never to cease until all bent their knees. She knew that, while the others were already preparing. The storm would soar, Rhomaios, and it did.

I do not know what I can say, how to use the words to ask, what to speak to understand. Friend, you said there was The Seeker, watching over them was her wisdom of the skies. There were the Bargas desiring the justice yet falling into the insanity of vengeance, else the followers of the tales by The Seeker, to heal and to live in peace, to close the wounds and to ride for peace in the coming days. How could they follow Chinggis Khan altogether? How could this happen?

Rhomaios, your mind is in the way of questioning, for it is not single yet many reasons behind any tale, for the words of the many make them, if they are ever to be heard. Not all would listen to the orders of the one true khan, not after the war against Buyana Khanum, for there were already many, following the words and the tales and the visions of The Seeker. Yet there were not only the Bargas, but the others, desiring the vengeance for their losses. It would be seen as the choice of the impossible, had it been any other khan, but it was Ariq, for he was Chinggis Khan. He retreated Rhomaios, ordering all to rest for the summer to the end, yet it was imminent, the storm to rise. “Prepare for the winter, for it will be the last for those hiding, riding, living in the Altais.” Thus could he gain the trust of Aldar Noyan, Rhomaios. He did not say any word other than those, for he knew The Seeker would scream the promises he had made, then many suns in the old. Yet it would be foolish to even think she would yield, thus he made his choice, Rhomaios.

What was the choice? Friend, what did he do?

He looked at his brother, Rhomaios, for he was seeing only the arrogant mind, faithful yet defiant, devoted yet rebellious, for Kublai Darqan would seek any opportunity to challenge his decisions. He would never abide by the words of The Seeker, and he would never respect those following her. Chinggis Khan Ariq walked towards his brother, and he hit him with all his anger, Rhomaios, in the anger he was for losing his brother Sambuu, blaming his brother Kublai.

But he was – you told me Friend, they were anda to each other!

Yes, and it was the undying bond between the two, yet Kublai Darqan would never yield under The Seeker, and his brother was not any other khan, Rhomaios, for he was Chinggis Khan Ariq with the eyes of lightning, looking at the unknown place, riding until the unknown day, living with the unknown mind. His was the vision to rule them all. Rhomaios, do you see it now, for he could make such a choice, and he could accept it as he would storm.

He was never… He never looked for the vengeance. He was not even riding for the justice. Those of him were only –

Words, Rhomaios, yes, only words and minds and visions for others, when one becomes the storm, formed by the winds of many, to rule them all. Tümens of riders, thousands of people. And Rhomaios, this was the lightning one could see in his eyes. Phongma could see it, and even before the war against Tuvans, she was certain of it, for she was the only one, able in mind, to persuade Tuyana the Moon Sable to ride until she could reach Maowün in the red of Gobi.

She did?!

Yes, Rhomaios, she was the one to seek the truth behind the demise of their sisters, and she did so after Phongma ordered her. “I do not need to hear your demands Phongma, for I will reach the lands of Thubet, to search for my nephews and nieces, to look for the villains, taking my sisters from me. Kün Ana will shine and Ay Ata will guide when I ride.” Those were the words of The Moon Sable, hunting behind the shadow-veil of the mind, defying the khatun yet never showing the disrespect. Phongma smiled with her feral eyes, Rhomaios, for she was The Bear: “Your words are fierce Tuyana, for one can feel the love for your kin in them, yet you are still here, standing before me trying to find clever words against me.” The sable in the dark was hunted by the words from the bear of the might, Rhomaios, thus did Tuyana ride hastily, in those words Kün Ana shined, Aya Ata guided.

What did she learn, did she learn the tale of their sisters? If she did succeed, then she must have – did Chinggis Khan know the truth, Friend?

Yes, Rhomaios, and more. Tuyana found a dying Ngapo, for she would lurk in the shadow, listen to the others behind fires, she could reach Tibet without ever being hunted by the marauders, for she was the one passing through the Gobi. She found Wangdak of the Ngawas, in his bed he was, in the dark awaiting his pains to end.

Why was he in pain, Friend?

“I was waiting for you, you must be one of those from the black of the Gobi, a kin to Byorte the Devil Warrior. I will not call the others, I will not deny, I will not oppose. I do know why you are here.” Those words were what Tuyana the Moon Sable heard, for he was Wangdak, the victorious Ngapo of Sungqu, yet he was in the old age, in the knowing to whom he was talking, despite without giving names. But his tale did not end by Tuyana, for he told her the reason of his pain, for he was in the days of old, he would not see many suns, his was the sorrow, for Byorte the Red Tiger was the able rival of him. His was the sorrow of regret, Rhomaios, for it was Wangdak of the Ngawas himself fought to avenge his kin for the crimes of the Bargas before their age, thus rode he to battle against Byorte of the Bargas, whereas his warriors could only take the life of her sister Bilduu of the Bargas. It did not end, but gave birth to more of it. Many moons later, then did she seek her own vengeance for Bilduu, and she took the life of his son, Rhomaios. When she rode to fight him, only then Wangdak was able to best his rival. But Rhomaios, he saw the meaning beyond the eyes of Byorte as she died by his blade, for it was the sorrowing eyes as his. He realised that moment, as he told Tuyana of the Bargas, when he defeated Byorte, the pain for his kin dying many suns even before him did not end, and worse, his son did not come back, for it was his own mind causing the demise of his son, his thirst was never satisfied yet he was devoured by it, his was the empty mind, never able to recover. It was not justice, for cold of blades, fire of arrows can never bring that, Rhomaios. So could Tuyana the Moon Sable learn the tales of Byorte and Bilduu, from the words of Ngapo Wangdak of Sungqu, and she left him in his bed, with the pitying eyes of the anger. She told that his cries were still resounding even after she left the stone yurt and rode into the shadows: “End it. Do not go away. No! Curses on you! Do not turn your back to me! NO! Do not leave me in this pain! End it now!”

This tale is… I… Wait. Are you telling me…? If you are asking me... Friend, no!

Do not have any worry in your mind, Rhomaios, I do not have such wishes as that miserable mind, but I know your wishes, Rhomaios, I know you.

What mind do you think I have?

Sharper mind than the most, yet in the blind, even to yourself. You are hiding in such deep, yet it does not matter, Rhomaios, for I have to tell all the tales I remember, yet your questions, they cannot reach the turmoil left behind the storm. It was Tuyana the Moon Sable to learn the tale of their sisters, bringing it to the ordo of the Bargas. When Phongma delivered the tale of the pain, the sorrow behind the imminent doom, the agony it caused, it was Chinggis Khan Ariq listening those words. What he said flashed in the eyes of Phongma, even I remember how they resounded in my mind. “I will ride to the end, for I do not fear, in the storms I ride with the kut of Tengri All-Sky.” That moment was the end, Rhomaios, for Phongma saw what that storm could bring, and soaring with thunders, blasting with lightnings, and sweeping all on its path with its unforgiving wrath, it would include the children, despite the promises made. However, Rhomaios, it was already too late, for Chinggis Khan Ariq rode to Tuva, fought, and defeated Buyana Khanum. Then the demise of his brother Sambuu was heard, yet he still chose to ride, by his side was Aldar Noyan the Tempest, but allowing the wisdom of The Seeker to guide his mind. All he needed to show it, and he did it by beating his brother Kublai Darqan, in front of every other, while all were watching. It was the fight between the Darqan and the Khagan, yet it was between the two brothers of the Bargas, no one could dare to interfere. When Kublai fell on the ground, unable to open his eyes, incapable to even stand, yet still breathing, spurting blood, he screamed: “Run now, Ariq my brother, run from the pain of deaths, of your sisters and brother! I did not cause their death, but the ones who took them from us are still riding!”

Friend, what did happen then, what did Chinggis Khan do after hearing those words of Kublai Darqan?

He ordered his brother to return to Buryatia, and to never ride again, to never see him again, to never send him words again. For the minds of others, Chinggis Khan Ariq silenced the raving words of the Bargas, those of Kublai Darqan, yet the one true khan was still riding with the tümens, thus was he accepted as the wisest, Rhomaios.

To rule all, one should listen all, and know what they want. I do understand, Friend.

Amazing, Rhomaios. Yes. It was the storm never to end, Rhomaios, so did he ride to fight in the mountains of Altais, in the winter of nine hundred and ninety ninth age of your Lord, to end the rule of Kuchuguden Darqan of the Guchuguds, to bring the peace of Yekhe Mongol Uls.

Did Kublai Darqan return to Buryat lands, Friend? What did he do, while Chinggis Khan riding without ever resting? What did the other Bargas do?

He could only recover from his wounds, but the wound of the mind makes one bitter than ever before, for it does not heal as fast. He never rode for his brother again, he never saw his brother again, he never sent his brother a word again. And yes, Rhomaios, Chinggis Khan Ariq rode to reach the dawn of Kün Ana, rode to touch the light of Ay Ata. When the words for the demise of Sambuu Noyan reached Altana Noyan, she succumbed to silence, never to speak, but ever to support her brother the one true khan. Temyulen the Black Tiger was not even told of the words, until the end of her days she struggled while remembering her sisters. Yet Rhomaios, the ordo of the Bargas was divided, for it was now Phongma the Bear, riding with them Tuyana the Moon Sable, along with Saran the Restless Heron guarding the children, leading them but away from the wars, away from the storm, away from the vision of Chinggis Khan Ariq.

By the side of Chinggis Khan Ariq, Aldar Noyan the Tempest was, and they were watched by The Seeker, for she was the reason of the tales, to bind them all, to bring the peace over the horrors of the old, to prevent them ever to happen again. When the battles over Altais proved the might of Kuchuguden Darqan, the riders of The Eternal Blue retreated, yet proclaimed dominance over their side of the mountains. When the black ends of the Uls was threatened, Chinggis Khan Ariq rode as a thunder of Ülgen, reaching the lands of Sibir, defeating King Nuyaksha of the Bardakis. When the remnants of the Kirghiz Khanate dared to threaten his vision again, he rode as a lightning from Ülgen, reaching beyond the red of Altais, crushing the warriors of Odeg Darqan of the Kalyuks. The wars never ended, Rhomaios, the Bargas never realised what they were in, for one cannot see it while riding the storm causing it. The turmoil they were in, and to this day as we speak, no one knows how the only light fainted, when the pillars of the earth were shaken, when the serenity of words left them.

The Seeker!

Yes, Rhomaios. It was the thousand and sixth age of your Lord, and she was nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be found, nowhere to be called, without any sound, without any word, without any tale, she was no more. I remember, I remember all of them, but her last words I remember the most. “Have no worries in the age of the struggle, for one has to keep the mind determined, young one. Never forget the power of the words coming from the tales, and never lose yourself in the tales of the old, for they cast the blind-eye with their glory. Never forget, they are told only to show the past, and should you choose, they become the words of the wise, for they hold the truth behind the mistakes, allowing one never to repeat them.” Had you had the chance to ask, whether the age brings new and unknown mistakes one can fall into, what one should do, then Rhomaios, she would answer readily: “Have no worries in the age of mistakes, for the coming days bring fortune and curse together, young one. The fortunes will show one how to face the curses of the coming days, and new tales will be forged for the days beyond. Young one, should they wish it, all must have the fortune to know their tales, and all must have the fortune to deliver their tales for the coming days.”

Those were her words, and I remember them all. Yet the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq would rage in the storm, the wars would resume without any end, thus were they in the unknown, when The Seeker left them. Yet for a young mind in that age, I persuaded myself in my own strength, for I was certain who was behind the mystery. I was young, and I was the ill-knowing.

Friend, who was it? Who fainted the light of the Bargas, leaving them without wisdom?

I knew it, Rhomaios, but only for I was young. My mind is not in that certainty any more.

But, what are you saying, Friend? What did happen?

I told you, Rhomaios, the turmoil happened, and the harmony left the lands. The sun was blue, and it was the Bargas seeing the white doom in their minds. None could be accused, for the ordo of the riders was still in their campaign. The ordo of the Bargas was far from them yet in the Kaytargan steppes. The Seeker was last seen in the lands of Aldar Noyan, treating the ill in the steppes left behind, she told all she would ride into the black, to bring herbs and healers, then she was no more. When the words reached, telling The Seeker was not seen for moons, the Khishigs were sent, yet Achigh of the Borogchins and Dergun of the Hokhots could not find her. Chinggis Khan Ariq succumbed to sorrow, for the lightning in his eyes were of the darkness. Aldar Noyan was devastated, for the words were ominous, for there were more ill tidings from his lands. There the disease was spread, then to his own ordo, leaving no one alive but only his eldest son. A cursed disease, casting bloated wounds, spurting disgusting pus out of them, causing an agonising end for one.

I know this disease you speak of, Friend. The plague, for I have seen it through my journeys.

Yes Rhomaios, and the doom was there, in the minds of all, mourning and begging for mercy from tengris in the skies, in the seas, in the rivers, in the steppes, in the hills, in the mountains.

But how did rest of the Bargas survive, Friend? What did they do, for they were left without wisdom, as The Seeker was not found?

Your words assume the truth, Rhomaios, yes, the wisdom left them, for it was certain, The Seeker left to ride in the eternal sky. The disease took many lives, and the remaining Bargas were saved only by fortune. I struggled to understand how one can fight such a disease in my age, but I was not successful in my efforts. One can only try to escape from it, begging mercy from Tengri the Eternal Blue. Yet in the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq, it was the turmoil. I told you, the only light fainted, the storm prevailed.
And it roared, Rhomaios. The storm soared over the Karasorkaliqs of the Kipchaks in the Karkarali and Kazakh steppes, Karagas of the Kirghiz in the Qocho hills, Chigils of the Karluks in the Zhetysu rivers.

The storm blasted on the Blu of the Karluks, and their lands in Otrar would never recover from the horrors.

The storm swept Sevilay Darqan of the Tuzniqs in Kimek steppes, Begluk Khan of the Karasorkaliq in Kipchak plains, Baçman Darqan of the Chigils near Balkash sea of Karluks.

The storm of thunders and lightnings fell upon the Guchuguds of the Naimans, the end of Kuchuguden Darqan was the tale of agony and misery. Many saw their demise, and others mourn the fallen ones. All seen by the eyes of lightning, they were devoured by the storm, it was to roar never to cease.

When Phongma the Bear rode to see her beloved one more, but to face the storm, to call for the serenity, to demand the peace of the days, she brought all children with her, yet they were left away before the khagan and the khatun met.

But you know what happened when they met, do you not, Friend, for the curious ones cannot be restrained?

I was not a young child any more, but yes, Rhomaios, mine was the curious mind. Phongma stood before Ariq, seeing a man in his late suns, but his eyes were still in the lightning, yet darker than ever were. Phongma saw those eyes, and she did not halt, she did not hesitate, she did not even blink. “It will never end, will it?”

And Ariq looked at his woman, burning in the love for her, yet unable to speak of it, as if struggling to avoid saying them. His words were of the cold, Rhomaios, for the vision of the mind was stronger than the passion of the mind. “It is my rule, for all of them will follow.”

Those were his words, and they were out of the wisdom, then left in the many suns before. Phongma knew the meaning, and no one, not even the Khagan of Mongolia, not even tengris could challenge her. “Hear my words. They are my children. Mine!”

They looked at each other, without ever moving, for the longest moment. I do not know what words would follow those, yet my mind is certain, they remained without any words. I was caught by then, Rhomaios.

By whom, Friend? What happened after you were caught?

Tuyana, for she was to watch over the children in the shadows, Rhomaios. I was able in evading her for only such short moment, then she would reach where I was hiding. While she was dragging me to ours away from the ordo of the riders, I was silent. Before arriving, she asked: “What were you doing? Do you know what would happen if I was not the one but another to find you there?” But I was silent, Rhomaios, and she saw.

What did she see? What was it she saw, Friend?

When Phongma returned from Ariq, it was already the night, yet she gave the order to return, for we would ride in the dark. Saran learnt of my escape from Tuyana, and she embraced me, but she delivered the words of Tuyana to Phongma. Her brows were knitted, her eyes were worried, for she knew she could never trust her beloved, and she knew there had to be another path instead of the turmoil, of the storm, for it was to devour not only their foes, but every and each of all. She was trying to find it in that dark of the night, when Saran spoke to Phongma. Those words brought her mind from the darkness cast for the coming days, and she looked, and she saw it too.

But Friend? What are you speaking of, what was it they saw?

Tuyana saw the eyes of trust, greater than any other she ever received, thus she spoke of them to her sister Saran, for she would deliver the words to the khatun. After the words of her, Phongma looked at the cause of those words, Rhomaios. She saw the light for the coming days, just as Saran and Tuyana saw, emerging from the eyes, silent yet telling, the serenity of words had to return, new pillars to carry the earth had to be erected, the light to burn evermore had to be started.

...?

It was my eyes what they saw, Rhomaios. They saw the light in my eyes, in them the lightning yet again, but of my path for the coming days.

Note on the link my path: Zack Hemsey - The Way - from the album with the same name - 2011

Publishers-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected major publication mistakes.

filcat · Dec 23, 2021

Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - Epilogue

The Hope

You were the one. You were there to help them finding the light. You salvaged them out of savagery.

You do know the words of The Seeker, Rhomaios.

I do not know them, nor the name, Friend, only in whispers, I was fortunate to hear, for mine is the curious mind too.

Yet you never used the curiosity for your own questions, but under the orders of others, you served your priests.

But Friend, they salvaged my soul, my mind is in the blessing of forgiveness.

And they serve your masters, your despots, your Basileis, yet you do not see it, else you do not want to. So be it.

You can achieve the salvation too, Friend. Why do you not see yourself in the benevolence? For yours is the magnificence, you led your people from the eternal doom of turmoil. You said six tümens, Friend. A horrifying might, in the hands of the wrath, all following the name of evil. In our age, they were never to be heard. Not even name of the Bargas, only fragments of tales by the fires, murmuring the names either The Bear, or the Shaman of the White, or the remnants of words from The Wise Karsak.

The Bear was able, for hers was to live and ride, yet she also protected and guided the children, preventing their minds falling before the blight. Even in the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq, she persuaded many of the riders to follow her, for hers was the vigilant mind. They followed her, at the end almost four tümens they were, and she guided us, the children. I never hesitated to follow her, yet I also never abandoned the side of Chinggis Khan Ariq. I was… the one both accepted, for I was to be above the sides. But Kün Ana bestows the light for all in the day, Ay Ata shines upon all in the night. Ours is not the only tale under the eternal sky. Many others were such, people of the other worlds heard many words and stories and tales, yet the wanderers and the traders and the bands and the caravans, their numbers were in the low by the significant. Your masters saw their world was changing too, for they were receiving less tales before their time. They sent the likes of you, for this was their ambition, theirs were the curious minds too, yet for their greed. It does not matter, for my age saw more people to walk the roads, cross the deserts, pass the mountains, bringing the tales from one sea to another. They trembled for what they heard, thus did they send more such as you. You never heard the Barga name, for all it was in the tales the dreadful fame, from those thus I removed the bane.

Friend, the others, how did their tales end?

Out of those you already know, I already told many of them, but one.

Kublai Darqan. Did he ever gain his courage to defy the rule of his brother? Did he ever oppose again Chinggis Khan?

No. He never left the mountains of Buryat, forever to be cursed rode his horse, for he could never dare to act against his own righteousness, he would never betray his bond by the blood, yet suffered in his mind. His and Chinggis Khan Ariq were andas, yet they became apart, after the losses and the fight. But I was young. I was drowned in my certainty. I let my fury blinding me.

What happened Friend? Did you…? What did you do?!

Kublai Darqan released his last breath, still in the bitter mind for his brother, yet he was looking at another one, for he was suffering and trembling and burning, with the bloated wounds spurting terrible pus. He was looking at me. I was there, when he was to have his last breath. I was there to see it, for I knew the disease would spread faster with the rodents. I was there to make it possible, for I had to ascertain his eyes to be closed forever.

No… No… What are saying Friend? No!

I was the one bringing the rodent into his ordo, for his meat to be poisoned, for him to eat it, for his was the crime, my mind was in the certain he was the reason for The Seeker to abandon us.

No, Friend, no! No one can bare the agony of taking a life, I do know it! Lord All-Mighty, I am praying for the soul of this one, please hear my voice –

So be it. I did this, I watched him as he was to close his eyes. His only words were to me, for I was the last one to visit him in the dark. “I forgive you.” He knew. Words to resound in my mind forever, yet I was too young, too powerful, too vigorous, enough to brush them off, for I was to ride with Chinggis Khan Ariq, I was to follow the steps of The Seeker under the guidance of The Bear. They never knew, no one ever knew. Many suns later I realised what I have been, what I was, what I am, but it was too late. It is too late, when one closes the eyes forever.

You said Phongma would never allow it, even though Chinggis Khan Ariq broke his promise to her, for the children had to follow the teachings of The Seeker, never to repeat the horrors of the old! Friend, you said it!

Yes, and I told you, for the children would forge their own paths. I never defied the tales left from The Seeker, and more, I made them the words to be followed by all. Thou shall not kill, neither kin nor other. Thou shall not rage against the ones with the different tengris, with the different minds, with the different habits. Thou shall not restrain the love to only two, for it is the mind for all. Thou shall not lay hands on the kin, thou shall not defy the words of the shamans. Many more I brought from the eternal sky to the pedestals, ordered them to be immortal on pillars, demanded them to be followed. Yet in the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq, those were only the words uttered by none but one, and she was The Seeker, but she abandoned the Bargas forever. The Bear, with her The Restless Heron and The Moon Sable, they guided my path, and I also remained by the side of Chinggis Khan Ariq, for I had to abide his rule while gathering all the might he had. Thousands perished by him, yet thousands followed him, and I was there, riding with him. The Bear never saw him, nor allowed him to approach her, not even could he see his children, had he wanted. It is for this reason, she remained in the steppes of Semey, in the white of Altais, away from the hearth on Borchigin lands.

When your Lord was of the age thousand and nineteen, the mind of Ariq Khan was in the ailing, and he already knew to whom he had to trust for leaving the storm, ever to soar under the eternal sky, but never to cease. Before his end was imminent, I rode with him to the steppes where his beloved stayed, away from him. In the last days of our ride, I had to carry him, for he was in the weak. I carried him, for his last days he wanted to be with his love, to look at her eyes, to ask for her acceptance. When we arrived, The Bear took him into her yurt, while looking at his eyes. His eyes were in the need of her, in the sorrow for being cast away from her, and her eyes were of the pity, for she never needed him, not once, and not any more. Forty riders trotted around his fire when his eyes closed many days later, but it would not be enough to forgive him in the eyes of The Bear. Yet his was the mind then in The Eternal Blue riding, his were the remains to be buried in the unknown mountains, watching over the unknown minds, for the unknown eternity.

But no, thousands perished before his last breath, and thousands perished after his age, for it was my age. I did not covet the lands of the others, but I told you, when a monster dies, another one is created, for it is the mind of Basileis and Khagans, to rule them all you lead the thousands to fight thousands more. I found other tales to claim, I found other lands to see, I found other worlds to include in our tale. You heard all of them, yet you were in the unknown, for the name of the Bargas was no more, it was Baigaljin for I ordered it to be the fame. All noyans, all darqans, all irgens, all harans, even khans you saw, you heard, you passed by, in those steppes, in those hills, in those mountains, their tales belong to us, for I rule them all. Do you understand it now?

Mother of Iesous Christos, please hear my voice, deliver it to Heavenly Father, in the name of the Holy spirit, I pray for this soul.

So be it. I told you thousands perished before my eyes, you kept your faith, out of all people, but for me. I told you I was the one taking the life of Kublai Darqan, as if an Erlik-wraith I heard his last words, even if he might have never done, of the crime I accused him in my mind, you kept your faith, still praying for my mind. I have told you thousands perished in my hands, in my age, and you still keep your faith.

But why? Why would my prayers not be accepted for you Friend? Your salvation I show to you, you already confessed all your sins, and the only need you should have is asking for forgiveness.

If you are trusting your words, I should reconsider my mind, for yours may not be the sharper mind. Yet I chose you, and I am sorry for you, for now I will leave you helpless, as the tale will break you.

Please Friend, you should see the light in the absolution.

No, I do not deserve that, but only suffering in pain I shall await. Yet, all I wish is you to listen to the tales I tell, for you to deliver them to the coming days. I was bestowed with the fortune of Umay, fourteen children were born in my name. I loved them all, I have the love in my mind for them all, yet mine was the ill-knowing mind then. You do know the names of the most, you do know what they do, for your words carried many of the tales to your masters. Look at the pile behind you, and you will see the heavy scroll, holding the words in it, they are our tales but in your words, and I heard the sounds of them all. They do not have the tale, for Todogen is the name, my beloved son, yet I am the worst nightmare for him. When he was young, he was mocked and ridiculed and cast away by the others, and I hated his misery, yet his was the joy of the day despite the others. I never despised his terrible face, I never despised his mediocre mind, I never despised his trembling on the horse. I have the love in my mind for him. He is my child. HE IS MY CHILD, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!

Yes, yes Friend, I understand.

But his mind was the joyous, his mind was the satisfied, his mind was the modest. I saw the lightning in the eyes of another child of mine, and he was Daritai. He was too young, yet always in the vigour, more than I could ever be, reminding just as The Bear. His was the sharper mind, more than I could ever be, reminding just as Chinggis Khan. And he enjoyed the company of his older brother, for Daritai and Todogen were always riding together. Todogen was well beyond his age, yet he never wanted the spoil of the war, he never wished the spoil of the raid, he never even allowed others to follow him. I was still in the mind of the might, the vigour, and the storm. The lightning were my eyes, and they would cast upon any and every other, for I would be the one to bring all to salvation, still in the unaware of the might from those words; I forgive you. Those meant none to me, and to my mind the young Todogen would be just as Kublai Darqan, his kin he never saw. He would be just Kublai, when my age would end, he would just be the arrogant righteous for whom would be the storm. I was in the silent fury, I was in the rage of the beast, I was in the mind of the mightiest, and my hands grasped his throat…

Heavenly Lord save my soul! I am praying for your mercy!

…and I choked his throat, in my hands was the struggling Todogen, looking at me, the questions one would see in his eyes…

No! You wouldn’t! NO!

…and his eyes were looking at me, and I realised the tears of mine falling on his face.

Heavenly Lord I beg you, please hear me, save this soul!

Spare me your faith of the irrelevant prayers. I do not deserve even those, but I was unable to end, for I was hit at the back of my head.

Thank you Iesous the Christos, thank you! Who, Friend? WHO? Who saved you from this damning sin?

Daritai. It was Daritai, dragging his brother out of my hands, for I tumbled and collapsed, falling on the ground, but awakened, yet only after realising what I had done. It was too late. His screams I still hear, for they haunted my mind ever since: “You will never touch him again, do you hear me! You insane wretch! You will never talk to us again! You will never see us again! Damn you, let Erlik devour your mind! Hear my words! You will never talk to us!” He did it, he saved his older brother Todogen, and he saved me, and he saw only eleven suns by then. When I was able in regaining my ezens, it was too late, for I realised what I was. I forgive you. Nonsense. It was too late, for Daritai also realised what I was on that day, he would forever hate my being, he would forever defy my rule, he would never follow my mind.

F – Friend, how could you do this? How could you?

Spare me your questions of the miserable, spare me your irrelevant prayers, for I do know what I am, and I am in the suffering, no gods in any name in any world can punish equally. Do you understand, I tried to take the life of my own, of my beloved child, of my blood!

I… I cannot even try. I do not know how you can be saved, Friend. I… I will… I will still pray for the mercy of God, for yours is truly the greatest suffering, and yet I cannot find words to define it.

Amazing. Sharp mind, and bold in the blindest. Yet I do know, I have been in the suffering, and I am, and I will forever be. None of my hopes succeed, for I do know what I am. However, my wish is you to listen to the tales I told, and you will deliver them to the coming days. Yet in this mind you cannot do it, for you are in the void, the darkness of the belief for saviours, yet thousands perish in the hands of those you have hope for, just as what I am. I have to question your mind, for the wish I have to try.

No, Please Friend, what you are trying to say, I do not know, I do not want to hear it, I will serve your wishes however you want.

I know you, Rhomaios.

Please Friend, no!

I know you want to take my life, I know you want to see my eyes closed forever, I know you want to end the life of this man you see.

No! No! NO!

Yet, you do not do it. Not for you have your faith, not for you repented your sins, not for your gods tell you otherwise.

Please! Speak no more!

You cannot do it, not for you have the absolution for your sins and following the path of your gods. You cannot do it, Rhomaios, for you know it, if you ever make any suspicious move, my baghaturs and my Khishigs and my servants, waiting they are in the shadows you do know, they would tear you apart, for you are hiding behind your absolution, for you are suppressing your rage behind the words of your gods, for you are shielding your wrath behind your faith. You know it too, for you are not only a keeper of words, you are not only a deliverer of tales, but a murderer you are.

NO! DAMN YOU OLD WRETCH! I HOPE YOU SUFFER FOREVER MORE! YOU CURSED ILL-BRED! YOU MINDLESS SHIT! CURSES ON YOU! I HOPE YOU SCREAM WHEN YOU SUFFER YOUR LAST BREATH!

Spare me your cursed words, Rhomaios.

Why would you… How could you take my… I was saved… I was absolved of this mind!...

Clean your face, dash away your tears, calm your mind, Rhomaios. When one looks at the mirror, it shows the eyes of one, thus we always fear of it. I did look at myself, Rhomaios. What I see was… Let your mind see it, your eyes grasp it, your ears hear it, Rhomaios. I am a monster.

Why… Why would you…

I have always been, I am always, I will always be a monster. Not benevolent, not magnificent, not kind, and yet the mightiest storm ever can be. Rhomaios, this is the smile you see on the faces of Basileis and Khagans, and behind those merciful smiles, thousands lay on the ground, without breathing, their tales never be heard, for we are all monsters, ruling over the others. Never were, never are, never will be saviours, and my wish is this, Rhomaios.

I would never want to... take... your life... Why did you choose me? Why did you tell your tales from your filth of mind? I will never surrender my faith, I will never yield!

Keep your faith, but to yourself, for you will need it, Rhomaios. Not for the saviour never be, but the saviours ever could be, for the people can follow the minds of doom, yet they should for once have the chance to decide what they need to do.

What… What are you talking about?!

I told you, Rhomaios. All tales I had to tell. You can keep the scrolls of your words too, take them from the pile. You have listened to my words, and others will be ordered for bringing those words on the scrolls too, yet not for you, but you will still have the words of the tales in your mind, for that is what you are. Then my Khishig, he will come to you, and he will talk to you, and you will listen to him, and you will follow him, for he will lead you to a horse of the fastest.

You… You are telling me…

This is the farewell, Rhomaios.

But… But why? What was the point of torturing me, inflicting so much pain on my mind, harming my soul, breaking my core, why would you?

I already told you, Rhomaios, for all I wish is you to deliver the tales for the coming days. Chinggis Khan Ariq was the greatest khan ever be, for he was the storm never to cease, and he ruled the world. But Rhomaios, he ruled the world only known to him, to his kin, to his people. I was too, Rhomaios, a mighty khan, for I was the storm never to cease, and my storm roared greater than him, and I knew the other worlds more than him, yet I did not want to, for I saw what I am. Those were the fortunes and the curses for your people.

But Rhomaios, I will not breathe forever, and wherever I will ride after the last of my mind, the age of Daritai will come. It is my fault, it is my crime, it is my sin, and it does not matter if I live more, else I am no more. Rhomaios, it will be the doom, for you, for us, for everyone, for he knows more worlds, beyond Chinggis Khan Ariq ever could dream of, even more than I could ever desire, and he will find any tale to tell for people to follow him. Even the tales I told, my servants will listen to you even if I do not order them, for they follow my rule however I want, else not, for I am the Khan of the Baigaljin, Khagan of Yekhe Mongol Uls, for I have been in the steppes of Semey ever since that day, when the hatred of Daritai began, raging against who I am, what I am, thus he will also use those tales I told in the name of his reign, in the fame of the Borchigin lands now he resides. However it happens, at the end of it, you should ride the horse, for my Khishig will show you the way, yet in the fastest trot, just as a storm.

I… I cannot believe what I hear… You say… Daritai… Daritai will come… I cannot understand this. Friend! Why are you doing this?

For the hope, Rhomaios. The hope you are desperately in, and for the peoples of yours, of ours, of all, for I am not a saviour, no Khagan is, no Basileus is, but peoples can be, and they should have the hope. For I told you the tales I know they are the truth, and others will be ordered to hear your delivery, and they will make the words immortal.

F – Friend.

Let the light and peace of Iesous-tengri, the Christos, be upon you Rhomaios. Let the days and the nights of your path be guided by Tengri All-Sky, the Eternal Blue. I will call for all the tengris I know, I will pray, I will cry in your name.

You will need all the fortune, Rhomaios,
for I never told you,
I never ordered you,
I never demanded from you,
in which path of hope,
for whom,
to whom,
you should deliver these tales.

Note on the link hope: Message to Bears - Hope - from the album Departures - 2009

Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.

filcat · Jan 20, 2022

Book II - Volume II - The Historian - I

“– What do you call to your acquaintances?
– Friend?
– Nökör? I like it. Yes. Now, you are different, I know you. You have come from the seas beyond.
– I... I have come from the great sea in the middle of the world, yes, F – Friend?
– That is better. Is that what you name your lands, the sea in the middle of the world? Are your people called sea dwellers?
– If that does not please you, your magnifice-
– My mind may be ailing, but I am still mighty, ready to fight when I am angry.
– Apologies, K- I meant, Friend. I was born in the lands of the Basileus. We are called Rhomaioi. Friend.”

έτος Κόσμου 6529

To My Bishop, Reverend And Divinely Favoured Heraklios, Demetrio of the Lowly Adorno Name Sends Greeting In The Lord

I have arrived in the city providing the sanctuary I desperately need for my being. I am safe under the protection of my new patron, Conte Giorgio of Mantua.

I could not write these words, and I could not even be in the joy of breathing, were I not fortunate by your friendship and your assistance. As since the dawn of my life, I will eternally be in your debt. I will never forget your image in my mind, I will forever use my skills to praise your sublime being, yet I am sad to inform you, for you warned me against it, but I will still resume pursuing what I deem curious, for I am the servant of God, but by His Grace, I am bestowed by Him with the gift of questions. The questioning I will resume, for I cannot stop but think, of the nature of the beings, of the reasons of the happenings.

*

To My Dearest Friend, Heavenly Blessed With Great Mind and Eternally Cursed With Great Courage, I, Herakleios, Bishop of Kerts, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Twenty-Nine, Send Greeting In The Lord

My friend, I shall be in the eternal shame for the gratitude you serve for me, because I am no one but a servant of God All-Mighty, He Who creates and protects, He Who provides and cherishes. However, I should remind you the reasons of your exile. Your mind is the greatest joy I have the fortune to know, and perhaps I indulge myself in almost a sinful way, thus I repent. I shall urge you the same, for your courageous methods I envy, yet I fear for your safety exactly due to them. It began when you indulged yourself the history of our Basileia Rhomaion, only then you found your excuses to blame and curse on the deeds of the blessed House of the Makedon. I feared for your life, and I was right, for the House of Basileios the First of the Makedon, sebastos autokrator, Basileus ton Rhomaion, was the target of your words, although he lived in the two-hundred years to the past. The court of Konstantinoupolis would not accept such vanity, and they would punish you harshly, had I not intervened. Please consider your health, my friend, for I certainly would be in the agony, should any harm come to your way. Please write to me of your findings at your new home in the Latin lands, and please feel safe of our correspondence.

Our letters are delivered by the nameless ones you might have noticed, but they are the friends of my recent novice, a dear confidant, a reliable companion, a child of wilderness, a man of great steppes afar, yet born in the lands beyond Tanais. Please rest assured, as Giavdios of the Bolkiros will see your words and deliver them to me in safety under the protection of God All-Mighty.

*

To My Bishop, Reverend And Divinely Favoured Heraklios, Demetrio of the Lowly Adorno Name Sends Greeting In The Lord

I have made the home I wished for, my dear friend. The city of Mantua is an image of Heaven, if Our Lord forgives me for the comparison. Conte Giorgio of the Friuli family is a man of coldest words known to his acquaintances, but he shares the passion of the mind in the questions I have. He is strong in the heart, because of his nature he resists to yield his allegiance to our Patriarch of Konstantinoupolis in the matters of the Schism, defying the words and the decrees of the Bishop of Rome.

He provides a sanctuary, he bestows the mercy behind the walls of his city for those yet living in the Latin lands, under the rule of Queen Melisende of Burgundy.

Judging by the words of your trust, I shall provide all my knowledge newly acquired in my latest journeys throughout the ever-divided and never-recovered lands of Europa. The descendants of the pretender basileus of the name Karolidons still dominate and fight each other, for a vile ambition to have a throne of their own, yet the title still rightfully belongs to autokrator in Konstantinoupolis. It is pointless how unsuccessful they are, but they are yet to claim their ascendancy in the lands of Frankia, divided into east and west as if since the dawn of man in the times of Adam and Eve. Their claim is still based on the spurious words decreed by Bishop of Rome since the age of Károlos, yet their predicament is more miserable than ever before.

The east of the lands attracts more curiosity for my mind, because I made great findings, and that is once again by your assistance, my friend. Once in the times of Basileios the First, when he usurped the throne of Rhomaion by murdering Michail the Third of the Amoriou from Phrygia, the Makedons established their dominance in Basileia, abolishing the themata for their own greed on the throne. However my friend, I learnt from the merchants in Venetia, as they told me what they learnt through their journeys. In the lands of Kroumos the Fearsome, Kanas of Bulgaria, after his descendant Boris the First had found the glory in the path of Our Lord, there had been an invasion from further east into those lands of Pannonia. Theofanis the Confessor had named the lands around Kaspia as Tourkia, and these invaders escaped their rulers of that realm. Your assistance came at this point, my friend but unbeknownst to you. Your novice Giavdios of the Bolkiros has confirmed this to my knowledge, and he told me that those people call themselves Khazars. On the other hand, the invaders of Pannonia called themselves Magyars once they settled in the north of Tiras, beyond the mountains of Hunnic Alps of Sarmatici and Carpates. They claim the name of Arpad for their tribe, and this claim is a curios one. I recall the chronicles by Menandros Protiktor, as he noted the exchanges between Rhomaion and these people from five centuries in the past. From his words I remember a ruler named Sizabul, and your novice told me they were of the tribe Ashina. This tribe ruled the barbarian lands of Khazaria. Giavdios of the Bolkiros told me the tales of these people, as a rival tribe of the name Dulo rebelled against their overlords, escaping their rule to the north of Tiras. Their descendants assumed the name Arpad, and these tribes invaded the Bulgar Kingdom during the reign of Boris the First.

It is now clear that the realm beyond the north of Bulgar Kingdom under the reign of King Soimir, the kingdoms of Wallach and Heves are the descendants of or related to this Arpad tribe. They have been true to their barbarian traditions since those times, and the Bulgarian kings are still unable to bring the light of the Lord to their lands.

The great findings on the history of these people are not distractions to my main objection my friend. You still keep the wisdom, yet you confide yourself to the limits of the inner peace of the mind, however I will keep my position in defence of the questions for more. The curiosity of my mind cannot be satiated by the books of a single library, but only by the many. I will further claim, and it is my vanity as you may accuse me of, but during the reign of Basileios the First, the war with the Aghlabi sultans did not bring any peace for the merchants I talked with. The war was won, yes, a victory of Rhomaion against the Muslims, but Sultan Muhammad the Second of the Aghlabi returned to the throne of his realm mere years later. However, they had already lost their claim on the island of Sikelia with the successful campaigns by the Benevento families against them.

While Basileios the First was ravaging the pagan lands of Ragusa, the Tulun Sultanate of Aígyptos grew powerful evermore. They prepared for war against their own faithful, the Abbasi Sultanate, contesting the title of their supreme rule for all Muslims. The Caliph of Baghdad had been recently murdered, leaving the reign to a child, thus the Tulun rebellion was certain to install Sultan Khumarawayh ibn Ahmad to the throne. It was this time Basileios the First was brutally wounded in his unnecessary wars, yet in the moment of insanity, and to curses of his fortune, he abolished the thema administrates, leaving all lands of Rhomaion to the families of the noble blood. They all accepted, to our demise, and it must be a punishment of God, He Who holds the destiny of all. Thus my friend, he not only missed the opportunity to bring the war to the court of the Abbasi in Baghdad, but he wasted the souls of Christians on the lands of Ragusa, while greedily securing the throne of Basileia to his own family.

My friend, you are more knowledgeable as I can ever be, yet your knowledge on our Rhomaion sadly depends on what is written in the books of your library. When I talked with other wanderers, scholars, poets, they enriched what I was bestowed previously. It does not need to be recited, but I will nevertheless, as the families from Venetia, and the refugees from Genova are also in contempt, to the point of furious curses on the Makedon family. When the child Basileus Konstantinos the Seventh assumed the reign, he acted as a petty fief as what they call in the lands of Frankia. This child rushed the legions of Basileia to the needs of King Lotharios of Italy, and died on his way without ever reaching there nor caring for his subjects.

The chaos ensured afterwards was briefly amended by his brother Basileus Leon the Sixth, on this matter I have to agree with you. But he could have ended the Muslim rule in Africa when the Aghlabi descendants collapsed into their own war against each other. Yet he did not, my friend. He could have called for the help of all Christians for a Holy War to reclaim Syría, Aígyptos, and blessed of all, Hierosóluma, when the Caliphate of the Abbasi family was on the brink of collapse due to the wars between the Tuluns of Aígyptos and the Abbasi of Baghdad, there was no authority left in the realm of Arabia. Yet he did not, my friend. Instead, Basileus Leon the Sixth declared dominion over Armenia, crushing the Apostolics. He declared the Bishop of Rome to be usurpers, further provoking for a greater chasm between the Patriarchates of the Pentarchía. Yet his reign ended in no success but helped the rise of the Kingdom of Burgundy, as she seized the opportunity on the principalities and the cities of north and south Italy. For these reasons are the merchants of the free cities furious. Out of all those who gave hope, Basileus Leon the Sixth was the greatest disappointment, not only in my eyes, but for the many.

The disappointment does not end there, my friend. When I consider the reign of Basileus Christophoros the Builder, I see great works to be done but in a hasty manner. He also followed the mistakes of his predecessors. He could have mended the Schism by helping the Bishop of Rome in his Holy Wars against the Waldensians of Spoleto.

Yet he did not, my friend. He did not even bother what had happened in the Holy Lands under the Muslim rule. The Tulun rebellion failed against the Caliphate, yet the Abbasi family was overthrown by factions of their own. When the Masudi family came to power, the Caliphate collapsed, leaving the authority to their local emirs. Yet Basileus Christophoros claimed the throne of Bulgar Kingdom, in an ever disastrous campaign. When his son ascended, the war was over in the humiliating defeat we know as The Fall.

Indeed the Christians in the Latin and the Frankish lands call as such for the reign of Basileus Leon the Seventh. Instead of him, Bishop of Rome Sergius the Third had declared his ambition, calling for the Christendom to reclaim Hierosóluma. The merchants of Venetia, some of whom still remembering the Holy War of the Faithful, they blame the Makedon Basileus for not opening the ports to aid them. It is their belief that why the War ended in tragedy for thousands fought against Great Sultan Malik al-Muazzam Khumarawayh of the Sullums.

You may see my letter as the prudent words of a stubborn person, but the finding I have reached is hidden in these, reciting the history of our Basileia. I still defend my position in our discussion, my dearest friend. We do not live alone, whereas we are cursed with rulers assuming they are the Basileis of the entire world. The world resumes to live just as we do, and we pay the consequences of terrible deeds of our rulers in their own vanity. The greatest finding I have found is in the secrets the merchants of Venetia shared with me. Since hundreds of years passed, the losses of Basileia Rhomaion have affected them, for they are certain that their fortunes are diminishing due to this. Yet they had managed to establish contacts within the Caliphate, and their craft that they had mastered over the Mesógeios continued to thrive. Even the Holy War of the Faithful was beneficial for their cause in their eyes, however unholy and untruthful this may seem for the devout ones, but they have their place on the earth we live in.

But my friend, I have to warn you: Ever since the fall of the lands of Basileia in Syría and Hierosóluma against the Muslims, they have not seen a greater despair and a greater turmoil for their trade as now. The northern routes are held by the Khazars, and with their weakened positions, Basileus Christophoros the Second tries his fortune in the mountains of Kafkasia. What concerns the merchant families is the loss of their contacts, for a couple of decades now they claim. Even if the northern routes are secured, or even if a miracle happens to save the Christians in the lands of Aígyptos and Syría from the Caliphate and the Arabia of Sullums, they are still expressing their desperation. Their petitions are not heard by the Karolidon pretenders, nor by the Bishop of Rome, and they are afraid that the efforts of Basileia Rhomaion are in vain. The merchants from beyond the Kaspia and the Persis, they told ominous tales disrupting the routes of silk and spice that they have been enjoying so far since the peace of Rhomaion when it was in her glory. This is my fear too, friend. When these rumours become obvious, we will be at the mercy of the Makedon family for the prosperity of our realm. Basileus Christophoros the Second may seem lenient, he may be more capable than his predecessors, but when I look back at the history, when I read what it says, when I remember what I have learnt, I share their concern. My words were listened by Conte Giorgio, and even he understands the situation we live in, thus he extends his patronage overseeing my studies.

However the situation may be, I will further my journeys and find new libraries, of books and of men from many origins, which was the starting point of our first discussion, my friend. I could not have stayed forever in the monasteries of Bosporos you oversee, nor in the holy churches of Konstantinoupolis the blind patriarchs roam, and never in the palaces and the mansions of the oblivious family of the Makedon rules. Despite your warnings, I will resume to question, to find the answers, and I will be ever happier to find even more questions to ask, so I can feel the grace of Heavenly God.

*

To My Dearest Friend, Heavenly Blessed With Great Mind and Eternally Cursed With Great Courage, I, Herakleios, Bishop of Kerts, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Twenty-Nine, Send Greeting In The Lord

My friend, your words always shine upon what is dark of the day I have in the Bosporos. You may resent my insistence on staying in these lands, but the flock needs guidance, because the people deserve to know the true love of Our Lord. It is especially true when you accuse the rulers of the earthly riches for the misery we suffer, thus the Heavenly God must be heard more than ever.

Yet I do know you will never yield from saying what you learn, and I do know you will be on your way to feel the grace Our Lord through your studies. I will still be the Bishop of Kerts in Bosporos, yet I have the fortune of my faith, for Our Lord favours those who seek His guidance. I do also learn despite I do not much indulge travelling as you prefer, but the acquaintances of my novice Giavdios of the Bolkiros tell me that there have been great migrations from the lands beyond Kaspia, moving away from the routes towards Kafkasia, confirming what you have learnt from other travellers. These people, who were once following their barbarian faiths, they seek a safe haven for themselves and their beloved. I open the doors of the church, as Our Lord tells me, whereas this deed is seen as a naïve sentiment by many of the fellow priests and bishops, I sadly inform. Giavdios of the Bolkiros says the lands of Kerts are seen as a sacred destination for these people according to their customs from the times long before our age. They call it Karça, and they claim it was once under the rule of Kaganos of Khazars, yet of the name Bulan, descendants of Ashina tribe they claim. This I do know, as it was one of the last themata established. Church of Ioannis the Baptist, should you remember our discussions there, was actually built during those times and stood still despite the hardships it endured. Many refugees I accepted and provided for them personally, baptising many of them in that church for some time now. Many of these families shared with me similar concerns as you wrote, confirming the troubles in their lands they faced, yet left without details.

But my friend, you shall heed my advice, and be discreet on your studies, because the words are much sharper than the swords. They may incur the wrath of others more severe than the blood spilt on the grounds. I must warn you now, for it is the utmost priority for me to see your safety. Please reconsider your stance against the Makedon family, if you ever wish to come back, or even see Konstantinoupolis again. The recent conquests of Basileus Christophoros the Second bolstered his popularity in the court and among the nobles of the Basileia. I am afraid you may never find a patronage under these circumstances should you keep your opposing position against the House of Makedon. My greatest fear is if they ever want to silence such denigration. Please heed my advice, my dearest friend, and may journeys bring you the knowledge that you enjoy the most in this mortal life.

***

έτος Κόσμου 6547

Gregorios, Strategos of Khachen, by the grace of God, to wise Germanos, Strategos of Antiocheia, his most kind greeting

Because we enjoyed the discussion at the grand feast in Konstantinoupolis, I send these words to seek your wisdom, I do not doubt your great mind will answer my troubles. I have received a convoy of merchants, under very distressing circumstances. They told me their plight, they petitioned for my guidance. I will use every skill of my being by the grace of God All-Mighty to alleviate their situation. The years I counted to no avail, but I have not, nor my realm has seen any trading caravans from the south, through the Persis, but I was fortunate to receive the riches through the routes from the north. Yet now I am faced with troubles, as I try to understand the situation. The convoy reached to my lands in a terrible condition, and their misery was breaking the heart of anyone seeing it. Few of them survived, and those told me they journeyed over great distances. The Bulan tribes to the north provided them safe passage, but before arriving to those lands, they were harassed by marauders. They insist they were not ordinary brigands, but attacked them outright in an organised fashion. The survivors tell that they were only warned, as it will be far worse if they do not abide the laws of their attackers. These barbarians let the rest to continue their journey after imposing their so-called laws. Some of the few survivors are our own citizens, yet there are a couple of them from the lands far beyond. They talk less than the others, their looks are of barbarians to the north, but to my much surprise, one of them told that he and his family are Christians. In his terrible tongue, it was hard to understand, but he talked about in his earnest face, that the fear of them is great, as if it is one of the horrors in the Scripture. He talked about a dawn of sun rising blue, bringing white doom over the lands. I could not understand any more, and I lost my patience.

Bishop Matthaios urged me to discuss further on the subject later, that he had heard of such issues in the east causing many seeking refuge in the peace of Basileia. He had heard about the subject in one of the great synods he had attended in the past. The Bishop of Kerts had told him about the refugees. They were not escaping the Bulan tribes of the north, but unknown tribes.

*

Germanos, Strategos of Khachen, by the grace of God, to vigorous Gregarios, Strategos of Antiocheia, his most kind greeting

I have received your words in great remorse. I must admit I was one of those distracted by the wars against the Muslims of the Sullum Sultanate, but your words carried the warning to awaken from the turmoil we are in. I can safely say that your concerns are heard soundly, as I had also received many petitioners, from my subjects as well as from the merchants of Venetia. They tell me that they are not able to carry on the trade through the lands of Syría, as the Muslims are also suffering from the loss of their trade partners from the east, from the great beyond. The Venetiki told me that they are willing to pay additional taxes, but they cannot do when the routes are not safe, and there are no more caravans arriving from the lands of Persis to the ports of Mesogeios. They warned me, no war in the name of Our Lord can remedy the situation, if we do not have any knowledge from the routes of silk and spice.

The worse side is the fact that their partners and acquaintances, whom the merchants were less keen on sharing, are also suffering. I can confirm that the riches from the east beyond are forsaken from us. I shall inform the Patriarchate of this grave matter, and I shall ask for guidance to deliver our petition for the ears of Basileus Eusthatios.

***

έτος Κόσμου 6558

To My Lord, Primus Inter Pares, His All-Holliness Ecumenical Patriarch, Archbishop Of Konstantinoupolis, Reverend And Divinely Favoured Ognen, I, Patriarch Stelian Of The Council Of Basileus Eusthatios Of The Makedon, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Fifty-Eight, Send Greeting In The Lord

Your Excellence, Your Eminence, My Lord Archbishop, I send these words in regards to your recent orders under the wise counsel I have received in your sublime presence. It is true that Basileus Eusthatios is furious upon learning his despotis and doukai under his rule have all failed to secure a reliable inflow of knowledge from the lands far beyond in the east. It is true that we have learnt all knowledge currently we possess but only from the merchants of Venetia. Their words indicate that there had been a series of great wars in the lands far beyond in the east, and many of the great cities on the routes of silk and spice that we know from our old archives had fallen against a great threat. It is true that as this threat is far from our lands, the existence of it caused disruption on the trade routes that we all rely on, but to unprecedented ends. As I had modestly suggested before, the Venetiki cannot be trusted because of their allegiance to the pretender Bishop of Rome, therefore we should provide all the aid we can afford to have in the service of our Basileus Eusthatios, for the good of our Basileia and our people, by the grace of God All-Mighty.

I believe we can only succeed if we send a veteran traveller, knowing how to parse lands without showing true intentions to avoid unnecessary troubles and by the grace of God. I believe such a task is not suitable for envoys of the Church nor for the nobility to rely on. I have secured a confidential acquaintance by the help of fellow bishops in the council true to the Patriarchate of Konstantinoupolis. Archousa Georgia from Myra of Kibyrrhaiotai came forward when the call of the Patriarchate was heard. She proposed the services of a young man, currently residing in her court, but he came from the monastery in Tracias of Kappadokias. Archousa of Myra claims that this man in his early ages had once travelled in great distances with the Genovezoi traders and their acquaintances, and later he had become a guide for Venetiki and their contacts in the lands of Skythes. I do not doubt the words of Archousa Georgia, and I have already prepared his initiation in one of the episkopie in Vanand of Phasianoi. I am presenting this proposal for your consideration, Your Excellence, Your Eminence.

***

έτος Κόσμου 6560

To My Lord, Primus Inter Pares, His All-Holliness Ecumenical Patriarch, Archbishop Of Konstantinoupolis, Reverend And Divinely Favoured Ognen, I, Bishop Nikoloz Of Vanand, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty, Send Greeting In The Lord

Your Excellence, Your Eminence, My Lord Archbishop, I send these words in regards to your orders for the initiation of the novice I had welcomed two years in the past. The young man came to the episkopie but in a broken condition, far worse than expected. I guided him to find the salvation he desperately needed in order to save his soul.

I am jubilant to report to Your Excellence, Your Eminence, that your orders shall be fulfilled regarding the mission I received from Patriarch Stelian of Konstantinoupolis. I must also add to the contrary to your trust in this affair that however your sublime goals are pure just as well as innocent, your subordinate Patriarch Stelian does not share these values. He specifically chose this novice to be trained for your orders in the matter but only in vain hopes of my own failure in your eyes. I will deliver the mission to its end, regardless of the harmful efforts of Patriarch Stelian. I have no doubt the Patriarchate will prevail, by the grace of God, and by the sound mind of Your Excellence, Your Eminence.

Publishers'-Edit 22.06.2023: Corrected publication mistakes. Correction on the format. Minor changes on the style of sub-section titles.

filcat · Apr 21, 2022

Book II - Volume II - The Historian - II

“– Much better. I know you, Rhomaios. You had arrived in these lands thirty summers in the past. You have learnt our customs by now. You can speak, as you learnt.
– Yes, Friend. I have learnt your ways, your people’s knowledge was bestowed upon me. I came from the lands of Fulin, as your officers from Han lands taught me. I travelled to see the riches of the lands that were told in the tales beyond the Scythia, as far as Serica. I wanted to earn an honest livi –
– Do you know what we do here to the ones that lie, what we say here about the liars as they quickly die?
– Y-Yes, Friend.”

έτος Κόσμου 6531

To Conte Giorgio of Mantua, I, Herakleios, Bishop of Kerts, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Thirty-One, Send Greeting In The Lord

Despite my repeated attempts by sending letters, I have to declare my disappointment, as I have not heard of the one, Demetrio of the Adorno, whom I personally favour. I was the one, who arranged his safe passage to your lands for the sanctuary he desperately needed, by the grace of Our Lord Saviour, Our Protector, Our Shepherd. You cannot leave my words without an answer, and I inquire, Conte Giorgio of Mantua, the whereabouts of our mutual acquaintance. I demand an explanation, otherwise I will have to inform your bishop for the questions I have, and I will have to ask for favours from my friends in Konstantinoupolis in this quest that I am writing for.

*

To My Bishop, Reverend And Divinely Favoured Heraklios, Demetrio of the Lowly Adorno Name Sends Greeting In The Lord

As the night grew colder, I received the words from the messenger sent by Conte Giorgio of Mantua, in the shadows dancing along the lights of the candles.

I am safe, my dear friend. The reason I can write only now, is none other than my being, my nature, my doings. I could not hold my words, for I was ever cursed with the curious questions, just you would say while smiling at me. It has been eleven months by now, and I was not in the position of questioning my situation, until I met the messenger in the shadows from Mantua.

On that day eleven months in the past, my patron-protector received an embassy from the city of Genova. As the Muslim envoys spoke, it was revealed that the embassy was actually led by Renard, Emir of Valénthia. They stayed for at least two days, and they expressed their good wishes for an extended hospitality from the Conte of Mantua. Their main concerns were for an understanding to be established between the Umayyads of Hesperia and the Karolidons of Burgundy. Their wishes were received with great suspicion by the Conte, but the days of conversations broke the icing looks the two party had for each other. It was, and it still is I hope, true that Queen Melisende of Burgundy, while not abiding the supremacy of the Makedon Basileus, she is also not in good terms with the pretender Bishop of Rome. Her countrymen did not initiate any aggression towards the city of Genova, the great port of the sea under the Muslim rule, therefore her name is spoken highly in the courts of Hesperia. It was a true wonder, my friend, that I saw the Emir of Valénthia and the Conte of Mantua, laughing together as they talked over the course of dinners in those two days.

On the third night of their visit, I helped to facilitate the conversations as I was expected. I spoke about lighter matters I could muster from my humble knowledge, such that how Strábōn would call the realm of our guests the Land of Rabbits. They listened with great interest and joy and laughter, and to my much surprise, I was even tested about more of the passages from Geōgraphiká, by none other than Emir of Valénthia.

After such delightful exchanges, I made my mistake.

I asked about his family in the most respectful way, and he joyfully explained his parents, and his predecessors, and his ancestors, and his household. Vilademuls. I remembered that house name. I, and my ever cursed courage. I told Renard of the Vilademuls that his grandparents were born to their parents, but with a different ceremony. His great-grandparents were Christians, serving the Lord All-Mighty.

The conversation ended that night.

In the morning following that night, I was taken from my chambers, against my protest, against my will, against my wishes to speak with the Conte. Two days of riding I counted, but I must reconsider my memory on that account, as they covered my head with a hood, after I tried to resist fiercely. I was brought to a mansion, locked in a luxurious chamber. Although I was fed, provided well, and given even quills and ink and papers, it was clear I was a captive. Three days later I met with my abductors, men of Emir of Valénthia. They told me of the agreement between him and the Conte, and I was given to his servitude, as a payment to spare my life – and a good gesture for possible fortunes in the coming days between the cities of Genova and Mantua. Conte Giorgio betrayed my trust, and sold me as a captive, a ransom, a servant. I was furious, yet I could not do any other resisting than boasting harsh words of threats. All futile, yet I forced my throat to the limits of the voice I had; that was the only protest I could make. They informed me that I was to be sent as a guest to the court of the magnificent ruler. I could not understand what they meant, but I had to accept my fate. In the day after, I was escorted to board a galley, to follow the route from Genova to the island of Sikelia. The ship made its course to cross the beastly sea, reaching Afrikí. More than a week’s time passed while sailing by the calm winds, ramming through the monstrous waves, looking at the stars and the coast and the horizon, then we arrived in the great city, the jewel of the rivers, the beauty of the lands beyond.

I am safe, my dear friend. I am writing these from the other side of our sea, in a mansion with a view looking at the ports of Alexándria, under the direct servitude for, under the benevolent patronage of, under the magnificent reign of Malik al-Muazzam Walid ibn Mukhtar of the Sullums.

The messenger informed me that I will be able to write to you, and thus I will send all the words I can summon of the days at my new home, but regularly I can only hope.

*

To My Dearest Friend, Heavenly Blessed With Great Mind and Eternally Cursed With Great Courage, I, Herakleios, Bishop of Kerts, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Thirty-One, Send Greeting In The Lord

After the words of this outrageous act I endured reading, I immediately sent mine in regretful anger to the Conte of Mantua, as well as my pleas to the Patriarchate of Alexándria. I will also write for any of the acquaintances I may have in the Holy Apostolic See of Mârkos. Even if we are opponents by the nature of Christos, I had good relations with them in the past, owing to my pilgrimages I was blessed with when I was merely a youngling. Rest assured my friend, for I will apply what little power I have to see your rescue.

*

To My Bishop, Reverend And Divinely Favoured Heraklios, Demetrio of the Lowly Adorno Name Sends Greeting In The Lord

I will forever be in your debt, my dear friend, yet it is now clear that it is unnecessary of you to seek my safety.

This is a land of wonders, my dear friend. I am alive and well and able to see these wonders of God All-Mighty, but only by His Blessing.

The messenger of the night revealed the truth behind the schemes of the Conte. A vile man now I see, but with great ambitions and supported by his cunning mind, Giorgios of Mantua is of the soul true to the Patriarch of Konstantinoupolis. The messenger assured me that I had acted exactly as the Conte had expected on that night in Mantua. It was by that act the Conte gained the trust of the Emir of Valénthia. Through this dastardly plan, they made an agreement of peace and other opportunities between their cities, and I was given to the servitude of the Emir as a gesture of good will. The Conte, on the other hand, had the privilege of knowing more than he had disclosed. Renard of the Vilademuls had been in the hopes of achieving good relations also with the court of the Sullums. In this delicate but fortunate calculation, the Conte had known that I would be sent as a gift to the Malik al-Muazzam. The messenger informed me that this is the vision of his master, for I to be the eyes and the ears and the words for the Conte in this court of Muslims.

And my friend, to my much surprise, this magnificent imperator of the vast lands in Aígyptos, he favours my presence, that I have been assured, by the words of others and by the treatment I have received so far. I am held with great respect among the other scholars of his court, in the name of Walid ibn Mukhtar of the Sullums. His court provides a safe haven and facilitates the gatherings and provides opportunities to many with the minds in passion of learning. The city of Alexándria is such beautiful just as you had spoken of to me years ago in the past, even though it may not be comparable to the overwhelming might of Konstantinoupolis. Yet the bustling ports and the ever-rich bazaars and the soothing tunes of the river and the lake, they do give the joy of life for those residing in the pearl of the sea. However, these charms are none in the eyes of mine, because I am amazed with the spell of another surprise I have encountered. The libraries of the Muslim imperator.

I am granted a mansion to carry on my studies, and I am strongly supported with multitudes of servants at my disposal, and I have the great fortune of meeting with great scholars from all corners of the world, I dare to say. But my friend, entirety of my mansion is none other than a library of scrolls, parchments, letters, manuscripts, books. And my friend, when I expressed my gratitude, the court servant laughed in delight, and he spoke, with the words that I am still dazzled by, and I do know you would be too: “This is only a small part of the collection of His Majesty.”

Even if I am grateful to God All-Mighty for the adventures of my life so far, I do know the lure of the fortunes I am currently enjoying, my friend, do not worry. Walid ibn Mukhtar of the Sullums has an unprecedented nature, as I have seen with my own eyes how he provides the riches and the justice in his reign. He invites and accepts all merchants regardless of their faith, but then he persecutes wrathfully those who forsake the fairness in their trade. He delegates his power over the justice in the realm, but this is only an illusion I can see through, as he does not refrain to challenge those who may defy his own vision. He swiftly ordered the execution of murderers on one day, and then he defied the decisions of the clergy of his own faith regarding a dispute among one of the noble families, by ruling against them without hesitation. The Imams and their leader wield great authority, yet they are not immune to the laws when their imperator intervenes as he deems. Besides the incomprehensible numbers of his household, he had established an ever-powerful reign by his strong will in great confidence of his words, for he personally accepts any envoy of any ruler from any land. Nevertheless, I must express my amazement for the Malik al-Muazzam, for his respect towards the scholars under his patronage.

Yes, my friend, I am in good company of many scholars and artists and men of words, under the protection of this Muslim imperator. I am not held against my will, and for that I am certain, since I was bestowed with a grand meeting before the presence of His Majesty Walid ibn Mukhtar of the Sullums. I asked if I have the freedom to leave his lands when I want, and he spoke sternly: “Dimitriws min Adurnu, you shall whenever you wish, but then I would question your sanity. Where would a man find the wonders and the riches my realm provides, for it is my word, there is no other land as the Misr al-Sullumiyyah.”

Thus my friend, I am safe, yet I am aware. I am aware of the visions the Malik al-Muazzam may have, and he holds my being under his protection in his court for those visions, of which I cannot estimate the nature will be, but only known to him.

***

έτος Κόσμου 6560

To the indolent Bishop Nikoloz of Vanand, I, Patriarch Stelian Of The Council Of Basileus Eusthatios Of The Makedon, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty, Send These Words

You despicable man with the name Nikoloz, your foolish attempts to send your deplorable words to Our Lord, Primus Inter Pares, His All-Holliness Ecumenical Patriarch, Archbishop of Konstantinoupolis, Reverend and Divinely Favoured Ognen, those attempts of yours will ultimately fail. I do remember your horrid nature in the synods we met of the past. I will not tolerate your miserable efforts in complaining against my honourable reputation. How dare you try to attack my name, I who hold the blessed title of Patriarch of The Council. How dare you try to question my passion for the Patriarchate. How dare you try to interfere with my affairs in the matters of our Basileia. I will seek justice in the eyes of His All-Holliness Ecumenical Patriarch, for you are truly lost in the delusions of insanity. I will not let your disgusting accusations harm my position, and I will certainly see your quest failed. It is my initiative, not yours, of sending a man of good nature to be the carrier of the words from the lands beyond for the Patriarchate. You are merely a bishop of a faraway and forgotten corner of our glorious Basileia. You will learn your place when it comes to the holy hierarchy. You will only obey when you are given an order by the Patriarchate.

***

έτος Κόσμου 6563

To My Bishop Nikoloz, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty-Three, I Send Greeting In The Lord

I arrived in the city Atirawi on the delta to the north of the Kaspia.

I have observed that the locals I had met in the past seem to be busier in their hectic happiness, as this small city of wooden walls has flourished since then. There are more cottages and buildings of both wooden and stone, but I can say that there are still nomads surrounding the city, incoming, resting, and outgoing, of merchants, of wanderers, of hunters, of herders, residing in their tents. The word yurt, of which they name for tent, I do remember from my journeys in the past, yet there are also those now, who name it ger, for which they call their home.

Of the most I am able to understand the tongues, now I have learnt it is one of the many other variants. Unfortunately, those spoken by the ones living in their gers, I have to admit I do not know their tongues, even if I can hear a bit of similarity to the ones I am familiar with.

I have made my preparations for the journey beyond the delta. The locals behave friendly when I show my skills of speaking their tongue, and yet when I meet someone of a different sound, they try their best to help with my requests, in any common tongue we can find on the occasion. What I heard from the Khazars of this city, is that their khan is a just man, and most I have met so far are happy to live in this corner of the world. However, I have not met any Christians, not among wanderers nor merchants. Many of the nomads are worshipping their strange gods. But as I said to you before, to your much surprise, there are those also following the word of the God, through the Law of Moysís, in these lands north of the Kaspia.

Unfortunately I could not find my close acquaintances I had nine years ago. I was counting on meeting the confidants I was able to find back then, but now I do see it is a futile attempt. I do know the way but only for travelling up to this land, thus I will have to establish new contacts for the roads ahead, assuming there are roads to follow. I do not have high hopes, therefore I will plan for the worst misfortunes that may happen.

Father Nikoloz, I need to write once again, I am eternally grateful for your guidance and help. Yet I have to admit, as I undertook this journey, I am still lost in the sleepless nights of agonies. I am still haunted by the nightmares since I had been summoned for this quest, depriving me of nights of the tranquillity. It gave me immense honour to be considered by the Holy Patriarchate for such an important task, yet as before, I lost my days of the serenity in the horror of my sin once again, however I was forgiven. The conversations we had with your blessed words soothed my soul, but once I started my journey for the mission, the nightmares have returned to curse on my nights.

*

To The One Forgiven Of His Sins, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty-Three, I, Bishop Nikoloz Of Vanand, Send Greeting In The Lord

Dear child of the church, I am delighted to read your words, and for you managed to arrive in those lands as you promised. I do not have any doubts in your skills, I do not suspect even a bit of your soul, and I have the great trust in you blessed by Our Lord Iesous the Christos.

I am afraid I have to write in discreet words to protect you, but I will never hesitate to send my letters to you, for they may guide you. I am not in the fear of my lowly life, but of yours. I told you this before, as the mission you are given is a sacred quest in the eyes of the Patriarchate, yet the earthly rulers and the ambitions of men are ever devious in corrupting the souls of those who are supposed to bring the divinely salvation. Remember the conversations we had before you left for the journey. You must be more careful than you ever can be, as the dangers may come not only from the lands of your quest, but unfortunately by the very nature of your quest, even from the lands of your home. The Patriarch of The Council may have other plans that we are still unaware of. Be vigilant, child, and God All-Mighty will protect you, for He is the One Who loves us. Walk your path knowing that you are forgiven of your sins by the words of Our Lord, and the peace will arrive in your nights for you are doing the work of Him.

*

To My Bishop Nikoloz, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty-Three, I Send Greeting In The Lord

Unfortunately, I had to halt my plans of departure for a while after my preparations, as the city have started to receive large groups of wanderers.

According to the locals, most are riding from the north and the further east, but not moving nor wandering for their seasonal needs at all. They are migrating, and actually, they are fleeing. The answer to my obvious questions was ominous: There is a war between the tribes in the north.

I have met and talked with many as possible, trying to understand who are fighting in this war, a war that makes many flee their realms, but I gave up in frustration, as most of the answers have become obscure and incomprehensible to my knowledge. Whoever the belligerents are, I sense that it might be related to the grim rumours that instigated my quest.

I do know that I am regarded as a stranger, yet I am unable to understand the reason behind the vague answers I have received so far.

I began to search for companions who can guide through the pathways beyond the sea, who know the foreign tongues I do not know, and whom hopefully I can learn these from. I persuaded six riders of the steppes for the journey ahead, telling them I would like to travel to enjoy the riches and making trade agreements along the way. They are from the lands far beyond, speaking those tongues I am unfamiliar with. Even though they did not say much about their faraway home, they gladly agreed to teach me their words. One of them is from a realm called the Chan, and the others call themselves Mongóloi.

*

To My Bishop Nikoloz, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty-Three, I Send Greeting In The Lord

During the days I was waiting for the city to calm down with her new inhabitants, I was approached by two citizens of our Basileia.

Theodotos is the younger of the two, a man with stern eyes, looking directly at one’s soul, as if trying to value the worth of his acquaintance. He walks with confident steps, while his head is turning towards any sound he hears, but not in a fearful manner. His words are supporting his vigilance, they are coming from a strong heart, his hands are always open, always ready.

Ioseph, on the other hand, is a man of silence. When he talks, the words are reduced to a couple of mere sounds. When he first talked, that was only reserved to explain for what and how he came to find me. His eyes are always narrowed down, but rather than calculating, they only show the dismissive attitude he has for anyone he talks to.

While Ioseph is keeping his soul away from anyone that might try to understand his stance, Theodotos has been open to those who would like to talk to him. They told me that they rode from the Basileia in order to find and join me in my quest. They revealed their scrolls sealed by the Patriarchate, showing me they are tasked with aiding me in my journey. I told them that I am happy to see fellow citizens from our home, and accepted their companionship. I had no other choice, as they already found me, knowing who I am, and for what purpose I am travelling in these lands. We will journey together once the paths are cleared off the chaos of the fleeing bands.

Yet I do understand what you tried to warn me of, Father Nikoloz. I trust none of them.

*

To The One Forgiven Of His Sins, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty-Three, I, Bishop Nikoloz Of Vanand, Send Greeting In The Lord

Dear child of the church, I am in regret that I was the one to send you to those lands, but alone as the task required such. It was my fear that the Patriarchate might have other plans but only for the ambitions of those that are bereft of the compassion. I do not know the names you wrote about, and I will investigate through my fellow priests in other episkopie. I am in regret that I failed to protect you, I should have guided you better, I should have prepared you better for your journey. No, I should not have even tasked a soul for this journey, which already has become dangerous I can now see. You should consider a way to return back, as I cannot take such a risk for you, not for any reason, however sacred the quest is.

*

To My Bishop Nikoloz, In The Year Of The Universe Six-Thousand-Five-Hundred-Sixty-Three, I Send Greeting In The Lord

Father Nikoloz, you do not need to worry, because I have my faith in The Lord, and I know I can accomplish this duty for the Patriarchate, for the innocent souls of the true faith, and for the sin I committed, I have to repent. I see this task is a pathway for my absolution.

The migrating tribes are lower in numbers, and we will journey beyond the delta of Atirawi in the morrow. However, the actual reason for my decision is that my nightmares have ended.

While we were accommodating in the new tents I acquired during the long wait, three days ago a band of riders arrived in the city. I was intrigued with their illustrious might, and I asked among the locals to learn more about their nature. I was told the band is leading a prominent couple in their journey through the steppes, riding from lands far beyond.

In the nights of the city, fires arise from the many hearths on the plains surrounding the wooden walls for gathering groups of riders, serving as taverns of the open fields, without the limits of the walls one might expect from such facilities. The prominent couple’s band was resting around such a hearth slightly distant from the walls on the night of their arrival. I moved my company closer to theirs, and I approached the hearth surrounded with their tents. Theodotos asked to join me, providing his support in my plot. I agreed, while concealing my discomfort for his presence.

I requested an audience with the leader of the riders, but in the tongue of Toúrkoi common to these lands. At first they looked at me with suspicion, then one of their servants answered me, but with a question, asking for my purpose. I told them I am a fellow traveller, and I would like to share my knowledge of the lands. I told I would be delighted if I can be of any help, and I asked in return I would like to know about their journeys, so that I can establish secure contacts for trade. They asked me if I was a trader, but with eyes under knitted brows, and at that point I sensed that I made a mistake. Yet I continued, answering to reassure them that indeed I am a trader.

The servant of the band repeated his question, and I was certain of the mistake I made. The other riders stood up, readying their garments, along with their blades. The servant asked once again, but a different word he used; one that I do not know its meaning as of yet: He asked if I have a tamga.

I heard the grumbling of Theodotos, then he uttered his words: “I do not understand what you are talking with these barbarians, but it does not work as you think.” I turned my head towards him to concur, hoping to silence him, but before I could show my response, he readied his sword: “Get behind me, before they can realise their threatening looks into action.”

Before the blades were to be drawn, I saw Ioseph, approaching with open hands. The silent nature of him was no more, and his loud voice was resolute at every sound of every letter in every word he used.

He spoke the strange tongue of the band.

Ioseph waited for a while, to receive a confirmation from the band that was ready to fight only a moment ago, and approached further only after they accepted his words, which sounded as a peace offering. They talked for a long time, generally in lower tones. Suddenly, the burst of laughter arose from the side of the band. I was confused, amazed, and relieved, whereas Theodotos grumbled with a sigh.

We parted from the hearth, and returned to our own side of the plains. The rest of the group I gathered were sitting around the fire, and Theodotos parted to rest. Ioseph sat next to the fire, and locked his eyes on it in the silence since the encounter he was in. I waited until the deep of the night. When I deemed that it was the moment for my questions, he spoke before I could. He was also waiting for the others to sleep, but to talk to me. “Do not tell words of lies to the people we will see in the steppes. Especially lies that you cannot support to show as if true. Fellow traveller. They understand these words, but not as you dismiss their true meanings. You are not their fellow, and you are not riding with them.”

I was astonished with his answer, yet I was able to ask in response to what he told me: “Then how should I have addressed them?”

“Friend. That will suffice.”

On the contrary to his mild voice, his words were harsher than angry screams. I asked how he learnt to speak the tongue of the Mongóloi. He remained in silence. Regardless, I kept asking him how he persuaded the band out of the clash, as his silence grew longer. I told him I am eager to learn the tongue of these people he is able to speak. He broke his silence, but with the shortest answer he could summon.

“No. Ask your other companions.”

My frustration for his taciturn demeanour was about to fail my calm voice. He did not even bother to look at me, but started to tend the fire with a stick. I asked him about the meaning of the word tamga, but was left again without any response. Then I raised my voice: “If you are not going to talk, then as you wish. But at least tell me who they are.”

He stopped, dropped the stick, and looked at me, but without moving his head. “We will need to acquire a tamga, if you are going to introduce us as merchants to others as we travel.” Then he paused, as if trying to find the necessary words. “I do not know who they are. They are of noble blood, and you should accept it these people are not simple-minded barbarians as you expect, if you are determined to continue in this quest of yours.” He paused for a longer moment than before. He stood up, intending to leave the uneasy conversation we were having, then he said the last words for that night.

That night I slept but without the haunted horrors of my past. Father Nikoloz, I will continue in my journey, and I have my faith in God All-Mighty, that He guides me with His devices ever-unknown to us. I will accomplish this sacred quest I am tasked with.

I feel my heart is beating faster than before, since that night, and even as I am writing these to you. I was nervous about the roads ahead of me, but that night I was intrigued by what Ioseph talked about, and in particular by the last words he said before he finally parted to rest.

“I do not know, and that bothers me. I could only understand what the words are, but I do not know what they meant with them. They told me they are of the daughters from rich lake.”

Publishers'-Edit 26.03.2024: Corrected publication mistakes. Correction on the format.

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