Swords from the East by Harold Lamb

By Harold Lamb

Their conquest used to be measured no longer in miles yet in levels of longitude. They smashed the gates of empires, overthrew kingdoms, diverted rivers, and depopulated whole international locations. They have been the Mongols of Genghis Khan, fast and cruel but additionally imaginative, daring, and crafty. Their story has seldom been advised within the West, and not by means of an writer with the acumen of Harold Lamb.
 
Ride with younger Temujin as he outwits schemers and assassins and rises to overcome Asia as Genghis Khan. enterprise to the land underneath the northern lighting on a project of vengeance with Maak the Buriat. Stand with Aruk the gatekeeper and Hugo the Frank as they carry the move opposed to the Sungar hordes. Lamb’s action-packed Mongolian tales, to be had right here in a single entire quantity, repair the Mongols to their position in historical past, portraying them no longer as senseless barbarians yet as males of honor and bravado who laid down their lives for his or her chief and their lands.

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Aruk's bow was lifted, the shaft taut on the string. A slight easing of the fingers would have sent the arrow into the throat of the stranger, above the fur-tipped cloak that covered his long body. The rider halted when he reached Aruk, but apparently for the purpose of looking out from the pass over the wide plain of Tartary, visible here for the first time from the pass-the plain speckled with brown herds and adorned with the deep blue of lakes, like jewels upon green cloth. Here and there below him were the tiny lines of animals that barely seemed to move, camels of the caravans that came from China to Muscovy.

As the windows were only slits in the logs, Hugo could make out the interior of the cabin only vaguely. Noticing that it was empty, he laid the old man on what appeared to be a long bench and covered his limbs with his own cloak. He went out and presently returned with his leather cap full of fresh, cold water, taken from a nearby stream. "A sorry bed, Pierre," he observed in French, "and a poor drink to speed you on your way. " Pierre lifted his thin head wistfully. "If there were but a priest in this wilderness!

He was in no mood to contradict his guest. But later among the Buriats he voiced the thought in his mind. "Maak has looked into the spirit gate. When he sat on the mountain looking for his enemies the gate in the sky was open. " And the Mongol spoke truth, though not in the way he thought. The urge to do battle for the herd that was dearer to Maak than his own life was a heritage of forgotten ancestors. Maak had looked through the gate in the sky. Chapter I Aruk and the Krit Bouragut, the great golden eagle, was flying high over the snows and rocks of the Altai Mountains.

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