Yassa

By Jo Michaels

A love like no other has blossomed between nine-year-old Temujin and his betrothed, Börte. But life keeps getting in the way. He was chosen by his father to lead and when a rival tribe murders the old man, Temujin is forced to leave his love and return home to rule in his father’s stead.

After being abandoned by the tribe, Temujin’s family is in danger, and it falls to him to protect them. He murders a brother in self-defense and is changed forever by the act. That act makes him a criminal and he is taken into slavery; sure he has lost the love he so desires. But he escapes and makes his way back to Börte.

No sooner than they are married, she is stolen from his arms by a group of mercenaries who threaten him with ending her life if he retaliates. He lets them take her but swears revenge. Bringing his sworn brother Jamuka along, Temujin goes to rescue Börte.

When Jamuka sees Börte, he falls madly in love with her. He betrays Temujin and tries to steal her. Temujin casts Jamuka out but only causes him to fight harder to win her affections. Locked in a battle over power and love, the two men go head-to-head.

Who will win the hand of Börte? Is Temujin willing to kill a friend to protect that which he loves most?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Michaels
• Release date: Jun 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476068480

Jo Michaels

Jo Michaels loves writing novels that make readers gasp in horror, surprise, and disbelief. While her browser search history has probably landed her on a list somewhere, she still dives into every plot with gusto, hoping "the man" will realize she's a writer and not a psychopath about to go on a rampage. Her favorite pastimes are reading, watching Investigation Discovery, and helping other authors realize their true potential through mentoring. She's penned the award-winning Pen Pals and Serial Killers series and the best-selling educational book for children, Writing Prompts for Kids, which has rocketed the kids that use it into several awards of their own.Most of Jo's books feature the places she's lived: Louisiana, Tennessee, and Georgia. That's given her a special amount of insight to what makes those locations tick. Her works are immersive and twisty, and she wouldn't want it any other way.

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Yassa

Genghis Khan’s Coming of Age Tale

By Jo Michaels

Second Digital Edition

First edition published by Jo Michaels in 2012

Copyright © 2012 Jo Michaels

Smashwords Version

ISBN: 9781476068480

License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be copied or re-distributed in any way. If you’d like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Author holds all copyright. This book is a work of fiction and does not represent any individual living or dead. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by Jo Michaels

Cover design by Jo Michaels

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

***

For Mike:

Thank you for believing in me

and loving me in such a way

I could feel enough passion

and fully grasp the meaning of devotion.

It allowed me to bring those feelings forth in this novel.

You’ll understand the power of that love,

and know exactly how I feel about you,

when you read this book.

For every time I didn’t show you

exactly how much I love you, I’m sorry.

I hope Yassa

will fill in those gaps and questions.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

You are my once in a lifetime.

I love you.

***

Jamuka

Toddkhuslen screamed louder when Temujin cut off another finger, and I flexed my own in response to the act. I’d never seen a man fight like my friend had the night before. It was like something other than his own mind was working his muscles, causing him to strike and slash like a harbinger of death. It made me appreciate I’d made a friend of him, and not an enemy, when he began to peel the man’s skin back from his body. I almost vomited at the sight of exposed muscle and bone. Taking a few steps away, I turned my head to prevent my stomach from returning what I’d eaten that morning.

We’d snuck into the Merkit’s camp under the cover of darkness and taken them by surprise; there was little fighting. Temujin had been given 20,000 soldiers to lead in order to carry out the bloody quest. He’d done so with excellent war tactics, planning, stealth, and swiftness. Wang Khan, leader of the Kerait tribe and lender of the soldiers, had come a long way to watch. I knew it was so he could use Temujin as a weapon of war at some point. During our escape from the Tayichi’ud slavers, Temujin had proven himself a great thinker with a very steadfast composure. If his stories were true and he was born grasping a blood clot—a sign one was destined for greatness—he’d be a mighty weapon in anyone’s arsenal. I believed Wang Khan knew that and was cultivating it for his own gain.

Wang Khan was a mighty man with a long, smooth, black braid, stocky build, and regal posture who was always draped in fine clothes and jewels. His tribe was one of the strongest on the steppes. They abandoned the nomadic life for more permanent dwellings; something that was becoming a more common practice in Mongolia. His men were well dressed in fine armor and every one of them had a good bow, a healthy horse, and a sharp sword.

His face betrayed his disgust at being in the Merkit’s camp; his lips curled at the edges. There were fresh skins hung to dry, mangy dogs running around, and wash hanging off every line. Stench was perhaps the worst part; the Merkits had been there a number of months, and the waste had accumulated. I snickered as I watched Wang Khan’s face morph into a mask of revulsion as a filthy child ran by and wondered if he’d ever been dirty in his life. He’d even refused to dismount his horse because he didn’t want his shoes to pick up the muck.

Temujin sought assistance when his wife, Börte, was stolen right out of their tent on the steppes three weeks before; he summoned me to accompany him. We were in the Merkit’s camp to recover her and to exact his revenge on those that stole her. He murdered the entire families of the men that attacked him, and the kidnappers were forced watch the massacre. His final act of torture was to pluck out their eyes so the image of their mutilated loved ones would be the last thing they ever saw. They were then turned loose on the grasslands, and the order was given that no one was to kill them.

We had yet to find Börte among the low, round houses we called yurts, but Temujin was working to rectify that situation. If the man, Toddkhuslen, would simply say where he’d taken her, Temujin would likely end the man’s agony. That Merkit was the most stubborn man I’d ever seen. Why would he hold his tongue when only a small bit of information would set him free?

Suddenly, Temujin roared. It was a sound like nothing I’d ever heard in my life, and my hair stood on end. Toddkhuslen begin to cry, then he began to scream again; a feral scream, high pitched and grating, that told me he was in extreme pain.

I closed my eyes to stop my stomach from churning and took a deep breath. It caused battle scents to flood my nose: blood, loosed bowels, wood smoke, and the sharpness of acrid metal. Surprisingly, the smell revived my ire. I knew I was meant to be a warrior in that moment. Standing on the battlefield after our victory made me feel like I was unbeatable. We’d killed everyone that had resisted.

Our borrowed soldiers were busy taking their pick of the widows. Temujin was offered first choice, being the leader of the attack, but had bypassed them all, saying there was only one woman he wanted. I declined because I wasn’t fond of the Merkit women; they’re a dirty breed.

Suddenly, Temujin appeared at my shoulder. I hadn’t even heard him approach, but I didn’t let him see my astonishment at his stealth when I turned around.

I asked, Did we find out where they’re keeping your wife?

His face paled as he answered, Yes. That man was her new husband. He spit the word husband out like it tasted foul on his tongue. I have directions to his yurt. Let’s go.

My stomach did a flip. That explained the roar that echoed through the camp and set my teeth on edge. I had new pity for Toddkhuslen. I wondered if he’d been killed or left to bleed and die slowly. I shivered in my warm clothes.

As we walked, I thought about the previous four months. Temujin and I had become fast friends during our time of enslavement by the Tayichi'ud. It was then he told me about the law he had written and intended his people to live by: Yassa. It was the basis of what made Temujin an invaluable asset to anyone. Once you pledge yourself to another in any capacity: marriage, brotherhood, or friend, you remain loyal to them above all others and will do whatever is necessary to help when needed. There was only one punishment for breaking Yassa law: death. Temujin said, Once a man or woman betrays you, they must die; because they’ll think nothing of betraying you again. He’s a wise man.

His crime was murder. I could tell it weighed heavily on his person. Börte seemed to be the one thing that took his mind off what he’d done. When he spoke of her, his face lit up, and his eyes got a faraway look in them. After hearing about all these things so much over the previous four months, I got the impression maybe she was the one that came up with the idea of Yassa law. I had no way of knowing for sure, but from the way he spoke of Börte, she seemed to be quite an interesting creature. She was my age, eighteen, and Temujin was two years younger than that. Their penchant for knowing what was right and wrong at such a young age had taken me by surprise. I’d struggled with the concept for… No, I never stopped.

We approached the yurt, and I was brought back into the moment. Temujin stood at the door, fidgeting, like he was afraid to go in. I looked him in the eye and motioned my head toward the entrance, silently asking if he wanted me to go first. He nodded and returned his stare to his shoes, like he was frozen in terror at the idea of proceeding with no knowledge of what he’d find.

I turned, opened the door, and stepped through into the darkness. I had to give my eyes a moment to adjust from the bright dawning light outside to the murky interior I had entered. When at last I could see, I thought I was dreaming.

Tied to the roof’s supports by long ropes fastened around her wrists was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. She was wearing nothing but a sheath of thin, white fabric that was ripped, stained, and damp; it clung to her like a marmot skin. Every curve, every dimple, and every muscle was clearly visible. When she raised her eyes to look at me, I was overtaken with a feeling I never had before. I loved her instantly and ferociously; it was all I could do to not fall to my knees. I was taken aback by the fear behind her eyes until it dawned on me she didn’t know me and was scared of being abused by yet another man.

I tried to speak, to tell her something about who I was and why I was there in order to ease her fears, but my tongue wouldn’t work. I found it very difficult to move at all, so I simply stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot. When her face changed to a look of relief and her eyes filled with tears, I knew Temujin had entered the yurt behind me. It reminded me my angel belonged to another man. My heart stopped beating, and I held my breath.

He glanced between us, and I had the sudden fear he was reading my thoughts. With a shake, I cleared my head. Temujin broke into a wide grin and punched me in the arm. He wiggled his eyebrows and jerked his head toward Börte as if to say to me She’s something, huh?

I’d never wanted to hit anyone with my fists until they screamed for mercy before I experienced the protectiveness I’d felt for her in that moment. He was joking while his wife was half naked and tied up. What an ass!

I excused myself and went outside to take a walk and do some thinking. As I walked I slammed my feet down to vent some frustration. I didn’t know what to do about the feelings I was having for my best friend’s wife. I couldn’t betray him, could I? If he had an inkling I was even thinking of betrayal, he’d cut off my head.

Those words clicked into place, and I pondered them for a few moments. Temujin would cut off my head… I knew that to be a fact. If he could remove my head without a second thought, why did he deserve my loyalty? I would never murder or kill him to settle a matter of honor; he was my anda, my brother in life. Yassa law was thrust into the forefront of my mind, twisting my guts into a knot the deftest of fingers wouldn’t be able to untie. I burned with my indecisiveness.

I made my way back to the yurt and took a seat outside where my thoughts assaulted my system and a whirlwind of emotions passed through me. Desire, love, confusion, anger, fear, and jealously were all intermingling inside my heart. I wanted her. I wanted her so badly; I knew I’d do anything to possess her. I shook with rage at Temujin and his callous reaction to seeing her tied like a slave and dressed the way she was. My thoughts consumed me. Jamuka, you’ve come across an angel. You can’t let her slip through your fingers. Then, I recalled the scene I’d witnessed with Temujin and Toddkhuslen and got sick again. If my anda knew my thoughts, they might be enough to incite him to lash out at me as he had at that man.

More memories raced through my brain: If it hadn’t been for Temujin, I’d still be a slave. He orchestrated our escape from the Tayichi’ud. I owe him my freedom. I pledged myself to him right after, before heading home to my own family to say goodbye. My old life was over, and I didn’t question it because he’d promised me more.

I come from a poor family that can hardly barter for horses; I never envisioned myself as great or with the ability to lift myself above my family’s station. Temujin is my chance to rise up and be more, and he’s my anda. I owe him everything, right? When he called me for the rescue, I had to come.

Börte’s face flashed in my mind, and all the loyalty I’d sworn and promises I’d made wavered again.

Would I do anything to make her mine? Even betray my blood brother? Yes, I’d conquer worlds for the love of this woman. It will make her look at me the way she looks at him.

Knowing they’d been together inside the yurt right behind me, and imagining his arms around her, giving her the comfort she needed, filled me with jealousy and rage like I’d never known. Why should he be allowed to possess her? Simply because he’s better looking than me? It it because they were promised to each other long ago, or is it because he was born to a higher station, being the son of a chief? I’m as well trained as he is, he saw to that so he could use me in his grand plan to rebuild his tribe. He won’t have me as a pawn! I’ll crush him like a bug. She will be mine.

***

Chapter 1 – The Business of Wives

I am Genghis Khan. Outlaw, murderer, savior of a people, and warrior of God. I haven’t always been what I’ve now become. Like every man, I began as an infant and grew through childhood before the world shaped me as it has. As infancy had little bearing, I’ll begin this recounting of my life in 1171, the year I met my wife, Börte, because that’s truly when my journey began. I was nine years old, and my name was Temujin.

My father and I were already outside, preparing our horses for travel, when the sun decided to lift her sleepy head over the horizon to reveal a clear sky that would be perfect for our journey over the grassy steppes. It was a cool spring morning, and the light reflecting off Burkhan Khaldun, the mountain near our home, made pretty patterns of light on the ground near my feet. In the dim light, my nervousness was amplified, and even the soft sound of mice scurrying across the ground to store the grain they were stealing set my teeth on edge. My mind kept wandering off repeatedly as I asked myself a million questions about the girl I was to marry: Is she pretty? Is she a hard worker? Is she stout and able to bear many sons? What if I’m not attracted to her?

I squelched those thoughts when my father stared at me with his stern face. He looked different that day, angry and a bit sad, almost as though he could read my mind and channel my feelings. It was very unsettling for my tender young conscience and only amplified the problem of my twanging nerves.

I took a moment to study my father and hoped I’d look like him when I grew up. He was taller than most men, had wide shoulders, a broad chest, dark hair not yet streaked with gray despite his forty-two years, and a handsome face that radiated youth. His eyes were green, like mine, his clothes and hair were always well kempt, and he often said if I stayed clean, people were more likely to respect me. I tried very hard to follow his example, and often found myself telling others the same thing. Because of my father’s desire for cleanliness, our tribe left few marks on the land when we camped.

As we rode out of our encampment, people began emerging from their yurts to bid my father safe journey. He was the leader of our nomadic tribe, the Kiyad, and our people loved him. We were only comprised of around nine hundred individuals, but my father lead us well, always made sure we had ample supplies for winter, and had a hand in everything that took place from herding to weddings. One day, I’d step into his place and take over the rule of our people and his many responsibilities.

Since my birth, I was taught daily by my father how to lead with my head, hunt with incomparable skill, tend and guide our people, and fight with ferocity and strategy. I knew I needed to be learned in the ways of our people, take a good wife, and have many sons so my family’s line, and my tribe, would continue and prosper. Already, I could best my older brothers in hand-to-hand combat—except Quasar—and being bested by what most people would deem a mere child left them looking like the dolts they were.

I took a deep breath of the morning air and let it settle my stomach. We had a day and a half ride ahead of us, and I knew my anxiety would only grow from wherever it began. I forced my heartbeat to slow and the tremors to leave my hands so I could begin my trip on a positive note.

The girl we were going to meet would want a match with me because I would be a tribal leader; I was a sought after prize. Our fathers arranged it because it was good for the unity of our tribes. After all, I’d be able to provide for her and guide her in many ways. My bigger worry was if she’d truly want me, or if she was after my title of chief to pass to her children. She was only a girl, after all, and everyone knows girls have heads full of ambition, babies, and boys—with little room spared for anything else.

As we cleared the edge of our camp, my father slowed his horse and allowed me to ride up beside him so we could talk about the events that were about to transpire.

Temujin, I hope you’re not going to make a fool out of me. You know the girl is ideal for you. Her father claims she’s stout, intelligent, and beautiful. I’m sure the old man was simply boasting about his only daughter, hoping I’d give my finest son and heir as her husband, but I agreed anyway. You need a stout wife, and she’s from an excellent tribe. Even without the other two qualities, you know her ability to bear strong sons is a worthy asset. I, myself, have never seen a woman with all those qualities—your mother being the closest—and so believe them to be like story characters; made up.

He grinned and winked at me.

I almost passed out. Fear of falling off my horse made me take a deep breath to clear my vision.

Trying to reason it out, I turned and said, Father, if she’s not intelligent, she must be beautiful, and if she’s not beautiful, she’ll be intelligent. That’s the way these things work. I’m sure I’ll be able to tolerate her. I won’t humiliate you in front of your counterpart.

After that little exchange, he began questioning me about everything he’d taught me through the years: animals, archery, combat tactics, hunting formations, survival techniques, botany, and so much more. When I’d answered at least two hundred questions with no errors in my responses, he nodded with approval and reminded me I’d be gone from him for three years, and I must take care to not forget my learnings.

Yes, I remembered I’d have to live with Börte’s tribe and learn their ways as well. I thought it was ridiculous because no one knew more than my father about hunting and war. He was the fastest, most proficient warrior on the steppes, and I had very little confidence I’d learn anything from another man. That brought to mind my brothers, and I laughed aloud when I thought of their apparent slowness in learning. All of them, except Quasar, were older than me, and not betrothed, because they couldn’t pull their heads out of the dirt long enough to learn even to read and write; losers. I chuckled again and shook my head. I’d been chosen to take over because of the auspicious circumstances surrounding my birth, but my quickness of wit and personal strength would’ve gotten me the position anyway.

After the day and a half journey, across rivers and boring flat grasslands with scrubby trees and thorny bushes in scattered patches as far as I could see, we arrived at the camp of the Onggirat.

It was very dark on the wide, sweeping grasslands, and with the dark came the cold. I was starting to lose patience with my numb hands because they kept dropping my horse’s reigns.

Instead of being taken to the chief’s home, we were taken to an empty yurt nearby and told we had the rest of the night to sleep before the tribal leader would receive us. I lay down and stared at the ceiling but I couldn’t sleep. It smelled wrong; like incense and metal. It wasn’t like home, where my bedding was soft and fluffy and didn’t prick me in the back while I tried to rest. As I lay there, all the questions I’d asked myself the day before played through my head. I was quizzing myself on my knowledge while driving myself crazy imagining the girl who was so close yet so far away.

Just as I finally dozed off, I was awakened by my father shaking my shoulder and telling me to get my butt up and wash so I’d be presentable. I rolled out of my bed, dressed, trudged outside, and washed my face in the basin in the center of the camp. I shuddered to think how many faces had been washed in that water. Its temperature did wake me up a bit, for which I was grateful, but used water is disgusting. I walked back to my father and yawned.

We were to arrive at the chief’s home on horseback. I didn’t even want to look at my horse, Ogeechechee, and almost allowed a groan to escape when I heard the order to mount. I’d been on his back too long already, and my legs ached with the width. I was only a boy, and it would be a few years before my horse fit me properly. Begrudgingly, I mounted, sat tall—as was my father’s desire, and didn’t complain. A man led our horses through the camp at a leisurely pace, giving the people time to observe us. They peeked out of their doors as we rode by, trying to get a look at the new son of the chief. My heart pounded in my chest, my hands grew clammy, and I breathed more heavily. I was terrified of meeting that girl. Me! Temujin! Terrified! What shame fear brings. My brothers would’ve teased me forever if I’d done something stupid.

When we finally arrived, my feet almost failed me as I leapt from my perch to the ground. My father shot me a stern look when I stumbled, so I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. I knew I might as well get it over with. My father following, I marched to the chief’s door with a straight back and my head held high. When the man appeared, I extended my hand in greeting. He took it into his but used the chance to pull me into a huge hug and pound me on the back until I felt I might break into pieces under his blows.

He yelled to my father, A fine specimen you’ve brought me, Yesugei! He’ll make my Börte very happy.

I didn’t know why he was yelling, my father was standing not three meters from me. But, to my surprise, my father yelled back, Yes, Dei Seichen, he’s the finest of young men. I trust you’ll teach him well.

I almost rolled my eyes but knew I’d be slapped for the act. Besides, I didn’t want to embarrass my father, so I simply stood patiently and waited. I realized they were yelling because of the onlookers. Did everyone need to hear what was being said?

I passed by the chief and bowed to his wife, Tacchotan, in a show of respect, before entering and taking a look around inside their yurt. It would do nicely as a home for the next three years with its freshly swept dirt floor and plenty of skins hung to keep out the cold nights. It smelled of warm fur and the roasting meat I knew was to be dinner.

The tribe moved to the location only a day or two before, and moving always meant a lot of work for the women. Börte’s mother had done a fine job, and the yurt felt like a home should: warm and inviting.

Suddenly, I got the feeling someone was behind me. I slapped down the urge to turn and attack the newcomer. Instead, I turned slowly. My mouth went dry when I saw her standing there with her hands folded together in front of her. I couldn’t make my tongue work. She was stunningly beautiful with light hair, deep blue eyes, and a pair of lips that were obviously a gift from God. Only by giving myself a mental shake was I able to form words at last. Trembling, I fixed a look of determination on my face and walked the three steps between Börte and myself. I’d decided, during the ride the day before, in the fifteen minutes my father was silent, exactly what I’d say. I cleared my throat loudly. Everyone in the entire tribe—and they all seemed to be standing right outside that yurt—seemed to become very quiet and still so they could listen. I could’ve heard a mosquito flying across the camp.

In my most authoritative voice, I spoke to her. "I’m Temujin of the Kiyad tribe, and I’ve been assured that I’m destined for greatness. We’ll marry, you’ll belong to me for the rest of your life, and I’ll honor you until the day I die. If you’re not agreeable to this arrangement, tell me now; because once

Reviews for Yassa

[cmtruxler_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Yassa Sure to Gain Author Loyal ReadersWhat would you do for love? What would you do to survive? Yassa, by Jo Michaels offers the warrior’s answer to these questions and then some. Written in first person, Yassa manages to give two points of view to its peak turning-point event without breaking a sweat. Some prologues can be ignored and one misses nothing, but readers of this novel should be very careful not to fall into this thinking in the case of this work. The prologue adds a completely new dimension to the work, and enhances the tale greatly. In a world of marriages arranged for power, and ruthless warlords and warriors, real love is a rare commodity. Yet, even the most brutal and tactically driven of minds, can be conquered by a heart touched with love. Temujin, the main character of this tale can hardly be called a hero in many respects, but judgment is not always based on black and white facts; life is created by all shades of grey and color. In truth, some would say he suffers from some type of mental disorder. One person’s vicious killer can be another’s savior and love interest easily. Like all the characters within Yassa’s pages, Temujin is so emotionally charged and visually accessible that one is a part of each event, not just a barely interested onlooker. The plot is alive with emotions and a spirit all its own, carrying each reader into life during the 12th century. Thus, with any tale of war and tribal rule, readers must be ready to deal with graphic violence along with the lighter side of such a life. Michaels has created a personal history for one many know only as a warrior and merciless conqueror, thus proving there are at least two sides to every story, and in this case, every reader is a winner.