Temujin clenched his fists, feeling the heaviness in his arms and calves.

“Are you ready?” Kachiun asked him, nodding toward the northern face.

Temujin reached out and caught his serious little brother around the back of the head in a quick clasp. He saw that Kachiun had lost a fingernail from his right hand. There was a crust of blood running right along his forearm to the sinewy muscles there, but the boy showed no sign of his discomfort.

“I am ready,” Temujin said. “Why did you wait for me?”

Kachiun grunted softly, taking a fresh hold on the rock. “If you fell, Bekter would be khan one day.”

“He might be a good one,” Temujin said, grudgingly. He did not believe it, but he remembered how Bekter had wrestled his father’s bondsmen. There were aspects of the adult world he did not yet fully understand, and Bekter had at least the attitudes of a warrior.

Kachiun snorted at that. “He rides like a stone, Temujin. Who can follow a man who sits so badly?”

Temujin smiled as he and Kachiun began to climb.

It was a fraction easier with two of them working together. More than once, Temujin used his strength to support Kachiun’s foot as the boy swarmed up the face like an agile spider. He climbed as well as he rode, but his young body was showing signs of exhaustion and Temujin saw he was growing pale as they put another hundred feet behind them. Both boys were panting and their arms and legs seemed too heavy to move.

The sun had crossed the highest point of the sky and begun its trail toward the west. Temujin eyed its position whenever he could find a place to snatch a moment of relief from the strain. They could not be caught on the face in the dark, or both of them would fall. More worrying was the sight of a looming ridge of clouds in the distance. A summer storm would tear them all off the red hill, and he feared for his brothers as Kachiun slipped and almost took them both to their deaths.

“I have you. Find another hold,” Temujin grunted, his breath coming like fire from his open mouth. He could not remember being so tired and still the summit seemed impossibly far. Kachiun managed to take his weight off Temujin’s arm, looking back for a moment at the bleeding scuff marks his boot had left on Temujin’s bare skin. Kachiun followed his brother’s gaze out over the plains and stiffened as he saw the clouds. The wind was difficult to judge as it gusted around the crags, but both boys had the feeling it was coming straight at them.

“Come on, keep moving. If it starts to rain, we’re all dead,” Temujin growled at him, pushing his brother upwards. Kachiun nodded, though he closed his eyes for a moment and seemed dazed. It was easy to forget how young he was at times. Temujin felt a fierce, protective pride for the little boy and vowed not to let him fall.

The southern peak was still visible as they climbed, though there was no sign of either Bekter or Khasar. Temujin wondered if they had reached the top and were even then on their way back down with an eagle chick safe under a tunic. Bekter would be insufferable if he brought one of the great birds back to their father’s tents, and the thought was enough to lend a little extra energy to Temujin’s tired muscles.

Neither boy understood at first what the high-pitched sounds meant. They had never heard the cries of young eagles, and the wind was a constant companion with its own sound over the rocks. The clouds had spread to fill the sky and Temujin was more concerned about finding a place for shelter. The thought of getting down with every handhold slick with rain made his heart sink. Even Kachiun could not do it, he was certain. One of them would fall, at least.

The threat of dark clouds could not completely hold the attention of the two boys as they dragged themselves up to a cleft stuffed with twigs and feathers. Temujin could smell the scent of rotting meat before he was able to bring his eyes up to the level of the nest. At last he realized that the whistling sound was from a pair of young eagles, watching the climbers with feral interest.

The adult birds must have mated early, as the chicks were neither scrawny nor helpless. Both still carried their lighter feathering, with only touches of the golden brown that would carry them soaring over mountains in search of prey. Their wings were stubby and ugly looking, though both boys thought they had never seen anything quite so beautiful. The claws seemed too large for the young birds, great yellow toes ending in darker spikes that looked already capable of tearing flesh.

Kachiun had frozen in wonder on the ledge, hanging from his fingertips. One of the birds took his stillness as some sort of challenge and hissed at him, spreading its wings in a show of courage that made Kachiun beam in pleasure.

“They are little khans,” he said, his eyes shining.

Temujin nodded, unable to speak. Already he was wondering how to get both birds down alive with a storm on the way. He scanned the horizon at the sudden worrying thought that the adult eagles might be driven home before the clouds. At such a precarious height, an attacking eagle would be more than a match for two boys trying to shepherd fledglings to the ground.

Temujin watched as Kachiun drew himself up into a crouch on the very edge of the nest, seemingly oblivious to the precarious position. Kachiun reached out a hand, but Temujin snapped a warning. “The clouds are too close for us to get down now,” he said. “Leave them in the nest and we can take them in the morning.”

As he spoke, a rumble of thunder growled across the plains, and both boys looked toward the source. The sun was still bright over them, but in the distance they could see rain sheeting down in twisting dark threads, the shadow racing toward the red hill. At that height, it was a scene to inspire awe as well as fear.

They shared a glance and Kachiun nodded, dropping back from the nest edge to the one below.

“We’ll starve,” he said, putting his sore finger in his mouth and sucking at the crust of dried blood.

Temujin nodded, resigned. “Better that than falling,” he said. “The rain is nearly here and I want to find a place where I can sleep without dropping off. It will be a miserable night.”

“Not for me,” Kachiun said, softly. “I have looked into the eyes of an eagle.”

With affection, Temujin cuffed the little boy, helping him traverse the ridge to where they could climb farther up. A cleft between two slopes beckoned. They could wedge themselves in as far as possible and rest at last.

“Bekter will be furious,” Kachiun said, enjoying the idea.

Temujin helped him up into the cleft and watched him wriggle his way in deeper, disturbing a pair of tiny lizards. One of them ran to the edge and leapt in panic with its legs outstretched, falling for a long time. There was barely room for both boys, but at least they were out of the wind. It would be uncomfortable and frightening after dark, and Temujin knew he would be lucky to sleep at all.

“Bekter chose the easy way up,” he said, taking Kachiun’s hand and pulling himself in.