At last, one of the shah’s senior men shouted that the khan had withdrawn. Ala-ud-Din gave thanks for his deliverance. He had known horsemen could not attack at night. With hardly any light from the moon, they could not coordinate their blows without crashing into one another. He listened to news as his scouts came in, estimating their distance from Otrar and passing on every detail they had seen of the khan’s position.

Ala-ud-Din prepared to make camp. Dawn would bring an end to it and the cursed Mongols would have left their arrows behind in the bodies of his men. With Otrar in sight, he would widen his lines and bring more swords to bear on their stinging attacks. In the last hour, they had lost as many men as he had, he was certain. Before that, they had gutted his host. He looked around at the marching lines, wondering how many had survived the fight through the mountains. He had once seen a hunting party follow a wounded lion as it dragged itself away from their spears. The animal had left a trail of blood as wide as itself as it crawled on its torn belly. He could not escape the vision of his own army in just such a state, the red smear bright behind them. He gave the order to halt at last and he could hear the massed sigh of thousands of men allowed to rest. The shah began to dismount, but as he did so, he saw lights spring up to the east. He knew the pinpoints of an army’s fires well and he stayed on the back of the elephant as more and more sprang into existence until they looked like distant stars. There was his enemy, resting and waiting for the dawn.

Around Ala-ud-Din, his own men began to make fires with wood and dried dung from the camel backs. The morning would see an end to it. The shah heard voices calling the faithful to prayer and nodded fiercely to himself. Allah was with them still and the Mongol khan was bleeding too.

As the moon crossed the black sky, Genghis gathered his generals around a fire. The mood was not jubilant as they waited for him to speak. Their tumans had slaughtered many of the shah’s men, but their own losses were appalling. In the last hour before darkness, four thousand veteran warriors had been killed. They had cut their way almost to the shah himself, but then the Arab swords had gathered against them and dug them out.

Jebe and Jochi had come into the camp together, greeted by Kachiun and Khasar while Genghis merely stared. Tsubodai and Jelme rose to congratulate the two young men, having heard the story of the long ride as it spread through the camp.

Chagatai too had heard the news and his expression was surly as he watched Jelme clap his older brother on the back. He could not understand why they seemed so pleased. He too had fought, following his father’s orders rather than disappearing for days at a time. He at least had been where Genghis needed him. Chagatai had hoped to see Jebe and Jochi humiliated for their absence, but even their late arrival at the shah’s rear ranks was being treated as a stroke of genius. He sucked his front teeth, looking to his father.

Genghis sat cross-legged, with a skin of airag on his hip and a bowl of sour cheese curds on his lap. The back of his left hand was caked in blood and his right shin was bound tightly, but still seeped. As Chagatai turned his face from the foolish praise of his brother, Genghis cleaned the bowl with a finger and chewed the last of it. Silence fell as he put the bowl aside and sat perfectly still.

‘Samuka and Ho Sa must be dead by now,’ Genghis said at last. ‘The garrison at Otrar cannot be far away and I do not know how many survived the fire and arrows.’

‘They won’t stop for darkness,’ Kachiun said. ‘Perhaps they will walk their horses, but they’ll still reach the shah before dawn.’ As he spoke, Kachiun stared out into the night, to where they could expect the garrison to arrive. Further off, he could see the fires of the shah’s camp, and even after so much death, there were still hundreds of pinpoints of light, just a few miles away. No doubt Arab scouts were already riding back to join with the Otrar garrison and lead them in. The darkness would hide them well enough.

‘I have scouts out in a ring around us,’ Genghis said. ‘If they attack tonight, there will be no surprises.’

‘Who attacks at night?’ Khasar said. His thoughts were with Samuka and Ho Sa and he barely looked up from the dry goat meat he forced between his lips.

In the light of the flames, Genghis turned a cold gaze on his brother.

‘We do,’ he said.

Khasar swallowed the meat faster than he had intended, but Genghis went on before he could reply.

‘What choice do we have? We know where they are and the arrows are all gone anyway. If we strike from all sides, we will not foul each other’s lines.’

Khasar cleared his throat and spoke thickly.

‘The moon is weak tonight, brother. How could we see flags or know how the battle is going?’

Genghis raised his head.

‘You will know when they break, or when you are killed. It is the only choice left to us. Would you have me wait until a garrison of twenty thousand men joins them at dawn – fresh men who have not fought as we have?’ In the firelight, he looked around at his generals. Many of them moved stiffly and Jelme’s right arm was wrapped in bloody cloth, still wet.

‘If I know Samuka, there won’t be half that number,’ Khasar muttered, but Genghis did not reply.

Tsubodai cleared his throat and Genghis’ eyes slid over to the young general.

‘My lord khan, the flying columns worked well when we had arrows. In the night, each attack would be met by men with shields in solid ranks. We could lose them all.’

Genghis snorted, but Tsubodai went on, his quiet voice calming the others.

‘One column could cut its way in, but we saw that today. They do not run from us, these Arabs, not easily. Every step brings more and more men onto the flank of the charge until it is overwhelmed.’

‘You have an alternative?’ Genghis snapped. Though his voice was hard, he was listening. He knew Tsubodai’s sharp mind and respected it.

‘We need to confuse them, lord. We can do that with a false second attack, circling around. They will send men to hold and we will roll them up from our side.’

Genghis shook his head, considering. Tsubodai pressed on.

‘What if we had a small number of men drive horses at the shah’s left wing, lord? Have them take all the spare mounts and make as much noise as they can. When the shah commits his soldiers there, we attack the right with everything we have. It might make a difference.’

He waited as Genghis thought it through, unaware that he was holding his breath.

‘It is a good plan,’ he began. All the men at the fire stiffened as they heard a scout’s horn sound in the night. Almost in response, a roar sounded in the distance, coming towards them. While they talked and ate, the shah had attacked their fires.

As one, the generals surged to their feet, keen to get back to their men.

‘This is simpler, though, Tsubodai,’ Khasar said as he passed.

Tsubodai grinned at the insolent tone. He had already planned for such an attack and the warriors were ready.