CHAPTER XIII: The Khanate of Five Kingdoms

The realm of Tsin-Quinqan, as its name belied, was once five different kingdoms, of which Tsin was the smallest. Tsin the helpless! Tsin the precarious! Wedged as it was between the fickle Eastern Sea and bigger, bully neighbors, its existence was ever threatened with tide and turmoil. But through such adversity the realm of Tsin managed to eke out an embattled existence, and its people grew hardy and unmindful of hardships -- proud of the fact that they were survivors -- unbent and unbowed. From this tough stock rose a remarkable line of khans who would shake the pillars of the Eastern World with their glorious deeds, and like shooting stars they would cast wonderment across the firmament; but all too soon that mercurial light would fail, leaving only a legacy of darkness and bright but fading memories.

The first of this line was Cui-Chullain, named the Fierce, the marshal of Tsin's small but disciplined army. When it became clear that his predecessor, Baothan -- a weak-willed Khan prone to acquiescing to his neighbors -- was ready to surrender sovereignty of Tsin (while retaining his titular post) rather than risk a war he was ill equipped to prosecute, Cui-Chullain forcefully grabbed the reins of power and banished the Khan and his family from the realm. This coup, although just in saving Tsin from falling prey to its rivals, had far-reaching consequences for Cui-Chullain and his descendants. As Khan, the crown sat uneasily on Cui-Chullain's head, and his enemies called him 'Usurper' and 'Bloodthirsty', and Tsin was in a continuous state of war throughout his reign.

Cui-Chullain proved to be a tough and tireless general, and his soldiers were fervent in their adoration for the man, who slept and ate with them in the mud and rain, and who awarded positions in the army and at court based on bravery and merit, rather than privilege and parentage. But forced to fight a war on two fronts, Cui-Chullain was driven in desperation to the very shores of the ocean -- or at least so his enemies thought. But the wily Chullain knew well the capricious currents and tidal flow of his native land, and he lured the vast armies of Noor and Geata into a trap. With the ousted Khan Baothan in the van of Tsin's enemies -- an iconic puppet paraded about to lend credence to this 'righteous crusade' -- the invaders marched methodically down the sandy shores, unhindered and fully expecting an easy victory. Cui-Chullain and his veteran group of campaigners awaited them on the high ground just above a seemingly-serene bay the local fishermen called the 'Cataract'.

The tides of the Cataract ran counter to the flow of the waters along most of the coast in spring, with the ebbing of neap tide reaching its lowest point just before noon. All that morning there was a desperate battle along the foothills above the shore, as the vastly superior numbers of the Nooris and the Geats surrounded the beleaguered forces of Cui-Chullain, ranging in great numbers far out on the sandy shelf of the bay, left barren by low tide. As the sun ranged past high noon in the cloudless sky, there came a great roar as the Cataract suddenly filled with turbulent waters. With Cui-Chullain's men valiantly holding the high ground, the armies of their enemies, weighed down by cumbersome mail and heavy leather boots, were swept seaward by the violent undertow. Those few survivors left clinging in terror and bewilderment to their rocky footholds were easy marks for the bowmen above. Within an hour of the cataclysm, the battle was over, the armies of Noor and Geata were decimated, and the deposed Baothan Khan was captured by Cui-Chullain, his former marshal. As a final insult, Cui-Chullain had Baothan unceremoniously locked in a large falconer's cage, where he spent the rest of his wretched days perched from the ceiling of the palace he once called home.

But Cui-Chullain was not able to follow up on his stunning victory. Even as he assembled his forces for an invasion of the now defenseless khanates of Geata and Noor, he was stricken with a debilitating illness that left him bed-ridden for weeks. Many whispered that he had been poisoned by his enemies, and to the learned lore-masters of the land this seemed so, as none could treat him, or even offer him some relief from his agony. When it became clear that the Khan would not long survive this wasting sickness, his son, Timur-lenk, was recalled home from abroad.

Timur-lenk, or Tamer the Lame in Common Speech, so-called for the halting limp he sustained from a failed assassination attempt when he was but a child, had been sent forth for his safety's sake far from Tsin by his concerned father, and was raised by kindly kings and chieftains in foreign lands. Ever threatened by impending death, Timur spent much of his formative years in travel, always one step ahead of a hidden blade or well-aimed arrow. But such was the young Prince's state of mind that he never knew fear -- a trait characteristic of his House -- and welcomed the chance of visiting new lands, learning the languages and discovering how things worked. When he reached the Khan's deathbed, he was full ready to ascend to the throne of his dying father. And Cui-Timur proved more than capable of filling his father's formidable shoes, lame though he might be, earning for himself the titles of 'Conqueror' and 'Emperor' in his long and storied career.

It was Cui-Timur who developed Tsin's imposing cavalry, modeled on the fierce mounted tribesmen he had once seen sweeping across the high-plains of Hildorien in his years of travel; and ever after Cui-Timur was seen astride a horse, leading his forces with his crippled leg strapped to a stirrup. The added mobility of horse warfare allowed his forces to fight on several fronts, and to fall upon their unsuspecting enemies seemingly at a moment's notice. In addition, the young Khan set about building a fleet, having learned the rudiments of shipbuilding away in the south; for Cui-Timur had seen the tides of a nation's fortune turn on the success of its navy, both in war and peace. Armed thus with advances in military strategy and armed might, Cui-Timur set about avenging the death of his father, and with a restless heart and searching mind, spent the next twenty years conquering one after another of Tsin's neighboring states, and adjudging the fate of his fallen enemies from the saddle, the only true throne of his early rule.

First of the khanates to fall was Noor, one of the co-conspirators in the invasion of Tsin. Noor was the home-in-exile of Baothan Khan's son, Baolach. But Baolach was neither as weak-willed nor timid as his father was. He deftly eluded Cui-Timur's troops, who had been sent to search for him, and slipped off southward from the sack of Noor's capital. In time Baolach made his way to the camps of the Balchoth in distant Hildorien, and offered his services to the great Chieftain Khalid Barbaratha, father of Khamul the Butcher. There, the vengeful Baolach whispered cunningly to Khalid, and afterwards to his cruel and ambitious son, of the tremendous stores of riches to be gotten on the Gold Coast, setting in motion events that led to the greatest conflagration the East has ever known.

But for the present, Cui-Timur continued his dogged advance along the coast. Soon after the fall of Noor, the mountainous northern Khanate of Xu capitulated without so much as a blade being drawn. The realm of Talamh and its vaunted army proved to be made of sterner stuff than the Khanates of Xu and Noor. With the backing of the cynical Khan of Geata, who shrewdly managed to use other kingdoms' armies to fight his battles, the Talmhai boldly withstood the invading forces of Tsin. A protracted siege ensued, but with the newly-built sea power of Tsin, a naval blockade effectively strangled Talamh. Starving and eventually abandoned by its ally, Geata, the Talmhai surrendered to Cui-Timur. This left only Tsin's arch-nemesis, Geata, to stand against Cui-Timur's growing empire.

The desperate Khan of Geata, having exhausted the resources of his allies, sought other means to maintain his power. Knowing that his army could not withstand the brilliant and relentless Cui-Timur, the Khan of Geata found a partner with a seemingly endless supply of manpower at its disposal. For Khalid Barbaratha, Chieftain of the Balchoth, had sent an embassy with messages of goodwill and succor to the embattled Khan, and the leader of the delegation was none other than Baolach, son of the former Khan of Tsin. The conniving Baolach knew well the mind of his master, and he had his own vengeful agenda. With subtle words he gained the confidence of the aging and fretful Khan, and dispatched requisitions to Khalid for a mercenary force to bolster the army of Geata.

Within months whole clans of the Balchoth and their subordinate tribes came streaming across the frontiers from Hildorien. Like a virulent swarm of locust descending on the fertile fields of Geata, the Balchoth set up their great camps, evicting rightful landowners and causing much consternation amongst the citizens of Geata. The Balchoth treated their hosts with disdain, and took what they would from farmers, freemen and nobles alike. Great misery was there among the people, particularly those displaced in the south, but the indignant pleas of the Geats to their Khan proved fruitless; for he who had so shrewdly used other kingdom's resources to further his own ends now found himself outplayed in the very game at which he so long excelled. Reluctant to lose the very allies he hoped would quell the invasion of Cui-Timur, but galled nonetheless at having to pay for this mercenary horde that deluged his borders, the Khan walked the tightrope of diplomacy, teetering ever closer to the brink of oblivion. To this day, the ravages of mercenary armies and free companies still blight the Gold Coast; a legacy of ancient misrule and corruption.

But Cui-Timur proved shrewder than either of his enemies. Having received news of the alliance of Geata and the Balchoth, the Khan of Tsin and his vast army of horsemen boarded ships -- the greatest armada of its day -- and sailed southward down the coast past Geata, harboring on the barren shores of Hildorien. Rising thus from the sea unseen and unexpected, Cui-Timur and his cavalry drove northward and not southward as expected, and fell upon the Balchoth camps at unawares, swiftly routing each in turn. The common folk of Geata, fearing more the depredations of their guests, the Balchoth, than the swords of the invaders, hailed Cui-Timur as a liberator. The Geatish army put up only a cursory defense of their land, offering token resistance in order to secure favorable surrender terms from the generous Timur. Having been forsaken by both his people and his army, the Khan of Geata was decapitated by his own servants, and his crowned head was sent as a present to the conqueror. Upon beholding the gory gift, Cui-Timur took the crown from the dead Khan's head and placed it on his own, and proclaimed himself emperor of Tsin-Quinqan, the Khanate of Five Kingdoms, with these words:

'A blade in the dark did cut to the bone,

But saved was I by chance from sudden death --

A lame child sent forth by a father's love,

Returned in time to hear his final breath.

Revenge I craved, and sated on a blade

With blood from those who would seek to disown

My house. And now I place upon my head

The fruits of victory -- this fallen crown.

Let it thus be told that I have cometh!

The very hand that smote with cruel sword

Shall seek to bind the bloody wounds of war.

Glad shall all the lands be to call me Lord!'

And so Cui-Timur proved not only foresighted in the manner of war, but in peace as well, granting favorable terms to the defeated lands and offering near-autonomous privileges to the subject princes who governed in his stead. Still, there were rebellions throughout the newly-founded empire, and Cui-Timur spent much of his later rule quelling these insurrections, for even the most enlightened conqueror is seen by the defeated elite as an encroacher on their individual liberties; or, more likely, interfering with their ability to subjugate the common folk themselves. But Cui-Timur wisely sought out the instigators of sedition rather than punishing their followers, and by the end of his reign the vast majority of his empire submitted to his rule, perceiving at last the bright prospect of peace that had for so long proved elusive.

Cui-Timur's reign spanned more than thirty years, yet he was not old when he met his untimely death. Still vigorous and bellicose as he approached his fiftieth birthday, the emperor sought to expand his empire, but on a military expedition to the far north, he and a party of his nobles rashly decided to hunt hill trolls on the high moors. The Emperor's party rousted a slumbering troll from its cave, but did not reckon on the beast's sudden and violent attack. The bristling behemoth made straight for Cui-Timur, and the great Khan defended himself valorously, but the powerful troll broke the neck of Timur's horse, sending the emperor sprawling. Wounded and lame, Cui-Timur was unable to stave off the infuriated troll and was crushed before his aides could kill the monster. Thus ended the reign of the first emperor of Tsin-Quinqan.

Cui-Timur's firstborn son, Ealain, was duly crowned as Khan of Tsin and Emperor of the Five Kingdoms. Though he shared none of his illustrious father's battle lust, Cui-Ealain was no less formidable in protecting his lands. He proved to be a capable administrator, a shrewd diplomat, and was well-loved by his people. This was due in large part to the foresightedness of Cui-Timur. Even though he had been embroiled in the all-consuming labors of empire-building, Cui-Timur did not forsake the education of his son, remembering well that what he learned in his youth proved to be the building-blocks for his later success. And so, by the time Ealain had reached manhood and eventually ascended to the throne, he was well-traveled and immersed in the regimes of engineering, mathematics and statecraft.

His reign was notable for great public works, of a marvelous system of roads and aqueducts, and the building of commercial centers to better serve the needs of his empire. In addition, Cui-Ealain was renowned as a patron of the arts and of learning. Under his rule scholars and sculptors and craftsmen of exceeding skill flocked to Tsin-Quinqan, and the realm flowered in beauty and knowledge, so much so that it was said the empire was 'roofed in gold, paved in marble and ruled by the wise.' Cui-Ealain erected the splendid, many-domed imperial palace with its fabled hanging gardens, and the Libraries of Xu and Geata, great halls of learning and lore.

But though Cui-Ealain's empire proved an incomparable pearl in the vast and primitive East, the glories of his reign were overshadowed by ominous storm clouds that spread a menacing darkness across all the lands. For it is said that in the tenth year of Cui-Ealain's reign emissaries from the Dark Lord Sauron sought audience with the emperor, and they offered him a ring, a gold band unadorned with jewels nor inscribed with runes, but supposedly steeped with much power and a potent weapon to rule the hearts of men. This they offered as a token of friendship and esteem from their mighty lord, if Cui-Ealain would but ally with Sauron the Great.

'And why should I wish to rule the hearts of men?' Cui-Ealain asked of Sauron's envoy. 'I may rule their lands, I may even order them about bodily, but a king cannot win the hearts of his people through domination.'

'It matters not how you wish to rule your people,' one emissary growled insolently, 'we offer you a great gift from the hand of Lord Sauron himself. Such a prize should not be gainsaid. It is perilous to refuse the friendship of Sauron.'

Cui-Ealain gazed long and hard at the ambassador of Mordor, and at the ring he held before him. The grim silence lasted for many uncomfortable moments without any sign of surcease, when the irritated emissary snapped, 'Yea or nay, my lord, will you accept this mighty token from Sauron the Great? What answer have thee for Mordor?'

But the wise emperor, although troubled in mind, was not cowed and replied thusly: 'In one hand you present a token of goodwill, a gift that appears plain to the eye but seethes with a hidden malice. Such is the manner of your feigned offer of friendship as well. For in the other hand, hidden beneath your black robes, you hold veiled threats as real as a dagger. Friends are not made at knifepoint, nor are alliances sealed in such a way, save by desperate fools. Be gone, foul servant of darkness, your words are laced with the poison of your master! Tell Lord Sauron he must forcibly take that which he thinks he can deceitfully steal!'

And the emissaries of Mordor were driven forth from the realm of Tsin-Quinqan in disgrace, and from thenceforward the malevolent eye of Sauron was set against Cui-Ealain and his House; but the evil seeds of the Dark Lord found fertile ground elsewhere in the East. Far to the south, the envoy of Mordor was well-received in the camps of the Balchoth, and shown much honor before the seat of Khalid Barbaratha. Yet such was the will of Sauron that the chosen instrument of his evil was not Khalid, but his ambitious son, Khamul. The emissaries of the Dark Lord made their overtures in secret to Khamul, and they offered unto him the Ring of Power; and they played upon his vanity and his lust for domination.

'Your father, Khalid, has grown weak in his old age,' an emissary hissed, 'he no longer leads your warriors into glorious battle, preferring to waste his waning years in these dusty cow pastures. In a few years your legacy shall be naught but a petty-kingdom of mud, straw and dung.'

'Greater lords have treated your folk like sheep fattened for the slaughter,' added another. 'With impunity the Khan of Tsin-Qinqan exterminated the Balchoth in Geata without so much as a stern word from Khalid. The enemies of the Balchoth openly mock the once-proud House of Barbaratha!'

'Your father fritters away the might of your tribe, an old miser counting his niggardly wealth in patch-work tents and a few naggish horses,' the first continued with unrelenting pressure. 'Is there none in the House of Barbaratha with the will to conquer? Shall Sauron the Great go elsewhere to seek a leader formidable enough to be called his friend and ally?'

A fierce light smoldered in the eyes of Khamul as a great hunger was awakened in his dark heart. 'The Lord Sauron need not look any further for a great leader of men, for there is none who can match me,' the haughty Khamul proclaimed as he greedily snatched the ring from the emissary's outstretched hand. Placing it on his finger and admiring its enticing brilliance, Khamul smiled in satisfaction and stated, 'Yes, I know what I must do.'

The following evening, a splendid feast was given in honor of the delegation from Mordor. A huge open pavilion of silk and cloth of gold was erected in the center of the Balchoth camp to make room for the throng of clan-leaders and lesser chieftains of vassal tribes who were in attendance. These sat in order of precedence at many a long trestle arrayed in a crescent around the table of honor, at the center of which sat the Chieftain Khalid, with his son, Khamul, at his right hand, and the emissaries of Sauron to his left. Khalid raised a goblet of wine in toast to his new allies, but no sooner had he gulped down its contents, he began to sputter and hack.

'What is the matter, old man, cannot take your wine?' Khamul mocked.

Khalid struggled up from the table in dismay, but was unable to speak. Gasping, he placed his hands on his son's shoulders, silently imploring aid; yet when he gazed in Khamul's eyes he beheld not respect or concern, but treachery. In anger, Khalid reached for his dagger, but Khamul callously pushed his father over the table, sending plates and pitchers crashing as the chieftain tumbled face-first into the dirt.

Khalid's bodyguard and those loyal to their chieftain roared and rushed with blades drawn to protect him, but Khamul had prepared for such eventualities. Bows twanged from the darkness and cut down those who opposed Khamul, and armed men surrounded the pavilion, ready to quell any further opposition with their spears. The ruthless Khamul calmly strode forward from the wreckage of the table and stood over his choking father, placing a heavy boot on the struggling chieftain's neck.

'I am the Balchothard,' he boldly announced, using his father's title. 'Is there any here who would question my claim?'

A silence fell on those in attendance, until the cynical Baolach, always knowing which way the wind blew, bowed before Khamul and loudly proclaimed, 'Hail Khamul! Hail the Balchothard!'

Whether they perceived the change as favorable to their positions, or were merely too shocked to do otherwise, the remaining guests at the feast all bowed and took up the chorus as well, raising their swords in honor of their new chieftain. Khamul, too, raised his sword, then grasped it two-handed on the pommel and jabbed the blade downwards with all his might into his father's back.

With the quivering sword jutting like a warning from the skewered body of Khalid, Khamul bellowed, 'No longer shall we beat the bounds of wealthier kingdoms like wretched curs, content with scraps fallen from the tables of the mighty. We shall have war! We shall bathe the plains of Hildorien red with the blood of our enemies! No one shall stand against the Balchoth! We shall build an empire on the bones of those who oppose us! To war!"

'To war!' Khamul's subjects howled and shrieked like mindless were-beasts slathering for meat; for it is said in that hour that the Ring of Sauron elevated Khamul's power of command to staggering heights and drove his minions to frenzy. Soon all the tribes under the sway of the Balchoth rose like a vast swarm of angry hornets to answer the call of Khamul, and the Great Horde cut a swathe of bloody destruction across the plains.