Khanuk Delkhii Yertöns

Khanuk watched as the boy lapsed into unconsciousness, his words resonating within his ears. I have freed you… His tail and ears twitched nervously as he watched the boy for any signs of life. He was breathing faintly, but gushing bright red blood onto the crisp white snow. This boy, now rapidly bleeding out and twitching in the frigid climate, had awakened him from his thousand-year sleep and led him from his prison. This boy was his Süns-Ezen, a powerful shaman and master of the spirit world.

Khanuk stepped towards the boy, carefully avoiding the swirling pattern drawn in snow and stone. He gently scooped him up, cradling him in the crook of his elbow. The boy could have seen no more than fifteen winters, yet he radiated power, even in his weakened state. Khanuk turned back to the singers flanking the cavern entrance, “Save him,” he commanded, his voice soft and laced with concern, contradicting his rough appearance. The male singer stood, keeping his head bowed, and hoisted the woman from the snow. He turned back to Khanuk, carefully avoiding his dour gaze.

“Khanuk Delkhii Yertöns Khaan, please follow me to the Yajiud war-camp.” The man twisted his hand into a claw-like form and pushed it outward from the base of his throat, a gesture of respect and worship to Delkhii Yertöns. The women behind him mimicked the gesture and bent at her waist. Both spun on their heels and hurried through the snow, leaving Khanuk to follow. So he followed, keeping his gate steady as not to jostle the boy in his arms. As he trudged through the thickening snow, the flowing blood of beast and boy joined and dyed the ivory snow in their wake a dark crimson hue.

The procession rounded a bend in the invisible path the singers seemed to be following and marched behind a nearby rock formation. Three stout horses stood waiting, shoving their short muzzles through the snow in desperate search of long-buried grass. Small wooden saddles lay nestled into their shaggy winter coats. One of the horses, a large stallion wore a pair of saddle bags, one obviously stuffed with blankets or clothing, the other likely laden with provisions. As Khanuk watched the humans approach their horses and quickly check the tack, he realized how their warm dress and their tan and rosy skin contrasted with the boy’s bare chest and ashen face. “You must cover him, this wind will chill his heart.” The male singer nodded removed and quickly removed a thick fur-lined robe and blanket from the stallion’s saddle bag.

Khanuk knelt in the cold powder, grudgingly allowing the human to adjust the boy he carried, slipping the robe over his head of long, dark hair. He allowed him to lay back upon Khanuk’s arms before draping the blanket across his limp body. The man turned away and swiftly mounted his mare, the woman followed suit, and dug his heels into his mount's side, wordlessly sending her trotting out into the merciless winter. The woman followed and Khanuk trod after then. The man took the lead and set a rapid speed, for which Khanuk was grateful, his concern for his Süns-Ezen mounting. As he walked Khanuk focused on a rune that lay branded on the apex of his bicep. The rune, a sharp, geometric symbol, began to burn hotter than the rest, siphoning power from Khanuk’s collection of markings. As he drew on his power, a dull throb resonated through his wounded fists and his torn septum stung in the biting cold. The selected rune shown a bright cherry red and Khanuk gently took the boys hand in his, pressing his delicate palm over the rune.

Warmth spread from the rune into the boy, creeping up his arm, encompassing his small frame. Color returned to his lips, his breathing deepened, and he stirred gently. Khanuk pulled his hand away, regarding the burn left on the boy’s palm. The boy’s bleeding clotted and Khanuk’s knuckles pulsed before the power from the focused rune dispersed throughout his body, stifling his pain and bleeding.

The group pushed onward, Khanuk effortlessly crashing through the snow and keeping pace with the native equine. The dark stallion, although unbound, trailed close behind, carefully plodding through the snow after his mounted mares and the unfamiliar beast, who carried his master.

As the mountains fell behind him and the steppe spread before him, Khanuk was pulled back into his last memories of this landscape. How the cursed rope had cut into his wrists, how Süns-Ezen Khenbish staggered along in front of him, bleeding and hopeless. He recalled how the venomous incantations spat from the lips of the Döyadd Ezen, each word siphoning his power and banishing it from his body. He recalled the pain, the first pain he had felt in eons, as the metal ring was punched through his septum, parting him from Khenbish. He recalled how his lifeforce faded as he was forced into the cavern, growing weaker with every step. He recalled the pained bellow that was torn from his throat as he felt Khenbish fall to the ground, struck down by the Döyadd before Khanuk fell into a dormant state.

Khanuk was heaved from his memories as the boy, his new Süns-Ezen, stirred within his arms. He scanned the horizon, just making out a series of round gers clustered closely together. He assumed this must be the Yajiud war-camp and quickened his pace, eager to heal the boy, to keep him safe. The singer’s mounts broke into a lope upon seeing their familiar grazing grounds, accelerating the group's progress. Khanuk kept up easily before outpacing the horses, his massive strides quickly eating the ground below him, drawing him nearer to the gers. He stopped short, halting mid-stride, deciding against charging into an unknown camp and waited for the trailing humans.

They quickly caught up and hesitated near Khanuk, reluctant to bring the large beast into their home without their Ezen. The large stallion made the decision and charged forward from the back of the group, loping into the midst of the haphazardly arranged gers. The mounted humans followed him and Khanuk followed. The riderless stallion quickly drew attention and multiple men exited the gers, all dressed in similar stiffened leather to Oktai, yet many wore furs and bore crests of multiple clans, all unfamiliar to Khanuk.

Khanuk remembered the last time he walked among the clansmen of the steppe when their gers were little but primitive shelters from the bleak winters and the scorching summer sun when their weapons were simple clubs and their armor, light padding, a crude imitation of Khanuk’s breed. Now the soldiers held long blades of aptly polished steel that glinted as they reflected the brilliance of the surrounding snow. As their eyes fell upon Khanuk, every man present dropped to his knees, many murmuring prayers and offering praises to the beast. Those wearing the Yajiud crest twisted their hands in a similar manner to the male singer as the great bull passed them, displaying their loyalty to their Khaan.

The Yajiud men swiftly noticed the state of the boy in Khanuk's arms and fell into step with the beast and his mounted escorts. The group was led through a smattering of gers, many lined with furs unfamiliar to Khanuk. They reached the center of the camp and before them rose a large get, twice the size of the surrounding shelters. Next to it squatted a small, ancient ger, its walls of tan hide thin with age and wear. The singers finally dismounted and their horses were led away. To Khanuk's surprised the soldiers approached the small tent and watched him expectantly. He stepped forward and was met by a soldier, his armor, ornately carved with metal inlays, set him apart from the common foot soldier. This was a man of high status, a leader to be respected.

His dark eyes refused to meet Khanuk's as he restlessly stood before him. The boy stirred and the soldier extended his arms, clearly asking for the boy to be passed over to him. Khanuk hesitated before grudgingly handing him over, concluding that he would soon be healed with this man. He effortlessly supported the boy as he bent at the waist, offering Khanuk a bow of fealty. The man stepped back with the boy in his arms and bowed again. He then retreated into the battered ger behind him.

At once Khanuk heard a shocked exclamation followed by a quick string of dialogue and curses. The soldiers flanking him dispersed and the singers followed, disappearing into the maze of rounded shelters. Khanuk eyed the entrance of the ger and determined that he could clearly not step through it, as he stood higher than the yurt. He could not lay down and push his head in, for his horns would surely catch and he would be left open for rear attacks. A small crowd gathered leisurely behind him, simply observing the events unfolding and curious about the newly arrived deity, yet he paid them no mind. He heard haphazard rustling through bags and sacks and the unmistakable crunch of dried herbs. An elderly, feminine voice rose in a powerful chant from inside the ger. The chant continued for several minutes before morphing into the low drone of throat singing before it abruptly cut off. Khanuk heard more jostling from the ger before an ancient woman shambled through the hide-flap doorway. She reeked of magic and healing, her long white hair littered with braided talismans and charms. With a quick gesture of her hand, she paid due respects to Khanuk.“Ezen Oktai simply needs to rest now, Khanuk Khaan. The ritual he performed was no easy feat, especially for a boy out in the cold.” He only nodded and stared into the ger, focusing on the energy of his Süns-Ezen, who he found alive and well, though not conscious.

The old healer watched him for a moment before turning and shuffling back into the ger. Khanuk approached the doorway and sat, pressing his back against the brittle walls. Even in his new position, the tips of his horns rose about the ger, even with the apex of the cone-like roof. The assembled crowd quickly dispersed as Khanuk turned to them and by the time he had sat there was no trace of the soldiers.

The activity inside the ger lulled and he felt little from his Süns-Ezen, indicating that the boy still slept. Khanuk steeled himself for the coming night he would face outside the shelter. The sun dipped towards the horizon and all activity within the war-camp faltered. Soft candlelight bloomed in a small portion of the gers and gentle murmurs floated through the hide and canvas walls. The daylight faded and the temperature plummeted. The wind gathered and swept through the camp, lifting the crisp snow and sending it dancing in erratic forms. The cold closed in upon Khanuk, yet his runes burned bright, staving off all chance of the cold biting, lest sinking her serrated teeth into his chilled hide.

Khanuk slowly relaxed into the snow, allowing his mind to slip into a half-waking trance, his mind engaged in the dreams of the camp while his body sat rigidly against the ger, still prepared for ambush or unseen threats. His consciousness drifted from his body and merged with the heavens above.

The gers dotted the bleak steppe below him, minuscule dots contrasting against the white snow. The sky around him was illuminated by masses of bright colors, spirits dancing in the night sky. Khanuk could easily sense each warrior in the camp below him, most had succumbed to restful sleep, yet some tossed in their bedrolls. Four men stalked the borders, patrolling in the darkness. Khanuk focused on the powerful energy of his Süns-Ezen, rousing the boy from his fitful slumber. He led his consciousness through the thin roof of the small ger of the healer and drew him upward. The boy’s soul followed readily, twirling along with the wind and joining Khanuk far above the steppe. The deity and the boy danced through the hues streaking across the sky. The boy released a bright laugh as the bull charged the clouds, sending the vapor swirling through the colorful rays. “I am glad you have awakened for me,” the boy said. “The Yajiud need a strong Khaan.” Khanuk merely looked at the strikingly young Ezen.

“You have seen far too few winters to worry of waking matters in the realm of dreams, boy.” The boy seemed to nod somewhat gravely before spinning away from Khanuk.

“Call me Oktai,” the boy called as he leaped through the dancing lights. “I am Ezen of the Yajiud and your Süns-Ezen.” Khanuk glanced at the boy’s playful grin.

“Call me Khanuk. I am Delkhii Yertöns, Totem Warrior and Khaan of the Yajiud, and at your service.” Oktai’s delighted laugh floated among the stars and met Khanuk’s sheepish grin.

“I know who you are, Khanuk.”